It’s controversial to have hope for the internet these days. Dead internet theory, stating that the internet is being overtaken and, eventually, will only be inhabited by bots, is entering mainstream discourse as AI social accounts multiply and compete for what flavor of slop comes after Italian brainrot. People are arguing with fake people, and creators have to clarify that they didn’t use AI to make the work they share. Culture commenters are writing about the death of the open internet as people retreat from this phenomenon into dark forests, private spaces like group chats that aren’t discoverable from the web.In the midst of all this uncertainty, many blame AI companies for unleashing the beast. But in the end, those abusing this technology for botting are just playing the game set by the owners of the modern-day internet. Instagram, Reddit, and other major social platforms are built to prioritize audience capture and engagement, not community wellness. The AI is just doing what computers do best—optimizing for a given constraint, and the platforms sell more ads off their virtual backs.With all this happening, it’s easy to forget there’s still so much life thriving on the open Internet. From rural forums, towns, and fridge walls to community-run encyclopedias and maps, pockets of humanity continue to flourish despite (& perhaps now, in part, in spite) of these existential fears. Messages tossed into the void come back as real friends, collaborators, partners. Strangers meet up spontaneously after shared struggle. Earnestness shines through even in “content” manufactured for spread.To believe in each other, we must believe in the open Internet.If dead internet theory posits that the internet will eventually become only bots, alive internet theory proclaims we will never let the open internet die. We will always find a way to look for each other, to answer a call for help, to share a laugh and an argument right after one another. If there’s one trait of the human