The great thing about social media was how it gave a voice to

Hear, O listeners of the digital age, the words of Jon Ronson, who observed: “The great thing about social media was how it gave a voice to voiceless people.” Within this statement lies a truth both radiant and perilous—the awakening of the world’s silent multitudes through the instruments of technology. It speaks to an era when those once unheard could finally be seen, when power shifted from the few to the many, and the whisper of one could echo across the earth. Yet it is also a reflection of the double-edged nature of all revolutions: for every liberation carries with it the risk of excess, and every voice raised in freedom must learn the weight of its echo.

In ancient times, only kings, priests, and poets had the power to speak to the masses. The rest were but listeners, bound by class, gender, or circumstance to the margins of silence. But behold how the ages have changed: the rise of social media shattered these barriers, turning every person into a storyteller, every citizen into a witness. No longer must one plead for a platform; the platform is already in their hand. With a few words or images, one can move hearts, expose injustice, or awaken a generation. Ronson’s words celebrate this moment—the moment when humanity learned to speak not through rulers, but through the collective voice of the people.

And yet, this gift was not born in comfort, but in conflict. Consider the story of Malala Yousafzai, who began with nothing but her pen and her will. Through the written word and later the reach of social media, her cry for education for girls resounded across the world. Her voice, once confined to a small valley, became a beacon for millions. This is the essence of Ronson’s quote: the power of connection, the democratization of expression, the triumph of one voice multiplied by the network of humanity itself.

But in every light there is shadow. Ronson, who studied the effects of public shaming in the digital age, knew that the same voice that can lift up the powerless can also destroy without mercy. The “voiceless” gained their voices—but not all learned wisdom in how to wield them. The chorus of the many can become a storm of judgment; the righteous call for justice can turn to mob outrage. Thus, the quote is both admiration and warning. Social media gave humanity a tool of immense reach—but as with fire, it can warm or consume, depending on who holds it and how it is used.

The ancients spoke of this same tension in another form. The philosopher Socrates, though he lived long before the internet, understood the danger of unexamined speech. He warned that knowledge without reflection can lead to ruin. And so it is today: while the platforms grant power, the mind must grant discernment. For to have a voice is a responsibility, not merely a right. The wise do not speak to destroy, but to build; not to inflame, but to enlighten.

The deeper meaning of Ronson’s reflection, then, is a call for ethical communication—for the union of empathy and expression. To speak as one of the voiceless is to bear the duty of truth. To listen to the voiceless is to practice compassion. The greatness of social media lies not in the noise it creates, but in the bridges it builds—between nations, between strangers, between those who once believed themselves alone.

Therefore, let this be the lesson: use your voice not as a weapon, but as a torch. Speak for those who cannot, but speak with care and clarity. Seek to uplift, not to silence; to reveal, not to wound. For if the world is now a chorus of countless voices, then harmony—born of empathy and wisdom—is the truest form of strength.

Thus, the words of Jon Ronson endure as both celebration and caution: social media, in its vast reach, has given humanity a second tongue—one that speaks to the world. Whether that tongue brings healing or harm depends on the heart that moves it. And so the ancient wisdom still applies: speak not to be heard, but to make others understood. For that is the true power of giving a voice to the voiceless.