In the past several weeks, some people believed that Twitter, one of the biggest social media platforms in the world with up to 400 million users, was headed toward its downfall. That claim was based on the long-lasting conflict that started when Elon Musk — CEO of Tesla and SpaceX and a sometimes world’s richest man — offered to buy out the company last April. After a tumultuous process that involved a few lawsuits and its fair share of controversy, the deal became effective by the end of October, thus making Musk the owner of the company.
It wasn’t just a change of ownership. During his first month, Musk implemented several — and somehow abrupt — measures. He started charging $20 for the blue check mark, that is, for the verification status; then, he bargained to $8, causing a cascade of impersonations on the platform; he fired an unknown, but clearly high, number of employees; and then he stopped charging for the blue check altogether. Among some users, all these sudden moves didn’t give off the impression of a steady pilot version, and many started believing that this was a sinking ship. That’s when a new idea started to gain speed: the answer was to leave Twitter. But what does “leaving Twitter” mean, exactly?
What Could Be Lost With Twitter
Social media has been around for a while now. Facebook was founded more than 18 years ago: it’s grown up already, although a young one – younger than its average users’ median age. In contrast, Twitter can already apply for a driver’s license. We live in a world where social media platforms are not a novelty but a vital part of our social tissue. A whole generation of trends, political movements and people have grown along with them. This is their ecosystem. This is their home.
Twitter profits on people but, like most social media companies, offers them something in return: content. However, the way it’s generated is different from other platforms. According to a survey made by Pew Research Center in 2018, 80% of the tweets come from just 10% of the accounts; most users hardly ever tweet. And even though a scarce 10% is responsible for most of the content, that doesn’t mean that these users necessarily have a big audience. They just have an audience: a community, a circle of belonging. That’s what they believe is being threatened.
The answer to that threat, for some, is to run away. However, it’s unclear if this could be considered a kind of activism. It doesn’t seem to have goals or programs; it doesn’t want to change the world. And it’s not precisely related to Twitter’s informative side, although some people believed the conflict between Musk and certain prominent users mirrored the clash between old and new media.
The Importance of Being (Online)
However, this is not at all strange. In his essay “Becoming and Belonging,” Rob Cover states that social media platforms “operate as a space for the continued, ongoing construction of subjectivity.” Our online personas are not a vain projection of a monolithic inner self nor an alternate reality populated by masks and disguises. Our activity on social media is one of the many ways in which we build our own subjectivity. What we do there is as much a part of our identity as the church we attend, the kind of haircut that we choose or who we vote for. It’s all part of the same performance.
During the past few years, people have grown up on Twitter. From the “big three” —Facebook, Instagram and Twitter — it was, in a way, the most anonymous, the least associated with our material lives. Dril is one of the most famous accounts ever, and almost nobody knows who he is. If Instagram’s objective is to brag, Twitter’s aim is to make ourselves more emotion-driven. You don’t need a recognizable face in your avatar to do that.
Identity-wise, Twitter was the most flexible platform out of the “big three,” where people could be better placed than where they once were socially – by gaining higher social leverage. For some heavy users, for that scarce 10%, this factor was crucial. People were known only by their handles, and they discussed, loved and hated each other without even seeing each other’s faces. That was a big part of their identity.
They built a kind of community on Twitter, the so-called “modern town square.” And even though the mechanics of public debate can be reconstructed somewhere else, that can’t be said of that net of subtexts, shared insights and codes, and affections. You may be able to replicate the town square in Mastodon, as some people are so eager to believe, but you can’t replicate a home.
What Lies Ahead
It’s unclear what’s going to happen with Twitter. The “leaving Twitter” motto has been more an expression of protest (or desire) than a reality. So far, most predictions have failed: Twitter is still working — for now — and users haven’t all moved to Tumblr, Mastodon or Reddit.
This seems to suggest that it’s not wise to make prophecies; the future has a knack for surprises. It’s important to understand that Twitter is a specific medium and that, as such, produces a specific kind of subjective performance. For some people (heavy, longstanding users), it’s a key part of their identity. It can’t be replaced; it can’t be easily translated, and if it dies, it can’t be resuscitated. You can only build it from scratch.
