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Tia Sacks

Gen Z or Gen laZy?

The dangers of a social-media-addicted generation witnessing the war in Gaza 

It was last week while sitting in class when I finally reached my breaking point. 

In a presentation on representations of race in media led by a fellow student, the student compared the Zong massacre—the mass over-boarding of 130 enslaved Africans by a British ship crew in 1781 in an attempt to collect insurance money—to “the genocide of Palestinians and how schools still won’t divest because they want more money.” The student then added that the “genocide” is connected to the subject of race because “we’re seeing the mass killing of a brown population.”   

I felt my face begin to contort (a gift passed down by my mother) and I let out an uncontrolled, exasperated sigh. Refocusing my eyes down to my laptop, I turned my attention to organizing my Pinterest boards (I’m convinced that looking at pictures of renovated kitchens can supplement anxiety medication). 

Although I, like most Jewish students, have been bombarded by this kind of sentiment almost everyday since October 7th of last year, this incident was especially chilling. And instead of immediately jumping to correct this student, I spent the rest of class silently unpacking why. 

After a reflective bus ride and walk home, I worked out the answer. This student’s comparison encapsulated everything I’ve been thinking and saying about the anti-Israel chorus in a remarkably concise manner: my generation’s anti-Israel movement is not inherently antisemitic, it’s just flat-out lazy. 

Let me break this down. 

Most young adults in my generation get their news from social media platforms like Instagram and TikTok. This isn’t a surprise. Those from older generations I’ve spoken with view this as an inevitable by-product of our digital society—a modern version of the newspaper and broadcast television. Except it’s entirely different. Failing to understand these differences is to misunderstand how the anti-Israel movement grows and festers. 

In traditional news consumption, you choose to subscribe to a publication based on its style, format, and political-leaning, but you have no control over what content is or isn’t published. Your front-page headlines are chosen by an editorial board. On social media platforms like TikTok, Instagram, and Facebook, you choose your own headlines. 

Algorithms track every post you like, comment on, and spend time viewing, then display similar content in a never-ending stream. In other words, they create deadlocked echo chambers where you’re only shown news that reinforced your own confirmation-bias. That’s how these platforms keep us hooked and why specific messages stick in our brain. And if you hear one message enough times, especially if it’s posted by several accounts, it becomes increasingly credible. In an advertising class I took in undergrad, the professor called this the “Halitosis effect.” Listerine successfully propagandized the pseudo-illness of bad breath, and people quickly bought in. 

So, if all young people see within their self-curated online bubbles is that Israel is committing genocide, it must be true, right? 

I get it. I don’t blame them. They just don’t know anything else because they aren’t seeing anything else. Young people often don’t have the time or motivation to consume anything beyond what’s being shown on their Instagram feeds. My generation is lazy, and our attention spans have been compromised by habitual social media use. If you can read about a social justice cause and like a picture of your best friend eating brunch within five seconds, it’s a time-effective win-win.  

Oversimplified narratives branded with colourful, aesthetically-pleasing fonts and graphics are eye-catching to the average scroller, and as a result, Instagram has become a primary source for learning about one of the most complex geopolitical conflicts in the world. 

It doesn’t matter how many times we explain the death toll in Gaza is quoted from the very organization that attempted the genocide of Israel, doesn’t differentiate between Hamas combatants and civilians, and has been debunked by the United Nations. If you see the number 41,000 and hear the word “genocide” enough times, it sticks. If you see enough videos taken by Hamas-authorized Al Jazeera reporters, that’s all you will see. Does Gaza even have freedom of the press? The answer isn’t a concern. 

It doesn’t matter how many times we explain that 70% of Israel is not white and framing Israel as racist towards brown people not only doesn’t make any sense, but also white-washes an incredibly diverse population. If the mold of white versus black and brown looks like it fits, it will be used, especially in this current age of Diversity, Equity and Inclusion teaching where any conflict can be simplified through race-based deductive reasoning. 

Finally, it doesn’t matter how many times we explain that Zionism is not defined as a white supremacist ideology bent on the genocide of Palestinians, but rather, the belief in a Jewish homeland that is tied to our ethno-religious lineage. If you see and hear “Zionism has got to go” or “Zionism is racism” like a broken record, you’ll start chanting it too. It doesn’t matter if you tell them this is antisemitic because they will simply parrot the line: “anti-Zionism is not antisemitism” because that’s how they’ve been told to defend themselves. They may even tell you that they “love Jews and Shabbat dinners,” or will tokenize their anti-Zionist Jewish friend to sound convincing. 

So, the reason why this student confidently stood at the front of the classroom and delivered this lie with conviction, isn’t because they were antisemitic—but because their online echo chamber created a repetition-induced illusion of truth. The act of comparing the war in Gaza to the Zong massacre indicated a perceived reality so far removed from what is actually happening that it can only be adjusted through strenuous effort to learn the full story beyond social media. 

I truly believe this student wasn’t speaking from a place of malice. They genuinely thought they had their facts straight. 

If I had spoken out against this student’s presentation as it happened, where would I even begin? There’s too much to unpack. No matter what I would say, the corrections wouldn’t compute, and it would likely turn into a lengthy, unproductive agreement that entrenched us deeper into our opposing sides. 

What older generations don’t understand is that when you argue with members of the anti-Israel movement, you’re arguing with a confirmation-bias-driven echo chamber. The echo chamber always wins until a conscious decision is made to break free. 

I think I did the right thing by keeping my mouth shut. Not just because once I start talking I can’t stop, but because the chance of this student’s eyes being opened—especially within a classroom—is miniscule. Taking the student aside after class and raising these concerns in a thoughtful, gentle manner may have also been a good approach. I just would’ve needed to block out an hour or two. 

But you have to pick your battles. Sometimes you have to let people sound uninformed. As luck would have it, nobody in the crowd nodded along or mentioned the comparison. The subsequent class discussion rightfully focused on the tragedy of the Zong massacre as a stand-alone event, free from distorted side-by-sides.  

To my fellow exhausted Zionists, my message is simple: Don’t go trying to fight everyone who’s misinformed. Trust me. I’ve been there, done that, worn the t-shirt. You’re not fighting them, you’re fighting their echo chamber. You’re going to lose, unless the person is willing to recognize it, and step outside of it. Only nuanced discussion where perceived realities are picked apart will break the confirmation bias-cycle. 

About the Author
Tia Sacks is a Master of Journalism student at the University of British Columbia, with a Bachelor of Arts in Media, Information and Technoculture from Western University. She is currently the research coordinator at the Centre for Israel and Jewish Affairs (CIJA) and served as a fellow in the first cohort of the World Jewish Congress Lauder Fellowship in 2020/2021.
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