Maybe it's time for us to embrace social media's fragmentation
From a constant scroll to a conscious choice, the rapid fall of Twitter may not be such a bad thing for social "power users" (addicts?) in the end.
For as long as it has existed, social media has always been a part of my digital DNA. As a tech enthusiast and journalist, I've been an early adopter of every platform, from MySpace and FriendFeed to Vine and Snapchat (and that's not to mention mIRC, ICQ and others). But lately, something has changed. I find myself checking my social feeds far less frequently, and somehow, I feel... better?
This piqued my curiosity. What made me okay to drop what was essentially a multi-decade addiction? I dug into finding the catalyst for why I was okay with loosening my grip on social media and, to little surprise, the downfall of Twitter might hold the key. Abandoning the platform has led to a healthier internet experience for myself and many others.
Remembering the glory days
For over a decade, Twitter was my digital home. I was among the first 500,000 users to sign up for the site back in 2006 and in the years that followed I thrived on the witty banter, the vibrant communities, and the real-time news updates. It was a constant stream of information and connection, especially for those of us in journalism. It was brilliant, and I struggled to picture it not still bringing value to culture and society — it always was a way to pulse-check the zeitgeist.
I was wrong. Things deteriorated faster than anyone predicted following Elon Musk's purchase. The platform began pushing away its core audience while becoming a hub for misinformation, increasingly toxic discourse, and leadership decisions that couldn't be justified. This, combined with the rising popularity of alternative platforms, prompted a mass exodus, myself included.
So, where did everyone go? My journey into the now fragmented landscape of social media started with Mastodon. I was drawn to its decentralized structure and the promise of a more civil environment. While I found some engaging communities, navigating the different servers and keeping track of conversations proved cumbersome.
I also joined the invite-only Bluesky (now open to the public), a project boasting a user-controlled protocol for personalized social media experiences. It held promise, but the limited user base made it feel like a ghost town. Also, a lot of 18+ content would find its way into your feed due to employees engaging with it while there were still few users. This is less of a problem now that more people are using Bluesky, but it still exists on the platform.
Hive Social had a hot minute moment that we all tried, but then came Threads, Meta's platform, which initially felt familiar yet strangely hollow. It still lacks the organic growth of posts and viral zeitgeist moments, but it has potential and is where I spend most of my time. I've been getting back into Bluesky more as well, as it seems where a lot of former Twitter peeps have ended up.
Maybe less is more?
This scattered experience across various platforms originally felt overwhelming because you were looking for the one alternative everyone would choose. However, it became apparent this was never going to happen. Gone were the days of a single, centralized feed keeping me tethered to the constant scroll.
However, with this fragmentation came an unexpected benefit: space.
Without a dominant platform, I wasn't drawn to check updates as frequently. I could choose when and how to engage with one of the platforms based on its purpose or community, and I was no longer bombarded with the negativity that had plagued Twitter in its later years.
Fragmentation offers several advantages that can lead many users to a healthier relationship with social media, too.
Firstly, it allows for the creation of niche communities. Instead of one large platform trying to cater to everyone, smaller platforms can cater to specific interests and foster more meaningful connections among like-minded individuals. This promotes a sense of intimate connections within the platform that would be tougher to build up in a more general platform like the fallen bird app.
Secondly, fragmentation encourages a more deliberate approach to social media use. Users are no longer passively consuming information without a single, dominant feed. They actively choose which platforms to engage with and for how long based on what they are trying to achieve or who they want to connect with. This empowers individuals to take control of their online experience and prioritize the content that genuinely adds value to their lives.
Thirdly, fragmentation can help combat the toxic discourse since platforms like Bluesky or Mastadon are less mainstream and more transparent in moderation or holding people accountable.
Of course, fragmentation comes with challenges. Navigating multiple platforms can be time-consuming, and the lack of a single, centralized platform can make it harder to stay connected with everyone. Additionally, the rise of smaller platforms can create new challenges related to content moderation and misinformation dissemination.
However, the potential benefits of a fragmented social media landscape outweigh the challenges. It can empower users, foster meaningful connections, and encourage a more deliberate and healthy approach to online interaction (or even inspire a return to in-person connections?).
While my experience might not be universally applicable, it offers a compelling case for embracing fragmentation and taking back control of our online experience.
Perhaps the fall of Twitter, in its own chaotic way, paved the path for a future where social media can serve us again, not the other way around.