This is a facetious hypothetical. Deliberately so. I don’t want my Twitter timeline filled with people giving out to me.
Let’s say a gameshow host is asked what they think about daylight saving. The answer consists of 10 sentences, uttered in a moderate tone of voice. These sentences can be full of nuance, or they can be ill-thought-out tripe; that doesn’t matter. What matters is that their opinion will be boiled down to a headline: “Furious gameshow host slams clocks going backwards.”
A link to the story will be posted on Twitter, and seconds later people will start reacting to it. In many cases, they won’t be reacting to the original 10 sentences, but to the headline. In many cases, they will be people who have been arguing about daylight saving for many years, in the course of which they have been subject to all sorts of vile abuse: even threats of physical harm, rape or death. For them, it’s not just about the issue, but how the other side conduct themselves. Those in favour of dumping daylight saving will regard the gameshow host as defending them against the invective they have endured; those who want to retain it will now see the gameshow host as having endorsed the use of threats.
When Elon Musk finally took over the company, American Twitter had a largely predictable range of reactions
The bewildered gameshow host’s timeline will fill up with praise from some and condemnation from others. It may well include abuse and threats.
The gameshow host has the choice of deleting their Twitter account (generating more headlines) or embarking on the protracted process of reporting the abusive tweets. None of this will have changed their mind about the issue of daylight saving: more likely, it will bring them to regret ever having said anything about it in the first place. From expressing what they thought was a reasonable opinion, they are now being depicted as someone who supports rape.
[ Seán Moncrieff: I’m more boring in person than some people expectOpens in new window ]
But that’s Twitter. It’s designed to promote gut reactions in the shortest number of characters. Every issue, no matter how complex, is boiled down to a series of competing declarations and the near-irresistible lure of turning any debate into a screaming match. I’ve been on Twitter for 13 years and I’ve always found it to be like that.
In fairness, not just that: Twitter can also be funny and friendly and informative. It can be a place of kindness, and there are many accounts genuinely aimed at making their part of the world a better place. People will have different experiences. For me, it’s professionally useful.
It’s just the sales pitch of Twitter being a benign digital town square: a bit like ancient Athens, with philosophers gathering to interrogate the nature of existence; Twitter was never like that, and to give my hot take, never will be like that.
When Elon Musk finally took over the company, American Twitter had a largely predictable range of reactions: people on the left threatening to leave, others arguing that they should stay and fight. Supporters of Musk were of course delighted. But not because they had thrown off the shackles of Big Brother censorship: not withstanding some of the high-profile examples, Twitter’s “moderation” has always been extremely light touch. Their delight stemmed from the fact that this would wind up liberals. And in that, they have a far better understanding of how political “debate” on Twitter works. The aim isn’t to change hearts and minds, but simply to antagonise the enemy. It’s a football match, with the competing supporters chanting at each other.
I could be wrong. It’s possible that the richest man in the world will come up with an algorithm to transform Twitter into a place that fosters mutual respect. But what he can’t change is human nature. The most disturbing aspect of Twitter has been its consistent ability to reveal people at their absolute worst: craven, spiteful, festering in hate. It’s only off-line that you can try to fix that.