In defense of virtue-signaling emails

by Peter Case ’21, Opinion Editor

The Spectator
The Spectator

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Courtesy of Pixabay

There’s nothing quite like the fear that grips me when I open my email to see two or three emails from random campus clubs advertising a protest or demonstration or strike or whatever mode of peaceful objection the organizers chose to advocate for their cause. For this signals the flood, and there is nothing but repetitive subject lines and pressure to stay woke upon those seas. I lay awake at night, hoping that I do not get a notification from Super Smash Bros club telling me to wear blue and save the environment.

Last year, I helped to organize a demonstration against the use of date rape drugs at Hamilton social events and case mismanagement by the Title IX office. A couple of friends and I worked with SMART to organize the event. We knew that the crux of putting on a successful demonstration would be persuading a large enough body of students to stand outside in the cold. Hamilton students are busy, and based on our collective experience with campus events in the past, we were pessimistic about our ability to get a good showing.

We kicked around several ideas over the course of several days, trying to strategize how we would make sure that people on campus were even aware of the rally, much less convince them to attend. We were a small, ragtag Public Relations team who believed in our idea and had absolutely no clue how to implement it. We worked out an order of operations that would maximize visibility for the event. Posters in Commons would go up on Monday, we would call the Utica Observer-Dispatch on Tuesday, and on Wednesday we would send our first email from the SMART email account to the student body, encouraging other campus organization leaders to do the same. A divestment group had used the email strategy the year prior, and it seemed to get plenty of traction. It proved to be the most effective strategy we used, and seemingly also the most infuriating for the student body. The email read like this:

“Dear Members of the Hamilton Community,

We, the members of SMART, urge students, faculty, and staff to join us in a demonstration this Friday, April 19th at 11:45 AM outside of Buttrick Hall (building next to Commons) to express our anger at the use of date rape drugs against students, air our grievances regarding the administration’s response to this issue, and show our solidarity with survivors. We encourage students and faculty to walk out of their classes to demonstrate that the Hamilton College community takes this issue seriously. Please wear black. In the following week, SMART will hold a meeting to discuss the rally and create a list of demands regarding the response to sexual assault on campus.”

Soon, 53 campus organizations from the Campus Activities Board to the Positive Thinking Club had sent our email from their own accounts. As the emails rolled in our organizers’ group chat was buzzing with “hell yeah”s and let’s gooooooo”s. It meant a lot to us that our last minute idea looked like it was going to work.

But by Thursday, the day before the demonstration, each additional email just kind of … rolled into our inboxes without much acknowledgement. We were appreciative for each and every additional bit of support from campus organizations, but our eyes were glossed over with “Dear Members of the Hamilton Community, Dear Members of the Hamilton Community, Dear Members of the Hamilton Community.” What started out as an exciting show of solidarity became tired and insignificant. Moreover, for every one person excited about the demonstration there were two others who were annoyed by the influx of emails.

When the “CLIMATE STRIKE + WEAR BLUE” emails came flooding in this fall, I was impressed by the student organizers, proud to be part of a community that cared, and annoyed at the fact that I knew I would spend the next 24 hours having to sift through the same email from clubs who had no connection to the event in order to find emails from my professors. In that moment I knew exactly how everyone else felt when we sent out that first SMART email in the spring of last year: a complex mix of disillusioned, annoyed, proud, and excited. Some sort of social contract compels every group on campus to “retweet” these emails for fear of seeming like they do not care — for event organizers, this is a powerful tool.

Everyone gets mildly pissed off at these emails. I put my phone on “do not disturb” as soon as two or more organizations send out an identical email. But in the end, my annoyance simply does not matter. Who cares if this method of getting the word out there is a mild inconvenience? Hamilton is a generally apathetic campus; we get caught up in our own lives and are put out by even the slightest of inconveniences. Have you ever heard a friend complain about walking across campus to class? About how it’s slightly too cold in their room? About how this school is in the middle of nowhere?

This attitude is not exclusive to Hamilton College. People everywhere are married to their routines and anything that disrupts or annoys sticks out like a thorn in your shoe. Syracuse University students staged a sit-in for hours to protest racist graffiti on and are continuing to fight the administration for better treatment for minority groups on campus after several intense weeks. I am sure even those organizers get irritated by having to walk to class in the snow. It’s part of human nature.

I firmly believe that we as a student body are, for the most part, good people. We are generally empathetic, motivated to do good, and at least do not explicitly want to make the world a worse place for others. We have a solid record on big-picture questions of morality. But when it comes to everyday annoyances, we absolutely adore complaining. I am not at all immune to this phenomenon; I talk longingly about dropping out every time I sit down to write a paper.

When it comes to generating visibility for on campus protests, rallies, and demonstrations aimed at bettering our community, email chains are an extremely powerful and effective tool. There is no more efficient way of disseminating information on campus than through all-campus emails. Banners in Commons get ignored, Facebook events are limited by existing friendships, and many students do not read campus publications. While they may be virtue-signalling, the email chains we receive every once in a while are a valid way for information to be shared.

So, my entirely unsolicited advice for organizers looking to spread information about a protest is this: choose your placements. Solicit 5–8 groups on campus who have missions closely related to your own. Earn their endorsement and support and have them send an individualized email on your events’ behalf. Do not encourage other groups to copy and paste your email. Maybe then students will not resent a movement for a minor inconvenience. Annoyance is unavoidable.

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