Is it okay to post happy things in sad times?
And, do I have to post a political statement to be a good person? Thinking about moral claims-making and social media.
Yesterday, I took a walk to a part of Hampstead Heath I’d never explored before. I have a chronic desire to see new things that arises when things become too familiar. It was time to venture to a further annex of the park to get my fix. After a few days of abundant rain (“absolutely chucking it down,” as they say here), but as I walked, the skies were pale and dry. The once dusty and cracked desire paths that cut across the fields were now sodden. My boots made delightful squelching sounds as I wove between shallow puddles and navigated slippery, rotting leaves.
Once I’d arrived at the new-to-me area, I found a hollow where several paths converged. It seemed like the kind of place I’d have loved to spend hours as a kid, enjoying the sense of enclosure and privacy. I watched a squirrel scamper up the trunk of a horse chestnut, loosen its quarry, then acrobatically wend its way to another tree. Unseen birds trilled and a dog ran joyfully through the path. Then, the violent, ripping sound of a landing plane cut through the air before giving way to relative silence. The cozy area was surrounded by burnished ferns tangled up with brambles, but also dotted with pieces of trash. I made a mental note to bring a bag with me next time, then continued to take in the beauty of this little, pretty space. Again, a plane’s descent—like a line of pure loud—cut into the quiet.
This small, lived metaphor reminded me of something I wrote last year: Life is a trampoline between joy and grief. I wrote it just after Russia invaded Ukraine in response to the sense of disconnection between extreme horror and the small joys of my life as I prepared to move back to Berlin. It feels relevant anew after the past few weeks of terrible violence in Israel and Gaza, but of course is applicable to other national and global events.
Lately, I have been thinking a lot about moral claims-making on social media, and how not posting is being framed by many as silence, a silence that is extrapolated beyond social media. Because it does not go without saying and the inciting incident for my writing is the war between Israel and Gaza, I want to state clearly now that I stand against antisemitism and anti-Muslim violence. Many people in my life are Jewish or Muslim and I do not want what I am writing to be seen as an indictment of speaking out against violence, evil, hatred, bias, and prejudice. It’s also not that I think ONLY political journalists or politicians or activists should post, but I do not think posting on social media is a moral imperative.
In “I Don’t Have to Post About My Outrage. Neither Do You,”1 an Opinion piece for The New York Times, journalist Elizabeth Spiers captured my thoughts perfectly. She writes:
Knee-jerk social media posts are not what bother me most, though. Instead, it’s the idea that not posting is wrong somehow — that everyone needs to speak, all the time. It discourages shutting up and listening and letting the voices that matter the most be heard over the din. It implies it’s not OK to have any uncertainty about what’s going on or any kind of moral analysis that does not lend itself to presentation in a social media post. It does not leave time or space for people to process traumatic events in the sanctuary of their own minds or to gather more information before pronouncing a judgment. It pressures people who don’t have an opinion yet or are working out what they think to manufacture one and present it to a jury of total strangers on the internet who will render an instant verdict on its propriety. (emphasis mine)
In 2020, during the Black Lives Matter protests in response to the murder of George Floyd, millions of people posted black squares on their Instagram accounts in a form of clicktivism to show support for the Black Lives Matter movement. In an article for the journal Social Media + Society, Mariah L. Wellman argues that many influencers used this performative allyship “strategically to build and maintain credibility with followers.”
I am not implying that every person who posted a black square was engaging in shallow clicktivism, however, I do think it raises questions like “what can posting enact in the real world?” as well as “what are the beliefs we hold about the imperative to post moral claims?”
I have learned from the black square, as well as posting too quickly about personal things before processing my thoughts.
This brings me to my main question: Is it okay to post happy things in sad times? Do you need to make a disclaimer for your post of pumpkin picking with your kids or attending the wedding of two beloved friends when others are posting about the devastating world event that is top of mind?
It’s the “top of mind” and the “world event” that make me pause. For me, it’s imporant to consider how social media functions even when there is not a fresh war or a mass social movement. I have been inside my own sad times and logged onto social media to see a friend posting their engagement. Equally, I have posted my own happy times while aware that someone would probably see it from inside their own sad moment. There is also the fact that when one war breaks out, another one continues. And another truth, which is that there are extreme tragedies where we live that do not get the same air time and attention.
What I want to query is the idea that a certain kind of participation in public discourse is an obligation, that without it, you are a bad person. Something journalist and author Wesley Lowery wrote stuck with me:
“…I certainly have felt both the desire to say something and the paralysis of knowing that it’s impossible to convey the complexity of my thoughts and the context and history (and, certainly, blind spots) from which they are drawn…For the most part, it’s felt best to let colleagues who cover these issues directly and who are on the ground provide facts and context…”
What I am interested in understanding in is how we came to this place where disembodied moral claims-making (like “it is wrong not to post”) have become normalized. What kind of cultural assumptions and frameworks are in place for this to play out the way it has?
A few thoughts come to mind: In late-stage neoliberal capitalism, people look to brands and influencers (people-brand hybrids) for political statements (Spiers references statements made by LVMH and L’Oréal). At the same time, the hyperindividualization of the post-postmodern age results in fragmented clicktivism rather than collective, embodied action. The disembodied nature of these digital spaces leads people to make extreme, unnuanced statements. Many of these implicate others, implying that silence on social media is silence in one’s life.
Right now, I have more questions than answers. I would love to hear what you think, either in the comments below, or if you’d prefer to share privately, you can respond to this email.
P.S. In case you’d like to read what I wrote last year in response to Russia invading Ukraine:
So well said!
Thank you for expressing what I have not found the words to say/write.