Research from the mayor of London’s office suggests that there is a latent desire among a majority of men to intervene when they witness misogynistic behaviour. Two in three men wish to step in but do not feel that they have the language or tools to take action, according to the study. That there are some men who would welcome an opportunity to develop best practice around intervention is worth taking in good faith – addressing a lack of accountability among male social groups should certainly figure within broader strategies to prevent violence against women and girls.
The repeated failure of men who genuinely abhor misogyny to speak up and intervene, whether when overhearing casual sexist comments or witnessing sexual harassment, can be attributed to many things: herd mentality, discomfort, fear of backlash or ostracisation, or simply not knowing what to say. It is not necessarily a complex issue – you’d be forgiven for having zero patience for men who are bystanders – but it is one that requires careful engagement and a strategy that poses serious cultural challenges to male socialisation. Does the mayor of London truly believe that “Maaate” is that challenge, or a sufficient solution?
“Maaate” is proposed as the word men should use following the mayor’s Have a Word campaign to encourage men to intervene when a friend’s behaviour towards women goes “too far”. The campaign is described as taking a “public health approach” to the issue of male misogyny, which is certainly the right one – it recognises the collective responsibility of men to address misogynistic behaviour and advocates for responses rooted in community. But that it has culminated in a “call to action” with the jokey register of an Oatly or Innocent smoothie ad means that the campaign is struggling to find enthusiastic support even among those who take the issue of misogyny seriously.
Much of the online consensus is that the campaign is “cringe” but I don’t think this is necessarily the problem – a campaign can be cringey but effective so long as it is memorable and its messaging and takeaways are clear enough. The problem is that in setting such a low expectation on intervention strategies the campaign becomes counterproductive. “Maaate” is supposed to draw on the existing language of male friendship, a way to socially nudge your friend “without making things awkward, ruining the moment or putting your friendship at risk”. This doesn’t feel like a realistic forecast for how things will play out in real time. Why not lean in to the fact that such confrontations can and will be “awkward”, they may indeed “ruin the moment” and that a breakdown in friendship is a very real social consequence for misogynistic behaviour? Are we to believe that resolving misogyny is a matter of low stakes, conflict-free nudges entirely devoid of discomfort, tension or consequence?
The mayor’s research suggests that shame is not an effective strategy for tackling misogynistic behaviour, but does that mean the answer is coddling language and protecting feelings first? Surely there is space to express the embarrassment, anger and disappointment that a friend’s misogyny can cause without this being shied away from or reduced to shaming. Calling out misogynistic behaviour will probably lead to conflict and pushback no matter how friendly the terms it is couched in, so where is the guidance for conflict resolution or how to stand your ground if the problem is a broader group rather than one individual? Are we to have faith in these make-believe scenarios where one man’s sexism is cured by a quick word and a fist bump? And can we really expect the same matey register of response to be applied to a man who, say, makes a joke about “women drivers” or one who is physically sexually harassing a woman?
The patronising nature of this campaign is indicative of broader problems with popular public discourse around men – that they are often addressed as if they lack any sophisticated interiority and can only respond if spoken to like helpless children in need of gentle instruction. Caitlin Moran’s new book What About Men? is in this vein, with its claims that men forgo the “rough yet necessary grassland of sadness, worry and disclosure” in preference for the shallow but “delightful” “male chat”.
I wonder which kind of stereotyped man such an approach targets and which kind of man it misses. Indeed, there is a stock masculinity character assumption inherent in the language of “Maaate”: you imagine a group of lads who might be down the pub, or playing video games, or working on a building site; perhaps they are catcalling or making misogynistic jokes. The author Rachel Connolly tells me that the focus on “lewd behaviour” in such campaigns overlooks the more casual ways women are degraded and dehumanised, particularly within professional networks. The prevalence of workplace sexual harassment further throws into relief how much this campaign oversimplifies the reality of intervention and the power dynamics often present between men. If you witness a senior colleague, or your boss, behaving in a misogynistic way towards women, can the workplace culture confidently be addressed with “Maaate”?
Some seem to take a view of extremes – that men will either completely ignore each other’s bad behaviour, or go too far the other way and physically fight each other – but the middle ground is not only found through soft nudging. There is of course no uniform approach to intervening when you witness a man, friend, colleague or otherwise exhibiting misogynistic behaviour – but the reality is that it is rarely going to be possible to smooth over the issue with a simple “Maaate”, and that sometimes a more full-throated and bold confrontation will be necessary. Surely, in the fight against misogyny, experiencing some discomfort is the least that can be asked of us.
Jason Okundaye is a London-based writer and author of Revolutionary Acts: Black Gay Men in Britain
