If you search Russell Brand on Twitter, you’ll instantly uncover a tirade of tweets coming out in full support of Brand in the wake of allegations of sexual abuse, emotional abuse, manipulative behaviour, grooming, and rape. A catalogue of conspiracy, outright victim-blaming, and staunch support for an abuser is infuriating and dangerous – but it isn’t shocking. The cultural allowance given to Brand is symptomatic of a deeply ingrained patriarchal structure that propagates male abusers and lets them get away with it.
Every time – and there have been so many – a rich and famous man is outed for violence towards women, a seismic shift erupts in the cultural discourse. Supporters come creeping out of the woodwork, clutching to a profound respect and endorsement of the ‘innocent until proven guilty’ precedent. In legal proceedings, this precedent protects the defendant under the assumption of innocence. But this has since shifted from the law courts to the world of media coverage and subsequent cultural debate. When a rich and famous man comes up against allegations of his vile behaviour, we seem to naturally bestow on him this legal rule: that he is innocent until he is proven guilty.
For anyone who has watched the Channel 4 and Sunday Times Dispatches investigation into Brand, the evidence is utterly damning
First of all, four women testify in gruelling detail about the violence that was done to them. This should be enough. There is further evidence including one woman visiting a rape crisis centre and providing a statement of what happened to her, corroboration to witness evidence, explicit examples of Brand’s misogyny, and a clause in a contract that promised Brand would have no sex in the workplace, yet Brand is still awarded the cultural allowance of being innocent until proven guilty.
The Channel 4 investigation is named In Plain Sight, perfectly encapsulating the ability of rich and powerful men to be blatant about their violent misogyny and avoid punishment whilst doing so. The noughties and early 2010s were a fertile breeding ground for Brand’s disgusting ‘comedy.’ Retrospectively, the obscenely misogynistic material he used communicated how Brand saw women as inferior and disposable – objects to do with as he pleased. Brand was decadently indulged by a system that celebrates the unchecked power of men that still works with ferocity today.
In comparison to the allowance given to Brand (and many other famous men accused of sexual violence) is the demonisation of female sexuality and the social punishment inflicted on female celebrities. Take any example of a female celebrity from the days Brand was running around TV sets making jokes about forced blow-jobs or offering to take his naked assistant to an interview with Jimmy Saville right up to today and see the stark difference in how male and female sexuality is reported on and considered. You only have to mention the media coverage and treatment of young female celebrities like Britney Spears and Miley Cyrus, and their sexuality to understand this unfair dichotomy.
The Independent’s Women’s Correspondent, Maya Oppenheim, captures this astoundingly:
Promiscuity is marketed for men as an accolade
It is applauded and thus utilised as a defence mechanism when allegations of sexual violence appear. A rebranding of promiscuity takes place, softening the allegations of sexual violence for men, hiding violence through the very vowels of the word itself. Brand’s career revolved around his sexuality, advertising himself as a depraved ‘sex addict’ and hiding a world of evils whilst being heralded for it. The Sun named him ‘Shagger of the Year’ three times. Brand was not promiscuous; he was sexually violent.
Conversely, for women, promiscuity or even the existence of female sexuality is finely tuned to become the centrifugal facet of the woman’s character and identity. Everything revolves around her sexuality, which is usually cast in a demonising light. And when a woman shares her experience of sexual violence, her promiscuity takes to the stand – not him.
Further, when an abuser is outed, the conversation seems to divert to the ‘upstanding’ character of the man accused, irrespective of the allegations against him. As if at the opposing ends of a Venn diagram, conversation of his intelligence, talent, belief system, or simply, because he is a rich, white man, seems to become utterly estranged from the allegations. We protect and strengthen all of the other aspects of his character and leave the murky little details in the shadows. For instance, in the recent case of Danny Masterson, who was sentenced to thirty years to life for two rapes, his character was testified to by actors Mila Kunis and Ashton Kutcher, graced in pen as a ‘role model’ and ‘outstanding older brother figure.’ Influencing the sentencing decision were these testaments to character, of a man who drugged his victims to rape them. Recorded, not just through tabloids and tweets but through the judicial system, is Masterson’s power.
On the other end of the spectrum is the treatment of women in public life who are accused of violence
Caroline Flack was relentlessly and viciously hounded by the British tabloids and faced an overwhelming social punishment, leading to her death. Flack wasn’t handed one iota of consideration, one measly offering of the innocent until proven guilty assumption. Flack’s identity was rebranded – almost overnight – into an abuser who deserved no privacy, no consideration, no empathy.
The Daily Mail published photos of Caroline’s apartment, including a photograph of blood on her door. That same article went on to discuss Caroline’s romantic past with the title: ‘Caroline Flack’s History of Toyboy Lovers.’ The Sun ran an exclusive double-page spread with the headline: ‘Flack’s bedroom bloodbath,’ and photographed her leaving court, running emotive quotes from the case on the front page.
Fashioned meticulously and calculated to the minutiae of detail, is how to regulate, mistreat, and dispose of women. During the months from the incident to Caroline’s suicide, Caroline never outwardly spoke of her experience. Alluding to being silenced on her social media, Caroline had no opportunity to save any emblem of her character. Russell Brand, right now, is making videos and appearing at shows, expressing that he ‘absolutely refutes,’ the ‘litany of extremely egregious and aggressive attacks,’ against him. Brand can speak, influence, and sustain his power.
So ingrained in the patriarchal structure is the dismissal of victims and the assumption of innocence for men that there are now conspiracy theories making their way through the internet, like wildfire, of the establishment and the mainstream media working to take Brand down. Instead of hearing and respecting victims, the patriarchy prefers to weave an outlandish web of theory and turn the threat and danger on itself, to avoid discussion of the real crisis of sexual violence against women.
These responses come out like infestations. They weave their way through the discourse, becoming an unavoidable and influential narrative that seeks to eclipse any constructive discussion on sexual violence.
Culturally, we do not hold rich and powerful abusers and rapists to account
Instead, we rally behind them in support, cooking up theories to assert their innocence. We write testaments to how ‘good’ they are, as if allegations of sexual violence are mere hearsay, a silly rumour heard in a high school corridor that cannot mar the prowess of a successful man, cannot tear him down. Instead, we make these men President. We place them on the Supreme Court. We affirm and validate them, telling them they are untouchable; as they always knew they were.
And what do we do to the victims? We tell victims that we won’t believe them and the system will not bring justice for the abhorrent acts that are done to them. Rather, we religiously return to an extremely harmful and pernicious perspective of victims: that they are lying, fashioning an elaborate web of deceit and allegation for monetary gain, fame, or power. Questions of ‘Why didn’t they tell anyone sooner?’ or ‘Do you really think he did it?’ dominate. Statistic evidence shows that false allegations of rape are so rare (‘4% of cases of sexual violence reported to the UK police are found or suspected to be false’), yet an overwhelmingly popular response to a powerful man being outed is that the victim has to be lying.
Why does the conversation become clad with conspiracies of a ‘concerted agenda’ or an ‘Orwellian development’ working deviously to threaten the character and reputation of an abuser? Why does the conversation not revolve around the fact that Brand, that so many other powerful men have been getting away with violent misogyny, abuse, and rape for decades? Why does the conversation not centre around the victims who have bravely come up against a system designed to keep them quiet? Why do we not believe victims as soon as we hear allegations? Because, if we did, a lot of rich and powerful men would be held accountable for their actions.
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Written by Lauren Chadwick
