WHEN I was growing up, the only access I had to images and information about conflicts abroad was through TV and newspapers. In the days before the internet and social media – a phrase that makes me sound like a dinosaur these days – I remember watching news reports on TV showing bombs falling and desperate civilians fleeing all manner of global circumstance.

Back in the olden days of my childhood, I used to become frustrated at the disconnect between what was happening on my TV and what was happening outside my window. As a kid, I saw the terror of other children on our nightly news bulletins, or the images of children starving in famine-hit areas, but when I glanced outside life was plodding on as normal in my community. I couldn't figure it out as a youngster. I couldn't make sense of a world where both of these things could exist at the same time.

If only we could speak to each other, I'd think, it would all be totally different. If we didn't all feel so far away from each other, it would all change.

By the time of the Iraq invasion in 2003, my family had acquired a computer and an internet connection. Using search engines, I suddenly had access to depictions of war that I'd never seen before, that I'd been somewhat protected from. The sense of injustice that burned in me grew further.

Then, social media arrived and provided a global network for normal people to connect with one another in ways that had never been possible before. But has this altered the way we relate to overseas conflicts and causes, or are we ultimately as indifferent as ever to events we feel are happening on someone else's shores?

One of social media's rising profiles recently has been that of a seven-year-old girl, Bana al-Abed, living in the Syrian city of Aleppo. Bana tweets in English and she has offered a disturbing commentary of the devastation surrounding her. Her mother, Fatemah, handles the account, but Bana is very much the face of it.

Her account caused alarm last week when it suddenly disappeared offline after she had tweeted: "We are sure the army is capturing us now. We will see each other another day dear world. Bye. – Fatemah #Aleppo"

There was relief when it re-appeared a short time later, but tweets from Bana and her mother continued in their desperation: "Under attack. Nowhere to go, every minute feels like death. Pray for us. Goodbye," Fatemah tweeted when the account returned.

The account has captured the attention of international media, and Bana has become the face of terrified civilians in Aleppo. Questions have been raised by some commentators about the authenticity of Bana's situation – her videos appear scripted, for example, and accusations about her being used as a propaganda tool have flown around social media.

However, there's no doubt that Bana's story has offered a chance to connect with people on a different level, a more human level, than news reports about bombs, military strategies and international politics can. The question is how this ultimately affects the way people living outside of warzones subsequently think about them. While Bana has gained much international coverage, for now, it seems, she is still trapped in Aleppo and the lives of her and her family are still in danger.

Her communication with the world may not be enough to secure her evacuation, but the long-term effect of creating an emotional bond with her 233,000 Twitter-followers could have a long-lasting effect on them.

In many ways, it's still too early to tell how much impact social media has in changing the course of events. There's no doubt of its ability to raise awareness, but how that translates into action requires more time to assess.

Short-term victories are memorable, and social media campaigns have picked up plenty of those in recent years, but whether it gives rise to a sense of global solidarity that fundamentally changes the way civilians understand one another is still unclear. And perhaps it would be foolish to assume that it alters thinking in a positive way. My childhood naivety still persists; seeing others suffer does not necessarily result in care and compassion – fear is just as strong an emotion, and can be a far more dangerous one.

Bana’s story and her fate may end up being of relatively fleeting social media interest, but perhaps our analysis of how these relationships affect us needs to progress: the most meaningful change may not happen in bursts of measurable cause and effect, but in a more substantial mental shift. The child in me still hopes that this might finally bridge that gap between the TV screen and the window to the outside world.