Here’s a guessing game for you. Which man of power wrote these three tweets?

“Trump blames me for WSJ poll, fights FoxNews. Time to calm down. If I running anti-Trump conspiracy then doing lousy job!”

“Hillary speech awful point after point. Eg, better education but against charters, rein in Wall St which she will never do, etc.”

“Life changing innovation 20th cent first Wright Bros, last the Internet. 21st cent? Smart phones, search, social media. All shrinking world”

To the untrained eye, they look like the ramblings of an illiterate five-year-old. Yet each one of them is the handiwork of a man widely considered one of the most powerful in the world. Take a bow Rupert Murdoch: exhibit A in the argument that possessing power is all about mystique – and the careful cultivation of it.

Social media is, by and large, the enemy of the powerful. Or at least, it’s the enemy of the powerful who mistakenly believe trying to tap into the zeitgeist by setting up an Instagram account is a really cool idea.

Sure, Malcolm Turnbull helped mitigate his Prince of Point Piper tag in the early days by posting pictures of himself on trains and buses. But did anyone seriously forget that he had enough money to get about in a private jet, should he choose?

And yes, NSW Premier Mike Baird does a good line in self-deprecation. His tweets about watching The Bachelor with his daughters were amusing, and he cannily cast the news that he’d fallen down the stairs in the middle of the night and fractured his vertebrae as a silly duffer moment rather than cause for concern.

But did we really need to know that he wears socks to bed? And given that once lodged in the mind such a graphic visual is hard to unsee, did it enhance his image?

The answer is no, and no. To my mind, not a single present-day person of power and prestige has had their reputation enhanced by letting the world see how limited their thought processes are – or how daggy their home life. Politicians may rabbit on about the facility of speaking directly to constituents without the filter of some pesky newspaper or TV journalist, but no-one believes for a second that that’s why they tweet.

Social media is all about affirmation. And say what you like about its image-refining and marketing attributes, those who do a lot of it, nay, who get addicted to it, have a grasping need to be liked. Literally and Facebook-figuratively. Come to think of it, that makes it the perfect medium for politicians.

But only the needy ones. Consider Genghis Khan, Mao Zedong, Joseph Stalin and Attila the Hun. Now there was real power. And not a tweeter among them. Would Machiavelli have maintained a Snapchat account? Good god no. Would Margaret Thatcher have passed the poll tax if she’d been fussing over her status update? Of course not. The lady would not have been for tweeting.

Cast your eye over this magazine’s covert power list. How many tweets do you suppose Martin Parkinson, Bruce McWilliam or David Gonski have sent between them? None. Zero. Zip.

They understand the importance of silence. They appreciate the tactical advantage that comes from not telegraphing your every waking thought. They recognise that even they are prone to the occasional brain lapse – but why share it with the world?

During a speaking engagement in Brisbane earlier this year, former prime minister John Howard – who arguably knows a thing or two about power – said he had nothing but contempt for the fatuousness of Facebook and Twitter.

“Facebook is for the impetuous,” he said. “Developing inadequacies and foolishness into an art form.”

#wisewords.

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The AFR Magazine Power issue, out Friday September 30 inside The Australian Financial Review. Sign up below to get a reminder when the list is out.