Organizing After Twitter

Bill McKibben / Bill McKibben's Substack
Organizing After Twitter Twitter's sudden lurch into ugliness is a good reminder not to rely entirely on digital tools. There's nothing self-driving about good organizing. (photo: Jakub Porzycki/Getty)

Musk's fetid new swamp may push us all onto higher ground

Given that every aspect of the climate crisis demands communication, Elon Musk's purchase of Twitter is a real problem. There's an undeniable chimp-with-a-chainsaw horrified fascination in watching him try to handle it (and, one hopes, an enduring and salutary proof of the fact that billionaires are not geniuses), but so far he has managed to turn an imperfect communications system into a dismal swamp.

I should say at the outset that I'm not leaving, yet.

Jelani Cobb offered the best account yet of why we should

To the extent that people remain active on Twitter, they preserve the fragile viability of Musk’s gambit. The illusory sense of community that still lingers on the platform is one of Musk’s most significant assets. No matter which side prevails, the true victor in any war is the person selling weapons to both sides.

But in my case it feels a little complicated by the fact that I've used the medium not just to communicate, but actively to organize. It's been a truly helpful tool in nationalizing key fights, from Keystone to the divestment battles: yes, we're all speaking to our particular choirs, but trying to help the choir sing from the same page in the hymnal is highly useful. Also, there's a part of me that bridles at being bullied off the playground. I've signed up for admission to some of the alternative playgrounds (Post.News) and watched with admiration as people pioneer new ground (the Mushroom project) but I have a bad feeling that my understanding of Mastodon may always be like my understanding of the blockchain: I nod while someone explains it, and then… Well, Twitter’s simplicity was its charm.

That said, there's no question that Musk's version of the site is on the verge of becoming entirely useless. There were always ugly currents there, but they are turning into daily tides—his notion of free speech is that anyone should say pretty much anything at all times, and so they are. When I post something now, many of the replies are weird anti-Semitic rants. (Last week someone insisted to me that "Jews invented pornography," which seems, on the archaeological evidence, the single least likely thing on earth). When one objects, as I did, scores of newly unleashed commenters pile in to insist that one should engage with the anti-Semites and explain the error of their ways. "You have lived in a protected hive mind bubble that shelters you from real people," someone called "Lizard King" explained to me today--and it's true. We've all lived in and benefited from a "hive mind bubble" that decided, post-Holocaust, that anti-Semitic declarations were to be shunned. The widespread acknowledgement that anti-Semitism was a disgusting source of unending horror was one of the few clear victories of the 20th century (of course, vaccines were another...). We shouldn't have to refight this particular battle every day for the rest of our lives, especially since the advocates of fascism are not likely to yield to facts. If Elon Musk, in his tantrum against "content moderation," wants to overturn these few slender civilizational achievements, then eventually most decent people will drift away from his orbit, and it will become a place populated mostly by unhappy weirdos. One has so much time and energy; arguing with people who want to tell you about "the Jews" (or "the Muslims" or "the Blacks" or whatever) is not, ultimately, a good use of that time and energy. You can block people all you want, but every day there's a new cadre; they're morons, but committed ones.

Which, as I've said, will cause a problem for organizers. We've come to rely on Twitter for certain things: it's an efficient way to spread important new information and to highlight important new voices; most of my Tweets for the last decade have been, in one form or another, saying "thanks" to someone for doing something useful, in the hope that others will notice. (And because I have a big list of followers they usually do). Things like this Substack rely, to some extent, on Twitter too--it's been the biggest source of new readers.

But I think this utility has come at a cost (and not just the personal one of spending way too much time scrolling). We've almost certainly relied too much on Twitter and the rest of its digital ilk. Posting, as many have pointed out, has become a substitute for other kinds of action. But more, it's given us less incentive to build out real and substantial networks. I've been reminded of this in the past year, as Third Act has sprung into life. We've patiently built up networks of flesh and blood people in physical places (Third Act Ohio debuts tomorrow!) and also in virtual space (Third Act Educators, say, are scattered across the country). They've gotten to know each other, face to face or face to Zoom. And that's turned out to be...effective.

Here's CNN describing our efforts in the critical Nevada election, for instance:

the week before the election, Third Act, a new national group targeting people over 60 to work on climate justice and protecting democracy, sent its celebrity founder, climate activist Bill McKibben to Nevada to meet with hundreds of older Nevadans. He was joined by renowned author Rebecca Solnit and Secretary of State candidate Cisco Aguilar at a “Defend Our Democracy” event in Reno.

That event inspired scores to show up the next day to walk door-to-door for pro-democracy candidates, shining a bright spotlight on Aguilar who subsequently won a close race against a staunch election-denier, Jim Marchant.

Forget the part about "celebrity founder," the key was that hundreds of people got together to do something. Organizing it was much harder than tweeting (huge shoutout to Third Act Nevada and the redoubtable Bob Fulkerson) but it will also pay much larger dividends going forward: there are new bonds, new friendships, and a new sense of our strength.

We'll always use digital tools to help in that work--this is the world we live in. But Twitter's sudden lurch into ugliness is a good reminder not to rely entirely on them. There's nothing self-driving about good organizing!

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