Beyond Othering

Reweaving Our Social Bonds After Upheaval

Societies, like threads, are woven together by the implicit bonds of shared narrative and mutual recognition. But there are moments—upheavals—when this fabric is not merely strained, but torn 💔. These are the crises that force us to re-examine not only our allegiances but the very nature of our selfhood, our relationships, and our responsibility to one another. To understand our present unraveling, we must look to the ghosts of the past 🔎, to moments when the threads were violently pulled apart. The Red Scare in 1950s America is one such haunting.

In the fever pitch of Cold War paranoia, the United States didn’t simply have political opponents; it manufactured a new category of human being: the communist "other." This designation, often marked with the societal equivalent of a "Scarlet C" 🔴, was not just a political label but a profound act of social and psychological exile. The philosophical weight of this act can be understood through the lens of thinkers who explored the very concept of the other. For Jean-Paul Sartre, the "look" (le regard) of the Other is what transforms us from free subjects into objects. In the Red Scare, the collective societal gaze—suspicious, interrogating, and unforgiving—functioned as a tribunal, freezing individuals in the public mind as “un-American.” To be blackballed ⛔ was to be trapped in this objectified state, stripped of one's agency and authentic being.

This collective objectification was reinforced by the Lacanian concept of the Symbolic Order. The "Scarlet C" was a signifier, a word with the power to erase an entire self from the accepted social script. To be labeled a communist was to be cast out of the very language of normalcy, denied entry into the professional and personal circles that define a life. The terror of this exile was not only for those who were blackballed but also for those who remained. For Martin Heidegger, true being is Mitsein, or "being-with" others. But in an atmosphere of pervasive fear, this "being-with" becomes inauthentic. We succumb to the "they-self" (das Man), the anonymous, public opinion of what "they" do, what "they" think. To assist a blackballed friend would be to defy this public self, risking one's own authentic existence for a truly selfless act. The fear of being seen as "one of them" drives complicity.

This fear gives rise to a powerful, two-pronged guilt. The societal guilt of association—of being tarnished by proximity to the other—is a public mark. But this public fear is mirrored by a more insidious, personal guilt. The act of turning away from a friend, a colleague, or a family member in their moment of crisis creates a moral chasm within the self. We may justify our actions as necessary for survival, but in doing so, we reinforce a deep-seated belief that we were not worthy enough, not brave enough, not good enough to do the right thing. The stress and emotional toll were found equally in the life of the victim and in the silent, anxious life of the accomplice. Those who were eventually rehabilitated could heal, but the psychological scars of moral compromise often never fully faded.

The question for us, today in 2025, is whether we see these same patterns emerging in our own fractured societal landscape. While the specific labels have changed, the mechanics of creating and exiling "the other" remain eerily similar. Ideological divides become impassable chasms, and to cross them in support of a friend or a belief is to risk a form of social blackballing. Our personal relations are now forged and tested on the anvil of these public divides. The necessity of increased resistance for those who stand against the tide places a crushing burden on their relationships, forcing friends and family to choose. Can these relationships survive such pressure? Can the bonds of shared history and affection withstand the weight of societal judgment and the fear of personal complicity?

The answer lies not in a new set of rules for engagement, but in a new vision for what we can be after the storm has passed 🌪️. This upheaval, born of human fear and division, will eventually come to an end. It is caused by people, and it will be ended by people. The most powerful act of critical thinking and action we can perform is to begin, now, to envision the world we want to inhabit once the crisis subsides and to form our relationships accordingly.

Yes, some of us are stronger 💪, and some are weaker; a crisis only magnifies these differences. But our post-crisis society must be one of reconciliation, not of further division. We must find an approach that relies on the leaders among us—the defiers who model courage—and fosters support for those who stand on the side, quietly and passively assisting. Most importantly, we must perform a radical form of damage control for the group who are too weak, and therefore succumb to collusion. They are not irredeemable traitors, but equal members of our society who succumbed to immense pressure. We must create a space for their return, not out of naive forgiveness, but out of a shared understanding of the human condition in moments of crisis. The ultimate act of resistance is not just to stand up for ourselves, but to ensure that the threads of our shared fabric are re-woven to include everyone who was a part of its unraveling 🤝.