SuppliedEveryone has one of those “social justice” friends on Facebook. They’re the type of person who changed their profile picture to the French flag after the Paris bombings, they just checked in at Standing Rock (even though they aren’t actually there), and they were super stoked about Kony 2012 — at least until a week later when wasn’t cool anymore.
The internet has dubbed these people “slacktivists,” part of a millennial movement that has people donating likes instead of dollars, and a group of people so many love to hate. The term slacktivist is designed to degrade; assuming our generation’s social revolutions can be boiled down to 140 characters. Millennials may not be rushing the streets with pickets, or planning the overthrow of the government (although maybe we should), but that doesn’t make slacktivism useless as a tool for social change.
Critics of slacktivism preach that awareness-raising initiatives on social media platforms aren’t actually productive, and create no tangible change. That’s just not true. The ALS ice bucket challenge, for example, raised $115 million for a disease I hadn’t even heard of before it appeared on my newsfeed. That funding allowed researchers to discover one of the most common genetic contributors to ALS. Is it shameful I didn’t know what ALS was before the challenge? Maybe. But that doesn’t change the fact an internet movement opened my eyes to a disease impacting millions of people, and made actual progress towards treating that disease.
Even if slacktivism had no tangible impact on any specific issue, it has turned newsfeeds from a place to socialize into a place for genuine discussion. Now, when you scroll through cat videos, AJ+ will confront you with a story about police brutality. Your friends might still mostly share memes, but now they’re about Trump and the presidential election. Slacktivism has made giving a shit cool, and there’s never been a better time to “jump on the bandwagon.”
When Facebook users check in to Standing Rock, they may not be tangibly impacting the protests in North Dakota, but they stand in solidarity with those who are, and validate the cause being fought for. They tell indigenous people on the front lines that their struggle is important, their rights should be protected, and there are thousands of people who support them from thousands of miles away. It is far better to tweet #BlackLivesMatter than do absolutely nothing while unarmed black teenagers are killed by police. That hashtag may not, in and of itself, save a life, but it has started a dialogue that is crucial to changing both cultural attitudes and political policy.
There are issues that slacktivism can’t tackle, but those are issues traditional activism has struggled with too. The #BringBackOurGirls campaign didn’t save the Nigerian women who were kidnapped from being sold into slavery, the Occupy Wall Street movement hasn’t stopped big banks from exploiting the 99%, and Idle No More hasn’t stopped governments from exploiting Indigenous peoples. The problem isn’t that slacktivism isn’t changing anything, it’s that systemic problems can’t always be fought with megaphones and marches — those tools are no more likely to catalyze change than any hashtag. Addressing the inequalities which our structures are founded upon requires a paradigm shift, and one that brings everyone on board — from your grandma who always comments heart emoticons on your profile pictures, to your friend who loves to rant about how Rachel Notley is the harbinger of the apocalypse. How do we reach these people? By sharing, liking, and retweeting.
Slacktivism isn’t the end all be all of social progress — and certainly shouldn’t be viewed as such — but it is a crucial part of it. We live in a world rife with exploitation, and it is our responsibility to fight that exploitation with every tool we have. When the system is pegged against us, sometimes the only option we have is to tweet about it.
