Throwing Back to Kony

Seeing as this column is focused on Twitter and its social media counterparts, I figured it would be fitting to incorporate at least one #tbt-style article, or “throwback Thursday” if you’re reading the print version (even though today is a Friday).

Invisible Children may not have accomplished the goal it set out to achieve, and its founder may have tarnished the reputation of both himself and his company in the process, but Kony 2012 unearthed the most potent marketing technique of the early 21st century.

For those of you either born within the past two years or somehow sheltered from this phenomenon, Kony 2012 was a YouTube video uploaded on March 5, 2012, aimed at heightening awareness of Ugandan warlord Joseph Kony’s severe human-rights abuses. Setting off chatter, the video challenged viewers to “make Joseph Kony famous” by sharing the film on their various social media platforms and putting up posters in their hometowns.

I could very easily discuss the merits of this campaign, the flaws of the message, and so on. Where did Invisible Children’s funding really go? Why are they blaming American politicians rather than Ugandan ones for this atrocity? What percentage of the video is actually based on factual evidence (not as much as you’d think)? But I prefer to not beat a dead horse. There are wonderfully written articles in the Washington Post and The Guardian already examining these topics in detail.

To me, the more compelling narrative behind this widely-publicized campaign is just how well it worked. Within four days, the video had garnered over 50 million views. After just a week, that number had risen to 75 million. So what did Invisible Children do differently from other humanitarian campaigns in order to win so much attention? World Vision posted a video with a similar message almost exactly two years prior to “Kony 2012”’s release, but that stagnated at a mere 2,464 views.

To some, the answer might be obvious. The video editing was unreal. The music connected with its intended audience. The interviews with Ugandans were perfectly placed, striking a balance with viewers between familiarity and novelty. Kony 2012 felt like something you’d watch in a movie theater with friends rather than alone in your room on your phone (like I did). This method—using entertainment value to deliver news is common to our times.

Above all else, however, Kony 2012 appealed to viewers’ sense of emotion rather than their sense of logic. Here, my high school English teacher would like me to include references to pathos and logos. By including footage of the founder’s five-year-old son, or his relationship with one Ugandan boy, viewers began to connect with the video in a way they otherwise would not have.

For me, Kony 2012’s chief allure was its ability to instantly empower anyone who viewed the documentary. We all have those really cool, hip friends who share cool, hip articles and get 15 to 20 likes, but not too many because that would be mainstream. Kony 2012 provided each and every one of us the opportunity to be that person. If you shared this video, everyone who scrolled through your Facebook or Twitter feeds would know that you were someone who was invested in the welfare of our planet, someone who paid attention to movements more relevant than bringing mozzarella sticks back to the cafeteria.

And while in that instance it was effective in drawing people in and raising awareness, social media has proven to be limited in making actual, real-life change. After sharing Invisible Children’s video, many felt a sense of accomplishment, that their contribution to the effort had been made. That was easy. How many people actually showed up for the April 20 “Cover the Night” event (excluding my little brother)? An absurdly smaller number than those who shared the video.

In this country, the social media age has given rise to a generation of complacency, where taking a link from one website and putting it on another is a sufficient social contribution. It’s easy to retweet, revine, or use that third-party app Regram for Instagram. Actually going out and doing something is not only much more arduous, but we aren’t rewarded with the favorites and likes that we so desire.

Perhaps I’m being naive, and the goal of Invisible Children was just to raise awareness and create a buzz. But I don’t think so. Kony is still out there. Bullies still terrorize students, women still make 77 cents for every dollar a man earns, drunk drivers still exist and kill people every single day. All these ideals we love to get behind online are certainly worthwhile, but at least until now, we have demonstrated that acting on them isn’t.

Declan P. Garvey '17, a Crimson editorial writer, lives in Canaday Hall. His column appears on alternate Fridays.