I was unceremoniously banned from Twitter (and I still don’t know why)

I suppose it’s fair, given that I was involved in drafting the online harms white paper back in 2019, writes Salma Shah

We all share a single trait: we’re Twitter outcasts (Getty)

It is not often that one finds themselves in the company of Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin, but I am currently occupying just this position. We all share a single trait: we’re Twitter outcasts, pushed off the social media platform for various misdeeds.

To my knowledge, I haven’t incited any violence and certainly think my punishment is a tad harsher than the one dished out to a guy that actually invaded another sovereign country, but Twitter, it seems, is a law unto itself.

I have been unceremoniously dumped for “violating [Twitter’s] policy regarding misleading and deceptive identities”. For some reason, they think I have misappropriated my own face and demanded that I delete the offending image. I haven’t changed my profile pic for approximately four years and recall with great joy the photo taken of me whilst on a train to Brussels because it was one of the few where I looked nice.

In my panic, I wondered if Twitter was accusing me of not looking the same now as then, and it’s true: I don’t look the same. I had a baby 15 weeks ago and I haven’t snapped back to my pre-maternal shape. Perhaps I never will. So is Twitter trying to fat shame me? Do I need to lose a few pounds before I’m re-admitted to the club?

The truth is, I don’t know. The site has been incredibly vague about why it has decided that I am no longer who I say I am. In order to unlock my account I must now provide photo ID, which is an utter impertinence. No such check was made to create the account and there is a complete lack of clarity as to what happens to my licence and/or my passport when it is uploaded.

Has someone made a credible but nonetheless vexatious claim? Is this a glitch or a mistake? If I want to continue to use the site without uploading my personal information to send god knows where, I can opt to accept that I violated the rules. How can I possibly acquiesce to the accusation that I have been falsely posing… as myself?

This issue highlights the difficulties of the Online Safety Bill, currently on its journey through parliament. I suppose it’s fair that Twitter is now having a go at me, given that I was involved in drafting the online harms white paper back in 2019, which led to this piece of legislation.

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We expect commercial entities of any type to pay attention to the safety of their customers or, in this case, users. But in doing so, we are giving companies the difficult task of policing their platforms with all the contradictions and arbitrary judgement that entails. The proposed regulator of this new code of governance is Ofcom, which barely has the capacity to do what it is currently tasked to do. So how will it govern the millions of transactions taking place on a social media site on a daily basis? The answer isn’t yet obvious.

This change is going to harm Twitter’s business, too. With my newfound freedom from the shackles of Twitter I could take up a more fulfilling hobby. The removal of the compulsion to check and remark on all the passing banalities of my life will probably free up enough time for me to do a part-time degree in nuclear fission. I may never log back in.

And then there’s the resentment. I’ve seen genuinely bad things on this site, such as people who’ve made racist comments being allowed their freedom of expression no matter how many complaints have been made. Perhaps this is divine intervention and it’s time for me to spend less time typing and more time doing. In any case, I hope I get back on Twitter before Trump. It’s just too embarrassing otherwise.