Is cancel culture a panic? A review of The Cancel Culture Panic by Adrian Daub
For a while, I have wanted to read an extended critique of concerns about freedom of speech. Ample time has been devoted (including on this Substack) to the articulation of such concerns, yet there are many people (mainly left-liberals) who regard cancel culture as exaggerated. Therefore, I was happy to see the publication of The Cancel Culture Panic: How an American obsession went global by Adrian Daub, a Professor of German and Comparative Literature at Stanford University.
For Daub, ‘people talk about cancel culture so that they don’t have to talk about other things… [such as] problems of labor and job security, problems of our semi-digital public space, problems of accountability and surveillance.’ Therefore, a ‘moral panic’ has developed in which (mainly) conservatives exaggerate problems on university campuses. Daub thinks little of commentators such as Jordan Peterson, Chris Rufo and Dinesh D’Souza, dismissing ‘the often abysmal quality of their texts’ and their ‘sloppy and careless’ analysis.
When Daub critiques such writers, he is on solid ground. As I have said before, I worry about the tendency for commentators outside academia to exaggerate problems in universities for their own purposes. In the parts of the book which reviewed these authors and regretted their global influence, I found myself nodding in agreement.
Daub makes important points about methodology. Even if one acknowledges that the freedom of speech rights of certain people have been violated – and almost every campaign can point to cases of genuine victimization – the question is how much significance one should attach to these cases.
Of course, some conservatives do not reflect on this and exaggerate the importance of such cases, Daub dedicating several chapters to this phenomenon. Yet these culture warriors are easy to critique; instances of victimization are more difficult to explain. Though he acknowledges legitimate cases such as Alison Roman, David Shor and Greg Patton (‘something went seriously wrong when it comes to these individuals’), Daub dedicates little space to exploring what exactly went wrong. Given his point about the methodological significance of individual cases, this is quite an omission.
A section on self-censorship has particular issues. Many critics of cancel culture overlook this dimension of freedom of speech, yet it is pivotal and Mill dedicates a considerable part of On Liberty to the problem. Daub deserves credit for addressing it and acknowledges the (discouraging) results of polls on self-censorship. But in seeking to minimize such data, he makes some questionable assertions.
Unwisely (see below), he dismisses the methodology of relevant polling (‘One gets the impression that these surveys were created to precisely deliver the kinds of dramatic results that can then be ground up in cancel culture philippics’). Moreover, he points to much more indirect restrictions on self-expression (‘There was simply no space in this survey for the answer: “I censor myself—for example, by not making my race, gender, sexuality, identity, or culture an issue.”) and argues that, in certain cases, self-censorship is mere politeness (‘It is unlikely that, say, a Black man who is a fervent supporter of Black Lives Matter would go around sharing that position unbidden with, say, his pharmacist or his car dealer.’).
These sidesteps are unconvincing. We should note Habermas’ concept of the public sphere, a space between state and society in which rational conclusions about the issues of the day are reached. This is a fundamental part of liberal democracy and broader questions of discrimination and private civility should not be conflated with it. Academia is a crucial part of this public sphere and, if researchers and students are engaging in public self-censorship – returning to Daub’s example, let us imagine that the fervent supporter of Black Lives Matter were self-censoring in seminars – this will not do. If such restraint is mere politeness, why do conservatives report higher rates than liberals?
The origins of the freedom of speech crisis (or panic) is a related question. Given Daub doubts the extent of this, he must demonstrate its spurious origins. Therefore, much of The Cancel Culture Panic concerns the spread of American discourse about universities to other Western countries,
‘[Cancel culture] discourse, which was once as quintessentially American as only a Fourth of July address at Mount Rushmore could be, has long since become an export item… this American idea travels the globe in journalism and books. Articles the world over have cast a gimlet eye on US campuses. An entire class of experts has emerged, even if their expertise mostly consists of having been to a US campus, or knowing someone who has.’
Yet despite America’s cultural reach, this can be overemphasized. Countries do not import American concerns indiscriminately; they adopt those which speak to national contexts. The Harvard political scientist Pippa Norris offers a more convincing account. In a survey of almost 2500 academics in over 100 countries, she finds a ‘fish-out-of-water’ effect. In developed countries with liberal cultures, conservative scholars report threats to freedom of speech. In developing countries with conservative cultures, liberal scholars report such threats.
Norris’ explanation is economical; those scholars who go against societal trends are vulnerable to kickback. The strength of this argument is its international data. Given the breadth of the trend, it seems to have an independent basis and (in many cases) to be weakly related to American cultural pressure. This explains recent trends in the West. As societies (and universities) have become more liberal, conservatives have perceived greater pressure.
Of course, it is not as straightforward as this. In the last fifteen months, radical left-wingers – who are not liberals and hold some very unpopular ideas – have faced great pressure over support for Palestine, particularly in Germany. Given Daub’s specialism in Germany and the space he dedicates to discussions of the German press, it is a shame he did not reflect on these cases (perhaps the publication schedule precluded this).
Overall, The Cancel Culture Panic advances debates about academic freedom and cancel culture, developing an interesting ‘moral panic’ hypothesis. When Daub addresses the likes of Jordan Peterson and Chris Rufo, he is convincing. But on more difficult targets, he lands few blows.
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Another good post Thomas.
This phenomenon has been a part of history for centuries. The Khannas—whisperers and deceivers—who instigate division, are not a new occurrence. Today, these forces often operate within the same countries that actively oppose the Palestinian cause.
The process of managing and analyzing anger, of collectively processing emotions through dialogue and debate, is something that resonates deeply with me. Islam teaches that if debates fail to yield results, the side threatened by the spread of the opposing viewpoint—usually because it is logical and legitimate—resorts to noise, chaos, and manipulation, rallying a majority against the individual expressing their views. A unnatural front forms in opposition.
However, today, this process has evolved into a far more organized system. In many cases, it is now driven by cyberpunk groups and individuals with harmful, sometimes exploitative motives, posing a direct threat to me in Iran. Given the lack of legal protections, these people—many of whom I once trusted—now create defamatory content about me and prevent my voice from reaching others.
Although the government doesn't take significant action against them, much like anywhere else, certain actions are considered inappropriate here. However, Iran is an Islamic country, and certain behaviors contradict the values upheld within the society. What led me to distance myself from this group is something that has now been proven to be correct: the pervasive narcissistic disorder and the deep-seated inability to accept criticism within this group. I have repeatedly offered to engage in dialogue and debate to resolve the issues, but their vengeful spirit and the desire for attention and fame within their internal circles matter more to them than the harm they cause to me. Their actions have shown that their pursuit of public recognition is more important than any genuine resolution.
Their attacks have continued to this day. Due to past mistakes, they persist in threatening and blaming me. Their methods are professionally executed. They have turned my family against me, and as a result, no one believes what I say. Their persistent pressure, combined with my existing struggles with depression and anxiety, has effectively confined me to my home.
This group, some of whom have connections with Saudi Arabia and the Zionist regime and are financially supported through cryptocurrencies, has targeted individuals in Iran who are involved with the movement for the End-Time Savior, Imam Mahdi. This movement has gained considerable support, especially among the underprivileged in both cities and villages.
The consequences of these actions have been severe, resulting in direct threats, although they quickly erase any trace of such incidents. Using symbolic language, they generate so much content against me that at times, I am forced to stop my work, fearing harm to my family. My concern is not for myself, but for their safety.
All of this started with my former partner. He became involved with a group on Twitter, and despite my struggles with addiction at the time, this group never extended a helping hand. Over time, I realized that it was a carefully planned separation. They gradually distanced him from me, and eventually paired him with someone who, in terms of "astrology", "numerology", "angelology", "cabala", and "demonology", was considered a “perfect eternal” match for him.
Meanwhile, I was left to face the depths of loneliness, isolated in my room for years. I acknowledge my own weaknesses, but these people have made my healing process incredibly challenging, and they continue their actions without any sense of shame.
They have hacked into my phone and computer, and even when I changed devices, they managed to find ways to access my information. Last year, I discovered that they had sent someone to tempt me back into addiction. They’ve even circulated this narrative among themselves, framing it as a symbolic story.
Since the beginning of November this year, I have been entangled with this group, trapped in my home, constantly analyzing and investigating them. I’ve identified several cryptocurrencies they are linked to, such as Solana, XRP, and others. Disturbingly, I’ve even traced some connections to Unit 8200, the intelligence division of the Zionist military.
Whenever I attempt to reach out to others, they use mind engineering, AI tools, and direct interference to sever my communications. At this point, I am uncertain whether this message will even reach you. They frequently manipulate the content I see, using spoofing and impersonation techniques to show me altered versions of reality.
I first noticed this early on. When I would send messages, the recipients would mention mismatched timestamps or note that photos and messages were not being delivered properly. Since then, even my own family has been unwilling to sit down and listen to my side of the story.