Interested in how we live on social media now - and how it’s changed since its early days? My debut bestselling non-fiction book Social Capital looks at that, and then some. Order it from your favourite online store - or pick it up in your local bookshop.
It took two (kind) offers of BlueSky Social codes before I actually committed. And now that I’ve been granted access to Jack Dorsey and co’s Twitter/X alternative, I’m not sure I even want to post on it. I’m a former Twitter nut stuck in social media ambivalence land. How did I get here?
When I was writing the introduction to my book Social Capital, Twitter was being bought by Elon Musk and things were going spectacularly badly. As a result, longtime users were moving on to decentralised alternatives like Mastodon, and so I wrote about how when it came to the future of social media, people were looking to the past.
I was thinking back then about how decentralised servers were like the forums of old, but as 2023 has rolled on I’ve seen how people also want to go backwards by turning BlueSky into Twitter circa 2010. I loved Twitter back then - it helped me build a career, make friends, establish myself in Dublin, learn loads of exciting things, express myself and waste time (oh god, have I wasted precious time there).
I don’t like Twitter/X now, as the ‘bad man takes over company’ narrative has continued to roll out exactly as everyone suspected it would. In some ways it’s the same place it’s been for the past 3 or so years, since Covid tipped it over into a land of bad behaviour, but in other ways it has changed irreparably. Part of the reason why the joy has been sapped out of Twitter/X is because it’s clear that the user cohort I fit into (ie the kind Musk wouldn’t cater to) is not being listened to when it comes to user experience. It’s his company. If I don’t like it, I can leave. Grand. (Not so grand for the people at the receiving end of abuse or misinformation, though.)
But part of the issue with social media is that when the platforms are growing it feels like the owners are listening to the users, and that our voices matter. That our voices are actually making the sites what they are. And yes, the different platforms do keep a close eye on user behaviour and respond accordingly, and also have relationships with power users like influencers. They would be nothing without their users, and some of their users would be nothing without them. But generally we can forget that though we’re not paying we are still a ‘customer’, and though the platforms can cater for us in some ways, they will not have to cater for us forever.
Yet because sites like Twitter and BlueSky are built by using people’s words, opinions, images, beliefs and desires, the sites feel like they are created of us and by us, and we begin to feel a strangely tangible ownership over them. That’s in large part why over on BlueSky people are rejoicing about how like the ‘old’ Twitter it is, with how much of ‘our’ (read: non-Musk fans) voices are on there and with how it seems ‘we’ have the run of the place. I’ve read skeets (yes, that’s what posts are called on there, sorry) declaring how amazing it is to be on the site, how finally it feels like the good old days.
But after spending over 18 months working on my book and well over 15 years on social media, I’m not eager to post on BlueSky. I joined so I could keep my username, and have posted once. I pop in occasionally to see what’s happening, and it does indeed feel like Twitter of old. But I’m not the same person I was when I first joined Twitter, and when it comes to my social media behaviour I have learned lessons from being so online that I don’t want to repeat on BlueSky. (Also, once you read So, You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, you’ll always have a wariness around how people behave online.)
It makes me a little sad, really, to realise that something that was such a huge part of my life feels so different to me now. That I don’t want to dive into BlueSky like I did Twitter and skeet my little heart away.
But it makes me wonder too if people have forgotten all that has come before BlueSky - is there some sort of collective amnesia, or am I just keeping those bad memories of Twitter too front of mind? Is my scepticism grounded in fear rather than reality? Or have we learned enough lessons from the public shaming, pile-ons, self-aggrandising tweets, weird cultish behaviour, misinformation, reply guys (etc etc etc) on Twitter that it means BlueSky won’t be home to the same?
I do think my scepticism is related to aging and recent life experiences, but it’s also due to knowing and experiencing too much about being online, and feeling a deep pull away from oversharing - even away from sharing much at all, and away from building up a ‘personality’ or ‘profile’ on a new site. After decades of posting online, it can feel sometimes like unless I share something publicly (case in point: this here newsletter), it doesn’t exist. I think more and more about my motivation for sharing now, rather than just giving into the impulse.
I tend to post mostly on Instagram these days, and even that is mainly because my friends and family are on there. I post in fits and bursts, mostly publicising work I’m doing as I want to be visible as a freelancer and also draw attention to the people I’m writing about and for. But I am troubled some of the behaviour and trends on Instagram, and I do seriously worry about the impact of them on people’s sense of self (too much to go into in this newsletter!). And yet I would be lost without the ability to contact people through it, and I do love expressing myself on it, and seeing other people express themselves too.
I wonder about this social media ambivalence I’m feeling, and how shared it is - it must in large part be why some people are so drawn to writing and reading newsletters. I understand the relief of having a newsletter audience that feels a little protected from the world, versus posting something on Twitter.
It’s hard for us to understand the impact of social media on our lives right now as we swim in the soup. But I think that before moving to a site like BlueSky, which sets itself up as an alternative to but also a cousin of Twitter, we should ask ourselves: do I really need to join here?
If it’s a solid yes, more power to you. But if you’re less sure, it’s an interesting experiment to figure out exactly why. Are you joining out of curiosity, out of desire or out of FOMO?
After seeing the way Twitter/X has gone, and the impact overall of social media on ourselves and others, I’m sure I’m not the only person who’s second-guessing what she should do with her social media future. I don’t want to fully step away, but I’m using a lot more caution than in years past.
Is this something you’re experiencing too? I’d love to hear more in the comments.
Recent articles I’ve written:
I visited Graphic Studio Dublin to interview the painter Cian McLoughlin and master printer Niamh Flanagan - it was a delight and the results are in Sunday Times Culture today (8 October)
I spoke to the team behind the fascinating Dublin Theatre Festival play This Solution (Shaun Dunne’s latest work) - read about it in the Irish Times here
Last week I wrote about an Irish transgender soldier, Albert Cashier - another fascinating piece to work on - for Sunday Times Culture
I contributed to this massive culture round-up with the best podcasts out in the autumn/winter for the Irish Independent
I’ve also been tutoring a course for Creative Skillnet on Writing for an Online Audience, which has been a wonderful experience so far.
Culture recommendations
I finished the 1991 novel Regeneration by Pat Barker (about Siegfried Sassoon and other soldiers impacted by WW1, and their work with the psychologist WHR Rivers) and immediately ordered the next two books in the trilogy. Then I watched Benediction by the now late British director Terence Davies, which is also about Sassoon - kind of theatrical in places but so very sad, and I’m always a fan of Jack Lowden on screen. I found this (republished) interview with Davies so moving when I read it last year. He seemed so lovely. I also finished Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, and though my attention span is absolutely shot to bits I really, really enjoyed it - and I learned a lot about gaming, which I know next to nothing about. There wasn’t a word out of place and the character building and story building was intricate and thoughtful. There were many deeply emotional parts to it - I can feel why it’s such a meaningful book to people.
Hi Aoife, I left social media land once I got ill with long COVID and I've not looked back. I'm thankfully much better now after 2 years of illness. At the time chronic fatigue meant I was easily drained and could barely take in essential information regarding my family nevermind the world and culture at large. I'm a musician and activist with my own band which meant having to be on social media for promoting gigs, sharing information etc. I was constantly distracted and wondering if this picture, this experience, this part of my day was worthy of sharing with the world.
Now I do my best to appreciate the landscape, my time, my energy for me, not for anyone or anything else. It's been enlightening to witness how little I enjoyed life for myself.
I do miss the solidarity of activists in early Twitter days yet I've found other ways to contribute and stay informed; ways which I can control to an extent. I'm not being overwhelmed by voices of the many, conflicting and asserting into a void of noise. I choose my voices, get to know them more fully through places like this.
I don't feel I'm missing out, although once I'm ready to gig again I may need to reassess. I'd love to navigate performing without it but that's too ponder another time.