IN ALDOUS Huxley’s most famous novel, John tells the residents of the dystopian Brave New World they “neither suffer nor oppose”.

“Getting rid of everything unpleasant instead of learning to put up with it... you just abolish the slings and arrows. It’s too easy,” he says.

The character’s criticisms of simply erasing that which is disagreeable, rather than accepting its difficulties and challenges, feel just as relevant now as when the novel was written in 1931. However, in today’s society, we crush the disagreeable with the weight of our outrage.

There’s nothing especially new about outrage itself - the word has existed since 1300, although it only took on the meaning of ‘injury to one’s feelings’ in the 1700s. But it seems to have picked up a rather wider-ranging definition in recent years, used, as it so often is now, as the great, empty shout of an overreaction.

There was, for example, outrage when Waitrose magazine editor William Sitwell left the publication after mocking vegans.

Pitched a series about plant-based recipes by a freelance journalist, Sitwell replied: “How about a series on killing vegans, one by one. Ways to trap them? How to interrogate them properly? Expose their hypocrisy? Force-feed them meat? Make them eat steak and drink red wine?”

The email, which was published by Buzzfeed, led to online accusations that Sitwell was inciting hatred against vegans.

The previous day, there was fury after it was revealed Lena Dunham will adapt the memoirs of a Syrian refugee for a film. Dunham, an actor, director and writer, was commissioned by Steven Spielberg and JJ Abrams to write the script for A Hope More Powerful Than the Sea, the story of Doaa Al-Zamel’s ordeal as she attempted to reach Europe.

Critics made accusations of ‘whitewashing’ and argued such an adaptation should be written by a refugee or Arabic woman, despite the fact that the original book was written by American Melissa Fleming, without whom the story may never have been told. Mysteriously, both Spielberg and Abrams appear to have escaped such hysterical condemnation.

Outrage also led to suggestions that shopkeeper Apu Nahasapeemapetilon will be written out of The Simpsons after 30 years.

The character - a father, Hindu, doctor of computer science, working man and Indian - has been the focus of increasing ire from fans who say he is little more than a racist caricature.

The idea to cut him from the show came after US comedian Hari Kondabolu produced documentary The Problem With Apu, in which he argued the character is specifically (albeit unconsciously) picked out as an object of ridicule because of his ethnicity.

Sitwell was rude and unprofessional, and his email wasn’t especially funny. However, crucially, it was clearly a joke, and any claims of incitement are ridiculous in the extreme.

Dunham has previously been accused of “hipster racism” for her defence of a writer accused of (although never charged with) rape. Critics also say her series Girls was not diverse enough. But the public’s bile and censure towards her is utterly disproportionate, and she has as much right to do her job as anyone else does, regardless of the unchangeable (and, I believe, irrelevant) fact that she is white.

The actor behind Apu, Hank Azaria, also gives voice to Chief Wiggum, Comic Book Guy, Kirk Van Houten, Johnny Tightlips and Moe Szyslak, among others. Arguing that Apu is a stereotype rather misses one of The Simpson’s best jokes, which is that every character in the series is a stereotype of something.

What is most troubling about all this is that outrage works so well. Its noise silences reasonable disagreement, as well as the further discussion of issues that are really worth a second, closer look. Moreover, those who are so easy to outrage are often those who pride themselves on their tolerance and open-mindedness.

If we keep giving in to outrage - allowing it true legitimacy - we will all be the poorer for it.