If you spend any time online, you probably know about “cancel culture.” A celebrity is exposed for something they said or did at some point in their life and the entire internet vows to exile them from the realm of popularity, effectively canceling them.
The phenomenon of “canceling” has even spread to ordinary people, with colleges and jobs receiving emails from thousands of angry internet users when a video of someone saying a racial slur or behaving inappropriately surfaces.
Cancel culture has targeted public figures in every sector, from online influencers like James Charles, who was canceled over child grooming allegations, to actors such as Armie Hammer and musicians including Aerosmith’s Steven Tyler, who were both canceled due to allegations of sexual misconduct.
But recently, discourse surrounding cancel culture has become contentious, with some calling to “cancel cancel culture” for its harsh, mob-mentality nature and its stifling of free expression and engaging dialogue. Additionally, many feel it is controversial to prioritize public shaming over actual accountability, which often lacks solid evidence to back up accusations.
However, I think the problem lies not in canceling itself, but in the disproportionate way its effects take shape. Ordinary people lose their jobs, relationships and reputations permanently, while those in positions of power and fame are protected by their wealth and loyal audiences, continuing to sell out arenas and top charts as if nothing happened.
This disconnect can be seen clearly in the music industry, where success is uniquely quantifiable through streams, chart positions and ticket sales. When examining those statistics for some of the most resoundingly “canceled” artists of the past few decades, a clear pattern emerges — they have not been as affected by their cancellation as one would think. The outrage felt toward them online and their adoring audiences appear to exist on two totally separate planes.
Someone who immediately comes to mind as an example of this is Ye, formerly known as Kanye West. Ye has always been a controversial figure, but the height of his backlash began in 2022 when a series of antisemitic, pro-Nazi comments led to his loss of many major partnerships, including ones with Adidas and Balenciaga and even government intervention, such as bans preventing him from traveling to both Australia and the United Kingdom.
While these may seem like very real and tangible professional consequences for his insensitive comments and explosive outbursts, the same results are not visible within Ye’s audience. He still receives over 35 million streams a day on Spotify and his single “FATHER” off of his new album “BULLY” is currently within the top 40 songs on the Billboard Hot 100. Additionally, despite the recent cancellation of the UK’s Wireless Festival that he was set to headline — since he is banned from the country — his shows are still booming in popularity. He played two sold-out shows at Los Angeles’s SoFi Stadium in early April, bringing in $33 million in ticket sales despite minimal marketing. Considering this, it is safe to say that canceling Ye has not deterred his audience from supporting him.
It is worth noting that Ye has since apologized for his antisemitic rhetoric, attributing his actions to manic episodes of bipolar disorder. And perhaps his audience’s continued loyalty reflects belief in rehabilitation. But not everyone is given the luxury of reform or allowed to stay in the spotlight despite their controversial past. When it comes to canceling normal, nonfamous people, the effects are often permanent.
Celebrities don’t survive their cancellations because they are forgiven for their wrongs or because people don’t care about what they said. They survive because their fame itself protects them. Their wealth, platform and loyal audiences run deeper than any news cycle or Twitter callout. Ordinary people don’t have these buffers.
In 2013, Justine Sacco, an ordinary woman with no fame or large social media presence, tweeted an insensitive joke before her flight to South Africa — “Going to Africa. Hope I don’t get AIDS. Just Kidding. I’m white!” Before her plane even landed, she was fired from her job and trending on Twitter — effectively canceled. One tweet, from an account with 170 followers, dismantled years of her career and personal life in the span of an 11-hour flight. This is not to say that what she tweeted was right by any means, but still, one comment upended her whole world.
This directly contrasts Ye’s experience with cancellation — whereas years of insensitive comments by Ye have landed him 35 million daily streams and sold out stadiums, one insensitive comment dismantled the life Sacco had built.
Brian Leach, a 54-year-old man who = worked the checkout line at a UK grocery store for five years, was dismissed in 2019 because he had shared, to his private Facebook account, a post by comedian Billy Connolly about religion that was deemed offensive by one of his coworkers. He was given no notice about his dismissal and did not have union resources to appeal the decision.
The contrast between ordinary people and celebrities is distinct in Leach’s case. A post to a private social media account can lead to the loss of one’s job in the case of an average person, but a celebrity can repeatedly post offensive content publicly to millions of followers and continue on without pause.
While I may not believe in permanent cancellation, as Sacco faced, I believe the consequences of cancellation should not be so drastically different for celebrities and ordinary people. Fame and wealth should not be a “get out of jail free” card.
This is not to say accountability doesn’t matter. In cases of serious, documented harm, consequences are warranted and necessary. But accountability means nothing if it only lands on those without the resources to absorb it. We must hold celebrities to higher standards and that starts with remedying the disconnect between online outrage and devoted fandoms.
So the next time you stream a canceled artist or say “But he made ‘Graduation,’” remember the shield it gives the celebrity from facing the consequences of cancellation. Our streaming habits and fanbase loyalty provide them with that insulation and allow them to survive controversy — but would someone like us be given the same grace?
Danica Lyktey, a sophomore double-majoring in psychology and philosophy, politics and law, is a Pipe Dream assistant opinions editor.
Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.