14.06.2006
Inquiry is subverted by three types of secret. There are personal secrets: sensitive matters that are known by one person and one person only. There are closed secrets, which are shared by more than one person but are carefully guarded by the group. These “skeletons in the closet” don’t become widely known without personal betrayal, whistle-blowing, or the formal disclosure permitted by onerous procedural rules (as sometimes happens with government official secrets). Both types of secret mostly remain unknown to investigators because of a lack of access or candour. The third type of secret is entirely different in this regard. The open secret is widely known but remains unacknowledged publicly. It is not spoken about because it is considered unmentionable or it may not have a name. People may exert some effort not to notice an open secret, or deny its existence, because the secret is an inconvenient, embarrassing, or worrisome truth. These secrets pose a problem for investigators because non-occurrences can be difficult to detect and articulate. If articulated, it is difficult to get others to talk about them in public. Even if an open secret enters public discourse, opposition will usually emerge. The discusser is often told to “mind your own business”, “don’t rock the boat”, or “move on” … or something more threatening. Uncloaking open secrets is very necessary, however, because of the way they distort people’s perceptions of reality.
This characterization of open secrets draws from Eviatar Zerubavel’s new book, The Elephant in the Room. Zerubavel has gained some notoriety for his stellar research on how we notice things and make distinctions (The Fine Line, 1993). His latest work is a logical step forward; a long overdue one given the dearth of a systematic studies of the topic. The main premise is that, although there are psychological levers moving here, open secrets are fundamentally social phenomena.
At the core of Zerubavel’s view of open secrets is the “conspiracy of silence”, whereby a group denies the existence of a sensitive matter out of fear, emotional pain, or shame (or shame’s little sibling, embarrassment). This co-denial usually involves making a mutual effort not to notice something. Indeed, ignoring is the by-product of a particular way of seeing the world (“cognitive orientation”) that is learned through socialization, as illustrated by the absence of discretion among attentive and mouthy children. Notwithstanding physiological limitations, a person’s attention is focussed by social attitudes (morals, norms, taboos, and tact) that dictate what is a relevant topic of conversation and what is not. These attitudes form communication habits. Also, people with power can dictate what deserves attention and what are the bounds of acceptable discourse. They dictate, among other things, what is on the agenda. Fear of the exercise of power can sustain open secrets through self-censorship.
Open secrets have some intriguing characteristics. As some political scientists argue, keeping closed secrets can be difficult under certain pressures. As a handy example, the game theory known as the prisoners dilemma suggests that, given certain incentives, prisoners will routinely divulge secrets as a matter of calculated self-interest. Thus, the goal of the moderately intelligent scallywags is to limit the spread of a secret and increase the cost of divulgence. The same logic doesn’t apply to open secrets according to Zerubavel. The more people are involved, the greater the difficulty of uncloaking an open secret because larger groups exert more social pressure than smaller ones. The more people remain silent, the more individuals become fearful.
I’m not sure that Zerubavel is entirely correct on this point, since it really depends on the subject of the secret and social forces at play. When an open secret implicates most of a population, then Zerubavel’s analysis stands on more solid ground, especially if there are identity, ego, or public-image stakes involved … or if an authoritarian regime rules the land. However, the more people know outside of the pressure group, the more likely it becomes a potential subject for outside curiosity. There is a constituency that revels in the unveiling of scurrilous, dark secrets (open or otherwise) of a local (especially oddball) nature. This is where the vulnerability emerges: a local, open secret that spreads beyond a pressuring community is easy prey for a snoopy media based elsewhere. I can think of many cases of local people complaining of meddlesome outsiders who are intruding on their unflattering and hitherto un-discussed affairs. I’m not one to harp about the so-called “realities of the new media environment”, but it seems to me that this is a “reality of the venerable media environment” that Zerubavel doesn’t consider.
More intriguing are the ways people avoid discussing open secrets. That’s partly what small talk is for; blathering on about trivial subjects can avoid an uncomfortable silence; silence that can lead to the tacit acknowledgement of a secret with a knowing look or conspicuous pause. Zerubavel correctly notes that, in special cases, active avoidance can ironically be a tell-tale sign of an open secret because of an unusual absence of attention. Also, euphemism is a “deodorant of language” that, among other things, can be used to allude to an open secret without raising some of its discomforting aspects. Focusing on certain aspects of a moral dilemma (such as the vilification of aggressors in a war) while refusing to mention others (the death of innocent civilians) also shows how this type of selective attention works, according to Zerubavel.
The best example of the social dynamics inherent in open secrets is the true story of Anja Elisabeth Rosmus, as captured in the excellent Michael Verhoeven film The Nasty Girl (Das Schreckliche Mädchen, 1990). Rosmus (named Sonja in the film) attempts to learn what happened in her small German town during the days of the Third Reich. Rosmus is pilloried by the townsfolk who don’t want her to rock the boat by identifying former Nazis and Nazi collaborators. Zerubavel notes the case in passing, as one of dozens of examples gathered from many parts of the world.
This illustration-by-example is one of the strengths of The Elephant in the Room. I wouldn’t call the group of examples worldly but there is a selection from different countries. Unfortunately, the book is less convincing when citing examples from Zerubavel’s backyard: mainstream U.S. politics. Some political arguments Zerubavel deems to be open secrets are nothing more than minority opinions, which are either widely acknowledged or not acknowledged because of a lack of publicity. Such cases do not fit well into Zerubavel’s definition of open secrets, except for sensitive matters known to the media but which are conveniently ignored.
This weakness is exacerbated by the choice not to take account of alternative explanations for the lack of civil attention. I’m thinking about Nina Eliasoph’s book Avoiding Politics (1998) in particular. It is cited by Zerubavel but he fails to draw from Eliasoph’s most insightful lessons. Eliasoph speaks of a “shrinking circle of concern” within the American public; an apathy caused by anti-élitism, self-absorption, and political naïveté, as well as a disappearing vocabulary, etiquette, and imagination as they relate to discussing the substance of politics. Many sensitive subjects are spoken about openly but they are discussed in bland, apolitical terms that do not threaten the sense of commonality and consensus so prized in American political culture. (This is the country where bipartisanship is often hailed as the gold standard of political merit.) Open secrets are not discussed because political explanation requires tiresome effort while going with the flow is easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy. Admittedly, Eliasoph focuses on the United States while Zerubavel attempts to span many political cultures. However, this type of apathy is affecting (to differing degrees) advanced democracies with declining levels of political participation (which is most of them). Zerubavel captures some of these insights with his discussion of euphemism and how overtly political conversations are increasingly seen as distasteful, unmannered, and unnecessarily conflictual—as exemplified by the moratorium on discussing politics and religion in certain settings. However, Zerubavel would do well to discuss how apathy reduces people’s willingness to take risks given the emphasis he places on fear as a barrier to disclosure of open secrets.
A minor thread running through Zerubavel’s book is a critique of the academy. This starts with a few comments about how university politics and foul play are the subject of open secrets among smart people who ought to know better. This is coupled with a complaint about the myopia created by the blind spots and no-go zones of institutionalized disciplines, fields, and areas of specialization. The rigid adherence to a disciplinary canon is said to create “parochial mental ghettos”. These norms dictate what is an appropriate topic of conversation, which is at the heart of why open secrets persist within an institution. My guess is that this doesn’t really pertain to the slurred banter heard in faculty clubs and grad-student bars. Zerubavel also criticises his colleagues for avoiding the same sore points that the rest of society does; sore points that professors should be poking without inhibition given their scholastic independence and duty to enlighten.
In sum, The Elephant in the Room is an excellent examination of open secrets. The book certainly suggests the value of investigators who have a keen eye and the intestinal fortitude to speak truth to polis, like Rosmus. Zerubavel goes out of his way to argue that prominent figures and satirists play an especially valuable role in bringing open secrets into the foreground. Let me add, given recent events, that political cartoonists are among the most courageous satirists in this regard.
Review by Peter Stoyko
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