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Moi Aussi

By Chris Colcord

Fort Wayne Reader

2018-01-20

I've always enjoyed making fun of the French, even though I know that it's wrong and unfair and relies completely upon lazy cultural stereotypes. But I'm afraid I can't help it; it does my malicious heart well to know that there's a reliable target for my meanest and most injudicious impulses. I know that not every Frenchman is a cantankerous, opinionated contrarian, obviously; I know they all don't exist in coffee houses, bedecked in black turtlenecks and smoking Gauloises by the handful. I know that not every Frenchman is an arrogant intellectual who will make the most spurious and ridiculous arguments simply because he is an intransigently impossible type who will argue anything. I know all this, and yet I still make the jokes. Call it a character weakness. I'm afraid it's one of those things that you try to clean up with resolutions for the New Year, along with all the other well-intentioned changes, that you abandon before February. C'est la vie.

As it turns out, though, any resolution to be nicer to the "French Intellectual" probably would have been obliterated completely by the news on January 9th. On that day, a group of 100 French artists, writers, critics, intellectuals — all women — published a letter in Le Monde that criticized aspects of the #MeToo movement, and its French counterpart, #BalanceTonPorc. In general, the letter stated that the movements--which began in response to the Harvey Weinstein allegations--had gone too far in its pursuit of predators, and that many hard-won sexual freedoms would be threatened by a new, unexpected puritanism. The letter defended the rights of men to engage in sexual banter and flirting that they felt wouldn't necessarily devolve into criminal or threatening behavior.

Not surprisingly, the letter was met with almost universal scorn and derision from across the political and cultural spectrum. The most famous artist associated with the letter — French actress Catherine Deneuve — recognized the furor and quickly released a statement which expressed support and sympathy for all victims of sexual assault (while, pointedly, not backing down form any of her previously stated beliefs.) It's inevitable that the artists and writers associated with the letter are going to have to face some serious questions and criticisms in the immediate future, and it's likely that many will lose jobs and have their reputations tarnished for expressing their opinions on such a topic in such a way.

Even as a self-professed free-speech lunatic, I have to say that I totally understand the response to the letter from the public at large. It's as simple as this: we are currently living under Martial Law when it comes to any sort of criticism to the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements. Whether that's good or bad — and I think it's terrible, actually — doesn't really matter at this point. What matters is that this is the way things are now and the way things are going to be for quite a while. To not realize this elemental fact is a failure to perceive the world as it is.
In the future, I imagine it's going to be possible to have a fairly nuanced conversation about the possible overreaches of the #MeToo movement and and the consequences of possibly rushing to judgment without having all the facts. And that conversation will not only be important, it will be absolutely mandatory for the long-term success of the group. For if we have truly reached the point where a societal shift has occurred, we're going to need to understand it in all its complexity, and that's going to include the difficult and contrary voices.

But again, that's in the future. Right now, the victims' fury needs to have the hour. The crimes have been too great and too numerous and too hushed up for too long that the only voice that should be heard on the stage right now is the righteous and rage-filled one. If that makes you uneasy--and you're not alone--I'm afraid you're just going to have to step aside. In addition to the French contrarians, other celebrities have made mild objections to the #MeToo phenomenon — people like Liam Neeson, Condoleezza Rice — and their pleas for understanding and fairness have opened them up to ridicule. Justice is the only thing demanded in this hour, even over fairness, and surprisingly, justice has been swift: Matt Lauer, Louis CK, Charlie Rose, John Lassetter, Kevin Spacey. These are immediate corrective actions that only came about because of the strength of the #MeToo movement.

But even among those cheering when another celebrity is outed as a pig ("Balance ton porc," by the way, translates to "Expose Your Pig" — the French certainly do everything with a flourish), there has to be at least one person who's a little uncomfortable about the wrath of the swift sword. And maybe that person is asking himself some troubling questions, like: Is Al Franken really equivalent to Harvey Weinstein? Is every allegation proof of a crime? Is it possible to imagine a scenario where an innocent person is railroaded to an unjust conclusion because of a personal vendetta? I know from studying statistics of sexual assault that the number of unreported crimes is astonishingly large, and that the percentage of "made-up" stories of rape and abuse is infinitesimally small. It is incumbent, then, upon everyone to believe a victim when they come forward with their story. And yet I still wonder if all of those accused of assault or impropriety in the wake of the Weinstein scandal. . . are they truly guilty of sexual assault? Maybe it's something else? Maybe some are clean, but the circumstances are murky? And then I start to wonder, what's the exact definition of sexual harassment, anyway? Does anybody really know? And then I start to realize that I'm sounding like the French contrarians, and I immediately stop wondering. For I'm not gonna say anything in public that criticizes, contradicts, or diminishes the #MeToo movement in any way. Not now.