I was 34 when the concept of the World Wide Web first came to me. I seized every chance to discuss it, presenting it in meetings, sketching it on whiteboards, or even carving it into the snow on ski poles during what was supposed to be a leisurely day with friends.

I approached the venerable folks at the European Nuclear Research Institute (CERN), where I first encountered this idea. “A bit eccentric” they said, but eventually, they relented and allowed me to pursue it. My vision involved merging two existing computer technologies: the Internet and hypertext, which facilitates linking standard documents with “links.”

I was convinced that if users had an effortless method to navigate the Internet, it would unleash creativity and collaboration on a global scale. Given time, anything could find its place online.

However, for the web to encompass everything, it had to be accessible to everyone. This was already a significant ask. Furthermore, we couldn’t ask users to pay for every search or upload they generated. To thrive, it had to be free. Hence, in 1993, CERN’s management made the pivotal decision to donate the World Wide Web’s intellectual property, placing it in the public domain. We handed over the web to everyone.

Today, as I reflect on my invention, I find myself questioning: Is the web truly free today? Not entirely. We witness a small number of large platforms extracting users’ private data and distributing it to commercial brokers and oppressive governments. We face omnipresent, addictive algorithms that negatively impact the mental health of teenagers. The exploitation of personal data for profit stands in stark contrast to my vision of a free web.

On many platforms, we are no longer customers; we have become products. Even our anonymous data is sold to entities we never intended to reach, allowing them to target us with specific content and advertisements. This includes deliberately harmful content that incites real-world violence, spreads misinformation, disrupts psychological well-being, and undermines social cohesion.

There is a technical solution to return that agency to the individual. SOLID is an open-source interoperability standard that my team and I developed at MIT more than a decade ago. Applications utilizing SOLID do not automatically own your data; they must request it, allowing you to decide whether to grant permission. Instead of having your data scattered across various locations on the Internet, under the control of those who could profit from it, you can manage it all in one place.

Sharing your information intelligently can lead to its liberation. Why do smartwatches store biological data in one silo? Why does a credit card categorize financial data in another format altogether? Why are comments on YouTube, posts on Reddit, updates on Facebook, and tweets all locked away in disparate places? Why is there a default expectation that you shouldn’t have access to this data? You create all this data: your actions, choices, body, preferences, decisions, and beyond. You must claim ownership of it. You should leverage it to empower yourself.

Somewhere between my original vision for Web 1.0 and the emergence of social media with Web 2.0, we veered off path. We stand at a new crossroads, one that will determine whether AI will serve to enhance or harm society. How do we learn from the mistakes of the past? Firstly, we must avoid repeating the decade-long lag that policymakers experienced with social media. Deciding on an AI governance model cannot be delayed; action is imperative.

In 2017, I composed a thought experiment regarding AI that works for you. I named it Charlie. Charlie is designed to serve you, similar to your doctor or lawyer, adhering to legal standards and codes of conduct. Why shouldn’t AI operate within the same framework? From our experiences with social media, we learned that power resides in monopolizing the control and collection of personal data. We cannot allow the same to happen with AI.

So, how do we progress? Much of the discontent with democracy in the 21st century stems from governments being sluggish in addressing the needs of digital citizens. The competitive landscape of the AI industry is ruthless, with development and governance largely dictated by corporations. The lesson from social media is clear: this does not create value for individuals.

I developed the World Wide Web on a single computer in a small room at CERN. This room was not mine; it belonged to CERN, an institution established in the wake of World War II by the United Nations and European governments, recognizing historical and scientific milestones that called for international collaboration. It’s challenging to envision a large tech company sharing the World Wide Web without the commercial perks that CERN secured. This highlights our need for nonprofits like CERN to propel international AI research.

We provided the World Wide Web freely because I believed its value lay in its accessibility for all. Today, I hold this belief more strongly than ever. While regulation and global governance are technically achievable, they depend on political will. If we can harness that will, we have the chance to reclaim the web as a medium for collaboration, creativity, and compassion across cultural barriers. Individuals can be reorganized, and we can reclaim the web. It is not too late.

Tim Berners-Lee is the author of This is for everyone (McMillan).

Read more

Innovators by Walter Isaacson (Simon & Schuster, £10.99)

The Web We Weave by Jeff Jarvis (Basic, £25)

The History of the Internet in Byte-Sized Chunks by Chris Stokell Walker (Michael O’Mara, £12.99)