In November 2014, I wrote a Kos diary / blog called “Jian Ghomeshi and the Squadron of Cowards.” Ghomeshi was Canada’s biggest, hottest and hippest media star whose radio program was a cultural leader and a big profit maker for his network. But Ghomeshi was also accused — by many, many women — of being a predator, a violent and terrifying man. When it all came out and unravelled, Ghomeshi’s employer threw him overboard.
Just like Fox News has finally done with Bill O’Reilly.
It should be no surprise that the hectoring, bullying, inflammatory O’Reilly preyed upon women or subjected them to abuse, at work or elsewhere. O’Reilly is like too many men who get drunk with the taste of power in their mouths. But he was not alone: O’Reilly was enabled, protected, rewarded for his conduct. By what I call, angrily, a “squadron of cowards.”
The thesis of my November 2014 piece is just as apt today as then: organizations protect, enable and profit from terrible behaviour. Each of us, decision makers or not, participate in bullying by turning a blind eye to it, forgiving it, forgetting it, ignoring it. We are all responsible for not doing or saying something to stop it.
The link to my new piece on O’Reilly is here: davidkeithlaw.wordpress.com/...
The link to the original 2014 Ghomeshi piece is here: davidkeithlaw.wordpress.com/…
The text of the O’Reilly piece:
FOX News paid Bill O’Reilly millions in salary – and paid his alleged sexual harassment victims millions in settlement money – for many years. The only reason to do that, is because O’Reilly was profitable.
FOX News stopped paying O’Reilly when the revenue from his program fell below the level necessary to justify the expense of employing him. And that calculation may well include assessing the long term damage to the network’s reputation by continuing to have him around.
But it was all math.
I have no evidence Mr. O’Reilly did anything wrong. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he is a certifiable saint, cruelly misjudged. But he is believed to have done wrong, by so many people that a boycott by advertisers has diminished the profitability of his show. So he is gone, kicked out with a basket of dollars.
The question of the moral wrong, if there was “wrong” in O’Reilly’s conduct does not appear to have creased the consciousness of his employer. Now at least, until now. Given that Roger Ailes ran the network, one presumes the moral wrong element was not given significant weight. That’s my way of politely or obliquely noting Mr. Ailes’ own infamy in the sexual harassment sphere.
The truth is that organizations tolerate various degrees of bad behaviour, by their employees, if it is “worth it.” If the revenue and profit associated with an individual is such that his bad conduct produces only affordable problems, those problems will be afforded.
This is a classic risk-reward, cost-benefit analysis. The bully or harasser will have complete license to behave as he does, until one of two things happen: (1) his conduct triggers a complaint that costs more than his work is worth or (2) his work becomes less profitable, making his minor indiscretions now less rewarding to tolerate.
All of this points to a core truth about bad conduct: it is not “individual” conduct, it is organizational – the organization tolerates it, sometimes abets it, sometimes aids it and often profits by it. This is not about Bill O’Reilly or whatever tiny little workplace bully you are putting up with: it is about the organization they work(ed) in, which enabled it.
And to some extent it is about the members of the organization who turned a blind eye. When FOX News cut checks for $13 million to women with harassment complaints, it was because the company knew those complaints would cost FOX a lot MORE, if they weren’t settled. That means FOX News had a very good sense of just how bad the allegations were and just how good the evidence of those allegations would be, if revealed.
Which means FOX News’ management were well aware of “a problem” and treated it like a new sink in the company lunch room (or more accurately, as a new “perk” for Bill O’Reilly) – as an expense. Very likely hundreds of people at FOX News were perfectly well aware of “problematic” conduct and of how the organization treated it. Meaning that they all knew they lived and worked in an environment with no moral compass, or a bent one. And it also meant (means) that they knew their own conduct and misconduct, was measured against a ruler made up of dollar signs, and no other measure. Which means they too had a license, if they were profitable or powerful enough to pay for it.
How many organizations operate exactly like this? Too many. Probably most.
Not many organizations have a Bill O’Reilly. What they have is someone who is less notorious, less famous, less profitable and maybe less risky, because his behaviour is less aggressive and he’s not such a public target. Sexual harassment is a daily curse but less overt conduct – simple bullying – is a constant.
The typical workplace bully doesn’t grab someone by the pussy. He’s too much of a coward. Instead, he destroys others’ confidence. He is the kind who belittles, insults, shuns, marginalizes, lords over and humiliates underlings or the less powerful. He draws people into his web of bullying by using non-victims as witnesses (subtly bullying the non-victims too, and creating cover for himself).
We all know or have known someone like this. We have all shaken our heads, shrugged off or shuddered about their conduct. But what have we done about it? Probably not much. Unless we are directly injured or witness to something grievous, we tend to just keep our heads down and work, right?
Organizations do not induce or reward brave action about this problem. We aren’t asked to enforce decent conduct, we aren’t rewarded for it – indeed we are often punished.. The conflict and ugliness which results from calling out bad behaviour, is seldom worth it. If we approach the bully, what will we get? Probably ignored, maybe injured ourselves. After all, bullies are bullies because they have power; bullies are bullies because they feel safe; bullies are bullies because they are NOT listening to, and do NOT care about, others’ needs.
I do not have a magic pill which will make us all more brave, more decent, more kind. That’s not how it works. How it works is, we establish systems which promote good behaviour, which protect people from bad conduct, which punish and educate people who engage in bad conduct. We make sure those systems really operate and we place a high value on their success.
And we do not calculate whether decency is affordable or not. We don’t count the dollars. We just try to make it possible, for people to be a little more brave and a little less afraid. It really isn’t that complicated.
The text of the 2014 Ghomeshi piece:
Let’s be clear: the victims are not cowards, and this piece doesn’t say they are. They were the brave ones.
People like to be simplistic and focus entirely on the perpetrator, forgetting that it takes the right conditions for a predator to work. Forgetting how their own silences may encourage some other perpetrator somewhere else.
*. *. *
The Jian Ghomeshi story is about everything: it is about how some men treat women; it is about women swallowing their pain and walking through life afraid to seek justice – because they’re pretty sure there is no justice. It is about the incredible lengths we will go to forgive bad boys who are cute, charming and profitable. It is about how the boss always wins, if he is one of those boys. And in a very real way, it is about cowardice. Deep, thick, stinking cowardice. And it is about courage.
It is about those who let it happen and those who, when they learned the truth, stepped up. Our job now is not to judge them, but to judge ourselves. For are we any more brave, just and righteous than they? Or are we just luckier, this time?
The facts of the Ghomeshi case have fallen out like the entrails of a slit pig: a man beats women for sexual pleasure; many acquiesce, and not because they like it, but because of who he is – the golden boy, the most hip player in our little media pool – charming, vulnerable, brilliant, cute. And they kept quiet because it was in their interests. And others who could see it, who could sense it, did the same thing: they kept quiet. And those who basked in the glow and banked the profits of Jian’s success? If they knew, whatever they guessed or had heard – well, they kept quiet too. As years went by girls and women went “for dinner” with the golden boy and got their lights punched out, their throats crushed, their self-respect pummelled. And then they walked out into the night under a dark sky of shame and rage that may never lift.
And then, one of them tried to talk about it. And then another. In a story, on a twitter feed. And they were verbally attacked and marginalized and reminded of just how risky it would be if they kept talking. But a reporter heard about it and started to ask questions. We read now that “everyone knew” – not necessarily about the violence and the teddy bear, but that this was a dangerous guy. So they did what people do around dangerous guys: they shut up and kept a safe distance. They were a formidable squadron of cowards.
But isn’t that what people almost always do? Yup. We shut up. It’s safer. It’s easier. It’s more profitable. And the person who was victimized, bullied, demeaned, hurt, humiliated, dehumanized? She (it’s usually she), well she gets to know just how goddamned unimportant she is. Or even better, she gets told to “suck it up” – a sentiment often shared by older women who, having endured their own petty or worse agonies, are no longer sympathetic. Suck it up.
Sure, we need to be resilient. We need to learn how to manage difficult encounters. We will have embarrassing and painful moments. People will make us feel shitty. Unwelcome advances will always be made. And we don’t want to live in a world of excruciating political correctness, where a man or a woman has to behave like a robot in the course of work – or on a date. It ought to be possible for someone, moved by ardour or too many drinks, to put their hand on someone’s leg or sneak a kiss, and not get charged with assault. Not everything sexual is rape. Not every touch is a battery. Not every mistake is a crime. We need to know how to be adults, okay?
But we also need to know what consent is, and what consent is not. And we need to know that it is not a woman’s responsibility to manage unwelcome attention – it is every man’s responsibility to learn that his appetites are not, actually, more important than someone else’s feelings. And we need to learn that the things we fear happening to us for speaking up may actually not be worse than the moral cancer we get from staying silent.
We must find the strength not to let fear make decisions for us. In the Ghomeshi case, some people had good reason to be afraid – the ones with hands around their throats, for example; the ones whose very fragile careers and reputations would be even more punched up than their pretty faces. The ones who, ironically, people got so pissed at this week when they started to talk. Those women had some very good reasons to be afraid.
Other people did not have such good reasons. Every single person who could smell the sulfur fumes coming off Jian Ghomeshi, knew something was wrong and let it slide. Whatever they were afraid of – and it might also have been career suicide or defamation charges or social ostracism – those things were real and understandable. It is tempting to call them cowards but who among us, in a moment where we could feel in our guts something was wrong but didn’t act upon it, who among us has not sinned in this way? (The one ray of light in this is that once the story began to unfold and the information became convincing, his employer took him off the air.)
And who among us doesn’t have some thinking to do? What exactly are we afraid of? What is that we dread to lose, that is more important than someone else’s dignity? More important than our own dignity? How weak and fragile are we, how needy that we would rather close our eyes to what we can plainly see, than look and speak? How cowardly must we be, to survive?
We are all afraid of things. Fear can be our friend – that’s why you run from a tiger, after all. When my daughter has been afraid – of a sport or a spotlight or a test or embarrassment (a common risk of adolescence), I have told her this: “You can’t be brave if you’re not afraid.” Unless you know there is a potential loss – unless you see the risk but are prepared to take it, in order to do or be what you want – unless you can feel the fear in your bones but still do what you have to do, you can’t call yourself courageous.
There was a singular absence of courage shown in the Ghomeshi case. And now, as the facts congeal into received wisdom, as we see what a few people endured and many people enabled, there is rage. Rage at Jian Ghomeshi. Rage at those who aided and abetted him. Rage at those who could smell it, but stayed silent. And there is rage at those who tried to shame and crush the women who have come forward.
Many despair that this episode is another example of what will never cease. That’s true – this has always happened and will always happen. But is despair the only feeling appropriate now? The answer to that is “absolutely not.” This is a better day than yesterday, if only because we are talking about it all. If only because another girl is not going to get choked on a date tonight. If only because some other predator may be deterred. If only because someone finally did the right thing.
Yes, it has been a horror show for the women involved and that, I fear, is not over. But it is a better day for them if they know now, they are not alone anymore. Their suffering is real and will remain real; our responsibility is to find some way to redeem their pain, to make something decent out of the indecency they have endured.
One thing we can do is to take a long, hard look at our own cowardice.
In the last week, we have been reminded of how fear – an odorless gas that clouds our rooms and paralyzes us, without our even knowing it – we have been reminded of how that fear can make us lesser men and women. In the last week we have been reminded of how the things we value, so often just our comfort, feel more important than what we say we value.
In the last week, we have been reminded that a free press (a roving reporter and the Toronto Star, in this case) is still the guardian of our wider liberty. That there are people with bright torches shining light into dark corners, who are not prepared to let victims cower in the dark, who are unwilling to let predators roam unchallenged.
In the last week, we have been reminded that people who had much to fear, found a way to be courageous. And if a woman who has been beaten, strangled, shamed, insulted and cloaked in self-hating shame – if that woman can take a deep breath and be brave, well then, why the hell can’t we? It isn’t that we shouldn’t be afraid of things. There’s lots to be afraid of. But if we stop there and play it safe, we will earn and deserve the name “coward.”
Because you know, you can’t be brave if you’re not afraid.