Why I’ve Left X

Social media has been part of my work long before politics. While leaflets, village hall meetings, and community magazines still reach many households, we know that for millions, news and social interaction now come through a laptop, tablet, or mobile phone.

Originally, platforms like Twitter and Facebook were a way to reconnect with friends, share family photos, and discuss ideas—almost replacing a chat in the pub. For me, it coincided with raising young children and family living abroad, making online connection invaluable.

But smartphones quickly became our cameras, address books, and shopping portals. Streaming TV and online retail cemented their role as our default tool. I am sure most of us did not notice as we lost the art of phone conversations and retreated behind screens. Brexit debates moved online, and during COVID, we relied on Zoom and WhatsApp for family games and street support groups, and many of us convinced ourselves that our children absolutely needed their own phone to combat what the media was telling us was a more dangerous world (when the reality is that the greatest risk is within people we know).

I love the freedom technology gives me—I’m writing this on my iPad while charging my car and listening to a podcast. Pandora’s box is open; we won’t get rid of tech. But if we let it take over or fall into the wrong hands, it can cause real harm. The latest scandal—AI nudification—is a red line.

This follows other troubling trends: generative AI threatening creative industries by using authors’ and artists’ work without consent; the threat of digital ID (now receding after a huge political and public backlash) risks excluding those without internet access and creating data risks; and smartphones in schools, once seen as educational tools, now weaponising adolescence.

Those with power must act responsibly. Tech giants need clear boundaries, and governments must regulate to protect the vulnerable. The Online Safety Act is a start, but tech moves fast—further measures are essential. We must give children their innocence back by removing phones from schools and limiting social media access. Our personal property and images should be as protected online as in the physical world. And as a society, we must agree on what decency looks like.

I don’t want my content—designed to inform constituents and promote local groups—sitting alongside harmful material. That’s why I’ve left X and deleted the app. Many organisations have done the same, and I welcome parliamentary amendments for wider protections.

But we shouldn’t demonise the virtual world. It enables medics and military to simulate procedures before real-life action, boosts productivity, reduces environmental impact through online meetings, and lets us explore the world for education and enjoyment.

I’ll continue using online platforms for work, rest, and play—but now is the time for Parliament to lead. We need stronger laws, tougher enforcement, and a clear social contract for the digital age. If we wouldn’t tolerate abuse, exploitation, or harm in our schools, workplaces, or streets, we must not tolerate it online. That’s not censorship—it’s common decency. Let’s act now.