“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” – James Baldwin

“Each generation must discover its mission, fulfill it or betray it, in relative opacity.” – Frantz Fanon 

“To build community requires vigilant awareness of the work we must continually do to undermine all the socialization that leads us to behave in ways that perpetuate domination.” – bell hooks

“All justice is slow, but we cannot stop asking for it.” – León Gieco

“We are the ones we have been waiting for.” –  June Jordan

Do I post enough Instagram Stories about Palestine? What if people think I don’t care?  They know I’m only posting this selfie because it helps against shadow banning, right?  What does it say about myself if I also want to share joyous moments that I am privileged enough to have on my social media profile in times of a live-streamed genocide? Am I a bad person? Why do I care about this?

As someone who considers themselves to be a person who cares about others, as someone who engages in social movements at times, and as a media researcher, I have been spiraling on questions like these for a while. The current apocalyptic and alienating climate of doom scrolling is an absurd one. Who does not feel alienated after encountering live footage from a genocide with all its horrors, influencers promoting their skin-care routine, new policy proposals by racist governments that are directly in opposition with constitutional law, ASMR videos of people chewing on overpriced candy, reports on discovered pro-rape Telegram groups with over 70.000 men in them, brat and demure memes, countless hate-speech comments aimed at queer people, symptom check-lists to diagnose yourself with various mental illnesses, a selfie from your ex, and activists screaming though their screens that they cannot take the deafening silence anymore – within just a few minutes? 

To be Perceived in the Digital (Semi) Public Sphere 

I am a person who (over) analyzes and self-questions for a living. Most of my written work is simply a confession of my thoughts, which serves as a humble starting point for looking into something bigger. Apparently, this is very Foucaultian of me. I quickly realized the questions that were gnawing at me, and probably at many other people similar to me, all relate to my sense of self in relation to others. There is a tension between my perceived self and the representation of that self through my online self. I never realized this before, but for some reason, I crave to be seen online like I see myself offline – a desire that is impossible by default, of course. 

My discomfort knows different levels. How do the people who care about the same things as I do see me? Those who are not as involved yet, but have the potential to join us? Those who I disagree with? Those who pose a threat to me and those I care about? And in turn, am I seeing their ‘true selves’ through their online self? Am I making assumptions about them? What are the effects of this on our feelings of collectivity and our ability to work and exist together during this end (and hopefully rebirth) of the world?

When individuals who are part of social movements are organizing together and are trying to mobilize more people to join their cause (physical presence at a protest, a petition signature, a donation, etc.), naturally tensions and conflict between them arise during that process. This has always been the case throughout history, however, our current digital communication landscape in which movements organize and mobilize is influencing these processes in new ways. 

Based on my experiences, the above questions are rooted in the tension between private and public communication. The current (semi) digital public sphere, if we can even call it that, consists of various intertwined digital communication platforms and tools; private messages, group chats of varying sizes and goals (WhatsApp, Telegram, Signal, etc.), the feeds of big tech social media platforms (Meta’s Instagram, Facebook & Threads, X, YouTube, etc.) and its alternatives (Mastodon, Blue Sky, Peertube, Discord, etc.), on which information, call to actions and opinions are shared in various forms (stories, posts, reels, comments, etc.). 

When looking into this landscape through the lens of the emotions that arise when being perceived, multiple questions arise:

• Reputation and call-out & cancel culture (What if someone I know is canceled? Should I stick with them? What if I did something unintentionally to get me canceled? What if I hurt someone? Could cancel culture be a potential activist practice of accountability?); 
• Private conflict becoming public & (out of context) circulating screenshots (Should I warn my comrade about a screenshot of their private conversation that is circulating? Do I have the emotional space to join organizations that fight in public? Or is transparency a good thing?); 
• Comment discussions (Does anyone ever even listen to someone else online? Why do I spend so much time reading strangers their arguments?); 
• Tone policing and performativity (I’m allowed to be mad about this, why are people ignoring the facts of my message? Am I posting this because I care or because I want people to know that I care?);
• Capacity (Should I leave this group chat because I’m too overwhelmed? Will they know I am still active in 4 other ones? Do people find it weird if I stay in this group and never say anything? Is it rude to leave without saying anything? What if I burn out?).  

All of these are influenced by the platform’s viral nature, which makes showing the correct moral opinion as quickly as possible more important than contemplating and forming an informed critical argument. This also connects to what Zeynep Tufekci concludes in Twitter and Teargas about digital platforms prioritizing visibility (aka what goes viral), instead of long-term, systemic change. What do we do then, with the tensions that arise when organizers attempt to mobilize as many people as possible and what happens when matters that were intended to remain private become public for many to see? What does all of this mean for the public image of a movement?  

Infrastructures of Visibility 

The tensions that arise while being perceived in the digital (semi) public sphere are driven by how the infrastructures of visibility are designed within these platforms. Firstly through the ways in which information circulates; what information is visible and what is hidden:

• The differences between watching, witnessing, surveilling & taking action (What does it do to a human being to see a child be blown up by a bomb? Why won’t we act? Are we numb? When are we spending too much time addressing others’ behavior instead of taking action? We are surveilled by the ones who oppress us, but do we also surveil each other? Are platforms keeping the cops in our heads alive?) 
• Content moderation & protection (Who decides what we see on our feed and based on what rules, what ideologies? Who decides what is considered the truth and what is fake news or propaganda? Should I use a trigger warning? Should I protect myself from certain content related to my traumas? Would I even be able to? Should I always confront myself with reality? Do I deserve protection when half of the world is burning? Why? Why not?);
• Shadowbanning infrastructures and their counter-tactics (If we’re all shadowbanned, why are we even sharing information if it will only reach those who already agree with us? Why are we even on these platforms? How do we reach enough people if we’re not?).

This brings me to the second way design shapes visibility; whether it’s a big tech platform or an alternative:

• Numbers (Perhaps if I delete WhatsApp more people will join Signal. But what if I miss important messages?); 
• Accessibility (Could I explain to my grandmother why she should use Signal and not WhatsApp? Do I have enough skills to work with or set up an alternative?); 
• Privacy and safety (Do the people in my DM who intimidate me when I speak out really know where I live? What does it mean for my future if my name ends up on a watch list because I am in a certain WhatsApp group? Should I use an alias? Are alternatives really that much safer?);
• Dependency (Isn’t it a privilege to even have the space to think about alternatives, while some people’s lives depend on big tech platforms? There must be a difference between necessity and laziness here? Should we not just accept that big tech is going to be here for a while and deal with that, instead of morally judging those that still use these services?).

All of this is pretty exhausting. So I ask myself: Should I leave all social media platforms, evil and alternative, to focus on offline life? Should I just go off the grid completely? Is there even a point? 

Misdirected 

Spending all of this emotional energy on reflecting on what it means to be perceived and be visible, does not only make me feel tired, it also makes me feel quite isolated and stuck. So I ask myself, how do we deal with these questions and emotions productively and constructively? How does all of this influence how we organize together? And how can we be strategic about this? 

Because something feels off about the questions I’ve been pondering over. I know who I am and am comfortable looking in the mirror. Why do I care about an Instagram selfie then? What I am trying to share is not about personal insecurities or anxieties per se, it’s about something bigger – something systemic. Is the time we spend on this emotional labor not just a distraction to keep us from organizing effectively and from caring for each other and ourselves in the process? What if it is not just a distraction, but what if we’re being misdirected? Are we stuck in a hyperreality where we are experiencing representations (Instagram stories, group chat messages, screenshots, comments, etc.) as more “real” than reality itself? Has platform capitalism masked the real so much, that the actual organizing that needs to happen has become elusive? Are we moving into something darker than platform capitalism, where platforms are not just profit-driven but also ideologically driven (spoiler: the answer is yes and, surprise, it’s related to facism)? How do we wake up and escape this matrix? How do we break free from being frozen in deep emotions such as doubt, shame and fear, when all we want to do is change something?

During the final stage of the INC in its current form, I will research the emotional dimensions in digital media that shape tension and conflict within social movements, showing how platforms are designed to keep them from organizing effectively and caring for others and themselves. And most importantly, what to do to navigate these tensions better.