During our conversation, Wes reflected on the mood that has taken hold across American institutions. He sees the cultural terrain in its wider context, looking to the larger landscape and the broader sweep of history rather than defaulting to reflexive positions.
Wes was born to Korean-American parents who had fled the Korean War. He grew up in New Jersey and later studied history at Rutgers University. He first came to wider attention in 2008 with an essay in n+1 examining Seung-Hui Cho, the Virginia Tech shooter. Since then, his writing has focused largely on American culture.
In 2018, Wes published his first book, The Souls of Yellow Folk, a collection of essays that was widely recognised, including by The New York Times Book Review and The Washington Post.
In 2019, Wes introduced the term “successor ideology” to describe a developing strand of contemporary left-wing thought in the United States centred on identity, intersectionality, and social justice. In his view, this framework does not extend traditional liberalism but displaces it, replacing commitments to free speech, pluralism, and open inquiry with a more moralised and conformity-driven culture. He argues that it carries a coercive edge, presenting itself as progressive humanism while narrowing the space for dissent. The idea gained traction, with some commentators linking it to a broader erosion of liberal norms.
Wes’s pinned post from 2022 on his X account always makes me smile:
In our discussion, Wes outlines the political shift that has accompanied a wider cultural reordering. Institutions that once saw themselves as truth-seeking now often behave as though their role is to shield the public from offence and affirm a particular moral framework. Within that framework, dissent is treated as harm.
Wes’s analysis of America shows how this culture operates through a loose set of beliefs that have replaced older liberal norms. Although presented as progressive and compassionate, it runs on shame, pressure, reputational risk, and a narrowing of acceptable views. These norms are not enforced through law, they are enforced socially, through institutions, media, and professional consequences.
Wes is compelling because of his complexity. He doesn’t fall into conspiracy or caricature, he understands this culture as the result of people adapting to incentives in their professional lives. Over time, what started as a set of ideas has become the environment we live in. This is the water we are swimming in.
Wes highlights how the language of gender identity did not emerge in isolation; it travelled through these same institutional pathways, moving rapidly through schools, professional bodies, media, and healthcare systems. Once embedded, it has become difficult to question without significant social cost. There was no strong evidence base underpinning these set of beliefs, nor a broad public demand. Yet once a critical mass of institutions adopted the framework, others followed. People followed it because they presumed the decision-makers knew better than they did. They also fell into line because of a sense of reputational fear and risk management.
Wes is also attentive to the psychological dimension. He explores the impact of reframing disagreement as harm, and how it is becoming increasingly difficult for people to tolerate ambiguity. The stakes feel higher now when saying, “I disagree.” The phrase “Oh sorry, I made a mistake” somehow feels more loaded than it once did. People retreat into safer, more performative positions, and language has become more sanitised and less satisfying.
And now we have this strange dynamic where, just like before the Berlin Wall fell and during the collapse of communism under Gorbachev, many people privately express uncertainty or concern, yet publicly conform. Over time, this gap between private doubt and public compliance had widened and created a culture that feels more certain than it actually is. It’s little wonder that many of us often feel destabilised and distressed.
What happens to a culture when people stop saying what they actually think? Carl Jung tells us “Loneliness does not come from having no people about one, but from being unable to communicate the things that seem important to oneself, or from holding certain views which others find inadmissible.”
Watch our conversation with Wes here:
