How much emotion can democracy take?

One minute, the entire family is chatting cheerfully around the dining table. Then someone comments on the Syrian neighbours – and, of course, an argument ensues. Different scenario, similar dynamic: in a university seminar room, students discuss the media portrayal of femicides. A genuine exchange of perspectives takes place until an unexpected remark is made… and now the atmosphere has soured.

Time and again in everyday life, we find ourselves caught in moments where conflicting views and emotions collide, especially when it comes to political issues. For Anna Durnová, these situations are not sources of discomfort and angst, but rather valuable material for her research.

Anna Durnová is Professor of Political Sociology at the University of Vienna. When she began to study the role of emotions in political debates and in institutions around 20 years ago, she entered new research territory. At the time, emotions were scarcely discussed in research and teaching in the field of social science. She had to keep pushing to overcome old ways of thinking and to introduce the emotional perspective into the discourse. "Today, I sometimes observe the opposite. Individual emotions receive so much attention that the discourse sometimes goes off the rails," she says. "I am usually the one who then says, 'Wait a minute! Stop!' We need to contextualise these emotions, draw distinctions, and make sure that we can still get along."

She therefore raises the following big question:

Why democracy needs emotions

The social scientist is convinced that a functioning democracy needs emotions. Outrage at injustice – whether we have experienced it ourselves or witnessed it – is often the catalyst for significant change, such as when protests prompt a debate on the relevant issue in parliament, as has been the case, for example, regarding climate policy and women’s rights.

"Allowing and sharing these emotions is liberating and enables a new form of honesty in the discourse, on the one hand. On the other, emotions can reinforce polarisation and conflicts," says Durnová. According to her, the solution therefore is not to exclude emotions from political debates, but rather to establish new rules.

Empathy, calmness, hope and solidarity can connect people. But fear, frustration and anger are not automatically dangerous either. They only pose a problem when they are used to manipulate others, when they are directed against groups of people or when they are the sole means to justify political actions. Climate policy is a perfect example to illustrate how ambivalent the effect of emotions can be. Fear can convey urgency or paralyse us; anger can mobilise people or harden positions – the power of emotions in the democratic debates on climate and inequality is at the heart of the international research project CIDAPE, which is coordinated by Anna Durnová at the University of Vienna and brings together eleven partner institutions from nine European countries.

Gender, values and experiences of inequality

Three key findings have emerged in the research conducted as part of CIDAPE, says Durnová. First, gender plays a key role with regard to the emotional dimension of the climate debate. Both the nature of the emotions expressed in discourse on climate change and the way in which they are perceived and shared differ depending on gender.

Secondly, it becomes apparent that merely providing space for emotions and participation is not enough. Rather, the values associated with certain feelings and the way in which we shape participation processes are important. This includes, for example, whether people are sufficiently informed in advance, whether they have the opportunity to ask questions and interact and what 'dramaturgy of emotions' emerges in political debates on climate change. The nature of participation significantly impacts how emotions affect democratic negotiation processes.

Third, their research has shown that emotions are driven by different experiences of inequality. People bring their own stories, burdens and perceptions of social inequality to the debate. Recognising these different perspectives and establishing connections between them is a key challenge, says Durnová. Against this backdrop, climate policy inevitably becomes a question of democracy. Who can decide on resources? Who is prepared to sacrifice their agency, their positions? And who actually has the financial and emotional resources to contribute?

Loneliness as a social and political issue

CIDAPE focuses on emotions that are expressed loudly and publicly. Durnová's current research project, on the other hand, is dedicated to an emotion that often remains hidden and is usually not voiced loudly – loneliness. However, the basic question remains the same. As part of the LONERS project, which was awarded an ERC Advanced Grant, the most highly endowed research grant in the European research landscape, Durnová explores the impact of emotions on society and how politics and institutions respond to it. The COVID-19 pandemic provided one important incentive for her to focus on the topic of loneliness. During the pandemic, we were frequently asked to 'stay at home', as if 'home' were the same, equally safe place for everyone.

But the topic had been on Durnová’s mind already before that, such as after the Germanwings plane crash in 2015. The media reported a lot on this 'lone perpetrator who would always say hello to his neighbours really nicely'. "I remember finding it unsettling at the time how little we actually know about the people around us," the researcher tells us. "In our current project, we explore at which point loneliness becomes a risk to the person affected and to those around them, warranting outside intervention."

In this context, the project team also investigates how this might be linked to radicalisation – without rushing to conclude that loneliness causes people to radicalise. This also connects to a basic political question, i.e. as a society, how much responsibility do we bear for one another?

Studying political emotions: it all depends on the context

Growing up, we learn which emotions are considered appropriate. It makes a difference whether a five-year-old girl is crying on the playground or whether the US President sheds tears on camera – status, origin, gender and situation all influence who is allowed to show which kinds of emotion and how these emotions are perceived. This context is exactly what the sociologist is interested in. What people 'really' feel is less relevant in this context than how they express their emotions, the context in which they talk about them and the debates arising as a result. To explore this issue, Durnová and her team use interviews and dictionaries, and systematically contextualise their data material.

In research diaries, the academics note down their own emotions during, for example, an interview – the researchers' emotions are part of the research process, too. "For a project, I was interviewing people who had cared for their family members right until the end of their lives, and a colleague said to me, 'Of course, you will cry along with them. You are human, after all'," Durnová tells us. "Reflecting on this compassion and incorporating it methodically into our research is also a challenge for us as academics."

Universities as a space for conflict and open questions

Research on emotions does not resolve conflicts, but it can bring to light perspectives that would otherwise be overlooked. For Durnová, this is how her research impacts society. For example, in Czechia, she investigated how women's fear of obstetric care influenced public debate, keeping some of them from going to hospital. Her main concern was to "give a voice to a vulnerable group". To this day, her study is used by politicians to substantiate necessary changes, says the researcher, illustrating how her research makes a real difference.

Registering emotions is only the first step. The real challenge lies in facilitating and enduring complex and contentious debates. Durnová envisions universities as places where complex and controversial debates are possible and tolerated. : This does not mean that everything has to be put on the table," she reiterates, "but that we need to be able to understand why it is not possible to reach a consensus when it comes to specific issues or scenarios." Asking the right questions is crucial. They must be open-ended enough to be relatable for different people, yet focused enough to ensure a focused discussion that will not venture off. 

What can Vienna's shared streets teach us about democracy?

To explain how living together in a democracy can work, Durnová brings up an example from daily life. "Have you ever ridden your bike along Mariahilfer Strasse?" One section of this famous Viennese shopping street is an 'encounter zone' (Begegnungzone, in German), a shared space collectively used by cyclists, pedestrians and other road users. Should I ring the bell and upset someone? Should I simply pass by and startle them? "There is no way of getting it right, because you cannot possibly know what state of mind the person in front of you is in," she says.

The possible solution: slowing down. The expert's advice does not only apply to traffic, but also to emotional debates – pause to think, reply with a question, and, if necessary, take a break.

"We could definitely compare democracy to an 'encounter zone'. There is no instruction manual for social interactions, but we could slow down and pay closer attention to one another," she says. Perhaps that is the key to answering her big question. Democracy can take many emotions – if we can agree on a way of dealing with them.

• What unites us at the University of Vienna? "Universities lay the groundwork for taking the best-possible decisions in society and politics – in my case, with the ambition of enhancing the resilience of democracy," states Anna Durnová. "Keep on asking questions. And drive solutions."
• You can find even more big questions of our time and all the collected contributions to the semester question here.