In politics, as in life, it helps to get your excuses in early. That presumably is why, ahead of tomorrow’s Budget, Keir Starmer has mounted a vanguard action in defence of his chancellor Rachel Reeves. ‘I’m acutely aware that women get much more abuse and criticism than men do and I think it’s about time we acknowledge that,’ he told broadcasters over the weekend.
Starmer was responding to earlier complaints from Reeves that she is the victim of patronising – and, even worse, male – armchair critics. ‘I’m sick of people mansplaining how to be chancellor to me,’ she told the Times, adding in a grumble about those nefarious ‘boys who now write newspaper columns’.
Throwing rocks at stupid boys is a lifelong habit for Reeves, who made much of being the first female chancellor, despite being preceded by three female Tory prime ministers. Clearly, her ascent felt like another rebuke to the posh boys who used to mock her chess skills, and continued to underestimate her and sister Ellie as they built careers in Westminster.
The Chancellor didn’t even need to be forgiven for wobbling markets by blubbing in the Commons
No doubt some women will be reading this and nodding knowingly, while also vicariously enjoying a victory for the girly swots. But speaking as a man, and indeed one who occasionally explains things in columns, I’m not convinced that the Chancellor has had it that hard, nor by Starmer’s claim that online brickbats are disproportionately hurled at the fairer sex.
The latter idea has been widely touted in recent years as politicians have railed against keyboard warriors. This is a class of people, you will recall, whose first instinct when David Amess MP was stabbed to death by a deranged Islamist was to discuss further restrictions on social media.
In fact, academic research into the differences in online abuse directed at men and women throws up mixed findings. While some researchers contend that women face more hostility online, one paper by the Alan Turing Institute reported that ‘men and women see harmful content online to a roughly similar extent’ – though women, as you might expect, are likelier to be subject to misogyny, cyberstalking and cyberflashing.
That same research uncovered a more profound difference that has gone largely unremarked on in Westminster discourse. As the paper continues: ‘Women are significantly more fearful of being targeted by harms overall, and report greater negative psychological impact as a result of particular experiences.’
Notwithstanding the unusual psychological profile of the average Westminster politician, it’s hardly a reach to think something similar applies here. Indeed, anyone with a commonsense understanding of the differences between men and women would expect that men would care less what online losers had to say about them.
Men probably care more about abuse directed at female colleagues than any verbal missiles directed their way, as evinced by a recent study from King’s College London. This presented participants with a pair of hypothetical online exchanges between citizens and politicians. As any layman shrink could have guessed, participants were 6 per cent likelier to perceive an interaction as more ‘toxic’ if the targeted politician was female.
Hence Sir Keir riding out as a white knight to save Lady Rachel from the monsterings of Fleet Street and the orcs of Silicon Valley. As a progressive and nice chap, Starmer probably is more offended by trolling against women, and even if he is sceptical that women have it worse, it would hardly be chivalrous to admit as much.
And yet while some residents of the ivory tower agree with me that social media is not especially hostile to female politicians, I’m doubtful how useful the generalisations are. After all, there is no objective academic test for how much robust feedback is warranted against a specific politician, and even less political consensus on the matter.
There was, for example, never a man so notoriously abused as Donald Trump, and yet you’d struggle to find a progressive who thinks the Orange Man has been sufficiently traduced. Much the same could be said of Nigel Farage, currently being castigated as a teenage racist in the pages of the Guardian. There aren’t enough milkshakes in Europe to satisfy the rage of his haters.
By comparison, Reeves has been treated softly by her critics. The Chancellor didn’t even need to be forgiven for wobbling markets by blubbing in the Commons, so few were those who felt comfortable criticising her in the first place. That’s the kind of privilege only a woman could enjoy: if a male chancellor was caught sobbing, the country would have to choose between Soviet amnesia or complete financial ruin.
That’s a prospect that may, of course, be a little too close for Reeves as she puts the finishing touches to the Budget ahead of tomorrow. But she can at least console herself that worse things have been etched on gravestones than ‘Rachel from accounts’.
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