Above all else, however, Kony 2012 appealed to viewers’ sense of emotion rather than their sense of logic. Here, my high school English teacher would like me to include references to pathos and logos. By including footage of the founder’s five-year-old son, or his relationship with one Ugandan boy, viewers began to connect with the video in a way they otherwise would not have.

For me, Kony 2012’s chief allure was its ability to instantly empower anyone who viewed the documentary. We all have those really cool, hip friends who share cool, hip articles and get 15 to 20 likes, but not too many because that would be mainstream. Kony 2012 provided each and every one of us the opportunity to be that person. If you shared this video, everyone who scrolled through your Facebook or Twitter feeds would know that you were someone who was invested in the welfare of our planet, someone who paid attention to movements more relevant than bringing mozzarella sticks back to the cafeteria.

And while in that instance it was effective in drawing people in and raising awareness, social media has proven to be limited in making actual, real-life change. After sharing Invisible Children’s video, many felt a sense of accomplishment, that their contribution to the effort had been made. That was easy. How many people actually showed up for the April 20 “Cover the Night” event (excluding my little brother)? An absurdly smaller number than those who shared the video.

In this country, the social media age has given rise to a generation of complacency, where taking a link from one website and putting it on another is a sufficient social contribution. It’s easy to retweet, revine, or use that third-party app Regram for Instagram. Actually going out and doing something is not only much more arduous, but we aren’t rewarded with the favorites and likes that we so desire.

Perhaps I’m being naive, and the goal of Invisible Children was just to raise awareness and create a buzz. But I don’t think so. Kony is still out there. Bullies still terrorize students, women still make 77 cents for every dollar a man earns, drunk drivers still exist and kill people every single day. All these ideals we love to get behind online are certainly worthwhile, but at least until now, we have demonstrated that acting on them isn’t.

Declan P. Garvey '17, a Crimson editorial writer, lives in Canaday Hall. His column appears on alternate Fridays.