Moments of profound tragedy often expose the underlying tensions that quietly shape everyday shared social life. Recent events following convictions in the murder of Henry Nowak in Southampton and the stabbing of Stephen Ogilvie early this month in Belfast have shaken people deeply; on one hand it is the grief, anger, and on the other it is the fear circulating through communities. However, the rapid mobilisation of right‑wing calls for violence in response is not simply an emotional reaction. It reflects a wider pattern that deserves careful sociological attention to explore how progress for social equality is often met with backlash in certain political spaces.
History has shown that whenever societies make meaningful progress toward equality, counter‑movements always emerge to push back. Charles Tilly has long noted that social progress is rarely linear; it advances in surges and retreats, shaped by conflict as much as consensus. The UK’s own journey toward greater equality, across race, class, gender, sexuality, and migration, has been marked by hard‑won gains that are often met with attempts to reassert older hierarchies. What we are witnessing now fits this familiar pattern, evident in the rhetoric that led to Britain’s exiting the European Union. Here the socio-economic ills the country faced were from the external forces, the ‘other’ people that came through the perceived open borders; hence the claimed need to take back control and close borders from the perceived outside ‘others’ who were to blame for the country’s ill socio-economic status and their own disadvantage. A decade after Brexit, the NHS and Social Care are still in a ‘perma-crisis’, yet to be properly resourced and delivered, and inequality is still present and rising. Yet those voices are getting louder still, the cause of these problems in their view is partly poor implementation of Brexit, and still outside forces, specifically migrants those present within and the new arrivals. In their view, the tragedies of recent days are evidence of their belief that these outside ‘others’ are not only responsible for their socio-economic ills, but also that they should be feared and must be expunged.
Calls for violence are not just expressions of anger and frustration. They are political acts that seek to redraw the boundaries of who belongs and who does not. They rely on the idea that some groups are inherently threatening and that order can only be restored through force and that would resolve all social problems. This logic echoes what Stanley Cohen described as the making of “folk devils” during moments of moral panic, when a tragedy becomes a reagent for amplifying fear and legitimising exclusion. It is a pattern that has historically positioned certain communities as perpetual outsiders, no matter how deeply they are woven into the fabric of everyday life. In fact, the pattern traces back to politicians such as Enoch Powell in the 1960s and others before him, who blamed all social ills on the perceived outside ‘other’. Negating that the very founding of Great Britain as an empire first, and then a nation, is itself predicated on colonialism and relationships with the ‘other’ peoples of the world.
But violence, whether shouted online, or in well-choreographed, and recently not so subtle, political news interviews, or enacted on the street, does not heal communities or resolve inequalities. It fractures and tears at the social bonds that decades of activism, policy, and ordinary neighbourliness have worked to build. As Wilkinson and Pickett (2009)argue, societies with higher levels of equality and trust experience lower levels of violence. Social cohesion grows not from coercion but from fairness, dialogue, and shared responsibility.
The recent political responses to these tragedies with violence are calling, audaciously, for abandoning the progress society has made in understanding the structural roots of harm and social inequality. It shifts attention away from the real questions: What institutional conditions allowed these tragedies to occur? What conditions allow social inequality to continue blighting former industrial hubs and inner cities of the United Kingdom? How do we address them without scapegoating entire groups? How do we pursue justice without reproducing cycles of marginalisation? These are questions rooted in care for and a frank political dialogue with one another, and not suspicion.
The danger now, as evidenced in recent responses from some politicians, are the reactionary voices using this moment to argue that equality itself is the problem, that multiculturalism has failed, that inclusion has weakened the nation, that protections for vulnerable groups have gone “too far” or “two tier”. These narratives are not new; they surface whenever societies face uncertainty. Yet research on multiculturalism and social capital consistently shows that diverse communities can and do thrive when supported by fair institutions and inclusive public discourse. Claims that equality undermines cohesion are not only unfounded, but they are also socially corrosive. They erase the everyday realities of cooperation, solidarity, and shared life that define most communities far more than moments of crisis do.
Honouring the memories of victims of crime requires a refusal to let fear pull society backwards. It means holding onto the principles that have guided our progress: that justice is collective, not vengeful; that safety is built through inclusion, not exclusion; and that social cohesion is strengthened when we refuse to let tragedies be weaponised against the communities that are already marginalised. This moment calls for clarity, not escalation. For courage, not retribution. And for a renewed commitment to the slow, difficult, and yet indispensable work of building a society where tragedies like these are not exploited to reverse the progress we have fought so hard to achieve.
It requires a vocal and unflinching sociological analysis and engagement with the thorny issue of race, inequality and social justice in contemporary Britain that analyses the lived realities of growing and persistent social inequalities affecting working class and minoritised communities, while focusing attention on the political and institutional processes that produce, reproduce and sustain them. It is not enough to assume that society will see the cynical political attempts to exploit public fears and anxieties about their future.
“Progress Meet Backlash” How sociology can respond to calls for violence
by Shadreck Mwale Jul 1, 2026Moments of profound tragedy often expose the underlying tensions that quietly shape everyday shared social life. Recent events following convictions in the murder of Henry Nowak in Southampton and the stabbing of Stephen Ogilvie early this month in Belfast have shaken people deeply; on one hand it is the grief, anger, and on the other it is the fear circulating through communities. However, the rapid mobilisation of right‑wing calls for violence in response is not simply an emotional reaction. It reflects a wider pattern that deserves careful sociological attention to explore how progress for social equality is often met with backlash in certain political spaces.
History has shown that whenever societies make meaningful progress toward equality, counter‑movements always emerge to push back. Charles Tilly has long noted that social progress is rarely linear; it advances in surges and retreats, shaped by conflict as much as consensus. The UK’s own journey toward greater equality, across race, class, gender, sexuality, and migration, has been marked by hard‑won gains that are often met with attempts to reassert older hierarchies. What we are witnessing now fits this familiar pattern, evident in the rhetoric that led to Britain’s exiting the European Union. Here the socio-economic ills the country faced were from the external forces, the ‘other’ people that came through the perceived open borders; hence the claimed need to take back control and close borders from the perceived outside ‘others’ who were to blame for the country’s ill socio-economic status and their own disadvantage. A decade after Brexit, the NHS and Social Care are still in a ‘perma-crisis’, yet to be properly resourced and delivered, and inequality is still present and rising. Yet those voices are getting louder still, the cause of these problems in their view is partly poor implementation of Brexit, and still outside forces, specifically migrants those present within and the new arrivals. In their view, the tragedies of recent days are evidence of their belief that these outside ‘others’ are not only responsible for their socio-economic ills, but also that they should be feared and must be expunged.
Calls for violence are not just expressions of anger and frustration. They are political acts that seek to redraw the boundaries of who belongs and who does not. They rely on the idea that some groups are inherently threatening and that order can only be restored through force and that would resolve all social problems. This logic echoes what Stanley Cohen described as the making of “folk devils” during moments of moral panic, when a tragedy becomes a reagent for amplifying fear and legitimising exclusion. It is a pattern that has historically positioned certain communities as perpetual outsiders, no matter how deeply they are woven into the fabric of everyday life. In fact, the pattern traces back to politicians such as Enoch Powell in the 1960s and others before him, who blamed all social ills on the perceived outside ‘other’. Negating that the very founding of Great Britain as an empire first, and then a nation, is itself predicated on colonialism and relationships with the ‘other’ peoples of the world.
But violence, whether shouted online, or in well-choreographed, and recently not so subtle, political news interviews, or enacted on the street, does not heal communities or resolve inequalities. It fractures and tears at the social bonds that decades of activism, policy, and ordinary neighbourliness have worked to build. As Wilkinson and Pickett (2009)argue, societies with higher levels of equality and trust experience lower levels of violence. Social cohesion grows not from coercion but from fairness, dialogue, and shared responsibility.
The recent political responses to these tragedies with violence are calling, audaciously, for abandoning the progress society has made in understanding the structural roots of harm and social inequality. It shifts attention away from the real questions: What institutional conditions allowed these tragedies to occur? What conditions allow social inequality to continue blighting former industrial hubs and inner cities of the United Kingdom? How do we address them without scapegoating entire groups? How do we pursue justice without reproducing cycles of marginalisation? These are questions rooted in care for and a frank political dialogue with one another, and not suspicion.
The danger now, as evidenced in recent responses from some politicians, are the reactionary voices using this moment to argue that equality itself is the problem, that multiculturalism has failed, that inclusion has weakened the nation, that protections for vulnerable groups have gone “too far” or “two tier”. These narratives are not new; they surface whenever societies face uncertainty. Yet research on multiculturalism and social capital consistently shows that diverse communities can and do thrive when supported by fair institutions and inclusive public discourse. Claims that equality undermines cohesion are not only unfounded, but they are also socially corrosive. They erase the everyday realities of cooperation, solidarity, and shared life that define most communities far more than moments of crisis do.
Honouring the memories of victims of crime requires a refusal to let fear pull society backwards. It means holding onto the principles that have guided our progress: that justice is collective, not vengeful; that safety is built through inclusion, not exclusion; and that social cohesion is strengthened when we refuse to let tragedies be weaponised against the communities that are already marginalised. This moment calls for clarity, not escalation. For courage, not retribution. And for a renewed commitment to the slow, difficult, and yet indispensable work of building a society where tragedies like these are not exploited to reverse the progress we have fought so hard to achieve.
It requires a vocal and unflinching sociological analysis and engagement with the thorny issue of race, inequality and social justice in contemporary Britain that analyses the lived realities of growing and persistent social inequalities affecting working class and minoritised communities, while focusing attention on the political and institutional processes that produce, reproduce and sustain them. It is not enough to assume that society will see the cynical political attempts to exploit public fears and anxieties about their future.