Social Media and Mobilization: When the crisis does not get televised, will it get Instagram-med?
When social media became exceedingly popular at the beginning of the 21st century, social psychologists became interested in studying its implications. This curiosity was not surprising, considering the general scrutiny following technological advancements throughout history. For instance, telephones in late 1870s, televisions in the 1920s, personal computers in early 1970s, mobile phones at the end of the 20th century and finally, social media in early 21st century. A theory that made its way into vox populi is that social media means ‘to be disconnected’ from real-time social interactions. The epicenter of interest was adolescents who were active on sites like MySpace and Facebook. Claiming that they were replacing face-to-face interactions with virtual communication, researchers concluded that social media led to loneliness in ‘real life’. And while contemporary literature does not support that theory, it is also comically impractical to strip apart social media from real life post pandemic. In a study conducted by the University of Missouri in 2017, it was found that social media does not disrupt face-to-face interactions if individuals do not substitute the latter with the former. In simple words, as long as you’re not only using social media to stay connected, your social interactions will not suffer.
So, if not to replace real-time social interaction, why do people socialize online? A commonly cited reason is availability of various modes of interaction. Social media, at least in its current stage, allows us to express ourselves through text, images, videos, and other graphic elements. I would like to take this pitch a step further, and add that some of these communications are rather impersonal in nature. Posting a story about your day on Instagram and catching up with a friend over a phone call can debatably serve the same purpose. But the former is obviously more indirect and impersonal in nature. However, it is also more convenient and does not include the labor of picking up the phone, and communicating in real-time. Not to mention, an alarmingly large number of millennials have anxious thoughts when their phone rings. A second reason could be access to a larger community of likeminded individuals. One might argue that not everyone likes having ‘more people’ to socialize with. In fact, people with social anxiety or traits of introversion may not prefer large crowds. Therefore, this argument may not apply to everyone. But what happens when there are no standard rules for interaction and the level of intimacy reduces behind faceless words? Do they then experience the same level of discomfort?
General observation compels me to state otherwise. People often categorically socialize based on like-mindedness, and not necessarily personality types. This is possible because as we grow older, the purpose of companionships evolves. We begin prioritizing values over other social factors like distance and similarities. This can partly explain why social media is an ideal tool for mobilization of ideologies. One example I can think of is caste mobilization in India. Subaltern castes in India have used social media to create discourses, and connect with other members, and the world. In the recent past, protests broke out against twitter following allegations of systemic denial of the blue tick verification to handles belonging to the Dalit and other backward communities. The official handle of the Bhim Army Chief remained unverified at least till mid 2019, despite handles of lesser-known liberal leaders, with a few thousand followers, having the blue tick. This highlighted a peculiar phenomenon in the Indian media space. Historically, representation of subaltern castes in media has been insignificant. And therefore, they have always created alternate platforms for mobilization. And despite the casteism that social media is accused of, it ironically emerges as a comparatively freer and less discriminatory platform for such mobilization.
If I address this information in context of the pandemic, a number of discourses emerge. Now, I am almost certain that usage of social media spiked during the pandemic. And a number of statistical outcomes back this claim. However, unlike before, life directly or indirectly paralleled with discourses around CoViD-19. And this looked different for everyone. Your Instagram groups may have been flooded with end-of-the-world memes because of gen z’s ridiculously unique interpretation of nihilism. On WhatsApp, your maternal uncle may have forwarded a message about the virus being orchestrated for political gains. On Facebook, a beloved celebrity may have shared a video about how the pandemic has begun a revolution — because people have more time to spend with their families. The last example reminds me of a scene from the Korean film ‘Parasite.’ In the film, torrential rainstorm forces sewer water into a poor family’s (the Kim’s) semi-basement home. Ki-Taek (the family patriarch) grabs a framed medal from the wall, half filled with sewer water. As they realize the hopelessness of the situation, Ki Jung (his daughter) sits on a flimsily covered commode. Soaked in rainwater, she lights up a cigarette as the commode disgorges sewage into the washroom. The family is moved into a shelter with others who were displaced during the storm. The next morning Yeon Kyo, his employer, smilingly remarks at the blue sky and lack of pollution, thanks to the rain.
A meta-analysis conducted by Tsao et al. (2021) uncovered other interesting themes about social media usage during the pandemic. Unsurprisingly, twitter was a big player in this transaction:
Approximately 82% tweets from November 2019-March 2020 were informative in nature. Alongside updates on their official websites, government health agencies were equally active on social media handles. Giants like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram began embedding CoViD related information and surveys into their applications. However, what is more concerning is the overwhelming presence of infodemics (deliberate overabundance of unverified information or misinformation) during this time. Even at its inception, hashtags like #FilmYourHospital were trending. The challenge encouraged people to disobey social distancing norms to visit their local hospitals and capture empty beds. Thus, arguing that the virus was a media-hyped hoax. Conservatives and right-wing extremists were more likely to share such tweets. On an overall, WhatsApp emerged as the main channel for sharing fake news, followed by Instagram and Facebook. As late as August 2020, links containing fake news were shared 23.1% of the total shares of all reviewed articles. YouTube was not far behind, 37.14% of videos on CoVid-19 contained unverified or misleading information, with independent user-generated videos showing the highest proportion of such videos.
Former President of the United States Donald Trump continued to refer to corona virus as ‘the Chinese virus,’ despite significant backlash from Asian American community. This led to a glaring finding about Implicit Americanness Bias in the USA. Implicit Americanness Bias refers to the subconscious belief that European Americans are ‘more American’ than Asian Americans. This bias had steadily decreased from 2007–2020. However, starting from March 8, 2020 media entities also began using stigmatizing terms leading to a prominence of such bias, especially among conservative individuals. During this period, the number of negative tweets about Asians increased by 68.4%. India was not far behind. Communities from the northeast of India continued to face systemic marginalization in other parts of India. Following the pandemic, incidents of racism were on the rise. North-easterners were called ‘corona,’ socially avoided, racially abused, harassed, and discriminated against for their ‘Asian appearance.’ And such an appearance was automatically associated with China, where the virus was first detected. Gauging from archives of tweets, posts, and videos, India presented both positive and negative emotions regarding the aftermath of the pandemic. Interestingly, the proportion of ambivalence (contradictory emotional response) was the highest at 50%.
If I was scripting a movie, this is the point where I would conclude. Here, the virus would be managed with a medical boon (thanks to American aid, obviously). But the difference between a movie and ‘tomorrow’ is anti-climactic uncertainty. In 2020, India ranked in the top 3 countries with the highest CoViD cases. But by the end of 2020 and the beginning of 2021, the graph had begun its nosedive. Colleges and schools were circulating polls about readiness to attend offline classes, and warning caller-tunes were replaced by messages about getting vaccinated. Wedding invitations were getting rolled out, and festivals were getting planned ‘with precaution.’ But by late March 2021, an alarming trend emerged. CoViD cases started steeply rising again. This time, more people were getting infected. Even though the mortality rate remained the same, more infections meant more deaths. Day after day, we watched in horror as the graph steeply rose to its highest single-day death toll of 4529 in May 2021. State and Central ministry went on record to make claims about the ‘non-existence’ and management of the virus, and infallibility in the face of religious devotion. But soon, images and videos of mass-cremations and burials started going viral on social media. Gut-wrenching wails of relatives helplessly waiting for assistance outside hospitals, and stories of orphaned children rocked the very conscience of a nation that did not know where to seek help. Soon, people took to social media appealing for hospital availability, oxygen cylinders, plasma donors, and ambulance services. Multiple helpline pages were created on Instagram and most were updated on a daily basis and collected state-wise information of resources. Popular social media influencers began sharing such updates and resources. Twitter users started hashtags for oxygen cylinders, ICU beds, ambulances, and food services. Many organizations also came up with fundraisers.
I did not take science in high school. My knowledge of chemical substances is limited to knowing that sulfuric acid has a ‘rotten egg smell.’ But I learned some new words this year. I learned to spell Tocilizumab, Chloroquine, and Remdesivir. I watched people beg for them, and I watched others illegally sell them for lakhs. I learned that a high resolution computed tomography is recommended to check for damage to the lungs. I learned how an oxygen cylinder works, and what level of SpO2 is dangerously low. All of this, because someone appealed for help, and someone else decided to offer it. When I started verifying resources, I went in thinking that I could save everyone. You see, when you look beyond numbers, each person lost is a face, a smile, a family, and a last day spent ordinarily. And therefore, if you were mobilizing resources, your hope did not perish ‘lesser’ because 100 less people died on a particular day.
As of now, the 7-day average in India stands at 54,638 (23rd June 2021) in comparison to 3 lakh cases mid-May 2021. However, this number is still as large as higher peaks during the first wave in 2020. CoViD-19 helpline pages continue to exist on Instagram, but some only post updates a few times a week. Twitter hashtags such as #oxygen have been replaced by #INDvNZ, and appeals for drugs and emergency care have significantly reduced. Social media turned into a trailblazing crises helpline, and drearily disappeared into denial within a matter of weeks. Our brain is a curious organ. It is capable of sensing, perceiving, analyzing, and executing functions at a ridiculously fastened rate. But it is equally shy of anxiety. It furls up into a ball of withdrawal when the pressure is too much. Therefore, health anxiety and precautionary measures arrived in waves, crashed on the shore, and faded into exhaustion in the past two years. And all of this happened at the backdrop of the Government of India vehemently denying mismanagement. Multiple tweets criticizing the GOI for its failure to manage the virus were removed from Twitter, and pages were often shadow banned. Interestingly, Indian newspapers skirted around the controversy by calling it ‘removal 0f CoViD related tweets,’ but the Wall Street Journal published an article titled ‘India Accused of Censorship for Blocking Social Media Criticism amid CoVid Surge.’
As I sit with my ambivalence about the situation, I try to focus on the good. I see it as a glimmer of faith in times of disbelief; that thousands of people decided to step up with no explicit reciprocal reward. There was a common perception of undeniable distress, followed by the motivation to help people one has never met. And guilt followed the death of a stranger you tried to save but could not. Despite all, I cannot overcome the overwhelming angst of loss. I think about desensitization of death and the stigmatization of human touch. On most days, the thought pushes me into doom-scrolling, and on other days, I ask myself if the anxiety of irreversible loss will be ‘Instagram-med’?
