Cancel culture is a tricky subject that suffers from a lack of clearly defined terms. Indeed, some people who have suffered a fate akin to "canceling" have merely been held, at long last, accountable for their actions (Harvey Weinstein is one such person). Those who are wary of cancel culture's excesses do not mean to suggest that it is always wrong, or even usually wrong, to call out bad behavior. It would be ludicrous to suggest that journalists, watchdog groups, and the public should refrain from criticizing powerful people.
But yes, cancel culture occasionally goes too far, causing some person or entity to suffer an unwarranted or overly punitive social sanction because of mob-like behavior on the part of critics. These occurrences tend to attract our attention when they involve people of public significance, like comedians and famous writers, who are often wealthy and well-suited to weathering the storm. This gives the false impression that being canceled is no big deal, or even a positive thing (Dave Chapelle's complaints about being canceled make for comedy gold). For the many, many people who find themselves suddenly dragged on social media over trivial slights—think of the young white woman who infamously posted a picture of her traditional Chinese prom dress, an alleged act of cultural appropriation—this is not the case. In fact, it's quite harrowing when thousand upon thousands of people accuse you, not simply of having done a bad thing, but of being a bad person (a racist, in the case of the prom dress girl). When I say that "cancel culture has gone too far," I don't just mean that it has ensnared too many people, but also that its enforcers tend to essentialize their criticisms—it becomes about a person's fundamental character, not their regrettable actions or words. This is hardly surprising, but social media mobs, it turns out, are not always judicious and fair-minded.
Consider as well that some of the better-known victims of canceling were shamed for regrettable but ultimately trivial actions they had taken as minors. Heisman Trophy winner Kyler Murray was dragged in the media over homophobic tweets he had written a decade ago, when he was just 14. Was it news that a 14-year-old had said something unfortunate? What was the rationale for turning this into a national headline? Do we really want to live in a world where our worst moments are re-lived, over and over again, by vicious virtual throngs?
This is not a policy prescription, but rather a suggestion: We would all benefit from a culture that was a tad more forgiving, that did not hold people (especially young people) to impossible standards, and that waited for facts and evidence to emerge before rendering judgment.