Let’s not deceive ourselves. Social media is not just for fun. It is not just for connection. It is an arena—a place built for the masses to watch, cheer, and destroy.

And guess what? It’s not new.

In ancient Rome, the rich built the Coliseum. A massive stadium where poor people gathered to watch fellow poor people kill themselves. Gladiators fought. The crowd screamed. Blood was spilled.

The rulers sat high, sipping wine, enjoying the show.

Sound familiar?

It should. Because the same thing is happening today.

The only difference?

The swords are now tweets.

The battlefield is now your timeline.

And the poor? They are still the ones fighting.

The Modern-Day Bloodsport

Every day, social media feeds us new battles.

Somebody insults. Somebody replies.

A scandal trends. A hashtag explodes.

Somebody gets canceled.

We laugh.

We cheer.

We share.

Just like the Roman crowd.

And the rich? They sit high. They sip wine. They own the platforms.

They profit from the chaos.

The poor and middle class? They fight. They insult each other over celebrities, politicians, and brands that don’t even know they exist.

Meanwhile, the actual owners of social media—Zuckerberg, Musk, the billionaires—are making money.

Every tweet. Every fight. More engagement, more revenue.

Rome had lions.

We have algorithms.

They feed on rage, insults, and division.

The more you fight, the more powerful they get.

A Tale As Old As Power

The elders say, “When two elephants fight, the grass suffers.”

But today, it’s ants fighting over crumbs while the elephants count their gold.

Think about it:

Why is there always a new trending fight every week?

Why does social media reward outrage and insults?

Why do poor people cancel each other, while the rich quietly protect their own?

Because we are in the pit, fighting for sport.

They are in the high seats, enjoying the show.

The Winners and The Losers

Who wins?

The platform owners. The billionaires. The media giants.

Who loses?

The people dragging each other every day.

Somebody gets banned.

Somebody loses a job.

Somebody gets canceled.

And the rich? They move on.

They don’t fight in public. They fight in boardrooms.

Rome fell. But the Coliseum remained.

The empire collapsed. But the idea survived.

And now?

The whole world is the arena.

We are the gladiators.

So, What Now?

The elders say, “If the goat knew why the butcher smiled, it wouldn’t dance toward the knife.”

Think.

Before you enter the next Twitter war, ask yourself:

Who benefits?

Before you insult somebody’s mother over a football match, ask yourself:

Who is making money from this?

Before you pick sides in a celebrity drama, ask yourself:

Am I the audience, or am I the entertainment?

The Coliseum is here.

But nobody forces you to fight.