The Twitter Trap:

I deleted Twitter. Not as a gimmick, but as a necessity.

Fasting

I’m fasting and traveling, which makes March the perfect month to reset. Every year, this is when we rebase our Trans-Atlantic geography—shift locations, rethink habits, and take stock. The Bahá’í Fast has turned Naw-Rúz (Persian-Bahá’í New Year) into a household signifier—a time for reflection and goal-setting. September is the other critical point in the year, marking the start of the academic calendar, when the intellectual reset happens.

But even though I’m technically exempt from fasting while traveling, skipping it feels like cheating the day. There’s something about the discipline of fasting that forces a mental reset—one that I’ve realized Twitter was actively working against.

Politics, and the Return of Old Ideas

The Trump election caught me by surprise. Not in its inevitability, but in how much it reawakened political instincts I had in my youth—beliefs I had let atrophy in my petty bourgeois years of professional and marital stability. Ideas I thought I had outgrown came roaring back.

There’s something about this election cycle that feels like the politics of passionate young men mellowing in their 40s. J.D. Vance is four months older than me, and his transformation from progressive skeptic to ideological warriorreflects something deeper happening on the Right.

But back to my main topic—why I’ve left Twitter.

The Algorithm Doesn’t Reward Intelligence—It Rewards Outrage

I’m sure anyone reading this could have told me that. But I stayed because I needed to scan for signal—to see what was actually happening in the world.

The problem is, the internet punishes intelligence. Not directly—but by rewarding the thing that undermines it: escalation.

Subtlety is invisible. Nuance doesn’t move. If you want to get noticed, you have to scream louder than the last guy.

Twitter is a contrarian space, at least my feed is. I used to think that was a good thing—a place for independent thinkers, dissidents, and sharp minds. But I’ve realized something ugly:

To get noticed on social media, you don’t have to be the smartest or the most brilliant—you have to be the most outrageous.

The structure of the algorithm doesn’t elevate insight—it incentivizes escalation. You win not by being correct, but by being provocative.

I found myself scrolling, looking for signal in the noise—especially with the US-Canada diplomatic fiasco and the fact that history is moving at an accelerated pace. The world is shifting under our feet:

• Geopolitical tensions are escalating

• Technological strides are reshaping society faster than we can process

• The Overton Window is moving at breakneck speed

But Twitter doesn’t help you make sense of this—it just fuels the hype.

Recalibrating the Mind—And Who Owns Your Time

Over the last decade, I’ve transitioned from passive wealth to practical work. In that shift, I’ve become exceptionally pragmatic—more grounded, more disciplined.

I also like to believe my sense of spirituality has deepened—or at least, I strive for that.

Yet I noticed something troubling: Twitter was pulling me out of that spiritual alignment because there was always another “crisis.”

The Bahá’í fasting month is meant to be peak spirituality, but I’ve always found February to be my most celestially connected time of the year. Maybe it’s personal, maybe it’s just how my rhythms align, but I could feel that Twitter was a distraction—not an enhancement.

I don’t regret doing the March month of discovery (the month of Loftiness, 'Alá'), but I prefer deep work—not quick takes on issues.

For my sins, I’ve never wanted to be outrageous or ruthless, but those seem to be the only paths to rapid advancement. I’m not claiming to be a moral authority in any sense, but I do value my soul—or what I perceive it to be.

I’ve worked as a distressed trader before, so my mind is always scanning for systemic risk. And right now, the biggest systemic risk in politics isn’t just polarization—it’s the silent middle.

The 70% Strategy and the Silent Middle

There’s this silent 40% in the US electorate—not as polarized as the vocal fringes (30% each side), but with strong underlying views that rarely get attention.

Shockingly, I just checked:

• 69% of Americans now believe transgender athletes should compete based on their birth gender—up from 62% in 2021.

• Only 26% believe they should compete based on gender identity, down from 34%.

This is a rare moment where the Right (30%) and the silent middle (40%) have converged.

Trump doesn’t need to convert anyone—he just needs to find his 70% issue that can bring populist energy + silent middle pragmatism into the same camp.

The Left has already lost control of this debate—not through policy failure, but because their cultural dominance blinded them to the shifting landscape.

And that’s the real game:

What other 70% issues will emerge in the next few months? This is how the Tories stayed in power for centuries—they didn’t win elections; they structured the battlefield so the opposition always lost. Trump is playing the same game.

Owning Your Technology, Not Letting It Own You

Long story short—I’m off Twitter for a while.

I’m still a premium member, because I like to keep a pulse on social media without being consumed by it. But this isn’t the first time I’ve deleted it to recalibrate my online presence, and it won’t be the last. I would rather own my phone and technology than have it own me. For now, I’ll be thinking through how social media warps our perception, how elections are being shaped in real-time, and what recalibrating actually means in an age of hyper-information.

Final Thoughts: Who Else Has Stepped Back?

Who else has stepped back from Twitter (or other platforms) and noticed a shift in their mental clarity?

• Do you feel less reactive?

• Have you noticed a difference in your focus?

• Is leaving social media a power move—or just a coping mechanism?

Would love to hear thoughts from others who have been playing with the same idea.