Qwitter

I haven't tweeted in 2023. That makes me part of a majority of Americans (as of last year, only about a quarter of Americans were on Twitter in any capacity, whereas about double were on Instagram and far more on Facebook). But, as one who at least observed a lot of Extremely Online behavior -- if not being Extremely Online myself -- to think I would go from 60-to-zero basically over the month of December 2022 is pretty remarkable.

That one dude buying the channel and basically maximizing all the stuff people didn't like about the site was the key driver, but it's been an interesting shift. Truth be told, disengaging on there has had a lot of upsides.

Let's be clear: there were some things Twitter was great at. Creative folks put out some laugh-out-loud funny content (that they did this for much of the 140-character era was even more remarkable. Brevity, it turns out, really is the soul of wit). Entities like the National Weather Service really figured out how to use the channel to share useful information quickly. Communities around common interests were fun and I even made some new friends and acquaintances as a result of a couple of them. 

The downsides? Pretty much everything else. Stepping away has helped see those even more clearly.

Not Everything Needs to be Breaking News

I still remember the late evening of March 10, 2011, about to head to bed here on the West Coast and something caught my eye as I scrolled Twitter: a major earthquake and tsunami had hit Japan. This was the night I learned a lot of U.S. cable news networks just kinda put things on repeat late at night, as there was no coverage on anything but BBC International (even that took some time to get rolling). Twitter was the place it was easy to hear news first and follow as "traditional" media caught up. 

That was always one of Twitter's coolest abilities; people on the ground someplace reporting something happening instantly, uploading pics, etc. For storms, natural disasters and more, that was cool. 

Because of who I followed, I often heard about new music, concert tours, major sports news and more on Twitter first. Of course, I also heard about most things political (more on this in a bit) first on Twitter.

A funny thing happens when you first hear news: you want to know more. And because of the way Twitter is set up, it's easy to dig via few quick searches and try to learn more, instantly. It feels like you're really getting to the bottom of things (ah, the allure of "doing your own research"). Minutes of searching can turn into even more minutes refreshing or, for big events, just trying to stay on top of all the new info being added, moment by moment. 

In retrospect, this is a waste of time. The former journalist in me should know this from the start, but such is the power of an immersive UI. The truth is, while there is novelty to breaking news on Twitter, aside from the individual human experiences with said news, there is very little depth. 

The Beirut explosion in 2020 is a great example of this. You could find tweet after tweet about the explosion -- and plenty of unfounded speculation about what caused it (some of it political, which... in a sec...) -- but aside from actual Lebanese people putting words and pictures to it, there was very little "news" in the early stage. There has been a massive explosion, a ton of damage and no idea why. That would be the case for quite a while and, by the time causes were being identified, mainstream news was the one to bring it to us (ironically, many of those outlets tweeted it out first).

I've recently realized that the "advantage" of hearing news quickly-to-immediately is really not necessary, especially if you check traditional news sites with any frequency throughout the day. Terrible things will, sadly, probably still be terrible in 15 minutes. What do I really need to know right now? Not too much. Bad weather, maybe. But I'm still getting all the news without Twitter; I'm just not letting it have more of my day than it should.

Let's Get Political

Stating the obvious: the internet is an awful place to have nuanced discussion. We've all seen this in whatever ways we've been online. No one has ever won an argument on the internet. Trolls who get a chuckle out of simply making someone else angry are in every discussion feed as are the people who won't ignore those trolls.

When those conversations are about things like sports, it's like the worst hours of sports talk radio ever invented. When they're about music, it's like going back to high school and shouting back and forth about whose music sucks more. (Aside: as I signed in to type this, I saw someone had very recently posted a comment on a blog from more than a decade ago that apparently deeply offended them as it slammed one of their favorite bands. I recommend everyone Google their favorite band followed by the word "sucks" and understand that, no matter what, someone hates your favorite band and wants to talk about it.) If you like going on vacation some place, someone on the internet is ready to tell you why that's a bad place to go on vacation. The internet is awful and Twitter was (and remains today) a shrine to all the worst internet tendencies.

Which is where politics come in. 

Twitter, perhaps better than any other social media channel, is set up to enable user outrage to fuel "engagement" metrics. Facebook is a close second, though on Facebook, the perceived staying power of posts may give some pause. You might not want to light up your friend's well-intentioned post by replying to whatever idiot commenter. You might not find it a productive use of time to get into an argument with your parents' former work acquaintance.

On Twitter, you have no such qualms. You can reply at will. Not everyone will see it. Even if they do, it will be tough to capture due to the scrolling setup. And when you do, you will lose hours of your life, trying to tell some rando from wherever that they're not just wrong, but very wrong.

And that's not even the worst part of Twitter when it comes to politics.

Politics on Twitter has become a pure outrage machine. For example, when I hear some state or another has enacted some law that would have been considered reactionary during Europe's feudal era, I'm dismayed. But Twitter wants me to share that and tell the world how dismayed I am. And then the trouble begins. I had random folks calling me a ballot harvester on Twitter because I was so bold as to note, in response to hearing unauthorized individuals were asking to inspect people's ballots at King County, WA ballot drop boxes, that no one who does not work for King County Elections has any right to look at your ballot.

But worst of all, Twitter has changed the way we approach those very elections for the worse and does so in ways that make it feel like you're doing something great.

In 2020, Mitch McConnell, someone I would not vote for, was up for re-election against Amy McGrath. McGrath ran, from what I can tell, about as good a campaign as can be run in Kentucky by a Democrat running for US Senate. She did not get even 40% of the vote. Twitter, though, in the lead-up, did not make it sound that way. To scroll Twitter was to hear about a close race and how people from all over the country were sending her campaign donations. It may have felt great to donate for those folks, but they should have checked actual polling and not Twitter before signing that check. 

This isn't to say that advocacy is not a good use of time; it is! But sending a tweet (or even a check) isn't advocacy. It's a drop in the ocean. The truth is, I've got my hands full here. We have plenty we need to tackle here in WA and plenty of local- and state-level candidates who not only need my support, but will actually be the ones who have to count me among their constituents. What I mean is, I can use my voice to support aligned folks wherever, but even those folks probably don't want someone from 1,000 miles away telling them how to run their state. I certainly don't want folks telling Washington state what to do. And, plainly, since leaving Twitter be, I find I have a lot more energy to think and act locally. What's happening in a place like Florida may upset me, but I literally live closer to parts of Hawaii than I do to Florida. I cannot spend energy being outraged about something that far away. It's better to shake my head, do what I can to make sure the things I can control (my city, my state, my federal reps) stay good and have bandwidth to support friends in places who may need to vent or more.

A Better Use of Time and Energy (and Money)

I think what finally put me over the edge was the shift to paid verification on Twitter. The dude in charge managed to alienate a pretty significant portion of advertisers with his antics, running his business so well that ads are forecast to be down 28% this year, more than $1 billion. (IMAGINE making business decisions that cost your company a billion in revenue and having people out there still think you're brilliant.)

So now, he wants folks to pony up $8/month. Unfortunately, we're seeing other platforms start to offer a paid service, too. And I'm just going to say it: your $8/month is poorly spent if you're giving it to Twitter.

Here is an incomplete list of things you could send the same $8/month to that would be better:

• Your local NPR affiliate
• Your local newspaper
• A local charity
• A national advocacy group
• A professional organization that helped you

A lot of those might even be tax deductible (well... if you donate enough, anyway. I'll let you know when I hit that level...) But all of those types of organizations will do the work Twitter won't. All of those will do the work you feel like you're doing on Twitter, but aren't.

There is so much need and, if more people gave $96/year (or by Twitter's "deal," $84) to a lot of places, we might actually put a dent into some of the issues we face. 

At the very least, news coverage where you live might improve and you might not feel like you need a site like Twitter to stay ahead of things. You'd be giving money to the people who know how to fight the political fights with actions and not 280-character roast posts.

But ultimately, you wouldn't be giving money to something that is, ultimately, disposable. You may use Facebook just for the memories section. Insta is, at it's worst, just a scrapbook of your life. What is Twitter? A warehouse for thoughts you had in a moment and often forget? A place that made you more angry or anxious than happy?

That's been my experience, as has learning I can get my news and weather and concert announcements elsewhere with just a tap or two. And while my account will remain at least until the man-child in charge decides to kick off every non-paying user, my time and energy don't need to stay there.