“Rape culture exists because we don’t believe it does. From tacit acceptance of misogyny in everything from casual conversations with our peers to the media we consume, we accept the degradation of women and posit uncontrollable hyper-sexuality of men as the norm. But rape is endemic to our culture because there’s no widely accepted cultural definition of what it actually is.”

—The Nation Magazine (February 4, 2013)

I’m not certain I even know what this means. Rhetorically, though, it’s impressive. In a single sentence, its writers “establish” that we are all of their party and that something exists, because we don’t believe it does.

I won’t pretend to know anything about The Nation, but does a position like this pass for responsible journalism? I’ve surveyed a lot of this kind of writing recently, and it alarms me for more than just the reasons that I (1) don’t believe we do “accept the degradation of women,” (2) don’t believe that rape is “endemic to our culture” any more than it is endemic to the animal kingdom, and (3) do believe the definition of rape is pretty clearly and universally understood.

What the writers mean, I guess, is that rape culture, which they haven’t established exists in the first place, continues to exist, because we unknowingly contribute to its perpetuation by saying and doing things that we are not aware reveal our unconscious hatred of women. You didn’t know you hated women? Well, you do.

We all do, apparently. And shame on us for it.

You see how this rhetoric works. It’s more than just assertive; it’s coercive. A lot of it also betrays patently false reasoning that masks what’s actually propagandist badgering. The source of its outrage is sympathetic; how it expresses that outrage is significantly less so.

Consider this line of argument: “When an instance of sexual assault makes the news and the first questions the media asks [sic]are about the victim’s sobriety, or clothes, or sexuality, we should all be prepared to pivot to ask, instead, what messages the perpetrators received over their lifetime about rape and about ‘being a man.’ Here’s a tip: the right question is not, ‘What was she doing/wearing/saying when she was raped?’ The right question is, ‘What made him think this is acceptable?’”

“During the postwar period of Radical Reconstruction (1867-1877), many white writers argued that without slavery—which supposedly contained their animalistic tendencies—blacks were reverting to criminal savagery. The brute caricature portrayed black men as threatening menaces, fiends, and sociopaths, and as hideous, terrifying predators who targeted helpless victims, especially white women.”

(Note the Freudian slip: “an instance” has “perpetrators,” plural. It’s not for nothing that some have perceived in writing like this the tacit belief that all men are rapists.)

First, how has the postulated “instance of sexual assault” been qualified as such? These writers presume that an incident is an “assault” with a “victim.” The overwhelming likelihood in a case like this is that it is what it appears to be, but it’s not the job of investigators, including journalists, to equate appearances with facts. There are no “right” questions. Some questions may be tactful, some rude or insensitive, some effective at exposing the truth, some less so. The value or “rightness” of a question can only be judged in hindsight, as writers for a news magazine should know.

If all journalists shared these writers’ jaundiced perspective or felt constrained to only ask “appropriate” questions, how many instances of false allegations should we imagine would ever be recognized, let alone sanctioned? I have an interest in false allegations, and the answer to this question disturbs me.

I’ve surveyed studies of the incidence rate of false allegations of rape, and I have no reluctance allowing for argument’s sake that rape is rarely alleged falsely. What I have a problem with is the non-recognition of the harm that’s wrought when rape is alleged falsely—and no one argues that this never happens. The life of an innocent may be destroyed. And we will have destroyed it.

A rape is a fait accompli. Before we know about it, it’s done. Falsely prosecuting someone for rape (or anything else), however, isn’t a case of a bad person doing a bad thing. It’s a case of bringing the full weight and menace of the state to bear on an innocent person. Prosecution is a choice that we are all answerable for.

Although the writers would argue the contrary (and do), society isn’t accountable for the actions of individuals. It is, however, accountable for the actions of its elected officials, agents, and representatives. We are accountable, and we collectively must be guided by a higher moral standard than any one individual. We craft laws and policy, and we have an ethical responsibility to ensure laws and policy are fair and scrupulously applied.

This blog isn’t about rape. But what it is about, restraining order abuse, is a product of the rhetoric exemplified by the article I’ve criticized. Propagandist writing about harassment isn’t what keeps eyes diverted from restraining order injustice, and it isn’t what has spawned the “abuse industry.” Writing about violence against women has.

I could argue that restraining order abuse exists because we don’t believe it does. But it’s more clearly said that it exists because we believe the propaganda—or are too intimidated to scrutinize or take exception to it.

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