Photo by Steve A Johnson on Unsplash
by Edward Hazel (inspired by streaM Freak and Bluelight Recovery Support)
Did you know humans are born with important innate cognitive foundations, but most of the specific knowledge they possess as adults is learned? Yes, we humans are real “pieces of work” (sarcasm).
So, if most of our specifics are learned, is it safe to say humans can unlearn what we’ve been taught and replace the old with new information? Let’s look at punishment and shame.
I know about shame; shame does not simply tell us that we made a mistake. It reaches deeper than that. It touches that part of us that wants to be accepted, loved, forgiven, and considered good. Guilt may say, “I did something wrong,” but shame whispers, “Something is wrong with me.”
Shame can make us hide, apologize for existing, or punish ourselves long after the moment has passed and can become the beginning of a deeper search for healing. This is why the connection between punishment and shame matters so much. It reveals how humans learned not only to obey the rules, but also to fear rejection, carry emotional wounds, and search for a way back to belonging.
Humans are social creatures. Long before written laws, courts, or prisons, survival depended on cooperation. As a trusted member of a group, you received group protection, food, lodging, and companionship. If a member violated the group’s expectations, the member would risk rejection. In this way, shame developed as a social warning system. It told people when they crossed the boundaries, they put the group in danger.
Shame is not private; it is created between the individual and the community. We learn what to be ashamed of through the voices around us: parents, teachers, friends, religions, cultures, and strangers. As children, we may not naturally feel ashamed for crying, asking questions, being loud, needing help, or making a mistake. Shame begins when someone teaches that child that those parts of them are embarrassing, unacceptable, or unworthy of love.
Punishment has always been more than a response to wrongdoing. It is a public message. When society punishes someone, it announces what it values, what it fears, and what it refuses to tolerate. Historically, communities used punishment not only to correct offenders but also to serve as a warning to everyone else. Public humiliation, exile, corporal punishment, and social rejection all depended on an audience. Punishment and shame of a person became a lesson for the crowd, community, and society.
There is a distinct difference between holding someone accountable and shaming them. Accountability focuses on action: what has been done, who was harmed, and how repair can happen. Shame focuses on identity: who the person is, how defective they appear, and whether they deserve belonging. Accountability can lead to growth because it leaves room for responsibility and change. Shame leads to hiding, denial, or despair because it makes the whole self feel condemned.
Shame is not always destructive; a healthy sense of shame can encourage humility, respect, and an awareness of social boundaries. However, shame becomes a danger to us when it is excessive, chronic, or unfairly imposed. Societies have often shamed people not for causing harm, but for being different, poor, vulnerable, sick, foreign, or powerless. This kind of shame is not about morality; it is about control. It teaches some people to be small so others can feel superior. But even deeply learned shame can be questioned; what was taught can be untaught.
Shame can lead to trauma; I remember like it was yesterday. I was sitting on the floor of my bedroom looking at magazines, you know, magazines. My dad opened the door unannounced to tell me he found a car for my 16th birthday. What should have been a joyful occasion to connect with my dad turned into a pure shitshow.
My dad is visibly hurt; his voice was loud and clear: “I came home to tell you I found a car for you, and I see you like this? Forget the car; you don’t deserve it. I don’t know why I even bother doing anything for you. You’re a disgrace…” He comes over to me, grabs the magazines, and takes them outside and burns them in the burn barrel.
I am 15 years old; I recently learned I’m attracted to beautiful nude women found in the media and in real life. It was a natural response my brain and body found pleasing, so what was the big deal? I struggled with that question nearly all my life.
After the sacrificial fire to appease my dad’s godly demeanor of sainthood, his inappropriate reaction had a devastating impact on me that would not easily be resolved. Remember what I said about shame, how it teaches us to withdraw, and how shame is tied to belonging? My dad never spoke about the incident again, but by not speaking about it again, the separation continued even after his death.
I was humiliated, cast out of the fold, and I lost face. This broken unresolved state of being eventually surfaces and turns into hatred and rage toward my parents, particularly my dad. Not only was my relationship with my parents affected, it also impacted how I viewed sex and future relationships. I’ve never shared this with anyone; when I first became sexually active, my choices of sexual partners were not considered attractive. They were women who were not often asked out on dates; therefore, it was a safe bet they would not reject me. My esteem took a heavy blow when I lost faith in myself. My opinion of myself was low and undeserving of happiness or joy. This was who I was and who I would be for the rest of my life.
Modern societies may reject older forms of public punishment, but shame has not disappeared; it has changed shape. Today, social media, gossip, exclusion, public criticism, and permanent records can shame people.
This modern form of shame raises difficult questions. Communities need ways to name harm and protect people from abuse, cruelty, and injustice. But when public judgment becomes a desire to destroy rather than repair, punishment loses its moral purpose, and it becomes a spectacle again. Still, I believe another kind of community is possible: one that tells the truth about harm while also believing in restoration, learning, and the human capacity to change.
I think my life would have been different if my dad had tried to reconnect with me, even if his reaction was bad. Instead, he chose to abandon our family in pursuit of public acclaim and recognition.
Face it, at one time or another we have all experienced shame, whether by public judgment or exclusion, but we don’t have to let it define who we are. Unlearning shame begins with changing that internal voice from telling us we are morally unfit, unsafe, or undeserving of love or belonging in full in society because of something I did or said. After a relapse, shame can be heavier because it is personal, legal, and social. The laws have turned drug use into drug abuse and drug abuse into criminal behavior. Once the law names a person a criminal, the punishment can reach beyond the act itself; it suggests that a person is unfit and undeserving to be a member of society.
Something that has helped me change my inner voice of self-loathing is examining the source of my shame objectively, in the third person as an outside observer. In the case of my father, I know now his reaction was completely uncalled for and something that he might have had a problem with. I came to this revelation after his death when I found a brown leather beat-up old suitcase under his bed while helping my mother go through his stuff. When I opened the bag, not only did I find several hardcore porn magazines but also 8 mm films he and his best friend used to look at. I was appalled when I learned my dad and his buddy used to take their wives to an adult bookstore, my mother, while the women stayed outside waiting for them.
The best advice I can offer about punishment and shame is if you do something outside the boundaries of social acceptance and the law, be accountable for your actions, but don’t be a victim of somebody’s judgment that you are an unfit, unworthy, or unacceptable member of any group, organization, or society. As far as drug use, criminalization may be the law; however, in my opinion, the law is outdated and needs to be changed. By this token, even though the law prohibits drug use and carries a penalty of criminalization, I do not see myself as a criminal because the law, in my opinion, is wrong and outdated. Hmm, maybe real criminals think this way. Nonetheless, shame is something we learned that reminds us we are connected to others. It can encourage humility, respect, and awareness of social boundaries. Shame becomes a danger to us when it is excessive, chronic, or unfairly imposed. Societies have often shamed people not for causing harm, but for being different, poor, vulnerable, sick, foreign, or powerless. This kind of shame is not about morality; it is about control. However, we can unlearn even deep-seated shame by taking responsibility for our actions and rejecting society’s ignorance.
Edward Hazel (also known as M!$TER-ED) was born in 1954. The 1970s were the greatest years of his life. So much was happening then: the Civil Rights Movement, Vietnam War protests, hippies, Woodstock, the feminist movement, gay rights, the sexual revolution, Richard Nixon, Watergate and psychedelics.