November 15, 2017--Punishing Sexual Assault

Some of the most distressing news of recent times has been the wave of outings of men with power using it to sexually assault usually younger women over whom they have authority.

But some of the best news of recent times is about the courage these women are showing as they confront their accusers and risk stigmatization and the resurrection of the emotional nightmares they experienced in some case decades ago.

From movie producer Harvey Weinstein to comedian Louis C.K. to senatorial candidate Roy Moore, and lest we forget, Bill Crosby, the stories are horrifying, yet familiar.

And, yes, there is Fox News, which makes the predatory sexual climate of Mad Men seem like an innocent tea party.  

In my case, I know one of the accused, Leon Wieseltier, the former literary editor of the New Republic. This for me brings it close to home. 

The details of Leon's behavior are sadly typical--

Several women said they were humiliated when he kissed them on the mouth in front of other staff members. Others said he discussed his sex life, including describing in detail the breasts of a former girlfriend. He made passes at female colleagues and pressed them to describe their sex lives. 

Daily, we are hearing stories like this and worse.

But things get more complicated when thinking about appropriate punishment.

With the exception of Crosby and perhaps Weinstein, it is unlikely than any of these men will be criminally prosecuted. Some are and will be sued in civil court and hopefully, if guilty, will need to pay for emotional damages that they caused.

And then there are the private settlements that have occurred. Most dramatically, Bill O'Reilly paying one of the women he abused an astonishing $32 million.

In other instances, especially when the accused are well known or famous, they will suffer public disgrace and likely lose any possibility of resuming their careers. Weinstein will never again produce a feature film, Bill O'Reilly will never return to TV, Leon Wieseltier will never write and publish another literary critique.

Some will enter sex-addiction treatment programs (or pretend to), stay out of public view for a year or so, and then attempt to crawl back to their previous occupations. Weinstein is allegedly in such a program. 

In these instances the punishment is informal--employers will not take the risk to bring them back. In the case of the news or entertainment businesses, executives will not take the chance of being picketed or that sponsors will abandon them. Sponsor abandonment and boycotting are what ultimately brought O'Reilly down.

In the case of Roy Moore, perhaps, perhaps the voters of Alabama will keep him out of the Senate and the public eye. That would serve as a version of punishment.

Coauthor of Game Change, Mark Halpern, did numerous slimy things a number of years ago (and, who knows, perhaps more recently). After being exposed recently he lost his multi-million dollar book deal with Penguin Press and was fired by MSNBC and Bloomberg News. Will any publisher or TV network ever take another chance with him? Will they trust that he will be able to control himself, or more significant to a network, that he will be able to attract viewers and thus sponsors or readers. In other words, build viewership, sell books, and make money?

While we are furious about what is daily being revealed, it is understandable that we might feel there is justice seeing these careers ruined. The perpetrators brought this on themselves and deserve all the punishment they are receiving. It seems appropriate. 

But in some instances is it possible that the consequences are beyond fairness? How do we even think about fairness in circumstances when much of the punishment occurs in extralegal ways?

I am not sufficiently without flaws to make these judgements. Difficult as it is with emotions so raw, thinking about this still seems worthwhile.

Thoughts are welcome.

Leon Wieseltier

April 15, 2016--Watching Alone

A few weeks ago a friend asked if I had gotten around yet to watching all 13 episodes of House of Cards.

"I'm only up to number six and . . ."

"Be patient, it gets better," she said, "I thought it started a little slowly but when they got to Claire's mother who . . ."

I cut her off. "Please don't talk about it until I've seen all the episodes. I don't want you to unintentionally say something about one I haven't seen and by doing that take away some of my pleasure. I'm into it and liking it and that's all I want to say right now. We're resisting binge-watching so we can squeeze out two a night, to attenuate the pleasure, and so it won't be until next week that I'll be ready to talk about it."

"Can't you maybe pick up the pace? I'm dying to hear what you think, especially what happens to Jackie . . . "

"There you go again. Really, please let me enjoy the show at my own pace and then we'll talk about all of it."

Which I did and, after that, Reggie and Rona and I had fun comparing reactions.

"You know," I said, "in the earlier days of TV, before a Netflix or Amazon existed much less could dump a whole season of programs in one batch on line or before there was On Demand, which allows you to watch a favorite show at any time. In the past if you missed an episode of, say, The Sopranos on Sunday night there was no way to see it until a year or two later when it was into reruns."

"In addition," Rona said, "if you were working in an office one of the pleasures would be to come in Monday morning and gather at the water cooler or coffee machine and talk with colleagues about the shows we all watched over the weekend. Very much including The Sopranos."

"Or Mad Men," Reggie added.

"I miss those days," Rona said. "It made for good colleagueship."

"Including of a different kind," I said.

"What do you mean?" Reggie asked.

"Well, at the proverbial or real water cooler secretaries and bosses had something in common to talk about. In a non-hierarchical way. Everyone could chime in as equals."

"I try to resist being too nostalgic," Reggie said, "And, in spite of my nudging you about House of Cards, I think that was a better way to watch and then talk about one's favorite programs, especially since there were always a few shows that everyone seemed to be interested in."

This reminded me of Robert Putnam's classic 1995 essay, "Bowling Alone," where he noted the reduction in all forms of social interaction which Americans previously used to participate in to enrich the fabric of their communal lives. He argued that this decline had the consequence of undermining the kind of active civic engagement that democracy requires from its citizens.

I ran all of this by a young friend who, when typically I talk about the differences between then and now, rolls her eyes and pats me sympathetically on the arm, as if to say, "Then was your time and now is mine.

"But," I pressed her, how do you and your friends talk about things you've watched? That is, if you watch any TV at all much less talk about any shows."

"We watch plenty, especially some of our favorites on TV when they're first broadcast and we do a lot of communicating about it."

"Communicating? That's an interesting way to talk about it. Is that different than talking about it? I mean, I know there are no more water coolers."

"I suppose so."

"Help me out here. Give me a few specifics. How does this communicating work?"

Take Girls, which we all love."

"No surprise there."

"My friends and I watch it in real time, on Sunday night on HBO, and communicate about it all along the way."

"You call or text each other while the show's on?"

"Sort of. But manly we Tweet about it. Twitter is perfect for that. Short and sweet comments so we can pay attention to what's happening on the show."

"And when an episode's over, say the next day, do you talk about Hannah's tribulations?"

"Not really. Pretty much what we do is Tweet."

When I told Reggie about this, she wasn't that happy about what I reported. She doesn't have much patience for social media. In truth, neither do I.

"What about OJ?" she asked.

"The People verse OJ Simpson?"

"I thought it started slowly but once they got to that episode devoted to Marcia Clark, it really . . ."

"Let me stop you again. We've only seen three episodes and as with House of Cards we're rationing our viewing. It's so much fun that we're stretching it out and . . ."

"That may be fun for you, but I'll tell you what's not fun."

"What's that?"

"You."