Lessons We Didn’t Learn from Justine Sacco
by Ranty Em | Published January 11, 2022
Forward: I’ve written, deleted, and rewritten this series so many times, I’ve lost count. Although I am conflicted about certain elements of public shaming and cancel culture, both topics inextricably connect to core principles that led to the creation of Ranty Em — contextualization and critical thinking in the Digital Age. The more I tried to create a simple post on the topic, the harder it was to write. I will clarify the reason why as this series develops.
In 2013, Twitter canceled PR executive Justine Sacco before online “cancel culture” was commonplace. To be clear, this moment does not mark cancel culture’s origin nor will this post provide a comprehensive historical overview, but check out the links below if you are interested in its evolution. Back to 2013. Sacco posted a joke on Twitter that had a real bad look. Before boarding a plane, Sacco tweeted, “Going to Africa. Hope I don’t get AIDS. Just Kidding. I’m white!” The tweet caught the attention of Gawker’s Sam Biddle. Biddle then spent zero time thinking about what Sacco meant and went straight to publicly shaming her for what he called, “disgusting” and “racist.” And he was not alone.
Don’t get me wrong – there’s nothing quite as satisfying as putting a bigot in their place for the whole Interwebs to see (except for maybe spending some time on Reddit’s r/PowerWashingPorn (you’re welcome). Eager Twitterers congratulated themselves and each other as Sacco’s life unraveled without her knowledge – she was mid-flight when the backlash began and went viral – the schadenfreude building was tangible as gleeful online voyeurs anxiously waited for her to land so she could learn she’d lost her job and had become Twitter’s #1 villain.
Only Sacco wasn’t racist. She was mocking racists and privileged ignorance. The communications executive never dreamed her post would be taken literally. Many – including Biddle – stuck with their shaming and delight, even after recognizing her intention was to mock the very behavior of which she was accused. Many argued and continue to argue that her intent doesn’t matter. I’d argue that’s short-sighted and counterproductive.
So why are we talking about an incident from nearly a decade ago? Sacco rebuilt her life and even returned to IAC, the company that fired her, just four years later. Biddle has even publicly apologized, and they’ve since become friends.
I’m so glad you asked.
We’re talking about it because this is still a BIG F*CKING PROBLEM.
Instead of working to avoid these outcomes, we’ve leaned into them, gamifying outrage and public shaming for entertainment. Justine Sacco wasn’t the first victim of an online mob and her consequences weren’t the most severe, but the scale of sheer delight the Twitterverse took in her downfall was like nothing I’d ever seen. You don’t have to like Justine Sacco’s Tweet to recognize at worst, she was insensitive, tone deaf, and bad at Twitter. And while we all have a responsibility for what we say and write, we also have a responsibility to distinguish between facts and assumptions and recognize when subsequent reactions are based on the latter.
If you’re reading this, you arguably want more than online points (likes, shares, etc.) or entertainment when reacting to offensive posts. We want to combat and deter the hate we see. Then at minimum, we have to hold ourselves to a higher standard when reacting, particularly when reacting online. Ultimately, without impulse control in the face of a knee-jerk emotional reaction, the probability of a disproportionate response is high while the likelihood you have all the details needed to make an informed decision is extremely low.
The truth is there’s no easy solution. But there is a simple starting point. Before reacting based on what you think you know, first seek clarity. If you don’t have the impulse control to first ask, “What did you mean by that?,” then you aren’t in the right frame of mind to respond and should take the time you need to prevent escalating what might be as innocuous as a miscommunication.
In Part 2, we’ll discuss intentions, impact, and the attribution effect.
Additional Resources