I am Twitter’s worst nightmare. That’s because I consider myself an aggressive centrist on most political issues. I go into debates with an open mind and an open heart, ready and willing to change my mind.

I genuinely believe that someone should change, or at least slightly moderate, their opinion after every debate. What’s the point of argument for argument’s sake, knowing that both you and your debating buddy are fixed in your opinions? It does nothing except leave you flustered and frustrated, swearing at the keyboard.

However, social media apps, especially Twitter, thrive off hot-blooded anger. Algorithms push provocative content to the top of timelines encouraging clicks, comments and chaos.

That’s why people like Zarah Sultana, Ben Shapiro and Donald Trump do so well online. Rather than exploring complex ideas, they provoke people with outrageous remarks. They humiliate their Twitter enemies with quips without consideration for their feelings.

Blue-ticked Twitter celebrities (like those mentioned above) build cult followings by publishing succinct soundbites that suck the nuance out of any conversation. Aggressive takedowns get more likes and shares than useful statistics. People don’t post on social media to learn; they post on social media to win.

This breeds dangerous echo chambers, in which people watch their side of the argument win again and again. Naturally, anyone caught up in these self-congratulatory Twitter groups will badly misread and catastrophically misunderstand the public mood when it comes to most political issues.

Being a relatively public and outspoken Twitter user, I have naturally been on the receiving end of aggression more times than I count. I am branded a “fascist” by the left and slammed as a “snowflake” by the right. Luckily this does nothing except reassure me that I probably have quite a sound perspective on most matters, espousing BBC levels of impartiality.

This happened recently, when I wrote a piece for the JC about why Jewish schools need to start teaching students about the Nakba and the experiences of Palestinians in classrooms.

I argued that Jewish students are being sent to university unprepared and unable to have intelligent conversations about the conflict, having never been taught about it properly. This was my experience.

The piece prompted a huge Twitter backlash from those on the right of the community. I was branded a “fake Jew”, a “self-hating Jew”, called a child with no real understanding of how the world works and trolled by people I’ve never even met.

Similarly, while I was campaigning to have David Miller fired from Bristol University, hard-left activists labelled me a “fascist”, a “Zionist racist”, a hater of Palestinians and, even a “big-nosed Jew”.

Antisemitism aside, people have grown accustomed to making snap judgments based on snapshots of articles they’ve never bothered to read.

In my case, people were calling me a moron based on screenshots of an article, then later revised their opinion after reading the full piece and the quotes in context. Misinformation, confusion and pride fuel this spitfire of angry misjudged messages.

It’s no surprise, therefore, that Twitter can often descend into a vile cocktail of hate, racism and just general nastiness.

It is a space where the socially unacceptable can be said without fear of consequence, where masks of anonymity empower people to type things they would never otherwise utter.

This issue is as widespread as it is malicious. An Amnesty report revealed that 1.1 million abusive tweets were sent to women in 2017, averaging an abusive message to a woman every 30 seconds. Infamously, following England’s loss in the Euro 2020 final, three black British footballers were sent catastrophic amounts of racist abuse.

Nothing nuanced can possibly be said with 140 characters. When people try to unpick some of the world’s most complicated conflicts and policy decisions in half sentences, it’s clear that perspective will be missing.

Don’t get me wrong, I love Twitter. It’s allowed me to express myself and my opinion publicly. It’s enabled me to campaign effectively and hopefully change the world for the better.

That being said, it is oftentimes an ugly and unintelligent place.

It’s OK to get stuck i,n but be aware of the world you’re entering into… or suffer the consequences.