Moral Panic as Self-Rebranding

Written By Shanenn Maher

From Ritual to Reel: The Historical Arc of Public Panic

Historically, moral panics were communal crises. They erupted in response to perceived threats to the social order—witches, heretics, lepers, immigrants, revolutionaries. Sociologist Stanley Cohen, in his seminal 1972 work Folk Devils and Moral Panics, outlined how media, authority figures, and mass hysteria conspire to exaggerate or invent societal threats. But these panics were also ritualistic. Anthropologist Victor Turner described such events as liminal moments—thresholds where social norms are suspended and new structures emerge.

In many cultures, such disruptions were followed by purification rites, scapegoating rituals, or public shaming—mechanisms meant to restore order. These rituals served both symbolic and psychological functions. They clarified group boundaries and reinforced collective values. They also gave voice to fears too large or chaotic to name directly.

Today, these rituals persist—but they've been digitized. And the consequences have changed.

The Digital Megaphone: Algorithmic Incentives and Emotional Projection

Social media platforms are not neutral spaces; they are profit-driven infrastructures that privilege engagement, emotion, and exposure. The louder and more sensational the content, the more likely it is to circulate. This creates an environment where panic—especially moral panic—becomes not only possible, but profitable.

Enter the digital vigilante, the influencer-guru, the emotional truth-teller. Often, these figures perform outrage not as an act of justice, but as a means of reclaiming control. When power slips—whether through professional loss, social exclusion, or psychological crisis—moral panic becomes a way to rewrite the narrative. As sociologist Erving Goffman might say, it becomes a new performance of the self.

But beneath the performance is often a deeper instability. In the realm of anthropology, we refer to this as symbolic aggression—a phenomenon where individuals, feeling socially displaced, use narrative and morality to reassert dominance or coherence. It is not healing. It is strategic.

Public Catharsis or Private Collapse?

Psychologically, these digital outbursts may resemble what Freud once called “acting out”—a compulsion to repeat rather than reflect. But in the age of visibility, this acting out is amplified. The individual performs their suffering or righteousness for an imagined audience, hoping to regain a sense of control, to shame those who have rejected them, or to feel important again.

In anthropological terms, we might see this as a breakdown in the function of traditional rites of passage. The digital stage offers no clear resolution, no true reintegration. The outrage loops. The identity calcifies. And the community—if there ever was one—fractures into spectators and sides.

This is not to dismiss the reality of harm, nor to suggest that public critique is inherently performative. But when personal vendettas masquerade as social justice, and when instability hides behind righteousness, we risk turning moral discourse into spectacle.

Conclusion? Choose Awareness, Not Reaction

What would it mean to step away from the algorithmic altar? To see moral panic not as truth, but as ritual—one that can either clarify or corrupt?

As an anthropologist, I believe in the power of storytelling, of visibility, of public reckoning. But I also believe in silence, in contemplation, in not taking the bait.

The next time you witness an eruption of digital outrage, ask yourself: Is this panic protecting someone’s truth—or hiding their fear?

In the algorithmic age, even morality has a marketing strategy. Don’t be its product.

Shanenn Maher
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