The Bluesky Bubble
3 min read
Bluesky, a Twitter-style, short-post social-media site, has exploded in popularity since last week, adding 1 million users in just that time. A lot of people hate X—especially if they hate Elon Musk, or Donald Trump, or Nazis, or algorithmic feeds, or shadowbanning, or impersonation, or engagement farming, or porn hustling. Can Bluesky be the fix for all those woes, and a lasting replacement for the site that once was Twitter? I really doubt it.
Woe that people, myself included, have been inspired even to ask the question. Although white supremacy, scams, and porn are real and worsening problems on X and other social media, I have written before in The Atlantic about a problem that I see as superordinate to all of these others: People just aren’t meant to talk with one another this much. The decline of X is a sign that we may soon be free of social media, and the compulsive, constant attention-seeking that it normalized. Counterintuitively, the rise of Bluesky is also a good sign, in that so many people are still trying to hold on to the past. Giving up on social media will take time, and it will inspire relapse.
For all its growth, Bluesky still trails far behind Meta’s Threads—Mark Zuckerberg recently told investors that his Twitter-like app adds 1 million users each day. But numbers alone don’t tell the full story. Meta has added buttons to access Threads from Instagram, so that any of its 2 billion users can slide right over, even if they never end up posting there. Bluesky, meanwhile, seems to be drawing actual users, especially in the United States, who want to post and follow.
A network of any kind—social, communication, epidemiological—is only as effective as the scope of its connections. Two decades ago, when social networks were new, it was easier to develop a rich, broad network because nobody had one yet. MySpace, Facebook, and LinkedIn helped people build databases of the connections they already had—friends, family, schoolmates, work colleagues. Twitter was among the first social networks that encouraged people to connect with anybody whosoever—to build a following of strangers. That, as much as its distinctive, short-text format, made Twitter what it was. Among other things, it became a distinctive venue to follow live global events, and to share and engage with journalism. It also was a place for brands to interact with their customers, and for businesses to provide customer service.
Bluesky has not yet found its distinctive identity or purpose. But to me, one user among many who started using the service in earnest this week, it feels more like the early days of social networking than anything else in recent memory. The posts I have seen, and made, are dumb and awkward instead of being savvy and too online. For now, Bluesky invokes the feeling of carefree earnestness that once—really and truly—blanketed the internet as a whole. Gen Xers and Oldlennials who had already finished college when Facebook started will remember the strange and delightful experience of rediscovering lost friends on that service—people you hadn’t seen or heard from in years. Now that strange delight itself can be rediscovered: I’ve felt something like it as I watched my Bluesky migration plug-in locate and auto-follow thousands of users whom I hadn’t seen on X or Twitter for years.
But the internet’s media ecosystem is more fragmentary this decade than it was during the last. Uncertainty about social media’s future produces existential questions about the major platforms: Will TikTok be banned? Will X become state media? Will the Bluesky bubble grow beyond this week? Whatever happens, I still hope that social media itself will fade away. In the meantime, though, hundreds of millions of people have become accustomed to this way of interacting with friends and strangers, noshing on news, performing identities, picking fights, and accruing cultural capital or longing to do so. These unhealthy habits will be hard to shake. And so we can’t help but try to keep them going, for however long we can.
