The day war broke out in Ukraine, my TikTok was flooded with memes. 

I saw girls jokingly denouncing feminism to avoid the draft. Swipe. People asking for the aux cord in an armored tank. Swipe. Meet-ups with your besties on the battlefield. Swipe. Thirst traps of Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky.

Swipe.

Occasionally — and certainly more frequently in the following days — videos of actual footage from the conflict would surface, usually with the caption “Pray for Ukraine.”

In these little fragments from abroad, I watched wives sob their goodbyes to their husbands. Grandmothers clutching their grandbabies as they fled. Russian soldiers confronted in the countryside on the road to Kyiv, not even understanding where they were or what they were fighting for.

I remember watching a Ukrainian soldier utter his last words.

But even these serious videos seem tinged with the same collective sense of resigned nihilism as the memes. Most comments reading something along the lines of: 

“We’re really watching a war play out on a dancing app, huh?”

Swipe.

When I first observed the phenomenon, one word came to mind: schadenfreude. It’s a German term with no true English equivalent, and it describes the feeling of pleasure one gets watching someone else suffer. 

It’s kind of like that twisted sense of satisfaction you might get watching your ex break up with the person they left you for. Memes often rely on this sense of humor, for better or for worse. Only, during war, it’s on a much larger scale, and instead of high school drama, we’re watching a country fight for their lives.

All while brainstorming the next joke we can make.

It all feels a bit voyeuristic, like the war at hand is just new content for us to laugh at.

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Memes jokingly heralding the beginning of World War III also surfaced in early 2020, when the Trump administration ordered an airstrike in Iraq targeting General Qassem Soleimani.

Even in the weeks preceding the Russian invasion of Ukraine, Gen Z notoriously took to Instagram, spamming Russian President Vladimir Putin’s inbox with flirtatious messages begging him not to go to war.

Wartime-specific memes aren’t anything new, either. Arguably the most famous example is the “Kilroy was here” figure that popped up during World War II on battlefields across Europe. The meme depicted a cartoonish figure with a long nose peeking over a wall. 

The true purpose or origin of the figure still hasn’t been fully decoded, and I would argue that it never will. 

In the same breath, I’d argue that historians in the future will never fully understand some of the videos that go viral on TikTok these days.

If the decline of memes a few days into the war is anything to go by, people are beginning to understand that jokes about the conflict in Ukraine are in bad taste. These are real peoples’ lives we’re discussing, and these struggles are no laughing matter.

But I hesitate to fully condemn that initial reaction we all had the morning of Feb. 24, because I see those memes as a combined expression of discomfort and grief, in the least vulnerable way we know how: through humor. If the world is the sinking Titanic, memers are the musicians providing the entertainment for our descent into the dark, freezing ocean.

As quickly as memes can spread across social media platforms, so too can good, usable knowledge.

When people began to realize the gravity of the situation and what was at stake, they stopped. In the memes’ place, information thrived. The aforementioned footage from the conflict, though difficult to stomach at times, has rallied worldwide protests — even in Russia.

People also began sharing links that accepted donations for humanitarian efforts in Ukraine. Videos broke down the conflict into bite-sized pieces, making a vast and complex conflict feel more digestible to the everyday viewer.

Yes, we are watching a war play out on a dancing app.

And yes, it’s supposed to feel uncomfortable.

But I urge people to think critically about what is going on, rather than just cracking a quick joke and moving forward with their lives.

Our only other alternative would be merely to trust what governments tell us. And if the Pentagon Papers have taught us anything, it’s that transparency and accountability are our strongest weapons against tyranny and oppression.

Remember that the next time you swipe.