In the little institute that I run at the LSE, we do a lot of social media analysis first, as well as polling with many focus groups. We try to find the common causes of concern and trauma and unarticulated frustration between different social groups. In these studies, we often find that beneath the tribalism, there’s a lot of commonality, actually, and that the tribalism is there because of unresolved trauma. From these observations, we try to find ways to initiate conversation around shared interests and experiences.
For example, we’ve been working on Ukraine a lot, which is mistakenly thought to be polarised between pro-Russian and pro-Western. People are only split that way in the propagandistic cliché. We do a lot of research trying to understand what these different groups in different parts of the country – some of whom are pro-Putin; others pro-Western – actually have in common. Very quickly, we found that the division has nothing to do with nationalism or Russia. It’s based on their experiences in the 1990s that left them emotionally shell-shocked or on unresolved issues from the late Soviet period, like the Chernobyl disaster or the Afghan war, which left them feeling that they have no dignity. Those are the issues that they really want to talk about, and those are the emotional reservoirs of concern that the propagandists play on. Propagandists will take people’s sense of chaos and inner turmoil and give it shape by saying something along the lines of: "The evil West is to blame for it all." So, our job as researchers is to go deeper than the propagandists. The same thinking we apply to imagining the media of the future, the public service media of the future, we have to apply to state institutions and courts of law. How do they engage people so that they feel that they have meaning and an agency in that relationship?