Simba
Elon Musk didn’t buy Twitter (now X) to save free speech. He bought it to ensure his speech is the only speech that matters. The algorithm isn’t broken—it’s working exactly as intended, amplifying Musk-approved narratives while sending criticism into a digital black hole. You can technically post whatever you want on X, but the algorithm decides if anyone will ever see it. It’s freedom of speech with an asterisk the size of a Cybertruck recall notice.
The Investigation: Following the Algorithmic Breadcrumbs
When Musk was riding high with his D.O.G.E. (Department of Government Efficiency) involvement, X was flooded with posts celebrating the initiative’s “wonderful” achievements. These posts routinely hit millions of views, dominating feeds with the algorithmic enthusiasm of a promoted tweet on steroids. Users couldn’t scroll three posts without encountering another breathless update about how D.O.G.E. was revolutionizing government efficiency.
Then came the fallout between Musk and Trump. Suddenly, D.O.G.E. posts vanished from feeds as if the entire initiative had been memory-holed. The algorithm, it seems, takes its cues from Musk’s current interests. When he’s involved, the content floods your feed. When he’s not, it might as well not exist.
The Cybertruck recall offers an even more instructive case study. Tesla issued a massive recall affecting thousands of vehicles—a story that should have dominated tech and auto discussions on the platform. Instead, Cybertruck-related posts experienced mysterious visibility issues. Critical posts about the recall didn’t trend. They didn’t go viral. They simply disappeared into the algorithmic void, achieving the kind of engagement numbers typically reserved for your aunt’s vacation photos.
Meanwhile, Musk’s own tweets receive algorithmic preferential treatment that makes legacy media gatekeepers look egalitarian. His posts are force-fed into timelines with the persistence of a telemarketer. The platform he purchased for $44 billion has become the world’s most expensive personal blog, with everyone else relegated to writing comments in the margins.
The Absurdity: The Free Speech Paradox
The genius of Musk’s approach is its technical compliance with “free speech” principles. X doesn’t censor content in the traditional sense—there’s no deletion, no banning, no overtly Orwellian content moderation. You absolutely can post about Cybertruck recalls. You can criticize D.O.G.E. You can question Musk’s business decisions. The platform will dutifully accept your submission, process it through its servers, and file it away where no human eye will ever find it.
As one engineer at a competing social platform observed: “It’s brilliant, really. He’s created the illusion of an open platform while maintaining total narrative control. It’s censorship with plausible deniability built into the architecture.”
The strategy works because most users conflate “ability to speak” with “ability to be heard.” Musk exploits this confusion. On X, you have freedom of speech—you can shout anything you want into the void. But the algorithm controls freedom of reach, and reach is the only currency that matters on social media. Without reach, your speech might as well not exist.
Consider the practical reality: You could write the most thoroughly researched, meticulously sourced exposé about Tesla’s quality control issues. You could cite internal documents, interview former employees, and present incontrovertible evidence. Post it to X, and the algorithm will ensure it reaches approximately seventeen people, twelve of whom are bots. But let Musk tweet “Cybertruck is awesome” and it’ll hit ten million impressions before lunch.
This is the digital equivalent of being allowed to speak at a concert, but only when the band is playing at maximum volume or when the mic has been cut-off. Technically, you exercised your right to free speech. Practically, you might as well have been screaming into a jet engine.
The Judgment: The World’s Most Expensive Echo Chamber
Musk positioned himself as a free speech absolutist, the hero who would save Twitter from censorious overlords. The reality is more accurately described as replacing one form of control with another—and this version has no pretense of serving anything beyond one man’s ego and business interests.
The algorithm isn’t neutral. It’s a propaganda machine engineered to manufacture consensus around Musk-approved narratives. When D.O.G.E. served his interests, it dominated feeds. When it didn’t, it vanished. When Cybertruck needed defending, critical posts disappeared. This isn’t a bug; it’s the core feature.
The most damning aspect is the hypocrisy. Musk positioned X as the antidote to “censorship,” then implemented an algorithmic censorship system more sophisticated than anything Twitter’s previous management dreamed of. At least the old regime was transparent about their moderation decisions. Musk’s approach is insidious precisely because it’s invisible. Users don’t know they’re being algorithmically suppressed. They just wonder why nobody’s engaging with their posts anymore.
The platform has become a vanity project masquerading as a public square—a $44 billion monument to one man’s inability to tolerate criticism. You can post whatever you want, but the algorithm ensures Musk’s reality is the only reality that matters.
What’s your experience with algorithmic suppression on X? Have you noticed your critical posts mysteriously underperforming? Does the platform feel less like a “free speech” zone and more like an echo chamber optimized for one man’s ego?
GIPHY App Key not set. Please check settings