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A Tory leadership race between two women is not a feminist revolution

I have spent the day being told I should be pleased that the future leader of my country will be female. This is the feminist revolution in the same way that the Charge of the Light Brigade was a military triumph.

The next prime minister of Britain will be a woman. She will not be elected by the people. She will be one of two candidates left over after all the men running for Tory leader backstabbed and blustered themselves out of the running. Neither Andrea Leadsom nor Theresa May are the figureheads anyone with a scrap of interest in women’s freedom would choose, presuming we got a say, which we don’t.  Nonetheless, I have spent the entire day being told that I should be pleased at the fact that the future leader of my country will be a female person. This is the feminist revolution in the same way that the Charge of the Light Brigade was a military triumph.

In times of upheaval, women are invariably called on to clear up the mess the men have made. As the greatest political crisis in recent memory continues to roll over Britain, and leader after craven wannabe leader abdicates responsibility for the fallout, I find myself recalling Mrs Lintott’s declaration in Alan Bennett’s History Boys. “History,” she says, “is a commentary on the various and continuing incapabilities of men. What is history? History is women following behind – with the bucket.”

Following the ugly implosion of both major parties, it now seems that female politicians may be left to tidy up the wreckage – and they will need an awfully big bucket. We are now facing the very real prospect of a female prime minister facing down a female leader of the opposition. The Scottish National Party is already led by Nicola Sturgeon, the only apparent adult in top office across the entire United Kingdom. In four months, a female prime minister might be calling Hillary Clinton to congratulate her on her election as the first female president of the world’s only superpower.

Let’s not bring out the bunting just yet. Men still outnumber women in parliament by a ratio of more than two to one. Unless you truly believe that men are twice as capable as women, this seems insufficient. The fact that the leaders and deputy leaders of both major parties in the disintegrating sandcastle of British politics are men has not been deemed worthy of comment, of course. And nor has the fact that both the Leave and Remain campaigns were fronted by overgrown schoolboys prepared to rip up the fabric of civil society to beat their playground rivals.

One of the perks of being a man in politics – one of the perks of being a man in general – is never having to answer the “gender question”. Nobody is asking if there is something about men in politics that makes them unfit for power, as many of our current leaders clearly are.

Female politicians certainly appear to have more resilience than men. No woman goes into politics for an easy ride. Female MPs, ministers and lawmakers of all stripes face down harassment and threats. Women still have to answer for their entire sex in a way that men are never expected to. If women had been in charge of this EU fiasco, I guarantee you that we would now be recommending the removal of the female franchise and rehearsing jokes about how women can’t steer a car, much less a country.

Can female politicians do a better job of fixing this mess than men? The only reason we’re asking that is that they’ve never been given the chance. On the one hand, they could hardly do worse; on the other, the mess is monumental, and whoever is in charge of the long, uncertain slog back to stability will doubtless face precisely the public opprobrium that both David Cameron and Boris Johnson have proven too cowardly to contemplate, with some additional press commentary on their shoes, haircuts and outfit choices to distract us all from the collapse of civil society. I can hardly wait.

The truth is that women are not, in fact, magic. Women are, in fact, people, and people who happen to be female are no less complicated and unpredictable than those who happen to be male. Women have just as much capacity to be venal, petty and egomaniacal as men do, although they are less likely to be indulged in such behaviour. Women have just as much potential for crashing incompetence as men, although female mediocrity is far less frequently rewarded with jobs in government. The country has yet to recover from Margaret Thatcher’s manicured massacre of our social fabric and yet we have somehow already forgotten that The Man can be a woman.

The fact of being female does not mean a leader will deliver for women. Neither of the remaining Tory candidates seems poised to turn parliament into a knitting circle. Theresa May has a staggeringly right-wing record on immigration, has been involve in the deportation of refugee women fleeing rape and violence, and voted to cut abortion rights. Andrea Leadsom is a right-wing religious fanatic who did not vote for gay marriage. Both of them have stood up for welfare cuts that will hit women hardest. No woman, however powerful, can escape sexism, but Leadsom  in particular seems ready to use it to her advantage: in a typical newspaper interview, she described the delicious Sunday roasts she makes for her family, positioning herself as the sort of mother of the nation we might run to after having messed our pants in public. That sort of power play is many things, but it is not feminism.

In the midst of this panicked pound-shop Thatcher tribute band contest, one thing is clear. Whoever is running the world come November, it is women as a whole who will be left holding the bucket. As the economic and civil consequences of Brexit unfold, it is women who will be expected to do the emotional and practical work to keep families and communities functioning, just as they have done through six years of austerity. Women have filled the gap in public services with free and voluntary labour. Women have already been hardest hit by public-sector job cuts, just as they are already over-represented among the low-paid, precarious workers who suffered most in the last recession. Women will be expected to pay for the mistakes of men in power, and to do so thanklessly and for free, without making a fuss. (I could not help but notice that almost all of my acquaintances on the left who argued for Brexit on the basis that more pain now would lead to revolution later were male. The theory that social collapse is to be welcomed as a precursor to a people’s uprising is wearily typical of masculine leftist posturing, assuming as it does that women will be around to set the bones, sew up the wounds and sweep up the debris if the uprising fails to fall out as planned.)

It remains to be seen if the situation for women throughout the country will be made any better by women in Westminster. Poor and vulnerable men, after all, have not historically been guaranteed a good deal just because they shared a gender with their political leaders. Gender equality, like wealth, tends not to trickle down. It will be interesting to see what the world looks like with more women in top roles, but women aren’t enchanted beings who bring light and harmony to politics by wafting fragrantly through the corridors of power. Women are just people. Sometimes people beat each other down, and sometimes people sell each other out, particularly when a bit of power is on the table. Real equality will only be possible when we realise that. 

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 07 July 2016 issue of the New Statesman, The Brexit bunglers

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Grenfell shows the left behind have lost trust in the media – we need a proper watchdog

An effective regulator would help curb the excesses of a press that has failed the disenfranchised.

First there were attacks on Westminster, London Bridge and Manchester, before the horror of the Grenfell Tower fire. There were also so-called “retaliatory” attacks on innocent Muslims, such as that in Finsbury Park. The impact of this series of tragedies on the country’s cohesion cannot be overstated.

Add to this a sense of deep national anxiety, laid bare in a warning last week from the Social Mobility Commission that “without radical and urgent reform, the social and economic divisions in British society will widen even further, threatening community cohesion and economic prosperity.”

The reason for this crisis? A failure to translate political concerns into social action, a widening gap between rich and poor – and crucially, a loss of faith in the country’s core institutions, including the media.

As journalists who have borne witness to the now critical erosion of trust in the mainstream media – alongside the not unrelated deterioration in the standards of reporting on certain minority groups – we feel things are reaching a breaking point.

Trust in the British government, which was already low at 36 per cent at the start of last year, fell to 26 per cent by the beginning of 2017. The UK now ranks as a “flawed democracy”. Meanwhile, trust in the media fell from 36 per cent in 2016 to 24 per cent. Less than a quarter of Britons trust our industry.

With the rise of fake news, vlogging and social media, a growing portion of the public is tuning out mainstream media outlets. In many cases, consumers no longer believe in the media’s responsibility to hold itself and others to account.

There was a time, as journalists, when we would argue back. The media is the government’s watchdog, we would say. We are in this to tell the stories of those who can’t get their voices heard. We want to highlight corruption and inequality. But these days, it’s harder to believe our own words.

The truth is, the media increasingly looks and sounds like the bubble of the liberal elite, as it is so often tarred.

What accountability is there when a man who cosies up to the very political powers his outlets are meant to keep in check controls huge swathes of the media? Just last month, Rupert Murdoch’s sons held secret talks with the communications regulator Ofcom in a bid to persuade it to approve Fox’s planned £11.7bn buyout of the 61 per cent of Sky it does not already own.

Alongside this expanding monopoly, we’ve witnessed the death of local news, meaning the stories of regular folk no longer receive the platform they should. A powerful elite grows its media influence, while the many struggle to get their concerns heard in a local paper.

These days, when you go to marginalised communities for their voice, it’s easy to understand their reluctance to speak to the media – the same media which labels their immigrant parents “cockroaches”, their jobless friends “scroungers”, their young men “hoodlums”?

If you’re wondering why there are so many conspiracy theories about the underlying causes of the Grenfell fire, or what has happened in its aftermath, it’s because many working-class communities no longer believe that the media is even interested in asking the questions which matter to them.

It was clear to anyone on the ground in the area that the mainstream media was not welcome, as they were not seen as holding those responsible to account. As one man pointed out to us: “Some boys around here have done time for a lot less than killing 79 people – who’s going to jail for this?” We wish we had the answer.

The truth is, our industry is complicit in an accountability vacuum that ignored years of concern expressed by residents in the wealthiest borough in the country over their homes literally being firetraps. To say residents were abandoned by the state is to say too little – they were and continue to be ignored by their elected councillors, unworthy of basic interaction with the elected Prime Minister, and largely viewed with disdain by a media just hankering over a riot story which can convert public sympathy into the more usual contempt dished out to inner city folk.

For those who have no faith in official sources of information, conspiracy theories are the only truths. And frankly, can you blame them?

The sight of handwritten missing notes in plastic sleeves plastered on lamp posts – as if families were searching for their lost cats – is a visual representation of utter neglect. No government to lean on, no media to highlight their reality. This is the alternative space an increasing number of people now inhabit.

Conspiracy theories reflect the fears of those who don’t believe there is a watchdog willing to speak truth to power and ask how many bodies were (are?) actually in Grenfell? How many survived, or were ordinarily resident in the block? Who is asking the right questions to the authorities on behalf of those whose family members and friends are missing? Where are the stories of the homeless victims, who we know haven’t come forward, due to their immigration status?

The truth is, sometimes reality is actually scarier than “conspiracy theories”. And sometimes conspiracy theories reflect the alternative narrative, fuelled by unheard truths. Marginalised communities see a stark contrast between their experience and the media’s divisive language – and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

From national radio show hosts being given a platform to spew hate and demonise minorities, to former EDL leaders invited on Good Morning Britain only to, in the words of the host, “stir up hatred” against Muslims, to commentators who have made it their profession to use insidious rhetoric designed to cast suspicion over anyone who identifies as an immigrant or worse, a refugee. These words have real-world consequences for the safety of those whose voices are so often left out of the narrative.

There has never been a more pressing time to consider how to restore trust in the media’s practices – a review, dare we say it, of our ethics and standards as journalists.

And yet, in the face of such a crisis of trust in public institutions, last month the government announced that the second part of the Leveson Inquiry (the first part having cost £5.4m, resulting in essentially nothing new) earmarked to examine the culture, practices and ethics of the press, has been abandoned.

Despite their claimed association with gagging free speech, media guidelines have, in the past, offered some pretty valuable lessons on how better to report on sensitive subjects, including when it comes to marginal identities.

One such example is how the PCC (press regulator Ipso’s predecessor) sought to influence the way newspapers cover the transgender community. It asked journalists to consider whether an individual’s transgender status was genuinely relevant to the newsworthiness of a story, also encouraging the use of pronouns that the person would use to describe themselves. Why is such consideration not offered to other misrepresented groups?

For all the journalists expressing sympathy with distorted portrayals of marginalised groups, now is the time to stand up and be counted. Sympathy is cheap. What we need is a watchdog which can ensure the worst strands of xenophobia, racism and prejudice aren’t given a platform to spew hate.

Keep the free speech tears for when we’re not counting bodies and acid attack victims. It’s time we addressed the deepening inequality in this country, currently entrenched by an all-too-often self-indulgent media bubble. That would be a first step towards regaining the trust of those who feel the media doesn't speak to or for them.

Salah-Aldeen Khadr is a journalist, filmmaker and media anthropologist. Myriam Francois is a journalist and academic at the SOAS Centre for Islamic Studies.

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