Misplaced outrage, sometimes referred to as selective compassion, is a phenomenon where the public feels strongly about domestic, family and sexual violence outside of their local region and community because such violence does not affect them personally. Partner homicide, which too often involves homicide of the children in the family, is met with the same outrage and selective compassion. We hear about horrific incidents in our consumption of news, but it is outside of ourselves, happening to someone else.
Across Australia, I understand why women are afraid to leave their abusers. I understand why many victims start to believe they do not matter. Not because they are weak, but because the culture around them teaches them, repeatedly, that their pain is inconvenient.
People are often outraged about violence against men, women and children in places other than their own community – when it lets them feel morally positioned without asking anything of them. But when the violence is close, the reaction changes. When the perpetrator is not a faceless stranger but someone’s partner, colleague, mate, son, neighbour, or family friend, the outrage evaporates.
When the solution requires more than a comment in a conversation, people suddenly do not know what to say. So, they say nothing. What does that teach women living with domestic violence?
Silence does something else too. It creates cover.
When women in Australia speak up and are met with silence, that silence becomes part of the violence. It is not harmless. It is part of what keeps women stuck believing they do not matter. It is part of what makes leaving difficult.
Silence isolates survivors and it protects perpetrators. When attention is fixed on perpetrators outside our neighbourhood, the men doing it near to you feel safer.
They feel less visible. They feel less likely to be challenged by the people around them. They are not the target, so they stay comfortable and protected.
It is easier to share outrage than to be the person who helps. Caring about what is happening close to you costs something. If your outrage only exists at a distance, it becomes performance. If your disgust is loud when the story is far away and quiet when the story is local, then it is not supporting those who disclose abuse.
It is easier to share outrage than to be the person who helps. And the truth is this: violence in our backyard is not less horrifying. It is just less convenient. Because caring about what is happening close to you costs something.
It costs confronting the fact that perpetrators are not always strangers. Sometimes they are charming. Sometimes they are employed. Sometimes they are well-liked. Sometimes they are good guys in public. Sometimes they are people we have invited into our homes.
If you want to do something that does help:
Be supportive without making it about your discomfort.
Challenge minimising language when you hear it: language such as “just leave”, “why did she stay?” “it takes two”, “he seems nice”.
Arm yourself with knowledge, understand that domestic violence is more than an incident. Coercive control and ongoing terror are not just one incident but a pattern of behaviour spanning many incidents.
If you suspect someone is living with domestic violence, check in privately and consistently. Offer practical help. Suggest they look at the From Acorn to Tassie Oak website, newly developed and up to date with information on Tasmanian domestic violence services and varying support for victims of abuse, their family and friends.
This site has testimonials from domestic violence services and people with lived experience of abuse. There’s information on the different forms of abuse and how to recognise these and much more relating to domestic, family and sexual violence.
Silence in society is doing damage. Domestic violence, no matter whether it’s far away or close to you, isn’t a private drama. It is a public safety issue happening inside homes. From Acorn to Tassie Oak is the perfect place to start arming yourself with knowledge related to partner abuse. It may help to break that silence.
