Welfare 6 July 2011 Sharing a lift with Richard Dawkins The rationalist champion compares propositioning a woman with chewing gum. Sign up to the Staggers Morning Call email * Print HTML There is considerable controversy in the blogosphere about Richard Dawkins and his apparent views on women. Dawkins, whose strident atheism undoubtedly puts off more people than it attracts, has long been a figure who has divided atheists and skeptics (the latter a general label for many who self-consciously promote critical thinking and an evidence-based approach). The current controversy follows a video posted by the leading American skeptic campaigner and pundit, Rebecca Watson (known widely for her involvement with the excellent Skepchick site). I know Rebecca slightly through the skeptical movement (I help run Westminster Skeptics) and although I often do not agree with her, this particular video was sensible and constructive. She simply discusses in a calm and reflective manner how uncomfortable she felt when a man propositioned her in a lift. As she later wrote: I said, "Guys, don't do that." Really, that's what I said. I didn't call for an end to sex. I didn't accuse the man in my story of rape. I didn't say all men are monsters. I said, "Guys, don't do that." Fair enough, one would think. There is no reason to believe that she placed any more import on what she said than that. However, in an extraordinary and somewhat erratic comment by Richard Dawkins, he invokes this video in a message he would send to an imaginary Muslim woman complaining of misogyny: Dear Muslima Stop whining, will you. Yes, yes, I know you had your genitals mutilated with a razor blade, and . . . yawn . . . don't tell me yet again, I know you aren't allowed to drive a car, and you can't leave the house without a male relative, and your husband is allowed to beat you, and you'll be stoned to death if you commit adultery. But stop whining, will you. Think of the suffering your poor American sisters have to put up with. Only this week I heard of one, she calls herself Skep"chick", and do you know what happened to her? A man in a hotel elevator invited her back to his room for coffee. I am not exaggerating. He really did. He invited her back to his room for coffee. Of course she said no, and of course he didn't lay a finger on her, but even so . . . And you, Muslima, think you have misogyny to complain about! For goodness sake grow up, or at least grow a thicker skin. Richard One of many problems here is that Rebecca didn't use her video to downplay the plight of Muslim women from the perspective of an American woman. In fact, she made no connection at all. The connection seems only to have occurred in the mind of Richard Dawkins. Was it even a fair point? Of course it was not. Just because there is severe misogyny in one context doesn't remove the need to deal rationally and helpfully with its lesser manifestation in other contexts. When asked to explain his position by someone asking for clarification whether he had made the argument that, since worse things are happening somewhere else, we have no right to try to fix things closer to home, the response was as follows: No I wasn't making that argument. Here's the argument I was making. The man in the elevator didn't physically touch her, didn't attempt to bar her way out of the elevator, didn't even use foul language at her. He spoke some words to her. Just words. She no doubt replied with words. That was that. Words. Only words, and apparently quite polite words at that. If she felt his behaviour was creepy, that was her privilege, just as it was the Catholics' privilege to feel offended and hurt when PZ nailed the cracker. PZ didn't physically strike any Catholics. All he did was nail a wafer, and he was absolutely right to do so because the heightened value of the wafer was a fantasy in the minds of the offended Catholics. Similarly, Rebecca's feeling that the man's proposition was 'creepy' was her own interpretation of his behaviour, presumably not his. She was probably offended to about the same extent as I am offended if a man gets into an elevator with me chewing gum. But he does me no physical damage and I simply grin and bear it until either I or he gets out of the elevator. It would be different if he physically attacked me. Muslim women suffer physically from misogyny, their lives are substantially damaged by religiously inspired misogyny. Not just words, real deeds, painful, physical deeds, physical privations, legally sanctioned demeanings. The equivalent would be if PZ had nailed not a cracker but a Catholic. Then they'd have had good reason to complain. Richard Explanations often can make things worse, and so it did in this case. As Phil Plait correctly states, there is no natural meaning to this other than the fact that Dawkins is comparing the discomfort of a woman propositioned in a lift with him sharing a lift with a man chewing gum. This is all strange stuff indeed from a man professing to be a promoter of rational thinking. He is making connections which do not exist and positing analogies which do not make any sense. From a person with his supposed intellectual reputation, this is surely a disgrace. This is more what one would expect from Richard Littlejohn than Richard Dawkins. But it seems part of a possible trend. Those who merely pose as rationalists and promoters of liberal values are being found out. The philosopher AC Grayling has founded a sham college, supported by Dawkins, which is nothing more than a glorified tutorial agency for rich students unable to get places elsewhere. The progressive journalist Johann Hari has apologised for an irregular interview technique, about which questions still remain. But it is not a bad thing for those who promote rational and liberal values to be held to them. There is virtue in consistency. Is Richard Dawkins a sexist? In my opinion, he certainly seems to be, on the basis of this evidence. To compare the discomfort of a women being propositioned in a lift with his aesthetic displeasure of another man chewing gum is actually difficult to construe in any other way. Can Richard Dawkins still credibly pose as a champion of rational thinking and an evidence-based approach? In my opinion, he certainly cannot, at least not in the way he did before. The principle of the "survival of the fittest" applies in respect of intellectual reputations as it can elsewhere, and what now happens to the intellectual reputation of Richard Dawkins may be an example of the principle in practice. David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman. You can follow him on Twitter and on Facebook. › Hate, Actually... David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog. His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case. His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson. David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court. (Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.) More Related articles Stop pretending “challenging” homophobic professors is part of academic debate Never in my life have I been so happy to be described as miserably incorrect Will Theresa May really stay on and fight another election? Subscription offer 12 issues for £12 + FREE book LEARN MORE Close This week’s magazine
Show Hide image UK 5 September 2017 Never in my life have I been so happy to be described as miserably incorrect I accept that things are getting out of control. Sign up to the Staggers Morning Call email * Print HTML I think I am going mad. It is, paradoxically, the only sane response to the year I’ve been having. I have not stuck pencils up my nose and put my underpants on my head, like Blackadder, but there are definite internal stirrings and flickerings of the mind, like a faulty neon tube. The external symptoms present as an inability to sleep on alternate nights and an inability to wake up on the other days; a disinclination to socialise; a complete inability to socialise with more than one person at a time; and an even worse than usual inability to tidy up my mess. I manage to keep the kitchen under some kind of rudimentary control but the bedroom is that of a man who has given up all hope. Readers familiar with this column will know that I am not exactly Mr Tidy but earlier today I couldn’t find my trousers, which I think you will agree represents a new low. Eventually I found them after an intensive, increasingly baffled search (“How can you lose your trousers? How can you lose your trousers?” I kept repeating to myself, my voice an octave higher than normal), but I accept that things are getting out of control. On Friday the mess ate my wallet and I realised that it was going to take me longer to find it than it would to call up the bank and arrange for some emergency cash. This will be the third time this year, and there are still four months to go, but at least I am familiar with the drill, which struck me as magic the first time I encountered it. (Getting money from a machine without using a card! A new universe briefly flashed into view.) Also, the Swiss army knife my children gave me has gone missing among the debris. Luckily, this happened shortly after I cut my toenails but, unluckily, shortly before I was due to cut my fingernails, and now they are approaching that awful stage at which they click against the keys on the laptop and collect grime and muck as if by their own volition. The Howard Hughes effect is marked and is becoming more so. I did find a pair of those crappy little curved scissors you get from the chemist but these are worse than useless – they are an insult to the very idea of nail-paring. As you will have found out if you’ve ever tried to use them, all they do is bend the nail, sometimes managing to tear it a bit, in a way that makes me feel mildly nauseated. I wonder why these scissors, which promise so much but deliver so little, are still allowed to be sold. So I was waiting for some good news. And it arrived, unusually, in the form of a pair of emails, forwarded to me, telling me that I had been wrong. The actual formulation was “miserably incorrect”, and never have I been so happy to be proved wrong. You may recall, a couple of weeks ago, an unusually gloomy column (even by my standards) about the disappearance of the second-hand bookshops of Bell Street, in north-west London. The two indignant emails asked for a correction: there was still a perfectly functioning second-hand bookshop further up the street, if only I’d bothered to look. As it was, I was dimly aware that there was another one up the road (and another around the corner from that, if I am not mistaken). I was just not, at the time, in a fit state to see if it still existed. The prospect of that one having gone was too grim, so I turned back for home. But lo! The Archive Bookstore still survives, it seems, at 83 Bell Street, and it was the one with the wonky piano in the basement! And also a sign that tells the passer-by, or customer, hitherto unremarked on by me: “It’s going to get worse.” I am in need of solace, so I head up there immediately. And, yes, it thrives, in that mysterious way second-hand bookshops thrive: half in, half out of the world. I am, as usual, the only customer. How I mentally translated this shop – for it had been the one I’d been thinking of – 50 or 60 yards up the road from its location I am not sure. Perhaps it is another one of my symptoms of madness. This time I am not going to splurge on a rare antiquarian volume. I snaffle up translations of Zola’s La Bête humaine, Théophile Gautier’s Mademoiselle de Maupin, Apollonius of Rhodes’s The Voyage of Argo and a small score of Berg’s Violin Concerto. As I’m paying up, I notice what looks like a first edition – and is – of The Thurber Carnival. Still with jacket. It’s £4.50. I’d have paid ten times that. Well, seven times. So it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only loony out there. Nicholas Lezard is a literary critic for the Guardian and also writes for the Independent. He writes the Down and Out in London column for the New Statesman. This article first appeared in the 31 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The decline of the American empire More Related articles Stop pretending “challenging” homophobic professors is part of academic debate Will Theresa May really stay on and fight another election? How Charles Darwin's theories influenced the growth of the welfare state Subscription offer 12 issues for £12 + FREE book LEARN MORE Close This week’s magazine