Generated Title: The Shameless Economy: When Outrage Becomes a Business Model

The Perverse Incentives of Public Shaming

The internet loves a good outrage cycle. Someone says something offensive, the digital pitchforks come out, and the "naming and shaming" begins. But what happens when the target of that shaming benefits from the attention? What happens when outrage becomes a business model?

The recent cancellation of a German auction house's sale of Holocaust artifacts provides a stark example. (The auction, titled "System of Terror, Vol. II," included letters from concentration camps and personal belongings of victims.) The International Auschwitz Committee condemned the sale as a "cynical and shameless undertaking," and rightly so. The planned auction, which included items like a postcard from Auschwitz with a starting bid of $580, highlights a disturbing trend: the commodification of tragedy. German auction house calls off ‘shameless’ sale of concentration camp artifacts

But here's the rub: the auction house initially defended the sale. Their argument, published in the Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung, was that private collectors use these items for "intensive research" and that their activity contributed to the "preservation" of memory, not the "trade in suffering." This justification, while morally bankrupt, reveals a key insight: they saw a market, and they were willing to exploit it, consequences be damned.

The question then becomes: how do we disincentivize this behavior? How do we ensure that outrage actually hurts those who deserve it, instead of lining their pockets? As "The Dissenting Opinion" points out, "naming and shaming is effective under one crucial condition — when the person has something to lose." When the "transgressor's psychology and social position" are geared towards profiting from controversy, our outrage becomes their fuel.

Re-Evaluating Our Tactics

This isn't just about auction houses. It's about the entire ecosystem of online attention. Consider the "attention grifter," the pundit or influencer whose brand is built on "performative bigotry." Calling them out, as You can’t shame the shameless | The Dissenting Opinion notes, "is not an exposé, it’s free advertisement." Kyle Rittenhouse, for instance, turned getting away with a triple homicide into a "national speaking tour." Bret Weinstein parlayed being forced to resign for his bigotry into a podcasting career.

I've seen this pattern play out countless times online. The initial outrage generates massive engagement. The "shamed" individual then uses that engagement to build a following, monetize their platform, and further amplify their message. It's a vicious cycle, and one that we, as consumers of online content, are complicit in perpetuating.

What's the alternative? The Dissenting Opinion suggests shifting our focus from individual call-outs to "bolstering mutual aid networks, organizing our workplaces, developing popular education materials and creating the structures of care and support that make our movements strong from the ground up." In other words, invest in building something positive, rather than simply tearing something down.

But let's be real: outrage is addictive. It's easy to click, share, and vent our frustration. It's much harder to engage in the slow, painstaking work of community building. So, how do we break the cycle?

One approach could be to starve the beast. Refuse to engage with content that is designed to provoke outrage. Block, mute, and unfollow. Deprive these individuals of the attention they crave. This requires a level of self-discipline that, frankly, most of us lack (myself included). But it's a necessary step if we want to create a more sane and productive online environment.

Another approach is to focus on systemic solutions. Instead of targeting individual actors, we need to address the underlying incentives that reward bad behavior. This could involve lobbying for stricter regulations on social media platforms, supporting organizations that combat online disinformation, and promoting media literacy education. (The latter is especially crucial for younger generations, who are particularly vulnerable to online manipulation.)

Price's observation is not limited to social media. All across society we are losing the ability to feel shame.

Our children shamelessly cheat in exams, refuse to do homework. Some parents shamelessly defend their actions legitimising these behaviours. They fight on the streets. Our population shamelessly like and share the videos, with little reflection on their role in contributing to a gradual decline in what is seen as socially acceptable behaviour.

Our young men (and some women) commit crimes of all nature, shamelessly. They return to their families and communities without shame. And even to welcoming arms at times because "he was a good boy."

Our politicians act without conscience and care, shamelessly running for and holding public office despite allegations of corruption and mismanagement. There has been at least one political scandal each year since 2010 (according to ChatGPT), yet the key players survive and even thrive – a case of survival of the shameless. Their diehard supporters defend their behaviour, embrace them without shame, while good governance and the country suffer.

Shaming the Shameless: A Losing Battle?

Ultimately, the fight against the "shameless economy" is a battle for our attention. Are we going to continue to reward those who profit from outrage, or are we going to invest in building a more just and equitable world? The answer, I suspect, will determine the future of our online discourse.

The Outrage Algorithm Wins Again