Canards, Swans and the Ecology of Outrage

Opinion

By U.Dasin

“Canard symbology“ has suddenly become the new frontier of ecological conscience. This shift is born neither of deep reflection nor sustained engagement with environmental ethics, but rather as a reflex of opposition — another pretext in the expanding theatre of outrage. Governments now face this theatre daily as they fumble with the new realities of social media and the instantaneous spiral of information into uncontrollable rhetoric. It is laughable — until it acquires the momentum of a rolling stone, gathering moss, sediment, and moral certainty along the way, becoming a problem in its own right unless a clear strategy is developed by those in power.

On 14 January, the Prime Minister and several ministers undertook a site visit to Grand Bassin to ensure that all was in order before the great pilgrimage of Maha Shivaratree. On the face of it, this was a conciliatory gesture: representatives of political Hindu groups were present, protocols were observed, and the optics were reassuring. During the visit, however, one representative reportedly suggested that the ducks which had been living on the lake for several years be removed on the grounds that they were causing pollution.

What followed was a burlesque eruption on social media. Overnight, keyboard warriors were transformed into animal lovers; armchair experts emerged in the field of “canard symbology”; and Saraswati’s sacred swan was confused with the quacking ducks of the farce unfolding before us. Opposition parties leapt in, and their mouthpiece newspapers milked the event for every millimetre of outrage, reposting the story every half-hour to harvest new readers — and with them, fresh waves of indignation.

Psychologists will tell you that most people bend with the wind of public opinion. They embrace pre-packaged views with little personal reflection, congratulating themselves on being intelligent, sensitive, and enlightened, while failing to see that they have simply entered another layer of conditioned reaction.

This time, however, the conditioning does not stem from big business or capitalist interests. It arises from a generalised weariness — one that now seems to inhabit populations across the world in their relationship with authority.If we were generous, we might admit that a similar sense of loss probably inhabits those in power, who are discovering that politics can no longer be conducted in the old way. This is not only because social media amplifies everything, but because after decades of revolutions and revolutionary false starts — Occupy Wall Street, the Arab Spring, leaderless movements, and symbolic uprisings — revolution itself has become a cause célèbre. You no longer need results; you only need a selfie proving that you participated in the protest, even when the protest may be ill-advised.

Everyone wants to protest. Postmodern fragmentation has transformed the theoretical idea that every individual is the start of a story into a practical nightmare. Everyone is outraged, and AI and Google now assist them in becoming “instant experts” in canard symbology. Most of these people, one suspects, have never paused to notice that animals feature prominently in Hindu symbolism: the tiger, the lion, the eagle, the monkey, the rat, the serpent, the cow, the peacock. One could go on indefinitely, tracing how, in the interconnection of divine powers — what modern science might poetically call a form of string theory — every plant and animal life echoes a structure within human existence.

This is why the shamans of Latin America say that for every disease there exists a plant remedy, and why every animal represents a configuration of power recognisable within the larger human psyche as a phase of our deep evolutionary psychology. Yet none of this troubles the new “duck symbologists.” For years, the area around Pari Talao has seen the regular abandonment of domestic animals and ducks. This never provoked outrage. Only now, when a politically exploitable spark appears, does “ecological sanctity” suddenly descend upon digital timelines.

Robert Langdon, of The DaVinci Code fame, would himself struggle not to laugh at the bathos unfolding before us. The observers, in their attempt to become symbols of moral vigilance, become instead symbols of the stupidity of the age. They do not realise that in proclaiming their symbolic literacy, they themselves become the burlesque.

All this aside, something more serious is emerging. New strategies are urgently required to cope with the online unfurling of what often verges on the stupidity of near-hate speech. Governments are unpopular — that is their fate. But they must learn to manage cyber-communication not merely by issuing posts, but by engaging: explaining, contextualising, debating, and influencing opinion. Is this not precisely what all relatively successful governments now attempt?

No government will ever be fully loved. But if it can convince even half the population of the sincerity of its vision, the other half may safely be left to enjoy their canard symbology for breakfast.

Mauritius Times ePaper Friday 16 January 2026