The Truth About Cancel Culture Nobody Wants to Admit
Josh Shear – Cancel culture. The phrase has become a cultural lightning rod, a shorthand for everything from public accountability to online mob justice. Whether you see it as a necessary social correction or a dangerous weapon of mass outrage, one thing is certain: cancel culture isn’t going away anytime soon. But there’s a deeper, more uncomfortable truth about cancel culture nobody wants to admit. It’s not really about justice. It’s not even always about accountability. At its core, cancel culture has become a mirror one that reflects our own insecurities, tribalism, and craving for power in a world where control feels increasingly out of reach.
And that’s exactly why we need to talk about it.
One of the most seductive features of cancel culture is its simplicity. In a chaotic, morally gray world, it offers a binary framework: this person is bad, that person is good. You’re either with us or you’re out.
But reality rarely works that way.
Humans are flawed. Context matters. Growth is possible. Yet cancel culture often flattens nuance in favor of performative outrage. The loudest voices online don’t ask for change or conversation they demand punishment. Apologies are never enough. Remorse doesn’t buy redemption. The goalpost constantly moves, not because people expect better, but because outrage itself has become the currency of online relevance.
We tell ourselves it’s about justice. But more often than not, it’s about control.
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Ironically, cancel culture often claims to “punch up” to hold the powerful accountable. And sometimes, it does. But just as often, the targets are ordinary people who made a mistake, a bad joke, or an ill-informed post years ago.
Because when outrage is democratized, everyone becomes a potential target. One tweet. One comment. One resurfaced video—and your job, reputation, and future can vanish overnight. Not because of a fair hearing, but because the mob decided you’re not worth keeping.
This is not justice. It’s retribution disguised as morality.
It’s also about power. In a world where institutions feel distant and governments seem ineffectual, public shaming becomes the weapon of choice for those who feel unheard. Social media offers a stage where even the most marginalized can hold others accountable or simply take control, if only for a moment.
Canceling someone becomes a substitute for systemic change. And it’s much easier.
Let’s be honest outrage is profitable. News outlets chase clicks. Platforms reward engagement. Algorithms prioritize conflict. Social media doesn’t thrive on healing or empathy. It thrives on emotional spikes. On controversy. On us-versus-them narratives.
So cancel culture, in many ways, isn’t just organic. It’s engineered.
It’s built into the very systems we use every day. The more you scroll, the more divisive the content becomes. The more you argue, the more you see similar posts. This creates a feedback loop where each “cancellation” feeds the system, even if it destroys real lives.
And while we think we’re acting independently, the reality is that our anger is often being harvested, packaged, and sold.
It’s not just the canceled who suffer. Everyone does.
Living in a digital culture where every misstep could be your last encourages silence, not honesty. People stop asking questions. They stop expressing doubt. Fear replaces curiosity. Conformity becomes safety.
And for those doing the canceling, the high is short-lived. After the outrage fades, what’s left? Did anything truly change? Or did we just perform our anger, collect our likes, and move on?
The psychological toll of constant moral vigilance is real. We become cynical. Distrustful. Exhausted.
That’s not social progress. That’s burnout disguised as activism.
This isn’t a defense of racism, sexism, abuse, or bigotry. Real accountability matters. Harm needs to be addressed. But accountability and cancellation are not the same.
Accountability involves conversation. Listening. Understanding intent. Allowing space for growth. Cancel culture too often skips that step. It goes straight from offense to erasure.
If we truly want a better society, we have to get better at handling discomfort. At sitting with disagreement. At accepting that people are messy, change is hard, and growth takes time.
We don’t need to silence everyone who gets it wrong. We need to build a culture where people are allowed to get better.
The truth about cancel culture nobody wants to admit? It’s not just about “them.” It’s about us. Canceling someone is easy. Building something better is hard.
But if we want real change, we have to be willing to do the hard work. not just of calling people out, but of calling them in.
Because in the end, the goal shouldn’t be perfection. It should be progress.
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