"KEVIN SYSTROM, THE CEO of Instagram, was at Disneyland last June when he decided the internet was a cesspool that he had to clean up. His company was hosting a private event at the park as part of VidCon 2016, an annual gathering that attracts social media virtuosos, and Systrom was meeting with some Instagram stars. They were chatting and joking and posing for one another's phone cameras. But the influencers were also upset. Instagram is supposed to be a place for self-expression and joy. Who wants to express themselves, though, if they're going to be mocked, harassed, and shamed in the comments below a post? Instagram is a bit like Disneyland-if every now and then the seven dwarfs hollered at Snow White for looking fat.
AFTER THE CHAT, Systrom, who is 33, posted a Boomerang video of himself crouched among the celebrities. It's an ebullient shot of about 20 young people swaying, waving, bobbing, and smiling. In the lower right corner, a young woman bangs her knees together and waves her hand like she's beating eggs for a soufflé.
The comments on that post started out with a heart emoji, a "Hoooooo," and "So fun!" Soon, though, the thread, as so often happens online, turned rancid, with particular attention focused on the young woman in the lower right. "Don't close wait just wait OPEN them leg baby," "cuck," "succ," "cuck," "Gimme ze suc." "Succ4succ." "Succme." "Go to the window and take a big L E A P out of it." A number of comments included watermelon emoji, which, depending on context, can be racist, sexist, or part of picnic planning. The newly resurgent alt-right proclaimed over and over again that "#memelivesmatter." There was a link in Arabic to a text page about economic opportunities in Dubai. Another user asked Systrom to follow him-"Follback @kevin." And a few brave people piped up to offer feedback on Instagram's recent shift to ordering posts by relevancy rather than recency: "BRING BACK THE CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER!"
Systrom is a tall, lean man with a modest bearing. His handshake is friendly, his demeanor calm. He's now a billionaire, but he doesn't seem to play the alpha male games of his peers. There is no yacht; there are no visits to the early primary states; there is no estranged former partner with an NDA. Systrom's personal Instagram feed is basically dogs, coffee, bikes, and grinning celebrities. A few years ago, Valleywag described his voice as "the stilted monotone of a man reading his own obituary," but he's become much smoother of late. If he has a failing, his critics say, it's that he's a sucker: He and his cofounder, Mike Krieger, sold Instagram to Facebook too soon. They'd launched it a few years after graduating from Stanford, and it went into orbit immediately. They got $1 billion for it. Snap, which spurned an offer from Facebook, is now worth roughly $17 billion.
Systrom takes pride in this reputation for kindness and considers it a key part of Instagram's DNA. When the service launched in 2010, he and Krieger deleted hateful comments themselves. They even personally banned users in an effort Systrom called "pruning the trolls." He notes that Krieger "is always smiling and always kind," and he says he tries to model his behavior after that of his wife, "one of the nicest people you'll ever meet." Kevin Systrom really does want to be the sunny person on display in @kevin's feed.
So when Systrom returned from VidCon to Instagram's headquarters, in Menlo Park, he told his colleagues that they had a new mission. Instagram was going to become a kind of social media utopia: the nicest darn place online." - Read Full Story
