Print is Dead

Print is Dead

The blog has been dormant, partly because there are only so many ways to say “See? This is what we’re talking about” regarding the latest public airing of grievances or bureaucatic social control. But over the past couple of years we’ve given several talks and interviews on the topic of moral cultures. Here are a few video links for those who prefer such things:

The Freedom of Dignity and the Tyranny of Victimhood,” a talk by Manning and Campbell at Azusa Pacific University in 2019.

Campus Conflict and Moral Culture,” a talk by Manning at Bucknell University in 2019.

Dignity in an Era of Victimhood and Incivility,” a talk by Campbell at Wellsley College in 2019.

Bradley Campbell on the Sociology of Victimhood Culture,” an interview by Kazingram Dialogue in 2020.

Jason Manning on Microaggressions and Violence,” an interview by Kazingram Dialogue in 2020.

Better to Be a Victim?” an interview with Campbell by Worlds Apart in 2020.

Social Justice, Sociology, and Moral Humility,” a talk given by Campbell at North Dakota State University in 2021 (requires registration to view).

The Problem with “Cancel Culture”: Just How Many New Cultures Are There?

The Problem with “Cancel Culture”: Just How Many New Cultures Are There?

Have you heard of cancel culture? The latest incident, apparently, occurred when Carson King, who quickly became famous after holding up a sign at football game asking for beer money (and donated the money he received to charity), got dropped, or “canceled,” by his corporate sponsor over racist tweeting he’d done as a sixteen-year-old. For the opponents of cancel culture, there was quick poetic justice when the reporter who had dug up King’s tweets then got fired, or “canceled” by the newspaper he worked for.

Cancel culture has also killed sitcoms. It’s got some L.A. comedians spooked.  It impoverishes the heart and the intellect. It doesn’t always work. Eddie Murphy isn’t afraid of it. And maybe it doesn’t even exist. But everyone’s talking about it.

I’m old enough to remember that prior to this week there were lots of other remarkably similar cultures people were talking about: “Call-out culture,” “safety culture,” “woke culture” (also know as “The Great Awokening,” “outrage culture,” “victimhood culture” (ahem), etc.

The proliferation all these new “culture” terms does suggest something really is happening. People are reaching for new terminology as they try to understand and describe the current moral environment. And as someone who co-authored a book called The Rise of Victimhood Culture, I’m not against describing the new trends as a culture shift. But with a new term coming into vogue seemingly every few months, it’s hard to keep track of what’s going on. Are we describing something new every time? And what does it mean to call it a new culture? What’s the old culture these new cultures are replacing, or what’s the competing cultures they’re in conflict with? Those using these new terms don’t usually address these kinds of questions, so they end up just confusing things more.

As far as I know, Jason Manning and I, in our discussion of victimhood culture, are only ones who have examined how the new culture compares to other cultures. What we call victimhood culture is a moral culture, based on ideas about right and wrong. Societies and groups don’t usually have radically different systems of morality, but their moral systems do differ, especially on what virtues and vices they emphasize. So in an honor culture, where physical bravery is emphasized, men may fight duels over small insults. They demonstrate they’re willing to face death to defend their reputation, and in doing so they’re recognized as having honor, a kind of moral status associated with bravery. The dignity cultures that replaced honor emphasize the worth of all individuals, and they encourage people to ignore slights rather than react with violence. It’s not that they praise cowardice or despise bravery; it’s a matter of emphasis.

Victimhood culture is a moral culture, just as honor culture and dignity culture are. It’s centered around concerns over oppression, and it leads to new moral concepts — safe spaces, microaggressions, trigger warnings, mansplaining, cultural appropriation, etc. It leads to a concern with even small slights that further oppression, and to attempts to have authorities deal with it, whether it’s by running workshops or firing offenders. The various other new culture terms address some particular manifestation of victimhood culture, whether it’s the language of safety, the outrage expressed by the activists, or whatever. But the narrow focus obscures what’s going on, and it inhibits any attempt to explain it.

So this is my appeal to all the pundits, tweeters, and scholars who are probably out there even now trying to name a new culture: Instead let’s try to build on what we already know to better describe the new moral environment and to understand how we got here.

Fredo and the Bedbugs (or, On the Interpretation of Insult)

Fredo and the Bedbugs (or, On the Interpretation of Insult)

Sometimes we see a social setting where a particular vice or virtue takes on exaggerated importance. This may have been the case with honesty in ancient Persia, where lying was reportedly a capital crime. According to the Greek historian Herodotus, writing of the Persian elite, “Their sons are carefully instructed from their fifth to their twentieth year, in three things alone—to ride, to draw the bow, and to speak the truth.” Similarly, in what social scientists call honor cultures, the virtue of physical bravery and the vice of cowardice take center stage. Actions that to outsiders might seem senseless, reckless, or unproductive – such as fighting a fatal duel over a mere difference of opinion – occur because proving one’s courage overshadows other competing concerns.

In The Rise of Victimhood Culture, Bradley Campbell and I argued that across much of the modern world, oppression and privilege are increasingly the chief vices. Most innocent of these crimes are those who are disadvantaged or marginalized, so that having these characteristics, or, at least, being a good ally to those who do, is an increasingly prominent virtue.

Of particular salience in modern morality is any act that could further the disadvantage of minorities. Across much of modern America, Canada, and the UK, bigotry against minority groups is perhaps the greatest sin. Thus, for instance, when the owner of an American sports team’s mistress leaked a secretly recorded phone conversation to the public, the resulting scandal centered not around his infidelity, nor her breach of privacy, but on his expressing antipathy toward the black men she dated on the side. And that offense was severe enough to merit a lifetime ban and millions of dollars in fines from his professional sports organization. Though a history of prior offenses, including some more severe, surely contributed to this outcome, it is still significant that these statements were the hook on which he was finally hanged. Similarly, one might observe that derogatory terms for American blacks are now so taboo that even black employees might be forbidden from using them in their workplace when quoting another person saying them in an anecdote from their own lives.

The more a particular type of vice is magnified in a social setting, the more that the bar for being labelled guilty of this vice creeps ever lower. In an honor culture, for instance, letting even a small and probably inadvertent slight go unanswered might be perceived as meekness and cowardice, and so honorable people – from Greek shepherds to the plantation owners of the antebellum American South – are notoriously touchy.

In our early work on moral culture, Campbell and I examined this tendency by dissecting the newly popular concept of microaggression. This concept, arcane just a few years ago but now in widespread use, refers to minor slights that offend members of disadvantaged social groups. As the prefix “micro” implies, these offenses are what most of us would consider small matters – an insensitive question, an awkward comment, a mispronounced name, and the like. And many of these fleeting offenses are unintentional, perhaps even the result of unsuccessful attempts to be friendly and understanding. Yet they are described not just as a faux pas or misunderstanding or irritation, but as an act of aggression. And they are seen not as trivial, but as something that, through their collective and cumulative impact, are a major source of oppression. Complaints about microaggression well-illustrate the tendency for a moral culture supremely concerned with bigotry and oppression to ferret out ever smaller instances of it, constantly lowering the bar for what words and deeds might be labelled racism, sexism, homophobia, or some other form of collective victimization.

The concept of microaggression, and its rapid growth in popularity, thus made for a good example of the kind of moral trends we sought to examine. And what made the concept most fascinating to us – and to many of our readers – was that many of these supposedly aggressive offenses seemed neither aggressive nor offensive at all. To many outsiders, it is a mystery why mundane statements such as “I like your shoes” or “Where are you from?” were worth complaint, much less allegations of oppression.

Yet the moral changes we wrote about are not limited to people labelling things as microaggressions, nor are they limited to unintentional slights. After all, in a world where conflict happens constantly, there is no shortage of slights that are quite clearly intentional. Actual aggression occurs all the time, ranging from the verbal to the physical. For example, people engaged in conflict regularly insult their opponents in overtly hostile ways. Few observers would find it mysterious that people take offense to intentional insults. But the reaction to insults can still be a good site for observing how the prevailing morality shapes the way people understand and describe the things that offend them.

Consider two recent examples, neither particularly important in itself, but both perhaps showing us something important about how people these days handle conflict.

A few weeks ago a video surfaced on social media showing an altercation between CNN anchor Chris Cuomo – son of one New York governor and brother of another – and a man who harassed him while he was dining with his family in public. The man antagonized Cuomo by calling him “Fredo” – a reference to the book and film The Godfather, in which Fredo, the weak and incompetent second son of a mob boss, is passed over to inherit his father’s position in favor of first his older and then his younger brother. Cuomo responded to the verbal aggression in kind, swearing at the man and eventually threatening physical violence against him. But he also said something rather strange: While recognizing the reference to The Godfather and comparing it to calling his adversary a “punk bitch”, he also claimed that “Fredo” was not just a personal insult leveled at him, but an ethnic slur against all Italians: “Any of you Italian?,” he said, speaking perhaps to both his adversary and to the watching audience, “It’s a fucking insult to your people. It’s an insult to your fucking people. It’s like the N-word for us.” His employer CNN later endorsed this interpretation, stating that:  “Chris Cuomo defended himself when he was verbally attacked with the use of an ethnic slur in an orchestrated setup. We completely support him.”

In doing this Cuomo and CNN transformed what might be an offense against an individual – notably, a prominent member of the media – into an offense against a cultural group. Likewise, they transformed an offense against someone who in other contexts would be described as a member of the majority – a white man – into an offense against a cultural minority – Italians. Through this interpretation the offense is collectivized, and a personal insult becomes an instance of oppressive bigotry. The interpretation might not have been widely accepted (partly because Italian-Americans are rarely considered a disadvantaged minority in the contemporary US), but that it occurred at all is noteworthy.

Another recent conflict to gain social media attention occurred when a college professor posted a snide remark on Twitter referring to New York Times columnist Brett Stephens as “bedbugs.” Though, like the insult against Cuomo, the statement was probably motivated by political differences, it appears to be a personal insult rather than a collective one. Yet Stephens reacted by publishing a column likening the insult to the Nazi dehumanization of Jews, associating it with racial slurs and an extreme instance of racial oppression.

Such reframing of grievances is not unique to contemporary settings. Whenever a society develops an intense focus on a particular set of moral or ideological concepts, all sorts of negative evaluations – whether moral or intellectual or aesthetic — tend to be interpreted in terms of the major moral concerns. For example, many physicists were initially appalled by the strange new concepts in Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity, but their condemnations varied: In Germany, where Communism and Judaism were increasingly seen as the twin evils of the world, Einstein’s work was called Communist and Jewish. In the Soviet Union critics gave it a label that was uniquely harsh in their own ideological realm: they called it bourgeois. Had the theory hit the scene in earlier times, a Persian astrologer might have called it dishonest, a Southern gentlemen might have called it cowardly, and a seventeenth-century Puritan might have called it ungodly. Were it new today, critics in academia and journalism might call it racist, colonialist, or misogynist.  

As Campbell and I wrote in The Rise of Victimhood Culture, the tendency to frame conflicts in terms of the dominant morality – and to make them out to be more extreme than they are, such as being a collective matter rather than an individual one – is intensified by another recent moral trend: The increasing involvement of distant third parties – be they social media sympathizers, government officials, or university bureaucrats – in the handling of grievances. Cuomo did not seek third party attention but was likely aware that the encounter was being filmed and would be seen by the public, while CNN’s statement of support was directed specifically to that public after the video had gone viral. Brett Stephens did seek third party intervention: His letter of complaint to the professor who insulted him was also sent to the professor’s superiors in the university administration – those in a position to censure him if they found his conduct deviant – and of course his column likening the insult to the rhetoric of the Holocaust was aimed at the general public, airing his grievance to a sea of strangers.

Wherever distant third parties play a large role in conflict, there is a tendency for the aggrieved to frame their conflict in terms that maximize the sympathy and support they might receive. If the dominant morality is one in which bigotry by the privileged is the greatest evil, then all complaints – whatever their origin – tend to get framed as complaints about bigotry, and the aggrieved will try to associate themselves with the oppressed and their opponents with the oppressors.

Manufactured Victimhood

Manufactured Victimhood

Bradley Campbell and I have a new piece in online magazine Quillette regarding hate crime hoaxes: “Hate Crime Hoaxes are More Common than You Think.

We didn’t choose the title, and as Bradley notes in this tweet thread, it might not be accurate depending on exactly how common you thought hate crime hoaxes were. But certainly they’re not so rare you can’t regularly see cases of them — we cite a nearly dozen examples in The Rise of Victimhood Culture, most quite recent, and another recent book (which I’ve not yet read) compiled a sample of several hundred cases. And even since we published the piece, Robby Soave at Reason has blogged about another alleged hoax by someone suspected of burning down his own home.

We feel the need to repeatedly clarify — as Bradley does in that thread, and on this media appearance — that real hate crimes (however defined) surely outnumber fake ones. There’s inevitably someone who seems to think we’re arguing no hate crimes exist, or that they’re not important or evil or whatever. But we just happened to get interested in hoaxes and other false accusations, and that’s what we’ve been studying for years.

Our work on victimhood culture started with false accusations and hoaxes — an area of overlap between his work on genocide (for instance, the Nazi’s conspiracy-theory grievances against Jews) and my own interest in the sociology of ideas and its connections to the study of conflict (including things like witchcraft scares, Blood Libel, and rumors that spark riots).

Investigating a panic over a fictional Ku Klux Klansman at Oberlin College, we soon disocvered a hate crime hoax involving racist grafitti and the website Oberlin Microaggression. It struck us that there was some common thread between a ready willingness to believe that Klansman stalked a 21st century progressive liberal arts campus, a willingness to manufacture collective victimhood with a fake hate crime (and readiness to believe that as well), and a tendency to describe unintentionally rude or awkward statements as a species of “aggression” contributing to racial oppression. We had no motivation more sinister than trying to make sense of several things that seemed odd and interesting to us.

While a lot of recent commentary has focused on the frequency of real versus fake hate crimes, what I would find more interesting is their distribution, both in terms of where they tend to occur (hoaxes seem prevalent on campuses, though I’d bet real cases concentrate among less advantaged people) and which ones grace the pages of major newspapers (I’d bet cases appearing in the New York Times are fake much more often than the general population of cases; likewise, with thousands of actual rapes every year that don’t make the news, false accusation against fictional offender Haven Monahan at UVA is the one that got the lengthy Rolling Stone feature).

Another aspect that interests us, of course, is people’s credulity in the face of these things, despite the fact that they’re often poorly done and just seem obviously fake or suspicious to us. Then again, we both read about actual cases of violence (and of false accusations) with some frequency, so perhaps we have different heuristics here. Though when someone writes an op-ed in the Washington Post about how they desperately want to believe an accusation of a horrific hate crime is true, it suggests something more than lack of familiarity is involved.

I suppose some folks find it baffling or nigh-inconceivable that anyone would lie about being a victim. As far as I’m concerned, its also strange to commit actual hate crimes — why attack someone just because of their race or sexuality or whatever? It’s madness, but it certainly exists. People do weird things all the time, whether it’s actual violence or lying about violence. Both are worth understanding.

Talking Heads

Talking Heads

My coauthor Bradley Campbell recently appeared on Exploring Minds with Michelle Carroll. The full video is here. Its probably the best interview either of us has given so far, and Bradley provides a good overview of the sociological background of our work as well as applications to the latest antics on and off campus. 

But of course Bradley has had some practice. Back in July he appeared on The Psychology Podcast with Scott Barry Kaufman  In August he appeared on Ricardo Lopes’s Youtube series The Dissenter and then again on Michael Covel’s Trend Following podcast. In September we both appeared on the Andy Walters interview series. In October, we were interviewed by Iona Italia for her and Helen Pluckrose’s Tea for Two series (oh man, you can tell I overslept and didn’t have time for coffee). We kept away from audio and video during November (though Bradley and psychologist Clay Routledge coauthored a piece for Quillette). Now in December I round out the year with an interview on The Tom Woods Show.

All this and I’ve still yet to meet David Byrne. 

Image by Plismo, Creative Commons 3.0.