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You're cancelled: the freedom of social media (L. Bramall)

Updated: Nov 17, 2020


By Laura Bramall (Photo: Katie Carey)


“How can we use this drug sensibly? Because it is a drug and with every drug you need to moderate it.”


Michaela Coel, in an interview about her pioneering BBC series I May Destroy You, describes social media as a drug – one that gives both highs and lows, as full of positivity as it is of mental health problems.[1] Coel left Twitter to finish her show but now boasts a following of 197.3k. In her series, she explores the complexities of social media, showing how it can be an empowering and inclusive space, but also one of harmfully black and white boundaries.


Social media is the place where anyone can express anything; in theory it allows for for complete freedom of expression. You don’t have to be famous or have a big following to have thousands of people read your opinion. But it is also a place of hate, stifling, and cancelling.


‘Cancel culture’ is the practice of ‘cancelling’ public figures or companies because they have done or said something offensive. It is normally performed on social media in the form of group shaming[2] and boycotting. What many don’t realise is the ironic origin of ‘cancelling’. Nino Brown, the gangster in the 1991 film New Jack City played by Wesley Snipes dumps his girlfriend over her tearful response to his violence staying “Cancel that bitch. I’ll buy another one.” The poor girlfriend was (probably) the first person ever cancelled. The misogyny of this cancellation was not lost in Lil Wayne’s popularisation of the joke in his 2020 single I’m Single “Yeah, I’m single / n***a had to cancel that bitch like Nino.” Jump to 2014 and the context of cancelling does not improve much; its first big boost into popular discourse in VH1’s reality show Love and Hip-Hop: New York when Cisco Rosado angrily told his love interest Diamond Strawberry in a fight “you’re cancelled”.[3]


Against this background, cancelling has taken on a life of its own. It is enacted and railed against by the left and right wing alike. A few weeks ago, in her article ‘But Why was JK Rowling Wrong?’, Abi Watkinson warned us of the dangers of ‘blind wokeness’: an acceptance of any concept on the grounds that it appears well intentioned. Coel’s drug metaphor seems particularly relevant here; the need to get likes and positive comments is a powerful one.


The recent Letter on Justice and Open Debate published by Harper’s Magazine (July 7)[4] signed by some of the most prominent authors and journalists of our time, claims that “…a new set of moral attitudes and political commitments...tend to weaken our norms of open debate and toleration of differences in favor of ideological conformity”. It claims also that society pays the price of cancel culture in that writers, artists, and journalists are more risk averse, and “fear for their livelihoods if they depart from the consensus, or even lack sufficient zeal in agreement”.


Many have been victims of cancel culture: Kevin Spacey was dropped from House of Cards, All The Money In The World, and the Gore Vidal biopic when he was accused of sexual assault although he has not yet been prosecuted. #JodieComerIsOverParty trended on Twitter after the Killing Eve star was reported to have a Trump supporting boyfriend. President Trump, never one to hold back, fully embraces cancel culture. He has fired innumerable journalists when they have not agreed with him, and called for the boycott of leading brands such as HBO and Apple, films (The Hunt), and Mexico.[5] These cancellations have had varying degrees of success (Mexico still exists, Comer is still rich and famous, but Spacey’s acting career seems to be over) but most notably, cancellation has been weaponized by both sides of the political spectrum.


The effectiveness of cancellations does seem to depend somewhat on their reasonableness. Comer is still adored because many can see that having a Republican boyfriend does not make her an awful person. In comparison, if the allegations against Spacey are true, he is a bad person and should not be allowed to infect our screens. Similarly, JK Rowling’s book sales have boomed during the pandemic:[6] her views are transphobic and should not be tolerated, but come largely from ignorance and fear. In comparison the rapper Wiley had his Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram accounts permanently banned after his spate of anti-Semitic tweets.[7] Whereas Rowling’s blog post raised concerns that are unfortunately a frequent part of the debate surrounding trans rights and must be tackled, Wiley’s comments helped no one: they were pure hate speech, without contributing anything meaningful to the debate over Israel, Palestine, or why anti-Semitism is so prevalent today.


Here we must draw a line, albeit a fine one, between hate speech and an opinion that is offensive but must be debated for the advancement of social justice. As the response to Harper’s Letter A More Specific Letter on Justice and Open Debate[8] points out, the Harper’s ‘refusal of “any false choice between justice and freedom”’ is a false one. Unrestrained freedom to give any opinion free from consequence does not create freedom for those targeted by offensive comments. What the signatories, who include Rowling, Margaret Atwood, Gloria Steinem, and Salman Rushdie, fail to realise is that they are not the silenced victims of the social media age. They are part of a powerful elite, many of them with huge social media platforms; for any one of them to be effectively cancelled they would have to do something on the same level as Wiley or Spacey. Even if one of them were to be cancelled, they would have had far more of a platform than most could ever dream of. While backlash to their unpopular opinions may be common for them, being unheard is not.


The frustration of being unheard is a constant for those who offensive and hate speech most often affects. As the responding letter points out, ‘when Black and brown writers are hired by prominent media institutes, NDAs and social media policies are used to prevent them from talking about toxic workplace experiences.’ Lacking a public voice is an issue experienced not only by people of colour, but also the LGBTQ+ community, disabled people, and any other marginalised groups. Silencing the voices of the privileged when they offend people who are already fighting for a voice is essential to allow previously unheard voices half a chance at being heard.


Of course, we should endeavour to protect everyone’s freedom of expression. Yet when a public figure is ‘cancelled’ it is often a choice of silencing the voices of those who have used their own prominence to oppress those who are fighting to be heard at all. If cancelling these privileged few means that those they hate on are more free, then it must be worth it. Maintaining an intolerance of hate speech online is not choosing justice over freedom, but choosing to hear the voices of have been previously unheard over those who have been heard a lot.


In many cases cancel culture is not healthy or helpful: it encourages instant condemnation without redemption which should be reserved only for hate speech. Yet, if it protects the freedom of expression of those who are the most oppressed, cancelling is a necessary evil. One that, like a drug, must be moderated and used sensibly, should that be possible.










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