The increasing number of accusations of sexual harassment or assault by famous actors and producers in Hollywood—the latest is Kevin Spacey—carries two lessons: the practice is far more prevalent than many believed (and I’m one of those who had no idea), and if a powerful man does it once, they’ve probably done it before (viz., Bill Cosby). I was going to write about Kevin Spacey this morning, and in particular Brendan O’Neill’s defense of him in Spiked, “Kevin Spacey is innocent” (what he means is that Spacey’s “not guilty beyond a reasonable doubt”, since Spacey was accused of fondling an underaged boy, but it was 30 years ago and Spacey doesn’t remember it)—but then I woke up this morning to read that Spacey has been accused by at least eight more people of inappropriate behavior on his “House of Cards” television show:
All of those involved described Spacey’s behaviour as “predatory”. It allegedly included non-consensual touching and inappropriate sexual comments, with the actor typically targeting young, male members of the production crew.
Well, these are neither rape nor pedophilia, but they’re inappropriate, probably prompted by a power relationship, and may be illegal, as they create a climate of harassment in the workplace.
That is, if the allegations are true.
What’s happening now, and what I want readers to discuss, is that many people’s lives are being overturned by accusations that can’t be proven—accusations that wouldn’t stand up in a court where the standard of conviction is “guilty beyond a reasonable doubt”. An accusation in the present climate is tantamount to a conviction, even if the accused denies it.
Now in many cases they don’t deny it: they admit it and apologize, which is the right thing to do if you’re really guilty. In other cases in which the accused doesn’t admit anything, or says that the sex is consensual, the accusations gain credibility as the number of accusers mounts and their stories comport. That’s the situation of Harvey Weinstein, who in my view was an odious sexual predator and, most likely, a rapist. (New York is investigating the possibility of rape charges.) But what if there are only one or two accusers? Is the word of a single person, contested by the accused, nevertheless sufficient to demonize someone and ruin their career?
Aside from the power relationships involving someone like Weinstein, these situations—the one-offs—resemble accusations of sexual harassment or assault made in American colleges, nearly all by women against men. When I asked readers how the accused should be judged in those cases, readers here voted this way:
The lesson was that college judiciary bodies shouldn’t be trusted to adjudicate these cases, which could result in expulsion and a permanent black mark on an accused student’s record. They should, said 82% of readers, be adjudicated first by the courts, which use the “reasonable doubt” standard. If you can’t trust college judicial bodies to do it, why trust the “court of public opinion”: the media and social media folks who take accusations for convictions?
Okay, now what about a student who has not one but two accusations? Do you feel the same way: no punishment without solid proof? I suspect many of you do.
This is the situation that many Hollywood figures are in, and that’s what Brendan O’Neill wrote about. Before I give a few quotes from his piece, let me emphasize that I’m not trying to exculpate sexual harassers and predators. I am not a woman, but I’ve heard enough of them tell me (one yesterday who lives in Los Angeles) about the lifelong harassment they’ve endured: groping, creepy remarks, penises being exposed, and so on. When it’s done in a power relationship, it’s doubly bad because it’s extra coercive. I’m also aware that some studies show that the bulk of such accusations are true. But we can’t use that when judging a single person, just as we can’t use the statement (made to me by a public defender) that “85% of my clients are almost certainly guilty” to go ahead and convict all accused people without a trial.
Nevertheless, let’s go back a day and assume that Kevin Spacey (like some figures) had only one accusation against him, with no proof. There’s nothing wrong with going public with accusations against him or similar people, but do we automatically say “guilty” and throw him out of the industry? O’Neill says no (we’ll ignore Spacey’s excoriation for also saying, in his statement, that he was gay, which some say was the wrong way to “come out”). An excerpt from O’Neill’s piece:
Why does everyone believe Kevin Spacey’s accuser rather than Kevin Spacey himself? In a civilised society, it would be the other way round. In a civilised society we would doubt the accuser and maintain the innocence of the accused. But increasingly we do not live in a civilised society. As demonstrated by the hysteria of the Harvey Weinstein scandal and the increasingly strange and narcissistic #metoo contagion, we live in a society where accusation is now proof. Where accusation alone can colour someone’s reputation beyond repair. I fear we haven’t yet registered how worrying, and terrifying, this state of affairs is.
No sooner had Star Trek: Discovery actor Anthony Rapp claimed that Spacey made a ‘sexual advance’ towards him in 1986, when Rapp was 14 years old, than the internet was aflame with whispers and chatter about Spacey being a paedophile. Everyone, it seems, believes Rapp, and they want the world to know they believe Rapp. ‘I believe him’, people are tweeting. ‘Of COURSE we believe you’, says civil-rights activist — read professional tweeter — Danielle Muscato. One political comedian says we need to use the right term for ‘what he did’ — it was ‘child molestation’. ‘What he did’. The arrogance. The mob thinking. How do we know Spacey did this thing? Because one person said he did. If we had any kind of attachment to the ideals of reason and justice, the building blocks of civilisation, this wouldn’t be enough. It would be so far from being enough.
Spacey says he doesn’t remember the assault. ‘I honestly do not remember the encounter’, he said in a statement, before going on to say that if it did happen, then he’s sorry. (Who’s advising these people? Do not apologise for something you do not remember doing.) Spacey, in his own lame way, is calling into question the veracity of Rapp’s accusation. And you know what? We should all be doing that. For three reasons.
First, because the alleged incident took place 31 years ago. Thatcher and Reagan were in power. Mark Zuckerberg was two years old. Boy George joined The A-Team. It is entirely feasible — likely, in fact — that Mr Rapp misremembers what happened that long ago. We all have foggy memories of decades-old events. Secondly, because Mr Rapp has made his accusation as part of the #metoo phenomenon, which may well have coloured how he sees that alleged event that is a third-of-a-century old. As part of #metoo, individuals can fast-track themselves to a position of moral and cultural authority through claiming to have been victims of celebrity abuse. Can we agree that this attractive prospect, this promise of cultural cachet, might — only might — have influenced both Mr Rapp’s recollection of what happened and his decision to accuse now? And thirdly because this is what we are meant to do. We are meant to believe in the innocence of everyone accused of a crime or misdemeanour, until such a time as a jury of their peers has been convinced beyond reasonable doubt that this is ‘what he did’.
We are meant to side with the accused. It is the civilised thing to do: side with the accused. We are meant to insist upon his or her innocence until guilt has been properly and convincingly established. But today the Twitterati, the media, the feminist set and increasingly the political class — see the jumped-up, ‘me too!’ sex-harassment panic now brewing in the House of Commons — line up with accusers. . .
Well, you get the point, though O’Neill’s argument has lost considerable force due to the new accusations against Spacey. In the courts, people walk away free from punishment if the allegation can’t be proven. (That, of course, doesn’t mean free from criticism, as evidenced by the decline in O.J. Simpson’s reputation after he was found not guilty of murder.). But are we supposed to fire someone, demonize them, and remove their honors and livelihood when they’re accused of sexual malfeasance—and it hasn’t been definitively established? Or, if you use the word of people as this kind of proof, how many people does it take to accuse someone before they’re not just seen as guilty by the public, but deserve punishment for what they’re accused of?
The trope “always believe the accuser” may usually lead to accurate beliefs, but as we know from individual cases, not ones that are 100% accurate. (Estimates of false reports of sexual assaults appear to be between 2% and 10%.) And so long as there is some doubt, should we consider someone guilty when they’re simply accused?
But weigh against that the likelihood that even if false reports are low, most cases involving simply hearsay wouldn’t even make it to trial, so many guilty people would walk away free. And sexual predation seems to be something that’s notoriously difficult to “cure” by psychological treatment, so if unpunished it will persist—and grow.
These are just some thoughts.
Let me know your thoughts, and do remember that I’ve listed several factors that, to my mind, make accusations more credible. If you have solutions to the pervasive problem of sexual harassment and assault, given that many aren’t reported and there is no proof for many, put it below.

























