Why should it be only women who speak out about sexual violence? An IWD protest in Brazil. Photo: Getty
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On International Women's Day, let's ask men why progress towards equality is so slow

Men need to do more than ask for gratitude for being an ‘ally’ or say they think equality is a ‘good thing’ in principle. They need to feel real anger - and help make a change.

 

As our TV screens, Twitter feeds, newspapers and magazines burst with feminine talent for International Women’s Day, I have a nagging feeling something has been lost in translation. International Women’s Day shouldn’t actually be about women per se. It’s about showing what it would be like to have a more equal society. A magical glimpse of a parallel universe where all our lives are full - not just for one day, but every day - of the difference women can make if they are free to fulfill their potential. What kind of lives we could all have if they really were given equal billing, or even – perish the thought - promoted.

And when the conversation only focuses on how women are leading the charge for change, the ball is then put firmly in our court. Why can’t we find the women to lead the country, to run our companies, to fight our wars and write our great novels if they are all so talented, the refrain goes. Yet we rarely ask what kind of society it is we expect women to take on – or who else has a role to play in changing it. That makes it seem like ending inequality is something for women to do, not something from which we all benefit. In turn, the question about why progress is so slow – when we’ve had feminism for generations – also becomes something for women to answer alone.

Yes, you - Women. Why have you let inequality endure? Why does the pay gap still exists, and indeed why is it is getting bigger? Its existence is ‘just a fact’, says Nigel Farage . . . because only women have children and so of course their pay should suffer. Why are women only overwhelmingly appointed to non-exec positions in businesses rather than as decision makers - because it is ‘elitist’ to want to see women running businesses, according to Alison Wolf. Why do rape and domestic violence reports continue to rise, but prosecutions continue to fall – because it is ‘complex’, according to the police.  The list goes on - why do we still lock up women who have experienced sexual violence in conflict? Why do only middle class, white feminists seem to get the book deals? And why is the word feminism so negative, ‘unhelpful’ and offputting? All this and more is our problem - and so ours alone to resolve.

It's time to stop the blame game in its tracks. It is not for women to change the world, but for the world to change through equality for women. And that means we need to turn to the other half of the equation and ask men as the major beneficiaries why progress is so slow - and what they are going to do about it.

Feminism isn’t about women. It’s about the inequality in power and outcomes that occurs when women are locked out from the same opportunities as their male counterparts. Changing that requires not just women to come forward but men to unlock those barriers too. To be the ones saying they are frustrated by the pace of change, because they are missing out on that magical world they get to glimpse once a year on IWD. Men need to do more than ask for gratitude for being an ‘ally’ or say they think equality is a ‘good thing’ in principle. They need to feel real anger that more should be done - and help with the action necessary to get it done.

I stand alongside those amazing women fighting the good fight and encouraging them to speak up. Their diverse voices enrich my life and make me passionate about equality and how it will benefit me and those I love. But this International Women’s Day, I’m turning to my male colleagues, friends and family and asking them not just to listen, but to be accountable too.

Men of the world: see the difference women make and the talent they have. See what you are missing out on when inequality goes unchallenged, when your mothers, sisters, lovers and friends have to put up with this rubbish we call the patriarchy and so struggle to succeed. The time for sympathy or indifference is over. Start being selfish and do something about breaking it down yourselves – trust us, it will make your lives better too, not just on IWD but every day.  

Photo: Reuters
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Murder by numbers: the legacy of the Grenfell Tower fire

It is difficult to refute the reality of suffering when the death toll is still being reckoned.

How do we measure human malice? Sometimes it’s all too easy. This summer, British cities are struggling through the aftermath of successive terrorist attacks and hate crimes. The Manchester bombing. The Westminster Bridge murders. The London Bridge atrocity. The attack on people outside the Finsbury Park Mosque in north London and on other mosques. The unidentified young men who are still at large in the capital after spraying acid in the faces of passers-by, mutilating them.

In Britain, we are commendably resilient about these things. Returning to London after some time away, I found my spirits lifted by an issue of the London Evening Standard magazine that celebrated the ordinary people who stepped in to help after these atrocities. The paramedics who worked through the night. The Romanian chef who offered shelter in his bakery. The football fan who took on the London Bridge terrorists, screaming, “Fuck you, I’m Millwall!” The student housing co-ordinator who rushed to organise board for the victims of the inferno at the Grenfell Tower and their families.

Wait. Hold on a second. One of these things is not like the others. The Grenfell Tower disaster, in which at least 80 people died, was not a terrorist or malicious attack. It was the result of years of callous council decisions and underinvestment in social housing. On 14 June, entire families burned alive in their homes partly because, it is alleged, the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea would not pay the extra £5,000 or so for fire-resistant cladding. Nor could it find the cash, despite a budget surplus, to instal proper sprinkler systems on the rotting interior of the building.

Kensington and Chelsea is a Tory borough that, in cash terms, cares very little for poorer citizens who are unlikely to vote the right way. In 2014, while the Grenfell Tower residents were refused basic maintenance, the council handed out £100 rebates to its top-rate taxpayers, boasting of its record of “consistently delivering greater efficiencies while improving services”. Some of those efficiencies had names, and parents, and children.

This is a different sort of depravity altogether. It’s depravity with plausible deniability, right up until the point at which deniability goes up in flames. Borrowing from Friedrich Engels, John McDonnell described the Grenfell Tower disaster as “social murder”. The shadow chancellor and sometime Jack Russell of the parliamentary left has never been known for his delicate phrasing.

Naturally, the Tory press queued up to condemn McDonnell – not because he was wrong but because he was indiscreet. “There’s a long history in this country of the concept of social murder,” he said, “where decisions are made with no regard to the consequences… and as a result of that people have suffered.”

It is difficult to refute the reality of that suffering when the death toll is still being reckoned from the towering tombstone that now blights the west London skyline.” As the philosopher Hannah Arendt wrote, “The sad truth is that most evil is done by people who never make up their minds to be good or evil.”

Market austerity is no less brutal for being bloodless, calculating, an ideology of measuring human worth in pennies and making cuts that only indirectly slice into skin and bone. Redistributing large sums of money from the poor to the rich is not simply an abstract moral infraction: it kills. It shortens lives and blights millions more. Usually, it does so in a monstrously phlegmatic manner: the pensioners who die early of preventable diseases, the teenagers who drop out of education, the disabled people left to suffer the symptoms of physical and mental illness with nobody to care for them, the thousands who have died on the waiting lists for state benefits that they are perfectly entitled to, the parents whose pride disintegrates as they watch their children go to school hungry.

We are not encouraged to measure the human cost of austerity in this way, even though there are many people in back offices making exactly these sorts of calculations. This year, when researchers from the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine claimed that “relentless cuts” to the health service could explain as many as 30,000 “excess deaths” in England and Wales in 2015, the government denounced this as “a triumph of personal bias over research”, which, however you slice it, is a callous prep school debater’s response to the reality of 30,000 fresh graves.

There is a species of evil in which an individual allows the dark and yammering corners of his mind to direct him to put a blade in a bystander’s belly, or a bomb in a bustling crowd of teenage girls. That sort of monstrosity is as easy to identify as it is mercifully rare, though frighteningly less rare than it was in less febrile times. But there is another sort of evil that seldom makes the headlines. This comes about when someone sits down with a calculator and works out how much it will cost to protect and nurture human life, deducts that from the cost of a tax rebate for local landowners or a nice night at the opera, then comes up with a figure. It’s an ordinary sort of evil, and it has become routine and automated in the austerity years. It is a sort of evil, in the words of Terry Pratchett, that “begins when you begin to treat people as things”. 

The Grenfell Tower disaster was the hellish evidence of the consequences of fiscal ruthlessness that nobody could look away from. Claims that it could not have been predicted were shot down by the victims. The residents’ association wrote on its campaign website after years of begging the council to improve living conditions: “It is a truly terrifying thought but the Grenfell Action Group firmly believe that only a catastrophic event will expose the ineptitude and incompetence of our landlord.”

That catastrophic event has happened, and the ordinary British response to tragedy – brave, mannered dignity – is inappropriate. When the Grenfell inquiry launches next month, it is incumbent on every citizen to call for answers and to call this kind of travesty by its name: murder by numbers.

Laurie Penny is a contributing editor to the New Statesman. She is the author of five books, most recently Unspeakable Things.

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder