A while back I wrote a piece about the tension I was seeing across campuses between students that are accustomed to immediately (and sometimes unforgivingly) calling out language and behavior they deem inappropriate - aka the "Clap-Back Generation" and what I referred to as the "Paper Chase Generation" - the seasoned, tenured faculty that are often most highly valued by their institutions for their expertise but have fallen behind in the rapidly changing language of appropriate expressions of culture, race, gender etc… When these two generations clash in the classroom it creates a tense, less than optimal learning environment that both sides interpret in the same way: disrespect.
The challenge, I posited, is to: 1) create an understanding and expectations around the ever-evolving meaning of language and changing cultural norms; 2) embrace and accept the fact that one can, and will, be wrong (and those of us that are quietly thinking "not me" should be worried); and 3) to believe that we and others are able to learn and transform from our mistakes.
That third challenge has come increasingly into focus by way of "cancel culture." Cancel culture for those not already familiar with it was originally used in 2015 to describe the act of boycotting someone with a public persona (usually an artist or musician) and punishing them for perceived transgressions by depriving them of financial support. It's dismissing the entirety of a person for something their fans perceive they've done wrong or inconsistent with who they're expected to be. But it's not just celebrities that are being canceled.
"Canceling" has expanded to all types of people - public and private - for all kinds of reasons and sometimes for no reason at all. The New York Times recently published a piece entitled "Everyone is Canceled”. The thrust of the piece is that transgressions – actual, perceived, and (particularly troubling in a society where information can move too quickly) alleged, are all reasons that people are being canceled. It is as unforgiving as the word "cancel" itself and it often includes exclusion from a group, community or activities. It can last a very, very long time.
The Women’s Media Center shared a piece by Garnett Achieng' that describes a 20-year old Twitter user who was called out for racist tweets he sent when he was 12. “Before he could apologize for his past statements, he had to make his Twitter account private because of all the attacks he was facing.” By it’s nature, cancel culture leaves no room for the idea that people change, or that change is even possible. While there is no defense for racism, who among us would say we're still the same person we were at age 12 (and if you're like me, how relieved are you that you didn't have Twitter at age 12)? More importantly, would any of us want to forever be judged by what we did or said when we were 12?
Achieng writes, “It’s important for people to take responsibility for their past actions, but call-out culture does not give individuals being called out room to do so. Instead, the incriminating evidence equates to a person being “canceled” and any apologies they offer are dismissed." There is no possibility for change and no possibility - for the transgressor or those they've harmed - to learn, to heal or to move on.
In her opinion piece "Stepping Back from Cancel Culture" Anna McGee, a first-year student at Princeton and rape survivor describes wanting someone to "cancel" her rapist and wanting "to somehow be able to take back what had been taken“ from her. She writes that after her attacker apologized to her, she “desperately wanted someone to forgive. But he wasn’t deserving of it. He hadn’t changed — not yet.” Recognizing how much she changed over time, she questions if she’s “brave enough to think he could too." Anna writes, “I’d hate to say that we couldn’t ever move past our pasts. I believe, somewhere deep down, that all people have the potential to change, to grow, and to develop." She urges us to "...make sure that we are giving the people who are willing to admit their mistakes and take responsibility that chance."
Before I get the clap-back I'm envisioning for this piece, I want to make clear that I'm not saying that everyone that harms another is deserving of forgiveness. Rather, I'm asking that if that's what the person that's been harmed wants, if that helps them heal and move on, shouldn't we - particularly those of us that profess to be conflict resolvers - be willing to provide an opportunity for that to happen?
I was introduced to the process of Restorative Justice years ago in the context of criminal law. Restorative Justice (RJ for short) focuses on accountability and the harm done to the individual as well as to the community when a crime is committed. It's a process that includes the voices and needs of those that have been harmed, often by bringing perpetrators face-to-face with their victims to see the damage they've inflicted. And it's based on the idea that people can change.
Studies show that RJ processes like victim-offender mediation and impact panels significantly reduce the rate of recidivism in juvenile offenders. The concept is that if offenders can understand and take responsibility for their actions, they can make amends, make changes to their future behavior and thereby make communities safer. I think that we can use this model for more than criminal transgressions.
Instead of canceling people we can provide them with an opportunity to understand and accept responsibility for the harm they’ve caused. We can hold them accountable and have them make amends in a way that feels right to those they've harmed. We can give power back to victims. We can provide, for all our sakes, an opportunity for people to change and maybe even help others change in the process.
And we can be reminded, for ourselves and others, that we are more than our worst moments.
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