You’ve all seen it. Maybe somebody’s worst moment was captured on film and posted to the Internet. Maybe they tweeted or posted something insensitive or even legitimately terrible. It could have been yesterday, or it could have been 30 years ago. Regardless, someone commits or is revealed to have committed some transgression—real or perceived—and they are promptly shamed the world over, perhaps fired from their jobs, have their personal information revealed publicly, and/or all their products or works are boycotted. This is “cancel culture.”
Cancel culture has been in the news for the past several days, mostly because Harper’s Magazine recently published a letter signed by about 150 prominent public figures. Some of the signers have themselves experienced the wrath of Internet mobs for holding certain viewpoints. None of the signers themselves are likely to be ruined by cancel culture, and critics of this letter are quick to point this out. But what is going mostly unaddressed here is the impact cancel culture has on the average person. This is what we should be talking more about.
Though it’s often celebrities and influential public figures who get “canceled,” cancel culture can target anyone. Sometimes it targets those who truly do need to be called to account for things they’ve said or done. People like Carson King, Amy Cooper, Justine Sacco, and many others publicly said or did things that deeply hurt people, and certainly their public acts deserved public criticism. Indeed, one thing cancel culture has shown us is the shocking number of people who do openly express racist or bigoted attitudes.
Much of the time, though, the targets are innocent people whose actions are wrongly interpreted or deliberately distorted by overzealous Internet mobs. There’s the case of Emmanuel Cafferty, a Mexican-American man accused of making a white supremacist hand gesture based off one photo where he was cracking his knuckles. Based on that alone, he was fired from his job at San Diego Gas and Electric.
There’s also David Shor, a data analyst for Civis Analytics, who posted a tweet linking to an academic study that suggested non-violent protests led to more support for Democrats in subsequent elections than violent protests. The Internet mobs, though, immediately accused him of racism and called for his firing. Despite Shor issuing an apology, Civis acquiesced to the cancel culture mobs and fired him anyway.
Some will argue that cancel culture is merely calling people to account for their actions, and in some cases that may well be true. But in cancel culture, accountability gets quickly replaced by mob justice, and that’s especially true if it’s directed at an easier target (i.e. a person who is not wealthy or famous). It’s evident that in many cases, innocent people are ruined, and even in the case of the guilty, it’s arguable that often the consequences are disproportionate to the offense. Furthermore, cancel culture sometimes functions as nothing more than a club to silence people with ideologies that the Internet mob disagrees with.
Based on this, the Harper’s letter signers are concerned about cancel culture stifling the expression of free speech, and rightly so. A society that is unable to distinguish between dangerous and malicious ideas and thoughtful philosophical debate is doomed to descend into a power struggle of who can shout the loudest and act most forcefully. But the concerns of cancel culture are more than political. In the past several years, cancel culture has taken on an almost religious character.
This shouldn’t surprise us. As much as some would like to think the West is secular, humans are not designed to be secular. We cannot help pursuing the sacred. Acknowledged or not, every culture has a set of values, dogmas, and ideals that are sacred and inviolable. Modern American culture is no exception. Analyzing just what those values are would take far more space than is available here. But suffice it to say that much like religious zealots once rushed to burn heretics at the stake, modern Americans leap at the opportunity to defend the sacred. They feel justified in pouncing on and punishing with ardent zeal those who violate—or are perceived to violate—those sacred values. It also helps them feel better about themselves, because they get to feel morally superior to those they are canceling.
This is why, in cancel culture, you will never see the accused face a fair trial. Factors such as the character of the accused, the length of time passed since the transgression, or the ambiguity of the allegation are rarely considered. The verdict is rendered by one factor and one factor only: whether or not the mob was offended by it. If so, then the punishment is whatever the mob determines it is, whether it includes mass shaming, boycotting, offensive memes, vandalism, or death threats. They are branded in local and national news as racists, bigots, misogynists, or whatever label sticks. In effect, they are excommunicated from society.
I won’t say every aspect of cancel culture is completely evil to the core. In one notable way, it’s actually an improvement on the mellow and tolerant culture of the previous generation. Boomers, Gen Xers, and Millennials tried their hardest to make a society that was secular and tolerant, allowing for a diversity of viewpoints. But even Christians have been saying for decades that Western culture was taking tolerance too far. We expressed concern that society was heading down the path of moral relativism, where no one had the right to say that anything was definitely right or wrong.
Cancel culture is the death of moral relativism. Young Millennials and Gen Zers, the main modern denizens of the Internet, are having none of it. (Indeed, cancel culture has been observed to be particularly toxic and popular among teens and young adults.) There are certain viewpoints that should not be accepted or tolerated or overlooked, they say. Someone who calls black people the n-word shouldn’t have a million followers on TikTok or be admitted into a prestigious university. Racism, misogyny, and the like are morally evil views, and should not be respected or ignored. Punishing people for expressing them, shows that such views deserve no platform in modern society. This is the attitude of those who practice cancel culture, and a hostile attitude toward certain moral evils can’t be an entirely bad thing.
However, cancel culture is an utter failure at creating a morally upright society. Like most quasi-religious endeavors, it’s irredeemably tainted by political concerns. The vast majority of the figures “canceled” are those who have committed offenses that are front and center in current politics. The actual morality of an action matters far less than the political agenda of the group driving the cancellation.
For example, University of Chicago professor Harald Uhlig was suspended from his university job after ridiculing Black Lives Matter’s call to “defund the police.” (A subsequent investigation led to his reinstatement.) Yet Arthur Butz, a Holocaust denier, still holds a comfortable position as a professor at Northwestern University. Why? Because police brutality and racism are at the forefront of current politics, while anti-Semitism isn’t very high on the priority list of either political party.
This is true for historical figures, too. Activists have recently been vandalizing and pulling down statues of people like George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Christopher Columbus. Meanwhile, Henry Ford was a Hitler supporter and open anti-Semite. Yet not only do his statues remain untouched, but he is honored with his own museum, library, and automobile brand. Margaret Sanger, the founder of abortion provider Planned Parenthood, was a racist and eugenicist who wanted to round up “dysgenics,” put them in concentration camps, and sterilize them. Nobody has canceled Ford or Sanger. Evidently, nice cars and defending abortion supersede racism and bigotry for cancel culture.
The power structure of cancel culture is one very reminiscent of hypocritical religious structures of old. It ostensibly follows an absolute set of principles, but in reality is steered by political agendas and cultural trends. It is driven by a self-righteous desire to punish transgressors in the name of defending the sacred. It favors the strong and powerful and beats down the common person. It’s shown its sinister potential to be a tool by which the majority seizes the power of the mob and oppresses, with religious zeal, those who are powerless to resist.
Cancel culture actually upholds the inequities that prevail in our society. If you are already powerful and famous, it’s possible to overcome the assaults of cancel culture, or even be immune to it. Despite the intense backlash JK Rowling has gotten for her views about biological womanhood, she isn’t going anywhere. Kanye West can say pretty much anything he wants at minimal risk to his livelihood. Jimmy Kimmel, Virginia Governor Ralph Northam, and Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau will suffer little more than a token rebuke for their past wearing of blackface.
But there is no hope of redemption for the lowly. Those average, everyday people who have had their lives ruined by cancel culture? There’s little hope for them. Amy Cooper will almost certainly forever be known as the racist of Central Park. Any company will think twice before hiring David Shor. Even Emmanuel Cafferty, who is so obviously innocent that nearly 10,000 people have signed a petition to have him reinstated, is out of work during a pandemic.
In a few ways, Christianity is similar to cancel culture. Both have a system of absolute moral values, sacred mandates that should not be violated. Both have a method of confronting violators of those mandates and addressing their violations. But that’s where the similarities end. Cancel culture is, in the end, unable to bring about proper justice on a consistent basis, and incapable of changing anyone’s life for the better.
In that light, there are three key ways in which Christianity is superior to cancel culture. Not only should anyone who calls themselves Christians employ these principles when addressing any form of discrimination, bigotry, or offensive behavior, but society as a whole would be better off if everyone did.
The heart matters. In cancel culture, only one factor determines whether or not you’re guilty of a cancellable offense: if a sufficient portion of the mob is offended by it. Whether you spoke or acted in ignorance or malice rarely makes a difference. Something from 30 years ago is often treated the same as something from yesterday. What you say in your worst moment forever defines you in society’s eyes.
As God looks at the heart (1 Sam 16:7), so should we. When hurtful words are spoken or hurtful deeds are done, intent and character are relevant in determining a response. Just because a person spoke or acted in ignorance doesn’t mean no one was hurt by them, and even an ignorant or out-of-character act requires some form of restitution. But it is sinful to judge hastily by mere appearance (John 7:24). A full picture of a situation is necessary before a just judgment can be rendered. As demonstrated in the cases of Cafferty and Shor, cancel culture is not inclined to do that. The Internet mobs are too lazy.
Repentance is meaningful. Repentance is a big part of cancel culture. When a person is accused of an offense, it’s expected that they will offer an apology. However, in cancel culture, the purpose of the apology is not for the accused to express contrition. It’s to vindicate the mob. As illustrated by the case of TikTok star Emma Lu, it seems that the more heartfelt the apology, the more the mob feels justified in piling on. The main purpose apologies serve in cancel culture is to tell the mob they are right.
Of course, apologies for wrongdoing are absolutely necessary, and by themselves they don’t necessarily mean much. They have to be corroborated by action demonstrating sincere repentance. Both cancel culture and Christianity will agree on that. The difference is that for cancel culture, an apology is simply an affirmation of the mob’s moral high ground and a license to justify further punishment. For Christianity, an apology is an essential first step in a process with the aim of reconciliation. That is the ultimate goal of repentance, both in our relationship with God and our relationships with each other.
Redemption is the goal. Unlike in cancel culture, where the average person with no public platform will rarely get a chance at redemption, redemption is the highest ideal and universally available in Christianity. It is the ultimate goal of justice. Indeed, God’s desire is to see everyone redeemed (1 Tim 2:4) and restored. This can only be achieved, though, through a process where judgment is rendered based on the whole picture rather than a superficial appearance, and where genuine repentance is viewed as an avenue on the path to reconciliation rather than further punishment.
Cancel culture is an attempt to build a system where evildoers are held accountable for their actions and justly punished. But in this regard, it is a cheap substitute for Christianity. It can only replicate part of the intended aim of justice: trial and punishment. Even there, it does so lazily, acting via mob justice rather than a just verdict rendered after careful consideration. The Christian view of accountability and justice aims at a higher goal: restoration and reconciliation. Cancel culture’s sense of justice is too weak, lazy, selective, and inept to ever achieve this goal.
Christians should not act in the spirit of cancel culture. While cancel culture can achieve a measure of justice under certain circumstances, it is incapable of bringing about the kind of justice God desires. On the road of justice, cancel culture is a dead end that leads nowhere. Although following Christian principles isn’t a guarantee that justice will always be done in this life, it is far better than cancel culture, and at least provides a chance at reaching the goal of restoration and reconciliation.