Nobody cancels what nobody reads

‘Cancel culture’ is a highly charged term, coming down hard on questionable behaviour. It divides opinion: there are those who believe it levels the playing field for marginalized communities; others argue it stifles free speech and hinders open debate.

As an inherently negative judgement, not everyone who cancels others want to take up the term. Those opposed to racial slurs and warmongering rarely call themselves cancellers – seeing it as mock terminology from the start. Interestingly, those who criticize ‘woke’ activists also refuse to label themselves as canellers, even when they are banning children’s books.

Today’s cancel culture takes up where political correctness left off. But, while being PC largely regulated the speech of politicians and media workers, this time around online audiences have more say.

Off air, screen and stage

Cancel culture is strongly anchored in television, where cancelling has long meant a show being taken off air or out of production. Public outrage has more often resulted in progressive programming that challenges norms and taboos being cancelled rather than racist or misogynist content – most American sit-coms from the 1990s and 2000s wouldn’t have existed otherwise.

The regulation of free speech is pretty much the home terrain of conservatives. The infamous Hayes code, officially called the Motion Picture Production Code, forbade, for instance, what it called ‘sex-perversion’: any positive depictions of homosexuals, or preferably any depictions of homosexuals at all, on film. It also resulted in the ‘twin bed paradox’: any hint of sexual activity, even between married couples, was strictly forbidden. The guidelines, which were applied to most motion pictures released by major studios in the US from 1934 to 1968, never outlawed blackface or hateful language about disabled people though! And it took decades to dismantle.

The experience of this centralized censorship lives on in the memory of creative industries. Self-identified free speech absolutists refer back to an era when dropping a light swearword on stage could land a stand-up comic like Lenny Bruce in jail. In the 1960s, conservative Christians instrumentalized moral outrage, while progressives were campaigning for more inclusive programming and against offensive stereotypes.

In and out of your pocket

Today’s use of the term ‘cancel culture’ is believed to have originated from the slang meaning of ‘to cancel’, or to break up with someone, as used in the 1980s song title Your Love Is Cancelled. Picked up by film and television, the term eventually evolved, gaining widespread popularity on social media, transforming the frequency with which cancelling could occur.

By 2015, the idea had become prevalent on Black Twitter, often describing a personal choice – either serious or humorous – to withdraw support from a person or work. This caused an uproar among mainstream entertainers and politicians who felt that audience pressure was encroaching on their freedom. Donald Trump has spearheaded this movement by banning protests on university campuses and deporting people to mega-prisons without any chance of protest.

At the other end of this continuum are people subjected to excessive online bullying or professional penalties without the protection of a great fortune or a huge public platform.

Positively enabled

Lisa Nakamura, a professor at the University of Michigan, describes cancel culture as a cultural boycott that develops a culture of accountability. The Heineken ad scandal from 2018 is testament: the company removed its ad, which depicted a beer sliding past multiple dark-skinned individuals before stopping in front of a light-skinned person alongside the tagline Lighter is Better, and issued an apology after widespread criticism of racism.

Meredith Clark, an assistant professor at the University of Virginia, says that cancel culture can empower disenfranchized voices. Osita Nwanevu, a staff writer for The New Republic, argues that the fear of cancel culture stems from the rise of a new group: young progressives, minorities and women, who have gained influence and are actively shaping discussions on justice and social norms. In 2017 the #Metoo movement, triggered by Hollywood actresses who accused film producer Harvey Weinstein of sexual assault, is a prime example of social media going viral and positively enabling people from all walks of life.

Meanwhile, LeVar Burton and Sunny Hostin suggest renaming cancel culture ‘consequences culture’ to emphasize that individuals who express opinions or make public statements should be accountable for their impact on others.

Tracking changes

Cancel culture raises a delicate question about societal responsibility. Potential restrictions need to be considered on a case-by-case basis with a lot of care and attention.

Editors and publishers have an essential role in deciding which voices to platform. Their jobs are a delicate balance of judgment and accountability. At an editors’ gathering last summer, the question of turning off ‘track changes’ – an unapologetic power move – set off the room that had, until then, been engaged in three days of thoughtful, measured debate. Suddenly, fifty people were shouting and laughing with the intensity of lottery winners. No consensus was reached and, honestly, the conversation could have taken another three days.

But let’s not forget: the bigger the platform, the greater the responsibility. Making space for perspectives that differ from one’s own is important, especially in an era when major platforms often reinforce echo chambers, cutting audiences off from alternative views.

But instead of launching a crusade against an imaginary foe, we want to look into the delicacies of this issue: how should institutions restrict their employees from contentious opinions? Who’s responsible for a measured debate and who gets to vent their opinions unchecked? And is it possible to cancel a writer who nobody reads anyway?

This episode of Standard Time addresses cancel culture in relation to film and art universities. We sat down with three individuals who elaborated on the fear of being cancelled, what role art universities should play in this phenomenon, and if anyone still reads critics.

Max L. Feldman, a writer based in Vienna, who teaches at the University of Applied Arts, Vienna, and the University of the Arts, Linz.

Maja Vouk, a freelance writer and cultural manager from Vienna. As a true cinephile, she regularly attends and works for European film festivals.

Johan Hartle, Rector of the Academy of Fine Arts, Vienna, who has worked as a researcher and lecturer in Amsterdam, Jerusalem, Karlsruhe and Rome.

Thank you to the Academy of Fine Arts for hosting us!