Social Distancing in the Time of Social Media

As the number of COVID-19 cases rapidly swept across the country, health authorities first recommended, and then mandated, that we maintain social distance in order to help tackle the pandemic. What “social distancing” means, in practice, has differed across the country, and shifted a number of times over just two weeks: here in Alberta, we were first told to maintain a one-metre distance from others, then two; to limit groups to under 100, then to under fifty, and finally to under fifteen. Stay home and go online, we were told, intuiting that, for those of us with access to an internet connection, distancing ourselves offline didn’t necessarily mean disconnecting from one another entirely.

Just when we were seeing an increase in collective actions—rallies in support of public healthcare in the face of budget cuts, blockades and demonstrations by Indigenous land protectors, movements for divestment from fossil fuels at universities across the country, successful lobbying to ban so-called conversion therapy, and many more initiatives in support of gender and sexual equality, Black justice, Indigenous rights, and climate change action—we’ve been told to avoid one another as a way to ensure our own health and safety. You’d think that this would be driving us apart, but it’s not, because simultaneously we’re reaching out and connecting in ways we hadn’t before. At the precise moment when COVID-19 is bringing the cracks in the system clearly into view, we’re sharing information unlike before. The inequitable reality of our labour force is surfacing, as employees who had been struggling with inadequate wages, part-time, and gig labour are revealed to be part of the front line workforce that ultimately keeps us all safe. As radical policies gaining traction online over the past two years are now primed to be tested as working models, we’re learning more about the system we’ve been born into and how it could be different: waiting around for employment insurance benefits after you were laid off? A Universal Basic Income could have helped alleviate that. Are the rents that had been rapidly rising now impossible to afford because of COVID-19? Get on board with a rent strike. The solutions to our unequal and uncaring neoliberal system felt out of reach a couple of weeks ago—now, they’re being debated on prime-time news.

We’re quick to adapt to the push online, but as art galleries and organizations scramble to digitize their programming, what happens to the critiques around the greater impacts of the internet? How are the discussions about data collection, surveillance, and the commodification of “public” space—so prevalent a few weeks ago—being taken up now? What does it mean that a large percentage of civilization is now turning to online networks all day long? Online companies have already had to adjust: Netflix, Amazon, and YouTube, for example, reduced their streaming rates because of COVID-19. What questions are being asked when workshops are encouraged to move onto Zoom—a platform known for its vulnerability to hacking, and whose privacy policies give the company license to record and track data with less transparency than we demand from other applications? Are we considering the repercussions for privacy and access when programming takes place on Facebook Live; or when a gallery plans a virtual tour of an exhibition via Google Arts & Culture or Chrome? Where do all of those concerns about the inherent problematics of the internet end up?

What happened to the conversation about the 300 million tons of carbon dioxide generated in order to keep the internet running? Calculations of the immense environmental toll of simple internet functions like search engine use were already staggering before we migrated our work, school, shopping, and social lives into the digital sphere—what are they now? Even before COVID-19, the carbon footprint of the internet and the systems supporting it was about the same as that of the global airline industry (expected to double over the next five years). What if, after COVID-19 passes, we realize that all of our social distancing has actually made the climate crisis worse? What does this realization mean in a time when we’re sharing posts about how clean Earth is going be when all the humans #juststayhome? It’s a fairy tale we’re telling ourselves in order to cope, but the consequences of ignoring it might not be easy to reconcile with once the crisis is over. More than ever before, while we’re increasing our reliance on social media, we need conversations about lessening the carbon burden generated by the internet of things. We need to keep asking ourselves, especially if this continues longer than we expect it to (not that any of us know quite what to expect): where might all of this end up?

Still, our turn to the online at this particular moment is shifting the status quo, and it’s useful to keep up the momentum. In some ways we’re still struggling to find a single voice that rings in unison online, but there are indications that it is starting to happen.

We’re seeing the repercussions of the persistent cuts to healthcare that many provinces have experienced over the years, and when faced with the choice—along with online public pressure—we’re choosing doctors, nurses, cleaning staff, and our national healthcare system over the corporations that have been screwing us over for decades.

COVID-19 is helping us to clarify the things that we care about most, and about what really matters, and the balance of power is shifting. Take the group of Edmonton nurses who refused to work without proper safety gear, and who could blame them when they’re asked to risk their lives for us now, while knowing that many will be laid off once this is over? The slowly unravelling death trap of neoliberalism has always been a threat—has always demanded decisive action—but COVID-19’s grip over us is much more immediate. It truly has most of us shook. We realize now that the work that matters is being done by workers, and we really only want to hear from those who offer tangible solutions—those who can help to take care of us going into the future.

In some ways, the internet is behaving like the great equalizer it promised in its early days. It’s important to be wary of this promise. The very online systems helping us to rally together and fight back against austerity are themselves owned and operated by corporations—and right now, while we’re relying on them even more than before, those corporations are primed to make a mint. But this virus has shown us that during this moment, our collective voice is worth a lot. In fact, it’s worth everything to them, too. Over recent years, we’ve pushed and pulled and tested the system and companies now recognize that how we feel about them matters. We’ve shown them the power that we hold when we collectively call them out on their shit. Now, in the time of global pandemic, they’re terrified that we might turn on them entirely, because they know that their economic dreams can’t be realized without us. They know that, really, we’re the ones who hold all the power, and when we’re connected, that power is beyond their ability to control. They’ll try, but there are too many of us tuning in right now, that’s one major difference between now and before.

Social media, with all its faults, is helping to make us stronger at the precise moment there might be a chance to remake the world in a way that is better than before. By forcing us indoors, COVID-19 has helped provide some much needed clarity, and we’re already seeing the impacts it could have: like the return of Airbnb rentals to overly stretched real-estate markets; the passing of the NDP’s national pharmacare motion; and the establishment of affordable internet access for low-income families. For now, social media is providing the space for us to imagine how things might finally begin to shift. But the window might not be available for long, and governments in power are using the same moment to chip away at public services while bailing out companies that directly contribute to the climate crisis. Now is the time to rally around the urgently needed solutions for lessening the network’s impact on our environment, for recognizing the limitations of relying on the internet as a tool for progressive change, and for building something new.