Over the past week I’ve finally made the switch from the social media platform X, formerly known as Twitter, to a similar one known as Bluesky. I remember the excitement in the early days of Twitter, when I could ‘follow’ many of the scientists and writers I admire. The diversity of voices gave a refreshing access to views of others and allowed for healthy debate and sharing of perspectives. People would post links to relevant news stories, new research, and super-succinct commentaries. Being able to say something interesting in 140 characters became a skill in itself.
For over a decade, many of us in the ‘twittersphere’ were hooked on the easy access to policy developments in our interest areas. It made it possible to stay informed of developments in the environmental realm, from climate policy and ocean conservation to EU agri policy and local community initiatives. I was able to spread word about projects I was involved with too.
But then the platform began to go downhill. In the two years since it was bought by Elon Musk, engagement with environmental related posts has plummeted. Now my timeline is full of rubbish, with lots of attention-grabbing distractions and silly content from those I haven’t chosen to follow, generated by algorithms with dubious functioning. Content is swamped with misinformation and responses are filled with aggression. Particularly disturbing is the knowledge that third-party companies use people's posts to train AI, which is especially worrying when we consider that much of the content is fake news or vacuous content designed solely to consume our attention. Like many others, I’ve been using X less and less in the past two years, venturing in occasionally with trepidation, rarely posting content myself.
I’m now excited about having just made the move to another platform, Bluesky, where I have the capacity to select the people, the organisations and the topics that I’m especially interested in, without the nonsense. The operating experience of Bluesky is very similar to Twitter. But behind the user interface, the platform runs on a very different set of principles. Rather than being centrally controlled, with one individual potentially having all the say on how the app develops, Bluesky is built on an open-source framework. This means that people outside of the company are able to access and understand how the platform works, its’ engineering and design. This transparency is crucial for an online realm in which masses of people share information and advocate, influence perspectives and shape collective values.
Bluesky’s logo is a simple blue butterfly. The app creators say that they chose the butterfly as a symbol of change and transformation, and “Like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis, we are starting to open up”, referring to the open-source model, in contrast to the closed algorithms of X.
Transparency in how data is shared and moderated is important when we consider that these platforms have become integral to how many of us get information, including developments relating to climate, water quality and nature conservation. Its where we see links to publications and research findings; access the latest news from public policy researchers and conservation initiatives; and share insights among a wide conservation community.
Social media is often where I follow links to the latest publications about practical actions that communities can take to make space for nature too. Its where we learn about the publication of new books on whales, birdsong, Irish rainforests, and rewilding. Who gets heard and amplified is a big factor in how public opinion evolves, and this in turn has a major influence on public policy. In a way that nobody could have predicted 20 years ago, social media apps and algorithms have a key role in decision making and thus to the future health of ecosystems across the globe.
In this way the butterfly in the Bluesky logo is a graphic representation of the many creatures whose lives are shaped by how we, humans, run our societies and go about our daily lives. During winter, butterflies are rarely seen on the wing, though this is changing as the climate warms. Wetter, stormier weather will be as unwelcome for butterflies as it is for us, though they are without the buffers that we can avail of. Winter warmth, a result of climate change, will have negative implications for most invertebrates. Increasing winter temperatures will disrupt the life cycles of many species, for example, and extended droughts in spring will deprive butterflies, moths, bees and hoverflies, among others, of the resources they need to survive. Habitat loss is exacerbated by climate change too.
Here in the depth of winter, navigating drizzle and many hours of darkness, it can be hard to imagine the freedom of summer days, when butterflies’ colourful wings go flapping gently from flower to flower, supping nectar and warming their bodies in the sunshine. Planning for wildlife throughout the year can be a helpful approach to wintering. As the imminent future looks bleak on many levels, each of us can create space for resilience.
Considering the plight of bees and butterflies is a good rule of thumb when making space for nature. For example, only four of the 35 butterfly species we have in Ireland overwinter as butterflies. The remainder spend winter as eggs or caterpillars, hidden away under fallen leaves, nestled under moss, suspended from plants, or embedded in the soil.
Leave fallen leaves as shelter for overwintering caterpillars. Allow nettles, brambles and other wild plants as a jumble of growth that can make the difference to a caterpillar surviving the winter or not. Wildflower verges don’t need to be trimmed and tidied for winter, instead try leaving some overwintering habitat in sheltered corners of the farm or garden. Plan for wildflower meadows, native hedgerows, ponds, and woodlands and how you might make these as wildlife friendly as possible.
And when you need a little inspiration, logging in to see what other wildlife enthusiasts are getting up to is sure to offer a boost.