Banished from Facebook


I have been banned from Facebook, and told by the social-media platform the exile is forever.


My account was “permanently disabled” in mid-May for breaches of Facebook’s Community Standards on “account integrity,” broadly defined as anything “harmful to the community.” 


That’s as specific as the violations got. This must be what terrorists feel like. (Wrongly accused ones, of course.)


For me, the brave new social-media/networking world is over, and it’s back to old-school reality. But I’m getting ahead of myself. 


To this point, a few weeks post banishment, my take-away is that Facebook can do whatever it wants: Meta, the parent company, is master of its online world, and can dictate who lives there/on what terms. 


Facebook is not an online extension of the community we live in, but a business often mistaken for it.


I made the mistake myself, until 2023, when Facebook took away the right in Canada to share news links on its platform.


It only dawned on me then that there are no rights on Facebook, and now, of course, I can say with authority that you only exist there at Meta’s pleasure. 


Because I don’t. 


“In order to maintain a safe environment and empower free expression, we restrict or remove accounts that are harmful to the community,” reads Facebook’s policy on account integrity. 



What post(s) warranted my banishment?


What post(s) caused such offence for Facebook to erase me?


I have no idea, and Facebook won’t/doesn’t have to tell me. 


The loss of my account is huge — including thousands of personal and professional contacts gathered over 15-plus years on the platform, as well as the means to contact each one through Facebook Messenger, where I’m also banned. 


My page served as a daily journal through my life as a journalist, politician, union leader, advocate, amateur historian, father, and friend. 


FISH-NL, the upstart fish harvesters’ union, lived and died on Facebook. More inshore boats bobbed on my personal page than in any harbour. 


Over the years I organized forums, conducted polls, purchased advertising, shopped, dated, and documented much of my life on my personal Facebook page. 


I stirred the pot, and questioned the very merits of Confederation in light of the absence of a fair national energy policy, and disastrous commercial fishery policy for Newfoundland and Labrador. 


Indeed, the Pink, White, and Green flew on my Facebook homepage, the same flag that once flew from the masthead of The Independent newspaper I once led. (I am nothing but consistent.) 


I never shied away from my stand as a NLer first, but always in the context of a respectful Canadian. I strived to make sure my posts were above reproach, ones that I could only hope my children would read. 


With the exception of several seal videos/pictures that were removed from my Facebook page several years ago for graphic stomach content, I had not received any discipline, no warnings or otherwise. 


Not until a Sunday evening in early May when Facebook suspended my account. 


I was immediately walked through an internal appeal process that included providing a copy of my driver’s licence, and a full facial scan. 


I assumed (which is never advised) the problem was identity theft, and sent along a picture of my ID, and agreed to the scan.


My account was reactivated about a week later, and I made two posts before it was “permanently disabled” the very next day (only after taking another copy of my ID/facial scan.) 


One post was a picture of the fishing boats of Old Perlican, and the other a quote from the late, great Newfoundland writer Ray Guy to mark the May 14th anniversary of his death. 



"And if some of you see your way clear, find yourself a dear and fine Country with a far greater bay. If no one else does, call yourself to the colours of that Country. Give the enemies of that Country no quarter and hang them high on the mighty and splendid Cape of your own choosing.”


You don’t suppose Facebook took that literally?


In the end, I’m thankful to Facebook for setting me free from a platform that is clearly more cage than community. 


Ryan Cleary is a former journalist, politician, union leader, and inshore fisheries advocate who currently works in the province’s fishing industry. He lives in St. John’s. 

Comments

Geoff Meeker said…
I went through the exact same thing with Facebook late in November. No reason was offered, but I was given two chances to prove that I was indeed Geoff Meeker. The first - using second factor authentication - seemed to work, but a few hours later they came at me again, this time ordering me to upload a live video of myself. After that, I was given the boot. If you went through that, I pretty much know what happened: someone created a fake profile using your name and photos, then reported YOUR profile as fake. In my case, there were two such profiles that both reported me at once.

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