How the advent of social media has kicked online vigilantism and public shaming up a gear
Public shaming is nothing new, really. In the old days you would have been locked in the town square stocks for minor transgressions like swearing or drunkenness, or been made to don a dunce cap for acting out at school. (Those were still around in some parts of the US as recently as the 1950s, believe it or not.) But the Monica Lewinsky scandal in the ’90s kickstarted a new form of online vigilantism that has only gathered strength with the advent of social media. In the two decades that have passed since her affair went viral, a culture of shaming and public humiliation has woven itself into the fabric of society, creating what Monica describes as ‘a mob of virtual stone throwers’.
Idon’t even know how to begin to describe what it was. But to see my face on TV, to read my name in the newspaper? People have no idea what this has done,’ says Monica Lewinsky in a 1999 interview, choking back tears. ‘That behind the name “Monica Lewinsky” there is a person, there is a family and there has been so much pain that has been caused by all of this. It was so destructive. It was so destructive.’
If you were too young to have watched the 1998 Monica Lewinsky scandal unfolding, you would almost certainly have seen the memes or wryly shaken your head at comedy skits at her expense. Her black beret became iconic, the symbol of a fallen woman torn to pieces by media that was fuelled by the boost of technology and the ability to spread news at a rate not yet witnessed before. ‘At the age of 22, I fell in love with my boss,’ says Monica, in her 2015 TedTalk, The Price of Shame. ‘And at the age of 24, I learnt the devastating consequences.’ She describes herself as ‘patient zero, the first to lose a personal reputation on a global scale, almost instantaneously’.
SPREADING LIKE WILDFIRE
In December 2013, 30-year-old senior director of corporate communications at InterActiveCorp Justine Sacco was on a flight to South Africa. Before her plane departed, she tweeted, ‘Going to Africa. Hope I don’t get Aids. Just kidding. I’m white!’
In July 2015, Walter Palmer, a US trophy hunter whose preferred weapon was a bow and arrow, wounded and later killed Cecil the lion in Zimbabwe.
And in August 2018, Adam Catzavelos videoed himself on a beach in Greece saying, ‘Let me give you a weather forecast here: blue skies, beautiful day, amazing sea and not one k **** r in sight.’
What could these three stories possibly have in common with Monica Lewinsky’s? It’s simple: a single action resulted in catastrophic fallout for each of these individuals. And it would have been impossible without social media.
Monica describes how she was branded ‘a tramp, tart, slut, whore, bimbo and “That Woman”’ – and how she struggled to find a job for years afterwards. She lost her reputation and dignity, and was never able to escape a decision she made at 22 years old – one that would
In 1787, US founding father Benjamin Rush wrote, ‘Shaming is universay acknowledged to be a worse punishment than death.’
define her for the rest of her life.
Justine’s tweet went viral. #HasJustineLandedYet trended worldwide and her thoughtless words resulted in her being fired.
Web users uncovered Walter’s personal information, including details about his family. His private dental practice was identified and targeted, and thousands of negative reviews were posted on various platforms until the practice had to close its doors temporarily. The words ‘Lion Killer’ were spray-painted on the garage door of his Florida vacation home and at least seven pickled pigs’ feet were left outside his residence. People publicly made threats of physical violence on his practice’s Facebook page and via Twitter.
‘Catzavelos’ became a trending hashtag on South African social media and Twitter users called on people to boycott any business he was associated with. This included Nike, where Adam’s wife was said to work as a merchandising director; some outlets closed their doors in fear of public retaliation. He was fired from his family’s business, St George’s Fine Foods, and the business and its associated restaurant were closed to avoid protest action. Popular local steakhouses The Butcher Shop and the
Baron Group also announced they had terminated their contract with the company.
We have the right to choose to condemn certain behaviour – be it infidelity, privilege and prejudice, animal cruelty or racism. In some cases, calling people or companies out publicly for their unethical or hurtful behaviour can have farreaching positive effects. ‘When it is well directed, a lot of good can come out of it,’ says John Oliver, comedian and host of news satire show
Last Week Tonight. ‘If someone is caught doing something racist, or a powerful person is behaving badly, it can increase accountability.’
But the difficult question we need to ask ourselves is: where do we draw the line when it comes to online vigilantism?
IT’S NOTHING NEW…
Society’s desire to publicly shame and hold accountable those who have erred is not a new phenomenon – Western societies once relied heavily on shame. There was a deep belief in the importance of conformity to bring about community stability. Shame-based punishments like public stocks and pillories were widely used between the 16th and 18th centuries, and flogging was a common punishment, often administered in public. It didn’t end there: in the 1940s, French women who associated with the Nazis had their heads shaved in public.
In 1787, US founding father Benjamin Rush wrote, ‘Shaming is universally acknowledged to be a worse punishment than death.’
The 18th-century Enlightenment period ignited a shift away from this form of punishment, with a new emphasis on the importance of human dignity. Public stocks were banned from 1804, and from as early as 1861 parents were discouraged from shaming their children and building their selfconfidence with positive affirmation instead. Schools moved away from humiliation tactics as the 20th century progressed and methods like the use of dunce caps were deemed archaic. So how have we regressed to embracing public humiliation again, but now on a global scale?
DOES THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME?
Dr Guy Aitchison, an Irish Research Council fellow at University College Dublin, says that with today’s technology, while it takes just a few seconds to upload a photo or video, the impact of this on the person concerned can last a lifetime.
‘A whole global audience is invited to join in with ridicule and abuse, and this often spills over into the target’s personal life with calls for them to be fired and disciplined at work and so on.’
He adds that this can soon ‘escalate to a form of social ostracism’ and often a ‘punishment’ that is ‘wholly disproportionate to the original offence’.
‘Technologically enhanced shaming is amplified, uncontained and permanently accessible,’ says Monica. The most intimate details of people’s lives are made ‘public without consent, public without context, public without compassion’. ‘These platforms traffic in shame. This invasion of others is a raw material, efficiently and ruthlessly mined, packaged and sold at a profit. A marketplace has emerged where public humiliation is a commodity and shame is an industry.’
The internet has allowed a faceless mob to mushroom, emboldened by anonymity and a lack of accountability. ‘In the past, shaming would presumably have a start and end point,’ writes journalist Lisa Kongazon. ‘A modern mass shaming, however, is like a permanent stain. Social media can punish those deemed offensive more severely than any formal sentence.’
Justine Sacco was interviewed on record only once after her infamous tweet. When describing the days that unfolded after the event, she says: ‘I cried out my body weight in the first 24 hours. It was incredibly traumatic. You don’t sleep. You wake up in the middle of the night forgetting where you are.’
She released a statement apologising for her words and left South Africa early. Employees had threatened to strike at the hotels she had booked at if she checked in and she was informed that no one could guarantee her safety. Her extended family in South Africa were ANC supporters and longtime activists for racial equality. When Justine arrived at the family home from the airport, one of the first things her aunt said to her was: ‘This is not what our family stands for. And now, by association, you have almost tarnished the family.’
CANCEL CULTURE
Celebrities aren’t exempt either. Taylor Swift is a prime example of the power of so-called ‘cancel culture’ – when people turn against a public figure. When Kim Kardashian released a clip of a phone call between Taylor and Kanye West in 2016 in which the pop star had in fact approved a controversial lyric about her that the rapper had used in a song, she seemed to have been caught in a lie. #TaylorSwiftIsCancelled started trending online and Taylor effectively disappeared from the public eye for a year. ‘When you say someone is cancelled, it’s not a TV show. It’s a human being,’ she told Vogue.
‘I don’t think there are many people who understand what it’s like to have millions of people hate you very loudly.’ Four years later, she’s been vindicated.
Others are less fortunate. Take Caroline Flack, a British TV and radio presenter who hosted reality show Love Island for five years. Her fall from grace came after a domestic dispute saw her facing an assault charge that was not supported by her boyfriend and alleged victim, Lewis Burton. She was fired from Love Island, dehumanised by Twitter lynch mobs and vilified by the tabloids. Caroline committed suicide in February this syear. The tabloids back-pedalled furiously following her death, deleting stories and tweets, which many believe contributed directly to her becoming suicidal.
CLICKING WITH COMPASSION
Platforms like Twitter encourage users to share instant reactions – support or condemnation summarised into a few characters – rather than considered responses, often condemning people for a single act, decision or moment in the context of a lifetime. The context necessary to understand complicated situations is often excluded. As author Jon Ronson states in his book So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, platforms like Facebook and Twitter leave users ‘constantly lurching towards instant cold judgement’ instead of encouraging genuine human curiosity. Have we completely lost our empathy?
In Shame Nation: The Global Epidemic of Online Hate, internet safety expert and co-author of the book Sue Scheff talks about how cyber-shaming has become a pastime – and that we are all vulnerable to a digital disaster. ‘You are one single keystroke away from your life being destroyed,’ she writes.
The fine line between online vigilantism and the more noble goal of ensuring accountability comes down to a question of information, thoughtful consideration and context. Think about the real person behind every shared scandal or salacious image, take the time to research and understand the full story, dare to walk a mile in someone else’s headline. Does the punishment truly fit the crime? And, if someone were to shake your closet hard enough, would they hear the rattle of a dusty skeleton as well? ❖