When outrage becomes an end in itself, it also becomes a form of fundamentalism and part of a dogma of purity that can be potentially aggressive, hostile and violent. When political activism becomes dogmatic and punishing, it uses the same techniques of exclusion and oppression that it rejects — only now in the name of liberation.

While political purity and fundamentalism are expressions of real distress, they close down self-critical examination of that distress, and our own investments in violence. And, they produce a need for ever more and stronger outrage. Furthermore, if unexamined feelings and outrage always trump arguments and analysis, then the unhappy consequence is that white nationalists and on-campus rapists will be as justified in their claims to victimhood and safe spaces as black men and women abused by police or women who’ve been raped. We need ways of distinguishing between calling in and calling out to fight oppression-based violence.

Leveling violence and harm, and ignoring socio-historical context, risks undermining the voices of victims of the worst abuse and oppression. Comparing the suffering of perpetrators of racial or sexual violence and hate speech to the suffering of their victims is an unacceptable consequence of accepting outrage as the source of moral authority. Comparing the pain and suffering of being raped to the pain and suffering of being accused of rape not only belittles the experiences of the rape victim, but also coops the discourse of victimhood in ways that demand analysis. So, too, comparing teachers and scholars criticizing sexism and racism to perpetrators of violence and hate speech closes down discussions necessary to address — and hopefully overcome — those very harms.

Obviously, as teachers and scholars, we make mistakes and need to be open to interminable education. But the conditions for critical teaching and learning are undermined when feelings are equated with reasons in call-out culture.

Certainly, outrage has a place in the academy and in politics. But when emotional pain and suffering are taken as the foundation of moral authority and cannot be analyzed because they are viewed as absolute truths or obvious facts, the mission of higher education — to examine unquestioned assumptions about the world and the self — becomes a mission impossible.

Although social media can be effective for organizing, and for forming communities (on both the left and the right), it is also often fueled by emotional reaction rather than thoughtful response. Life is flattened to fit the screen, and cute cat videos play next to photographs of the latest atrocity. Social media works by leveling and ripping bits of life from their contexts as a form of entertainment or news — the more outrageous, the better. As consumers, we engage in the virtual performance of pathos and moral virtue with our likes, crying or angry Emojis, and the circulation of outrage or sympathy through sharing petitions or calls for donations.

In academia, social media has become not just a way to disseminate research, or engage in debate, but also a way to close it down by shaming and cyberbullying. Outrage may be the first word in social transformation, but it shouldn’t be the last. In our racist and sexist culture, no one is “pure” when it comes to issues of race and gender, and the moral high ground is always precarious. As teachers, hopefully we can still agree that education has value, especially when it comes to educating each other and ourselves.