When Social Media Giants Fall: The Inevitable Collapse of X
The recent departure of Stephen King from X (formerly Twitter) feels like watching the final scenes of a horror movie we all knew was coming. The master of horror himself has deemed the platform too toxic to remain, and honestly, who can blame him?
From my quiet corner of Carlton, where I often enjoy a peaceful coffee while scrolling through my various feeds, I’ve watched the platform’s steady descent into chaos since Elon Musk’s takeover. The transformation has been fascinating and disturbing in equal measure, like watching a slow-motion train wreck through the lens of a particularly dark Black Mirror episode.
The platform’s decline mirrors what many of us have seen before with other social media giants. It starts with small changes that seem innocuous enough - a new algorithm here, a modified feature there. Then suddenly, you’re wading through a cesspool of hate speech and misinformation just to find that one good tweet about your favourite podcast.
Remember MySpace? It didn’t die overnight. It faded gradually, then suddenly. The same pattern is playing out with X, but this time it’s different. This isn’t just about users moving to the next shiny platform - it’s about the deliberate transformation of a global town square into what feels like a private clubhouse for billionaires and their sycophants.
The thing that really gets under my skin is watching major institutions - news organisations, government departments, and corporations - continue to legitimise the platform through their presence. It’s like watching someone repeatedly touch a hot stove while insisting they’re fine.
Yesterday, while discussing this with my partner over dinner, she pointed out how the whole situation reminds her of those property developers who buy historic buildings, let them deteriorate until they’re uninhabitable, then demolish them for something new. The parallel is striking - we’re watching the systematic dismantling of what was once a vital platform for global communication.
Looking ahead, the emergence of alternatives like BlueSky offers some hope. But we need to be smarter this time around. We need to question whether we want our public discourse controlled by billionaires who treat social media platforms like personal playgrounds.
The silver lining? Perhaps this whole debacle will finally push us toward more decentralised, community-controlled social media platforms. Until then, I’ll be spending more time in the real world, perhaps at my local library where the only algorithm is the Dewey Decimal System, and the only verification mark that matters is the date stamp on my library card.
At least we can still enjoy the irony of watching the world’s richest man desperately seeking validation from a horror writer who wants nothing to do with him. Stephen King might have left the platform, but he’s given us one final masterclass in horror - sometimes the scariest stories are the ones playing out in real time.