Rhetorics of progress (I): Some offences are bigger than others

'Offensive' is a weird word. Many people find many different things offensive. Some pride themselves on being offensive. For some, taking offence is almost a sport, and for others, being cynical and remaining unoffended is a source of smug self-satisfaction. It is also an annoying container term that I wish could be ditched.

 

Vacant claims

The reason why I want to distance myself from "being offended", is precisely because anyone can claim it, and often does so for the wrong reasons. It also implies that the "offender" should change something, apologise, recant, regardless of whether the offended party was right to be offended.

Now, this is a sensitive (!) subject, because we live in a world where advocates of inclusion, whether their focus is on social matters, gender or culture, get constantly told not to be offended, that "they didn't mean it that way", or have to deal with lame fauxpologies.

 

Power differential

Context is everything, but let's take a hypothetical example. I believe that there is no God. Some theists will find this offensive, and a vocal minority will be outraged at someone openly stating their atheism in their presence. However, my not believing in God has no bearing on how they live their life. They can still go to church, rest comfortably in the fact that most people around them share their beliefs, and I don't tell these people they cannot believe whatever it is that they believe.

A different example is that when a woman causes a traffic accidents, some people will be at hand to - all in good jest, surely - blame the accident on the fact that she is a woman. That is really offensive, because it adds some more spice to the steaming dish of sexism and misogyny that our societies constantly have at the ready, effectively barring women from a not so insignificant number of domains, equal rights be damned.

There's another nuance that needs to be made. If someone was to say to me: "I hate straight, white people and I wish they would be executed" that is of course hate speech, but unless that person is directly threatening me or is in a social position to hurt me, it's nothing more than an empty - stupid as it may be - gesture. I would be right to take offence at the statement, but the outrage would be comparatively shallow.

 

Threat and power

Maybe it's more productive, then, to speak about threat and power factors in statements? An analysis of those will always be subjective, and possibly open to abuse from people who thrive on paranoia, but it at least forces participants in a discussion to look at a number of underlying facts instead of yelling "I'm offended!" and/or "don't be so easily offended!".

Another reason for writing this is because language that is fundamental to the cause of progress or the advancement of minorities is continually being re-appropriated by groups in power to portray themselves as the oppressed. This is clear from my example of the atheist statement - and I'll get back to things like this more coherently later when discussing rhetorics. Many American Christians do, in fact, falsely believe they are being oppressed.

 

What we should be asking

If someone says "I take offence at X", it's always a good idea never to summarily dismiss it, but I do believe it should be dismissed if it rests on nothing but false claims. Is there a question list we can tick off? Never completely, because each case is different, but a few questions might help:

1. What is the specific context?
2. Is there an implied threat?
3. Is there a significant power differential?
4. Is someone's freedom being restricted?
5. Does the statement inflict actual harm?

Come back later for more on rhetorics of progress!

Progress and cultural imperialism

Let's get the irony here straight out of the way: my mother language is Dutch, yet I choose to write about socio-political and some philosophical issues in English in hopes of broadening my audience, at the risk of potentially alienating some members of my home audience. So it's kind of rich that I'm going to be complaining about Anglo-Saxon cultural imperialism. But I am. And I must. What's more: as someone who has been deeply immersed in Anglo-Saxon culture, maybe my position makes my criticism more legitimate beyond the average talking point.

For two years in a row, I've participated in discussions about Zwarte Piet, a Belgo-Dutch folklore figure, and its problematic ties to colonialism and racism. In each instance, I've met stubborn resistance from Americans who, like me, also believed that Zwarte Piet was racist, but refused to accept any other type of racism than the one they knew. These were all self-avowed progressives, yet their desire to brand a foreign racist tradition with their own kind of racism made them blind to the cultural realities of the European countries they were criticising.

That's just an example. But, whether left- or right-wing, there is no denying that not only does Anglo-Saxon culture (and predominantly American culture) export itself thoughtlessly as a byproduct of its leading economic role in the world, it also influences media and perceptions in other countries. This is not new. For instance, the often derided hostility to homosexuality in the Middle East and Africa may be an indirect influence of puritan European attitudes in the era of colonization.

By taking so much cues from American culture, we risk setting back a number of debates at home. Obviously, it's a terrible thing that abortion is still an issue in the US, but I don't want to discuss it. It is legal in my own country and there's no point for me to discuss foreign domestic policy that has no impact on me or people around me. The same is true for gay marriage, frat boys' rape guides or access to contraception: these are not really issues in my culture, and having them forced upon me is a waste of time and energy. Yet it's very hard to avoid them because international feminism is so utterly dominated by its Anglo-Saxon variety.

There is a less obvious consequence of this, too. It lulls  Europeans to sleep, smugly comfortable with how progressive they are for not denying women the pill or having something that is at least an attempt at sex education, whereas the Irish and Americans are still stuck in their God-fearing ways. Smugness like this obfuscates that sexism in continental Europe can be just as vile, aggressive and backwards as in other countries, but is so in different ways.

I also want to make a general point about this cultural influence. Engaging more deeply with the 'Anglosphere' is mainly a thing with younger and highly-educated people in the Netherlands and Belgium. Most of these distrust homegrown nationalism, some of these look down on local culture (or did you think it was a coincidence so many Dutch and Flemish bands sing in English?), and a still smaller segment has opted out of Dutch or Flemish culture almost entirely.
 

This is not without danger: it may result in a self-fulfilling prophecy (the more people who turn their back on local culture, the poorer it will become). It may also lead to confusing cultural notions, where you end up not truly belonging to either culture. Instead of forming a synthesis between cultures, you become trapped in a cultural uncanny valley where you are neither a full member of the Anglosphere - and never can be - yet find yourself too distant from your local culture to fully participate in it.

Student life and sexism, revisited

A frat bro in the United States sends an e-mail to his bros how to 'lure rapebait' and apologises after the outcry. The @EverydaySexism channel was littered with demeaning and predatory remarks from British male uni students as freshers' week started. In Belgium and the Netherlands, a lot of student associations have long carried a reputation for boorish sexism in the name of 'tradition', with associated hazing rituals that some consider pointless and humiliating.

Last year, I already wrote a piece on sexism in student life, but I feel the topic is worth revisiting because of my personal experiences. I'm going to be focusing on Belgium here, but I suspect that a lot of what I'm saying will be true for the Anglo-Saxo and German-speaking world as well.

 

First notions

When I was 18 and started my first year at the university, my mind was filled with preconceptions about student life and student clubs. I thought the people involved with the club that was officially affiliated with my study program seemed nice enough, but never went to any of the events with a harder edge. Like most people, I only signed up because they offered a discount on our required reading list.

If you'd have asked me to make a semantic field around 'student club', it would have contained the following words: alcohol, hazing, humiliation, abuse of authority, sexual degradation, bullying, sexual predation, stupidity, pointless rituals and partying.

 

Formative years

Due to circumstances, I became close friends with one of the club's board members in the next academy year, and he slowly introduced me to everybody else. To my astonishment, I was proven wrong about most of my preconceptions (the alcohol and partying thing was totally true, though, and I have zero regrets about either).

In the following years and as I further matured as a person, I got involved in student life more deeply, and eventually spent four years on the board of my student club, one of which as president, overseeing the day-to-day affairs and planning of a club that counted some 800 members and a hard core of about 50 very active members.

As for many people, my university years were formative for the rest of my life. I developed some - hopefully - life-long friendships, gained more perspective on things, and developed skills that would prove to be essential for my professional life. My study program gave me insight and knowledge, but it was my time at the student club that taught me the most about human relationships, power, empathy and responsibility.

 

Rose-tinted view?

You might say here that I'm seeing things through rose-tinted glasses here. I mean, what about the stupid traditions and humiliations of freshmen? For one thing, our club didn't really do hazing - our study program tended to attract people who were revolted by or scared of the practice, and as a club, you're supposed to be there for your potential members.

Of course, during the 'cantus', arguably the most traditionalist aspect of Flemish student life, people who went out of bounds were invariably punished for it. But here's the thing: nobody was ever singled out for disproportionate punishment, and the nature of power dynamics during a drunken sing-along fest is always a subtle play between leader and audience, not a one-man show where a tin pot dictator rules the day.

Our mutual familiarity also ensured that we often knew where invisible boundaries were, how we could rile each other up or prank each other in good nature. To some, it may sound horrible that forced a fellow student to douse themselves in a cascade of beer, but we knew each other. He knew what punishment he was setting himself up for, the audience knew, and we'd shared drinks, food and stories many times before.

 

Youth organisations

At the end of the day, a student club is not that different from any other youth organisation. Practices and traditions between chapters vary wildly, but they all provide a context for people to gain a sense of belonging, have fun and develop skills that are important later in life.

So why are student clubs saddled with this highly negative image? Is nothing true of all those wild, lurid tales of excess and abuse? Let me get to that in a moment. As I pointed out at the beginning of this post, before I entered student life, my perception of student life was negative, too. I considered this in my years within the club, as well, and here are my hypotheses for this negative image:

- Sensationalism and alarmism. If it's got to do with young people and sex, you can bet the media love turning it into an overblown story about 'kids these days', a tradition that stretches back to the Sumerian civilisation. A good deal of slut-shaming may be involved as well.

- Fetishisation of students. As much as high school is sexually objectified in the US, so is university in Flanders. For many men, female students are either a fantasy throwback to their own university years, or a fantasy of something they could never have.

- Ignorance of higher education. The majority of people never went to university and has no clue how student clubs are run or work, or are even openly hostile towards the display of intellectualism and freedom they provide.

- Exclusion. Some clubs are exclusive in nature, or conversely, some people are afraid of signing up because of prejudices like I had, resulting in a weird form of mockingly jealous resentment.

- Visibility. The most extreme student clubs are also the ones that are most visible in the street. They don't even need to be extreme to be visible: during the 'cantus', a lot of people wear the typical worn lab coat, ribbon or cap in the street, and a cantus happens to be one of the most rowdy activities, so the association is quickly cemented to outsiders' eyes.

 

So what about the horror stories then?

As I've noted before, student associations are highly heterogenous in nature. Some have hazing rituals, some don't, some cling to sexist traditions that other clubs frown upon, some have a reputation for producing power-mad little tyrants, some are very accepting and horizontal.

There is no point denying that student life has a sad history of sexism. One need only to read some song lyrics from the official 'codex' used at the sing-drink festivities to understand this. There's also no point in denying that indeed, bad or indifferent leadership can give budding sexual predators the chance - if they aren't already in power themselves - to manipulate and humiliate young people.

This really is a point that student associations have to address. Be as it may that I've always tried to curb excesses - and so did many of my friends and fellow members! - there have been moments between individual members or members with some social clout that were clearly not okay. Stupid and sexist comments. People too drunk to resist advances (both male and female). They were the exceptions rather than the rule, but I still regret not having the clarity of mind then that I do now.

 

What to do?

Student clubs have made progress in the past decades. For example, most cities have a system of charters, procedures and controls for hazing rituals, and the steady influx of women and minorities has taken off a lot of hard edges. Within and between clubs, there are big debates about what aspects are worth retaining, and under what form, and what aren't.

More progress could and should be made. Tradition was and is never a good excuse for behaviour that is little more than power abuse and discrimination. Senior leaders in the student community should definitely be more vigilant, and not hand-wave away criticism as the bile of a few bitter people.

Many young people love to experiment and push boundaries, in all possible ways. A healthy, vibrant student club can provide a safe context, with like-minded people, where that is possible, whether an inexperienced student wants to start dabbling in politics, is curious about trying out new types of beer, or really looking for romance. It's all possible.

 

Take note

It would serve critics not to discount the lived experiences of many people like me. For us, our student time and our involvement with a student club was a formative experience in a good way, turning us into the resilient adults that we are today. Obviously, many student communities have glaring issues to address, but let's stop this confirmation bias that so many people have about student life.

Treating everyone like shit

There's this thing in comedy, especially brutal, cynical comedy, where no one is safe from harm. As I said before, everything and everyone can be the subject of a joke, satire or parody. It's also the first line of defense that people bring up against critics of South Park, Team America: World Police, the Grand Theft Auto games and similar cultural products that leave no political side, no gender and no ethnic group unmocked. The basic attitude is: nobody should be exempt from criticism and comedy.

Basically, I agree with this. It is certainly miles better than comedy that, out of ignorance or malevolence, singles out groups of people that are relatively powerless. A good and often-used example is making a joke about rape that rapists will think is funny but that degrades victims.

Some would argue that comedy that singles out white people, the rich, or heterosexuals also falls into that category. It might, depending on the circumstance, but the fact of the matter is that these groups are 'the norm' and hold a lot more sway in society than other groups. As a group, they tend to be fairly well insulated against prejudice and discrimination.

That's what makes the 'everybody is shit' comedy a little disingenious sometimes. Mocking everyone and everything is all well and good, but it doesn't level any playfield. It keeps the status quo as it is. Everyone is stereotyped, yes, but some stereotypes are more harmful than others.

'Everybody is shit' is another way of saying that the truth is somewhere in the middle, which is certainly not always true. There is no middle ground between the Ku Klux Klan and the Civil Rights Movement, for instance. There's no truth to be gleaned from taking a position in the middle between climate change deniers and environmentalists.

There was a case in France, recently, where an advertisement for students was pulled because it was 'sexist', while it clearly stereotyped everyone involved. Did censors go overboard on that one? That's a debate in itself. But it's also a fact that debasing everyone isn't going to take care of a lot of social progress. An increasing objectification of men, for example, has led to a greater number of boys developing eating disorders in the past two decades.

The above is why I maintain that social progress is not about taking away privileges from everyone that has them: it's about bestowing them on everyone, and that's not the same. So, treating everyone like shit may sound like the ultimate in democracy, but at best, it only serves the status quo, and at worst, it ends up with everyone in a worse position than before.

Atheist? Good, just don't be an asshole about it

As far as religion is concerned, I'm lucky to live in Belgium, a nominally Catholic country where being agnostic or atheist is nothing out of the ordinary. In a broader sense, Europe - with some notable exceptions - is spectacularly different from the rest of the world, where not believing that there is any god can still get you in serious trouble, and religion is a dominant force in politics and socio-cultural life.

So, I can sympathise with American atheists and their frustration at the constant poisoning of public debates by religiosuly inspired anti-gay, anti-abortion or anti-science advocates. I also agree with some radical atheist positions that we still give to much deference to organised religion where none is warranted.

However.

I severely dislike the way that atheists on the Internet want to rally around the idea of being atheist, as if this is a morally superior road. Atheism is a very simple thing: not believing in any god. Internet Atheists' weird reverence for scientists such as Richard Dawkins or Neil DeGrasse Tyson, the way in which logic is celebrated by them and they celebrate ideologically bankrupt philosophies such as libertarianism or pseudosciences such as evopsych, is just a straight-up replacement for worship. It's nothing more than another justification for a worldview without the necessary self-criticism.

I don't like the contempt and condescension of Internet Atheists. Yes, I suppose that if I was to live in an area surrounded by people who actually believed dinosaurs and humans co-existed and the world is only 6,000 years old, it would inspire me to ridicule as well. But the pervasive sense of smugness of Internet Atheists has already succeeded to turn potential allies against them. I happen to believe in treating people well and not mock what they choose to believe in if it isn't forced upon me. Most people who are religious to an extent can be pretty tolerant, and most people believe things that are logically at odds with one another.

It speaks volumes for the movement that Richard Dawkins and the late Christopher Hitchens are held in such high regard. While the former is a brilliant scientist and an eloquent speaker, he is also overly dismissive of the plight of any sort of people who are not white and male, and Hitchens was an all-round boorish individual who was needlessly antagonising. Lastly, a YouTube troll like the self-styled 'Amazing' Atheist still has droves of followers, despite being violently misogynist and clearly out of his depth with any subject that pertains to anything else than 'not believing in God'.

Listen, it's cool that you discovered, through reasoning, intuition, a flash of insight or whatever, that there are no gods (or, that it's almost certain there are no gods). That does not make you a superior person, it doesn't validate any other opinions you might hold, and it certainly doesn't make your positions exempt from criticism. Be a little nicer. If you truly want to stop religious fundamentalism, lead by example.

Why I am a feminist ally

This is a response to a tumblr entry on how male allies to feminism can be a burden, too, but you can also read it as a stand-alone post.

Ah, that Question

Most male allies to feminism will get the Question once in a while: why? Feminism is for women, isn't it? It's a weird question, really. Do you ask someone who supports socialist policies whether they are working class enough? Do you ask an environmentalist whether they are a tree?

Most of the time, it doesn't come packaged as the Question, but an offhand remark on how peculiar it is to dedicate time and resources to support feminism as a man. Some think it's a devious plot to get into women's pants (which betrays more about their own thinking than about mine), others think it's some sort of misled cry for attention, and for MRAs, it's nothing less than cutting off my own nuts. That's all rubbish, of course.

Outsourcing emotion

Now, the tumblr post to which I'm responding touches upon the fact that some well-intentioned men will try to 'outsource' their emotional confusion about patriarchy and sexism and turn to women to make sense of it all for them. I agree that can be taxing.

Some men really do this, and some women do it too: dropping a bomb of personal history tangentially related to the discussion and leave it to the others to make sense of it. I am also not anyone's therapist, so I agree with the sentiment that allies and feminists alike are better allies and feminists if they can start to figure out their own emotional issues, too.

At the core

The tumblr entry further states that male allies should find something in feminism for themselves to fight for. Something that they, themselves experience as shitty situations in the context of patriarchy that affect them, and use that as an emotional core to get inspired. In other words, men needn't squire for feminist knights, trying to get a grasp on situations that don't directly affect them.

I don't agree with that. I also don't see how that would be linked to some who try to lean on feminism as an emotional support group. The ill effects of patriarchy on my life are minor because I - externally - fit the template of the white, straight, able-bodied male in the prime of his life (privilege with a tasty side-dish of privilege!). I'll get the occasional stupid remark about appreciating art and poetry or talking frankly about experiencing emotion, but that's it.

A strange animal called empathy

The reason why I support any emancipatory movement is really simple: it's because I'm deeply convinced everyone is deserving of a fair chance in life. Empathy with people who suffer under oppression is not an emotion that confuses me or that I need personal guidance for. Of course, I'm only speaking for myself here, but I truly don't see why having empathy would confound someone.

In addition, if it's genuine empathy, it's not that hard to deduce the right course of action from it in who and what you choose to support. The reason why I focus more on feminism than, say, socialism is because I feel my contributions can be stronger in the former field. I don't need to fight for a personal victory against patriarchy, or something that will benefit me as an individual - turning my privilege into a useful tool to convince other men of the necessity of feminism is more than good enough. And yes, that often means taking a backseat to women's voices. I don't mind that at all.

The double-edged blade of beauty

Beautiful people are sometimes beset by problems that are unique to their class, such as not being taken seriously, or that their genuine accomplishments are called into doubt because others suspect them to be a product of their physical attractiveness rather than their competences. As usual, women suffer from this issue far more than men do.

On the other hand, attractive people are also very privileged; or rather, it's better to say that beautiful people cannot truly appreciate what it means to be unattractive. People who don't conform to whatever beauty standards that rule the day are definitely aware of their own status, women moreso than men, because sadly, women are judged by their appearances much more often and more critically than men.

However, I've also noted a peculiar form of resentment from some feminists - or should I say, self-proclaimed feminists - towards people who do conform to those standards, either by choice or by lucky accident. I know that it's a favourite pastime of anti-feminists to gloat about how feminists are supposedly ugly and jealous, so I want to be very careful here.

Popular internet statements like "real women have curves", or the distant sort of pity that some commenters feel with girls and women who participate in beauty pageants always have a condescending note to them. It doesn't feel all that different from slut-shaming to me.

If it gets brought up that people actually choose to participate in things like beauty pageants, that argument is dismissed as a defense of patriarchy, but it's the same as dismissing statements from muslim women that they chose to wear a headscarf as an uncritical acceptance of a harmful value system. The same subject rears its head about sexuality. Some argue, for instance, that BDSM often replicates harmful patriarchal power structures in a sexual relationship.

Here we get to an interesting point in the discussion, because at what point do we start separating external pressure from internal motivations, or internalized cultural tropes from genuine desire? We can't. No matter how much we try to understand ourselves as well as others, this is a distinction that's not as clear-cut or straightforward as some appear to think.

So what do we do? If someone says that it's their choice to do X and they are not harming anyone in the process, then I give them the benefit of doubt. Always. To me, it only becomes problematic if there are genuine reasons to doubt their free will. The choice itself becomes an issue if an alternative would be met with ridicule or violence.

Here I reconnect again with the original theme of my post. The vast majority of women has felt this ridicule: laughed at for - supposedly - being overweight, made to feel inferior for having a small bosom or simply feeling totally burnt out by putting effort into looking good and still failing to meet an impossible physical standard.

It is easy to see people who do meet those demands as standard-bearers of it. Sometimes they are. I have no doubt that there are cover models who feel less-fortunate women are beneath them, in a way that male athletes look down on boys with a skinny frame or that some devout headscarf-wearers believe that those who don't wear it are not pious.

But as long as we don't get an impression from people who want to live up to that standard or happen to align with it that they actually want to enforce it, let's give them the benefit of doubt instead of turning potential allies into enemies.