When Myanmar's military jailed thousands of protesters, something unexpected happened. International corporations began pulling out, governments imposed sanctions, and even regional allies distanced themselves—all before any court had ruled. The military's reputation had become so toxic that association carried real costs.

This is naming and shaming at work: exposing violations to trigger social and economic consequences when legal remedies fail. It's a strategy that human rights defenders have wielded for decades, from apartheid South Africa to modern tech companies. But like any tool, it works brilliantly in some situations and backfires spectacularly in others.

Governments and corporations spend billions managing their international image because reputation translates directly into economic and political power. Countries with poor human rights records face higher borrowing costs, reduced foreign investment, and exclusion from profitable trade agreements. Companies linked to violations lose customers, talented employees, and access to markets.

The UN Human Rights Council's Universal Periodic Review exemplifies this dynamic. Every four years, each country faces public scrutiny of its rights record. While the review lacks enforcement power, countries routinely change laws and policies before their review to avoid embarrassment. Costa Rica abolished its military partly to enhance its international standing. Morocco amended its constitution to address criticism about women's rights.

Even authoritarian regimes that seem indifferent to criticism often care deeply about specific audiences. China may dismiss Western human rights concerns, but it works hard to maintain its reputation among African and Asian partners. Understanding which relationships matter to violators reveals pressure points that naming and shaming can effectively target.

Naming and shaming succeeds when three conditions align: the target values its reputation with specific audiences, credible evidence supports the allegations, and clear alternatives exist. The anti-apartheid movement succeeded because South Africa needed international trade, documentation was irrefutable, and the demanded changes were specific. Similarly, Nike transformed its labor practices after student activists documented sweatshop conditions, organized boycotts, and offered clear improvement standards.

However, shame campaigns fail when targets can dismiss criticism as biased, when accusations lack solid evidence, or when no clear path to redemption exists. North Korea simply ignores most international criticism because it has minimal economic ties to critics. Russia counters human rights accusations by questioning the accusers' credibility and pointing to their violations. When Israel faces criticism without acknowledgment of security concerns, it rallies domestic support against perceived bias rather than examining practices.

The most dangerous backfire occurs when shaming triggers nationalist backlash. Hungary's Viktor Orbán has brilliantly transformed EU criticism into evidence of foreign interference, actually strengthening his domestic position. Effective campaigns therefore require cultural sensitivity, local partners who can't be dismissed as outsiders, and framing that resonates with domestic values rather than imposing foreign standards.

The difference between dismissed allegations and devastating exposés lies in documentation quality. Effective documentation follows legal standards even when courts aren't involved: establishing patterns rather than isolated incidents, maintaining chain of custody for evidence, and corroborating accounts through multiple independent sources. Human Rights Watch spent two years documenting Saudi Arabia's male guardianship system, interviewing dozens of women and analyzing hundreds of government documents before publishing findings that even Saudi allies couldn't dismiss.

Modern technology has revolutionized documentation capabilities. Satellite imagery proved Myanmar's systematic destruction of Rohingya villages when the government denied it. Social media posts by perpetrators themselves have become evidence in war crimes investigations. The Syrian Archive has preserved millions of videos documenting violations, creating an evidence base that will outlast the conflict itself.

But technology also enables sophisticated disinformation campaigns that undermine legitimate documentation. Effective advocates now must not only gather evidence but actively protect its credibility. This means using verification tools, maintaining transparent methodologies, partnering with respected institutions, and preparing for inevitable attacks on credibility. The International Criminal Court's investigation protocols, while designed for legal proceedings, provide excellent frameworks for documentation that withstands scrutiny.

Naming and shaming isn't just moral posturing—it's a sophisticated strategy that leverages reputational economics to protect rights when legal mechanisms fail. Success requires understanding what relationships violators value, presenting irrefutable evidence, and framing demands in ways that offer redemption rather than just condemnation.

The next time you witness violations, remember that strategic exposure can achieve what courts cannot. But approach it like building a legal case: document carefully, identify pressure points precisely, and create pathways for positive change. In our interconnected world, reputation has become a currency that even the powerful cannot afford to squander.