Activist
Infographics
The competing interests of self and the greater good on Instagram
Activism has never been more convenient than it is now. I can turn on my phone, open Instagram, and a brief scroll reveals a whole slew of cute, eye-catching infographics on a number of salient social-political movements. I tap two buttons and I’ve published an argument or opinion, neatly packaged with decorative font, hip graphic design, and sometimes even floral patterns inside a square frame. No longer is there a need to read nuanced reporting in order to construct one’s own perspective. The Instagram infographic gives me the essential argument in a few sentences or less, perhaps (though not necessarily) substantiated by some statistic on the next slide of the post which, though convincing on its face, often paints a reductive picture of the issue at hand. The infographic does all the work; it makes the argument for me and is a proxy for my opinion. As far as my followers are concerned, it is my whole opinion, and I hardly had to put in any effort to make it known. Infographics, therefore, make participation in social media discourse incredibly easy, though arguably at the expense of some degree of logical and personal integrity. Perhaps the greatest (and weirdest) advantage, if we can call it that, is that declaring one’s stance on the issues via infographic reposts can actually maintain and advance one’s meticulously curated timeline aesthetics. “Aesthetics” can be thought of as the visual repertoire established through one’s posts: the types of photos they post, the colors used most frequently, the kind of clothes they wear in their pictures, the filters they use, etc. Consider an Instagram account famous for making these types of infographics: @soyouwanttotalkabout, a page dedicated to “dissecting progressive politics and social issues in graphic slideshow form!”, according to the account’s biography. The account’s posts read like PowerPoint presentations with fun typeface and pastel
THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT
BY Justin Scheer ILLUSTRATION Floria Tsui DESIGN Miya Lohmeier
virtue signaling associated with posting superficial activist material, aestheticized or not, it is increasingly evident that social media—particularly Instagram—has transformed activism, to some extent, into a conceited exercise, placing greater focus on one’s self. Indeed, this seems like an inevitable outcome of social media, whose very design is predicated on a shift of focus to the individual, to the personalization of digital content, and to making the “media” about you. Thus, we arrive at the fundamental tension embedded in social media activism: the self versus the greater good. Social media platforms, especially Instagram, were designed with an emphasis on the former. Consequently, social media activism—by disrupting the stream of self-interested content which Instagram no doubt encourages with apparently selfless, utilitarian posts—is subversive almost by definition. The infographic itself is subtle evidence of this subversion. Instagram’s image-based format does not lend itself easily to text-based content, so simply by featuring text inside the square frame, the infographic works around—not with—the Instagram platform. Nonetheless, thanks to heavily aestheticized graphic design, infographics still manage to preserve and advance one’s image in an apparent reconciliation of self-focus and a selfless concern for social justice. It is precisely when this reconciliation falls short— when an activist post fails to hide the user’s selfish interest in maintaining their image and aesthetic online—that self-centeredness is glaringly obvious and worthy of public censure. As it turns out, infographics walk this line well; they effectively disguise the narcissism laden in their activist content but still manage to advance—albeit subliminally—one’s self interest in image and aesthetic. Perhaps this is why we rarely see infographics or the people who post them being ‘cancelled’. It is important to recognize that the collective shift of focus inward toward self—though in some sense undermining the fundamental sentiment beneath social justice activism—is an unavoidable reality of many of our lives as they become increasingly dependent on and intertwined with social media, especially in the absence of in-person socialization. So, while the commentary above may read as a cynical critique, infographics may be better understood as a response to, not a manifestation of, narcissism. As long as concern with self-image prevails—as long as we use social media, and Instagram in particular—aestheticized infographics respond to the call for selfless action in a manner compatible with Instagram users’ underlying vanity. Though this Indy writer may admittedly be overestimating such vanity, few would object to the observation that social media has made its users more conceited to some degree. Moreover, despite the apparent conflict between self-interest and concern for a greater cause, the two are not entirely mutually exclusive: we can care about more than one thing at a time. I don’t doubt that many of those who repost infographics, notwithstanding any personal motivation regarding image, do so with a genuine concern for an issue. I wish to conclude with one final, cautious note: a potential consequence of Instagram users’ proclivity for infographics is that, in order for an opinion or argument to gain traction in the Instagram landscape, it had better be delivered with the right graphic design. In this sense, the marketplace of ideas has become less democratic because the design-and-illustration-savvy user, or individuals who utilize the work of these designers, have an inherent advantage; no idea or argument on Instagram can rise to any prominence on its own merit alone. Thus, some amount of control of online political discourse has been ceded to the graphic designers and those with the resources to pay for good graphic design. This presents the age-old problem of activist dialogue being skewed toward ideas favored by those with greater resources and capital. A less visually-oriented social media platform, then, may be better suited for substantive dialogue on the pressing issues of our time. In a more text-based forum of exchange, perhaps the infographic phenomenon and its strange implications would disappear.
color schemes, congruent with what I can best describe as a soft vintage aesthetic. For example, the @soyouwanttotalkabout’s post on prison labor utilizes a 70’s psychedelic style font on a gentle beige background. These posts tackle incredibly heavy and salient issues, which makes their choice of graphic design feel mildly inappropriate. I do not necessarily take issue with this— after all, appealing design may, through some subconscious effect on users, produce greater proliferation of the post and the information it contains, even if it appears to trivialize the issue at hand. Another good example is the account @thinkingabolition, a prison and police abolition advocacy page. They employ different brands of graphic design in their posts, ranging from cute, floral design – like that in the post titled “Abolition is Creative,” which features an illustration of a police car overgrown with flowers – to modern, minimalist design – like in the post titled “Is Police Abolition Possible?” Some infographic posts employ the tropes of juvenile artistic style, like the scribbles and messy handwriting in @uniquelyaligned’s slider post on supporting emerging creators. Others use collages to impart a DIY appearance for those so inclined to that aesthetic, like @morecolormedia’s slider post titled “Decolonize Your Mind.” Many of the infographics reposted and many of those that go ‘viral’ often feature pastel color palettes, minimalist/modernist graphics, or other heavily stylized designs. Thus, the self-conscious Instagram user highly concerned with appearance—which I would guess is most of us— is able to engage in digital activism without compromising or disrupting their profile’s aesthetic, simply by finding a post with the right design. In this sense, we see that activism has become, in part, a narcissistic practice when taken to social media. Considering similar critiques of the JUSTIN SCHEER B’22.5 might follow you back.
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