Cancel culture has become the most insipid and meaningless term in our political lexicon. It needs to be, uhm, canceled. Posthaste.
There was a time not too long ago, when cancel culture enjoyed a fairly specific meaning. Someone, typically a public figure, would say or do something offensive, usually of a racist, misogynistic, xenophobic or homophobic nature. (Think Roseanne Barr, Liam Neeson, Kanye West and J.K. Rowling.) Social media messages took out after them, calling for their contracts to be canceled and for consumers to stay forever clear of them.
Although product boycotts and campaigns have been around longer than any of us, the concept of cancel culture, amped up by social media, emerged a couple of decades ago. Its roots, according to a Vox analysis, ironically stem from a misogynistic line in a 1991 film, New Jack City. In one scene, the protagonist’s girlfriend reacts to his relentless violence through a sobbing stream of tears. He immediately dumps her with this retort, “Cancel that bitch. I’ll buy another one.”
From those humble beginnings, emerged an etymological metamorphosis that left cancel culture meaning, well, almost anything. Republicans said impeachment was all about canceling Trump. Trump said impeachment was all about canceling his supporters. Democrats said Trump’s election fraud con was all about canceling Joe Biden’s 81 million votes.
Wyoming GOP Rep. Liz Cheney was accused by fellow Republicans of falling into line with “leftist cancel culture” for her vote to impeach Trump. The former president’s loyalists staged an unsuccessful coup to remove her from a key House leadership position. Cheney’s supporters labeled the move, “totally GOP cancel culture.”
It gets worse. Republicans on Capitol Hill spent the past two weeks in a cancel culture meltdown over Dr. Seuss and Mr. Potato Head. They are still ranting about what they see as a far-left liberal conspiracy to remove racist drawings from children’s books, and to transition Mr. Potato Head into a gender-neutral toy. In both cases, the minimal tweaking involved was the work of corporate entities in the finest tradition of the free market system that Republicans once worshiped.
Then there is Jenny Cudd, a 36-year-old florist from Midland, Texas. After forcing her way into the Capitol on January 6, Jenny did a Facebook live stream to announce that she and her fellow rioters had just broken down a door to get into House Speaker Nancy Pelosi’s office. She was indicted last week on five charges related to that incursion. Her reaction: “This is 100 percent cancel culture,” she said. “(They) are trying to cancel me because I stood up for what it is that I believe in.” Jenny, of course, is free to believe to her heart’s content in obstruction of Congress, trespassing and breaking and entering. If she engages in such activity, however, she is subject to arrest. That’s not cancelation culture; that’s law enforcement.
Freshman Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, insisted that she too was a victim of cancel culture when the Democratic majority in the House, along with 11 GOP members, voted to strip her of committee assignments. This rare sanction was in response to Greene’s social media support for the lollapalooza of political cancelations, namely the murder of Speaker Pelosi and other prominent Democratic lawmakers. Far from being canceled, Greene continues to serve in Congress and spews forth inanities on a daily basis.
Lest you think this propensity to attribute every bump in the road to cancel culture is an inside-the-beltway affliction, take a look at New York’s embattled Democratic Gov. Andrew Cuomo. At last count, nine women, including former and current members of his staff, have accused him of sexual harassment or inappropriate touching. The state’s attorney general released a report showing that his administration had underreported the number of COVID deaths in nursing homes by as much as 50 percent. An impeachment inquiry is underway and most of the state’s Democratic leaders have called for the governor’s resignation. Cuomo’s response? “This is cancel culture,” he said. “People know the difference between . . . bowing to cancel culture, and the truth. I’m not going to resign.”
It’s amazing the amount of work demanded from these two words. At once, “cancel culture” must depict a presidential impeachment, a book publisher’s marketing plan, a Capitol rioter’s criminal defense, and the deletion of Mr. Potato Head’s honorific. On top of all that multitasking, the phrase is now being asked to save the political career of a governor credibly accused of serious wrongdoing.
Linguists have a term for such overworking of a phrase. “Semantic bleaching,” according to University of Pennsylvania professor Nicole Holliday “. . . refers to the process where words don’t have the meaning they had before. (Through overuse) they come to mean nothing or something that is purely pragmatic, but not really laden with meaning.”
Oddly, this bleaching has removed all traces of red and blue from cancel culture, making it a bipartisan adventure in meaninglessness. There may not be another force in the universe capable of creating a bond of unity between the likes of Donald Trump and Andrew Cuomo in the way cancel culture has.
During their COVID war of words last year, Cuomo said Trump had been “dismissed as a clown” and was now “trying to act like a king,” adding, “The best thing he ever did for New York City was leave.” For his part, Trump called Cuomo “a bully thug. . .who heads probably the worst-run state in the country.”
Yet, when the ill political winds blew their way, these two warring sons of Queens reached for the life raft of cancel culture. They both boasted of being men of the people, and thumbed their noses at the forces that were out to cancel them. Said Cuomo last week, off a script Trump could have written: “I’m not part of the political club. And you know what? I’m proud of it.”
Here’s a modest proposal in the interest of national unity: We toss another cup of bleach into the semantic wash, and let Trump and Cuomo cancel each other out, both forever removed from the public stage. And henceforth, we use the word “cancel” only in connection with an appointment, reservation or engagement.
Imagine what that enormous reduction in toxic masculinity levels would do for our culture!
I totally agree. It’s time to cancel cancel culture. Next up is that iconic word iconic.
Amen, Bruce.