This article was first published in the August 2015 issue of WIRED magazine. Be the first to read WIRED's articles in print before they're posted online, and get your hands on loads of additional content by subscribing online
After this piece was filed, Barclays decided it would end mountaintop removal mining, although it remains one of the largest international financiers of the coal sector as a whole.
The discussion about 21st-century shaming usually turns to cases in which an otherwise well-behaved person posts a tweet or photograph that results in excessive punishment by an anonymous and bloodthirsty online crowd which ruins that person's life for a while. Many people, myself included, object to this form of vigilantism. But other examples of shaming -- singling out big banks for environmental destruction, exposing countries for refusing to end forced labour or calling out denialists who undermine action on climate change -- challenge the mistreated tweeter as shaming's stereotype. What shaming largely is, after all, is not necessarily what shaming might be.
Some recent cases of shaming show us how social disapproval might be wielded in considerate and effective ways. Non-profit groups, including Netherlands-based BankTrack, have spent the last five years calling out the worst banks funding mountaintop-removal coal mining in Appalachia, which is environmentally destructive but not yet illegal. After being exposed, several banks vowed to phase out their relationship with mountaintop removal, thus demonstrating the power of shame to work at large scales. (In contrast, Barclays actually scaled up its financing and in 2013 became the number one financer of mountaintop-removing coal companies with 12.5 per cent of market share. Expect to see strategic shaming of Barclays in the future.)
Shaming retailers and even countries can sometimes trigger big changes before legislation is in place. In June 2014, The Guardian reported on slave labour in Thailand's shrimp industry and named large retailers which sold slave-prepared shrimp, including Tesco. An official spokesman for Prime Minister David Cameron said that it was "up to consumers whether they chose to eat prawns that had been produced through the work of slaves". Saddling consumers with the government's job is a Machiavellian approach to addressing social problems. Even without government action, retailers understood that the problem had to be addressed, and Tesco pledged to "ensure the supply chain is slavery-free". The story landed the day before a vote in Geneva to adopt a new treaty to ban forced labour around the world. Thailand opposed it but, after public opprobrium, went back on its decision.
Several studies, including one my colleagues and I conducted, have shown that singling out bad apples in social dilemmas can lead to greater co-operation. Polls show that the vast majority of Americans, including half of Republicans, believe we should take action on climate change, but members of Congress block legislation. Recently, non-profit group Organizing for Action made it easy to call out climate denialists in the US Congress privately over email or publicly over Twitter, and even hosted a climate-change fantasy tournament between the 16 worst climate denialists in Congress.
Digital technologies have made it possible for each of us to instigate online shaming -- and each potentially become its victim -- but more important, we are now asked every day which issues matter enough to weigh in on. Given the limited nature of attention, and how essential attention is to shaming's effectiveness, we must ask ourselves which issues to prioritise. We might share concerns about a shame-filled world that leads to individual suffering and worry that punishment online is disproportionate and lacks due process. But shaming, aimed well, cautiously and at the right time, can improve society.
This article was originally published by WIRED UK
