By Christine Rosen
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
A recent accusation by writer E. Jean Carroll that Donald
Trump sexually assaulted her more than 20 years ago has emerged as the latest
example of our cultural confusion over how to handle such allegations,
especially when they are made about a public figure. It’s also a signal that
the #MeToo movement remains a morally muddled enterprise. Even the New York Times, which broke the Harvey
Weinstein story and has followed up with further investigative reporting about
other accusations of assault, felt the urge to apologize for not making the
Trump allegations front-page news, despite their inability to corroborate
Carroll’s story.
The trickle-down effects of #MeToo continued to be felt,
often in bizarre ways. Harvey Weinstein is still embroiled in legal proceedings
related to multiple charges of assault and harassment, and a former member of
his legal team, Ronald S. Sullivan, Jr., became the subject of a student-led campaign
to oust him from his teaching position at Harvard Law School and his role as
faculty dean of Winthrop House on campus. He kept his faculty position but the
school refused to renew his appointment as dean, citing students’ claim that
they felt “unsafe” because of the work he had done to defend Weinstein. As
Sullivan argued in an opinion piece in the New
York Times, “Unchecked emotion has replaced thoughtful reasoning on campus.
Feelings are no longer subjected to evidence, analysis or empirical defense.
Angry demands, rather than rigorous arguments, now appear to guide university
policy.”
These are also the things that have, unfortunately, too
often continued to guide the #MeToo movement. Consider one of the most
egregiously misleading #MeToo charges: those made against comedian Aziz Ansari.
In 2018, Ansari was accused of sexual assault in an article that appeared on
the website Babe.net (the website, which trafficked in poorly written think
pieces about subjects such as walks of shame, described itself as a place for
women “who don’t give a f**k” and is now, mercifully, defunct).
Ansari’s accuser, who refused to identify herself,
described a date she had with the comedian as an assault, even though by her
own admission she eagerly agreed to go back to his apartment and engaged in
consensual sexual activity with him. Her conflation of Ansari’s somewhat
caddish behavior with rape was an act of deliberate character assassination and
the fact that so many #MeToo supporters enthusiastically demanded Ansari’s head
on a platter merely because one person made a questionable claim about him
undermined the movement. As Bari Weiss argued at the time, the only thing
Ansari was guilty of was not being a mind-reader.
Flash forward to the present day, when Ansari’s fellow
comedian and friend Mindy Kaling posted a picture of her ticket to a recent
Ansari stand-up performance on Instagram with the compliment, “Funniest shit
ever.” She was mobbed by angry commenters who claimed she was unfairly
“rehabbing” a rapist (Ansari has only recently begun performing again). As one
person posted, “Super disappointed that you’d flaunt your support of this man
over your support of victims. What’s next, you gonna go hang out and bullet
journal with Kavanaugh?” Another said she was unfollowing Kaling’s account
because “as a survivor, this is disappointing.”
To her credit, Kaling defended Ansari; as the Boston Globe reported, she said, “I am a
champion of women. I am also a champion of my friend and do not believe they
are mutually exclusive. I don’t know your experience, but I respect however you
react—sorry to see you go.” Harvard University administrators could learn
something from Kaling’s willingness to defend her principles.
As the Sullivan and Ansari cases suggest, there is still
a lot of confusion about the presumption of innocence when it comes to sexual
assault allegations—in Sullivan’s case, even participating in the
constitutionally protected right to offer the accused a legal defense was
enough to earn him pariah status (and hateful graffiti about him sprayed on
buildings on Harvard’s campus).
But #MeToo’s force has been unevenly applied to
politicians. Remember Virginia Lieutenant Governor Justin Fairfax, who has also
been accused of assault? He’s still in office and hasn’t faced any
repercussions. In fact, as he recently told the Richmond Times-Dispatch, he is “very hopeful about the future” and
says, “We’ve gotten a lot of encouragement about future political steps. I’m
thinking very seriously about 2021.”
He went so far as to imply that the sexual assault
allegations leveled against him by two women have made him more popular, not
less. “Many people a year ago would not have recognized me, now they really
do,” Fairfax told reporters. “People come up to me at gas stations, they say,
‘Hey, we recognize you. We love you. We know what they are saying about you is
false.’” His accusers’ efforts to testify under oath before the Virginia
General Assembly about their claims continue to be blocked by Democrats in the
state.
It’s not just Democrats; there is plenty of hypocrisy to
go around when it comes to pursuing sexual assault claims against public
figures. Any claim of sexual assault should be taken seriously, whether it’s
made about a private citizen or the president of the United States (something
Trump’s defenders, who were happy to believe Juanita Broaddrick’s claim that
she was raped by Bill Clinton but now think “She’s not my type” is an
appropriate response by Trump to Carroll’s, would do well to remember). Due
process and the presumption of innocence should not be sacrificed on the altar
of ideological commitments, whether those commitments are to politicians like
Fairfax or Trump, or to a galvanizing social movement like #MeToo.
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