Cancel Culture in 2025: Are We Still Offended by Everything?

Cancel culture has transformed outrage into society’s default setting, where being offended is less a reaction and more a competitive sport. The internet’s moral battleground has become so absurdly crowded that even empathy is now a potential landmine. In 2025, everything—everything—offends someone, and the consequences are as baffling as they are severe.

What’s even more galling is the hypocrisy. Those who are quickest to shout others down often fail to consider how their indignation would hold up if they were in someone else’s shoes. Worse still, we’ve entered an era where being offended is often treated as the ultimate trump card—used to shut down dialogue, cancel debates, and cast judgment without context.

Empathy Isn’t Safe Anymore: The Wildfires Example

Take the recent wildfires in Los Angeles, where homes, memories, heirlooms, and entire lives have been reduced to ash. Sympathy for the victims? You’d think that would be a given. But no. Scroll through the comments under news stories, and you’ll find a chorus of people yelling, “What about Palestine? Gaza! They’re suffering more!”

These situations aren’t comparable, and they don’t need to be. Empathy isn’t a limited resource. Caring about one tragedy doesn’t cancel out compassion for another. But the sheer contradiction in these comments does my head in. I wonder—would these same people be so dismissive if it was their home engulfed in flames? If it was their childhood memories, family heirlooms, and sense of safety turned to smoke? Somehow, I doubt they’d be preaching “but Gaza” while staring at the charred remains of their life.

And it doesn’t stop at wildfires. This trend plays out across the board. If a public figure experiences something horrible—an illness, a loss, or even an accident—and the news shares it on social media, the comments are predictable: “What about Palestine?” Well, what about Sudan? Over half the population—25.6 million people—are in desperate need of humanitarian aid. Or Yemen, where millions still face famine? Tragedy isn’t a competition, but social media has turned it into one, where compassion is policed and ranked by perceived worthiness.

This bizarre hierarchy of empathy—where concern for one issue invalidates care for another—has become a hallmark of modern cancel culture. It’s no longer enough to care; you must care in exactly the “right” way, or risk being branded insensitive or ignorant. It’s a cruel irony: the people advocating for humanity often lack it themselves, reducing tragedies to a bizarre competition of moral superiority.

TikTok: Misinformation’s Best Friend

Since TikTok’s rise, the spread of misinformation has been astonishing. People scroll, watch a 30-second video, and suddenly they’re convinced they’ve stumbled upon the “truth” about someone or something. The problem? Most don’t stop to question it. They don’t think, Hang on, I could make a video myself, full of utter nonsense, and upload it tomorrow. Instead, they blindly trust whatever the algorithm serves them.

And that algorithm? It’s designed for engagement, not accuracy. If a fabricated story about someone catches the algorithm’s attention, it can reach millions in hours, sometimes before the accused even knows it exists. By the time corrections or clarifications come through, the damage is done. That person’s life or career could be irreparably damaged, all because someone decided to upload a lie.

With TikTok potentially being banned on the 19th, one has to wonder: could cancel culture lose some of its ferocity? TikTok isn’t the only player in the outrage economy, but it’s uniquely positioned to accelerate it. Without its endless loop of viral misinformation, perhaps we’d see a little less carnage—or at least a slower burn to public condemnation.

The Bigger Issue: Offended by Everything, Empowered by Nothing

Cancel culture’s grip extends beyond the digital realm and into everyday life, shaping how people interact and express themselves. Offending someone—whether intentionally or accidentally—has become the ultimate social crime. Worse still, having a different opinion is now a perilous exercise. In 2025, the unwritten rule is clear: mask yourself. Guard your thoughts. Shape your behaviour to fit an ever-shifting standard of acceptability, lest you find yourself ostracised.

It’s profoundly unnatural. Authenticity, once celebrated as a hallmark of human connection, has been sacrificed at the altar of offence avoidance. We’ve built a culture where people must tiptoe through conversations, carefully curating their words to ensure they don’t trigger backlash. It’s stifling, exhausting, and fundamentally at odds with how humans are meant to connect.

What’s even more infuriating is the hypocrisy of those who champion this culture. Many of the same voices preaching freedom of speech—and encouraging others to “be themselves” or “embrace who they are”—are the first to silence dissent the moment it clashes with their beliefs. Their mantra seems to be: You can say whatever you like—as long as it doesn’t offend me. This double standard has turned free expression into a hollow phrase, wielded as a shield for some and a weapon against others.

And here’s the hard truth no one wants to admit: just because someone is offended doesn’t mean they’re right. Offence is subjective; it’s a reaction, not an argument. Treating it as indisputable truth only fuels this culture of overcorrection, where people are forced to suppress their opinions, ideas, and even their personalities for fear of being called out.

The result? Disagreement is no longer an opportunity for dialogue but an excuse for condemnation. Nuanced debates have been replaced with knee-jerk outrage, and differing opinions are treated as personal attacks. We’ve mistaken conformity for progress and politeness for growth, robbing ourselves of the richness that comes from engaging with diverse perspectives. Worse still, the push for authenticity feels more like a trap than a value, as those who dare to be themselves face the wrath of a culture that tolerates individuality only when it aligns with the crowd.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Cancel culture in its current form is unsustainable. People are beginning to see through the hypocrisy, the performative outrage, and the relentless moral grandstanding. I feel that this year, the panic over offending someone will start to ease—people are tired of walking on eggshells. If TikTok is banned, I believe the pace of cancel culture could slow down dramatically.

I hope people remember that everyone makes mistakes, and that’s okay. A single misstep doesn’t define someone’s entire character, and mistakes are opportunities to learn and grow. After all, I’d love to meet the one person who’s lived life perfectly—if they even exist.

Empathy isn’t a competition, and offence isn’t an achievement. If we can remember that, maybe—just maybe—we’ll stop being offended by everything and start focusing on what really matters.