By Raheel Waqar I attended a workshop under the project titled “Digital Trust and Free Expression in the AI Era” at the Department of Media and Development Communication, University of the Punjab, supported by the U.S. Mission to Pakistan in partnership with the Pakistan-U.S. Alumni Network (PUAN) last week. During the discussions on digital trust, I remembered that a few months ago, I received a call from a friend who is a small business owner and runs a modest page selling handcrafted candles. She told me that her posts had suddenly stopped getting reaching people. No warning. No explanation. Her engagement dropped overnight, and when she contacted the platform, she received a flat, nonanswer. She wasn’t banned. She wasn’t warned. She was just… quieter. That is essentially the shadow-ban dilemma, and I believe it is one of the least discussed problems of trust in the age of AI. There is a reason for algorithmic moderation exists. The volume of content shared on a platform daily is far too large to be managed by humans alone. AI systems can now detect hate speech, misinformation, spam, and harassment faster than an entire team of human moderators. Theoretically, this creates a safer and more livable Internet. But where I differ from current structure is that moderation operates as black box, and the worst offender is shadow banning, silently restricting a user without informing them. If a platform explicitly rejects you, you can appeal, argue, or move on. Shadow-banning removes even the most basic dignity. You face punishment without knowing the charges; you are not shown the evidence and are rarely given any avenues for reclamation. I genuinely believe that trust is the digital currency. We bring our voices, our business, and our relationships to these platforms, expecting something close to a level playing field, even if imperfect. Shadow-banning violates that implied contract. It assumes the rules are clear while relying opaque algorithms, and doubt becomes corrosive. Users begin to question each drop in engagement. Was it the algorithm? Was it just a bad week? Did I say something wrong? This uncertainty leads to confusion and self-censorship, which is not healthy foundation for a digital public square. Moreover, the phenomenon of shadow-banning disproportionately effects those without influence, legal support, or the media visibility. A major creator, with millions of followers, may get a quick, individualized explanation when something goes wrong. My friend, the candle-seller, heard nothing. This imbalance is significant if free expression online is to be practiced, not not merely discussed — by everyone. I don’t believe that the solution is to eliminate moderation entirely. The combination of harassment, spam, and bad-faith users who overwhelm others makes a total freeforall unusable within minutes. As anyone who has used an unmoderated platform knows how quickly it becomes impossible to navigate when spam and abuse take over. When people are constantly shouted down, free expression is not free. However, there is a difference between moderation and invisible moderation. Platforms can reduce the reach of harmful content without disrespecting or degrading the users by withholding explanations. The technology to notify users already exists. What is missing is the will. In my own re-design of this system, three principles would guide it: A user should be notified, not in a lucky screenshot of a “test” a month later, but in a clear, timely notice to explain the general reason that their content or reach is being limited. It is not theatre; it is meaningful appeal. Many platforms claim to offer appeals, but these are often routed to another algorithm or a human who skims for a few seconds. Real appeal is a true second look with actual power to correct an error. Not all infractions are equal and deserve the same silence and indefinite containment. It is not the same as coordinated harassment campaigns; it is not borderline, or an honest mistake, or satire. There is nothing impossible for this. It is a matter of priorities. Transparency costs platforms something; it exposes them to scrutiny and disagreement. I am not opposed to algorithmic moderation. Used responsibly, it can make the internet more habitable space for all, particularly for those who are disproportionately targeted by harassment and abuse. However, moderation that is not transparent is not safety; it is control disguised as safety. In a world where artificial intelligence systems increasingly decide who is heard and who is quietly muted, we must hold these systems accountable for their explanations. Platforms that merely claim that they know how to handle moderation, do not build trust. Trust is constructed by showing their work. Shadow-banning is not just a technical issue; it is a question of what kind of digital public square we want to inhabit and whether we will insist on honest, accountable moderation. The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this blog are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the U.S. Mission to Pakistan or USEFP/PUAN. Raheel Waqar is a student of Media and Development Communication at University of the Punjab, Lahore and can be reached at raheelwaqar540@gmail.com.
