Smoke, Mirrors, and the Moral Panic Machine
How society loses its mind—and who benefits when we do
I remember the first time I saw real fear set in over something imaginary.
It was the early '80s, and the whispers at school weren’t about kidnappers or grades or nuclear war—it was Dungeons & Dragons. A friend’s mom said it opened a “portal to the demonic.” Another claimed a boy in St. Louis got lost in the sewers playing it. The evening news added a creepy synth soundtrack and aired a special on teens "descending into fantasy obsession."
Heck, there was even a craptacular TV movie about it starring future America’s favorite, Tom Hanks.*
Aside from the whole “razors in Halloween candy” thing—or the “Halloween is a satanic holiday” thing—that was my first brush with a moral panic.
I was around twelve. The only portal I opened was to a group of kids who liked dice and stories.
What is a Moral Panic?
Sociologist Stanley Cohen coined the term in 1972. Studying the British youth clashes between “Mods and Rockers,” he observed something familiar: the media didn’t just report the conflict—they amplified it. They cast everyday teenagers as existential threats to social order.
Cohen defined a moral panic as a moment when a group, behavior, or symbol is exaggerated as a menace to societal values. The panic is nearly always disproportionate to the actual threat—and often fueled by those with something to gain.
Anatomy of a Panic
Moral panics tend to follow a familiar arc:
1. A perceived threat.
Something—real or imagined—is labeled a danger to societal norms.
2. Media amplification.
News outlets seize the story, giving it front-page urgency and often inflating it beyond recognition.
3. Public anxiety.
Emotions flare. Context fades. “What if my kid is next?”
4. Official reaction.
Authorities step in with policy changes, restrictions, or arrests—usually to “restore order.”
5. Long-term fallout.
Even when disproven, the damage remains: reputations ruined, communities fractured, freedoms curtailed.
The Cast of Characters
Moral panics always have a few starring roles:
Folk devils – The scapegoats. Teenagers, immigrants, LGBTQ+ people, drag performers, gamers. Anyone slightly outside the norm becomes a convenient villain.
Moral entrepreneurs – Politicians, pundits, or public figures who ride the wave. They frame themselves as protectors of “values” while often inflaming the fire for personal gain.
The media – Not always malicious, but rarely cautious. If it bleeds—or provokes outrage—it leads.
The panicked public – Often sincere, sometimes misled, almost always caught in the middle.
A Greatest Hits of Moral Panics
Let’s take a quick tour:
The Salem Witch Trials (1692)
Mass hysteria fueled by religious zealotry and local grievances. Nineteen people hanged. The facts came too late.
McCarthyism and the Red Scare (1950s)
The hunt for communists led to blacklists, ruined careers, and a climate of suspicion—all based more on fear than evidence.
The Satanic Panic (1980s–90s)
Daycares accused of cult rituals. Rock bands blamed for suicide. Dungeons & Dragons labeled demonic. Few claims were ever substantiated.
Video Game Violence (1990s–2000s)
Mortal Kombat, Doom, Grand Theft Auto. A new generation of scapegoats. Congressional hearings, but little proof.
Modern moral panics?
TikTok “challenges,” book bans, AI taking over the world, fentanyl-laced Halloween candy. The template hasn’t changed. Only the hashtags.
Why They Catch Fire
Fear is efficient. Moral panics offer clarity in a world that rarely provides it.
They work because they:
Validate our suspicions
Simplify complex problems
Provide a target
Help people feel like they’re “doing something”
And for politicians or influencers looking to gain traction? Outrage is a marketing strategy. Fear sells.
The Price We Pay
Once the dust settles, the receipts roll in:
Communities scapegoated
Innocent people jailed
Rights chipped away
Resources misallocated
Cultural divides deepened
And often, the real problem—poverty, education, mental health—goes unaddressed.
Can We Resist the Panic?
We can’t prevent all moral panics. But we can see them for what they are:
Ask who benefits.
Question the framing.
Look for data, not vibes.
Be wary of any claim that demands your panic before your understanding.
And maybe, most importantly—don’t share it until you’ve checked it.
Hold Fast
After my father passed earlier this year, I began wearing a small bracelet. It simply reads: Hold Fast.
It’s an old sailor’s term. A command shouted in storms—grip the rigging, don’t let go, ride it out. Panic helps no one when the sea is surging.
When the next wave of outrage crashes through your feed, when the panic merchants demand your fear, when society starts pointing fingers in the dark?
Hold fast. The storm will pass. It always does.
*(Mazes and Monsters, 1982. The moral panic made-for-TV milestone nobody asked for.)