#INYB15: To Be Dragged In English And French
La Casala Le Beaux: Thoughts on Redemption & Cancellation
Estimated reading time: 8 mins
Hello, I am Ibankhan. if you would like to read more of my newsletters, subscribe now:
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We all know this story. Have seen it a few times. The way we wield power over the lives of others. How, when a young lady uses a bottle of Fearless and teases a street beggar with it, we bring her to her knees on Twitter street.
A sharp story. A quick shift. Just a few seconds of video ruins all that a person holds dear. Once again, we are reminded, that the internet never forgets. That where you find a reason to laugh gathers metadata that may end you. That this internet is a cemetery where nothing dies.
We know. We are aware. We inch close to it with each tweet, each rt, and likes. All our smart replies and long threads are ticking bombs. They are like strings of micro-information congregating into a macro-boom. We would be here when it happens. We would contribute to each other's boom. We will whisper their dilapidation. We will share their fall. We will laugh about it. But our laughter will be another piece in the next story of another's boom. Data can be tricky. For years it may hold your hands, for a few seconds it crushes you the way hands crumble dry leaves.
What we did, as a collective, is protect the most vulnerable among us. A person who teases the beggars on the street isn't the best of us. This is a universal fact. A fact that mask-renouncing humans would agree to. This certainly is a service to mankind. To guard the dignity of others is a noble cause.
It's mirroring of what's acceptable against what is not. In the end, we announced that your car windows wouldn't protect you from scrutiny if you mess up. Especially if you have seeming large followership on a social media platform.
Consequences come quickly. You lose your followers. You lose your platform. You lose your endorsements. If you have stories of you being vulnerable, the empathy felt for you become a stick in the fire that burns you. If the story involves your mum, she gets dragged too. While you're trying to catch a break, the porosity of social media steers your sin to the francophone-verse of Twitter. And you're reprimanded, attacked, lambasted in a language you don't understand.
This can happen within a day. You can send a thoughtless tweet before boarding a flight and you lose your job before you land. You can be picked to host a show, someone digs up your past tweets, and you lose the gig. It's a quick brash and bland mini-enactment of judgement day. Everyone on your timeline attacking you forcing you to curl up, issue a statement, apologize, or exit. The global ire hunts you down. keypads playing gods. A swift backlash reminiscent of being burnt at the stake. A crucifixion that says "we don't forgive here."
You've been cancelled.
Although, cancelling is not new. It has had different names in the course of history. The core element is public shame.
Stocks, or public restraints, were used in medieval Europe up through Colonial America, where Puritans used them to punish criminals. Tarring and feathering was also a form of public corporal punishment used to keep people in line. African tribes ostracized erring members of the tribe. Sometimes, banished them. During the second world war, French women who were considered traitors had their heads shaved.
However, what we call cancelling might be algorithms amplification.
Digital marketers understand what is called ad-targeting. A way to amplify a message or advertisement to a certain set of people on a social media platform. It's a Facebook money-maker and that guy that says "If you're from Nigeria or Ghana, I know you're about to watch a video right now..." on YouTube also loves it.
But microtargeting, as digital technology has been considered dangerous. It was used by Cambridge Analytica to influence voting in different countries. Even used by foreign governments in international espionage. What is great about micro-targeting is that it can target 20 gamblers for a gambling ad of the over 1billion on a social media platform. What's evil about it is that it is relentless and brutal.
With data about you, a social media platform can feed what outrages you. Negative emotions are the most potent emotions on social media. It's required to keep you engaged. Engagement is how they make money. So, they milk it.
When a person tweets their outrage, it would fall on their deaf ears. But when a person manages to gather enough engagement on their outrage, the algorithms pick it up quickly and shares it repeatedly to everyone who might be interested in the outrage.
Upon the announcement of Kevin Hart as the 2019 Academy Awards host, Twitter users plumbed a series of homophobic tweets from 2009 to 2011. Few were aware, at first.
But as soon as Hart released an unapologetic Instagram video, the outrage was inflamed.
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The algorithms anticipate based on preferences and detailed information about users. With Hart being unapologetic, Twitter users likely to be upset by homophobic tweets had Harts homophobic tweets splattered across their timeline.
With anger surging, people calling for his head, Hart dropped the Oscar gig.
What seems like we cancelling people might be emotional manipulation by social media platforms. We are constantly in anger about things, about people. We are targeted for anger contribution. These algorithms understand us, then use us.
We are always gunning for blood. Even when people apologize, the algorithms keep us angered. When the anger begins to die down for English speakers, the algorithms sift through and places it in the eyes of french speakers. There's no hiding space. You must burn for your sins, girl.
To hold accountable is to free society of its shafts. At least, that is what it feels like in our social media culture. With the line of privacy and public life blurred, we are susceptible to being nude. Our privates opened for the whole world to see. What it took the TV days to share, a retweet amplifies over a thousand times.
As we sieve through the sins and misgivings of others, we generate a swift wave of anger that doesn't offer certain aftermath. The backlash we give is a desert storm: it covers the life of the receiver in dust. And they disappear like empires flickered by the rage of sand.
We do not forgive.
We do not offer redemption.
And if they pop up to say something, we "this you?" them.
In what world do we Bonju le mercy? In what world do we say, "make amends, apologize, be better?"
What's next after a person learns? Our attacks do not offer an answer. After the receiver has faced consequences, do they get second chances?
The reality of our existence demands kindness. That we protect even the erring one amongst us. In Islam, we protect the privacy of our brothers. Offer them second chances. In Christianity, there are avenues for redemption. As humans, we owe ourselves the duty of care. Because to err is human, to offer redemption is to not be an algorithm.
It appears that we forget that the internet continues to pervade the tiniest bits of our existence. Our little errors are in the eyes of a watching god. The algorithms will pick a day.
On Desk
Since the last Newsletter, I have been kinda away from social media. I haven't written much. But I did hit a total of 100/100 in rejections from job applications, pitches, and submissions.
I have a story that has now been rejected 8 times still with me. Last month, The Newstateman's International editor rejected my pitch within 20 mins. The New York Times aired me in October. Job applications keep saying unfortunately and I'm asking if I'm using the fake Irish Spring.
But what do we say to the god of rejections? We meuveee.
Good news: Jalada Africa will be releasing two poems early December. A new essay is coming out in another American magazine. Can't give details until I sign the contract. It's already time to hang boot for this year.
I started a Medium publication where I will be writing about second love: Content Marketing. I called it Contimize (Content + Optimize).
Rather than give you book recommendations, I will be recommending Newsletters I have enjoyed:
1. Check Out A/Hameed Obileye's Newsletters. He has very great pieces on work, life, and career. Read here.
2. You can also read Not Boring. It's a Newsletter on business and the strategy behind the decisions companies make. Read here.
Musa’s Gate
I don’t know what to say but there’s a lot to be grateful for after watching this video:
I think that’s all for now. Thank you for being patient with me.
What are your thoughts on cancel culture?
Do you think people should be given second chances?
Answer in the comment section. I want to hear your thoughts.
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Well done Ibankhan.
I have noted many times that the cancel culture is not where we want to be as a society even when we want to hold others accountable. What this continually does it to create an avenue that stifles meaningful dissent as the fear of backlash would prevent people from saying their thoughts. And what happens when we don't have meaningful conversations? As with the influencer, she released a video on BBC explaining what her actions meant and how it was misconstrued. But I also think that she must have learnt that taking cameras everywhere might not be the right thing to do. Sadly, the cancel culture does not offer redemption as you have rightly posited.
On rejections , I must admit that it is tough to keep at it even when it seems one has pressed all of the right buttons. But simply appreciating the little wins like you have , might actually be soothing. I hope you get that gig you have been pushing for.
I was dumbfounded when I saw the video of the lady and her relationship with water ðŸ˜. I am forced to reflect on the many blessings that we take for granted as humans and how we focus on the many things we don't have. There is a lot to be grateful for and I hope that a treatment for her situation is found as soon as possible.
Thank you for writing Ibankhan.
Jaws dropped. I am stunned with this revelation. I have seen a documentary about a month ago: The Social Dilemma. So I understand the algorithms & how they feed on us.
This newsletter is terrifying, Ibankhan. Thank you for bringing it to our consciousness.