It’s not you, it’s me: why it’s so hard to replicate X in Bluesky Social

Donald Trump’s victory in the recent US presidential election was accompanied by an exodus of users from X to Bluesky Social, which some have called ‘The Great Migration’. The social network formerly known as Twitter proved its usefulness as a lever of influence on public opinion by helping to underpin the American tycoon’s triumph.

It seems no coincidence that Elon Musk, owner of X, was a key player in Trump’s campaign, contributing not only money but also tweaks to the algorithm to make Republican content more visible than Democratic content.

For many, this, combined with the general state of tension and polarisation on X, was enough to encourage them to migrate to the alternative created by Jack Dorsey, which has been open to everyone since the beginning of this year. Bluesky Social thus saw a significant increase in its user base, as people searched for what Twitter once was and can no longer find.

And yet, something tells me they still won’t find it.

Bluesky: it’s not you. It’s me and it’s a lot of us.

A nostalgic look at Twitter

In my case, I joined Twitter back in April 2009. I was late compared to the pioneers who opened their profiles in 2007, even though they didn’t use them much.

But I joined the platform at a time when its codes of conduct had not yet been written and most of the people who joined shared similar traits. We were professionals trying to connect with other colleagues and open up sincere and generous lines of communication.

We wanted to discuss, disseminate, solve. It was wonderful while the critical mass of people on Twitter kept it in a closed circle where those of us who work in communication, marketing and journalism could do as we pleased.

Various movements aimed at strengthening micro and macro communities were generated on Twitter. We even organised physical meetings to get to know each other face to face. They were very useful.

I am still in touch with many people from those years, and a few professional opportunities arose in that context. Even LinkedIn did not have the power that Twitter came to have as a tool for knowledge and networking.

For some, Twitter was also the perfect complement to something as key as revitalising our blogs. It was a catalyst, an alarm signalling the arrival of fresh content.

Furthermore, by competing with fewer publications than are distributed today, the chances of reaching further increased.

The polarization stage

However, the time came for the algorithm to change, and the founders of Twitter, before the Musk era, decided that the social network could suggest better content than what you chose to consume.

At the same time, user numbers skyrocketed and viral posts began to dominate, focusing first on entertainment and then on politics. Everything was in place for those of us who sought to learn and share knowledge to be overtaken and overshadowed by those who craved attention and popularity.

Polarisation was a matter of days.

In recent years, the algorithm has rewarded those who generated division and called on people to take sides in a virtual battle. Whichever side they chose.

Phenomena such as cancel culture, cherry picking, fake news, misinformation and even ‘shitification’ have come flooding in via tweets, with catastrophic consequences for those of us who were once active users, generating posts and engaging in conversations.

Consequences for Bluesky

Many, like me, have become mere spectators. We read, we get angry, we applaud, and occasionally we give a post a “like” as a sign of support.

However, we avoid taking sides. We sidestep controversies and debates by remaining silent and letting others expose themselves, but also letting them take centre stage.

The codes we once gave to the old Twitter no longer work on the new one. We have changed as users: we read, but we do not create. We are not up for certain things.

The migration to Bluesky, as before to Mastodon or later to Threads, sought to return to the origins. It is impossible. That era is over.

We have evolved and expect different things from social media. Creating a new community on a new social network requires considerable effort and raises fears that the trolls from X will land in our backyard, as is already happening.

We trust that the control mechanisms will work, but will they? There are opportunities, but they are not the same.

I can’t find the same experience I had on Twitter on Bluesky Social because I’m not the same person I was 15 years ago. We’ve all evolved. We’re wiser, smarter… more cowardly.

Perhaps, just perhaps, we need to retreat to more intimate territories and start again from the ground up, rather than from the top down.

Perhaps it is time to strengthen newsletters or resume blogging, to bring together, in a more exclusive exchange—rather than a dialogue—those with whom we truly wish to connect as professionals, without algorithms filtering what we are recommended to read or not.

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