There is no need to prove the facts; a reconstructed reality is sufficient. Beyond Naza

In his famous book "After Virtue", Alasdair MacIntyre devotes considerable space to the concept of emotivism, a state in which a moral code claims to preserve its solemnity intact whilst progressively losing the ability to rationally justify its assertions. From this perspective, we continue to say that one thing is right and another is intolerable, but we no longer have a shared conception of the good from which to demonstrate why one value should take precedence over another. This does not simply mean, as might be assumed, that we have become more emotional (though that is also true). It signifies something more interesting – and worrying – namely that behind the façade of universal judgements lie preferences that are by no means universal.

For MacIntyre, such an absence of a shared conception of the good is typical of the moral condition of contemporary society; and this does not entail, as one might naively imagine, greater tolerance or prudence, but rather makes the clash between different perceptions of reality – and therefore of right and wrong – all the more fierce. For if I cannot convince you that my aim is better than yours, I shall try to secure your consent in another way: by organising information, appealing to emotions, and imposing moral categories capable of determining in advance who should be on the side of good and who on the side of evil.

The paradox is that, viewed from this perspective, we do not live in a world where everything is of equal value (complete relativism!), but in a world where the preference that emotionally manages to garner the greatest consensus imposes itself as an incontrovertible truth. This is also why contemporary public debate has developed an obsession with fake news, post-truth, disinformation and cognitive bubbles – provided, of course, that they concern others. We have become highly sophisticated epistemologists when a news story confirms our opponents’ prejudices, yet surprisingly gullible when it confirms our own.

For years, hatred has been portrayed as one of the great social evils of our time, something to be monitored and expelled from public discourse. Any political party – usually on the right – that uses strong language is accused of ‘inciting hatred’, and is therefore readily labelled as fascist, Nazi, and so on. Except that hatred, like almost everything else, seems to become morally acceptable when it is directed in the ‘correct’ directionAt that point, it is no longer called hatred, but ‘indignation’. Contempt becomes ‘civil conscience’, demonisation becomes ‘testimony’, and hostility becomes proof of our ‘humanity’.

Emotivism thus finds one of its most perfect manifestations, for if the good coincides with my moral disposition, then even what I would normally regard as reprehensible can be redeemed by the nobility of the end. I can hate without considering myself a hateful person, provided I am convinced that I am doing so for the right cause. I can indulge in simplification, generalisation, even lies, because what really matters is no longer the relationship between what I say and what is, but the moral terrain within which I have chosen to position myself.

It is hard to find a clearer example of this these days than the reception given to "Naza". The documentary makes extremely serious allegations against Israel, drawing on testimonies (anonymous and unverifiable!) from military personnel and intelligence officials. The Israeli army has systematically refuted every single aspect of that propaganda film. There is therefore a factual dispute, which should demand precisely the sort of caution we call for every day when discussing disinformation. Yet, amongst a very ‘influential’ section of public opinion, the appalling accusation of indiscriminate firing on civilians – which is entirely unverified – has almost immediately been treated as an established fact. This occurs because the film’s narrative aligns all too neatly with what a certain Western moral conscience already wishes to believe about Israel. No proof is deemed necessary; it is enough to see oneself reflected in a reconstructed reality that one hoped would be true. Fiction? Reality? It does not matter; what counts is that it reflects our moral sentiment. And the noble souls, who have made opposition to hatred their creed, can finally allow themselves – on the pretence of morality, and endorsed by a film they mutually recognise as authentic – their well-deserved share of hatred, yet with a clear conscience, towards ‘the Other’ (Israel, of course!).