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Could Facebook Have Helped Stop the Spread of Hate in Myanmar?

6 minute read
Updated: | Originally published: ;

Of all the reckonings recently brought to bear on Facebook – from its role in election interference to exposure of users’ data – the one that staffers in Menlo Park, Calif. reportedly lose sleep over is the accusation that they facilitated ethnic cleansing in Myanmar.

U.N. investigators have accused Facebook of playing a “determining role” in violence that has driven nearly 700,000 Muslim Rohingya out of the country and killed at least 6,700 people in the first month alone. How exactly, and to what extent, the social media giant affected Myanmar’s military-led campaign of rape, arson and murder remains impossible to quantify, given the absence of available data.

A Facebook spokesperson told TIME via email there is “no place for hate speech” on its platform. But the company does not have an office in Myanmar, and local organizations complained of a lack of Burmese-speaking staff to report inappropriate content to. It can take days or even weeks for flagged content to be removed, they say. In a recent interview with Vox, Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg acknowledged the platform’s potential to cause “real world harm” in Myanmar, but noted that when two inflammatory chain messages circulated on Facebook’s Messenger app last September, “our systems detected” them and “stopped those messages from going through.”

Myanmar civil society groups balked at the suggestion that this showed Facebook’s effectiveness; in an open letter shared online Thursday, six organizations criticized what they called the company’s routinely “inadequate response” to improper content, including in the instance Zuckerberg highlighted. They were the ones to report the messages, which were nonetheless allowed to spread for days and which they said “caused widespread fear and at least three violent incidents.”

“This case exemplifies the very opposite of effective moderation: it reveals an over-reliance on third parties, a lack of a proper mechanism for emergency escalation, a reticence to engage local stakeholders around systemic solutions and a lack of transparency,” six groups said in a statement on Thursday. “The risk of Facebook content sparking open violence is arguably nowhere higher right now than in Myanmar,” they said.

Witnessing the Rohingya’s Invisible Genocide

ROHINGA
A Rohingya family, Burmese Muslims, live in the Thay Chaung camp for the Internally Displaced outside of Sittwe, which houses nearly 3000 people, Nov. 23, 2015. The mother, pictured here, claimed all her children were malnourished, but because of the lack of medical professionals in the area, it was impossible to confirm.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Moriam Katu, 50, who is gravely ill from severe asthma, is comforted by her daughters and other loved ones in the Ba Du Paw camp for Internally Displaced Rohingya around Sittwe, in Myanmar. Moriam was so ill, she could barely breathe, and began coughing up blood. She visited the emergency hospital at the That Kay Pin within the IDP camp, and there were not sufficient resources to treat her there. The medical advisor offered to transfer her to the government hospital in Sittwe, but she declined, because her family did not have enough money to keep her there. While her medical treatment would be free, her guardian would need to pay for food, which they estimated would be 20-30000 for food for a week. She declined and went back home. A few days later, she returned, and was transferred to Sittwe hospital, and died 10 days later. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Sumeir, 35, is comforted by her daughter as she lies semi-conscious on the floor of her family's home a few days after surgery at the Sittwe hospital, outside of the Thay Chaung camp, Sittwe, Myanmar, Nov. 24, 2015. For many years, Sumeir suffered from excruciating stomach pain. She went to the That Kay Pyin Emmergency hospital within the IDP camp, and was referred to Sittwe hospital, outside of the camp. She was operated on a few days prior in Sittwe, and quickly discharged and returned to the IDP camp at Thay Chaung, allegedly without post-operative care, information about her condition, and without medication for healing. She passed away the day after this picture was taken. “We are not dogs, we are not cows, we are people. There is a difference in how they treat us. They leave us to our own devices.” In the hospital, there is a lot of discrimination,” Azumeir says. The Rohingya in Myanmar are routinely denied proper medical care—within the camps around Sittwe, the only available medical care is at the emergency hospital, and both medical staff and prescription drugs are limited. Anyone with a serious condition may be referred to Sittwe, but the Rohingya often don’t trust government hospitals, and do not have the money to pay for meals and any additional expenses outside of treatment. Lack of medical care is one of the biggest concerns for the Rohingya.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Rohingya woman Shahda Begham, 25, poses for a portrait with Jannatara, 2, one of three daughters, in a home in an informal settlement in Shamlipur, in Bangladesh, Jan. 10, 2016. Shahda was living in Mongdo with her husband when their village was overrun by violence. Military came in and shot her husband--killing him--and took her and several other women into the forest and raped her repeatedly. "The military beat us; if somebody didn't want to go, it was rape. They tortured me in the forest; even when they pulled us from the bush they beat us." She later fled to Bangladesh with her three children. The Rohingya are systematically marginalized, and forced into formal and makeshift camps across Bangladesh and Myanmar. They often occupy hard labor jobs, like riding cycle rickshaws, working in the ice factories, fishing, and manual labor jobs they pick up daily. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
The Rohingya, Burmese Muslims, live in the Thay Chaung camp for the Internally Displaced outside of Sittwe, which houses nearly 3000 people, Nov. 23, 2015. Mother with twin boys under cooking smoke: Kamila Begam 25, has five children and are from Than Taw Lee, about five miles away from the Thay Chang camp where they are currently living. Standing by smoke: Halima Katu, 10, flowered top, and Khotiza Kata, 6, black top with red and green flowers.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Say Tha Mar Gyi camp for Internally Displaced Rohingya. Aisha Begum, 18, cooks in her family home in the camp, Nov. 26, 2015. Aisha is married, but her husband left her less than a year ago to go live with his family again.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
A Rohingya man, Burmese Muslims, sells food at a stall at night in the Thay Chaung camp for the Internally Displaced outside of Sittwe, which houses nearly 3000 people, Nov. 23, 2015. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Moriam Katu, 50 years, who is gravely ill from severe asthma, is offered water as she struggles to breathe in the That Kay Pin Emergency Hospital in the camp for Internally Displaced Rohingya outside of Sittwe, in Myanmar, Nov. 25, 2015. Moriam was so ill, she could barely breathe, and began coughing up blood. She visited the emergency hospital at the That Kay Pin within the IDP camp, and there were not sufficient resources to treat her there. The medical advisor offered to transfer her to the government hospital in Sittwe, but she declined, because her family did not have enough money to keep her there. While her medical treatment would be free, her guardian would need to pay for food, which they estimated would be 20-30000 for food for a week. She declined and went back home. A few days later, she returned, and was transferred to Sittwe hospital, and died 10 days later. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Kyaw Kyaw, 22, from Kyaukpyu: he is from a village about 60-70 miles away from the Thay Chaung IDP camp. During the second round of violence in Oct. 2012, Kyaw Kyaw left the mosque at about 7:30pm on Oct. 24 and the Rakhine came to their village, and the villagers tried to stop them. They destroyed the mosque. In front of him, one of the villagers was hit by police bullets, and he pulled away from the area. When the village was hit, he pulled away from the area, and at the same time, he was also hit in the eye. Two villagers brought him to the back, and there were 4-5 people in total who had been hit by police fire. In that moment, the villagers made an agreement with the military to transfer the injured to the hospital…. A bullet was still in his eye when he arrived at the Yangon hospital, and they did surgery on him. He was there about 45 days, and sent back to Sittwe. “I am not angry with the situation: I am always trying to be comfortable with people according to their religious decision. [This happened] because they wanted to cause problems for islam in general. Right now, we are having a lot of difficulties," he says. "My father can’t work; we can’t get money, and there are so many problems. We are suffering from many things right now. I used to have many friends—females, males—now I am the only one left, because anyone who has any money, left. Now I don’t have any friends. Yes, I feel very bad I lost my eye. I feel extremely sad. There are times when people talk down to me, but I am a man, and I am capable. My mother is getting old now, and I have to think about how to find a livelihood for her myself. If you want to think about how difficult it is for me, just imagine life without sight. Just close your eyes, and imagine. Of course I am frightened. I want to live in peace."Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
A government doctor looks over the sick child of a Rohingya man in the That Kay Pin Emergency Hospital in the camp for Internally Displaced Rohingya outside of Sittwe, in Myanmar, Nov. 25, 2015. The emergency hospital at That Kay Pin within the IDP camp has extremely limited resources, and doctors keep minimal hours to check and treat the ill or wounded.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Rohingya men, Burmese Muslims, carry the body of an elderly man who died of natural causes through the Thay Chaung camp for the Internally Displaced outside of Sittwe, which houses nearly 3000 people, Nov. 23, 2015. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Rohingya children walk through the Thay Chaung camp at dusk for the Internally Displaced outside of Sittwe, which houses nearly 3000 people, Nov. 23, 2015. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
ROHINGA
Rohingya fishermen arrive with fresh fish at the Thay Chaung fishing port in the Thay Chaung camp for internally displaced near Sittwe, in Myanmar, Nov. 24, 2015. Every morning, dozens of fishermen arrive at the port after having been at sea from anywhere from a few hours to several days. Fishing is one of the main means for the Rohingya to support themselves and their families. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Rohingya work alongside Bangladeshis in the dried fish market along the sea in Naziratek, outside of Cox's Bazaar, in Bangladesh. The Rohingya are systematically marginalized, and forced into formal and makeshift camps across Bangladesh and Myanmar. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Rohingya children collect leaves near the Shamlapur Beach, where many of the Rohingya keep their boats. Fishing is one of the few professions the Rohingya are able to do to support their families in both Myanmar and Bangladesh. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Desperate living conditions plague the Kutupalang informal camp for unregistered Rohingya refugees from Myanmar in Teknaaf Bangladesh, Jan. 11, 2016. Beside the Kutupalang camp is a registered camp of 15000 refugees, and the makeshift camp has grown over the years to approximately 40000 unregistered refugees. The inhabitants are provided with no services: there are rudimentary, unsanitary outdoor latrines, raw sewage streaming through the camp, no food distributions, and lack of medical care.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Desperate living conditions plague the Kutupalang informal camp for unregistered Rohingya refugees from Myanmar in Teknaaf Bangladesh, Jan. 11, 2016. Beside the Kutupalang camp is a registered camp of 15000 refugees, and the makeshift camp has grown over the years to approximately 40000 unregistered refugees. The inhabitants are provided with no services: there are rudimentary, unsanitary outdoor latrines, raw sewage streaming through the camp, no food distributions, and lack of medical care. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
A Rohingya woman walks around the perimeter of the Kutupalang informal camp for unregistered Rohingya refugees from Myanmar in Teknaaf Bangladesh, Jan. 11, 2016. Beside the Kutupalang camp is a registered camp of 15000 refugees, and the makeshift camp has grown over the years to approximately 40000 unregistered refugees. The inhabitants are provided with no services: there are rudimentary, unsanitary outdoor latrines, raw sewage streaming through the camp, no food distributions, and lack of medical care. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Sitara, 8, left, and Shahana, 10, right, read the Koran at a madrassa in a mosque in Shamlapur, a Rohingya settlement, outside of Cox’s bazaar. While there are very few opportunities for Rohingya children to go to school, most children do study the Koran at the local madrassa with the Imam of the community, in Bangladesh, Jan. 16, 2016.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Rohingya men transport Bangldeshis through Cox’s bazaar on cycle rickshaws. It is one of the few professions, along with fishing, working in ice-factories, and menial jobs in manual labor, that Rohingyas typically are able to work in Bangladesh, Jan. 16, 2016. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Rohingya men pray at a mosque in Shamlapur, a Rohingya settlement, outside of Cox’s bazaar. While there are very few opportunities for Rohingya children to go to school, most children do study the Koran at the local madrassa with the Imam of the community, in Bangladesh, Jan. 16, 2016. The Rohingya are systematically marginalized, and forced into formal and makeshift camps across Bangladesh and Myanmar. Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography
Rohingya; Bangaldesh
Rohingya live in an informal settlement in Shamlipur, in Bangladesh, Jan. 10, 2016. The Rohingya are systematically marginalized, and forced into formal and makeshift camps across Bangladesh and Myanmar. They often occupy hard labor jobs, like riding cycle rickshaws, working in the ice factories, fishing, and manual labor jobs they pick up daily.Lynsey Addario for The Annenberg Space for Photography

Some are skeptical about the extent of Facebook’s influence, citing pogroms that predate the platform’s existence, and other channels – including state-backed television and newspapers – used to legitimize abuse of the country’s estimated 1.1 million Rohingya. Mark Farmaner, director of Burma Campaign UK, tells TIME that, “violence against the Rohingya would have happened with or without Facebook,” adding that doesn’t absolve the company of the need to combat hate speech metastasizing on its platform.

Yet people working in Southeast Asia have long warned of the platform’s potential to weaponize information, amplify ethnic tensions and even incite violence. Facebook arrived in the former pariah state around the same time as the Internet and smartphones. Facebook’s ubiquity in Myanmar is not only part of the problem, it’s also emblematic of what can go wrong when the world’s largest social network also serves as the singular forum for political discourse, news and commerce.

“In Myanmar, Facebook serves as more than a space for social activity and liking cat videos; even the president used the platform to announce his resignation,” says one Yangon-based digital analyst who asked to remain anonymous due to the sensitivity of the issue. Facebook’s pervasiveness in Myanmar is matched only by its monopolizing influence; a 2017 poll found that 73% of people there rely on the site for news, and by some accounts, 85% of the country’s Internet traffic flows through the network.

Read more: Will the Rohingya Exodus Be Aung San Suu Kyi’s Fall From Grace?

In many ways, Myanmar epitomizes the changing narrative around Facebook: once perceived as a democratizing force, and lauded during the Arab Spring as a decentralized “people’s” platform that could unify a populace to help bring down tyrants, it has since come under fire for being vulnerable to exploitation by corrupt and despotic regimes. Virtually overnight, the social media giant provided a way to accelerate the spread of incendiary conspiracies and anti-Muslim vitriol that Buddhist nationalists previously disseminated through pamphlets or CDs.

Scrolling through Facebook in Myanmar often reveals a toxic brew of jingoistic fervor and ethnic vilification. Racial epithets, dehumanizing language, photos of dead bodies, politically charged cartoons and fabricated news articles are shared not only by hardline factions, but also by government officials – all of which fosters the impression of consensus and eclipses space for more moderate views. Monitoring groups have said that the majority of the hateful, dangerous speech targets Muslims, often portraying the minority as an existential threat to the Buddhist majority, calling for actions like boycotts, harassment and even deadly violence.

“The hate speech tends to spike at politically sensitive times such as during elections or conflicts,” says the Yangon-based analyst.

Digital researcher Raymond Serrato found evidence of such flare-ups coinciding with the military’s latest operations against the Rohingya. A Facebook group associated with a Buddhist nationalist organization known as Ma Ba Tha appears to have started posting in June 2016, and accelerated its activity the following October when an insurgent ambush triggered brutal army reprisals. Leading up to a second wave of attacks in August 2017, the number of posts again exploded with a 200% increase in interactions, according to Serrato. Scraping data from a military Facebook page revealed similarly timed activity spikes.

“It shows there was a concerted effort to influence the narrative of the conflict by the military and by Buddhist nationalists,” Serrato says.

While Facebook does not manufacture the message, it does curate the content and determine what users see in their News Feeds. Analysts say this system reinforces echo chambers, and has allowed misinformation to go viral in an environment where digital and news literacy are low. Many people in Myanmar, where until recently Internet penetration was among the lowest in the world, pay for smartphones to come preloaded with Facebook accounts and pre-liked pages.

“This is not a neutral platform. There are manipulative and falsifying elements to Facebook, ones that are under scrutiny in the U.K. and the U.S., and similarly should be in Myanmar,” says Robert Huish, an associate professor of International Development Studies at Dalhousie University. He added that “genocides require bombardments of misinformation to breed hatred” and that Facebook offers a mighty megaphone.

“The speed in which ultra-radical posts disseminated across Myanmar through Facebook was alarming,” Huish says, “and combined with a newly connected population it created a very unique scenario with devastating consequences.”

Correction: The original version of this story misstated the number of Facebook’s Burmese-speaking staff. It has some, not zero.

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Write to Laignee Barron at Laignee.Barron@time.com