The company’s head of Trust and Safety, Del Harvey, is also the subject of private disgruntlement. As one person told me, Harvey runs a team of dozens and dozens of employees, and she told Dorsey and other executives that Jones had not violated the company’s terms of service, and therefore should not be banned. Yet it took one reporter an afternoon to find countless violations. “How many times is Jack going to let Del make him look bad before he loses his patience?” this person asked me rhetorically. As my colleague Maya Kosoff reported earlier this year, Harvey has a history of slip-ups at Twitter—mistakes that have huge implications for the people affected by them, but that leave Harvey seemingly untouched. I’m repeatedly asked whether Dorsey cares how he’s perceived in these instances. It’s a question for which I don’t have an answer.

The 41-year-old from St. Louis has not always been so indifferent to his reputation. There was a time, not long ago, when Dorsey cared very much what people thought of him, and what he thought of people. He went to great pains to cultivate a persona that was manicured down to the brand of jeans he wore—literally. He cared what Wall Street thought of his performance and how he was written about by media outlets large and small, and he certainly cared what people said about him on social media. But in an ironic twist, the more disliked Dorsey has become on the platform that he helped create, the more he’s seemed indifferent to public opinion. Go look at the @-replies on any tweet he’s sent in the past two years, and you will see a firing-range of vitriol with @jack as the bullseye.

On the outside, Dorsey doesn’t seem to care how these little moments play out, intuitively aware, like Trump, that such fires eventually burn out on their own. Dorsey doesn’t fret anymore when Twitter’s stock price boomerangs. He doesn’t respond to the people in Silicon Valley who seem to loathe him almost as much as they loathe Mark Zuckerberg. He doesn’t care if he’s admonished for going on a 10-day silent retreat as the world burns, like that meme of the little dog. In sharp contrast to the Alex Jones fiasco, Dorsey recently kicked off Twitter’s 3,500-employee, company-wide meeting by sitting cross-legged on the floor for a 10-minute meditation.

Dorsey’s management style at Twitter is made even more unfathomable by its marked contrast to the way things run at Square, his finance company. There, in offices mere feet from Twitter’s, Dorsey runs a tight ship that works so well it is almost in autopilot. His team expertly executes on product updates, the company shows continual growth, and while there are certainly minor internal hiccups, it is largely devoid of pandemonium. Though they often feel like the second child next to Twitter, the people who work there genuinely love the culture. Yet at Twitter, while Dorsey is clearly in charge and making decisions that are helping to grow revenue, a large part of the company’s stock price is a result of factors beyond Dorsey’s control.

Exhibit A, of course, is Donald J. Trump, who uses Twitter about as often as he breathes, giving it more relevance than at any other time in the company’s turbulent 12-year history. If Trump decided to stop using Twitter (please God!) and sidestepped over to Instagram to stir up chaos in little square pictures, you can bet Twitter’s market cap would fall quicker than Facebook’s did after its last earnings report ($120 billion in a single day). Which leads us to Exhibit B through Z for why Twitter has seen its value rise so much in the past year: as Facebook’s users have jumped off the News Feed cliff, and as Snap’s have been sucked into the Instagram Stories ether, advertisers have funneled significantly more media buying toward the Twitter timeline.

But perhaps there’s another reason Dorsey has done very little to actually change Twitter’s culture, despite claiming he wants to. Most people I’ve talked to who either work for Twitter or who have left the company in recent years, believe that the platform’s vitriol and meanness can’t be fixed without hurting the company’s financial model. Twitter is like a balancing scale, with assholes and revenue on the same side; less assholes means less money. That’s a tough decision—to make the world a better place while screwing up your business. Instead, it seems Dorsey is just going to sit there and say, “This is fine.” Even though, to the rest of us, it very clearly is not.