X Pulls the Plug — the Era of “Talking Your Way to Traffic” Comes to an End.
Source: TechFlow (Shenchao)
X has shut down “tweet-to-earn.”
Yesterday, X’s Head of Product Nikita Bier announced that any application that rewards users for posting will have its API access revoked.
He added—almost considerately—that affected developers are welcome to contact the team, and X will help them migrate to Threads or Bluesky.
“The landlord kicks you out—and even helps arrange the moving truck.”
As soon as the news broke, the InfoFi sector collapsed across the board. KAITO fell by 20%, Cookie dropped by 20%, and the Kaito Yappers community, with 157,000 members, was shut down entirely.
Less than an hour later, Kaito founder Yu Hu published a long-form statement.
The post contained no apology to the community and no protest against X’s policy change. Its core message was straightforward:
Move elsewhere.

Yaps is being discontinued. The new product is called Kaito Studio, which will follow a more traditional marketing model—one-to-one partnerships between brands and creators—moving away from the open, points-farming system where anyone could participate.
Twitter is no longer the priority. The focus will shift to YouTube and TikTok.
The crypto niche is no longer the sole target either; the expansion is toward finance, AI, and the broader creator economy—a market worth USD 200 billion.
The product is ready.
The direction is clear.
The data is in place.
And a new narrative has been formed.
Still, this does not feel like an emergency response written within an hour. It feels more like something prepared in advance—kept in a drawer, waiting for X to make the first move.
At the same time, there were earlier signals on-chain.
Kaito’s multisig contract previously distributed 24 million KAITO tokens to five addresses. One of those addresses transferred 5 million KAITO in full to Binance a week ago.
It looks far more like a cash-out at the right moment.

Advance communication.
Advance drafting.
Advance transfer of tokens to exchanges.
Everything that needed to be done was done.
Then, once X made the announcement, the long statement followed immediately—polished, composed, framed as a proactive pivot and an embrace of change.
In the statement, Yu Hu wrote:
“After discussions with X, both parties agreed that a fully permissionless distribution system is no longer viable.”
Agreed.
Being kicked out is reframed as “reaching consensus.”
A product being effectively terminated is repackaged as a strategic upgrade.
This kind of rhetoric is all too familiar in crypto.
Projects never say, “We failed.”
They say they are exploring new possibilities.
They say market conditions have changed.
They say this is a planned transition.
It sounds graceful—but it is also pure PR.
At its core, X’s ban was merely the final blow. The “tweet-to-earn” model was already on its way out.
Mining by posting sounds appealing: tokenizing attention, fairly compensating creators, building a decentralized information economy.
But once deployed in reality, everyone knows how it played out.
If rewards are tied to posting, people post more.
If AI can generate content at scale, AI does the posting.
If accounts are unlimited, people spin up endless alts.
According to CryptoQuant, on January 9 alone, bots generated 7.75 million crypto-related tweets on X, a year-over-year increase of 1,224%.
ZachXBT had already been criticizing this last year, calling InfoFi platforms the primary drivers of AI-generated spam. He even offered a USD 5,000 bounty for user data to identify bot networks.
Genuine discussion was drowned out by endless “GM,” “LFG,” and “bullish.” Humans and bots blended together to the point where telling them apart became nearly impossible.
X’s Head of Product, Nikita Bier, had already posted a warning last week:
“CT is dying from suicide, not from the algorithm.”
Crypto Twitter is killing itself—it isn’t being killed by the algorithm.
At the time, the crypto community mocked him for arrogance and responded with GM memes.
Looking back now, doesn’t it feel like a notice issued before an execution?
Addressing spam, Yu Hu said Kaito had tried everything: raising thresholds, adding filters, redesigning incentives.
None of it worked.
The moment you reward posting with tokens, you are effectively offering a bounty for noise. No threshold can outpace profit-driven behavior. Human incentives are straightforward: as long as rewards exist, spam will not stop.
More critically, the lifeline was never in their own hands.
What business was Kaito really in?
Leveraging X’s traffic, using tokens to incentivize content production, and selling the resulting data to projects for marketing.
X was the foundation. Kaito was the structure built on top.
The moment the owner of the foundation decides to reclaim it, the building collapses. No justification required. No negotiation needed. A single announcement is enough.
InfoFi claims to be about a decentralized attention economy. But the attention layer was never decentralized. The algorithm belongs to the platform. The API belongs to the platform. The users belong to the platform.
You can put points on-chain.
You can decentralize the token.
But you cannot decentralize Twitter.
A parasite attempting to overthrow its host does not trigger a revolution. The host simply pulls the plug.
Over the past few years, Web3 startups have repeatedly pursued this model: borrow Web2 traffic to build Web3 momentum. Users remain on Twitter. Data remains on Twitter. Attention remains on Twitter. But the token is self-issued, and the revenue flows inward.
It sounds clever—using leverage to achieve scale.
But someone else’s traffic will always belong to someone else. Platforms tolerate you only until you become inconvenient. Once you do, parasitic business models collapse instantly.
This should serve as a warning to every Web3 project built on borrowed platform traffic.
If your lifeline is controlled by someone else, then every dollar you earn exists only because it hasn’t yet been taken back.
Ask yourself whether you are building a company—or renting a room.
Renters should not think like landlords, and they certainly should not believe the house is theirs.
Kaito says it will move to YouTube and TikTok next.
But are those landlords really easier to negotiate with than Musk?
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Debunking the AI Doomsday Myth: Why Establishment Inertia and the Software Wasteland Will Save Us
Editor's Note: Citrini7's cyberpunk-themed AI doomsday prophecy has sparked widespread discussion across the internet. However, this article presents a more pragmatic counter perspective. If Citrini envisions a digital tsunami instantly engulfing civilization, this author sees the resilient resistance of the human bureaucratic system, the profoundly flawed existing software ecosystem, and the long-overlooked cornerstone of heavy industry. This is a frontal clash between Silicon Valley fantasy and the iron law of reality, reminding us that the singularity may come, but it will never happen overnight.
The following is the original content:
Renowned market commentator Citrini7 recently published a captivating and widely circulated AI doomsday novel. While he acknowledges that the probability of some scenes occurring is extremely low, as someone who has witnessed multiple economic collapse prophecies, I want to challenge his views and present a more deterministic and optimistic future.
In 2007, people thought that against the backdrop of "peak oil," the United States' geopolitical status had come to an end; in 2008, they believed the dollar system was on the brink of collapse; in 2014, everyone thought AMD and NVIDIA were done for. Then ChatGPT emerged, and people thought Google was toast... Yet every time, existing institutions with deep-rooted inertia have proven to be far more resilient than onlookers imagined.
When Citrini talks about the fear of institutional turnover and rapid workforce displacement, he writes, "Even in fields we think rely on interpersonal relationships, cracks are showing. Take the real estate industry, where buyers have tolerated 5%-6% commissions for decades due to the information asymmetry between brokers and consumers..."
Seeing this, I couldn't help but chuckle. People have been proclaiming the "death of real estate agents" for 20 years now! This hardly requires any superintelligence; with Zillow, Redfin, or Opendoor, it's enough. But this example precisely proves the opposite of Citrini's view: although this workforce has long been deemed obsolete in the eyes of most, due to market inertia and regulatory capture, real estate agents' vitality is more tenacious than anyone's expectations a decade ago.
A few months ago, I just bought a house. The transaction process mandated that we hire a real estate agent, with lofty justifications. My buyer's agent made about $50,000 in this transaction, while his actual work — filling out forms and coordinating between multiple parties — amounted to no more than 10 hours, something I could have easily handled myself. The market will eventually move towards efficiency, providing fair pricing for labor, but this will be a long process.
I deeply understand the ways of inertia and change management: I once founded and sold a company whose core business was driving insurance brokerages from "manual service" to "software-driven." The iron rule I learned is: human societies in the real world are extremely complex, and things always take longer than you imagine — even when you account for this rule. This doesn't mean that the world won't undergo drastic changes, but rather that change will be more gradual, allowing us time to respond and adapt.
Recently, the software sector has seen a downturn as investors worry about the lack of moats in the backend systems of companies like Monday, Salesforce, Asana, making them easily replicable. Citrini and others believe that AI programming heralds the end of SaaS companies: one, products become homogenized, with zero profits, and two, jobs disappear.
But everyone overlooks one thing: the current state of these software products is simply terrible.
I'm qualified to say this because I've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on Salesforce and Monday. Indeed, AI can enable competitors to replicate these products, but more importantly, AI can enable competitors to build better products. Stock price declines are not surprising: an industry relying on long-term lock-ins, lacking competitiveness, and filled with low-quality legacy incumbents is finally facing competition again.
From a broader perspective, almost all existing software is garbage, which is an undeniable fact. Every tool I've paid for is riddled with bugs; some software is so bad that I can't even pay for it (I've been unable to use Citibank's online transfer for the past three years); most web apps can't even get mobile and desktop responsiveness right; not a single product can fully deliver what you want. Silicon Valley darlings like Stripe and Linear only garner massive followings because they are not as disgustingly unusable as their competitors. If you ask a seasoned engineer, "Show me a truly perfect piece of software," all you'll get is prolonged silence and blank stares.
Here lies a profound truth: even as we approach a "software singularity," the human demand for software labor is nearly infinite. It's well known that the final few percentage points of perfection often require the most work. By this standard, almost every software product has at least a 100x improvement in complexity and features before reaching demand saturation.
I believe that most commentators who claim that the software industry is on the brink of extinction lack an intuitive understanding of software development. The software industry has been around for 50 years, and despite tremendous progress, it is always in a state of "not enough." As a programmer in 2020, my productivity matches that of hundreds of people in 1970, which is incredibly impressive leverage. However, there is still significant room for improvement. People underestimate the "Jevons Paradox": Efficiency improvements often lead to explosive growth in overall demand.
This does not mean that software engineering is an invincible job, but the industry's ability to absorb labor and its inertia far exceed imagination. The saturation process will be very slow, giving us enough time to adapt.
Of course, labor reallocation is inevitable, such as in the driving sector. As Citrini pointed out, many white-collar jobs will experience disruptions. For positions like real estate brokers that have long lost tangible value and rely solely on momentum for income, AI may be the final straw.
But our lifesaver lies in the fact that the United States has almost infinite potential and demand for reindustrialization. You may have heard of "reshoring," but it goes far beyond that. We have essentially lost the ability to manufacture the core building blocks of modern life: batteries, motors, small-scale semiconductors—the entire electricity supply chain is almost entirely dependent on overseas sources. What if there is a military conflict? What's even worse, did you know that China produces 90% of the world's synthetic ammonia? Once the supply is cut off, we can't even produce fertilizer and will face famine.
As long as you look to the physical world, you will find endless job opportunities that will benefit the country, create employment, and build essential infrastructure, all of which can receive bipartisan political support.
We have seen the economic and political winds shifting in this direction—discussions on reshoring, deep tech, and "American vitality." My prediction is that when AI impacts the white-collar sector, the path of least political resistance will be to fund large-scale reindustrialization, absorbing labor through a "giant employment project." Fortunately, the physical world does not have a "singularity"; it is constrained by friction.
We will rebuild bridges and roads. People will find that seeing tangible labor results is more fulfilling than spinning in the digital abstract world. The Salesforce senior product manager who lost a $180,000 salary may find a new job at the "California Seawater Desalination Plant" to end the 25-year drought. These facilities not only need to be built but also pursued with excellence and require long-term maintenance. As long as we are willing, the "Jevons Paradox" also applies to the physical world.
The goal of large-scale industrial engineering is abundance. The United States will once again achieve self-sufficiency, enabling large-scale, low-cost production. Moving beyond material scarcity is crucial: in the long run, if we do indeed lose a significant portion of white-collar jobs to AI, we must be able to maintain a high quality of life for the public. And as AI drives profit margins to zero, consumer goods will become extremely affordable, automatically fulfilling this objective.
My view is that different sectors of the economy will "take off" at different speeds, and the transformation in almost all areas will be slower than Citrini anticipates. To be clear, I am extremely bullish on AI and foresee a day when my own labor will be obsolete. But this will take time, and time gives us the opportunity to devise sound strategies.
At this point, preventing the kind of market collapse Citrini imagines is actually not difficult. The U.S. government's performance during the pandemic has demonstrated its proactive and decisive crisis response. If necessary, massive stimulus policies will quickly intervene. Although I am somewhat displeased by its inefficiency, that is not the focus. The focus is on safeguarding material prosperity in people's lives—a universal well-being that gives legitimacy to a nation and upholds the social contract, rather than stubbornly adhering to past accounting metrics or economic dogma.
If we can maintain sharpness and responsiveness in this slow but sure technological transformation, we will eventually emerge unscathed.
Source: Original Post Link

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