Social Media Platforms, Activism, and the Perils of Individualism

When movements are built online instead of face-to-face, what do we lose?

By Sylvia Rani

Does the movement against police brutality owe its success to the new social media technologies of today, which allow for communication on a scale not possible before? Or is the success of the movement contingent upon the organizers who have been doing the work, both on and offline?

The role of social media platforms in activism has been a hot topic of discussion in recent years. The viral success of the #BlackLivesMatter campaign stirred public conversations about the potential for publicizing and organizing movements online, with eager journalists declaring social media as the “future of activism.” Meanwhile, black scholars (including Malcolm Gladwell in his New York Times piece, “Small Change: Why the Revolution Will Not Be Tweeted”) critiqued the mainstream media’s sensationalism around the topic, arguing that while the social web can be used to further a movement, armchair activism comes with its own set of pitfalls. Perhaps both narratives contain truths. Perhaps what we are seeing is a historical movement stretching and growing to fit a new media environment—and this change, filtered through a white lens, appears revolutionary.

The question remains, however: Do these new media technologies truly support social activism? Can they effect actual change and sustain robust movements, or do they serve different purposes? We can certainly give them some credit. Thanks to platforms like Twitter, the dominant white media is finally waking up to the reality of police brutality. Social media has forced black death at the hands of police onto the screens of millions of people who would have otherwise stuck to their E! News and fantasy football, and this has been a crucial factor in bringing racial consciousness to the masses. We must be able to name the problem before we can solve it, and this increased awareness is useful for putting police violence into context.

But what about organizing? What about creating the strong ties that hold a movement together even when the cameras are off? Social media appears to be very useful for creating large networks of weak ties and raising awareness of issues that have been ignored by the mainstream media for too long. People are mad and want to do something about it. But this may backfire in other important ways. When it comes to social movements, motivation without coordination can have mixed and unpredictable results.

Consider the case of Oluwatoyin Salau. Described as an emerging leader and vocal presence in the movement, Salau was active in the Tallahassee protests against police brutality in the wake of George Floyd’s murder. Days after appearing in videos at the Texas State Capitol speaking passionately in front of a group of protesters, she was kidnapped and murdered because she was unable to find a ride to the church where she had sought refuge to escape an abusive living situation. How does this happen? Salau was a victim of (among other things, of course) the perils of individualism—the very individualism that social media platforms nurture and protect. While her friends were home tweeting and sharing GoFundMes on their Instagram stories, Salau was alone on the streets of Tallahassee, relying on strangers for transportation. Ironically, the outrage that followed her death spread mainly online. But by the time people decided to care, it was too late. What Salau needed was for someone to be there for her. On top of being a black woman, one of the most historically overlooked and marginalized identities, Salau was 19 years old, home insecure, and vision impaired. She needed an organized group of people who were accountable to one another, people with strong ties who were invested in not only her message, but her personal safety as well. Instead, what she got was tribute tweets and postmortem think pieces. 

This is why some black scholars are wary of the idea that social media will tip the scales in favor of revolution and are hesitant to embrace these platforms as the catalysts of change that the white media presents them as being. Community organizers know that the real work takes place offline, in places with friction and struggle and eye contact. Social media has helped the movement in key ways, but it is not the movement. Organizers can leverage the power of social media to raise awareness, spread information, and document police wrongdoing on a public stage. But they cannot build the type of community that is central to sustaining coordinated efforts to make change. We will not tweet ourselves into justice.