Global Courant
In the late 2000s, an editor kicked me out of his office because he didn’t think the cartoons I submitted for publication were “funny.” I told him I wasn’t trying to be “funny”, the situation wasn’t funny. What had angered him was the uncomfortable commentary I had made in my sketches about the growing frustration of the Arab youth and the rising tensions in the region. The editor did not think such opinions merited publication.
The incident only reinforced my pre-existing belief that there was no future for my political cartoons in traditional media. Plagued by narrow editorial approaches and corporate control, TV channels and newspapers were no place for rebellious art.
Around that time, social media was emerging as an alternative space for artists and publishers. It gave us access to diverse, unfiltered perspectives and a spectrum of opinions on a given topic.
By shifting my focus online, I joined the effort to challenge narratives and promote open discussions in this new virtual town square, which only expanded after the explosive onset of the Arab Spring. For the next ten years, I made a cartoon every day on topics ranging from the street protests in Arab countries and the eroding dictatorship of Omar al-Bashir in Sudan, to Arab solidarity with Colin Kaepernick, the American football player who stood out during the national elections. one knee went down. hymn.
The openness and mobilization power of social media platforms were exciting for artists like me, but unfortunately they didn’t last long. Eventually, the tech bros’ greed began to erode the virtual town square. In their pursuit of wealth in the form of user data, they created algorithms designed to keep people hooked on their phones and willing to produce and provide more and more data.
This transformed social media platforms into echo chambers where users are only shown content that they would ‘like’ or that reinforces their existing beliefs, giving them the comforting feeling that everyone agrees with them. As a result, users tend to stick to their positions, dismiss discussions, and “unfollow” any perspective that might question them.
These algorithms essentially destroyed the reason I make cartoons: to have an open conversation about a given topic. They—and their creators, the tech bros—became the new gatekeepers limiting exposure to my art, just as conservative editors of traditional media had done more than a decade earlier.
Art, fueled by creativity and the urge for free expression, shares the same driving force as innovation: the need to challenge the status quo. Over time, I could no longer tolerate the comments on my cartoons – only likes and praise and no discussion, engagement or criticism. When I started feeling suffocated on social media, I looked for a way to escape the echo chamber.
In October, when Israel launched its genocidal war against Gaza, I went to my drawing board to express my solidarity with the Palestinian people. On social media, even with the suppression of pro-Palestinian voices, I still felt like I was preaching to the choir.
I wanted to bring my work to the attention of as many people as possible, even those who did not immediately agree with it. So in my quest to connect with people who aren’t likely to “like” my work, I adopted some out-of-the-box strategies: Namely, I became a “troll.”
On government-paid propagandists.
And so I entered a parallel world, where users fervently posted about Israelis fighting for “justice” and “survival,” about “shadow bans” due to social media bias, about Europe and the US being “invaded by Muslim immigrants.” leading marches in “support of terror,” about mainstream media being “obsessed with diversity” and political correctness and not showing the “real picture.”
It was intriguing to witness what felt to me and them like a glitch in the matrix because we were so used to the comfort of spaces that confirm our biases.
I considered these interventions as my new form of artwork, because art by definition can take different forms and is intended to disrupt the comfortable. That was exactly my goal.
In my comments I questioned the status quo and poked around in “sensitive” issues, such as the Palestinian right of return, illegal Jewish settlements, the right to resist the occupation, accusations of anti-Semitism, the slaughter of children in Gaza, etc.
The subsequent comment threads were long and often filled with responses claiming that I didn’t understand the “complexities” and was painting the situation in black and white. I was often directly accused of anti-Semitism.
A particularly powerful moment occurred when a popular right-wing account on Instagram that I interacted with shared a screenshot of us conversation in an attempt to thwart me.
The aftermath was a wave of Israeli followers and direct messages, with some calling me a “momo” – which is apparently a derogatory word used for Muslim – and accusing me of practicing “taqiyya” – an Islamic term referring to committing a sinful act. (especially hypocrisy) for a virtuous purpose.
The latter has become a favorite reference for many Islamophobic narratives when they try to claim that every Muslim is a “bad Muslim,” even if they say the “right things.” These DMs clearly came from accounts that aimed to insult and intimidate me, and did not address my arguments or opinions in good faith; I think they were the real trolls.
I also received an email from an organization that had awarded me a fellowship, stating that they had been contacted multiple times – in what seemed like a coordinated campaign – with requests to drop me as a fellow because of my ‘ anti-Semitic behavior’. ”. The false complaints had not provided any evidence to support the claim, so they were ignored.
This attempt to break out of the social media echo chamber took a mental toll on me. But it was worth it. Many meaningful encounters resulted.
I received a number of positive messages, appreciating my attempt to get involved or ask for more information about the history and current issues of Israel-Palestine. Some of my new followers had serious conversations in the comments, others watched my stories in silence. I witnessed a brief comeback of the open discussion I sorely missed and longed for.
Amid the sometimes exhausting back-and-forth conversation with Israeli users, the question often came up: “What are you doing here? Why don’t you adhere to the pro-Palestinian positions?” to which I replied, “Because I want to talk to you.”
These encounters broadened not only my understanding, but also that of – I think – at least a few other people. It was worth highlighting the transformative potential of communal spaces both in real life and online. It was worth fighting the algorithm, breaking the echo chamber and bringing back the idea of a virtual town square – that democratic space, open to the exchange of ideas and free from profit-driven motives.
My unwavering belief in the power of art to challenge and provoke remains. This experiment in exchanging cartoons for ‘trolls’ as an artistic intervention reflects my belief that we need to break down barriers and openly engage with ‘the other side’.
It was an individual act of rebellion against the oppressive power of the algorithm. I have won a battle, but the war is still being waged. My art remains trapped within the confines of the social media echo chamber.
We cannot continue to exist in parallel timelines where competing and exclusionary narratives flourish and deepen divisions. It is now necessary to strive for a shared timeline that maps out a common future. The urgency of a universal space for dialogue extends far beyond the Israeli-Palestinian issue; it is a global necessity.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Al Jazeera.
