by Nick Cox
We seem to have come to a bit of an impasse.
I am referring here to two debates that swirled around Princeton recently: the beaten-to-death Tory article “Reflections on Manliness,” and the endlessly recurring argument between the Anscombe Society and its detractors, whose latest episode appeared in today’s Prince. The debate, like most debates, has ossified into two completely immobile camps, who are as unwilling to question their own beliefs as they are intent on finally winning over the other side, or at least forcing them to give some ground. In other words, the debates have long since ceased to be actual debates—this much is obvious. It is not even necessarily a bad thing: surely there is something to be said for standing faithfully by one’s beliefs, if those beliefs are informed by the principles of equality and progressivism that feminists share.
Tonight, however, while I was perusing our opponents’ arguments, I noticed something a bit troubling: neither Anscombe’s articles nor the “Reflections on Manliness” are completely indefensible—they actually have a few decent points. Brandon McGinley’s conclusion, in which he advocates a return to homophobia, is of course totally absurd, as are nearly all of the leaps of logic his article makes. He is kind of right, though, when he writes about the ambiguities with which male friendships are often fraught these days, along with the state of masculinity in general, as Tom Dollar’s post explained so well. And the Prince article “A call for consistency”—incidentally, also written by McGinley—which was the impetus for the most recent wave of anti-Anscombe railing, also had a rational kernel. McGinley’s call for his opponents to produce a “comprehensive sexual ethic” may have been silly, but it also raises a serious issue: the fact that, without a comprehensive sexual ethic, many who do not subscribe to the “moral traditionalist” view do experience a lot of confusion and ambivalence—the almost proverbial awkwardness of hookups is just one symptom of this problem.
Both solutions that McGinley provides to the problems he addresses are not only politically detestable and practically unfeasible—they are actually more or less incoherent. His prescription of homophobia as a cure for a syndrome that is itself little more than homophobia makes no sense, and his (admittedly rhetorical) demand that those of us who are not moral traditionalists, and therefore not bound by a “comprehensive sexual ethic,” should nonetheless create one is equally absurd. But the problems are still real problems, and it would be a good idea for us to address them ourselves. There is a crisis in masculinity today, regardless of whether or not homophobia is a factor; and the lack of a comprehensive sexual ethic does often leave people feeling lost and confused.
The main reason McGinley’s prescriptions make no sense is that time only flows in one direction: once a progressive social change takes root, it is impossible to reverse it. The fact that the Anscombe Society needs a “comprehensive sex ethic,” instead of merely appealing to tradition, means that they have already lost the battle that they continue to fight so tenaciously. What are we to do, though, about the problems that arise as a necessary consequence of progressive social change? No matter what McGinley might say, we could not simply get rid of the changes and go back to the “good old days” even if we wanted to—the universe just doesn’t work like that. But neither should we make like these problems do not exist. We have to come to terms with the fact that progress always inescapably brings problems along with it, and if we are true to our beliefs then we must acknowledge these problems and bring them into the open instead of trying to sweep them under the rug.
This brings to mind another problem, which has troubled my mind considerably in the past few weeks. The notion that there is some “innate” difference between women and men has become systemically indefensible, even if biologically there is some obvious truth to it. Nowadays it is usually mobilized in defense of the worst kind of reactionary anti-feminism, in order to give it a spurious semblance of objectivity. The problem, however, is this: the idea that women are equal to men, and should be treated as such in society, often undergoes some problematic distortions in its journey from theory to reality. All too often, “women are equal to men” translates to “women must be like men.” The world that women, thanks to feminism, are able to participate in is a world that was built by men, and is therefore marked with the patriarchal domination that feminists have sought to escape since the beginning—what they have won for themselves, among other things, is the privilege of participating in this domination instead of merely being its victims. But again, we cannot solve this problem by going back to the “good old days,” when women stayed at home and men worked—it doesn’t work like that. By that token, we also can’t go back to the matriarchal societies that existed before the beginning of civilization. There is no easy solution to this problem—all we can do is remain aware of the complexities and contradictions that arise as we progress toward a better and more just society.
