It may be somewhat paradoxical to refel to shame as a "feeling," for while shame is initially painful, constant shaming leads to a deadening of feeling. Shame, like cold, is, in essence, the absence of warmth. And when it reaches overwhelming intensity, shame is experienced, like cold, as a feeling of numbness and deadness. [In Dante's Inferno] the lowest circle of hell was a region not of flames, but of ice - absolute coldness.
(James Gilligan, Violence: Reflections on Our Deadliest Epidemic)
These giants were being brought down by people who used to be powerless - bloggers, anyone with a social media account. And the weapon that was felling them was the new one: online shaming.(...) When we deployed shame, we were utilizing an immensely powerful tool. It was coercive, borderless, and increasing in speed and influence. Hierarchies were being leveled out. The silenced were getting a voice. It was like the democratization of justice.
***
When I finished the story, he said, "It's about the terror, isn't it? "
"The terror of what? " I said.
"The terror of being found out, " he said.
He looked as if he felt he were taking a risk even mentioning to me the existence of the terror. He meant that we all have ticking away within us something we fear will badly harm our reputation if it got out——some "I'm glad I'm not that" at the end of "I'm glad I'm not me. " I think he was right. Maybe our secret is actually nothing horrendous. Maybe nobody would even consider it a big deal if it was exposed. But we can't take that risk. So we keep it buried. Maybe it's a work impropriety. Or maybe it's just a feeling that at any moment we'll blurt something out during some important meeting that'll prove to everyone that we aren't proper professional people or, in fact, functional human beings.
***
In the early days of Twitter there were no shamings. We were Eve in the Garden of Eden. We chatted away unselfconsciously. As somebody back then wrote, "Facebook is where you lie to your friends, Twitter is where you tell the truth to strangers. " Having fun and honest conversations with like-minded people I didn't know got me through hard times that were unfolding in my actual house. Than came the Jan Moir and the LA Fitness shamings——shamings to be proud of——and I remember how exciting it felt when hitherto remote evil billionaires like Rubert Murdoch and Donald Trump created their own Twitter accounts. For the first time in history we sort of had direct access to ivory-tower oligarchs like them. We became keenly watchful for transgressions.
After a while, it wasn't just transgressions we were keenly watchful for. It was misspeakings. Fury at the terribleness of other people had started to consume us a lot. And the rage that swirled around seemed increasingly in disproportion to whatever stupid thing some celebrity had said. It felt different to satire or journalism or criticism. It felt like punishment. In fact, it felt weird and empty when there wasn't anyone to be furious about. The days between shamings felt like days picking at fingernails, treading water.
***
But it's odd that so many of us see shaming how free-market libertarians see capitalism, as a beautiful beast that must be allowed to run free.
(Jon Ronson, So You've Been Publicly Shamed)