Why celebrating the ethical minimum hinders real change
By Dalia Ismail
When Pope Francis finally spoke with some clarity about the genocide in Palestine — using words that seemed to fully recognize the ongoing horror — many breathed a sigh of relief. Others launched into collective celebration.
But does it really take courage to say that genocide is unacceptable?
Are such statements truly enough to be treated as moral heroes?
All the more so considering that, in the immediate aftermath of October 7, 2023, the Pope — instead of unconditionally siding with the besieged, starving population, subjected for over a century to settler colonialism and ethnic cleansing — adhered to the dominant narrative, which mirrored Israeli propaganda: he spoke of Israel’s “right to defend itself” and openly condemned the Palestinians, even as the bombings in Gaza were already underway. Only later, after this premise, he mentioned the situation in Gaza, hinting that Palestinians too are victims.
His trajectory — like that of many other political leaders — followed the usual script: first the balancing act, then the language of suffering “on both sides,” and finally a step forward, but only when the catastrophe had become too evident, too dirty, too compromising even for those trying to remain verbally neutral. Only then came the openness to a call for an international investigation into Israel for genocide — but by then it was already the International Court of Justice that had declared the accusation plausible.
It is not about denying Pope Francis's stance, as he remains one of the few to speak out clearly on the Palestinian genocide. His intervention carried weight, and for the Palestinian people, it was important. But that’s exactly the point:
if such basic and human words seem extraordinary, it reveals the depth of the moral and political decay we find ourselves in.
Other leaders — political, institutional, progressive, liberal — have not spoken out as clearly, or did so much later, or not at all. And so what should be the ethical minimum appears as an epochal breakthrough. Common sense becomes a courageous act.
The right word, spoken late, becomes a merit worth celebrating — not because it is inherently powerful, but because everything else is so degrading.
And this disproportion, this imbalance in the context, is the real problem.
These are words that never question the material mechanisms of power: they do not block military agreements, do not halt supplies, do not change laws.
They produce a sense of relief, but no concrete effects.
What is happening, on a deeper level, is what French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu defined as “symbolic power”: the ability to make something appear natural, necessary, or even heroic simply because it is recognized as such. Bourdieu explains that “symbolic capital” exists only because society legitimizes it. It is the social esteem, the moral credit, granted by the observer — not by the person who speaks or acts. And when the entire context is impoverished, even a normal gesture, said with the right tone and timing, can take on a disproportionate value. This is how normality is celebrated as an exception, and the obvious as an act of defiance.
This not only distorts our perception of courage but lowers collective expectations.
Instead of demanding radical, transformative, structural positions, we get used to thanking those who — after weeks or months — find the courage to say that massacring children is wrong.
It’s a form of managed consent, of channeled dissent. An apparent balance that protects the order of things under the guise of change. As Pierre Bourdieu suggests in his analyses of symbolic power, prestige and legitimacy do not stem from the merit of a person, but because they are perceived as natural, not constructed. This is the mechanism through which symbolic capital consolidates authority, even in the absence of real actions.
When Elly Schlein and Giorgia Meloni express solidarity with the Ukrainian resistance, their words do not carry the same weight in the eyes of the public. The condemnation of Russian aggression, if spoken by Schlein, appears consistent with her symbolic capital linked to civil rights and progressive values. The same condemnation, if voiced by Meloni, is seen as instrumental and inauthentic, precisely because it clashes with other elements of her symbolic positioning: conservative and right-wing values. Prestige and credibility, therefore, are never neutral or tied to real actions: they are effective because they are perceived as spontaneous, as part of the “natural” identity of the speaker.
In this sense, when we celebrate as extraordinary gestures that barely meet the ethical minimum — like a statement by the Pope on Gaza or one by Elly Schlein on civil rights — we are simply reinforcing a balance and an imaginary we are already invested in.
Words that present themselves as change, but serve to protect the status quo. It’s a form of symbolic reassurance: generating consensus without touching the structures. It reassures. But it does not transform.
Applause for Those Who Speak Without Disturbing Too Much
Another striking case is the unified motion on Palestine promoted by Italy’s center-left. Celebrated by many pro-Palestinian circles as a “step forward,” it was treated as a political breakthrough. Yet in content, it doesn’t break with any of the ideological frameworks that enabled the horror:
it doesn’t name genocide, doesn’t acknowledge colonialism, reiterates the rhetoric of “Israel’s security,” and criminalizes resistance.
No mention of Palestinian political prisoners. It’s a text that echoes institutional, cautious, accommodating language — a formula crafted to seem firm, to soothe voter outrage about the genocide, but built precisely to avoid any real change.
This type of initiative — timid, calculated, but strongly symbolic — is media-engineered to ease collective discomfort. It’s a trick: giving the public the impression that “something is moving” to prevent them from truly demanding justice.
And precisely because they arrive late, after long silences and with great difficulty, these moves become untouchable: they cannot be criticized because “it’s already a big deal that they happened,” and we must “encourage” these figures to continue; we mustn’t risk discouraging or alienating them. The result is that we cannot say they are insufficient — even when they are — because the mere existence of the gesture becomes a value in itself, regardless of its content or effectiveness.
A similar mechanism applies to how the Democratic Party and the entire progressive wing handle civil rights. But these themes, instead of being levers for real transformation, become tools of political marketing. Elly Schlein is often portrayed as the new face of progressivism: young, feminist, lesbian, committed to civil rights struggles. But behind this image, in the political substance of the Democratic Party, little has changed.
Its economic positions remain aligned with market compatibility, full adherence to NATO, and war policies.
In the neoliberal model, even social struggles become image tools, not challenges to power. We end up debating whether a party uses inclusive language, but not whether it supports war policies. We talk about civil rights but avoid the topic of economic redistribution. We promote equal marriage but stay silent about alliances with colonial and genocidal regimes. Thus, politics focuses on reassurance, and anything that could truly change things is sidelined. It appears exaggerated. But if so little is enough to feel represented, maybe the problem isn’t those who disrupt the party — but those who settle for any party at all.
They Celebrate the Minimum to Stop Us from Demanding the Right
The damage is not only symbolic. When we celebrate the obvious as if it was revolutionary, we feed a system where the symbol of a position matters more than its effectiveness.
Once the moral anxiety is eased by a tweet, a motion, or a calibrated interview, everything returns to its place. The machine of injustice keeps running. Just more quietly.
This doesn’t happen by chance. The way media, parties, and individuals exalt certain actions — weak, late, ambiguous — serves a precise function:
managing social discomfort and containing radicalism.
The goal is to cultivate a culture of gratitude for those who speak half-truths. But the truth is that structural critique is only uncomfortable for power — not excessive.
Leggi anche
