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There is an idea of the Grumpy Old Men, and I know it exists in Her Majesty's Dominions because a British comedian does a fun version about the colloquialism, "innit", and there is a less grumpy version in a Harry Potter story. Anyway, I mention them because in my day, the grumpy old men wrote letters to the editors of newspapers, and such, lamenting secular humanism—or feminism, or liberalism—as the thin edge of the wedge bringing moral relativism that would shred the fabric of American society. When we actually see that moral relativism in American society, though, it emerges on behalf of what those grumpy old men pretended to protect. And if somewhere in the 2014 midterm cycle, for instance, there is an obscure occasion that a Republican running in a primary for an open Congressional seat argued that his Christian duty required him to oppose feeding the hungry, he might not be definitive of Christians or conservatives per se, but his moral relativism reminds consideration of how much the conservative politic seeks to exclude. That's part of what is at stake in the complaint against cancel culture, the power of exclusion. While this might seem obvious insofar as we are considering censorship and even employment disruption, the complaint against cancel culture seeks to retain the power to exclude according to its aesthetics while disdaining complaints against such rhetoric and behavior.
When a fiction-writers' association expelled a member several years ago, it might be easy to think he was kicked out for his politics, but that wasn't really it. Had it been simply a matter of his politics, they could have dumped the white nationalist well before then. As a question of the interests of an organization and its members, it wasn't about protecting members from the fact of his politics, but, rather, the incivility and antisociality shown some of his fellow writers for the color of their skin. Was he "cancelled"? Let us be clear: It's one thing if his beliefs, thoughts, or political views, would cancel someone else for being Black, and it is nearly unavoidable that recognizing his views played some role in the board's decision; but the question at hand was his behavior toward colleagues, including and particularly within the purview and context of Association function, and if he was irreconcilable, then he was irreconcilable. As it was, his subsequent revenge stunt would go on to make a point about irreconcilability, as well as remind that he certainly wasn't silenced.
And it's ironic that we can tell a story of a frustrated younger man writing a letter to the editor, but he was grumpy about disapprobation arising from perceptions of exaggeration, stereotyping, and even racist pandering in his memoir. And, yes, that really stings when one is in his circumstance. Inasmuch as he was complaining about intolerance of opposition as some sort of general notion, it seems worth observing that he was allegedly pandering to a particularly destructive exclusionism. Moreover, some of the dynamics of who did or didn't join his complaint are fascinating in this regard, because he found himself joined by a pop culture icon who was also the de facto celebrity symbol of a movement that even went so far as to identify itself as exclusionist; someone who wanted to sign, after the fact, was the controversial antifeminist who argues people should be willing to openly humiliate themselves in order to disrupt antiracist discourse; someone organizers chose to exclude from asking to sign was the ostensible leftside firebrand with a scorching critique against cancel culture that, like the alleged pandering to racism, the open identification of exclusion, and public advocacy of disrupting antiracist discussion, tends toward the legitimization and advancement of harmful discourse that cannot stand on its own merit. There isn't really anything in that infamous episode, though, about extreme leftists cancelling less extreme leftists. I don't know, maybe the fallout back and forth including a lesser celebrity exclusionist getting into it with a former co-worker, but that part of it seemed more a glimpse of something going awry within a particular complaint against cancel culture.
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In American history, we have a reference known as Griswold, and as far as I know it has nothing to do with that family in the movies. Griswold v. Connecticut was a Supreme Court decision striking down a law suppressing distribution of information about contraception and abortion; a bit of pub trivia associated with the case is that the law it overturned was brought to the legislature by state Senator P. T. Barnum. Now, just as a general proposition, were those who advocated this censorship silenced by the decision that dissemination of information about contraception and abortion could not be suppressed by coerive force of state? The 1965 decision overturning an 1879 law found its way into Supreme Court opinions handed down in the twenty-first century, so we know the pro-Barnum argument has never truly been cancelled in American society. In fact, it is a powerful fundraiser, especially with the resurgent twenty-first century conservative political focus on disrupting reproductive health care. So, no, they weren't really silenced.
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It is not impossible that the term, "cancel culture", itself was invented by someone to the left of the political center, but, "I think" and "probably" aren't really the best explanation of what one means. And compared to a history in which thematic contiguity clearly tends toward conservative political arguments and sympathies, the question of who coined a term is its own curiosity.
If we consider our newly arrived neighbor↑, though, it is not simply that particular beliefs and actions are abhorrent to some majority of people. That some beliefs and actions offend a majority is hardly new, but there is also a relevant question of function. This is not so far removed from your consideration of the right winning a battle to define cancel culture, at least inasmuch as part of what makes the conservative definition of cancel culture so easy to sympathize with is its appeal to self-interested relativism.
It's kind of like Griswold; was a time when the idea of women voting was considered abhorrent rhetoric, and protesting for suffrage abhorrent conduct, but it was not some analogous equivalent of cancel culture when the majority got its stuff together long enough to ratify Amendment XIX. This example is pretty straightforward: One side wanted nonreciprocal—i.e., unequal—exclusivity, the other side inclusive equality; there is a functional difference. The one side is not excluded simply because it cannot exclude the other. It is not silenced if subsequent discussion on the subject of human rights continues without being hauled back to women's suffrage or suppressing discussion of health care. Incels, for instance, are not canceled if the proverbial rest of us don't stop what we're doing in order that we might discuss women as a material resource in order to equally redistribute men's access to heterosexual intimacy. The pop culture icon is not cancelled if the people they would exclude refuse to buy their book; nor is that exclusionist cancelled if the friends and family of the people they would exclude also decide to skip out.
It's true, though—
… but I think that the term "cancel culture" was probably invented by people on the political left, not the right, who were concerned about increasing calls from people the left - traditionally strong supporters of free speech - to punish people for saying certain things, especially in cases where little effort was made to determine the speaker's intent or to look at the context. In other words, the issue of "cancel culture" was not about condoning hateful utterances or whatever, but more a concern about overreach - about jumping to conclusions and about disproportionate punishments.
—it sounds like a fascinating story; I wish you would tell it.
It then becomes a simplistic fight in which rightists argue that hate speech should be "free", while leftists argue that those who use it deserve to be "cancelled". In the process, the original leftist complaint about "cancel culture" is completely lost.
No, really, it sounds amazing.
[―fin―]