Why is no one challenging the misogyny on Celebrity Big Brother?

The revelation that Jim Davidson, Evander Holyfield and Dappy from N-Dubz are acting like misogynists is hardly shocking. The depressing and dispiriting thing is how ordinary and everyday their attitudes are, and how little their behaviour was challenged.

I’ll get the embarrassing confession out of the way quickly – I have been watching Celebrity Big Brother. I’ve been ill! I’ve had the flu! But there’s no excuse. I started watching in the hope of some Liz Jones-generated outrage, which predictably hasn’t materialised. I kept watching after getting hooked on a love triangle between some bloke out of Blue, a glamour model and an actress. But I’m stopping watching now. The hatred and aggression towards women from the male housemates has reached despair-for-humanity levels, and I can’t take it any more.

I know what you’re thinking – you’re watching Big Brother, and you’re surprised that it’s making you despair for humanity? But hear me out. What’s making me despair is not the shocking revelation that Jim Davidson, Evander Holyfield and Dappy from N-Dubz are misogynists. The depressing and dispiriting thing is how ordinary and everyday their attitudes are, so much so that their chauvinistic beliefs and harassing behaviour can pass by without challenge or comment, either from their fellow housemates, or from the show’s producers.

The main target of their hostility is 26-year-old Luisa Zissman, cupcake entrepreneur and runner-up in last year’s series of The Apprentice. Perhaps she is a very difficult person to live with, although that hasn’t come across. Her main crime, it would appear, is having the audacity to be young, beautiful and self-confident, and to admit to having a healthy and active sex life. She has been very candid and open about her bisexuality and her enjoyment of group sex, and although I’ll admit to finding people who go on and on about all the wild sex they are having a little bit tedious, that’s as far as my judgment goes. In the Big Brother house, however, her sex life is a weapon to be wielded against her, a tool to discredit her in disagreements.


In Saturday night’s episode, Dappy – a man who deliberately leaked a photograph of his genitals to promote his own career – followed Luisa around the house, shouting at her that she is “dirty, disgusting, loose”, that she is a slag and a whore, that her daughter should be ashamed of her. He proclaimed loudly and surely that such things are different for men than for women; that while a man who sleeps with five women is a pig, a woman who sleeps with five men is a slag, and “I would rather be a pig than a slag”. Despite Luisa’s clear, calm, but obviously distressed pleas for him to walk away and leave her alone, he followed her from room to room, repeating his sexist tirade, and encouraging bystanders to join in the denunciation. Meanwhile, Evander Holyfield mocked Luisa and her friend Jasmine for thinking there could ever be such thing as equality between the sexes. Jim Davidson apportioned fifty per cent of the blame for the abuse on to Luisa herself – something he later explained by the fact that “I’m a male chauvinist pig”. So that’s alright then. I had assumed he was a nasty, bullying woman-hater, but it turns out he’s just one of those loveable male chauvinist pigs you used to hear about it.

The sexist attitudes held by Dappy and his allies don’t surprise me, and nor does his aggressive and harassing manner of expressing them. But what shocked and disturbed me was that nobody intervened. The rest of the housemates were studiously silent, and when pushed to comment, were keen to interpret it as an argument where blame lay equally on both sides. And if the programme-makers noticed the sexism and harassment that was going on, they didn’t share their concern with the viewers. A few days earlier, Evander Holyfield made some pronouncements about homosexuality being abnormal and like a disability – comments which rightly saw him quickly and publicly rebuked by the show’s producers, and which may result in an Ofcom investigation. It is striking that the public expression of one category of morally reprehensible views is so unacceptable that the programme-makers are forced into condemnation; but when the target of your views is women, it is unlikely that anyone will even notice. You can jokingly and self-deprecatingly make reference to your sexism, as Davidson has done, and still be cheered by the crowds assembled outside.

We know that the Big Brother house is rarely a hotbed of liberal, progressive thought. But the “Jade Goody Big Brother racism row”, as it is now officially known, prompted an important debate and a great deal of national introspection about race relations. The individuals at the centre of those events had to be carefully ferreted away from the crowds and the cameras, while the conversation about what this means about our society and our culture dominated the media. As I watched Saturday evening’s episode, what frustrated me most was not the sexist behaviour I was watching, but the certain knowledge that the hatred towards women being expressed in there isn’t going to trigger any national soul-searching about societal misogyny. And not just because I was the only one watching.


Last year's Apprentice runner-up Luisa Zissman has been the main target of the CBB misogyny. Photo: Getty

Rebecca Reilly-Cooper is a lecturer in Political Theory at the University of Warwick. She tweets as @boodleoops.

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The City of London was never the same after the "Big Bang"

Michael Howard reviews Iain Martin's new book on the legacy of the financial revolution 30 years on.

We are inundated with books that are, in effect, inquests on episodes of past failure, grievous mistakes in policy decisions and shortcomings of leadership. So it is refreshing to read this lively account of a series of actions that add up to one of the undoubted, if not undisputed, successes of modern ­government action.

Iain Martin has marked the 30th anniversary of the City’s Big Bang, which took place on 27 October 1986, by writing what he bills as the inside story of a financial revolution that changed the world. Yet his book ranges far and wide. He places Big Bang in its proper context in the history of the City of London, explaining, for example, and in some detail, the development of the financial panics of 1857 and 1873, as well as more recent crises with which we are more familiar.

Big Bang is the term commonly applied to the changes in the London Stock Exchange that followed an agreement reached between Cecil Parkinson, the then secretary of state for trade and industry, and Nicholas Goodison, the chairman of the exchange, shortly after the 1983 election. The agreement provided for the dismantling of many of the restrictive practices that had suited the cosy club of those who had made a comfortable living on the exchange for decades. It was undoubtedly one of the most important of the changes made in the early 1980s that equipped the City of London to become the world’s pre-eminent centre of international capital that it is today.

But it was not the only one. There was the decision early in the life of the Thatcher government to dismantle foreign-exchange restrictions, as well as the redevelopment of Docklands, which provided room for the physical expansion of the City (which was so necessary for the influx of foreign banks that followed the other changes).

For the first change, Geoffrey Howe and Nigel Lawson, at the Treasury at the time, deserve full credit, particularly as Margaret Thatcher was rather hesitant about the radical nature of the change. The second was a result of Michael Heseltine setting up the London Docklands Development Corporation, which assumed planning powers that were previously in the hands of the local authorities in the area. Canary Wharf surely would not exist today had that decision not been made – and even though the book gives a great deal of well-deserved credit to the officials and developers who took up the baton, Heseltine’s role is barely mentioned. Rarely is a politician able to see the physical signs of his legacy so clearly. Heseltine would be fully entitled to appropriate Christopher Wren’s epitaph: “Si monumentum requiris, circumspice.”

These changes are often criticised for having opened the gates to unbridled capitalism and greed and Martin, while acknow­ledging the lasting achievements of the new regime, also explores its downside. Arguably, he sometimes goes too far. Are the disparities in pay that we now have a consequence of Big Bang? Can it be blamed for the increase in the pay of footballers? This is doubtful. Surely these effects owe more to market forces, in the case of footballers, and shortcomings in corporate governance, in the case of executive pay. (It will be interesting to see whether the attempts by the current government to address the latter achieve the desired results.)

Martin deals with the allegation that the changes brought in a new world in which moneymaking could be given full rein without the need to abide by any significant regulation. This is far from the truth. My limited part in bringing about these changes was the responsibility I was handed, in my first job in government, for steering through parliament what became the Financial Services Act 1986. This was intended to provide statutory underpinning for a system of self-regulation by the various sectors of the financial industry. It didn’t work out exactly as I had intended but, paradoxically, one of the main criticisms of the regulatory system made in the book is that we now have a system that is too legalistic. Rather dubious comparisons are made with a largely mythical golden age, when higher standards of conduct were the order of the day without any need for legal constraints. The history of insider dealing (and the all-too-recently recognised need to legislate to make this unlawful) gives the lie to this rose-tinted picture of life in the pre-Big Bang City.

As Martin rightly stresses, compliance with the law is not enough. People also need to take into account the moral implications of their conduct. However, there are limits to the extent to which governments can legislate on this basis. The law can provide the basic parameters within which legal behaviour is to be constrained. Anything above and beyond that must be a matter for individual conscience, constrained by generally accepted standards of morality.

The book concludes with an attempt at an even-handed assessment of the likely future for the City in the post-Brexit world. There are risks and uncertainties. Mercifully, Martin largely avoids a detailed discussion of the Markets in Financial Instruments Directive and its effect on “passporting”, which allows UK financial services easy access to the European Economic Area. But surely the City will hold on to its pre-eminence as long as it retains its advantages as a place to conduct business? The European banks and other institutions that do business in London at present don’t do so out of love or affection. They do so because they are able to operate there with maximum efficiency.

The often rehearsed advantages of London – the time zone, the English language, the incomparable professional infrastructure – will not go away. It is not as if there is an abundance of capital available in the banks of the EU: Europe’s business and financial institutions cannot afford to dispense with the services that London has to offer. As Martin puts it in the last sentences of the book, “All one can say is: the City will survive, and prosper. It usually does.”

Crash Bang Wallop is not flawless. (One of its amusing errors is to refer, in the context of a discussion of the difficulties faced by the firm Slater Walker, to one of its founders as Jim Walker, a name that neither Jim Slater nor Peter Walker, the actual founders, would be likely to recognise.) Yet it is a thoroughly readable account of one of the most important and far-reaching decisions of modern government, and a timely reminder of how the City of London got to where it is now.

Michael Howard is a former leader of the Conservative Party

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood