In outrage we trust (though hypocrisy is a must)

It is 44 BC Rome. A crowd has gathered at “the forum” for the funeral of slain general Julius Caesar. Brutus, assassin and key conspirator, attempts to justify the murder. Caesar was ambitious, he explains. Not doing away with him would’ve meant enslavement of Romans. The crowd is convinced with Brutus’s theory. They cheer him for his supposed noble deed; even demand a statue in his honour.

In comes Mark Antony; pained by the sight of the lifeless body of his beloved friend, but cautious in his approach amidst a crowd that favours Brutus. He begins by saying he had only “come to bury Caesar and not to praise him.” But praise is exactly what he does. Using his oratory skills, Antony manipulates the crowd to such an extent that he has them in tears. In a matter of a few minutes, the mob goes from demanding a statue for Brutus to demanding his blood. At least that’s how William Shakespeare depicted it. That was Shakespeare’s version of ancient Rome. But the fickle minds of Roman plebeians perhaps represent an inherent flaw in our nature even today. We too, tend to forget far too quickly. We forget as easily as we get influenced. There are numerous incidents that suggest the same.

The Mocambo incident

Mocambo, a fine-dine restaurant in Kolkata, was at the centre of controversy in September last year. A certain Dilashi Hemnani, who was a visitor in the city, was allegedly denied entry because she wanted to grab a quick lunch with her driver. The manager had remarked that the “shabby clothes” of her companion was a hindrance to the comfort of other diners. In today’s world, where social media dominates every walk of life, incidents don’t stay hidden for long. And Ms. Hemnani was certainly not going to let this one go unheard. One detailed Facebook post, and the world came down on Mocambo. Shared thousands of times by “concerned netizens”, the incident became the talk of every tea-table discussion in Kolkata. Foodies vowed to never set foot in that “chamber of elitist discrimination.” People decried the restaurant’s alleged transgression on Facebook, while probably being driven around the city by underpaid cab drivers. The local social media space had found its favourite villain for the time being. Zomato readily turned into a war zone. The restaurant’s ratings swiftly went downhill after a chain reaction of hateful reviews and posts. People who had never even visited the restaurant posted reviews of how bad the food tasted, or how slow the service was. Some even went so far as to make new accounts just to rant. Zomato tried its best to take down these dubious accounts. Users, however, responded by threatening to uninstall. This was probably an earlier microcosm of the more recent Snapchat row. But what did all that outrage eventually lead to? Was Mocambo closed down? Did all that negative publicity lighten their pockets? No. Not one bit. The restaurant retained its regular clientele after a few days. There was the usual rush on the weekends. Long queues were seen outside its doors during every festivity; right from Durga Puja to New Year’s Day. Even ratings on Zomato are now back to their usual highs. All that early disgust has seemingly faded into normalcy. Condemnation on social media couldn’t manifest into actual refrain on the ground. The storm of outrage was over in a month. Now it’s sunny days again for the Park Street restaurant. And to think that Mocambo didn’t even tender an apology, only throws light on the short lives of our concerns.

The fickle-minded crowd

The netizens of Kolkata are probably a very good sample size for a larger mindset problem in the country. Numerous incidents have just lost their way through social media pages. Remember Abhijeet Bhattacharya’s dog comment? Well it would not be much of a surprise if you don’t. When the media was abuzz with Salman Khan’s ongoing hit and run case, Abhijeet had quite spitefully tweeted that if one sleeps like a dog on the streets, he should be killed like a dog. Not just distasteful, it’s outright nauseating. He did have to face a lot of flak for that nasty tweet; few tense interviews on some news channels; condemnation from other celebs too. But where’s all that gone now? Over a million Twitteratis now regard him as some kind of upholder of nationalism, or maybe a “true Indian.” Why? Probably because he tweets “Bharat Mata ki Jay” once every two days. Yes, that’s what “patriotism” has been reduced to unfortunately. You don’t necessarily need to work to make a difference. Neither do you need to make sacrifices or save lives. All you need is slogans, and some choice expletives for media outlets not run by Arnab Goswami. And bang!! You are the Bhagat Singh of social media. People will readily forget about all that bile one had secreted online not too long ago. Even those that bashed Salman Khan for allegedly taking the lives of those poor souls seemed to readily forget how their favourite nationalist made a rank mockery of their death. But that’s how the outrage machinery works in today’s world. Fury, engendered by offence, traverses minds along with trending news. People always find something new to unleash their wrath on. And with each new issue, the former loses attention. Collective conscience has taken the form of a burette. With new info pouring in, old concerns quickly trickle down the tap. Speaking up for causes seems valid only on the online world, because it’s easy to find echo chambers here that reverberate those temporary emotions. Concrete activism has been relegated to a much softer form; a form that is palpable only on Facebook and Twitter. But this keyboard activism comes to an abrupt stop whenever a new narrative is put forward. And any narrative that comes with the gift wrapping of supposed nationalism is like Mark Antony’s oration. It’s an immediate clincher. Emotional gullibility is perhaps what makes us so indifferent to causes we seem to once endear. But what can you do? When the memory is weak, manipulation is not a very difficult task. So till then “Friends, Indians, countrymen,” keep eating your almonds.