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Why social media might do more harm than good for refugees

Social media has been a powerful tool in shedding light on what’s happening to the people of Ukraine, Afghanistan, and even Palestine. But is it the best way to help the ever-growing refugee crisis?

Seven years ago, the photo of three-year-old Alan Kurdi found on the shores of Bodrum, Turkey, sent shockwaves through social media. #KiyiyaVuranInsanlik (translated: humanity washed ashore) began trending on Twitter, with surges of tweets expressing solidarity with Syrian refugees.

The photo opened the world’s eyes to what was truly happening in the Middle East.

A study by Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that the daily donations to the Swedish Red Cross campaign for Syrian refugees were 55 times greater ($214,300) in the week after the photo than the week before ($3,850).

While the donations, heartfelt posts, and uproar mobilised empathy and concern, it didn’t last very long.

Oxfam highlighted that, one year after Kurdi’s death, the number of refugees and migrants who perished trying to reach another country increased by a fifth from 4664 deaths to 5700.

The tweets of support didn’t help to improve the plight of the people trying to seek refuge, showing the harsh reality of social media campaigns and virtual outcries; more work needs to be done.

Every tweet, every hashtag and every profile change amplifies the idea that users are playing an active part in helping a cause.

But in reality, it can be a form of performative allyship or “slacktivism” when activism is done to raise one’s social capital than devoting to the cause — the benefits of donating turns into a pat on the back for sharing a photo.

After the murder of George Floyd in 2020, millions of Instagram users posted black squares in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement using #BlackLivesMatter.

This seemed to be a sign of unity and inspiration, but many users felt that the black squares were just a way to boost following and maintain credibility.

Valuable information was being pushed down, and images of protesters were suppressed. Users also found it hard to find vital information about protests, supplies people needed, and links to non-profits collecting donations.

White allies were called out for their lack of knowledge of the movement and understanding of their role as well.

Although the intentions might have been clear, it seemed to have done more harm than good.

Social media might have been effective in helping Ukrainians rally support, but one can’t help but notice similar parallels between how social media is being used to treat the situation and what happened in 2020.

From profile changes and infographics to videos of burning buildings and children crying, while it indicates an understanding of the issue, what help does it give to the people going through it?

Not to mention the amount of misinformation circulating, making it inadvisable to repost anything without proper verification.

Sharing a hashtag isn’t enough, not without putting in the long-term work to directly impact the people affected. It should be followed up and taken one step further with active contributions.

The most visible and authentic activism comes when individuals band together and protest. There is a power in collective action that Twitter and Instagram cannot compete with.

And the most effective movements have used a mix of mainstream tactics like voting and lobbying with nonviolent methods like boycotting and rallies.

While there isn’t the perfect formula to make a successful movement, it’ll take more than a tap on your phone to help people in need.

Social media has been a valuable asset in spreading coverage, raising awareness, and pressuring policymakers to act in light of what’s happening worldwide.

But content on Twitter has an average lifespan of 18 minutes, and for Instagram, two days. Whereas petitioning or marching the streets can directly show governments that we need and want to help refugees and have a lasting impact.

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