Forgiveness As the Antidote to ‘Cancel Culture’
How to demonstrate compassion for people who have ‘canceled’ you
While this may be hard for many to believe, I’m a squishy puddle at my core, and I tend to fold quite easily during face-to-face conversation.
For those who have experienced the thrashing ballet that is me telling a story, you’ve likely chuckled at my excessive use of gestures and spastic voice inflection. My arms and hands flail as if I’m a seizing orangutan, all of which occurs mostly without my awareness or even consent. Maybe it’s my Italian roots at play, or just my being fully entrenched in the looming punchline. The way I write and the way I speak, unsurprisingly, are received quite differently. I’ve been told, especially by women, that reading my writing feels like getting repeatedly punched in the gut. Ouch! When I started narrating my writing, though, these same criticisms began moving more toward my being “softer” and “nicer” than the person initially thought or expected. I suppose this is a downfall of being a sharply blunt, sarcastic extravert: it typically doesn’t translate well into written word. This is also entirely my own fault, as I’m guilty of reducing the full context of my thoughts down to squares suitable for social media consumption. Don’t blame me, blame the messenger…
With this in mind, it’s probably expected that I’ve been dragged--- a lot. My writing has been legitimately misunderstood as well as heedlessly misrepresented, the former lending a hand to critical self-evaluation and the latter an irritated but mild rage. “Content creators” must anticipate their work being bastardized, as its available for such wide and accessible misuse. This expectation in mind and in soul still does not relieve the sting of harsh criticism, especially when delivered by faceless avatars you’re unable to defend yourself against. Perhaps this is the worst aspect of social media: it not only flattens your personality and your meaning down to its dullest fragments, but it renders you a resentful martyr. I heard someone recently criticizing Jordan Peterson, offering relatively respectful feedback, to which I’ll paraphrase: “some very public figures are broken down so much that they cannot ever recover, no matter how brilliant or well-liked. I think that happened with Jordan Peterson; he had so many interesting psychological findings but just got beat down to the point that he, I don’t think, could ever be the same person the world was captivated by.” This resonated with me, as I’ve already felt microscopic hints of burning resentment which results from continued harassment, unsolicited advice, and nameless assessment.
Between losing my brother to a Fentanyl overdose and recovering from anorexia following residential treatment, I’m proud of my capacity for tolerating discomfort. Do I possess a greater capacity to handle discomfort than the average person? I honestly have no idea. The common ground we likely can all share is that we’ve suffered in at least some degree, and that we’ve managed to overcome such suffering in different ways. I do know I can handle a hell of a lot of personal, social, and professional hardship, which makes me awfully difficult to offend. Worth noting is that I’m also a human being. My feelings get hurt. I lash out. I respond angrily. I take myopic views on things produced entirely by ego and resentment. I’ve taken excessive measures to counterbalance these logical and emotional errors with critical evaluations of myself and my beliefs, and I’d like to believe such efforts have benefited me across every domain of life.
In reference to my first sentence in which I compare myself to an oozing puddle, maybe I should clarify: I do not fold in the sense that I passively comply with the demands or requests of others. It’s quite challenging to force me to do just about anything, as I’m not only stubborn, but I don’t scare easily. What I am is heavily affected (in ways I believe to be positive) by my soft spot for the humanity I see in all of us, even those whose behavior I find most appalling. It’s both cathartic and tempting to demonize people we’ve had digital altercations with, specifically if those exchanges were laden with character assassinations and willful misrepresentations. In my constant and consistent efforts to evaluate the ways my beliefs have shifted, along with the manners in which I could’ve handled myself more appropriately, I’m pleased to discover my softness persists. A perfect example of this feminine proclivity of mine was inviting a guest onto my podcast after he’d left a nasty review, stating that I was a right-wing transphobe. As soon as I saw his flowing beard and heard his rustic, raspy voice, I folded like a lawn chair. There’s a humanizing, beautiful element of face-to-face communication. Within it lies an appreciation for human error, and a passion that even permeates the digital barrier of Zoom or FaceTime. I believe I’ve found what it is: it’s the power of forgiveness.
I’ve been accused on several occasions of allowing podcast guests “to get off too easy”, as some are of the belief that “obliterating” or “destroying” a person’s every statement is an emblem of dominance and stature. I disagree. This may prove one person to be intellectually superior in some circles, but it also tends to cast such an arrogant shadow that people show even more unwillingness to discuss contentious topics. While such YouTube clips are admittedly entertaining, specifically when we’re stroking our innate egos by cheering on those criticizing groups we’ve “othered”, it’s rare that this form of dialogue will truly motivate a person to reevaluate their beliefs. Think of the last time you were thrown under the bus in a meeting or humiliated in front of your family or friends; did this incite a curiosity in you that made you want to change? If it did, that’s worth celebrating--- it’s difficult to extract a silver lining in situations so socially punishing. If you didn’t, you’re probably much like many of us: we dig our heels in in piss-poor attempts to save face, as being attacked by another person, let alone a howling group, signals evolutionary threat. And when animals feel threatened? They flee, they flare their drooling jowls to reveal razor-like teeth, or they sacrifice their own limbs to permit escape. Being ambushed is a nearly impossible task for all species.
When the cancel campaign has hit peak stupidity and its constituents have grown bored following the deterioration of another person’s livelihood, some eventually come around to recognize the residual wake of their fury. They may take to their group to signify their departure. They may reach out to others with differing opinions in an attempt to “re-calibrate” themselves to reality, as is done with those exiting cults. They may even apologize to those they’ve brutalized.
In regards to apologies, we humans can’t help but do our insufferably humany thing: we botch our amends by trying too hard to justify our cruelty, or we fail to stop ourselves from adding disclaimers and blame to the beginning and end of our confession. For those who have been wronged, we’re again seduced to tender our childish, immature streak by snapping back with a sarcastic comment. This was evident when the truth about COVID vaccines began to break our truth-avoidant culture. Anti-vaxxers belligerently demanded that mask-wearers apologize for calling them Grandma-killers. Not only did they demand an apology, but they seemed to suggest that publicly groveling and fawning was the only means by which to call it even.
These rattling walks of shame or contrived perp walks are both mean and unnecessary. “We’ve been telling you all this time about COVID, and you still haven’t apologized! NOW YOU PRETEND?! FUCK YOU, LIBERALS!” I do tend to agree that sincere apologies, when done in private, are powerful. But demanding very public apologies to a frothing-at-the-mouth audience itching to pounce, I’m unsure this is anything more than a cruel trap which closely resembles the cancel campaigns these individuals claimed to despise. These public rituals, then, really only serve to quell another person’s anger and perhaps indulge their hunger for one upmanship. Quite similar to social tarring and feathering we see frequently online, this is unlikely to be effective in preserving humanity and allowing for minds to change. It’s performative, it’s manipulative, and it delegitimizes a very intentional bid for amends; as far as I’m concerned, with our culture being as polarized and divided as it is, I’ll take anybody I can get that has begun to see the light.
There’s also an aspect of these appeals I call “compelled martyrdom”. A martyr is someone who sacrifices something of great value for the sake of the principle. In modern day, it primarily points to those who cannot seem to help but remind people of their tragedies. They’re self-righteous because of their experiences but also bitter, which often results in seething guilt trips and unreasonable demands for recognition. Sacrifice and vulnerability are appetizing, robust tools to control, and are experiences often used too easily when justifying cruel behavior. “Well I’m an XYZ person who is disadvantaged, which renders me exempt from any sort of cruelty.” “White people are in power so can’t possibly be racist.” “Autistic people have always been silenced so it’s impossible for anything they say to be considered mean or even inappropriate.” The overcorrections we’ve seen are merely misguided attempts at overcompensation, with the reductionist belief that correcting current wrongs will absolve behaviors of the past. This is not how life works. Current racism towards Whites does not change that horrific history of slavery. People who live in poverty are not given money simply because we recognize that they live in poverty. Autistic people are not all silenced, and even if they were, screeching and howling does nothing to address their past of being discriminated against. If rewriting history were so easy, it may be easier to forgive one another, which is perhaps why forgiveness is so difficult.
Forgiveness is far more complicated that accepting what happened or allowing our feelings to dissipate. While both of these are crucial for forgiveness to occur, they’re only the beginning of the transformative process of emotional amnesty. In order to detach from the resentment such anger holds over us, we need to undergo a mental transformation as it relates to our appraisal of the event, our perceptions of our overall attitudes and beliefs, and our willingness to express compassion toward the person we’ve been wronged by. This also applies to people who believe they’ve been wronged, despite an absence of evidence to support this conception. To deliberately and willfully place our hurt feelings aside, and see the good in others, is unbelievably painful. It can feel like we’re betraying ourselves and our sense of fairness. “They need to be held accountable for what they’ve done! What if my forgiving them only results in them continuing to behave this way toward others? How can I trust a person who has treated me so poorly?” These are legitimate concerns that tend to manifest as grudge-holding, rehashing of past events, and getting ‘stuck’ on the event that occurred. As I’ve written about previously, these behaviors all fall under what we refer to clinically as “rumination”, which is one of the hallmark symptoms of depression and anxiety. Rumination is continued, repetitive dwelling on negative feelings and distress, along with their causes and consequences. With this in mind--- is biding our time and waiting for a public apology the best course forward? What would we hope to gain by putting another person through something very similar that happened to us, something that we believe to be irrevocably wrong?
As a general rule of thumb, when crossing ideological lines and engaging in conversation, it’s imperative we mention mistakes on both sides—starting with our own. We hear quite frequently individuals who refuse to address mistakes of Conservatives if they themselves are Conservative, or of Liberals/the President if they themselves are Liberals. Because I’ve never publicly expressed where I stand politically, as I don’t believe it’s useful or even relevant to much of what I discuss, I will use another example from a recent conversation I had. I’ve been vocal, opinionated, and very blunt in my criticism of the Neurodiversity Movement. In understanding that the movement was borne of very poor treatment of individuals, which is unfortunately still evident in current practices, I acknowledge that there are many power-tripping staff who continue to use unnecessary force (both physically and verbally) with the clients they serve. Both ideas can exist simultaneously: that I believe the Neurodiversity Movement is sickening in its dismissal of people severely impaired, andthat I fully oppose the use of unnecessary force, cruel behavioral modification tactics, and verbally or physically abusive practices with human beings.
While I somewhat hate to use a very public figure, I believe it offers great insight into how forgiveness may be the ultimate antidote to “cancel culture” and increased hostility between groups. J.K. Rowling has been brutalized, for years, because of allegedly “transphobic” comments made on social media. In consistent attacks, J.K. Rowling has stood her ground, offering similar statements as the examples I gave above: that she completely supports the rights and dignity of trans individuals, and also believes that trans women are different from biological women. That she, too, cares about the welfare and dignity of children, and also strongly opposes today’s “gender-affirming care”. Recently, she was yet again the target of an X-Storm when she publicly stated that India Willoughby, a trans-woman, is in fact a biological man. One podcast host eagerly joined the pile-on, only to later apologize to J.K. Rowling via tweet, claiming he was struggling mentally and had hit some form of a breaking point, which resulted in his lashing out against her. J.K. Rowling’s response? “I accept your apology, and I’d ask any supporters of mine giving Caolan grief to please stop now. I didn’t ask for this apology, it was made spontaneously, and a good faith gesture deserves equal good faith from the other side.”
Imagine how drastically different today’s heated discourse could be if we adopted similar patience and stoicism as J.K. Rowling, or the goodhearted humility of Caolan. Many will criticize this as it relates to other, more recent statements she’s made, specifically one in which she pokes fun at inclusive language in a Mother’s Day Post: “Happy Birthing Parent Day to all whose large gametes were fertilized resulting in small humans whose sex was assigned by doctors making mostly lucky guesses.” When we dismiss sincere statements and apologies because of the person saying them, we’re adopting similar cruelty. We’re adopting a pigheadedness that doesn’t allow for self-growth or even new relationships to grow, but instead fosters an infected, relentless resentment very hard to shake loose. It’s the type of resentment that keeps a person miserable, that keeps a person up at night, that convinces a person their anger is, in and of itself, a meaningful purpose. These people may truly believe this, as righteousness and correcting of past injustices seems to be the only way to forge a better path forward. But it’s also engaging in the exact same behavior we’ve so heavily criticized others for.
We humans are programmed to detect danger. When we craft our reality as hyper-similar to our beliefs, as many of us inadvertently do via technology, we become less equipped to handle inevitable tension and friction. Too much conflict is obviously not beneficial for the psyche, while too much severity in punishment tends to have reverse effects on future behavior. But we also thrive emotionally and intellectually when we’re challenged and taken to task with our beliefs. It’s the only way to stay sharp in our understanding of ourselves and the world at large. We cannot accurately assess where we may have made mistakes if we exclusively seek out cheerleaders and supporters. We can criticize ideas while still supporting people. We can vehemently disagree with a statement while respecting the individual saying it. And we can forgive a person who we find personally repugnant and even undeserving of our forgiveness.
Two ideas can exist. I believe all of us know this. To reiterate this has proven to be ineffective. It’s less about the fact that we can hold both ideas, but more about our willingness to bear the weight.
What are you willing to do?
I remember a while back, you wrote that (and forgive me if I miss any details, I am paraphrasing here) when encountering an person's argument that you are diametrically opposed to, it's most beneficial to approach it as stoically as possible, as this would allow for actually being able to parse apart the actual logic of the argument rather than just responding on a purely emotional level. This is something that really resonated with me, and a strategy that I try to bring into conversations with individuals whose viewpoints I disagree.
Mark Manson said recently (when discussing one of his own comments that was publicly derided) that social media/online life optimizes for pithiness. I think if there were a greater drive to actually engage with people who make statements that you disagree with, rather than just arguing off of your own emotional biases, conjecture would be a lot more productive, regardless of how "polarized" two folks might be on a given issue.
I really enjoyed this post - keep the content coming and don't let the haters get you down!