Isolation Newsletter # 13: The Instagram Social Justice Paradox
We know that Instagram is an avenue for social justice, but its profit motives keep it from being a place of pure, uncensored sharing.
TW: Mentions of police violence toward Black Americans
At this point it’s not a new thought to lament that “social media is bad for our mental health.” Some resist this argument, primarily because apps like Instagram, for example, have created flourishing creative careers, connected fellow artists and creatives, offered mental health support and—most recently—been a conduit for numerous social justice efforts. If people get so many positives out of social media, how can it really be bad for the collective mental health?
The answer is, understandably, mixed. But behind this discussion is a very significant framework of social media: the algorithm.
If your body has suddenly tensed, if you find yourself wanting to fight me or write a lengthy screed in response to what I’ve just written, I ask that you please take a pause and hear me out. I’m not here to take a dump on anything you’ve built on social media, nor to convert minds to an anti-social media cause. I’m here because I want to talk about the grey area we currently exist in, and why it deserves a critical glance. For the sake of simplicity, I’m going to focus on Instagram, since it is the app where I have the most experience in observation.
Instagram—like many online platforms—uses a secretive algorithm to determine which posts are seen by specific users. When the company rolled out this feature in 2015, it was met with a collective groan. Gone were the innocent days of seeing friend’s photos in a real-time stream. Now it was in the hands of the algorithm, which existed, we were told, to better serve the needs of the user. This was, and remains, tech speak for: to sell you products.
Instagram exists to be profitable. It does not exist to serve every person’s creative needs, personal preferences, or to be a free-flow of information without censorship. Information is chosen for you by the app’s algorithm, and this is where, at this current junction in time, I see a kind of convergence of anger arising on the platform.
We live in an age where climate change is ravaging parts of the planet, displacing millions. Last year we saw one of the largest wealth transfers to the billionaire class in history. COVID 19 continues to spread and take the lives of hundreds of thousands not only in the US, but across the globe. Anti-asian hate crimes are on the rise through the country. The West Coast is in a megadrought. Sea levels are rising. Forests are burning. Microplastics are creating rising infertility. There are mass shootings almost daily in America to the point they barely make headlines. And American police are a militarized wing of the US government that continue to kill Black folk without accountability or justice. All of these topics exist, every day, on Instagram.
And in between posts and stories about the present state of the world, you see posts about weddings, career achievements, dog rescues, celebrity gossip, dance videos and personal monologues. And in between those posts and stories you see ads for products Instagram believes you might like, based very clearly on key words it filters from your posts, stories and DM conversations (I recently took part in an open conversation about the Buddhist meditation on death and have received multiple ads for clothing companies that are—ironically and unironically—death-themed). The messages of “Grief” and then “Buy!” existing in the same plane are understandably jarring.
The paradox of this medium is right in front of us, and is understandably maddening: we cannot speak online to every issue all at once. We go to a platform like Instagram to nurture connections, particularly in a year of tremendous isolation, but if we expect it to be a place where equity of thought is honored, we discover our own naïveté almost immediately. Of course certain people are not speaking to the same issues as us—their algorithm is different from ours and Instagram has been isolating them into a feedback loop for years. User’s carefully curated digitalscape is catered entirely to a formula for them, by Instagram, to sell them new shit. If users avoid the complicated reality we live in, Instagram’s algorithm will help insulate them further. If users engage it, they’ll receive more—but only to a point that doesn’t disrupt the status quo.
This is the paradox of wishing for Instagram to be the place of social change. So long as its driving motivation is profit within the imperialist capitalist white supremacist patriarchal system, it will never be a pure place for expression or social justice. We have to keep this in our thoughts, should we participate in this medium or use its avenues for our expression. We have to recognize that the anger or frustration we direct at others for not saying enough or not doing enough about a certain topic on social media is, frankly, missing the mark. It is impossible to speak on every issue equally, because every issue is not given equal distribution on the platform. Instagram is not a platform for 100% free speech.
The human brain can only process so much information at once, and we are only recently recognizing the divide between human cognition speed and the speed of tech development. Instagram is only a decade old. This is still a brand new way to process information for the human brain, within a medium that continues to develop newer delivery methods at a frantic speed.
Does this mean social justice efforts should stop on Instagram? Absolutely not. Does this mean individual efforts to organize and push for systemic change should stop? Absolutely not. But we have to understand what medium we are dealing with here, especially when it comes to social justice efforts that criticize the State. I’ve seen numerous accounts I follow that speak about racial inequality, disaster capitalism, conspirituality and police violence, among others, be censored or “shadowbanned” for speaking about issues that—at their core—are critical of the apparatus that supports Instagram. These responses by Instagram demonstrate the flaws of using a profit-based medium as the primary means of communication. Capitalism will not give audience to voices that call for its dismantling. Capitalism will now allow an audience that criticizes its inherent racism, its voracious destruction of the environment at the expense of indigenous and minority communities.
But to sequester oneself within the confines of Instagram’s less controversial regions to avoid the news, urgent community needs or systemic inequalities of the moment is a form of privilege. To demonize those that use it is also privileged —and harmful. Many people need this platform to nurture social connections during a year of freakishly intense isolation. Many need it as a lifeline for work within an economy that has only grown more aggressive in its darwinian “survival of the fittest” ideologies. Many need it to know where to pick up free food this week, because their work pays sub-human wages. Many need it to simply log on and see other humans do human things, mundane tasks, existing. Many need it to feel recognized beyond the confines of their apartment walls, after over a year of hermetic isolation.
In my own life, I’ve taken the approach of constant observation of my habits, in the same way meditation takes practice to observe ones thoughts. If the platform is making me anxious, I ask myself: where do I feel this in my body? If it is making me depressed, what content is causing this reaction? I’ve taken days or weeks off, all with various benefits. But the most effective strategy is adjusting my expectations. Instagram is one place to communicate. It is a tool. One of many. I find the mental health struggle comes from using it—or seeing it—as the sole source of connection to humans, which, well, can never be better than in person, baby! Easier said than done in a global pandemic.
Watching the Derek Chauvin guilty verdict this week, I paid attention to the responses on Instagram in the hours after the news spread:
Some showed anger and grief, others a sense of celebration that “justice was served.”
Someone posted about their home remodel.
Lebron James posted about the Raiders completely tone deaf tweet, then deleted it.
Numerous calls for abolition. Infographics about abolition.
Someone riding a horse.
A pet parrot speaking Spanish.
An ad for CBD oil
Ma’Khia Bryant was murdered by police in Ohio.
Someone opened a record store
It’s hard to find mental organization to process such a confluence of events in the same space, all seen within a matter of minutes. It’s hard to find solace for grief or to know where to put it in this space. It feels like grief is ignored. Perhaps it does not fully belong there, in the digital space. Instagram not the place to give over the entire self and expect the nurturing that loved ones and community can provide. Knowing this, one can retrieve their power from this space, however swiftly or gradually, and place that energy into the communities that provide reciprocity without profit.
Even as I write, I’m aware that I likely have missed some points, not covered every possible angle. But that is the point of sharing our voices—so we can interact and learn from one another. Collaboration and organizing might begin on Instagram, but it absolutely must continue on in the physical plane. How else will we grow without discourse? How else will be expand and connect deeper to one another without thoughts different than ours? That’s where the change happens.
And now some delights for the week . . .
WATCH
I chanced upon BJ Miller’s TED Talk on Death only a few nights ago, and cried tears of recognition for 20 minutes straight. I recommend you do it too.
LISTEN
There is one genre of music that never fails to bring serotonin: Hawaiian music. I’m a particular fan of pedal-steel heavy Waikiki tunes, which bring to mind images of breezes, warm skin and evenings spent drinking tropical juices and taking nude dips under moonlight. Jerry Byrd’s On The Shores of Waikiki helps take you there.
READ
Mmmmmkay! For any of you Jeopardy Heads out there, the campaign to get Levar Burton on as a guest host for Jeopardy (which is essentially a tryout for the sacred hosting gig) got the producers attention. A sign of some righteousness from Sky Daddy this week. If you’re dying to learn more about the insider world of high-stakes trivia, then check out this Ringer article inside the world of the Jeopardy guest hosts.
CALM
I discovered the Artist’s Grief Deck this week, an interactive online interface designed to be one tool of many in the process of expressing and healing through grief. Take your time with it. Explore. Save it in your tabs. See what helps.
OUTRO
Mixtapes are my Love Language. Recently I’ve been listening to a lot of orchestral and movie scores because there are zero words and they make space for my thoughts to recalibrate. Sometimes a good one hour mix hits the spot because it works like a personal timer. I like this one for when I’m deep in doubt or worry, and I need to let my thoughts pass through into clarity. Perhaps it might bring you some calm too.
Hold fast,
Phil
Ma’Khia Bryant was murdered by police in Ohio. —— care to revisit that statement?