The URL Is the Centre of the Web

Why the web should be organised around URLs, not platforms

In my previous article, The Web Became Disconnected, I argued that something important had changed about the internet. Conversations drifted away from the pages they were about. Discovery became increasingly driven by platforms and algorithms rather than curiosity. Knowledge became scattered across social networks, newsletters, forums, podcasts and messaging apps that rarely remained connected to the information that inspired them.

The web became richer in content, yet poorer in context and discovery.

But what can be done about it? The answer has been staring us in the face all along: the Uniform Resource Locator, or URL. One of the simplest and most important ideas the web ever introduced.

The Web’s Original Organising Principle

Every webpage has an address: its URL. It is such a known concept that we barely think about it any more, yet it is one of the great innovations in computing. A URL gives every page an identity and allows it to participate in the same open technical framework as every other page on the web.

It does not matter whether that page belongs to a government, a university, a multinational company, a local newspaper, a small business or someone writing from their bedroom. The web itself does not judge. It gives every page an address and makes it possible to publish, discover, reference, challenge and connect it.

The URL is also fundamental to the decentralised nature of the web. No single company controls the links between pages. No platform must approve a website before it can participate. Independent people and organisations can publish on their own domains, retain control of their work and still connect openly with the rest of the network.

This is decentralisation in the web’s original sense: a shared structure that nobody exclusively controls.

That does not mean every page is equally valuable. Some contain extraordinary insight, while others are inaccurate, misleading or simply uninteresting. But the web was never designed to make that judgement in advance. It created a level playing field on which every page could earn credibility through evidence, links, references, criticism and continued relevance.

The architecture gives every page equal standing, not equal credibility.

For much of the internet’s history, we followed links from one page to another, discovering independent websites, specialist blogs, personal homepages, forums and communities. The web itself was the destination, and exploration was driven by curiosity.

Platforms Became the Destination

Somewhere along the way, however, we stopped organising our experience of the internet around URLs and started organising it around platforms.

The platform became the destination, while the URL became something shared within it. Increasingly, the visibility of information depended less on the page itself and more on whether a platform chose to surface it. Discovery, reputation and discussion moved into proprietary ecosystems, each with its own algorithms, incentives and rules.

Platforms brought enormous benefits. They made it easier to communicate, publish quickly, find audiences and participate without creating a website of your own. The problem is not that platforms exist. It is that they gradually became the organising principle of an internet whose greatest strength had always been its decentralisation.

The URL never disappeared. We simply stopped treating it as the centre of the web experience.

That change had consequences. Once platforms became the main gateways to information and conversation, they also became the owners of discovery, identity, reputation and, increasingly, the rules governing public discourse. At the same time, knowledge that naturally belonged with a page became scattered across disconnected destinations.

When you read a news article, watch a video, research a company or explore a scientific paper, the original page is often only one part of the story. Experts may have discussed it elsewhere. Researchers may have published responses. Customers may have shared their experiences. Journalists may have uncovered new evidence. Someone may have identified an important error or connected it to a broader idea.

All of this helps us understand the page more completely, yet very little of it remains visibly connected to the page itself.

I think that is backwards. A URL should not merely identify a piece of information. It should act as a shared anchor for the context and knowledge that develop around it.

The URL as an Enduring Anchor

Imagine reading a scientific paper. On the day it is published, it contains the authors’ research and conclusions. Over the following months and years, other researchers attempt to reproduce the results. New papers build upon the work or challenge it. Practical applications emerge. Weaknesses are discovered and better explanations are developed.

Together, those contributions represent a far richer understanding than the original paper alone. Yet today they are fragmented across journals, conferences, blogs, databases and social media instead of remaining clearly connected to the original work that inspired them.

The same pattern exists across almost every type of webpage:

• A company website presents one perspective, while customers, employees and partners contribute others.

• A product page explains what the manufacturer wants you to know, while real-world experience reveals how it performs.

• A government consultation begins a public conversation.

• A news article captures one moment in a story that continues to evolve.

Every webpage has a life beyond the day it is published, but the web provides no easy way for that continuing story to remain connected to it.

This is a missed opportunity. The web solved the problem of publishing information. It never fully solved the problem of accumulating context and knowledge.

Information can be published once. Knowledge grows over time through evidence, experience, criticism, correction, experimentation and discussion. Scientists build upon earlier discoveries. Engineers improve designs. Journalists uncover new facts. Communities find unexpected applications. Experts correct mistakes. Each contribution increases our collective understanding.

Imagine if every URL became the centre of an expanding network of context: related research, expert analysis, corrections, updates, supporting evidence, contradictory evidence, practical experience and connections to related ideas elsewhere on the web.

The original content would remain on its publisher’s domain and in its original state. What would change is the context that could be connected to it.

The URL would become more than an address. It would become the centre of an evolving body of collective knowledge.

This is not simply about making discussion easier to find. It is about changing how we think about the web. A webpage should not always be treated as a static document frozen at the moment it was published. It can also be understood as a living knowledge object whose meaning and value continue to develop as people learn, challenge and build upon it.

The original source remains important. Its authorship, ownership and provenance should be preserved. But it becomes the starting point rather than the entire story.

A Layer, Not Another Platform

A URL-centred web would also be fundamentally different from another centralised platform. It would not require publishers to move their content into a new destination or surrender control of their identity and audience. It would allow knowledge to form around the web as it already exists, strengthening independent pages rather than replacing them.

A knowledge layer for the open web should strengthen the decentralised architecture beneath it rather than trying to replace it. The original content should remain on its publisher’s domain and should not need to be altered or republished inside another platform. Discussion, evidence and related knowledge could instead be connected to it across the web. Such a layer should help preserve provenance by keeping contributions connected to their sources, while making room for a plurality of perspectives within clear and transparent rules.

We have more information than any generation in history. The challenge now is connecting that information with everything humanity continues to learn about it.

That means connecting discussion without losing context, evidence without losing provenance, expertise without losing openness and related ideas without requiring the underlying content to be republished inside a closed platform.

The URL is uniquely suited to become that anchor. It is the web’s universal identifier, independent of any one platform or company. It already tells us where information lives. I believe it can also become the centre for the context, understanding and collective intelligence that develop around that information throughout its lifetime.

If the original web connected documents, perhaps its next chapter should connect knowledge.

Not by replacing the URL, but by allowing it to fulfil a larger role: the enduring address not only of information, but of everything humanity learns about that information.

If The Web Became Disconnected describes what went wrong, then this is the principle that points towards what comes next. The future of the web should not be organised primarily around platforms. It should be organised around URLs, supported by layers that strengthen rather than replace the decentralised web beneath them.

When the URL is once again at the centre, conversation can be reconnected to the page, knowledge can remain connected to the source, and independent voices can contribute while the original pages and publishers remain on the open web.

This is not simply a thought experiment for me. Over the past year, a small team and I have been quietly building towards this vision.

In my next article, I will introduce Prism and explain how we believe it can help reconnect people, ideas and knowledge across the open web.