A Digital Ethnography of Compassion in a Polarised Time
“Repel evil with that which is better.” – The Qur’an 41:34
By Mohammed Talha Siddi Bapa
Thousands gathered at Delhi’s Jantar Mantar. Television cameras followed speeches, slogans and political confrontation. News channels debated competing political narratives. Across social media, supporters and critics argued over the protest, exchanged accusations and defended their respective positions. Yet, while following the protest online, I noticed another story unfolding alongside the political one. It was not about speeches. It was not about party leaders. It was not even about the protest itself. It was about service.
One video showed a young Muslim volunteer quietly distributing food and water among the protesters. Another showed a Hindu woman travelling nearly 180 kilometres to thank him. A third, widely circulated on social media, claimed that another Muslim volunteer who distributed drinking water was questioned by police the following day. While the details of the latter incident remain independently unverified, the public response to these stories became impossible to ignore.
As a journalist, I decided to follow not merely the protest but its digital footprint. What emerged was a fascinating pattern.
Looking Beyond the Headlines
Journalists traditionally report what happens at the scene of an event. Increasingly, however, another layer deserves attention. Every major event now generates a parallel conversation online. Millions of people watch, like, comment and share. Those digital choices do not constitute a scientific opinion poll, but they do provide valuable clues about which stories resonate with people.
This approach, often described as digital ethnography, is less concerned with measuring opinion than with observing behaviour. Instead of asking people what they think, it examines what they voluntarily choose to amplify.
Following the Jantar Mantar protest across YouTube, Facebook, Instagram and X, I found something unexpected.
While political speeches competed for attention, videos showing ordinary volunteers serving food and water travelled rapidly across platforms. Different creators uploaded them. Different audiences watched them. The same clips appeared repeatedly in different languages and from different accounts. The comments became as interesting as the videos themselves.
Mohammad Junaid
Among the most widely shared videos was that of a young volunteer identified as Mohammad Junaid. There was nothing dramatic about what he was doing. He moved quietly among the protesters, distributing food, offering water and helping people gathered in the summer heat. Elderly participants, students and visitors alike appeared to receive the same treatment. His work resembled that of countless volunteers who serve at religious gatherings, disaster relief camps and public events across India. What made the video memorable was not only the service but the brief conversation that followed. A social media journalist asked him why he was doing it. Junaid’s reply was simple. “These students are agitating for their future. I wanted to serve them.”
There was no political vocabulary in his answer. He did not speak about governments, parties or ideologies. He spoke only about students and service. The interviewer then asked another question that many viewers themselves were asking. Where was the money coming from? Junaid answered with equal simplicity. “Everyone brings something and contributes to the service.” There was no claim of a large organisation or hidden sponsor. His description suggested a community effort in which ordinary people contributed whatever they could – food, water or other essentials – to support those gathered at the protest. Perhaps it was precisely this simplicity that touched many viewers.
A Journey of Gratitude
Soon another video began circulating. It showed Sunita Arora, reportedly from Saharanpur, who had travelled nearly 180 kilometres to meet Mohammad Junaid after watching his videos online. She had not travelled to join the protest. She had not travelled to meet a political leader. She had travelled to thank a young volunteer. In an era when algorithms are often criticised for rewarding outrage, they had, in this instance, connected one act of service with one act of gratitude.
Whether every detail of the story ultimately receives independent confirmation or not, the symbolism of the journey captured public imagination. The story spread rapidly across YouTube, Facebook and Instagram, reaching audiences far beyond those physically present at Jantar Mantar. The journey itself became part of the story.
Reading the Digital Conversation
As more videos appeared, I began paying closer attention to the comments. They revealed recurring patterns. Many described the volunteers’ actions as examples of insaniyat – humanity. Others called them the ‘real India’. Several comments praised unity, brotherhood and constitutional values. One commenter wrote that strengthening unity was more important than spreading hatred in the name of religion or caste. Another thanked those who had supported the protesting students, calling feeding the hungry an act that should never be questioned. Others simply expressed appreciation for kindness without referring to politics at all.
The comments were not uniform. There were sceptical voices as well, and social media remains a space where competing narratives coexist. But across different platforms, appreciation for selfless service emerged repeatedly as a visible theme.
That observation deserves attention. Not because it proves what every Indian thinks. It doesn’t. But because it reveals what many people participating in this particular online conversation chose to recognise and amplify. In journalism we often ask what happened. The digital age invites another equally important question: What did people choose to share?
