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In this series, we’ve explored the oppressor/oppressed lens—a framework that divides society into those with power (oppressors) and those without (oppressed). The first post traced its roots to the Combahee River Collective, Paulo Freire, and Kimberlé Crenshaw, showing how intersectionality and class consciousness shaped a tool for naming systemic injustice, though Freire’s ideological focus sidelined factual learning. The second post examined its modern applications through Judith Butler’s fluid view of power, Robin DiAngelo’s struggle session-like workshops, and John McWhorter’s critique of its dogmatic turn. While the lens has illuminated real harms, it often oversimplifies morality, fosters division, and stifles dialogue. In this final post, we’ll dig into its deepest limitations with insights from Peter Boghossian, James Lindsay, Jonathan Haidt, bell hooks, and Joe L. Kincheloe. Then, we’ll propose a more nuanced moral framework for navigating our complex world.
The Lens’s Fatal Flaws
The oppressor/oppressed lens promises clarity: identify the oppressor, uplift the oppressed, and justice follows. But in practice, it falters as a universal moral guide. It reduces people to group identities, suppresses critical inquiry, and fuels tribalism, leaving little room for the messy realities of human experience. Five thinkers help us see why—and point toward a better way.
Peter Boghossian: Stifling Inquiry
Peter Boghossian, in How to Have Impossible Conversations (2019), argues that the oppressor/oppressed lens creates ideological echo chambers where questioning is taboo. He describes how labeling someone an “oppressor” based on identity—like race or gender—shuts down dialogue, as dissent is framed as defending privilege. For example, in a college seminar, a student questioning a claim about systemic racism might be silenced with accusations of “fragility,” echoing DiAngelo’s tactics. Boghossian emphasizes that true critical thinking requires open inquiry, not moral litmus tests. The lens’s binary framing discourages this, turning discussions into battles over who’s “right” rather than what’s true. By prioritizing ideology over evidence, it undermines the very understanding it seeks to foster.
James Lindsay: Ideological Rigidity
James Lindsay, through his work in Cynical Theories (2020) and on New Discourses (https://newdiscourses.com/), argues that the oppressor/oppressed lens, rooted in critical theory, imposes a power-obsessed worldview that distorts reality and suppresses dialogue. He contends that the lens reduces every issue—from education to science—to a battle between oppressors and oppressed, deeming “oppressed” perspectives inherently valid and “oppressor” ones suspect. For example, Lindsay cites school restorative justice programs, which often prioritize systemic oppression narratives over individual accountability, leading to increased classroom disruption (New Discourses Podcast, Ep. 160). On X, a scientific study might be dismissed as “colonial” if it challenges the lens, ignoring empirical evidence. Lindsay warns that this creates a moral absolutism where questioning the lens is equated with upholding oppression, stifling reason and fostering division. Like Freire’s class consciousness, this rigid ideology prioritizes narrative over nuance, limiting our ability to address complex problems.
Jonathan Haidt: Moral Tribalism
Jonathan Haidt, in The Coddling of the American Mind (2018) and The Righteous Mind (2012), shows how the lens fuels moral tribalism—dividing society into “us” (the oppressed or their allies) and “them” (the oppressors). He argues that it amplifies cognitive distortions, like catastrophizing, where minor slights are seen as existential threats. For example, a workplace disagreements might escalate into accusations of “oppression” if framed through the lens, as seen in DiAngelo-inspired DEI sessions. Haidt’s research on moral foundations suggests humans value not just fairness (the lens’s focus) but also loyalty, care, and liberty. By fixating on oppression, the lens neglects these other values, alienating people who might otherwise support justice. This tribalism turns potential allies into enemies, undermining collective progress.
bell hooks: Division Over Solidarity
bell hooks, in Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center (1984), critiques the oppressor/oppressed lens for fostering division rather than solidarity. She argues that pitting groups against each other—men vs. women, white vs. Black—reinforces hierarchies rather than dismantling them. For hooks, true liberation requires love and mutual understanding, not just naming oppressors. For instance, a feminist movement that vilifies all men as oppressors, as the lens might encourage, alienates male allies and ignores how class or race complicates gender dynamics. hooks’ vision of a “beloved community” emphasizes shared humanity over binary conflict, offering a moral framework that transcends the lens’s zero-sum approach.
Joe L. Kincheloe: Contextual Complexity
Joe L. Kincheloe, in Critical Constructivism: A Primer (2005), offers a nuanced alternative to the oppressor/oppressed lens by emphasizing that knowledge and power are co-constructed through social, cultural, and historical contexts. Building on social constructivism, Kincheloe argues that truth is negotiated through critical dialogue and evidence, not merely a function of power, rejecting the radical relativism that can accompany postmodern interpretations. He advocates empowering students to analyze their realities collaboratively, questioning how power shapes knowledge without reducing issues to a binary of oppressors vs. oppressed. For example, a teacher might guide students to investigate how local economic policies impact their community, fostering shared inquiry that considers multiple perspectives and real-world consequences. Kincheloe critiques universalizing frameworks like the oppressor/oppressed lens for ignoring local nuances and individual agency. By promoting a critical consciousness rooted in contextual, evidence-based analysis, he supports a moral framework that values complexity and collaboration over ideological absolutes.
A Better Way Forward
The oppressor/oppressed lens has illuminated systemic wrongs, from Maya’s workplace barriers to the interlocking oppressions Crenshaw described. But as Boghossian, Lindsay, Haidt, hooks, and Kincheloe show, it falls short as a moral compass. It stifles inquiry, rigidifies thought, fuels tribalism, divides communities, and oversimplifies power. So, what’s the alternative?
A more nuanced moral framework starts with three principles:
- Context Over Categories: Instead of judging people by group identities, consider their actions and circumstances. A white worker struggling with poverty isn’t inherently an “oppressor,” just as a wealthy person of color isn’t automatically “oppressed.” Context, as Kincheloe’s critical constructivism and Butler’s performativity suggest, reveals the fluidity of power.
- Dialogue Over Dogma: Following Boghossian and hooks, prioritize open conversation over moral litmus tests. Ask questions, listen, and assume good faith, even when views differ. This builds bridges, not walls.
- Shared Humanity Over Tribalism: Inspired by hooks and Haidt, focus on common values—care, fairness, resilience—rather than pitting groups against each other. Solutions to injustice come from collaboration, not zero-sum battles.
In practice, this might look like a workplace addressing Maya’s barriers by examining hiring data and fostering inclusive policies, not just hosting struggle sessions. Or an X discussion where users debate ideas with evidence, not identity-based accusations. This framework doesn’t ignore systemic issues—it builds on the lens’s insights—but approaches them with humility, curiosity, and a commitment to unity.
Closing Thoughts
The oppressor/oppressed lens gave voice to the marginalized, but it’s not the whole story. Its binary moralism, as we’ve seen, often divides more than it heals. By embracing context, dialogue, and shared humanity, we can move toward a morality that honors complexity and fosters progress. What do you think of this approach? Share your thoughts in the comments—I’d love to hear how you navigate these issues.
Sources: Peter Boghossian’s How to Have Impossible Conversations (2019), James Lindsay and Helen Pluckrose’s Cynical Theories (2020), New Discourses (https://newdiscourses.com/), Jonathan Haidt’s The Coddling of the American Mind (2018) and The Righteous Mind (2012), bell hooks’ Feminist Theory: From Margin to Center (1984), Joe L. Kincheloe’s Critical Constructivism: A Primer (2005, p. 23).
Epilogue: Reflecting on Truth and a Path Forward
This series has unpacked the oppressor/oppressed lens, a framework that shapes how we view justice and morality. We traced its roots to intersectionality and class consciousness, explored its modern misuses—from struggle sessions to dogmatic cancellations—and critiqued its limitations with insights on power, tribalism, and solidarity. The lens reveals systemic wrongs, like Maya’s workplace barriers, but its binary moralism often fuels division over dialogue.
We proposed a better way: a moral framework of context over categories, dialogue over dogma, and shared humanity over tribalism. This approach tackles injustice with nuance—think workplaces analyzing hiring data, not just moral confessions, or X debates grounded in evidence, not accusations. It honors complexity while fostering progress.
Why explore these ideas? For me, it’s about pursuing objective truth and working across divides—the only way forward, in my view. The lens’s ideology, from rigid narratives to tribal pile-ons, obscures truth and fractures us. I’m driven to seek truth through reason, as Kincheloe’s critical constructivism urges, and to bridge gaps, as hooks’ beloved community envisions. Truth and unity require tough conversations, not moral absolutes.
I invite you to reflect: How does the lens shape your world? Can we collaborate across divides? Try applying context and dialogue in your next discussion—whether at work or online. Share your thoughts in the comments. Let’s build a path forward together.
In today’s polarized world, the oppressor/oppressed lens shapes how we talk about morality, justice, and power. From social media to workplaces, this framework—dividing society into oppressors (those with power) and oppressed (those without)—is often used to judge right from wrong. It’s a powerful tool, rooted in the struggles of marginalized groups, but is it enough to guide our moral decisions in a complex society? In this blog series, I’ll argue that while the oppressor/oppressed lens has been vital for naming injustice, it falls short as a universal moral compass. Over the next few posts, we’ll explore its origins, its modern applications, its limitations, and what a better framework might look like.
Where It All Began: The Roots of the Lens
The oppressor/oppressed lens emerged from thinkers and activists who sought to understand systemic inequality. One of its earliest articulations came from the Combahee River Collective, a group of Black feminist activists in 1977. In their groundbreaking statement, they argued that Black women faced “interlocking” oppressions—race, gender, class, and sexuality—that couldn’t be separated. Their work inspired the concept of intersectionality, a term coined by Kimberlé Crenshaw in 1989.
What Is Intersectionality?
Intersectionality is the idea that different forms of oppression (like racism, sexism, or classism) don’t exist in isolation—they overlap and compound each other. Crenshaw used the metaphor of a traffic intersection: a Black woman standing at the crossroads of race and gender faces dangers from multiple directions, often ignored by systems that focus on only one form of discrimination. Intersectionality asks us to see how identities interact to shape unique experiences of privilege or marginalization.
A Real-World Example
Consider a Black woman named Maya applying for a tech job. She’s highly qualified but faces rejection. A hiring manager might unconsciously favor candidates who fit a “tech bro” stereotype (often white and male). Maya’s race and gender intersect, creating barriers that neither a white woman nor a Black man might face to the same degree. If she complains, HR might dismiss her concerns, saying the company is “diverse” because it hires women or Black men. This misses how Maya’s specific experience—being both Black and a woman—shapes her reality. Intersectionality helps us understand and address these layered injustices.
Around the same time as the Combahee River Collective, Brazilian educator Paulo Freire was shaping the oppressor/oppressed lens through his 1970 book, Pedagogy of the Oppressed. Freire argued that oppression dehumanizes both the oppressed and the oppressor, and liberation comes through “critical consciousness”—understanding and challenging power structures. His problem-posing education model encouraged dialogue to awaken learners to their class-based oppression, rejecting the “banking model” where students passively absorb facts. However, Freire’s focus on class consciousness has drawn criticism. By prioritizing ideological awakening, his methods often de-emphasize factual knowledge and rigorous, open-ended critical thinking. Critics argue that his approach risks replacing one form of dogma with another, steering learners toward a Marxist view of oppression rather than fostering truly independent analysis. While empowering, Freire’s framework laid the groundwork for a binary lens that can oversimplify complex moral realities.
These thinkers made the oppressor/oppressed lens a revolutionary tool for giving voice to those silenced by racism, sexism, and classism. But even then, its binary framing—amplified by Freire’s ideological focus—had limits, often overlooking the messy realities of human experience.
Intersectionality Today: Misuse and Oversimplification
Intersectionality and the oppressor/oppressed lens are now mainstream, from corporate diversity trainings to online activism. But as they’ve spread, they’ve often been misused in ways that undermine their original purpose. In some settings, intersectionality is reduced to a checklist of identities—race, gender, sexuality—used to rank people as “more oppressed” or “less oppressed.” On social media, this can turn into a kind of moral one-upmanship, where individuals are judged not by their actions but by their demographic categories. For example, a viral X post might call out someone as “privileged” based solely on their race or gender, ignoring their personal struggles or context. This flattens intersectionality’s nuance into a rigid hierarchy of victimhood.
In corporate or academic spaces, the lens is sometimes applied dogmatically. Take a workplace DEI (Diversity, Equity, Inclusion) workshop: employees might be told to “check their privilege” based on broad categories like whiteness or maleness, without considering class, disability, or other factors. This can alienate people who might otherwise support justice efforts, fostering resentment instead of understanding. By treating the oppressor/oppressed lens as a moral absolute, these applications risk shutting down dialogue and oversimplifying complex issues.
The misuse of intersectionality doesn’t negate its value—it’s still a vital tool for understanding layered injustices like Maya’s. But when it’s wielded as a blunt instrument, it can divide rather than unite, turning a framework for empathy into a tool for judgment. This is why we need to question the oppressor/oppressed lens as a universal moral guide.
What’s Next?
The oppressor/oppressed lens, with intersectionality at its core and Freire’s class focus as a foundation, was born from real struggles. But its ideological roots and modern misapplications show it’s not the whole story. In the next post, we’ll explore how the lens is used today, drawing on thinkers like Robin DiAngelo and John McWhorter. Then, we’ll dig into its deeper limitations with insights from bell hooks and Joe L. Kincheloe. Finally, we’ll propose a more nuanced way to navigate morality in a complex world.
Have thoughts or experiences with intersectionality or the oppressor/oppressed lens? Share them in the comments—I’d love to hear your perspective.
Sources: Combahee River Collective Statement (1977), Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed (1970), Kimberlé Crenshaw’s “Mapping the Margins” (1989), Peter Roberts’ “Paulo Freire and the Politics of Education” (1999).
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