Why I Quit Instagram

Goodbye, Instagram. Photo: Mat Honan

Update: Instagram said they’re “listening”, stating that “The language we proposed also raised question about whether your photos can be part of an advertisement.” That question was raised because the terms of service language said very explicitly that photos could be used as part of an advertisement. I appreciate the update, and Instagram’s willingness to communicate â€" and I’m listening. But the company still hasn’t really said anything. Without a clear commitment on its end, I’m not making a clear commitment either: In short, I still want options. 

I quit Instagram today. Not only that, I nuked my account. It’s gone; deleted. Can’t get it back. No more.

I signed up for Instagram a month after it launched, in November of 2010. I was hooked from the giddy-up. My first photo? A pretty boring beach scene: gone now, but you can still see it above. Photos of food and beer and nights out on the town followed â€" banalities and burritos and bad photography, through Valencia hues.

But Instagram also caught a lot of meaningful moments. The first photo I ever shared of my daughter? On Instagram. Likewise, I loved that it’s given me a window into my friends’ lives these past two years. I’ve seen triumphs and failures, and, sure, photos of food. Instagram is more than just a photo-sharing site â€" more than a social network, even. It has turned into a robust media platform, a place where we can turn to peek in at events across the globe â€" from the 2012 London Olympics to Egypt’s Tahrir Square.

By now you’ve likely heard Instagram changed its terms of service. There is a lot not to like, but I didn’t quit because of any single change in particular.

Why did I quit Instagram? It’s the thoughtlessness, stupid.

Instagram was built not by a team of ten in San Francisco’s South Park â€" but by tens of millions and then hundreds of millions of people all over the world. With all due respect to the work that Kevin Systrom and Mike Krieger put into building a wonderful app that scaled to meet unprecedented growth, Instagram succeeded because of network effects.

Which makes it remarkable that the company has shown such utter disrespect for that very network of people.

Here’s the part of their new terms of service that has so many people up in arms:

To help us deliver interesting paid or sponsored content or promotions, you agree that a business or other entity may pay us to display your username, likeness, photos (along with any associated metadata), and/or actions you take, in connection with paid or sponsored content or promotions, without any compensation to you.

What does that mean? The bottom line is that Instagram is reserving the right to use your photos as it sees fit, without permission or even notification, in advertisements and promotions. It hasn’t said it owns them, or that it will do that â€" it just can.

Naturally, that’s caused a lot of consternation, and subsequent backlash against that consternation. There are a thousand polemics on the web today about Instagram. Some make the case that it’s evil and awful and, oh, no, Facebook! That’s overblown. Others prop up half-hearted strawmen with hand-wavy dismissals of anyone’s concern alongside the notion that of course Instagram should make money.

Mat Honan

Mat Honan is a senior writer with Wired’s Gadget Lab and a co-founder of Longshot magazine. 

I think there’s a reasonable middle position. I believe Instagram should be able to make money. Facebook telegraphed that something like this was coming just last week, and my reaction at the time was “good.” I was happy that Instagram had a revenue model. It isn’t a charity. And companies that don’t make money are doomed to fail. Facebook paid a lot of damn money to buy Instagram, and it’s natural to want some return on that.

Yet I also believe it’s wrong to take people’s photos â€" out of context â€" for use in advertisements. With no way to opt out.

The issue is about more than using photos of my baby daughter, or deceased grandmother, in ads. The greater concern should be that the company would forge ahead with such a plan without offering any other option to the very users and data that built it.

There are a lot of other ways to make money. Sell an ad in the stream. Sell an ad on individual users’ pages. Sell an ad against search results, and another for tags that relate to upcoming events. Offer “pro” features â€" like special filters or promoted profiles. I’m no expert here, but I don’t have to be â€" clearly Systrom and Krieger know how to make a buck.

Sure, my photos aren’t the greatest or the prettiest or the most original. But they’re mine. And if you want to do something with them, just ask me, okay? I’m not even saying no. I’m just saying: Have enough respect to ask me and give me options. By putting terms in place that offered no way to opt out, short of deleting your account, Instagram delivered an ultimatum.

And so I quit Instagram on principle. Because I’m tired of contributing to the commodification of my own existence. I’m not a pork belly, or a barrel of oil. I’m tired of clicking on agree, when I vehemently oppose. I’m tired of saying yes, when I want to say no.

I hope Instagram rethinks its stance. One of its strongest features is how easy it is to build a network there. And so if it does walk its terms back significantly and permanently, I’ll gladly rejoin.

Anyone who says there’s going to be a mass exodus of Instagram users is naive. It will continue to grow. But the internet is whatever we make it. And sometimes, when you believe in something, you have to stand up for it.

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