Slacktivism, a dangerous pastime

OMG Joseph Kony is such an awful man! All those poor little children, they need my help… There’s only one thing a middle class college student like me can do! Hit this “Like” button!

Has the world changed? Has Joseph Kony been brought to justice? Does anyone care about that any more? Don’t get me wrong, people absolutely should care. There’s a whole lotta injustice in the world today, and apathy isn’t going to stop it. But since there’s nothing on this paper that can be clicked to “make a difference,” apathy will surely be prevalent. I’d much rather have apathy than its stinky counterpart: Slacktivism.

Slacktivism is that warm feeling that arises when a picture of an especially mangled child/woman/man appears on Facebook and a click of the mouse lets you know you’ve donated money to help that poor soul’s life. After which one can go straight into seeing that Amy got engaged and that it’s raining in Wisconsin.

But it doesn’t really help, does it? Whose money is that, anyway? I don’t know about you, but my bank account stays very far away from Mark Zuckerbeast.

Fact is, it’s dangerous. That little sense of self satisfaction is cheating whatever movement is being stood for by robbing the real potential the slacktivist holds. For example: boobs. Breast cancer awareness is sky high with pink everything being sold from ribbons to t-shirts. Every bracelet that says “boobies” gives a percentage of its sale to the eradication of breast cancer. I’ve bought a ribbon before; it’s still on my backpack. Am I going to buy another one? Nope. Because I’ve already contributed, y’see.

That’s the real problem. Slacktivism robs the potential to do more by allowing the Slacktivist to believe that they’ve done their part. This kind of activity creates a cloud of naivete comparable to the smog over Salt Lake City.

Think of it this way: do I know math after I put my name at the top of my homework? No, I don’t know math. And it’s Joseph Kony’s fault.

None of this would be nearly as bad to stomach if the offenders didn’t broadcast their achievements like Don King when someone accidentally swings a camera his way. As soon as even the slightest hint of “change” has been registered, the buck is passed to the next uninformed soul who is just trying to get to the Caf after a four hour lab. In order to show the world that they care, offenders “like” pictures of only the most scalded children. The act of letting everyone know that you’re supportive and then forgetting about it (Kony is still alive, you know) is worse than admitting there are things outside of your control.

I’m not honestly going to say I’m making a difference either. This kind of activity is harmful because it demeans the people who actually do the work to change the world for the better. Like the guy who’s been making Feed My Starving Children meal packets for five years. I give that guy free reign to throw my ice cream on the ground because comparatively, he’s Mother Teresa herself (himself?).

My point is, don’t wave your arms and pretend that you’re making a difference. I would much rather admit to myself that even if my Facebook likes did anything, it would take a huge amount of time and effort (hey, when you’re at Gustavus, who’s got that?) to turn the tide of a tyrant in another continent.

Helping others in need is something that must happen, but we can’t kid ourselves. Zuckerbeast isn’t that kind of coordinator.