In this capacity, social media can facilitate humanitarian efforts as images and eyewitness accounts from conflict zones can be shared with large audiences in the real time, bypassing journalists and traditional institutions.

But this environment also creates a fertile ground for mis and disinformation because it sidesteps the processes of fact-checking and verification that respected media organisations adhere to.

This is where political micro-influencers – strategic communicators working on behalf of nation-states or non-state political entities – come into play. Often, they use influencing strategies from the worlds of marketing and commerce to shape political opinions, choices and behaviours.

Political micro-influencers can become powerful advocates for those who might be oppressed or silenced. For example, when the Russian military exploded the Kakhovka Dam in Ukraine in 2023, many prominent individuals shared information about this terrible act with their social media audiences. But there were others who used their following to muddy the truth by sowing discord and creating doubt in the veracity of eyewitness accounts.

While people discussed the Kakhovka Dam disaster from a variety of angles on social media (rising water levels, rage, attributing blame, commenting on diplomatic statements), it was the content relating to humanitarian efforts like animal rescue stories that generated a significantly higher volume of user interaction, and helped raise funds to evacuate and otherwise support those whose homes were flooded.

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These kinds of social media stories can also become a vehicle for collective mobilisation and expressions of hope, as we’ve also seen from content relating to Gaza.

The problem with this content and its creators, though, is that it’s extremely difficult to know what the motivations of the poster is. Some may be civilians sharing on-the-ground experiences, while others might be micro-influencers that post with nefarious motivations. Another issue is that while the crux of the content itself may be true, it is often framed to suit the specific narrative of the account holder, and verifying or assessing that while scrolling through posts is near impossible for most people.

Disinformation operations play a dark trick on those who believe that truth lies somewhere in the middle;the “middle” can become an ever-moving goalpost aimed to distract the audiences in fast-paced attention economies.

So, is having a nuanced conversation on complex topics such as war even possible in a polarised technologically mediated environment? The option to switch off or not engage in specific types of content is a privilege. Despite being thousands of kilometres away from the violence, over half of the Australian population has at least one foreign-born parent. That fact alone increases the odds that a friend, colleague, in-law or neighbour has personal link to a site of conflict or violence. For these Australians, witnessing wartime posts or sharing content with others is not a rhetorical exercise; amplifying voices of those on the ground to mobilise people thousands of kilometres away to engage in a humanitarian endeavour can make a tangible difference between the life and death of their loved ones.

As much as we might want our social media feeds to be uplifting and entertaining, now is not the time to look away. But where we look, and who we look to for information, is equally important.

Dr Olga Boichak is a lecturer in digital cultures at the University of Sydney.

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