Shared Trauma: How Social Media Silences Our Humanity

Martinho Cumbane"

The morning of Wednesday, July 4th of this year, brought more than the brutal news of the murder of two officers of the Republic of Mozambique Police (PRM) and SERNIC in Manduca, Matola. It also brought a silent invasion: explicit photographs of bodies torn apart by 54 bullets, disseminated without warning in WhatsApp groups and Facebook feeds. This indiscriminate exposure, which transforms the pain of others into a digital spectacle, not only disrespects the dead but also harms the living and demands urgent reflection on ethics, mental health, and collective responsibility. When images of extreme violence invade our networks unfiltered, we consume more than information; we consume trauma. As psychiatrist Kenneth Yeager, Director of the Ohio State University Trauma Center (USA), warns, "repeated exposure to graphic scenes of violence generates vicarious trauma, a debilitating condition that reproduces symptoms of post-traumatic stress even in those who did not directly experience the event" (Yeager, Journal of Psychological Trauma, 2023). In Mozambique, where 78% of the population accesses social media via mobile phones (CIP, 2024), children and adolescents are particularly vulnerable. The American Academy of Pediatrics has demonstrated that "early viewing of violent content is associated with chronic anxiety, sleep disturbances, and moral desensitization" (AAP, 2022). Some advocate sharing as a form of "denouncement." But as philosopher Judith Butler argues, "turning bodies into spectacle is a second violence, reducing human beings to objects of visual consumption" (War Frames, 2009). If we want to discuss the insecurity in Matola, where two attacks on police officers occurred in one week, we must focus on the causes: impunity, arms trafficking, and institutional fragility. Images of corpses do not generate awareness; they generate pain pornography, a term coined by media theorist Susan Sontag to describe "the morbid fascination that disconnects violence from its political context" (Before the Pain of Others, 2003). Social networks like Facebook and WhatsApp operate algorithms that prioritize engagement, not ethics. A study by the Massachusetts Institute of Technology revealed that "violent graphic content has 3.2 times more reach than regular posts due to virality mechanisms" (MIT, 2024). But we are also complicit: by reposting images even with "sensitivity warnings," we normalize barbarity as entertainment. As Mozambican sociologist Carlos Serra points out, "the right to dignified mourning is an African cultural principle of Ubuntu violated by this exposure" (Cultura e Violência Urbana, UEM, 2021). For an Ethical Digital Revolution The solution to this digital epidemic requires collective and multifaceted action. First, digital platforms must assume their responsibility by implementing proactive filters to block the uploading of violent graphic images from your device to the internet. The success of platforms like TikTok in doing this demonstrates that it is feasible and technically imperative. Second, regulatory bodies like the Mozambique Communications Regulatory Authority (INCM) need to create and publicize prioritized and effective reporting channels, ensuring that inappropriate content is quickly removed. Finally, and crucially, we, the users, must break the chain of digital voyeurism. This means resolutely refusing to share these images, proactively reporting posts that expose the pain of others, and, above all, protecting children and adolescents from such unnecessary and detrimental exposure to their mental health. Manduca's case is not isolated, and while shocking, it is not an isolated incident. In 2024, Mozambique's Center for Public Integrity documented 174 violent deaths wrongly reported on social media (CIP Report, March 2025). Honoring these victims requires more than mere indignation; it requires that we refuse to transform their agony into mere consumer content. As Nobel Peace Prize laureate Amartya Sen aptly wrote, "development is freedom, including the freedom from being violated by the image of one's own death" (Development as Freedom, 1999). May the Manduca tragedy be a catalyst for an ethical digital revolution in Mozambique. My training in Library Science taught me: all information is memory. When we click on images of death, we build digital libraries of horror. But we can choose to build archives of dignity. As Ungulani Ba Ka Khosa wrote: "Memory that does not heal is poison." May our next click be one of ethical rebellion: enjoying the silence, sharing respect.

2025/12/3