Russell, Oh Russell. . .
I can’t say I was surprised. You probably weren’t when you heard, or won’t be when I tell you. You can be forgiven for not having a clue what I’m talking about. Unless you suffer from a borderline Anglophile personality disorder (check), or find yourself up to your ears in the intersection between culture war issues and philosophical thought (check, check), then I’m not even sure you would’ve seen the story.
But then again maybe I’m the one who’s late to the party . . . no surprise there. The man does have 6.6 million Youtube subscribers. Anyway, long story short . . . Russell Brand—English comedian, writer, media personality, whatchamacallit—has been accused of sexual misconduct, including assault and rape. Shocker, right?!?!?
I’m not interested in defending anything Russell related. I think he’s a clown. And like most clowns, I avoid him. In the words of Carrie Bradshaw, “There’s nothing scarier than a clown.” Full disclosure: I also think he’s likely guilty. In addition to being scary, clowns can be dangerous . . . just ask the residents of Derry, Maine, or Palm Beach, Florida.
The Responses. . .
As you might’ve guessed are utterly predictable. A two sides/same coin situation. On the one hand (arguably the quieter, less popular hand), you have those who point out allegations aren’t facts; that we aren’t justified in passing judgement on them. In fact, we aren’t even arbiters of justice at the end of the day (no matter how much we fancy ourselves such). Determinations of guilt and innocence rest with the courts. We must allow the criminal justice system to function as it’s designed, and in the event of a conviction, we’ll “know” and be free to think what we will. I’ll call this response the “Judicial.”
I’m sympathetic to this side of the coin. I think Kathleen Stock, writing for The Free Press makes an interesting case, while discussing some of the dangers associated with not following it.
On the other hand (arguably the louder, more popular hand), you have those who’ve convened their personal courts, looked at all the evidence they deem necessary and relevant, come to a decision, and either convicted or acquitted in less time than it takes me to decide what I want for dinner. And then have proceeded to air their grievances and opinions to anyone who will listen. I’ll call this response the “Witch Hunt.”
And you know what? I’m sympathetic to this side of the coin too. No need for a reference here, a simple Google search or “doom scroll” on your social media of choice will suffice.
But, this got me thinking.
Received Wisdom. . .
The reason these responses are unsurprising is they’re in no way novel. For all of recorded history, more or less, some version of these two have been our go-to’s in the face of conflicts. We either resort to the courts, i.e., some objective authority, or the court(s) of public opinion, i.e., mob-rule, (I find it odd when people talk about the “court” of public opinion, when there is nothing singular about public opinion, or mobs). They’re “received wisdom,” if you will.
The beauty of “received wisdom” is just that, it’s received. The work has mostly been done for you. As they say, “No need to constantly re-invent the wheel.” And who has time to think these days? Better to get the template, insert the particular variables, and arrive at the end. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am.
But what happens when there are competing “received wisdoms?” That’s when things get messy.
Option One: The Judicial. . .
These days this option seems quaint, almost antiquated. I mean, innocent until proven guilty?!? Really?!? Or how about this, the accuser bears the burden of proof?!? Woah. But, that’s right, the accused has zero obligation to prove their innocence; because remember, they’re innocent until proven otherwise. Insane, right?!? But, I suppose since these principles form the cornerstone of a society based on the rule of law, the “Judicial” is kind of a big deal.
You might be asking yourself, as I did, what is the “rule of law?” It’s a phrase you hear a lot, but one for which many lack a working definition. Well, wonder no more. Here it is. The rule of law is a principle under which the members and institutions of a society are held accountable to laws which are established and well-known, applied equally across the board, and judged independently. What does that mean?
In short, it means rationality runs the day, or at least it should. The idea being it’s dangerous when we let our emotions, biases, and/or inclinations direct our decision making when things like . . . oh I don’t know . . . peoples’ lives are at stake. Abiding by a rule of law takes the guess work out of it.
The rule of law provides a check on our tendency and willingness to fall victim to our own (in)discriminative processes. And most importantly, the rule of law ensures everything you’d want in place in the event you face charges, but which might seem inconvenient if you’re the one doing the accusing. (Have you ever stopped to think how many of our “issues” would disappear in an instant were we willing and able to place ourselves in the experience of another? A thing increasingly considered impossible [a discussion for another day]. I have and it’s depressing.)
So, there’s a strong case for the “Judicial” approach, given its nods to equity, history, tradition, universality, and its commitment to justice to name just a few. But, let’s be honest, it has some drawbacks.
Obviously, the “Judicial” requires an accuser to submit themselves to the courts. This is no small ask. First, there’s no guarantee of “success” in the courts. An astonishingly low percentage of purported sex crimes are successfully tried, meaning they secure a conviction. It’s hard to make sense of this without thinking there must be some “bias,” strongly in favor of men. Granted, we don’t want a system where someone, overwhelmingly a man, is easily convicted without sufficient evidence. But, we don’t want a system rigged against accusers either. And, given all appearances that this is what we do have, it’s fair to ask what’s in it for the accuser?
We can all agree accusations are only accusations, while simultaneously acknowledging a court judgement doesn’t make one a “victim” of a crime. Of course, in one sense it does. But in another sense, it doesn’t. A judgement doesn’t confer a transformative function on events of the past. Reality is reality. If a woman was assaulted or raped, this is true independent of a court finding. The opposite is also true. A conviction doesn’t mean one is necessarily guilty of a crime. There are plenty of innocent people in prison. There are plenty of guilty parties walking free. There are plenty of anonymous victims. There are plenty of known liars. Court judgements are a specific form of knowledge which ideally correspond to reality more often than not, but aren’t perfect. So, is it necessary, or fair to ask a woman to open herself up to a further potentially traumatic ordeal simply to satisfy an epistemology?
Speaking of “further potential trauma,” subjecting oneself to a sexual assault trial is no walk in the park. As I mentioned above, the burden of proof lies with the accuser. She must prove her case and in the process expose herself to cross examination. It seems reasonable that someone who suffered an attack may be remiss to relive the event in a hostile environment, facing questions about what she was wearing, how much she was drinking, or her past sexual activities. And again, to what end? To have her case dismissed? To be told, officially, that it didn’t happen?
So, with little hope of success, no need of validation, and little desire to relive and justify her experience, it’s easy to see why a woman might be reluctant to bring formal charges. Does this nullify her right to tell her story? I don’t think so. But then how?
Option Two: The Witch Hunt. . .
The way I’m using it, the“Witch Hunt” is an umbrella term. It refers to any process of “going public” with one’s story, presumably one accusatory in nature. Its simplest expression might be a Facebook post, an Insta story, or a Tweet. A more elaborate version could take the form of a fully vetted, researched, and investigated piece of journalism, as in Russell’s case.
It’s fair to assume the public airing of grievances has been around for as long as there’s been a public. If it’s not innate, it’s darn close. Public shamings, convictions, and even executions populate history, but with the introduction of the speed, accessibility, reach, and lack of critical reflection associated with social media, these events have taken on a new flavor. No longer is the scope of the offense contained to the local, regional, or even national level. Now, the entire world “knows” what you did and has an opinion about it . . . and you. This is what makes the “Witch Hunt” such an effective and increasingly dangerous tool to employ.
Case in point, the #metoo movement. To date this is arguably one of the more effective modern “Witch Hunts.” In terms of speed, it spread like wildfire. In terms of accessibility, it allowed “average” women to tell their stories about “powerful” men and be heard. In terms of reach, it went around the world, although it seems most influential in America. In terms of a lack of critical reflection, it had us all walking around parroting the absurd slogan, “Believe all women,” as if they were incapable of lying. And it was highly effective, holding “known” perpetrators, think Harvey Weinstein, accountable for their actions both socially and criminally. It clearly did some good.
Are there counter examples? Of course. A famous example is the “re-litigation” of the accusations leveled against Alan Dershowitz stemming from his association with the convicted sex offender Jeffery Epstein. I say, “re-litigated” because Dershowitz had been cleared during an FBI investigation, but with the arrival of #metoo found himself once again forced to defend himself on a completely different front; one in which it was nearly impossible to win. A reality Mike Tunison knows all too well. Tunison was a successful freelance writer who appeared on the “Shitty Media Men List” an anonymous, unvetted Goggle doc full of accusations about men behaving badly. Tunison, to this day, denies all accusations, but no longer makes a living as a writer and has called a suicide hotline at least once after the complete loss of the life and livelihood he enjoyed prior to being publicly outed for things he didn’t do.
This kind of collateral damage is not inconsequential and can occur with either a legitimate or illegitimate “Witch Hunt.” A public trial, regardless of outcome, can ruin a life and the lives who depend on it. In the above cases, Dershowitz had the reputation and financial means to weather the storm, whereas Tunison did not. In Russell’s case, he’s quickly losing his ability to make a living. His Youtube channel has been demonetized. His speaking tour cancelled. The publication of his book suspended. I don’t know anything about his financial habits and situation, so I don’t how this will impact him, but the question remains, as Kathleen Stock asks, “Do we want to live in a world where a simple accusation is enough to have your livelihood taken away from you?” I don’t think we do, but that’s where we are.
But maybe these counter examples are an acceptable rebalancing of the dynamic? “Yes,” the argument goes, “‘Witch Hunts’ will lead to some ‘wrongful convictions,’ but the effect is net positive. If some men have to weather a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ storm, then so be it. This is simply a necessary step toward justice within a system that’s always been tilted against women. In addition,” they might continue, “if you look at all the drawbacks associated with women subjecting themselves to the judicial system, the ‘Witch Hunt’ is the only viable option. We are victims independent of a court finding. We have the right to tell our stories. We shouldn’t have to subject ourselves to further trauma in order to protect the ‘good name’ of our attackers.”
Again, I’m more or less on board here. I am bothered by the collateral damage, but it’s not as though the “Judicial” doesn’t share in this. So, on par, the situation seems a bit “damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” So, why not “do” for a change?
Well . . . And This is a HUGE Fucking “Well. . .”
Let’s say we give the “Witch Hunt” the benefit of the doubt. We know the pros and cons of each, and all things being equal, perhaps the “Witch Hunt” is the better option. Perhaps allowing the court of public opinion to hold sway isn’t such a bad idea after all?
Another full disclosure: when I arrived at this point I would’ve been happy convict Russell along with everyone else . . . but then I kept thinking.
It occurred to me if the court of public opinion has been around for such a long time, there must be some historical precedents we can look to for guidance. These historical examples may show us how to conduct a fair trial via the public and set our minds at ease about possible negative impacts. And boy, was I wrong. I mean, I apologize for burying the lede, but history is not kind to the “Witch Hunt.” Instead of putting our minds at ease, it shows that when it comes to the “Witch Hunt” versus the “Judicial” all things are far from equal.
The most obvious example to start with are actual witch hunts. Witch hunts, most popularly associated with Salem in the US, did not start there. They’d been around a long time before Europeans set foot on this continent, reaching their peak popularity during a 300 year period from 1450 to 1750. During this time alone an estimated 35 to 50 thousand people were summarily executed for being witches.
But, how are they similar you ask? In many scary ways. Both “hunts” rely almost entirely on the words and accusations of an individual, or group. In many cases, theses accusations are the totality of the story, evidence, and testimony available. Likewise, both conduct “trials” with a small, invested segment of the population, and almost always extrajudicially. The resulting convictions stem entirely from this court of public opinion’s evaluation of the first hand testimony.
Finally, the claims levied in both cases are difficult to prove, more often than not having a strong subjective content: placing a spell, casting an evil eye, manipulating the weather, or in the modern cases, untoward advances, inappropriate touching, or sexual violence conducted behind closed doors. While we can agree some of these claims merit more concern than others, it doesn’t change the fact they all tread in ambiguity and uncertainty. A “he said/she said” dynamic. It’s actually quite shocking just how similar they are and that one is widely accepted and practiced, while the other is properly reviled.
But this isn’t the end of the story. There’s another, worse precedent: lynchings.
The disgusting and abhorrent nature of lynchings needs no discussion. Perhaps it’s their grotesque nature which kept you, like me, from making the connection. But, if you look, it’s there. In fact, it’s almost the exact same story. Lynchings are perpetrated on individuals via the claims of a single person, or small group, who make claims which are difficult to independently verify, and are acted upon by a committed minority of invested individuals who act as judge, jury, and executioner. Take the case of Emmett Till.
A young woman, Carolyn Bryant, accused Till, age 14, of making advances toward her in her family’s grocery store. As a result, Till was abducted, tortured, and lynched in Mississippi in 1955. The accusations Bryant leveled at the time were of a sexually “aggressive” nature. There was little to no evidence of any actual impropriety on Till’s part, nothing of course which would ever have justified his murder, and in an interview in 2008 Bryant admitted her accusations were false.
It simply doesn’t require an over stretching of our imaginations to see how the structures of both lynchings and witch hunts mirror that of the modern “Witch Hunt.” But maybe, just maybe, there’s still some wiggle room?
Point/Counterpoint. . .
If you’re thinking (because you studied philosophy much to the chagrin of friends, family, and spouses), that arguments from analogy are some of the weakest arguments you can make, you’re right. But this doesn’t mean they aren’t instructive or illuminating, which they are in this case.
However, one way to address the inherent weakness is to deal with the points where your examples differ. The most glaring difference at hand is that both witch hunts and lynchings end in the murder of the accused, whereas in the case of “Witch Hunts” the thinking goes, no one dies. But let’s not fool ourselves . . . it’s only a matter of time.
The majority of people subjected to “Witch Hunts” routinely receive death threats, opt to employ private security if possible, or are forced into hiding if not, and are essentially hindered from leading a normal life. You don’t have to try too hard to imagine a scenario where Nancy Pelosi was hung in the Capitol on January 6th, or her husband was murdered with a hammer, if things had gone only slightly different. If these had occurred, or when something along these lines does occur, the online assaults launched by the court of public opinion will be directly implicated in their murders. Just because it hasn’t happened yet isn’t a defense.
The second disanalogy to consider is the gendered and racial make-up of witch hunts and lynchings. The victims of witch hunts were predominantly women. Although, there were a few men accused and convicted during the Salem trials. The victims of lynchings were/are exclusively Black men, but if we consider rape and sexual assault of Black women a form of lynching, then the genders would be/are mixed, with an unknowable proportionality. To date, “Witch Hunts” seem to “favor” men, but if you consider the cancellation of someone like J.K Rowling, there would be at least one notable exception. In the end, given the variability across the race/gender board, I’m not sure there’s much of a counterexample case to be made here.
Finally, and less a comparison between witch hunts/lynchings and “Witch Hunts,” and more a consideration of the various forms the “Witch Hunt” can take. As mentioned above, there are a number of different forms of the “Witch Hunt.” Some are simplistic and some are meticulously researched. It seems fair to say we might want to treat them differently. And in particular, I’m thinking about the ones backed by some type of investigation.
At first, these more in-depth “Witch Hunts” might seem harder to dismiss than the ramblings of Twitter trolls, and for an obvious reason, supposedly there’s been some “objective” look into the accusations. And while at first glance this seems plausible, upon further reflection, I’m hesitant to impart a substantive degree of “objectivity” to the journalists who conduct such investigations; especially given the notoriety and financial incentives at play in breaking a big story. At the very least, these ulterior motivations place the journalists’ “objectivity” on a par with that of the courts, albeit weighted toward the victim. Furthermore, requiring a “Witch Hunt” to have a fully investigated media report in support of any and all allegations simply shifts the actions of the judicial branch unto that of reporters. And if the case is not “newsworthy,” then we are back to square one curtailing the right of a victim to tell her story. And none of this in any way addresses how in the world we’re to recognize the “good” investigations from those of the National Enquirer.
If the Gloves Don’t Fit, You Must Acquit. . .
Fallacies are bad arguments. They come in two types: formal and informal. “Formal” fallacies are flaws in the science of logic which lead to an unsound argument. These aren’t relevant in our case. “Informal” fallacies refer to faulty reasoning and make one’s argument untenable. Assuming you care about things like making sense and being consistent, they’re a big deal. And we’re faced with one at the moment, a “reductio ad absurdum.”
A “reductio,” for those in the biz, also comes in two flavors. You can use it as a strategy to work someone into a corner. Most people, wanting to avoid absurdity, will abandon their argument rather than accept an absurd conclusion. I haven’t done this here. I had no conclusion in mind when I began. Nevertheless, I arrived at a point of absurdity by following a line of thought. Truth be told, I’m not happy with this, but here I am.
In order for me to think the court of public opinion has some merit, some validity, some utility, I have to be willing to accept that there are, at the very least, some instances under which witch hunts and lynchings could be legitimate. I can’t do this for obvious reasons. Because while I’m willing to admit I don’t know everything I think, or think everything I know, I’m not willing to give up on the idea that witch hunts and lynchings are bad . . . as in real fucking bad, as in the worst. Given their similarities this means I need to reject the legitimacy of the modern, extrajudicial airing of grievances, i.e., “Witch Hunts,” which have come to animate our public discourse. I can’t have it both ways. I can’t hate witch hunts and love “Witch Hunts” in other words.
Unfortunately, this also means the “good” things associated with the “Witch Hunt” discussed above need to go. I realize this will suck for some people. They’re going to be left with little recourse in telling their stories outside of subjecting themselves to the legal process and the further turmoil/trauma it potentially entails. This is a bummer. I’m sympathetic, but the alternative is more unpalatable and obviously more dangerous. The power, the influence, the consequences of allowing the “Witch Hunt” to function are too drastic, too severe, too unregulated, and too dangerous to allow it a place in a civil society.
The Responsibility is Ours. . .
I chose to write this piece after my thought experiment to show why the “Witch Hunt” needs to go. It has picked up steam and shows no real signs of slowing, to our detriment. I’m under no illusion what I say here will change the world. I would settle for a mind, or maybe even two, but I won’t be holding my breath. There’re things I control and things I don’t. I focus on the former and do my best to tolerate the latter.
When all is said and done, it doesn’t matter whether the “case” is against Russell Brand, or whoever comes next. It doesn’t matter whether I think he, whomever he is, is guilty or not. My responsibility, all of our responsibility, is to withhold judgement in the face of uncertainty and in recognition that failing to do so implicates us in a long and violent history we would do better not to perpetuate in the present, or into the future. Despite it being “our” responsibility, I only have control over what I do. Ultimately, you will have to make the right choice. I can’t do that for you.
The other reason I spent time and effort to craft this piece was to demonstrate my thought process. I began this journey asking what to do in the face of two competing “received wisdoms.” You’ve read my answer.
In short, you have to question . . . them and yourself. And see where you end up.
Maybe you don’t agree with where that is. I don’t care. I’m willing to accept that my conclusion is not the conclusion. It’s a conclusion. What I do care about is that you participate; that you think for yourself instead of simply following the crowd. As Bukowski tells us, “The masses are always wrong - Wisdom is doing everything the crowd does not do.” . . . which today, is think. Don’t worry what people will say or think. You can’t control that. Come to your own conclusion. Hell, show me where you think I went wrong. But don’t sit on the sidelines accepting what “they” tell you. Do it for yourself. We’ll all be the better for it.
“He who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that.”
-John Stuart Mill