Who will guard the speakers ? Soft targets and the crisis of public reason
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Homen Thangjam
My office, lined with books, has always been a sanctuary for reasoned debate. Stepping into the public square—through symposia, seminars. op-eds, television panels, or social media—once felt like a natural extension of that duty : to engage, to challenge, and to contribute to the collective understanding of our society. For years, I believed the most significant risk in this endeavour was being proven wrong. I was naïve. The greater danger, I have since learnt, is not disagreement but hate; not counter-arguments but threats.
We are branded with derisive nicknames, carica- tured as corrupt beneficiaries of political patronage. It is a charge deployed with particular venom, as if every academic or commentator were a covert agent of some faction. The insinuation is moral as much as political: a betrayal of public trust, even when there is no popular government to serve. This is not criticism; it is a calculated attempt to poison the well of public perception before a single argument can be made.
Like countless other academics, journalists, and writers, I have become what security experts call a “soft target”. We are visible, our names and faces are public, and our professional duty demands that they remain so. We lack the defences of high walls, private security, or institutional anonymity. That visibility, once a civic virtue, is now weaponised in the digital realm by those who hide behind fabricated identities.
The impact on one’s peace of mind is corrosive and insidious. It seldom begins with a single outra- geous threat, but with a constant, low-grade hum of hostility. Opening a notification becomes an act of psychological roulette. Will it be a thoughtful critique, a mindless slur, or a vivid fantasy of violence ? The mind, in self-defense, starts to rewire itself. You scan crowds not for familiar faces but for potential threats. A car idling too long outside your home, once ignored, now triggers a pulse of anxiety. The boundary between public persona and private life becomes increasingly blurred. Family, home, and safety become data points in a troll’s campaign of intimidation.
This is not a plea for sympathy; it is a diagnosis of a mechanism. The goal of such harassment is not to win an argument, reason its enemy, but to exhaust, to intimidate, and ultimately, to silence. It is a calculated tax on participation in public life. When the price of expressing a measured or dissenting view becomes this constant assault on one’s mental equilibrium, the rational response for many is withdrawal. Why step into the square if the price is to have rocks hurled from the shadows ?
Herein lies the graver societal peril. Should this trend continue unchecked, our public discourse will be systematically hollowed out. The voices that remain will be the most strident, the most partisan, the most armoured. Nuance, empathy, and objectivity will be driven to the margins. With them, we will lose the essential dialectic that allows a society to correct its course. Into this intellectual vacuum, communalism and ethnic hatred will readily flow. For when reasoned analysis is silenced, the void is filled by raw, unchallenged prejudice. The “other” is no longer a subject for understanding but a caricature to be despised, and the voices that could complicate this narrative are no longer there to be heard.
If we fail to protect those who speak in good faith under their own names, we will soon find the public square empty, dark, and governed by those who only know how to hate from the shadows. The ensuing silence will be deafening: a prelude to a far more violent noise.
The question is therefore urgent : who will stem this erosion of public reason ? The responsibility is tripartite, demanding a concerted effort from the platforms that host our discourse, the State sworn to protect its citizens, and the public who constitute our digital civil society.
First, the platforms. Social media companies can no longer hide behind the legal fiction of being mere conduits rather than active publishers. This is a dereliction of their civic duty. Having architected the modern town square, they are obligated to prevent its destruction by masked arso- nists. This requires a serious investment in human moderation, more sophisticated AI to identify coordinated harassment, and the consistent and transparent enforce- ment of their own standards. Yet, we must confront an uncomfortable truth : the lexicon of hate is culturally and linguistically agile. Harassers deploy local idioms, slang, and coded insults that easily evade English-centric moderation systems, creating a profound asymmetry: the target feels the menace viscerally. At the same time, the platform’s algorithms remain oblivious. Anonymity can be a shield for the vulnerable. Still, when wielded as a weapon by the malicious across hundreds of languages, it creates a crisis that technology alone cannot solve.
Yet the burden cannot rest solely on corporations. Where digital threats breed tangible fear, the State must emerge from the analog age and fulfill its most fundamental role.
Second, the State and its institutions. Law enforcement must finally recognise that online threats are genuine threats. A death threat in a tweet is not a virtual artifact; it is a promise of violence that generates authentic terror. Specialised cyber units must be adequately trained, resourced, and empowered to investigate and prosecute these offenses. Furthermore, universities and other public institutions must bolster their support for targeted staff, providing not only digital and legal assistance but also essential psychological care.
Ultimately, the most potent antidote may be neither technological nor legal, but cultural: a shift championed by civil society itself.
Finally, the wider public. We must collectively shift the stigma from the victim to the perpetrator. Cultivating a culture of solidarity is vital : it means calling out harassment when we see it, publicly supporting those who are targeted, and rejecting the cynical notion that such abuse is “just the price of admission” to public life. This also entails championing and funding local, linguistically-grounded initiatives that are uniquely positioned to counter hate within their own digital communities.
The silencing of soft targets is not a question of hurt feelings. It is an assault on the foundations of liberal democracy: on reason, dialogue, and the very idea of shared truth. If we fail to protect those who speak with integrity and in their own names within the public square, we will soon find that square empty, darkened, and ruled by those who know only how to hate from the shadows. The silence that follows will be deafening; and it will herald a far more violent noise.
My office, lined with books, has always been a sanctuary for reasoned debate. Stepping into the public square—through symposia, seminars. op-eds, television panels, or social media—once felt like a natural extension of that duty : to engage, to challenge, and to contribute to the collective understanding of our society. For years, I believed the most significant risk in this endeavour was being proven wrong. I was naïve. The greater danger, I have since learnt, is not disagreement but hate; not counter-arguments but threats.
We are branded with derisive nicknames, carica- tured as corrupt beneficiaries of political patronage. It is a charge deployed with particular venom, as if every academic or commentator were a covert agent of some faction. The insinuation is moral as much as political: a betrayal of public trust, even when there is no popular government to serve. This is not criticism; it is a calculated attempt to poison the well of public perception before a single argument can be made.
Like countless other academics, journalists, and writers, I have become what security experts call a “soft target”. We are visible, our names and faces are public, and our professional duty demands that they remain so. We lack the defences of high walls, private security, or institutional anonymity. That visibility, once a civic virtue, is now weaponised in the digital realm by those who hide behind fabricated identities.
The impact on one’s peace of mind is corrosive and insidious. It seldom begins with a single outra- geous threat, but with a constant, low-grade hum of hostility. Opening a notification becomes an act of psychological roulette. Will it be a thoughtful critique, a mindless slur, or a vivid fantasy of violence ? The mind, in self-defense, starts to rewire itself. You scan crowds not for familiar faces but for potential threats. A car idling too long outside your home, once ignored, now triggers a pulse of anxiety. The boundary between public persona and private life becomes increasingly blurred. Family, home, and safety become data points in a troll’s campaign of intimidation.
This is not a plea for sympathy; it is a diagnosis of a mechanism. The goal of such harassment is not to win an argument, reason its enemy, but to exhaust, to intimidate, and ultimately, to silence. It is a calculated tax on participation in public life. When the price of expressing a measured or dissenting view becomes this constant assault on one’s mental equilibrium, the rational response for many is withdrawal. Why step into the square if the price is to have rocks hurled from the shadows ?
Herein lies the graver societal peril. Should this trend continue unchecked, our public discourse will be systematically hollowed out. The voices that remain will be the most strident, the most partisan, the most armoured. Nuance, empathy, and objectivity will be driven to the margins. With them, we will lose the essential dialectic that allows a society to correct its course. Into this intellectual vacuum, communalism and ethnic hatred will readily flow. For when reasoned analysis is silenced, the void is filled by raw, unchallenged prejudice. The “other” is no longer a subject for understanding but a caricature to be despised, and the voices that could complicate this narrative are no longer there to be heard.
If we fail to protect those who speak in good faith under their own names, we will soon find the public square empty, dark, and governed by those who only know how to hate from the shadows. The ensuing silence will be deafening: a prelude to a far more violent noise.
The question is therefore urgent : who will stem this erosion of public reason ? The responsibility is tripartite, demanding a concerted effort from the platforms that host our discourse, the State sworn to protect its citizens, and the public who constitute our digital civil society.
First, the platforms. Social media companies can no longer hide behind the legal fiction of being mere conduits rather than active publishers. This is a dereliction of their civic duty. Having architected the modern town square, they are obligated to prevent its destruction by masked arso- nists. This requires a serious investment in human moderation, more sophisticated AI to identify coordinated harassment, and the consistent and transparent enforce- ment of their own standards. Yet, we must confront an uncomfortable truth : the lexicon of hate is culturally and linguistically agile. Harassers deploy local idioms, slang, and coded insults that easily evade English-centric moderation systems, creating a profound asymmetry: the target feels the menace viscerally. At the same time, the platform’s algorithms remain oblivious. Anonymity can be a shield for the vulnerable. Still, when wielded as a weapon by the malicious across hundreds of languages, it creates a crisis that technology alone cannot solve.
Yet the burden cannot rest solely on corporations. Where digital threats breed tangible fear, the State must emerge from the analog age and fulfill its most fundamental role.
Second, the State and its institutions. Law enforcement must finally recognise that online threats are genuine threats. A death threat in a tweet is not a virtual artifact; it is a promise of violence that generates authentic terror. Specialised cyber units must be adequately trained, resourced, and empowered to investigate and prosecute these offenses. Furthermore, universities and other public institutions must bolster their support for targeted staff, providing not only digital and legal assistance but also essential psychological care.
Ultimately, the most potent antidote may be neither technological nor legal, but cultural: a shift championed by civil society itself.
Finally, the wider public. We must collectively shift the stigma from the victim to the perpetrator. Cultivating a culture of solidarity is vital : it means calling out harassment when we see it, publicly supporting those who are targeted, and rejecting the cynical notion that such abuse is “just the price of admission” to public life. This also entails championing and funding local, linguistically-grounded initiatives that are uniquely positioned to counter hate within their own digital communities.
The silencing of soft targets is not a question of hurt feelings. It is an assault on the foundations of liberal democracy: on reason, dialogue, and the very idea of shared truth. If we fail to protect those who speak with integrity and in their own names within the public square, we will soon find that square empty, darkened, and ruled by those who know only how to hate from the shadows. The silence that follows will be deafening; and it will herald a far more violent noise.