The publication of my new
book on courage has put me in mind of the social aspects of our emotions. These are profound and help explain many of
our current political difficulties.
Nonetheless, most people
imagine that our feelings are purely private.
They are regarded as psychological phenomenon to which no one but those
experiencing them has access. As such,
their range of influence is thought to be limited.
Yet this is not true. Let me illustrate. When I taught introductory sociology to
non-majors at Kennesaw State, I employed a demonstration of the power of social
norms. Thus, I began by asking a student
seated in the middle of the room to turn his or her chair around to face the
back.
Everyone saw me do
this. They all knew that it was a
pedagogical device. Even so, the
students around him or her became nervous.
In a classroom, everyone is supposed to look toward the front—so this
didn’t feel right.
The target student, however,
generally became the most uncomfortable.
This unease was so great that the impulse to comply with the norm was
nearly irresistible. Some of these poor
students veritably twitched in their seats.
In one case, a student literally
cried and then pleaded with me to relent.
Later, after the class ended, she came up to me and asked why I hated
her—which, of course, I did not. The
pain she had experienced was so excruciating that she could only imagine I had
intended to inflict this anguish.
The point is that our
emotions are communicated and can have an enormous impact. Far from being strictly personal, they
constitute a crucial element in maintaining social order. It is as if networks of emotions bind us
together and enable us to coordinate our activities.
One of the best examples of
this is morality. The rules we employ to
keep people from hurting one another are emotionally enforced. If someone violates an important standard, we
get angry. The object of our ire is then
intimidated into complying with what is expected.
Why is this important in our
current circumstances? It is because we
seem to be in the midst of a national panic.
So many things have gone wrong in our economy, social relationships and
international affairs that we are on the verge of countrywide hysteria.
Panic is an interesting
emotion. It is fear that has been raised
to the nth degree. It is fear that has
gone primitive and is no longer under rational control. When we panic, we become like infants who
don’t know how to protect ourselves. We
rush around blindly, banging into the furniture and causing additional harm.
We see the effects of this
panic at Trump and Sanders rallies.
Thousands of people come together to be assured by a compelling leader
that they will be saved. En masse, they
feel the power of their shared desires and thereby reinforce their exultation
at being rescued.
Meanwhile, outside these
events, the panic of the counter-demonstrators turns to rage and people commit
atrocities they would never even contemplate had they not felt emotionally
isolated. The intensity of their anger
is thus multiplied when backed up by a furious mob.
People in a panic do not
think straight. When watching television,
or going to the polls, their critical faculties can be turned off by feeling
part of a passionate movement.
How else do we explain the
madness that has pervaded this electoral cycle?
Who believes that Donald Trump, or Hillary Clinton, or Bernie Sanders
would make an excellent president? Even
so, we have been collectively swept up in a rush to head off a cliff.
Our emotions are
powerful. They are even more so when
joined together in a social crusade.
This makes them difficult to resist.
But, unless we come to our senses, a tragedy may lie in store. If we don’t cogently calculate what is in our
interests, we may get what no one wants.
Melvyn L. Fein, Ph.D.
Professor of Sociology
Kennesaw State University
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