ON OUTRAGE AND TAKING OFFENSE

In the 1960s Phil Cutchin was the head football coach of the often hapless Oklahoma State Cowboys. A story was told that Coach Cutchin one day accidentally bumped into a woman as he hurried to a meeting. Ever mindful of his manners he apologized, “No offense, ma’am.” To which the woman replied, “Yes, and no defense, either!”

I smile every time I remember that humorous wordplay on offense. But I do not smile when offense is taken to the level of outrage—when it becomes fuel for the outrage machine that ends careers, ruins reputations, and distorts our public life. We live in a moment when taking offense has become a kind of social currency, and outrage a performance art. It is time to slow the cancel‑culture frenzy that has become far too common.

The Outrage Machine at Work

The examples are plentiful.

A photograph circulated recently of Border Patrol officers on horseback attempting to hold back Haitian migrants crossing the Rio Grande. Advocates of open borders quickly portrayed the officers as racists using whips on the migrants. One Member of Congress denounced the scene as “worse than slavery.” Yet closer inspection revealed that the officers were using reins on their horses—not whipping anyone. The damage, however, was already done. The officers were reassigned to desk duty, the White House condemned their actions, and the Border Patrol was barred from using horses. Outrage had outrun reality.

Several years ago, at a Major League Baseball game, a man reached out and caught a foul ball that a nearby boy seemed ready to catch. Social media erupted. The man was condemned as selfish, cruel, and emblematic of everything wrong with American society. Only later did the truth emerge: earlier in the game the man had helped the boy get a ball, and they had agreed that the next one would be his. But by then the online mob had already rendered its verdict.

During Brett Kavanaugh’s Supreme Court confirmation hearing, one senator declared him unfit for the Court because of comments written in his high‑school yearbook more than three decades earlier. The substance of the man’s judicial record mattered less than the symbolic value of outrage.

Even the way news is packaged reflects this cultural shift. The leads for stories on a popular cable news channel often begin with “outrageous” or “you are not going to believe this,” conforming to the journalistic mantra “if it bleeds, it leads.” Outrage is not merely reported; it is curated, marketed, and monetized.

What Outrage Does to Us

Outrage is not merely an emotional response. It is a social posture. It signals belonging to a tribe. It offers the thrill of moral superiority without the burden of moral responsibility. It allows us to condemn without understanding, to judge without context, and to punish without due process.

The deeper problem is that outrage has become detached from proportion. Minor slights are treated as major offenses. Honest mistakes are treated as moral failures. And once outrage becomes the default setting of public life, forgiveness becomes a foreign language.

Outrage also erodes the habits that sustain a free society. It undermines the presumption of innocence. It discourages nuance. It rewards speed over accuracy. It trains us to react rather than reflect. And it creates a climate in which people fear speaking, writing, or even joking lest they stumble into the crosshairs of the next digital mob.

Recovering Proportion and Perspective

A healthy society must distinguish between genuine wrongdoing and mere imperfection. It must allow for context, intent, and human fallibility. It must remember that people are more than the worst thing they have said or done—or the worst interpretation someone else has placed upon it.

This does not mean wrongdoing should be excused. It means judgment should be tethered to truth rather than to the emotional temperature of the moment. It means we should resist the temptation to weaponize offense. And it means we should cultivate the older virtues that once governed public life: patience, charity, proportion, and the willingness to hear the whole story before rushing to condemn.

A Better Way Forward

The antidote to outrage is not apathy. It is discernment. It is the ability to say, “This matters, and that does not.” It is the discipline to pause before reacting, to ask whether the story is complete, and to remember that human beings deserve the dignity of being understood before being judged.

Coach Cutchin’s accidental bump and the woman’s witty reply remind us that offense can be handled with humor and grace. Today, we need more of both. We need to recover the ability to laugh at ourselves, to forgive others, and to resist the seductive pull of instant indignation.

Outrage may be loud, but wisdom is quiet. And in a culture addicted to outrage, choosing wisdom is itself an act of courage.