Indignation is experienced and expressed when people feel that something is unjust. It has a strong social dimension and is often accompanied by a sense of righteousness in one's cause.
In turn, this can produce in-groups and out-groups: 'we' are those who recognise the injustice; 'they' are those who committed it, defend it, or perhaps fail to recognise it. There may also be those who are unaware of the situation, indifferent to it, uncertain about it, or who simply do not share the same sense of indignation. In grounded social reality, of course, many of us may not neatly fit into any one category.
Indignation can be a legitimate response to injustice and an important force for social change. What interests me sociologically is how indignation can also become selective and how narratives influence which injustices become visible, which identities are emphasised, and which voices are heard or excluded.
For example, narratives that successfully mobilise indignation and protest in one situation might not be adopted when the victim does not form part of the identities which one claims to represent. And what happens when different identities that one supports appear to be in conflict in a particular case?
A hierarchy may emerge in which some identities effectively become more important than others. This raises one of the contradictions of politics and activism that judges situations primarily through identity: Which identity do you put first when one identity you support appears to conflict with another that you also claim to support?
Similar contradictions can arise through the rapid circulation of stories in traditional and social media. Claims can spread before they have been adequately checked, alternative interpretations considered, or gaps and contradictions acknowledged. Nuance may be lost and voices dismissed because of who is speaking rather than what they are saying. This may even derail or reroute attempts to investigate the issue at stake.
Such behaviour can amount to the selective appropriation of codes and principles to fit established narratives rather than a reflexive engagement with the messy realities that characterise everyday life and social processes.
I do not think this tendency belongs exclusively to any one political, activist, or ideological camp. Some push a narrative and pick and choose what fits the script. This may include those portrayed as the "villains" of particular narratives as well as self-declared representatives of "the people", "truth" and so forth. Yet others, perhaps less visible in the headlines, patiently let the evidence show the way and interpret accordingly. The former may have speedy, ready-made answers; the latter tend to be more cautious and measured. Sometimes there may be more questions than answers.
From a sociological perspective, we should also be cautious about assuming that the loudest public reactions necessarily represent society as a whole. To understand the social impact of an issue properly, we need evidence-based quantitative and qualitative research that captures continuity and change over time as well as less visible public perceptions. Headlines and social media can amplify particular narratives without necessarily telling us which views are most widespread.
Issue interpretation can also reinforce already polarised positions. In Malta, these may frequently orbit around the partisan divide, but they can also extend beyond formal party affiliation. Voices may also gravitate towards particular narratives through other affiliations, networks or ideological orientations. Positions can consequently become increasingly resistant to interpretations outside their established frameworks.
Some issues also become highly visible because prominent political, business, media or civil-society actors are involved. Networks and resources can be mobilised around competing interpretations.
In the media sphere, the loudest and best-connected voices may therefore constitute what we might call the "front stage" of an issue. Moneyed interests can certainly exercise considerable influence, but they do not have a monopoly over attempts to shape public narratives. You might not be the richest group in town, but you may still have access to influential publicity networks in the mediasphere.
There is also a much less visible "backstage" of society. People discuss, interpret, doubt and reconsider events away from the public spotlight. Their views are unlikely to be monolithic. It may even be that considerably more nuance and deliberation exist backstage than highly polarised public debate suggests.
This brings us to institutional trust and positionality. Different organised groups may officially interpret political, civil-society or judicial decisions in radically different ways depending on what they expected from a particular process and their prior levels of trust in institutions, political actors, the media and the justice system.
Perhaps one of the most useful questions we can ask, therefore, is what evidence would make us reconsider our own position. If the answer is "nothing", we may no longer be investigating an issue. We may simply be defending a narrative or an interest.
Michael Briguglio is Associate Professor at the Department of Sociology, Faculty of Arts, University of Malta
www.michaelbriguglio.com