Using tragedy for clout
Two hours from Tokyo, there is a beautiful forest known for its tall, overlapping trees that grow extremely close to each other. The dense canopy blocks out the sunlight and muffles the outside noise, making the Aokigahara Forest one of the quietest and most peaceful areas in Japan. At its entrance, however, one would find an unusual sign, written in Japanese: “Quietly think once more about your parents, siblings, or children. Please don’t suffer alone, and first reach out.” This is because, in recent decades, the Aokigahara forest has become infamously known as a place where many locals have died by suicide. The message was an effort to encourage future visitors with the same intent to hopefully reconsider.
In 2017, the forest’s dark reputation received global attention when an American vlogger filmed a controversial video that trivialized the tragic deaths that occur in the forest. In a now-deleted clip, YouTube star Logan Paul can be seen telling jokes while standing near a partially blurred body hanging from a tree. The influencer received intense criticism and major backlash, prompting YouTube to impose penalties and ban advertisers from his channel. Despite this incredibly disrespectful act, Paul continues to be an influential online personality and has even been included several times in the Forbes list of highest-paid YouTubers.
In today’s attention-driven social media culture, engagement has become a marker and barometer of social status. The number of likes, shares, and views one receives can influence credibility and unlock opportunities such as channel monetization, brand partnerships, and endorsements. This environment has given rise to a modern behavior called ”clout-chasing”—referring to when people create content primarily to attract attention, often by resorting to extreme acts or sensational, emotionally charged posts.
Since unfortunate events usually trigger a surge of public attention, they serve as fertile ground for people to chase social media engagement. When news breaks, people rush online to seek information and mourn collectively to feel part of a moment. But the impulse to “join the conversation” can quickly shift from empathy and genuine concern to something driven by the desire to maintain one’s online relevance. Posting about a tragedy can function as virtue signaling and a tool for personal branding, enabling people to present themselves as compassionate, socially aware, or politically engaged.
At best, performative empathy is superficial and annoying. At worst, it becomes exploitative, with some individuals actively finding ways to monetize other people’s suffering. For instance, some scammers use other people’s hospital fundraising stories and attach fake donation links and GCash accounts to prey on the public’s sympathy and goodwill. Others create speculative “awareness content” or opinion videos that sensationalize a tragic event for more clicks and views.
A recent incident in the country serves as a disturbing example. After the unexpected passing of a young content creator, some news-style social media pages began splicing her old clips into dramatic narrative-style videos, claiming to know the circumstances surrounding her death and the factors leading to it. These posts were not made to honor her; they were deliberately engineered to capitalize on the spike in engagement driven by people’s curiosity about what happened. Turning a person’s death into content fodder violates their dignity not only by commodifying their passing but also by denying their grieving family the respect and privacy they deserve.
It’s true that greater visibility online often leads to more opportunities. As we see in Paul’s experience, even negative attention resulting from tone-deaf content can still somehow translate into a stronger influence and platform. This is why users must be more discerning by establishing moral boundaries around what we post and whom we patronize online. Those who actively try to gain influence through exploitative means must be called out, reported, and denied the views and likes that fuel their reach.
Since the digital age has normalized publicizing one’s personal reflections, people have been conditioned to think that it’s good to always have an opinion and to process one’s experiences publicly. But in very sensitive situations, it is important to lean into our humanity first rather than our desire to be seen. Our first instinct should not be: “What can I say about this?” or “How do I post about this issue?” but rather, “Should I post about this at all?” Let us not forget that behind these stories are real people dealing with unimaginable pain. We can choose to express our support without broadcasting it publicly. We can choose to honor people’s privacy or refuse to share unverified information. Sometimes, the most respectful response is silence, and the best way to show empathy is to practice self-restraint.
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eleanor@shetalksasia.com
