Can you spot an ‘extreme misogynist’?

Can you tell the difference between an extreme misogynist and a moderate misogynist? Hating women has always seemed, to me anyway, a rather extreme position on its own. The label ‘extreme misogynist’ is surely repetitive. A moderate misogynist is an oxymoron.

But then the Home Office announced this week that ‘extreme misogyny’ could be added to the list of ideologies the government monitors to tackle terrorism. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out how the police would tell the extremists from the moderates. Does the extreme misogynist hold women in contempt all week long, while the moderate reserves his disdain for weekends? Does a mild misogynist simply begrudge us having the right to vote, rather than campaign to take it away?

As tempting as it is to throw the Twitter troll on the list with terrorists, it’ll do no one any good

It’s easy to understand why Home Office ministers are in a do-something mood. Look below tweets by Yvette Cooper or Jess Phillips and you will find some of the nastiest comments imaginable. It is the ugly reality for any woman in the public eye in the age of social media. The comments roll in, thousands at a time. ‘John’, age 62, usually has a profile that says he loves his country and is the proud grandad to three girls. He also hopes I rot in hell, dumb bitch, where I’ll learn to shut up and make Satan his supper.

No one likes ‘John’, or the countless others like him who make a hobby out of tweeting vile things at women. But there are good reasons why we defend the ugly speech that sits between free and friendly speech and threats of violence. One of them is that it’s simply impossible to choose who is going to decide what opinions are on the right side of the line. Is it not a huge win for the majority of misogynists if there’s a legal distinction between the good ones and the bad ones?

A classification for ‘extreme misogyny’ is unlikely to help address the problems women and girls face in the UK. It’s not going to convince the grooming gangs to disband or improve the treatment of female refugees at the Yarl’s Wood detention centre (a scandal Cooper has successfully exposed over the years). It’s far more likely to lead to rows over whether J.D. Vance’s comments about childless cat ladies should prohibit him from state visits were he to become vice president. It’s a ludicrous proposition – yet hardly unimaginable. More than one million people signed a petition in 2017 to say Donald Trump should not be allowed into the UK for his unsavoury comments. The new Foreign Secretary, David Lammy, joined London’s protest against the ‘woman-hating’ president when he made his first state visit.

It doesn’t help that accusations of ‘sexism’ and ‘misogyny’ have lost much of their meaning, having become so overused in our political discourse that nearly everyone has been given the label. Former Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney was branded a sexist for talking about the ‘binders full of women’ he wanted to hire into the White House. Democrats were shocked to discover that accusations of misogyny didn’t stick to Trump, after wolf had been cried one too many times. Attempts to give any serious critique of the Democratic presidential nominee Kamala Harris are quickly met with accusations of sexism and racism.

It’s not only men who get accused. Years back, one Labour MP told me I was doing ‘the patriarchy’s job’ when I broke down the latest gender pay-gap figures and pointed out that if you factor in job, age and education, the so-called ‘pay gap’ largely disappears. Now I wonder: by disclosing the successes of working women, was I guilty of upholding the patriarchy, or the extreme patriarchy?

I suspect we’re not lacking in speech laws or bespoke definitions. What’s been hollowed out is accountability. Social media has become a hinterland for some people with ugly instincts. The abuse is relentless, but few call them out. Those on the sidelines stay largely silent, hoping to avoid getting dragged through the comments too.

I was slightly thrown years back when, live on Question Time, David Dimbleby addressed the ‘disgusting, loathsome’ comments I was receiving before I even appeared on the show. I didn’t fully clock what he was doing at the time, and powered on, defending their right to tweet rude things at me. I maintain that sentiment, but I now think of it as one of the kindest professional acts anyone has ever done for me.

It’s not just Twitter trolls who have the misogynistic streak. Women who have spent any time in the dating pool are keenly aware that the men who disrespect women the most are often the ones who claim to adore them. There’s no bigger red flag than a self-proclaimed male ‘ally’. Years ago, a friend who loved to boast about the respect he had for women explained that his serial cheating was a consequence of ‘being monogamous with the female spirit’. We all laughed, which in part explains why the pattern continued.

A girlfriend of mine proposes a different kind of tribunal system: where a judge hears out the case of ex-partners and rules on instances of misogyny (and misandry). Anyone with enough rulings against their name ends up on a database, where future prospects can look them up and see their bad behaviour on display. I’ve pointed out many times the horrifying privacy implications
of such a system. Still, I have no doubt that this is her billion-dollar idea.

I think we’re looking for a court of some kind, to confirm definitively that misogyny is at play and women, sometimes, get treated like dirt. This should be the court of public opinion. As tempting as it is to throw the Twitter troll on the list with terrorists, it’ll do no one any good. ‘John’ – aged 62, grandad of three – has not been radicalised. He’s a jerk who is picking on, let’s be honest, the stronger sex. He needs a healthy dose of social shunning. He doesn’t need Prevent.