Log in
According to sociologists, dehumanisation rarely begins with physical violence. It often emerges gradually through political and cultural narratives that redefine difference as a threat and exclude certain groups from the “moral community”. As contemporary populist rhetoric increasingly frames political disagreement in existential terms, the boundary between legitimate democratic contestation and stigmatisation of the “other” becomes dangerously blurred.
When the Other Is Not Seen as Human
“I did not see them as human… A baby smiles at you innocently, yet you take its life without mercy.”
With these disturbing words, a Hutu participant in the massacres of Tutsis in Rwanda in 1994 described to a social researcher the psychological mood that accompanied his actions, a testimony cited in Less Than Human: Why We Demean, Enslave, and Exterminate Others by the philosopher and writer David Livingstone Smith. Moreover, Smith’s work highlights a troubling insight: the denial of humanity to others rarely begins with direct acts of violence. Rather, it begins with a gradual cognitive shift through which the image of the “other” is transformed within individual perception and collective discourse.
The mass violence associated with the Rwandan genocide, therefore, cannot be understood solely as a tragic historical anomaly. It also reveals a latent potential embedded within the psychological and social dynamics of human communities. When fear converges with political power, and when political, media, cultural, or religious narratives push certain groups outside the “moral community”, processes of exclusion can intensify in ways that make empathy and dialogue increasingly difficult, if not impossible.
The Normalisation of Exclusion
This dynamic reflects a core insight in political theory: large-scale violence is rarely an abrupt process; it is usually heated by a prior moral rupture. For instance, Hannah Arendt, in her analysis of totalitarianism, showed that the greatest danger lies not only in overt brutality, but in the slow erosion of the common denominator that binds individuals together in mutual recognition and responsibility. What makes extreme violence possible is precisely this process of exclusion, through which certain groups are progressively cast outside the sphere of moral concern. In that sense, violence does not begin with weapons, but with narratives—discourses that subtly, then systematically, redefine who is entitled to be seen and treated as “fully human.”
Exploiting Fear and Uncertainty
This dynamic does not arise in isolation but reflects deeper social and political tensions that shape how fear is articulated and directed. It is within this context that the search for scapegoats becomes not only likely, but dangerously normalised.
Similarly, Zygmunt Bauman warned that modern societies often respond to uncertainty by seeking “human targets” onto whom fear and frustration can be projected. In times of political anxiety, this temptation becomes particularly strong.
Populist rhetoric taps into this dynamic by simplifying complex social problems and assigning blame to clearly identifiable “others”. In doing so, it transforms political disagreement into a moral confrontation between supposedly “virtuous” people and the enemies it constructs.
In many Western democracies, the resurgence of populist movements has been accompanied by growing pressure on democratic institutions and norms. Independent bodies such as the judiciary, the media, and civil society organisations are sometimes portrayed not as essential pillars of democratic accountability, but as obstacles to the supposed will of “the people”.
At the same time, immigrants and minority groups frequently become easy targets of political blame, depicted as threats to cultural cohesion or economic stability.
While the contexts differ, echoes of this dynamic can also be observed in Tunisia. The Populist narrative occasionally frames political opponents, civil society actors, or culturally “undesirable” groups not simply as participants in democratic debate, but as dangers to national integrity or social cohesion. Such rhetoric may initially appear symbolic. Yet, as many sociologists have observed, the normalisation of exclusionary language can gradually reshape public perception and weaken the pluralistic foundations upon which democratic life depends.
The Erosion of Democratic Norms
Dehumanisation is therefore not merely an abstract analytical concept, but a social process with profound political consequences. When narratives of fear and exclusion become normalised within public discourse, the erosion of democratic norms and civic trust often follows. Populist rhetoric, by framing difference as a threat to collective identity, risks accelerating this process.
In other words, the danger lies not only in the existence of hate speech, but in its gradual normalisation. Societies rarely collapse into exclusion and violence overnight; rather, they slip incrementally into fear, suspicion, and moral indifference. Each small shift in language, each repeated gesture of othering, lays another brick in the wall that divides citizens from one another.
A Choice Between Dignity and Fear
The challenge, therefore, is not merely political, but civic and ethical: to resist narratives that transform difference into hostility and to reaffirm the principle that citizenship rests on equal dignity rather than ideological conformity. Societies (and mainly elites) are thus faced with a stark choice: confront the monster of dehumanisation before it takes root and spreads, embedding hatred and mistrust in the daily fabric of public life, or allow exclusion and fear to calcify into habits that shape not only the present, but the generations to come. The former requires vigilance, courage, and a commitment to human dignity; the latter ensures a society weakened, fractured, and incapable of sustaining the very freedoms it claims to protect.
Messaoud Romdhani is a Tunisian Human Rights activist, former president of the Tunisian Forum for Economic and Social Rights, former vice president of the Tunisian Human Rights League.
