Abstract
Many female members of the UK parliament are standing down as the level of abuse they receive rises.
At the time of writing, as we enter the final stages of a UK general election that follows three years of bitter political fighting, the attempts to silence women who enter that fray have come once again into sharp focus. The “art of rhetoric” that Wilson wrote of in 1560 seems, in 2019, to consist mainly of personal attacks, and the verbal attacks on women are often the most vicious.
Letter sent to Stella Creasy, currently standing to be a Labour MP
CREDIT: Toby Melville/Reuters
MP after MP has talked about the almost daily slew of violent threats they receive via social media: threats of rape, threats of violence towards their families, death threats. Ahead of this election campaign, 20 female MPs announced they would be standing down, and many cited the abuse they received as a reason for doing so. One of them was Nicky Morgan, a member of the cabinet, who referred to the impact on her family and “the other sacrifices involved in and the abuse for doing the job of a modern MP”.
Diane Abbott, who is currently standing for re-election, is a particular target for abuse. “It’s the volume of it which makes it so debilitating, so corrosive and so upsetting. It’s the sheer volume. And the sheer level of hatred that people are showing,” she told Amnesty researchers studying abuse faced by female politicians during the last general election. Abbott received death threats and rape threats on a daily basis. In the six weeks leading up to 8 June 2017, the date of that election, Amnesty found that Abbott was the victim of 45% of all abusive tweets sent to female MPs. She received 4,512 of these tweets, and because deleted tweets or messages sent from accounts that had subsequently been suspended were not counted, the true figure could be much higher.
And the abuse doesn’t take place only online, although that is where it is most prevalent.
Stella Creasy, who is a campaigner on abortion law and is standing to be a Labour London MP as we go to press, was met by billboard posters in her London constituency showing foetuses and the words “Stop Stella” splashed across them. While the advertisers argued they had every right to highlight – and object to – a politician’s political stance, “Stop Stella” can take on an ominous secondary meaning in this febrile atmosphere.
A man also tried to smash the office window of Labour MP, Jess Phillips, shouting “fascist”.
Only three years ago, a female MP, Jo Cox, was murdered on the streets of her West Yorkshire constituency during a referendum campaign, so MPs have every justification for feeling nervous as they canvas for votes in the dark in this election period.
Since Cox’s death, many have made changes to their lives. Abbott told Grazia magazine: “I used to go everywhere on my own; now my staff make an effort to accompany me to places where I didn’t require a chaperone before.”
Faced with a relentless onslaught of credible threats – not to mention the personal, “lower level” of abuse that is regularly dished out – it is hardly surprising that many choose to pull back from public life altogether. My own MP, Heidi Allen, said she would not contest the December 2019 election, writing in her resignation speech that she was “exhausted by the invasion into [her] privacy and the nastiness and intimidation that has become commonplace”.
It is not just MPs who face this daily level of aggression. Other high-profile figures – including journalists – are targeted for regular abuse. Indian journalist Rana Ayyub receives death and rape threats following her investigation into riots that killed at least 1,000 people in 2002 and in which Narendra Modi, the current prime minister, was accused of complicity. Her social media accounts and phone have been inundated with messages urging people to gang-rape her. Her phone number and address were posted online.
A service commemorating murdered MP Jo Cox
Ayyub continues to report. But for many others, such abuse is impossible to stomach. The result is the withdrawing from public life of vital voices, and that is hugely damaging for democracy. Without voices, we lose power, and that leads to political (and other) decisions being made that negatively impact the voiceless and entrench existing power structures.
The two options we seem to be presented with as solutions are no answers at all. The first suggests that those who choose careers in public life should simply grow a thicker skin or – as one participant at a conference on this issue once memorably told me – learn to SITFU (“suck it the fuck up”). This is easier said than done, especially if you’re the one on the receiving end of violent and credible threats to your personal safety and that of your loved ones.
But neither is banning all hateful speech an answer, not least because “hateful speech” has a tendency to incorporate ever widening definitions that rapidly scoop up what is generally considered to be lawful and legitimate speech.
So what should be done? Well, first let’s enforce the laws we already have. In the UK, as in most countries, there are plenty of laws that deal with threats of violence, yet few reports of such threats end in conviction. Focusing energy on dealing with those individuals who directly threaten violence – a far smaller proportion than those who engage in legal but distasteful speech – is a far better use of resources, including police resources, than attempting to net an ever-widening shoal of speech. The imprisoning of the men involved in a plot to kill MP Rosie Cooper is an example of how these laws can be used to prosecute and protect.
Email sent to Jess Phillips, currently standing to be a Labour MP
Secondly, we need to be better allies. When we see people targeted with abusive speech, we should speak up in their defence. Abusers try to silence their opponents by isolating them. Standing with people targeted and threatened for their opinions – even when you disagree with those opinions – shows they are not alone.
Finally, we should start taking responsibility for how we engage with others, and remembering that all those who engage in public are human beings. Civic discourse doesn’t have to be civil – and often it absolutely should not be – but it should never involve threats of violence.