In the race to build “the future of decentralised platforms,” every new project today seems obsessed with interoperability; bridges, shared protocols, cross-app identity layers. Whether it’s social networks like Bluesky, or messaging systems like Nostr, everyone wants their users to “connect seamlessly.”
But here’s the problem; the moment two systems agree to speak the same language, someone has to define the dictionary. And whoever defines it holds the power.
Interoperability sounds like freedom. But in reality, it quietly creates new centres of control, new dependencies, new hierarchies.
That thought hit me while rewatching The Social Network. In one scene, Mark Zuckerberg explains how each Harvard dorm had its own version of “facebook,” each with completely different access rules. The details are fascinating; and they accidentally reveal a lesson we’ve forgotten about decentralisation. Let’s take a look at each of them;
“First on the list is Kirkland. They keep everything open and allow indexes in their Apache configuration, so a little wget magic is all that’s necessary to download the entire Kirkland facebook. Child’s play.”
Kirkland was wide open. No walls, no locks, anyone could download everything with a few commands.
Kirkland must have been pretty liberal with access to their Facebook, no restrictions at all.
“Next on the list is Eliot. They’re also open, but with no indexes in Apache. I can run an empty search and it returns all of the images in the database in a single page…”
Also pretty open, but with a small twist, no directory indexes.
Still, an empty search revealed all images on a single page, so access was almost as easy as Kirkland.
“Lowell has some security. They require a username/password combo to access the facebook… Maybe there’s a single username/password combo that all of Lowell knows… time to get myself a matching name and student id combo for Lowell and I’m in.”
Lowell introduced authentication, a small move toward isolation.
But even then, it relied on shared student IDs, tying it back to a larger authority.
Local control, yes, but not independence. It’s the same pattern we see in networks that call themselves decentralised but still depend on a global identity system.
“Adams has no security but limits the number of results to twenty a page…”
No security at all, but results were limited to twenty per page.
Downloading everything was a little slower, but the same script used for Lowell worked just fine.
“Quincy has no online facebook, what a sham. Nothing I can do about that.”
Back then, Quincy’s absence might’ve looked backward, no data to scrape, no connection to make. But in hindsight, it feels like the smartest choice.
No exposure meant no dependency, no leaks, no bridge to exploit. Quincy didn’t need to exist online to exist at all.
True sovereignty sometimes looks like silence.
“Dunster is intense. Not only is there no public directory, but there’s no directory at all… Once you do get results, they don’t link directly to the images; they link to a php that redirects or something. Weird.”
No public directory at all, you had to search to find anything.
Searches that returned more than 20 matches gave nothing, and image links went through redirects instead of pointing directly to the pictures.
It’s a reminder that some systems make interaction intentionally difficult, showing how access rules can limit connectivity even when everything exists technically.
“Leverett is a little better. They still make you search, but you can do an empty search and get links to pages with every student’s picture… They only let you view one picture at a time…”
You could do an empty search and get links to every student’s page, but only view one picture at a time.
It shows that even when a system lets you access everything, the way it’s structured can slow you down or guide how you interact, a small taste of how rules shape connectivity.
“Mather is basically the same as Leverett, except they break their directory down into classes. There aren’t any freshmen in their facebook… how weak.”
Similar to Leverett, but the directory was broken down by class, no freshmen included.
It was organised, but each class was basically its own mini-network. A hint that even small differences in access rules can change how “connected” a system feels.
Each dorm had its own rule set, its own authentication method, its own boundaries.
No shared protocol. No single sign-on. No global bridge.
It was inconsistent, fragmented, and deeply local, but it was sovereign.
Each node existed on its own terms.
That’s what true decentralisation looks like: a patchwork of systems that don’t have to talk to each other to survive.
The moment you introduce a “universal protocol,” you create a new centre. Someone has to maintain it, update it, coordinate it, and that’s where power creeps back in.
Everyone building the “next internet” wants things to work together, Bluesky with ActivityPub, Nostr with everything else. It sounds ideal. But we should be careful what we wish for.
Connection creates convenience. Convenience creates hierarchy. And hierarchy is how decentralisation quietly dies.
Maybe the lesson from those old Harvard dorms is this:
Real decentralisation isn’t about everyone talking to each other. It’s about everyone being free not to.
Sometimes, like Quincy, the most decentralised network is the one that never comes online.
https://kidsper.wordpress.com/2010/11/28/mark-zuckerbergs-livejournal-blog-post/
https://indiegroundfilms.wordpress.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/01/social-network-the-may-28-09.pdf