Has the use of social media in political affairs desensitised us to the nature of our current epoch of history?

By Sara Khaliq

There is the well recycled mantra that ‘what you don’t know, doesn’t hurt you’. The deadly beauty of social media is what we do know. We can access vaults of knowledge in the click of a finger. The days of letter writing and getting your news from the daily newspaper are over. But what are the effects of the dichotomy between the ‘Ancient’ (as some in ‘GEN Z’ would label the above transmissions of information) and the new digital age, of political circulation?

In the past week, Ukraine has been invaded by Russia. Regardless of any previous hostility or antagonism between the two, the fact stands that a sovereign state has been militaristically tarnished by another state. Of course, unfortunately, Ukraine is one of many states in our current international system that is a victim to what is fundamentally, a direct and highly publicized defilement of the basic human right to self-determination, and more simply, freedom. Yet when I have been browsing various social media platforms, the volume of posts that display satire, light-heartedness or mockery of the events unfolding in Ukraine, is astounding. I truly wonder when we entered an age where a war is a cause of creating memes, and not something that we should be aware will probably be taught as a tragedy in human history in classrooms in 50 years’ time.

We all know that without social media, we would hardly know anything at all about the Ukraine crisis, but it seems that information in the digital age, and our exposure to it, is synonymous with increasing desensitisation to issues that, frankly, should shake us to our cores. The purpose of this blog is not to have a moral debate on the human psyche, but instead I wish to try and create awareness of the callousness that people can display, even without explicit malicious intent, and perhaps try to understand why this effect is prevalent.

Due to the accessibility of social media, a lot of us use it to pass the time, share jokes and innovate our individuality. Whilst this is a proactive and healthy way to use such platforms, they also create a utopian fantasy that is disconnected from the realities that many people face. It is easy to dismiss the annihilation of civilians if you choose to watch and shares things that will make you laugh. This choice in the long term, can allow a person to distance themselves from the lives that they are not living. Instead, it can be viewed as something with mild distaste, but ‘Not our problem’. This complete lack of empathy is easier to stomach for some, than actual education on why those people are being annihilated in the first place. We occasionally see widespread outcry on a particular issue in the globe, for that week (notice I say week), there are hashtags trending, prayer emojis being littered onto comments of posts and dismay across social media platforms. After the due time is over, (a week apparently) all of this selective activism disappears, yet the issue hasn’t. This leads me onto my next insight, social media allows people to be strongly influenced by popular opinions and jargon. To the extent that people’s sentiments, are circulated more than the specifics of the issue itself. A way to put this into perspective, is that you may not know what the issue is, but you know what the popular thoughts around it are.

Furthermore, it is known that occasionally social media can become a breeding vacuum for intolerance and hatful dialogue, the words in this sentence should display how we are conditioned to normalise this. In this regard it is very easy to become acclimated, and therefore desensitised to such an environment where harrowing information is also being shared.

Social media has its fault lines that cannot be disputed, however, the matter remains that it is an invaluable methodology of informing people on events in the world, and can facilitate sustained activism and lobbying of governments but in light of this blog, at what expense?

Image: Keyboard, by Adi Kuntsman