Racism,
misogyny, lies: how did X become so full of hatred? And is it ethical to keep
using it?
Ever since
Elon Musk took over Twitter, I and many others have been looking for
alternatives. Who wants to share a platform with the likes of Andrew Tate and
Tommy Robinson?
Zoe Williams
Thu 5 Sep
2024 00.00 EDT
I considered leaving Twitter as soon as
Elon Musk acquired it in 2022, just not wanting to be part of a community that
could be bought, least of all by a man like him – the obnoxious “long hours at
a high intensity” bullying of his staff began immediately. But I’ve had some of
the most interesting conversations of my life on there, both randomly, ambling
about, and solicited, for stories: “Anyone got catastrophically lonely during
Covid?”; “Anyone hooked up with their secondary school boy/girlfriend?” We used
to call it the place where you told the truth to strangers (Facebook was where
you lied to your friends), and that wide-openness was reciprocal and gorgeous.
It got more
unpleasant after the blue-tick fiasco: identity verification became something
you could buy, which destroyed the trust quotient. So I joined the rival
platform Mastodon, but fast realised that I would never get 70,000 followers on
there like I had on Twitter. It wasn’t that I wanted the attention per se, just
that my gang wasn’t varied or noisy enough. There’s something eerie and a bit
depressing about a social media feed that doesn’t refresh often enough, like
walking into a shopping mall where half the shops have closed down and the rest
are all selling the same thing.
In 2023, the
network now known as X began sharing ad revenues with its “premium” users, and
I joined Threads (which is owned by Meta), but all I ever see on it is
strangers confessing to boring misdemeanours. I remained on X, where everything
got darker. People get paid, indirectly through advertising, for engagement.
Even that is a bit murky, since it’s described as “revenue sharing”, but you
don’t get to see which ads’ revenues were shared with you, so can’t measure
revenue-per-impression. Is X sharing it 50/50? Or 10/90? Are they actually
paying you to generate hatred?
“What we’ve
seen,” says Ed Saperia, dean of the London College of Political Technology, “is
controversial content drives engagement. Extreme content drives engagement.”
Creating toxic content became a viable livelihood, which my 16-year-old, on
football X, noticed way before I did: people saying patently wrong things for
hate-clicks. You might get a couple of thousand likes for noticing that David
Cameron looks like Catherine the Great, but that’s nothing like the engagement
you’ll get for attacking trans people, say. Those high-attention tweets go
straight to the top of the For You feed, driven by a “black box algorithm
designed to keep you scrolling”, as Rose Wang, COO of another rival, Bluesky,
puts it, but the user experience is screeds of repetition on topics tailored to
annoy you.
As a result
of these changes, says Joe Mulhall, head of research at Hope Not Hate, “the
platform has been flooded by individuals who were previously de-platformed,
ranging from extreme niche accounts to figures like Tommy Robinson and Andrew
Tate”. We saw the real-life effects of this when misinformation over the
identity, ethnicity and faith of the killer of three young girls in Southport
incited explicitly racist unrest across the UK this August, such as hasn’t been
seen since the 70s. X, Mulhall says, “was a central hub not only for creating
the climate for the riots, but also the organisation and distribution of
content that led to riots”.
After the
race riots in August it transpired that one man, “keyboard warrior” Wayne
O’Rourke, convicted for inciting racial hatred on social media, was earning
£1,400 a month from his activities on X. The blowhard Laurence Fox declared
last month that he earns a similar amount from posting on X. O’Rourke had
90,000 followers; Tommy Robinson has more than a million, and it’s likely that
he’s making far more.
Governments,
meanwhile, have no reliable redress, even when, as Mulhall puts it, “decisions
made on the west coast of America are demonstrably affecting our communities”.
In April, Brazil’s supreme court sought suspensions of fewer than 100 X
accounts, for hate speech and fake news – mainly supporters of his predecessor,
Jair Bolsonaro, disputing the legitimacy of his defeat. X refused, and declined
to represent itself in court. On Monday, the court unanimously upheld a ban on
the entire platform, arguing that it “considered itself above the rule of law”.
It’s extraordinary that Musk didn’t do more to avoid that, from a business
perspective, but it may be that there are things he values more than money,
such as immunity from governmental or democratic constraint.
So is it
moral to remain on a platform that does so much to bring the politics of
division and hatred off the keyboard and into real life? Is X any worse than
Facebook, or TikTok, or (for God’s sake!) YouTube? And is it worse on purpose,
which is to say, are we watching the unfolding of a Musk masterplan?
“It’s not
the first time we’ve had extremist content online,” says Saperia. “There are
lots of bad platforms, lots of bad things happen on them.” X’s problem may not
be that its regulations are bad, but that its enforcement is bad, he points
out, and it is not alone in that. “Have you looked at the UK court system
lately? There are cases being heard from five years ago. If you don’t have
laws, you don’t have a society.”
X might be
both spur and muster point for civil unrest, from the January 6 US Capitol
attack to Southport and beyond, but we should also keep in mind, Saperia says,
that “politics is moving to the right, not just because of the media
environment, but for complex economic reasons: the middle-class west is getting
poorer”. Donald Trump may have shocked the US legacy media by speaking directly
to voters with coarse, increasingly unhinged messaging, but if we think a
contented population, secure in a prosperous future, would have embraced his
authoritarian lurch, we’re dreaming. Rage is out there, whether social media
bankrolls it or not, and “all the mainstream platforms were generally failing
on hate speech”, Mulhall says. “They didn’t want this content but they were
struggling to deal with it. Then they would step up a bit after a
Charlottesville [the white supremacist rally in 2017] or Capitol Hill.”
Nevertheless,
Hope Not Hate separates far-right online activism into three strains:
mainstream platforms – X, Instagram, Facebook – which aren’t into fascism but
struggle to snuff it out, and arguably don’t invest enough in moderation and
regulation; co-opted platforms, such as Discord and Telegram, which start off
as chat sites or messaging services, and maybe due to their superior privacy or
encryption, become the favourite chat apps of the far right; and bespoke
platforms, such as Rumble (part-funded by the fundamentalist libertarian and
billionaire Peter Thiel), Gab (which became a nidus of primarily antisemitic
hatred after the perpetrator of the 2018 Pittsburgh synagogue shooting posted
his manifesto there) or Parler, which Kanye West almost bought in 2022, after
he had been banned from Instagram and Twitter for antisemitism.
“Twitter has
broken the mould,” Mulhall says. “It’s ostensibly a mainstream platform which
now has bespoke moderation policies. Elon Musk is himself inculcated with
radical right politics. So it’s behaving much more like a bespoke platform,
created by the far right. This marks it out significantly from any other
platform. And it’s extremely toxic, an order of magnitude worse, not least
because, while it still has terms of service, they’re not necessarily
implementing them.”
Musk’s
commitment to free speech is jaw-droppingly unconvincing: he used it to reject
Brazil’s demands, yet readily acceded to Narendra Modi’s demands in India, and
suspended hundreds of accounts linked to farmers’ protests there in February
this year. “Things like free speech are instruments to Musk, rather than
principles,” Mulhall says. “He’s a tech utopian with no attachment to
democracy.”
Global civil
society, though, finds it incredibly difficult to reject the free speech
argument out of hand, because the alternative is so dark: that a number of
billionaires – not just Musk but also Thiel with Rumble, Parler’s original
backer, Rebekah Mercer (daughter of Robert Mercer, funder of Breitbart), and,
indirectly, billionaire sovereign actors such as Putin – are successfully
changing society, destroying the trust we have in each other and in
institutions. It’s much more comfortable to think they’re doing that by
accident, because they just love “free speech”, than that they’re doing that on
purpose. “Part of understanding the neo-reactionary and ‘dark enlightenment’
movements, is that these individuals don’t have any interest in the
continuation of the status quo,” Mulhall says.
“In some
jurisdictions,” Saperia says, “what sovereigns do and what billionaires do are
quite related.” You can see that in Russia where, Mulhall says, “Putin is happy
to use the state to manipulate social media to create polarisation – that’s
been pretty much proven”. But where tech and politics aren’t aligned, politics
doesn’t tend to come out on top. Governments look pretty powerless in the face
of these massive tech companies. “Race hatred and attempted murder is incubated
on these platforms,” Mulhall says, “and people don’t even think it’s possible
to get Musk in front of parliament.”
In Paris,
the founder of Telegram, Pavel Durov, is being formally investigated for his
app’s alleged role in organised crime, and Musk has been named in a
cyberbullying lawsuit brought by the gold medallist Imane Khelif. The boxer,
who was born female and has never identified as either trans or intersex, was
subjected to libellous claims about her gender by numerous public figures –
British politicians, JK Rowling, Donald Trump – all on X. Andrew Tate,
meanwhile, may have been charged by the Romanian authorities with human
trafficking and rape, but his online misogynist fantasies of women as a slave
caste, which have immense global reach, have attracted no censure greater than
de-platforming, by YouTube, Insta, TikTok and Facebook – while the impact of
these bans was lessened, even undone, by his freedom to operate on X. The EU
has been more successful than the US in at least conceiving of social media
giants as having the same corporate responsibility as, say, a pharmaceutical or
oil company, but regulation still races to catch up with the changing reality,
in which divisions are migrating faster than ever from the virtual to the real
world.
But we don’t
need a government to step in and tell us to stop using X; we could do that on
our own. Brazilians, Twitterless, have been migrating to Bluesky, which was set
up in 2019 by Twitter co-founder Jack Dorsey. Bluesky’s Wang described on
Monday “a wild ride even in the last four days. As of this morning, we’ve had
nearer 2 million new users.” If we all did that (I’ve done that!), would it
obliterate X’s power? Or would there just be a bifurcation, a Good Place and a
Bad Place?
Bluesky
serves a similar purpose to X but is designed completely differently, as Wang
describes: “No single entity has control over the platform, all the code is
open-sourced, anyone can copy and paste our entire code. We can’t own your
data, you can take it wherever you want. We have to win your usership through
our performance or else you will leave. That’s much more like how search
engines work. If you enshittify the search engine by placing ads everywhere,
people will go to a different search engine.”
The main
hurdle has been that people migrate in packs and until recently weren’t
migrating fast enough. If they do, and Saperia is right, Bluesky and Threads
(which now has 175 million active monthly users), will ultimately supplant X.
Will it be the same? It can’t be – the free-for-all of the open web, from which
Twitter created its famous “town square” discursive experience (anyone could
chat, and look, the Coastguard Agency and CNN were also right there) has been
replaced by a social media idea Saperia calls the “dark forest” and Wang
describes as “you find your people in small spaces, and work together to build
an experience that you want – basic human building blocks of interaction”.
Did Musk
take a thing we all loved and smash it? Pretty much. But “a small group of
people governing spaces for billions of people just doesn’t work”, Wang says.
So, one way or another, someone was bound to.
This article was amended on 5 September 2024.
An earlier version said Kanye West bought the social network Parler in 2022. In
fact, the sale mooted in October of that year was cancelled the month after.
Also, in April it was Brazil’s supreme court, not Brazil’s president as an
earlier version said, that sought suspensions of fewer than 100 X accounts for
hate speech and fake news.
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