Broadway musicals are not renowned for their satirical bite, but 2018’s The Prom is a welcome exception.
In the show, five unemployed New York actors latch on to the cause of a young queer woman in Indiana, forbidden from taking her girlfriend to their high school graduation dance.
Cliched Broadway belter Dee Dee Allen crashes a parent-teacher meeting because “I read three-quarters of a news story and knew I had to come”. She warns the “bigoted monsters” before her: “Stealing the rights of a girl who is an LGBQ teen/I’ve been far too angry to Google what those letters mean.”
Her song – It’s Not About Me – sets up the show’s theme: the human cost of our modern-day culture wars. As delivered by Meryl Streep in the Netflix film adaptation, the song is an anthem to what German philosopher Philip Hübl calls the “morality spectacle”.
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Morality is a society’s way of categorising intentions, decision and actions into those considered right and proper or improper and wrong.
Supercharged and scrambled by social media, however, very real and very serious tragedies, injustices and grievances are dropped into a hyperreal hall of morality mirrors.
We’ve no shortage of recent examples: Je suis Charlie, #MeToo, Black Lives Matter and Trans rights. Morality spectacles flatten important and complex arguments, says Hübl, then drench everything in emotional, judgmental morality-speak.
Serious wrongs are rarely righted, he writes, but co-opted instead “as a symbol of status and group membership; as a weapon to exert power and influence; or to protect oneself against attacks and pressure of others”.
Hübl, a Berlin-based academic, struck a nerve with his bestseller about how self-serving morality spectacles are dangerous if they cause people to tune out of important issues.
The costs of expressing an opinion in this social context are so high
— German philosopher Philip Hübl
It’s a 21st-century take on the oldest of human needs: status. Where others seek status through power, wealth or sex appeal, morality spectacles are attractive to people seeking more indirect approval from their peers.
What makes the morality spectacle unique, Hübl argues, is how the moraliser, with their public outrage, can immunise themselves against criticism:
“If I go to someone and say ‘maybe it’s a bit exaggerated, that claim of yours that the police force has been infiltrated by the far right’, then they can say, ‘why are you not against the far right?’”
Hübl points out how the majority in the middle is often silenced by extreme arguments from the moral minorities on the fringes, undermining freedom of speech from below.
“The costs of expressing an opinion in this social context are so high,” Hübl argues, “because I cannot just say what I think. I have to factor in, too, being attacked and often strategically misunderstood.”
The modern day morality spectacle was spawned on social media platforms, programmed to weaponise – and monetise – the emotions that humans are programmed to perceive more strongly: negative ones.
Hate keeps people hooked online and coming back for more, generating more user data for Meta and X to sell. The corrosive effect on public discourse is, for them, a regrettable byproduct.
Countless causes and groups have learned the hard way how embracing social media, to boost attention and support, can attract activist “allies” who morph their campaigns into an online battle of outrage, buzzwords and social media badges – before moving on.
Beyond permanent outrage, there are other telltale signs for a morality spectacle. One is the prevalence of first-person pronouns, shifting debate away from the issue itself to simplistic, personal consternation. Another clue: watch for hectoring imperatives such as “we must”. Must we?
A final morality spectacle giveaway, with thanks to The Prom, is if someone insists “it’s not about me”.
The rise of the morality spectacle has added to the difficulties of navigating the minefield that has opened up since October 7th, 2023 – in particular between Germany and Ireland.
After decades of agreement on almost everything, Dublin and Berlin found themselves at opposite ends of the political spectrum since the Hamas-led attacks on Israel two years ago – and the ongoing humanitarian disaster of Gaza since.
Dublin came out loud and early to condemn the October 7th attacks, demand the return of hostages and call for an end to Israel’s war on Hamas that has left the civilian population facing unspeakable degradations of hunger, disease, destitution and death.
Things have been more complicated here in Germany. Berlin has been less pronounced. In the early days, in particular, the largest loss of Jewish life since the Holocaust triggered something deep in the collective German soul.
The grandchildren of Nazi-era perpetrators and bystanders renewed their country’s postwar vow to stand by Israel, delivering about €485 million worth of arms. With less fanfare, they deployed officials to the region who spent 18 months trying – and largely failing – to negotiate with Israel and get large quantities of humanitarian aid past its checkpoints and into Gaza.
While the desperate humanitarian situation in Gaza has prompted a gradual rethink in some quarters and paralysis in others, a minority group has ramped up their morality spectacle.
It began early on with a McCarthy-like campaign against those who disagreed with the logic of the Netanyahu government’s Gaza war strategy. Critics were defamed as anti-Semites by Germans who struggle to understand Jews as heterogeneous group with diverse views – particularly on Israel.
US-born, Berlin-based writer Deborah Feldman was feted on German talkshows for her plain-speaking – until she asked whether Jews “exist purely as a German projection”.
Many Germans were silenced, contracts cancelled and reputations smeared – including, curiously, a leading German authority on anti-Semitism and genocide.
Almost two years in, the anti-Semitism cudgel has become worryingly blunt through over-use and public opinion in Germany has drifted away from the official line.
Just 16 per cent of Germans now view Netanyahu’s Israel as a trustworthy partner, a historic low, while only 36 per cent think its history means Germany has a special obligation to the country.
Instead of a rethink, ruling Christian Democratic Union (CDU) MPs such as Roderich Kiesewetter double down on such poll numbers as proof Germans are falling for Hamas’s “cognitive warfare ... and the reversal of perpetrator and victim roles”.
A leading light of Germany’s post-October 7th morality spectacle is the conservative Springer media group. Its Bild tabloid has consistently declined to print images from inside Gaza, but is quick to denounce collectively as “Jew haters” all marchers at Palestinian solidarity demonstrations.
These public gatherings – banned for a time in Berlin – are perhaps the most visible and problematic fault line in Germany’s morality spectacle.
From the beginning, Irish and other marchers have complained of arbitrary violence from the police.
Recent video footage of a police officer punching Berlin-based Irish campaigner Kitty O’Brien in the face prompted outrage in Germany and Ireland.
That case – in particular the footage – could trigger an interesting series of courtroom showdowns.
In particular it could force German police and politicians to address long-term complaints about their use of violence, and lack of independent oversight.
Who marched for us, for our human rights? No one
— Magdalene laundries surv
Meanwhile O’Brien and other Irish campaigners in Berlin will, if this goes to court, have an opportunity to explain what they see as systematic oppression of legitimate protest.
[ We were shocked but not surprised by the assault on my sister Kitty O’BrienOpens in new window ]
In a courtroom setting they can explain, too, the importance of their use of the Irish language in their Berlin solidarity protests for Gaza, shut down by police for breaching public order rules.
The same applies to a separate case, where two other Irish activists are facing removal over their role in a riot at a Berlin university last year. Prosecutors will have to produce evidence to back up police claims the two were part of a group that stormed a building with axes and crowbars, intimidating staff members who later required counselling.
Despite the official line on Israel-Gaza, there is growing differentiation and a palpable shift in Germany.
After a crackdown on activists and their use of slogans in 2024, German courts have begun pushing back against executive overreach. The Irish cases could provide further correctives to Germany’s morality spectacle.
But amid the outrage in Ireland over crackdowns in Germany, it’s worth noting the complex and charged atmosphere in which it is all taking place.
Berlin has the largest Palestinian diaspora community outside the Middle East and many Palestine solidarity marches – m ore than 1,000 in Berlin alone since October 2023 – attract a huge number and range of people.
Amid Palestinian families and Irish activists are some groups whose targeted provocations, slogans and symbols deliver an excuse for heavy-handed police response on all.
Parallel to Germany’s anti-Semitism witch hunt, meanwhile, Germany post-October 7th has seen a real and worrying surge in anti-Semitic sentiment and attacks – with perpetrators from both the native German population and migrant communities. The latter, meanwhile, warn of official apathy about the growing hostility and violence towards them.
It’s worth noting how different morality spectacles look from a distance.
Some Irish living in Germany, though troubled by their adoptive homeland in the last years, are puzzled by the country they left.
As elsewhere, Ireland’s Gaza debate is shaped by human feelings of despair, outrage and powerlessness over how to stop this historic disaster.
Looking in from outside, they appear to exert considerable influence on what is and isn’t being said in Ireland, which, in turn, is shaping the reputation of Irish people worldwide: welcome in some quarters, denounced in others. Those of us living outside of Ireland are feeling this already.
And on visits back to Ireland, it’s striking how many friends and strangers speak privately on what they don’t dare say in public, on everything from Kneecap to President Michael D Higgins to Hamas.
Another angry group are the survivors of Catholic Ireland’s Magdalene laundries, mother and baby homes and industrial schools.
After all the petitions and marches for Gaza, one survivor said in a recent phone call: “Who marched for us, for our human rights? No one.”
Anyone tempted to denounce this as whataboutery is welcome to go a round with survivors about their ordeal back then and their continuing battles now for outstanding pensions, medical cards and memorials.
Finally, it’s worth considering how Ireland earns about a quarter of its tax income from US tech firms based on the island.
Ireland is responsible for two regulators of data collection and content of X, TikTok and Facebook/Instagram across Europe. Ireland is the front-line social media police for algorithms that decide what you see, including fake news and hate speech.
Amid the outrage over German arms for Israel, how is Ireland faring in managing these tools of modern information warfare?
Next time you check your social media timeline, take a deep breath and ask: cui bono – who benefits? – from the latest morality spectacle. Emotionalised me-ology hinders rather than helps public debate, distracts from the real issues and simply lines the already heaving pockets of US tech billionaires.
