Activism in the digital age: Tweet, tweet and retweet

First, they came for the activists and I didn’t speak out because I was not an activist. Then they came for the bloggers and I did not speak out because I was not an activist.

Then they came for the journalists and I did not speak out because I was not a journalist. The they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.

I posted this corruption of pastor Martin Niemöller’s provocative poem on my social media pages a few weeks ago.

At the time of writing the poem, Niemöller was alarmed by the cowardice of German intellectuals as the Nazis rose to power, and I was indirectly attacking the apparent indifference of the Kenyan middle class as their civil liberties steadily faded away.

“By the time Jubilee is done with us,” mused @Koy_Njung’e on Twitter, “we’ll all be activists of some sort.”

Her tweet, editorialising on a dramatic week of activity and activism, took me back to that criticism of the blasé attitude of the majority of Kenyans. The first few weeks of 2015 have proven my appraisal needlessly harsh and partly inaccurate. Here is how:

WE DON’T TEAR-GAS CHILDREN: How could policemen tear-gas primary school children whose only offense was trying to fight for their playground?

The Monday morning outrage burned quickly across the Internet, the lack of many clear pictures not dampening its viral effect.

The cops stationed at Lang’ata Road Primary quickly became symbols of an intolerant administration while the children stood in for the long-suffering, downtrodden citizens of a once great republic.

“Even Moi never used teargas on schoolchildren” became a popular refrain in the overflowing condemnation.

“Moi gave schoolchildren milk, Kibaki gave them free education, guess what Uhuru gave them: teargas!” surmised one commentator.

Even in the emerging political narrative of a binary classification — you’re either with the government or against it — staunch supporters were scandalised.

What would have passed as another generic protest by the peerless Boniface Mwangi went on a history-making tangent and a global dimension.

The image of a man carrying a distraught child reminded me of a tour through Soweto in Johannesburg a few years ago.

The similarities were not lost on the “keyboard ninjas” and the South African image of a young Hector Pieterson, carried lifeless after being shot by police, was contrasted with that playground shot.

After that, Occupy Playground was impossible to ignore, much as the government would have wanted to. Police bosses were forced to suspend the officer who led the operation and an investigation commenced.

Interior cabinet secretary Joseph Nkaissery personally apologised to the children, his Lands counterpart oversaw the restoration of the playground, and President Kenyatta demanded answers.

ENTER THE ACCIDENTAL ACTIVISTS: While many would never follow Mwangi to the streets, they can declare support remotely; on social media and blogs.

Now, more than ever, the Internet ensures that anyone offended or unhappy about anything can share the infringement with a virtual audience online. If enough people share that sentiment, they share it as well and it soon becomes a viral uproar.

Author David Kirkpatrick calls it “The Facebook Effect” in his book of the same name, but it goes beyond just one social network.

Online traction may not always lead to offline action, but sometimes that’s all that is needed. Not every cause deserves pigs outside Parliament a la Mwangi, or chaining oneself to the fence outside police headquarters like Okoiti Omtatah.

When blogger Abraham Mutai was arrested before going offline in Mombasa, the #FreeMutai campaign all but secured his release.

Support from other bloggers, journalists, lawyers and concerned citizens rallied resources to find and defend him, leading to his eventual freedom in about half a day. That is activism.

Though most don’t even realise it, the Internet has spawned an army of accidental activists using their influence, connections and convictions for change.

The traditional model of activism is dead. In its place is a more connected, conscious online form of protes.

“Young Kenyans are politically more engaged today than ever before because of social media. It will only get better,” tweeted @DocPallo. “Can’t ignore this wave.”

In 2011, TIME magazine named ‘The Protester’ the Person of the Year after months of demonstrations around the world. If they did it again today, that protester wouldn’t be on the streets, but on a feed or timeline somewhere, chanelling their outrage about whatever it is they’re unhappy about.

Nkaissery’s predecessor Joseph ole Lenku lost his job largely due to sustained ridicule online. No one public official has ever been the butt of so many jokes as the former hotelier was.

When elected leaders, opinion shapers and everyday people alike all agreed he was inept and out of his depth at the ministry, President Kenyatta couldn’t keep him any more.

The Irish philosopher Edmund Burke said: “All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.” And that was before the Internet!

Madowo is the Technology Editor, NTV ([email protected])

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How do you save a public marriage?

Gospel singer Gloria Muliro is uncoupling with her husband, music producer Eric Omba. Sarika Patel is uncoupling with her ‘Bukusu darling’, Timothy Khamala.

What do these two stories have in common? They are both fairytale public relationships that the whole nation was invested in.

When such go south, do we have a say in what happens next since they allowed us in at the start?

Even worse, Pastor Omba appears to have decided to attempt to salvage their union on Facebook with desperate, attention-seeking updates aimed at his wife.

Did she change her phone number and he can’t reach her? “No matter what situation we are going through, the name of the Lord shall be praised and worshipped,” he posted after news of their break-up broke.

“Someone comment with Amen.” To her credit, Gloria has chosen to keep quiet and remain dignified. For Sarika and Timothy, none had spoken by the time of this writing.

Either way, it can’t be easy trying to have a normal relationship when everybody and their grandmother feels like they know you and they have an invested stake in your continued staying together.

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Calling on Pastor Victor Kanyari

Salvation and Healing Ministry pastor and self-styled prophet Victor Kanyari won’t pick my calls anymore. I wonder why. OK, I don’t wonder why.

He promised to come on #theTrend sometime last year, but an hour to the show he cancelled through a now infamous text message to my producer, Kevin Gitau.

As he was on air with the imitable Jeff Koinange, we may have gotten carried away and may have used the fire extinguisher to the camera while calling out his name.

As the forgiving man of God he must be, I was sure it would all be forgotten by the next week.

Apparently it doesn’t always work that way and he won’t come on even though he promised several times to do so. Our viewers are still asking for him, so I guess this is the only way to get a message to the good pastor: Please, come on my show and get your side of the story out. There will be no fire extinguishers.