A faint echo reverberates through our contemporary conversations, like a haunting refrain from a calligraphic brushstroke on canvas. This echo—persistent, evocative, and potent—goes by the name cancel culture. It is whispered in café debates, amplified on social media platforms, and analysed in academic circles. The phenomenon has sparked praise and condemnation in equal measure, weaving itself into the cultural tapestry of our time. As an artist and activist accustomed to exploring resistance, identity, and global solidarity, I find myself compelled to peer beneath the surface of cancel culture’s ripples, to question its essence: does it serve as a tool of social accountability or does it drift perilously close to public shaming?

In this piece, I aim to trace the contours of this nuanced debate, applying the same interdisciplinary lens I use when examining a protest mural, a collage of diaspora narratives, or a poet’s manifesto against oppression. In weaving together insights from real-world experts, notable case studies, and the broader socio-political context, I hope to illuminate the societal impact of cancel culture—its benefits, its pitfalls, and ultimately, its ethical ramifications.

A Shifting Cultural Landscape

Defining the Contours of Cancel Culture

To embark on any analytical journey, one must first define the terrain. Cancel culture is widely understood as the collective practice of withdrawing support (often financial, social, or moral) from a public figure, organisation, or even a private individual in response to behaviour or statements deemed harmful or offensive. In the digital age, such cancellation frequently occurs through social media campaigns, petitions, and hashtags.

This phenomenon, however, is far from monolithic. Writers like Jon Ronson, author of So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, have drawn parallels between the internet’s wave of condemnation and historical forms of public shaming. The difference, Ronson suggests, lies in the rapid, borderless propagation of online outcry—what once might have been local gossip or a tabloid scandal can now become a global reckoning overnight.

From my perspective as a Middle Eastern artist living in London, cancel culture can be likened to an imposing mural layered over the city’s walls: some sections reveal powerful messages of justice, while others appear splattered with graffiti that confuses more than it clarifies. This duality underpins its complexity—sometimes achieving necessary reforms, other times stoking destructive fury.

From the Public Square to the Digital Sphere

Historically, societies have employed a spectrum of sanctions to demand compliance or express disapproval. Public stocks, exile, and community boycotts are not modern inventions. However, the internet has magnified and accelerated these practices, blurring the lines between social accountability and humiliation. Where once the crowd in a town square would witness a spectacle of shame, millions now watch a single tweet or video clip go viral.

Professor Helen Lewis, a British journalist and academic, has written extensively about how social media shapes communal values. She notes, “The power to critique has been democratised, but so too has the capacity for mob-like vengeance.” This observation underscores the ethical quagmire: is this new form of cultural sanction a necessary check on abuses of power, or a catalyst for disproportionate retribution?

Cancel Culture as a Tool for Accountability

Amplifying Marginalised Voices

In its most constructive form, cancel culture functions as a mechanism for social accountability, giving marginalised communities a platform to voice grievances that might otherwise be ignored. Movements such as #MeToo harnessed online platforms to expose systemic issues of sexual harassment and assault, bringing down influential figures like Harvey Weinstein—real-world examples of how collective outcry can yield justice and reform.

In my own circle of activism and art, I have witnessed how social media campaigns can draw attention to cultural appropriation or highlight discriminatory practices in galleries and museums. These digital movements often empower those who lack institutional power. When an artist from the diaspora calls out a major institution for perpetuating stereotypes, the ripple effect of retweets and shared posts compels an establishment to respond—a phenomenon that might never have happened without the collective force behind it.

Fostering Societal Reflection

When approached with care, the communal condemnation of offensive remarks or actions can provoke necessary societal reflection. Consider the criticism faced by fashion brands accused of racial insensitivity. In 2020, Gucci faced backlash for a sweater resembling blackface imagery, prompting widespread calls for boycotts and institutional change. Though the brand was not entirely “cancelled,” public pressure led to internal reforms, highlighting how consumer activism can spark introspection and more nuanced policies.

Similarly, many theatre productions and art exhibitions have been scrutinised for engaging in orientalist tropes. Public discourse, bolstered by social media, has forced directors and curators to revise scripts, exhibits, or marketing strategies. In this sense, cancel culture, in synergy with activism, acts as a cultural thermometer, measuring the ethical climate of our times and compelling those in power to adapt or face reputational consequences.

A Catalyst for Policy Change

Beyond reputational damage, the communal demand for accountability can influence tangible policy shifts. After the tragic murder of George Floyd, global protests erupted, and numerous public figures faced intense scrutiny for their stance on racial injustice. In the United Kingdom, major universities began reevaluating historical ties to colonial-era benefactors, with students “cancelling” events or threatening boycotts. Real changes emerged: the University of Liverpool, for instance, renamed its Gladstone Hall due to the politician’s historical involvement in the slave trade.

This synergy between grassroots activism and cancel culture can be reminiscent of the relentless brushstrokes in a protest mural—each stroke adding depth until an undeniable portrait of truth emerges. The call-and-response between institutions and the public underscores the potential for cancel culture to be a force for progress when wielded with clear objectives and communal alignment.

The Perils of Modern-Day Shaming

The Frenzy of the Online Mob

Despite the constructive possibilities, public shaming can devolve into performative outrage that lacks proportionality or empathy. One infamous example involves the so-called “cancellation” of American journalist Quinn Norton shortly after her appointment to The New York Times editorial board in 2018. Controversial tweets she had penned resurfaced, and within hours, an online mob forced her resignation. Norton expressed regret, clarifying the context of her remarks, but the momentum behind her cancellation left scant room for dialogue or redemption.

Courtesy of Twitter

Instances like these highlight the disconcerting velocity of social media storms. Digital platforms can amplify incomplete or misleading information, enabling virulent condemnation before a person has the chance to respond fully. From my vantage point, this rush to judgement resembles the chaotic splatter of paint across a once-coherent canvas—bold, attention-grabbing, but at times devoid of nuance or constructive resolution.

Mental Health and the Human Toll

The human cost of cancel culture extends beyond tarnished reputations. Several high-profile figures have spoken openly about the emotional distress inflicted by mass condemnation. British television personality Caroline Flack tragically died by suicide in early 2020, prompting conversations about the savage nature of online harassment and media scrutiny. Although Flack’s case was not purely an example of “cancel culture,” it exposed the vulnerability of public figures under intense social censure.

Similarly, ordinary individuals, like Justine Sacco—whose single misguided tweet in 2013 led to global vilification—have experienced devastating consequences, ranging from job loss to severe anxiety and depression. The borderline between social accountability and cruelty can be thin indeed, particularly when social media outrage metastasises into bullying or doxxing. Even righteous causes can be overshadowed by incivility and personal attacks, tainting the original message of accountability.

Stifling Constructive Dialogue

When condemnation comes swiftly and with overwhelming force, it can diminish the space for learning and growth. Dr. Loretta Ross, a renowned academic and activist, advocates for “calling in” rather than “calling out.” She emphasises conversation and education over punitive measures, warning that untempered cancel culture risks hindering open discourse. As Dr. Ross notes, “You can’t shame people into changing their mind. You can only shame them into compliance.”

From an artistic standpoint, stifling dialogue impoverishes the cultural ecosystem. Art thrives in spaces where mistakes can be critiqued, redeemed, or recontextualised. If every misstep or offensive creation is met with irredeemable condemnation, we risk losing the potential transformations and critiques that could emerge from nuanced engagement. The interplay of expression and rectification is as essential to cultural evolution as the interplay of light and shadow is to a masterful painting.

Drawing from Real Case Studies

Kevin Hart and the Oscars

In 2018, comedian Kevin Hart stepped down from hosting the Oscars after old homophobic tweets resurfaced, sparking widespread criticism. Hart initially dismissed the uproar as an overreaction but eventually offered an apology. Though this case predates 2024, it remains emblematic of how cancel culture can prompt public figures to confront past prejudices. At the same time, the backlash was so swift that nuanced discussions around growth, redemption, and learning often took a back seat to calls for Hart’s immediate removal.

J.K. Rowling’s Controversial Statements

British author J.K. Rowling faced significant backlash from the transgender community and its allies following tweets and essays many interpreted as transphobic. The ensuing online campaign to “cancel” Rowling included calls to boycott her books and the lucrative Harry Potter franchise. Major actors from the film adaptations, including Daniel Radcliffe and Emma Watson, publicly distanced themselves from her remarks. While Rowling defended her stance as an expression of her views on sex and gender, the controversy revealed how cancel culture can galvanise support for marginalised groups—yet it also showcased a polarisation that left little room for balanced dialogue.

The #MeToo Movement’s Ongoing Resonance

Though #MeToo began in 2017, its ripple effects in 2024 remain undeniable. High-profile cancellations of once-powerful men have demonstrated how survivors can employ public platforms to seek justice. However, debates persist about the possibility of false allegations, due process, and whether the term “cancel” oversimplifies the complexities of systemic abuse. The movement epitomises both the efficacy and perils of mass condemnation—a testament to how cancel culture can dismantle oppressive systems yet risk oversimplification when the conversation becomes reduced to hashtags and soundbites.

Weighing Ethics in Media and Society

The Role of Traditional and Social Media

At the crux of the issue is ethics in media—how journalists, commentators, and everyday users of social platforms navigate the line between public interest and sensationalist takedowns. In Britain, media watchdog organisations like IMPRESS and Ofcom set guidelines for responsible reporting, yet the virality of social media often outpaces the slower mechanisms of journalistic standards. Mainstream outlets sometimes capitalise on public outrage for clicks and revenue, feeding the cycle of cancellation to increase viewership.

The interplay between social media activism and traditional news coverage complicates the ethical landscape. A single tweet can birth a scandal, which then dominates front-page headlines, prompting talk show hosts and politicians alike to join the fray. While such synergy can expose genuine wrongdoing, it can also amplify trivial controversies or unsubstantiated claims, blurring the lines between accountability and mob-driven spectacle.

Balancing Collective Power and Individual Rights

We find ourselves in the nexus of a historical moment where collective voices have unparalleled power to shape reputations and livelihoods. On one hand, this power addresses longstanding imbalances, enabling disenfranchised groups to speak truth to power. On the other, it threatens to override principles of individual rights and due process, effectively imposing societal punishments without formal legal proceedings.

Amnesty International has called for greater nuance in online activism, acknowledging the efficacy of mass campaigns while cautioning against turning social media into a punitive instrument. In my own advocacy, I have seen how quickly a just cause can devolve into personal attacks or harassment, overshadowing the original issue. This underscores the urgent need to find ethical guardrails that preserve the potency of grassroots movements without escalating them into digital witch hunts.

The Societal Impact of Cancel Culture

Shifting Norms and Moral Boundaries

The societal impact of cancel culture reverberates across institutions, industries, and personal relationships. By spotlighting behaviour once dismissed as inconsequential—whether sexist remarks, cultural appropriation, or racist “jokes”—cancel culture compels a re-evaluation of societal norms. In a sense, it wields the brush of progressive ideology, painting over the outdated motifs of bigotry and ignorance.

However, these newly drawn boundaries can feel restrictive to those who see them as a form of censorship. Some artists and comedians argue that the environment of heightened scrutiny stifles creativity, pushing edgy commentary underground. Like an overzealous art conservator who erases a painting’s historical patina, excessive condemnation risks effacing complexities and layers of discourse that might otherwise inform and educate.

Fostering Dialogue or Deepening Divisions?

A paradox emerges: while cancel culture can prompt overdue discussions about privilege, inequality, and harm, it can also deepen tribal divisions. Online platforms often foster echo chambers where like-minded individuals pile on condemnation without critically engaging opposing viewpoints. Rather than bridging gaps, public spectacles of cancellation sometimes drive prejudiced beliefs underground or turn them into rallying cries for contrarian subcultures.

Yet, I have also witnessed examples of constructive change. A renowned art gallery in London once faced a call to “cancel” an exhibition for perpetuating Orientalist stereotypes. In response, the gallery director chose dialogue, inviting critics and activists to an open forum. The resulting discussions led to a re-curation of the show and an educational segment on Orientalism’s harmful legacy. This instance demonstrates how “calling out” can transition into “calling in,” fostering an environment of transformative growth rather than destructive conflict.

Towards a Nuanced Understanding

Accountability vs. Redemption

One of the most pressing ethical questions is whether cancel culture allows room for redemption. While public figures like Kevin Hart have returned to mainstream success after issuing apologies and making amends, countless lesser-known individuals see their reputations permanently sullied by a single viral moment. This discrepancy points to the uneven application of public shaming, wherein social capital and pre-existing fame can sometimes buffer the harshest effects.

Sociologist Dr Tressie McMillan Cottom argues that a culture driven by high-speed condemnation offers little incentive for empathy or rehabilitation. “Our social networks are structured to reward the immediate expression of moral outrage,” she explains, “but they offer few models for meaningful conflict resolution or reparation.” The risk, then, is that we forgo teaching opportunities in our zeal to correct wrongdoing.

Cultivating an Ethical Framework

If we see cancel culture through the lens of activism and art, as I often do, we might envision an ethical framework akin to a layered painting—built with each stroke of critique, but requiring a thoughtful, deliberate hand. This framework would acknowledge the need for social accountability while resisting the lure of gratuitous public shaming. It would encourage transparency, demand redress for actual harm, and accommodate apologies and evidence of changed behaviour.

Dr Cornel West, a prominent American philosopher, reminds us that “justice is what love looks like in public.” Applying this ethos to cancel culture could mean embracing empathy, understanding context, and promoting restorative approaches wherever possible. For me, it is the difference between painting a vibrant mural of collective liberation versus an accusatory billboard that alienates more than it educates.

A Dialogue With Our Collective Conscience

Allow me, in signature style, to personify cancel culture as an artwork hanging in a bustling gallery. I approach this piece, its colours vivid yet jarring, its lines sharp but occasionally blurred. I ask: What stories do you hold in your layered pigments? What truths do you reveal when we examine the cracks on your surface? The artwork offers no spoken response, but the silent tension underscores the complexity.

Cancel culture can be a powerful vessel for accountability, compelling those with influence to confront their prejudices, rectify their errors, and atone for harm caused. It can raise awareness of injustices once dismissed by mainstream society, offering a collective platform for marginalised voices. Like the stirring verses of a protest poem, it resonates with urgency and emotional depth, demanding we not look away from the fractures in our social fabric.

Yet the flipside is equally potent: an atmosphere of fear, where missteps provoke disproportionate condemnation, and the possibility of growth is overshadowed by the thirst for retribution. Cruelty can masquerade as a virtue, and the frenzy of viral condemnation can destroy nuanced discourse. The potential for shared healing and reparation is lost in the rapid onslaught of digital scorn, reminiscent of a mob’s chaotic scribbles defacing a once-promising mural.

Our collective challenge, then, is to engage with cancel culture ethically. We must clarify whether we seek punitive erasure or transformative justice—whether we aim to shame or to educate. This article has traced the complex threads of social accountability, public shaming, ethics in media, and the societal impact of cancel culture, revealing both the possibilities for meaningful change and the hazards of unchecked outrage. In an era when 280-character missives can topple careers, the stakes are undoubtedly high.

As an artist, I champion authenticity, empathy, and the relentless pursuit of truth. As an activist, I assert that we must hold individuals and institutions to account for their actions. The tension between these roles informs my view that cancel culture—much like any tool of societal pressure—can be wielded either to build a more equitable future or to sow fear and division.

In stepping back to observe this complicated tableau, I am reminded that art, activism, and culture are at their strongest when guided by reflective, evocative, and empowering energies. To harness the potency of public outcry without veering into unbridled fury demands that we engage in honest dialogue, remain open to the possibility of redemption, and champion an ethics rooted in compassion as well as justice.

Let the final brushstroke of our understanding be this: the conversation around cancel culture is far from over. Like any living piece of art, it shifts with each new perspective and every evolving social norm. Whether it stands as a testament to accountability or devolves into modern-day shaming depends not on the phenomenon itself, but on how we—as a collective—choose to shape and interpret it.

Resources

Jon Ronson. (2015). So you’ve been publicly shamed. Riverhead Books.

Lewis, H. (2020). Difficult women: A history of feminism in 11 fights. Jonathan Cape.

McMillan Cottom, T. (2019). Thick: And other essays. The New Press.

Moore, S. (2019, February 7). Gucci withdraws $890 jumper after blackface backlash. The Guardian. https://www.theguardian.com/

Ofcom. (n.d.). About Ofcom. https://www.ofcom.org.uk/

Ross, L. (2021, June). Don’t call people out — call them in [Video]. TED Conferences. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xw_720iQDss

University of Liverpool. (2020, June 12). Statement on renaming Gladstone Hall. [News release]. https://news.liverpool.ac.uk/

West, C. (1993). Race matters. Beacon Press.