I sit at my desk, waiting around two minutes; a pathetic attempt to concentrate. I grab my
phone from where I’d hidden it. The second my thumb clicks ‘on’, vivid colour pierces my
vision, so I dial down the brightness. After switching from Instagram to Substack, I grow
restless, putting on my headphones too. Something makes me pause. Before swapping
back to another platform, a post appears at the top of my feed, captioned: ‘Iranian protests’. I
have not seen this elsewhere.
Out of curiosity, I type up ‘Iranian protests’. The first search suggestion appears. It is an
article by Amnesty International, reporting that Iranian authorities had carried out ‘massacres
of protesters’ in January 2026. Following this brutality, the Iranian authorities completely cut
off internet access, using a blackout to ‘conceal their crimes’. During this time, I recall
another story being pushed online, not of Iran, but the celebrity Beckhams.
Switching tabs to Google Trends, I find that on 20th January, Google searches for ‘Brooklyn
Beckham’ globally spiked, yet searches for ‘protests in Iran’ quickly declined throughout mid
January. When attention is concentrated on social media, which is inaccessible without the
internet, suppressing information is simpler. A bright phone outshines a blackout. A month
later, sometime during February, I am unable to sleep. I flip through X posts, waiting for my
eyes to grow heavy. Although I delete X quite often, I end up redownloading it, mostly
because the posts are less censored. A video of the President of the U.S. appears; a
speech.
On 28th February, Israel and the U.S. launched ‘extensive, coordinated strikes’ across Iran.
As this war unfolds, I watch commenters start to feel around for the ‘appropriate’ stance.
Should they celebrate an attack on the regime, or condemn the suffering caused by these
strikes? This reaction is strange, because the conflict is not straightforward; Iran does not
deserve to be flattened into a slogan. It isn’t just commenters, though. Even President Trump
uses one-dimensional narratives. He seems to create them, however, rather than conform to
them. During an interview with CBS news, Trump said, “I think the war is very complete,
pretty much”, later followed by “We’ve already won in many ways, but we haven’t won
enough”. Very confident, but ambiguous. This language reminds me of a poster Pritt-sticked
onto a crumbling wall. At first, it works, but the foundation is weak. Even the slightest probing
makes it fall.
On April 7th, X is jammed with memes about nuclear weapons. Immediately searching
‘news’, I find a BBC article. It explains that Trump has given Tehran until 8PM (BST) to
reopen the Strait of Hormuz, or, in his own words, be bombed “back to the Stone Ages”. His
rhetoric is incomplete; there is no mention of casualties, just a ‘win or lose’ story. By
describing the annihilation of a country so brazenly, Trump normalises aggression by leaving
out details of suffering. He censors context with reduction.
The next morning, I see that a two-week ceasefire has been agreed. If the Iran war ends or
the ceasefire is prolonged, I suspect attention will drift from Iran, despite the regime’s
continuity. Iranian citizens cannot scroll away from reality so flippantly. I open X again,
searching for something palatable, but I see the same line recurring: ‘Nothing ever happens.’
This was in response to the ceasefire. Maybe just a trend. Perhaps a preference bred by
desensitisation; violence over boredom. A phrase validated simply by its widespread
acceptance. I swipe past it, now a reflex. Another post appears: ‘Russian profits’. I still see
the odd article about the Ukraine war, but its grasp on the news loosens each day. Between
March 2022 and 2026, Google searches for ‘Ukraine war’ dropped massively, by about 80%.
Most of this decline occurred straight after the war started.
There have also been geopolitical impacts on Ukraine, with the most recent being linked to
Iran. When the Iran war began in March, Crude Oil prices rose, because the Strait of
Hormuz was disrupted. This change in oil price potentially subsidised Russian military
operations in Ukraine, because it increased profits. Although these profits may fluctuate
depending on the Iran war, Russia has still benefitted. Reading through a couple more
articles, I find that as of early 2026, Russia occupied around 20% of Ukraine. There have
been approximately 2 million casualties between both countries; millions of lives, trimmed to
fit a headline. The initial panic surrounding Ukraine has collapsed into complacency. I rarely
see Ukrainian flags now. If it can’t be worn like a badge, validated, used as a veil of identity
to hide beneath, people have less reason to wear it.
I often hear about social media protecting individual liberty, the right to be platformed, but
this seems selective. Social media platforms people, yes, but only to keep them thoroughly
busy shouting. Perhaps its positives are just too interwoven with its negatives. An
inescapable net of horror, novelty, outrage and delight. And, in some cases, symbols do
create visibility. They can mobilise rather than minimise.
For example, #MeToo. The #MeToo movement did exactly as would be expected: it
platformed and validated women, expanding their capacity to highlight injustice. The
movement clicked online, as it involved resonance, novelty and outrage. It validated victims,
creating a global sense of recognition for injustices against women. Unfortunately, even
#MeToo has not maintained its peak virality. However, it held the spotlight for much longer
than Ukraine—if you can’t label a problem plainly, it is harder to mobilise against. #MeToo is
more digestible, both visibly and conceptually, than a four-year-long war.
I see people conform through their online language. Contrasting the positive impact of
#MeToo, our regurgitating of others’ opinions can actually become harmful. It encourages
people to constrict their opinions and, in some cases, compartmentalise political violence
using a label. It happened after Charlie Kirk’s assassination. The day following the
assassination, I remember reading a TikTok comment section, where the main response
was: “He was a fascist though”. Under one video, I recall seeing a commenter being asked
to define ‘fascist’, yet they refused to answer. This slogan was seen online and accepted as
fact, probably since it was popular. There was no attempt to understand this word. It is like
Trump’s manipulation of language. Simple, unclarified, and reductive.
When these compressed stories take over social media, we are left vulnerable, because we
become more susceptible to emotional messaging. Social media platforms profit from this,
so it is standard; anecdotal clips or phrasing are used to elicit reactions. Users are therefore
more likely to comment, wanting to be ‘heard’. It makes commenters more defensive. Their
feeds are full of personal grievances, tuned to be personalised and provocative. If a topic is
personal, beliefs can enmesh with identity, so any ideological critique will be seen as
threatening.
It allows our norms to stay persistent; too strong to resist, yet too undefined to articulate. It
makes me feel more guilt for being offensive than for being wrong. The same guilt suffocates
my urge to speak truthfully, especially online, where everything is tracked. A self-imposed
constraint. Our aversion to scrutiny creating these orthodoxies also prevents us from
breaking them; validation incentivises us to push further, but curiosity does not reliably
attract validation. So, it should come as no surprise that instead of being curious, we focus
mainly on the perception of truth. Perception sits atop a digital hierarchy, letting reality collect
dust beneath.
I think of my unfinished essays, the ideas I cannot quite communicate. Online, without
external approval, they are lost. It is now late April. I am too tired to charge my phone, but I
stop scrolling. It is now at 1% battery. A second later, the app shuts. The brightness dies. I
am left with a glossy black screen.
References:
‘What happened at the protests in Iran?’, Amnesty International, 26 January 2026, https://www.amnesty.org/en/latest/campaigns/2026/01/what-happened-at-the-protests-in-iran/
‘Iran protests’, Google Trends, https://trends.google.com/explore?q=protests%2520in%2520Iran&date=2026-01-10%20202
6-01-30&geo=GB
‘Brooklyn Beckham’, Google Trends, https://trends.google.com/explore?q=Brooklyn%2520Beckham&date=2026-01-10%202026-
01-30&geo=GB
‘US/Israel-Iran conflict’, Commons Library, 31 March 2026, https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/research-briefings/cbp-10521/
‘How have Donald Trump’s war aims changed and has he achieved any of them?’, The Guardian, 2 April 2026,https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/apr/02/how-have-trump-iran-war-aims-changed
‘Trump threatens to take Iran out in ‘one night’ if no deal before deadline’, BBC News, 6 April 2026, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/cqj8ep9w1pno
‘What is Iran’s 10-point ceasefire plan and will the US agree to it?’, The Guardian, 8 April 2026, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/apr/08/iran-10-point-plan-ceasefire-donald-trump-us
‘Four years into its full-scale war in Ukraine, Russia is feeling the effects’, BBC News, 23 February 2026, https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/c4gj20xzw39o
‘Ukraine war’, Google Trends, https://trends.google.com/explore?q=Ukraine%2520war&date=2022-03-01%202026-04-07&
geo=GB
‘The Iran conflict is a boon for Russia’s ‘war machine’. And it’s not just about oil’, CNN News,
27 March 2026, https://edition.cnn.com/2026/03/27/business/iran-war-russia-ukraine-impact-intl
‘Mapping Russian attacks and territorial gains across Ukraine’, Aljazeera, 24 February 2026,
https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2026/2/24/mapping-russian-attacks-and-territorial-gains-acr
oss-ukraine
‘Ukraine war briefing: Nearly 2 million military casualties to date, study finds, with Russia
bearing brunt of losses’, The Guardian, 28 January 2026, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2026/jan/28/ukraine-war-briefing-nearly-2-million-military-casualties-to-date-study
‘What is the ‘Me Too’ movement’, Global Fund for Women, https://www.globalfundforwomen.org/movements/me-too/
‘Charlie Kirk dies at age 31’, The Independent, 11 September 2025, https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/us-politics/charlie-kirk-dead-utah-shooti
ng-killed-b2824230.html