The dark side of the impact agenda

There has been a great deal of discussion, much of it critical, of the impact agenda in higher education and in the research excellence framework.

We have been cautioned that this agenda might prioritise lower over higher quality research if it has demonstrable social reach, that the role of ethics is unclear (so researchers might be facilitating questionable policy agendas or corporate practices) and that the impact of much valuable exploratory and theoretical work (often in the arts and humanities) is almost impossible to assess.

But thus far nobody has really explored the potential effect on individual researchers who “have impact”.

As the REF 2014 loomed on the horizon, I was asked to submit an impact case study about my research on “lad cultures” and sexual violence in higher education.

My work in this area began with my contribution to the 2010 National Union of Students report Hidden Marks: A Study of Women Students’ Experiences of Harassment, Stalking, Violence and Sexual Assault. This led to my being asked to co-author (with Isabel Young) a second report,That’s What She Said: Women Students’ Experiences of ‘Lad Culture’ in Higher Education, which was published last year. This recommended that institutions and the student movement should take action to combat the emergence of “lad culture” in higher education and its negative impact. It was widely covered in the media, and the research contributed to the decision by many students’ unions to adopt zero tolerance initiatives or launch consent campaigns, and to some institutions starting to develop more adequate sexual violence policies. I was among the academics featured at my university’s “celebrating impact” event earlier this year.

In general, I think the impact agenda is great. If they can, academics should be looking for ways their work can contribute to society. Of course this is more possible for some of us than others, and we should support those whose work is primarily exploratory or theoretical, not least because we cannot tell what future impact it might have. Nevertheless, we are incredibly privileged to work in a profession in which the public purse at least partially supports our pursuit of knowledge, and where we still have relative autonomy and a podium from which to speak. It is not unreasonable to ask us to give back.

But as it develops the impact programme, the Higher Education Funding Council for England should acknowledge that impact is not neutral. I imagine that an analysis of the REF 2014 impact case studies would find that the majority of them came from white men – not because their research is better, but because they are likely to have the social and cultural capital required to make a splash and to be taken seriously. Furthermore, in a social media age there is a price to be paid by anyone who gains a public profile – and this is especially true for women who talk about gender.

Like lots of academics, one of the ways I track my impact is through Google Alerts – the search engine emails you whenever your name appears online. However, the net has to be cast wide in order to encompass blogs, forums and other places where your research might be discussed – so this becomes a great way to stay informed about who hates your guts. Academics’ email addresses are public, too, and we are also encouraged to be on Twitter – so if someone wants to go a step further than posting a snarky comment on a forum or blog, they can send it to me direct.

I’ve been called a prude, an idiot and a man-hater, described as joyless, vapid, toxic and entitled. Comments have been made about my appearance and, as seems to be becoming inevitable for women with opinions, specifically about my genitals. These are the statements that show up in my alerts or are sent to me directly – I try to avoid looking at the free-for-all comment sections below news articles (and in doing this I am often ignoring editors’ requests that writers engage with those who comment on their work).

What’s more, I don’t get nearly as much abuse as other, higher-profile women. I’m also white, middle class and cisgendered, and married with kids – women who do not enjoy these privileges will have even more vitriol to face for daring to think for themselves in public.

As my research becomes higher impact, this state of affairs will only get worse – and I’m sure it may take an emotional toll. I’m certainly not going to be silenced by bullies. But Hefce and the higher education sector in general need to understand and acknowledge what they are asking academics to do, offer us better support, and pay particular attention to the problems faced by women in the public eye. It is harder for us to have impact in the first place – and when we do, it comes at a price.

Originally published in Times Higher Education

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Why feminism needs trans people and sex workers

There are several stories circulating about what happened at this year’s London Reclaim the Night march. The Sex Worker Open University have criticised the organisers for including a speaker from Object, a campaign group they claim oppresses those in the sex industry by picketing their workplaces and attempting to put them out of jobs. The SWOU have also alleged the distribution of transphobic leaflets by some march attendees. This has been corroborated from the other side of the political divide, with a group of radical feminists confirming that they carried a banner stating “Reclaim the Night is for WOMEN” and distributed leaflets “to raise awareness of violence perpetrated by male transgenders” [sic]. This group has also reprimanded RTN organisers for reiterating that trans women were welcome on the march.

What both accounts acknowledge is that many women at Reclaim the Night London spoke out and marched in solidarity with trans and sex-working sisters. They were right to do so. Feminist events must not make the most marginalised women among us feel unsafe. But over and above ideas about inclusion, we also need to recognise that trans people and sex workers* have much to offer feminist thought and activism.

What can trans people tell us about gender? Well, they do a pretty good jobdivesting it from what our culture calls biological sex.** Trans feminists – indeed, all trans people – share with cis feminists the desire to live lives that challenge gender essentialism, and the spectrum of trans and gender-fluid identities shows us a variety of ways of being which split apart our cultural binaries of male/female, man/woman, masculine/feminine. Trans people are under no obligation to share their personal journeys with the world at large, but when they do they crystallise the ways in which gender oppresses all of us.

Sex workers are part of an industry which, although diverse, is profoundly gendered and based on the commodification of sex and desire. From this position they have unique insights into how gendered power relations and sexual scripts work. Some sex workers may tell us how these can be reworked and resisted, perhaps more easily when an explicit transaction is taking place. Others may have harrowing stories about being the target of the worst misogynist impulses of our culture, compounded by social stigma. Or we may very likely hear from sex workers who have experienced both.

Contemporary feminists can be quite neoliberal in their emphasis on identity and choice, partly in answer to the co-option of 1970s radical feminism by reactionary forces. We need to hold on to the best of radical feminist thought – in particular, its analysis of gender as a structural and discursive hierarchy between “man” and “woman” (which, of course, doesn’t stop it also being a spectrum in terms of individual identities). But the gendered structures that radical feminism identified in the 1970s may have already become more complex and slippery in our postmodern world.

Surely, those most likely to understand these present-day structures are those oppressed by them the most. Feminists have long argued that due to their marginalised position, women have an unique perspective on how the world works. But feminists who are more privileged need to listen to others within our ranks when they tell us our own mindset is partial.

How can we appreciate the social construction of the gender binary without listening to people who live in the spaces in-between? And conversely, how can we fathom how deeply felt the binary can be without the help of those who know they have been assigned to the wrong side? How can we understand gendered objectification in isolation from those who handle it, in various ways, as part of their jobs? How can we debate how the sex industry should be regulated while ignoring people who work in it? And crucially, how can we understand and organise against gendered violence in isolation from those who are most at risk?

I have yet to come across a feminist who doesn’t have good intentions. Although our theories and methods differ, feminists of all stripes share a desire to make women’s lives better. But in order to do that, we need to listen to what all women have to say. Experience is not an end in itself – but we cannot theorise or organise in a vacuum or only in relation to our own personal stories, because in the eyes of the world some narratives – and some lives – matter more. This means that those of us who enjoy privilege have a lot to learn and a duty to refuse to see our own experience as universal.

Of course, it’s almost impossible to control or predict events sufficiently to guarantee completely safe spaces, and perhaps it would be dangerous to try. But it’s certainly possible – indeed essential – to create a welcoming atmosphere and a culture of zero tolerance around discrimination and abuse. A good place to start is to ensure that we centre and accept leadership from the women who can teach feminism the most. Trans women and sex workers should be marching at the front of the feminist bloc.

Alison Phipps is Director of Gender Studies at the University of Sussex. You can follow her on Twitter at @alisonphipps

* of course, there are many trans people working in the sex industry so the separation of these two categories is in some ways arbitrary.

** intersex people, of course, call this term into question – which could be the subject of a whole article in itself.

Originally published in the New Statesman, 24th November 2014

Laddism is not just a working class phenomenon

The world media cognoscenti have been on a crusade recently against a particular brand of misogyny. And their campaign has achieved some results. Controversial comedian Daniel O’Reilly just announced that he is retiring his “Dapper Laughs” character after footage emerged of him on stage describing a woman in the audience as “gagging for a rape”. This incident sparked an online petition signed by 60,000 people calling on ITV2 to decommission his show – which the channel subsequently did – and his UK tour was also cancelled.

Campaigners are hoping a similar fate will befall Julien Blanc, the US “pick up artist” whose seminars teach men to coerce women into sex. Blanc’s Australian tour was cut short after his visa was revoked in the wake of protests – an online petition is now urging the Home Office to deny him entry to the UK.

Censorship?

The furore in both these cases has prompted cries of censorship and accusations that the “chattering classes” are using their political clout against working-class culture. The first gripe is based on a basic misunderstanding of free speech. O’Reilly and Blanc have the right to hold forth in any space which will have them, but their opponents are also entitled to voice opinions, and TV companies and other organisations are allowed to decide not to give them a pulpit. This hardly makes them Mary Whitehouse.

But there’s no doubt that attempts to deny people like this a platform allow them to describe themselves as victims of “political correctness gone mad”. This bolsters their support and makes them appear much more credible than they actually are. Of course, it would be infinitely preferable if nobody watched Dapper Laughs or attended Blanc’s seminars in the first place – and we need to ask why they do.

Both defenders of and detractors from contemporary laddism have claimed that it is inherently proletarian. This is a facile and classist interpretation of sexist behaviour – and it not only feeds reactionary caricatures of the privileged woman who swoons at a joke, it also lets middle-class men off scot free.

The class war

This is not a “culture clash” between the cultivated and the puerile classes – the class war is at work in representations of working-class men as crass, crude and more misogynistic than the rest. The fight against sexism has been caught up in other social and political antagonisms, like the viral catcalling video in the US that edited out the white guys.

Blanc’s “boot camps” cost almost $3,000 – a price certainly not attainable for those in lower-paying jobs. “Lad culture” at universities is often the preserve of those at the top of the heap – rugby lads, members of elite drinking societies and debate teams.

This type of laddism can probably trace its lineage to Oxford’s notorious Bullingdon Club, recently immortalised in film in The Riot Club. The Bullingdon’s membership has boasted David Cameron, Boris Johnson and other famous toffs. At their informal gatherings women have been made to whinny on all fours while men brandish hunting horns and whips.

Hitting back

The Bullingdon and Dapper Laughs lads are all part of a broad cultural misogyny which currently has enormous power. It is connected to recent economic and social trends – recession, competition for jobs and resources and a backlash against increased gender equality. People have wondered why the “new sexism” is particularly attractive to the young – it’s partly because social media provides it with a nourishing pit of primordial ooze, but it’s also because young people of all genders are coming of age in the jaws of a competitive, individualistic neoliberalism.

There’s a reason why, alongside the rape joke, the most ubiquitous slogan of contemporary laddism is “make me a sandwich”. It’s a constant tussle out there, and one that women are believed to be winning. This means that some men feel the need to put them back in their place.

Gross sexism isn’t the only way to do that – women also face an ideology of “intensive motherhood” which makes us feel guilty if we can’t be “all in, all the time”, a “New Victorianism” which reclaims domesticity as the route to self-fulfilment, a bombardment of “brain science” arguing that men and women are indeed essentially different, and renewed threats to reproductive rights.

So the problem is much bigger than Dapper Laughs and Julien Blanc. Removing their platform to speak will not tackle it – we need to ask why people are listening and laughing in the first place. We all need to work together to create the kind of society in which the abuse of women is not hilarious. There are more positive models of masculinity out there, which should be supported and nurtured more widely. Otherwise we will soon be petitioning against another Dapper Laughs – because people still think he’s funny.

This article was published in The Conversation with a changed title.

Sexual violence and the politics of victimhood

Extracts from The Politics of the Body by Alison Phipps.

book cover

Pages 20-21, 39-45.

Permission to reproduce granted by Polity Press.

The DSK case and the Assange case have brought to the fore the true ugliness of sex negative feminism and man hatred, and the extent to which they made inroads into our culture and society just as insidious as the right-wing propaganda of the Murdochs. They have also shown how those right wing forces can so easily hijack stupid blinkered man haters to the right-wing agenda. (Craig Murray 2011)

The fact that powerful men sometimes exploit and abuse women and girls is not particularly shocking. As I write this book, the media brims with such stories, ranging from the continual speculation over the on–off and physically violent relationship between American pop stars Rihanna and Chris Brown, to the recent revelations about extensive and systematic abuse of teenage girls in 1970s Britain by DJ and television presenter Jimmy Savile and others associated with the BBC. There is a narrative of outrage in contemporary western tabloid media and popular culture around such cases, particularly those which involve the sexualization and abuse of girls. The three cases I cover in this chapter, however, are antithetical to this, characterized by contention and debate, censure and defence. I discuss WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange and politician Dominique Strauss-Kahn, both accused of sexual assault, and film-maker Roman Polanski, convicted of unlawful sex with a minor. I do not wish to rehearse the rights and wrongs of these matters: instead, my focus is encapsulated by the chapter’s opening quote, taken from the blog of left-wing dissident and human rights campaigner Craig Murray. For Murray, Assange was the victim of feminist misandry, allied with a right-wing witchhunt; Strauss-Kahn and Polanski were similarly positioned by their supporters within broader conspiratorial narratives which often eclipsed discussion of the cases themselves. I examine the support given to all three men, drawing out common themes and contextualizing these within the dominant neoliberal/neoconservative framework and prevailing political positionings and sensitivities, such as the backlash against feminism and the leftist critique of US neo-imperialist projects. I argue that these conditions of possibility framed the politicking around these cases, producing rape apologism and victim-blaming from a variety of quarters. Throughout the chapter, these case studies are used to raise questions about the constraints on sexual violence activism created by the contemporary lexicon.

(section 4 of chapter appears below)

4. Feminism, neoconservatism and sexual violence

It is often illuminating to examine the silences in political debates: in the three case studies covered in this chapter, there was very little gender commentary and a certain amount of gender essentialism mobilized on the Left as well as the Right. Supporters of all three men attempted to excuse their actions via the construction of male sexuality as somehow inevitable, reflecting neoconservative gender traditionalism as well as tapping into the neoliberal sexualization of consumer culture and possibly even the resurgence of evolutionary theory. The message was clear: powerful men have powerful urges (McRobie 2011), and, once set in train, their sexual desires are difficult if not impossible to check. Assange, it was claimed, was a man of ‘strong sexual appetites’ (Pendlebury 2010), and the status of both Strauss-Kahn and Polanski as infamous womanizers was thought to make their actions understandable, if not unavoidable (Evans 2005; McRobie 2011). Strauss-Kahn’s wife described him as a ‘seducer’, informing the press that the weekend of the alleged assault in Manhattan he had already had sexual relations with three other women in preparation for his presidential bid (NewsCore 2011, cited in Fine 2012), as though promiscuity self-evidently went hand-in-hand with power. Similarly, Tracy Quan (2010) speculated that the allegations against Assange might actually contribute to his popularity and status as a ‘sex symbol’. These representations framed the idea of sexual assault as merely seduction gone awry, an assiduous myth which has been refuted repeatedly by years of feminist research and theorizing of rape as a product of gendered power relations (Cahill 2001). George Galloway, ex-leader of the UK socialist party Respect, argued that Assange’s actions amounted to ‘bad sexual etiquette’ rather than a crime, stating, ‘not everybody needs to be asked prior to each insertion’ (BBC News 2012b). His comments were widely criticized and led to the departure of his successive Respect leader Salma Yaqoob (Quinn 2012), but Galloway also received a great deal of support, including from far-left network Socialist Unity (Socialist Unity 2012). In influential left-wing political newsletter Counterpunch, American economist and prominent ‘war on terror’ opponent Paul Craig Roberts (2010) also asked: ‘Think about this for a minute. Other than male porn stars who are bored with it all, how many men can stop at the point of orgasm or when approaching orgasm? How does anyone know where Assange was in the process of the sex act?’ This is an example of what Adrienne Rich in 1980 (645) termed the ‘penis with a life of its own’ argument; taking as given the patriarchal rights of men over women’s bodies and mobilizing an adolescent model of a male sex drive which ‘once triggered cannot take responsibility for itself or take no for an answer’ (Rich 1980: 646).

Given such regressive arguments from his advocates, it is perhaps fitting that liberal hero Assange styled himself as the victim of vengeful radical feminists. Calling the prosecutor a ‘man-hating lesbian’ and Sweden a ‘man-hating matriarchy’ (Norman 2012a), he claimed that he had fallen into a ‘hornet’s nest of revolutionary feminists’, and that Sweden was like Saudi Arabia for men (Miriam 2010). His supporters followed suit, with Pendlebury (2010) terming one of the complainants a ‘well-known radical feminist’ and stating that she had been ‘the protégée of a militant feminist academic’, as if this somehow damaged her credibility. The prosecution lawyer was termed a ‘gender lawyer’, and ‘malicious radical feminist’ who was ‘biased against men’, by retired senior Swedish judge Brita Sundberg-Weitman (Addley 2011). In Counterpunch, the other complainant was described as a ‘vengeful radical feminist’ and Sweden as a ‘female kingdom’ (Shamir and Bennett 2010) while, on the website Justice for Assange, it was incorrectly claimed that in Sweden women had more rights than men. Tracy Quan (2010) wondered whether living in egalitarian Sweden had made Assange’s accusers hungry for the ‘insensitivity’ he could provide. This characterization of feminism as biased, vindictive and anti-men is emblematic of the neoconservative backlash (Faludi 1992), but in this case was used by an anti-establishment figure and his supporters, perhaps indicating the relatively precarious position of feminism at both ends of the political spectrum.

Similarly, in relation to Strauss-Kahn, Dershowitz (2011) argued that sex crimes prosecutors were agenda-driven zealots. Human rights campaigner and former diplomat Craig Murray went further to contend:

The DSK case and the Assange case have brought to the fore the true ugliness of sex negative feminism and man hatred, and the extent to which they made inroads into our culture and society just as insidious as the right-wing propaganda of the Murdochs. They have also shown how those right-wing forces can so easily hijack stupid blinkered man haters to the right-wing agenda. (Murray 2011)

While pejorative, this quote cites a legitimate set of concerns which has materialized around the links between radical feminism and right-wing agendas. Alongside the neoconservative backlash against feminism, there has been a rather contradictory enmeshment of some forms of feminist activism, particularly in the sexual violence arena, with crime control and the incarceration of certain groups of underprivileged men (Daly 2006). Radical feminists have advocated a host of reforms to punish gender-based crimes which have often had the unintended effect of strengthening the state’s coercive power (Gruber 2009). Sexual violence is now couched almost exclusively in the language of crime, with very little attempt at more sophisticated analyses. This also informs international activism on violence against women, which is often co-opted by neoconservative rhetorics constructing other cultures as inherently violent and dysfunctional and using women’s victimization as a rhetorical device to justify culturally, politically and economically imperialist projects. This has a long history, cited by Women Against Rape in their defence of Assange:

There is a long tradition of the use of rape and sexual assault for political agendas that have nothing to do with women’s safety. In the south of the US, the lynching of black men was often justified on grounds that they had raped or even looked at a white woman. Women don’t take kindly to our demand for safety being misused. (Axelsson 2010)

This marriage of radical feminist and neoconservative agendas has largely been one of convenience, and voluntary sector groups and services, in the battle to survive, frequently lack the luxury of reflecting upon their bedfellows (Bumiller 2008). However many feminists who have instinctually seen their role as fighting against the patriarchal state have lamented the fact that feminism is now publicly and politically associated with crime control (Bumiller 2008; Gruber 2009). There are also differences between and among white and racialized women in the degree to which the state and the criminal justice system are viewed as trustworthy and effective sites for responding to violence against women (Daly 2006). The strongest critiques have come from those of the postmodern persuasion, although it could be argued that postmodern and ‘third wave’ preoccupations with sexual identities and empowerment, often defined in neoliberal terms, have left contemporary radical feminists with few allies (this can also be seen in anti-trafficking politics). The convergence of feminist concerns with women’s victimization with neoconservative projects of social control partially explains left-wing ambivalence in relation to feminist sexual violence politics. However, this can also be seen to have produced the various forms of rape apologism seen in the three cases discussed here.

The uneasy relationship between feminism and the Left, then, is inextricably linked to the fight against neoconservatism. In the three case studies in this chapter, this was particularly apparent, with all the men positioned as victims of an overzealous US criminal justice system and their supporters styling themselves as the forces of progressiveness and freedom. This was particularly manifest in the case of Assange: his status as an anti-American hero situated him, for some of his supporters, as incapable of perpetrating sexual violence. Instead, it was claimed that he had been the victim of a CIA sting and a project to eventually extradite him to the United States to answer charges related to WikiLeaks. Supporters such as Michael Moore, Naomi Klein, Naomi Wolf, Guantanamo survivor David Hicks and the European group Women Against Rape all made statements questioning the nature and purpose of the prosecution. Moore called the case ‘a bunch of hooey’, while American left-wing political commentator Mark Crispin Miller claimed that one of Assange’s accusers had CIA and anti-Castro ties, a rumour repeated by a number of others (Harding 2010; Miriam 2010; Pollitt 2010). In Counterpunch, Roberts wrote:

If reports are correct, two women, who possibly could be CIA or Mossad assets, have brought sex charges against Assange. Would a real government that had any integrity and commitment to truth try to blacken the name of the prime truth teller of our time on the basis of such flimsy charges? Obviously, Sweden has become another two-bit punk puppet government of the United States. (Roberts 2010)

This framing of the case as a matter of anti-imperial struggle eventually led to Assange being granted asylum by Ecuador on the grounds of human rights (Hughes 2012): the irony of this when set against the charges against him, as well as Ecuador’s own record on human rights and free speech, was not lost on some commentators (Braiker 2012). Following this, Assange was also offered (and accepted by proxy) an Aboriginal Nations passport in a ceremony in Sydney, with Indigenous Social Justice Association president Ray Jackson stating that the Australian government had not given the WikiLeaks founder sufficient aid (World News Australia 2012).

Polanski was also positioned as the victim of an overzealous US legal system intent on sentencing him for an ancient crime. Many of his champions stressed the arbitrariness of the attempted extradition, after 31 years of official indifference (Bennett 2010). Others went further, placing Polanski as a hero and freedom fighter against a vengeful US state (Poirier 2010). Similarly, the US legal system was interpreted as malicious and fanatical in relation to Strauss-Kahn (Ellison 2011). French commentators were particularly aggrieved at how he was treated in New York, and French media were threatened with legal action for publishing photos of him in handcuffs, with the handcuffing itself characterized by some as ‘hyper-violent’ (Willsher 2011). Former French justice minister Elisabeth Guigou said she found the photos of Strauss-Kahn on the front page of newspapers and magazines a sign of ‘brutality and incredible cruelty’, and expressed relief that the French justice system was not as ‘accusatory’ as that of the United States (Boot 2012: 96). Christine Boutin, head of France’s Christian Democratic Party, was quoted as saying Strauss-Kahn had been trapped (Hallett 2011). A poll of the French public found that 57 per cent thought he had been framed (White 2011) by the Germans, President Sarkozy or the United States (Zoe Williams 2011a).

What is particularly interesting here is not the point that allegations against the three men had been made at politically convenient times for the United States or that, because of extraneous factors, they had been treated in a more heavy-handed way than others accused of similar crimes; it is the attendant demand that, because of this, they should be allowed to evade justice, or the assumption that, due to the surrounding politics, the accusations could not be true. As a result of this dualistic framework, three men accused of sex crimes were able to emerge as heroes for some on the western Left (Haines 2011: 28). Following the allegations against Assange, he was invited to speak at the major anti-capitalist gathering Occupy LSX (London Stock Exchange), despite the fact that many women (and more than a few men) in the Occupy movement expressed discomfort (Willitts 2011), and during his time in the Ecuadorean Embassy was invited to give video addresses to both the Oxford and Cambridge Unions, although the latter was cancelled due to technical difficulties (Chan 2013). In 2012, Strauss-Kahn was also invited to address the Cambridge Union (Eden 2012), and, though more than 750 students subsequently signed a petition asking for this decision to be reconsidered (Levy 2012), the talk went ahead (BBC News 2012a).

The assumption that left-wing men are above misogyny is contradicted by a mass of evidence, relating to the ‘old’ socialist labour movement and also to more contemporary punk and anarchist communities (Clarke 2004). Furthermore, there have recently been stories concerning sexual harassment and assault being perpetrated and swept under the carpet in various Occupy camps on both sides of the Atlantic (Forty Shades of Grey 2011; Miles 2011; The Scotsman 2011). There is some evidence that, in addition to positioning gender issues as secondary to movement unity, left-wingers may tolerate sexual transgressions under the banner of ‘progressiveness’ (Sere 2004; Wu 2004), a trend which could be observed especially in the positioning of Polanski as the victim of neoconservative prudes, or, as French writer Agnès Poirier (2010) put it, a ‘rampant moral McCarthyism’. In this case, as Bennett (2010) commented, a question of individual justice was transformed into a more general stand-off between Europeans and rednecks, sophisticates and puritans. Similarly, Naomi Wolf (2011) compared Assange to Oscar Wilde and the ‘case of morals’ around him, and Strauss-Kahn complained that the ‘prudish’ press objected to his ‘libertine lifestyle’, with some of his supporters suggesting that the progressive French would tolerate sexual transgressions which other women did not (Alcoff 2011; Fassin 2011). The position of morality in the contemporary political lexicon is a fascinating one, appearing to have become a right-wing preserve while left-wingers attempt to distance themselves. Unfortunately feminism, particularly the radical strand, has also become caught up in this politics as a form of sexual morality, and at times the fight against neoconservative moralism and imperialism appears to justify misogyny.

Excerpts from The Politics of the Body: gender in a neoliberal and neoconservative age, published by Polity press

Lad culture thrives in our neoliberal universities

“Now she’s dead but not forgotten, dig her up and fuck her rotten,” so chanted this year’s freshers at Nottingham University, in an incident hot on the heels of the revelation that the LSE men’s rugby team had distributed a freshers’ leaflet full of racist, classist, homophobic and sexist slurs.

As the academic year began, these episodes were reported as emblematic of student “lad culture”, defined in a National Union of Students (NUS) report as a competitive male chauvinism disguising itself as “harmless banter”.

Isabel Young and I co-authored this report, which showed how such sexist “tomfoolery” can easily spill over into harassment and violence.

This September, an NUS survey revealed that 37% of women at UK universities have been subject to unwanted sexual advances, and the 2010 Hidden Marks report found that 1 in 7 had experienced serious sexual or physical violence and 68% had been sexually harassed.

“Lad culture” is a problematic term – it can attach a veneer of respectability to what’s really “sexism with an alibi”, and produce fatalistic “boys-will-be-boys” dismissals.

The extremes of laddism may well be the preserve of a minority, but unfortunately this is often the powerful and privileged: rugby players, members of elite drinking societies and debate teams. Laddish discourses have also been co-opted by companies marketing to students (nightclubs, events organisers) and social media sites like Uni Lad and Shag at Uni, which gives them broad cultural reach.

There’s a feeling that lad culture at UK universities is on the increase, and if that’s the case, it’s the product of several intersecting trends.

Our students are coming of age in a demanding economic climate, with intense competition for jobs and a housing bubble that means financial security is pie in the sky.

Furthermore, postfeminist mythology teaches young men that women have the upper hand, that they “want it all” even in austerity.

Laddism is an equal-opportunity oppressor – racism, classism, homophobia and transphobia are all part of its portfolio – but the viciousness of its sexism (exemplified by this article’s opening quote) reflects a conviction that women need to be put in their place.

The rape jokes which are its apotheosis don’t represent uncontrolled lust – they’re the aggression bred by lost entitlement and the need for someone to blame.

Neoliberalism creates this dog-eat-dog mindset, which is rampant in the higher education sector where lad cultures thrive. The marketised university is a place where only economic values matter, a callousness mirrored in student social life.

Popular social media portals Rate Your Shag and Spotted, replete with laddish banter, showcase modes of sexualised audit which reflect this market absorption. Laddism has waxed and waned over the decades in response to particular contexts (and often linked to shifting gender roles), and is currently being nurtured on the consumerist campus. Its future is foretold in the US, where higher education markets are entrenched and sexual violence is rife.

The neoliberal university is also a difficult place from which to speak out. NUS President Toni Pearce recently accused UK institutions of ignoring lad culture, and in the highly marketised US, universities are often criticised for covering up violent crime in order to maintain enrolments.

The pressure-cooker culture among academics is creating an individualism which means that we turn a blind eye while trying to keep our jobs (at best) and advance our careers (at worst). The outsourcing of essential services such as campus security and student counselling may mean there are fewer qualified people to listen to students who are victimised.

With this in mind, the recent press interest in the issue of lad culture, and the campaigns, research and initiatives inspired by the NUS reports or led by its national strategy team, present an opportunity to hold universities accountable. As more tales of student sexism materialise, institutions should be pressured to:

  • Create and publicise clear reporting and referral pathways for students of all genders who experience harassment and violence.
  • Develop targeted prevention work (there are a number of potential models, such as Oxford’s Good Lad workshops, the consent education being delivered at Cambridge and the bystander intervention initiative at the University of the West of England).
  • Reflect upon institutional values and how these are expressed in campus communities. Even if marketisation is now an unstoppable juggernaut (and I question this assumption), we can resist its assault on our collective consciousness.

Alison Phipps is director of gender studies at Sussex University – you can follower her on Twitter @alisonphipps

Originally published in The Guardian

‘Normal birth’ and ‘breast is best’ – the neoliberalisation of reproduction

In July this year Sir Marcus Setchell, recently retired surgeon gynaecologist to the Royal Family, made his first public statements about the birth of Prince George. Jenni Murray, interviewing him on Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour almost a year after the event, asked him whether he had been entirely necessary. His answer, that although what happens in labour is ‘an entirely private matter’ there are certain situations which might require a specialist to be in the room, prompted much speculation in the papers. The implication was clear – was The Duchess of Cambridge’s delivery really as ‘natural’ as we have been led to believe? That this arose, and indeed, that the interview was conducted at all, clearly has much to do with our contemporary obsession with celebrities’ personal business. However, it also reflects the extent to which the reproductive experiences of all women come under scrutiny in a neoliberal culture.

In the late 1980s, the World Health Organization (WHO) adopted a definition of ‘normal birth’ that suggested that unnecessary interventions should be avoided in low-risk labour and delivery. By the 2000s the term had become common among Western activists and health professionals. The UK National Health Service also adopted the slogan ‘breast is best’, which built upon WHO recommendations that suckling should be encouraged immediately postpartum. Today, there is an institutionalized arena of policy, practice and activism around breastfeeding and ‘natural’ childbirth, produced by a broad coalition of national and international organisations, non-profit and profit-making companies, health professionals’ associations, community and religious groups, and a multitude of interested individuals.

As Sir Marcus Setchell acknowledged in his interview, the development of the ‘natural birth’ movement in the West owed much to feminist activism against the medicalization of reproduction. This began in the 1970s and was led by experts such as British anthropologist Sheila Kitzinger, American midwife Ina May Gaskin, French obstetrician Michel Odent and British gynaecologist Wendy Savage. They rightly argued that women had been alienated from their bodies by a male-dominated and masculinised establishment, which treated pregnancy and childbirth as medical conditions rather than normal life events, was overly focused on risk and had been co-opted by market forces, particularly the infant formula industry. However, today’s ‘natural birth’ and breastfeeding movement has also been influenced by neoliberal values, which turns it from a feminist victory into something altogether more complicated.

For example, the privatisation of health services intensifies the pressure for us to become personally responsible for managing risk and preventing disease. Parents (mothers especially) have been tasked with ensuring their children’s wellbeing, and breastfeeding in particular has acquired magical status as the means of avoiding a plethora of childhood ailments, promoting emotional development, even purportedly increasing IQ. Within the contemporary logic of self-improvement, ‘natural birth’ and exclusive breastfeeding have been suffused with the language of achievement, seen as defining characteristics of successful motherhood and routes to women’s self-actualisation. Activists report their reproductive and parenting triumphs on social media, often with no attention to the economic, social and cultural privilege that has made them possible.

At the same time, neoliberalised healthcare systems have appropriated ‘normal birth’ and successful breastfeeding as performance measures. In 2007, the UK Maternity Care Working Party recommended that maternity services increase their ‘normal birth’ rates to 60 per cent within three years. The US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention produces a ‘breastfeeding report card’, monitoring rates at state and national levels. This outcome-focused model coincides with cost-cutting agendas, as minimising caesareans and encouraging exclusive breastfeeding are seen as ways to reduce healthcare spending.

Although originally rooted in attempts to empower women, today’s approach to ‘natural’ birth and breastfeeding puts intense pressure on mothers who cannot achieve these goals, often for structural reasons such as poverty and social disadvantage, family or other burdens or medical issues affecting mother or infant. Furthermore, in a neoliberal milieu that depends on economic and social competition and individual responsibility, these women do not receive empathy but are berated for making the wrong choices, and defined as both ignorant and lazy. The reproductive experiences of the Duchess of Cambridge and other celebrities then become ammunition in these ‘Mummy/Mommy wars’, which are very much a product of the age.

In recent years, veteran activist Sheila Kitzinger has expressed dismay at the mutation of reproduction into a goal-oriented agenda. Many women share this opinion and some are fighting back – for example, the ‘I Support You’ movement in North America brings together breast- and formula-feeding parents in mutual validation of each others’ choices. We should use initiatives like this to re-politicise reproduction, this time within a critique of the neoliberal culture which pits us against one another in cycles of assessment, judgment and shame. Setchell is wrong – what happens in labour is not an ‘entirely private matter’ for any woman, celebrity or not – but hopefully one day it will stop being a stick to beat her with.

About the author: Alison Phipps is Director of Gender Studies at the University of Sussex and works on issues to do with women’s bodies: childbirth, breastfeeding, abortion, sexual violence and sex work. Her book The Politics of the Body: Gender in a Neoliberal and Neoconservative Age is published by Polity Press. 

Originally published in Cost of Living

‘I am a victim of nothing but my own bad choices’: Women Against Feminism and neoliberal individualism

A group called ‘Women Against Feminism’ has recently been making the news. Now up to almost 20,000 likes on Facebook, the initial buzz was around its Tumblr where (mostly very young) women post photos of themselves holding messages about why they don’t want to be feminists. There are a variety of reasons, all of which seem to rest on bottom-line misunderstandings of what feminism is – predictably, not wanting to be seen as a man-hater is perhaps the most ubiquitous. But, almost as frequently, these young women cite “not being a victim” as the cause of their rejection of feminist politics. As one message reads: “I don’t need feminism because…I am an adult who is capable of taking responsibility for myself and my actions.”

Personal responsibility, of course, is the fundamental neoliberal mantra. No longer just yawped by right-wingers at those considered indigent and shiftless, it is now chanted with enthusiasm by the privileged, progressive and upwardly mobile. In 2013, during a graduation speech at Morehouse, a private, historically black liberal arts college in Atlanta, Barack Obama advised graduates and their families against using the bitter legacies of slavery and segregation as an excuse for not achieving their ambitions. That same year, fellow neoliberal icon Sheryl Sandberg notoriously told women to ‘lean in’ to their careers instead of holding themselves back with self-doubt. Taking responsibility for your life, the neoliberal myth goes, will help you realise your dreams – but what Women Against Feminism don’t realise is that for women especially this can become a curse.

First of all, as neoliberal states retreat, women’s responsibilities in particular have grown. Their ‘double burden’ has tripled as economies have expanded and social supports shrunk. It’s also become obvious that a world run on market principles cannot generate the transformation in gender roles which would be needed to lessen this load. Poorer mothers are increasingly staying at home, while their more affluent sisters employ other women to fulfil their domestic duties. Women perform the majority of unpaid caring, especially for sick or elderly relatives, with the greatest burden nationally falling on those aged 50-64. In the neoliberal context, women are taking up the slack as states cut loose. And they are doing it mostly on their own – their legal and social safety nets are being whisked away, to be replaced by a quest for individual personal growth in which those who fall by the wayside are left there, scorned and censured.

As members of privatising societies, women make their own luck through consumption. Neoliberalism, Wendy Brown argues, turns social problems into individual ones with market fixes: voucher systems as a response to the decline of public education; boutique and alternative medicine to compensate for crumbling health services; parental control software to mitigate the explosion of violence and sex onscreen. Women are often responsible for sourcing and implementing these consumption solutions on behalf of their families, since they shoulder a disproportionate amount of the household burden and control the vast majority of its spending. Mothers in particular are expected to protect their children from all imaginable physical and psychological risks through financial investments and prescribed bodily practices such as breastfeeding and intensive attachment parenting. This individualising of responsibility holds them personally to account when things go wrong, with issues such as obesity, behavioural problems or academic ‘underachievement’ put down to bad parenting (or most often, mothering) rather than poverty or structural disadvantage.

In a neoliberal society, working on oneself is the panacea for most ills: as a Women Against Feminism member writes, “I don’t need feminism because… I don’t need a helping hand to succeed.” The massive self-improvement industry around mothering meets others such as fashion, beauty, nutrition, alternative health and interior design, all of which mainly set their sights on women. The reality TV which fortifies them frequently juxtaposes the middle-class, white, ‘respectable’ femininity of its hosts against working class and/or minority ethnic participants who are defined as lacking and who are ’empowered’ through style, décor or other types of coaching. This is actually a form of symbolic violence. Women’s self-improvement spending also fuels gender essentialism – they are defined as innately frivolous and wasteful, epitomised in the phrase ‘born to shop’.

Much like its Fordist predecessor and despite its rhetoric of equality and diversity, neoliberal capitalism is highly gendered. Small states and big markets hustle women back to the domestic and confine them to socially undervalued ‘feminine’ pursuits. Personal responsibility, however, is neoliberalism’s masterstroke. If women are dissatisfied with their lot, they need to ‘lean in’ and look to themselves to change. This is manifest in self-help and ‘positive thinking’ culture, which bothdeprives women of political outlets for their dissatisfaction and reifies traditional gender roles, with book titles such as ‘Women Who Love Too Much’ and ‘He’s Just Not That Into You’ evoking heteronormative femininities while speaking the language of liberation. Self-help also teaches women that they are not victims; that they can transform themselves through adversity. “Smile, love, it might never happen” – and if it already has, you should stop blaming other people and use your bad fortune as an opportunity to grow.

This conviction unites therapeutic professionals with pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps right-wingers and Women Against Feminism. Women’s experiences of violence seem especially subject to its facile and individualistic logic. Many of the messages posted on Women Against Feminism draw on right-wing dismissals of feminism as a ‘victim’ philosophy through which feeble women wail on about male violence. Of course this is a caricature and, ironically enough, the neoliberal mentality of personal responsibility and renewal has even spread to some third-wave feminist initiatives such as Eve Ensler’s One Billion Rising, which invites women the world over to ‘rise above’ sexual violence through dance. The problem with this mindset is the way it refuses to acknowledge the structures and histories of gender (and in Ensler’s case, colonialism) that make it necessary for women’s personal experiences of violence to be politicised.

In an apolitical neoliberal culture, chanting the mantra of personal responsibility is exhausting for women. While their domestic duties mushroom, they are expected to incessantly improve themselves and think positive about their difficulties. And in a free-market society, they must have chosen their fate. As one member of Women Against Feminism writes, “I don’t need feminism because… the pay gap is women’s choice, not sexism”.

In the absence of analysis of the factors shaping women’s choices, gender essentialism sidles in to fill the space. Contemporary neuroscience incessantly puts forth new claims that women’s and men’s brains are fundamentally different, which seem to endure no matter how skilfully they are rebuffed. Evolutionary psychology, which takes us back to the cave with gender narratives less sophisticated than The Flintstones, is enjoying a renaissance. Traditional family scripts are being re-spoken and enacted as part of a ‘new Victorianism’, amongst the privileged which erases broader social and political engagement with its white weddings, gourmet food and heteronormative, domestic bliss. Another Women Against Feminism member states, “I don’t need feminism because… I’m enjoying being a supportive wife and I love that my man is the head of my household.”

Women Against Feminism makes effective use of the new neoliberal common sense: women are naturally more suited to domestic tasks, why else would they want to stay at home? Women must be inherently more vain and superficial, or they wouldn’t spend so much money on frivolous things. This oppressive thinking holds that Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus – otherwise, in a free world, why would there still be inequality? And if women want someone to blame, they should apparently look at themselves – in the words of a Women Against Feminism member, “I don’t need feminism because… I am a victim of nothing but my own bad choices”. I beg to differ – the neoliberal logic of personal responsibility is why we need feminism now more than ever.

Originally published in The F Word