Change.org: a vital forum for raising awareness. But is it enough?Flickr e wee

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m all for signing a petition online. I spend lots of time on 38Degrees, Change.org, adding my name to all kinds of causes, but I realised things might have reached a new level of odd when I found myself putting my name to a petition that said “To prevent an asteroid from hitting Earth and wiping out all life.” I think we can all agree that this is a good cause. But somehow, I don’t think an online petition will have the desired impact. Baboom-tish.

Two parallel theories exist when it comes to ‘clicktivism’. One suggests that the internet has opened new horizons for activism, as well as bringing a politicised dimension to online interactions, and this cannot be a bad thing. On the other hand, clicktivism is ultimately lazy, a waste of time; it discourages people from taking part in the real business of politics (getting off their arses and going on that demo), and, worse still, it has reduced political activism to the simple act of clicking ‘like’. Both of these have an element of truth to them, but both are also flawed ways of thinking about it. It is also important we distinguish clicktivism from the broader, and much more effective process of politics.

Clicktivism is a part of internet activism, but not the whole picture. Perhaps the most famous clicktivist campaign in recent memory was Kony 2012. The campaign attracted a huge swathe of media interest for its slick videos, high production value, and its earnest demand to bring the monstrous Joseph Kony to justice. It was effective in drawing the world’s eye to Kony. I certainly had never heard of him before, and the campaign did provoke me to read more about the horrors of the Lord’s Resistance Army. While there was limited success (the US Senate approved sending troops to support African Union soldiers fighting the LRA), interest died down. Kony still walks free today, and the campaign became rather like the political equivalent of Gangam Style: something we all liked, we all remember, but have moved on from in the rapid progress of the internet. Kony 2012 provoked much cynicism in its apparent ineffectiveness, but such cynicism shouldn’t necessarily be used to tar the broader swathe of internet activism.

The arguments in favour of internet activism are well known. The role of social media in the Arab Spring cannot be undermined – with official news media under the thumb of the Mubarak regime, social media became a tool both for organising the demonstrations that brought down the dictator, and for spreading the word to the outside world. It is worth remembering that while in the West, Facebook (for example) is a space for posting touched up photos of your lunch, in developing countries, and especially in countries where authoritarian regimes control traditional media, Facebook, Twitter, Youtube and so on represent a vital forum for resistance. We should be careful not to fall into a post-colonial mindset when we consider the effectiveness of social media in activism.

Additionally, the political power of the internet is clearly evidenced in the response to it from state apparatus: the Chinese Communist Party famously cracks down on bloggers and other online activists; at the time of writing, Kashmir has had its internet cut off, while police clash with separatist and radical groups. It is worth noting however, that these examples see internet activism in a very particular way – it is used to supplement and support the process of taking to the streets, marching, occupying – the traditional methods of resistance, if you like.

For all the good it does, however, clicktivism and internet activism can be hugely regressive. More often than not, online activist spaces can become an ideological echo chamber. A line is adopted by a group, and dissent results in expulsion, ostracism, and in many cases online abuse. Far too often, I have quit radical Facebook groups because an often mild criticism of a political decision has resulted in some poor kid being inundated with a toxic blend of threats, denouncements and the like. That is not to say that such behaviour is only confined to online activism. But the extent to which the online presence of activists can undermine radicalism through the shutting down of those who think differently is significant.

So what good does online activism do? This morning, I came across a video on my Facebook timeline. In it, a Tory staff member visibly punches a young woman in the stomach while she is protesting outside the Tory Party Conference in Manchester. I watched as the staffer did this in front of a line of police officers, who allowed him through and bluntly told the woman that no, she couldn’t report the incident as assault. Shocking though it was, it reminded me that we do live in a world of corrupt state power, a world where millionaires can get away with raping their children, where you can be complicit in the hacking of a dead girl’s phone and still be considered a journalist. Even the activist old guard needs to remember why we fight in the first place, as much as the new generation need to know what the problem is.

Raising awareness is good, but awareness must be followed with action. Action cannot come without awareness, and the internet does provide a vital forum for the sharing of information, alternative media and other potential sources of radicalisation. The fact of the matter is that internet activism on its own will do very little, in the same way that old school marches and glacial meetings will do very little on their own. While the internet is a powerful tool, it can be ignored. Even if everyone in the country tweeted David Cameron at the same time, demanding he reversed the bedroom tax, he can still, like any of us, click ignore on the notification. If we’re going to ever change the world, we need to engage in a multiplicity of resistance.