In the late 2000s, an editor kicked me out of his office because he didn’t find the drawings I submitted for publication “funny”. I told him I wasn’t trying to be “funny”, that the situation wasn’t funny. What had angered him was the uncomfortable comment I made in my sketches about the growing frustration of Arab youth and the simmering tensions in the region. The editor did not consider such opinions worthy of publication.
The incident only reinforced my already existing belief that my political cartoons had no future in mainstream media. Plagued by narrow editorial approaches and corporate control, television networks and newspapers were no place for rebellious art.
Around this time, social media was emerging as an alternative space for artists and publishers. This gave us access to diverse, unfiltered perspectives and a range of opinions on any given issue.
With a greater focus on the web, I joined efforts to challenge narratives and foster open discussions about this new virtual square, which only gained momentum after the explosive start of Spring Arab. For the next decade, I produced a daily cartoon on topics ranging from street protests in Arab countries and the declining dictatorship of Omar al-Bashir in Sudan, to Arab solidarity with Colin Kaepernick , the American football player who took a knee during the national election. anthem.
The openness and mobilizing power of social media platforms was exciting for artists like me, but alas did not last. Eventually, tech greed began to erode the city’s virtual square. In their quest for wealth in the form of user data, they created algorithms designed to keep people addicted to their phones and eager to produce and deliver ever more data.
This has turned social media platforms into echo chambers where users are only served content 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 opinions, dismiss discussions, and “unfollow” any perspective that might challenge them.
These algorithms have effectively destroyed the very reason I make cartoons: to have an open conversation about a certain topic. They—and their creators, the tech bros—became the new gatekeepers who limited exposure to my art, just as conservative publishers in traditional media had done more than a decade earlier.
Art, fueled by creativity and the need for freedom of expression, shares the same driving force as innovation: the need to challenge the status quo. Over time, I could no longer stand the reactions to my drawings – only likes and praise and no discussion, engagement or criticism. As I began to feel stifled on social media, I looked for a way to escape the echo chamber.
In October, when Israel launched its genocidal war against Gaza, I took to the drawing board to express 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 make my work known to as many people as possible, including those who might not immediately agree with it. So, in my quest to connect with those who were unlikely to “like” my work, I adopted some novel strategies: namely, I became a “troll.”
On directly propagandists paid by the government.
And so, I entered a parallel world, where users posted fervently about Israelis fighting for “justice” and “survival,” about being “shadowbanned” due to Israeli prejudice. social media, about Europe and the United States being “invaded by Muslim immigrants”. who lead marches in “support of terrorism”, that the mainstream media is “obsessed with diversity” and political correctness and does not show the “true picture”.
It was intriguing to witness what felt like a glitch in the matrix to me and to them, being so accustomed to the comfort of spaces that confirm our prejudices.
I considered these interventions my new art form since art, by definition, can take various forms and is intended to disrupt comfort. That was precisely my goal.
In my comments, I questioned the status quo and addressed “sensitive” issues, such as the Palestinian right of return, illegal Jewish settlements, the right to resist occupation, accusations of anti-Semitism, the massacre of children in Gaza, etc.
The comment threads that followed were long, often filled with replies claiming that I didn’t understand the “complexities” and that I was painting the situation in black and white. Several times I have been directly accused of anti-Semitism.
A particularly notable moment occurred when a popular right-wing account on Instagram that I interacted with shared a screenshot of our conversation in an attempt to incite against me.
The consequence of this was an increase in Israeli followers and direct messages, with some calling me “momo” – which is apparently a derogatory word used to refer to Muslims – and accusing me of practicing “taqiyya” – a Islamic term for the commission of a sinful act. (especially dissimulation) for a virtuous purpose.
The latter has become a favorite reference of many Islamophobic narratives when they seek to assert that every Muslim is a “bad Muslim,” even when they say the “right things.” These direct messages clearly came from accounts intended to insult and intimidate me, not to engage in good faith with my arguments or opinions; these were, I suppose, the real trolls.
I also received an email from an organization that had awarded me a scholarship, informing me that they had been contacted several times – in what appeared to be a coordinated campaign – to ask me to withdraw from the list of scholarship holders because of my “anti-Semitic behavior”. “. Since the spurious complaints presented no evidence to support their claims, they were ignored.
This attempt to escape the echo chamber of social media took a mental toll on me. But it was worth it. Many meaningful encounters resulted.
I received positive messages, appreciating my attempt at dialogue or requesting more information on the history and current issues of Israel-Palestine. Some of my new followers were engaging in serious conversations in the comments, others were watching my stories in silence. I witnessed a brief return of the open discussion that I had missed and desired so much.
In the midst of the sometimes exhausting exchanges with Israeli users, one question often came up: “What are you doing here?” Why don’t you stick to pro-Palestinian spaces? to which I would respond: “Because I want to talk to you.” »
These encounters broadened not only my understanding but also that – I believe – of at least a few other people. It was worth highlighting the transformative potential of common spaces, both in real life and in the online world. 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 any motivation driven by the profit.
My unwavering belief in the power of art to challenge and provoke persists. This experience of replacing cartooning with “trolling” as an artistic intervention reflects my belief that we need to dismantle 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 continues. 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 thrive, deepening divisions. The imperative now is to strive to establish a common calendar that maps out a common future. The urgency of a space for universal dialogue extends well beyond the Israeli-Palestinian question; it is a global necessity.
The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the editorial position of Tel Aviv Tribune.
