Co-written with Cynthia Nahhas
Our relationship with social media has always been defined by no other than “it’s complicated.” Being of the generation that grew up with an overwhelming number of screens all around, online trends were always changing, until they eventually accumulated in us a severe hatred of online content that only screamed consumerism. Trends were out as quick as they were in, and it was never understandable why void content would garner so much following. What should have been said was never said, and it seemed that bourgeoisie “influencers” were much more newsworthy than a silence that has suffocated issues of social justice, such as Palestine.
The beginning of May took us all by surprise, beginning with the forced dispossessions happening in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood of occupied East Jerusalem. Soon after, the cameras of the world were directed on Palestine in its entirety, from the West Bank to Gaza, and the lands occupied in 1948. Most surprisingly, it seemed that the online world had finally broken its silence, and feeds were soon enough swamped with content documenting the occupation of Palestine.
To say it was overwhelming would be phrasing it lightly. How does one make sense of a sudden eruption of voices on an occupation that has been brushed upon for decades if not more? It was good nonetheless, and it got the world talking. However, it left many of us with imminent guilt as soon as our story feed went silent. Oftentimes too, it leaves one at a crossroads unsure if our feelings of overwhelm are valid, when all we ought to do, especially as Palestinians and allies outside of Palestine, is post through a screen. Hence, the lingering question seeped in: Does the work towards liberation online have as much momentum as work on the ground? And now more than anything, can we trust online spaces to pave a way for liberation?
Notably, this is not the first time that a movement garnered momentum virtually. Beginning with the Arab Spring, the recent uprisings within the Arab region were labelled as social media revolutions in one way or another. The Egyptian revolution was labeled as the “Twitter Revolution,” while the Lebanese October 17 revolution was labelled as the “Whatsapp Revolution” in its early days. Although these labels were used in different contexts and for different reasons, they both reflect the seemingly large role social media is ascribed within Arab revolutions.
After the forced displacement in Sheikh Jarrah specifically and the occupation generally broke onto social media, the Palestinian intifada fell into the same narratives. This was mainly due to posts flooding the social media feeds, video montages, and tweets from the ground. Many, rightfully so, dedicate themselves to raising online voices for there is a fear of online silence, which can be a loss of momentum. Hence, the return to selfies, beach pictures, and fancy lunches, as though the neighbouring country is not under occupation could feel unsettling. Consequently, many posts circulate that urge people to like, share, retweet, and comment as a form of revolution. Perhaps particularly dramatic and pseudo-poetic, these posts claim that the retweet button is the very cause of this electronic intifada.
The problem then becomes this: social media is no longer understood as a tool used by the people, rather the root of the movement. This takes away the agency and efforts by the people participating in the uprisings, people who are only using social media. Yes, social media does facilitate the spread of information, but the mobilization of people must be attributed to the people themselves. Otherwise, it becomes a narrative of a Western, or even Israeli, victory. This is especially true in the case of Instagram, which is not just a Western platform but an Israeli-headed one. Our success becomes a Western success, spreading a narrative that speaks to orientalist tropes of backward Arabs who need a white man’s hand. In this context, not only is social media the sole hero, it is a white one.
However, overestimating social media’s power does not only enable it as the liberating hero, but also the oppressive villain. It has come to the attention of many pro-Palestinian users that their content is being shadowbanned. Story views have gone down significantly, so have the number of likes. Many posts were removed for going against “community guidelines,” while imposters and harassers continue to roll the platform freely. Not to mention, zionist content with chants like “Death to Arabs!” remain up. It is clear that the algorithms that make these platforms are against defenders of the Palestinian cause, and it aims to obscure any related content. From this came the other set of agency-abdicating narratives: social media is an all-powerful tool that will crush all in its way, including the Palestinian cause.
These narratives are not completely unfounded. Social media platforms do not exist in a void, for they are products of hegemonic Western politics. Our voices on these platforms will not be left to circulate without restriction, as we have seen with the constant deletion of pro-Palestinian pages. In other words, Palestinian online mobilization will only exist under the mercy of these platforms and what suits their zionist propaganda, leaving no room for sustainable long-term pro-Palestinian narratives to circulate.
However, counter-hegemonic spaces can be formed, and might even persist. While it is true that social media platforms, many of which are run by Israelis, are actively trying to silence pro-Palestinian voices, their power is not all-encompassing. The reality is this: it’s a push and pull, no matter which extreme side is examined, hero or villain, social media is neither. A microsome of this reality can be seen through the ways people found loopholes to go around the algorithm. Together, they found ways to use social media against itself, certain tools that could possibly fight off the algorithm: stickers, polls, mini-quizzes, and other Instagram features that are meant to increase engagement.
Not only so, but a myriad of posts also included raising awareness on the usage of correct terminology, such as describing the occupation as settler-colonialism rather than “conflict.” This amongst many strengthened social media circulation of an authentic Palestinian narrative, and broke academic walls in which such rhetoric is analyzed. It made certain that such discussions transcend classrooms and instead created inevitable conversations available to anyone online and everywhere, from the New York Times comment sections to Twitter.
Nonetheless, this push and pull is proof that the power of social media can be negotiated; it is not dictating or causing our movements, nor can it crush them. It is rather a tool that we are using and finding ways to use it to our aid.
Whether or not the Palestinian counter-hegemonic discourse will ever prevail in these spaces is nearly an unanswerable question. Some might deem Western rhetoric too powerful, while others might overestimate the power of digital resistance. However, what remains certain is the fact that power can be negotiated. Most significantly, if we want to truly decolonize, it is essential to abdicate social media of the great power it has been ascribed and return agency to the people, who in the case of Palestine, have been born into the heart of the occupation.
Edited by Cynthia Nahhas