4.5 stars
In discussion with Ramin Jahanbegloo, published as Conversations with Isaiah Berlin, Berlin does the hard work of defining equality: "Equality is always specific. Let me give an instance, if you have ten children, and you want to give each a piece of cake, if you give one child two slices and the next child none, for no good reason, this offends against the principle of equality. That is what 'unfair' means." The failure, then, of liberal feminism is transparently clear: some have two slices, some have none; some have the money to pay for an abortion, some do not; some have shelter, even homes, some do not; some have food, some do not; some have health care, some do not; some can read, some can't. Actor Peter Coyote in his memoir of the sixties, Sleeping Where I fall, examines what he calls "the insufficiencies of liberalism: the generosity toward others that is predicated on first sustaining one's own privilege." Some have enough, some do not. (p. 245)
If women even consider the questions of aggression and identity that implicate violence as a political strategy, won't I, asks woman after woman, be just like them? As Jonathan Shay writes in Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character: "...I shall argue what I've come to strongly believe through my work with Vietnam veterans: that moral injury is an essential part of any combat trauma that leads to lifelong psychological injury. Veterans can usually recover from horror, fear, and grief once they return to a civilian life, so long as 'what's right' has not also been violated." Women have combat trauma without fighting; women are fought against and "what's right" is always violated: thus, women live with horror, fear, and grief. Suppose that in the United States twenty men were killed on the same day. Each one had raped or incested or beaten or tortured or pimped or killed one woman or girl or many. Some of the targets were famous—pornographers, for instance—but most were not. There were police reports or hospital reports on the violent acts committed against a woman or women; or there had been a trial from which a transparently guilty man had walked away free. Could women commit even such a small and thoughtful (seriously considered) act of earned retribution? What would happen to the impunity from consequences men count on? How seriously would this violence be taken by the FBI and local police? Would there be a collective heart attack and fierce efforts to find and convict the killers? Could women bear the taking of life as a step toward freedom from systematic and often intimate male violence? As Sofsky says in The Order of Terror: the Concentration Camp, "Just as there is no collective Guilt, there can be no collective innocence." He defines collective crimes as "individual crimes in a collective." (p 247)
Could women fight for the liberation of women? Why has sexual liberation existed without context as a practice and a goal: without the context of poverty or homelessness or unwanted sex or unwanted children; why will an orgasm make poverty or homelessness or unwanted sex or unwanted children all right; how does sexual liberation free women from material deprivation or illiteracy or bad health care or the insult of being subordinated, including in consensual sex? Should African American men in urban ghettos in the United States just fuck more and then they will be free or have what they need: education or jobs or civil dignity?
Could women's liberation ever be a revolutionary movement, not rhetorically but on the ground? henry Kissinger says: "What is a revolutionary? If the answer to that question were without ambiguity, few revolutionaries would ever succeed. For revolutionaries almost always start from a position of inferior strength. They prevail because the established order is unable to grasp its own vulnerability." Male dominance does not comprehend its own vulnerability—with genitals on the outside, easy to attack; men do not understand how their own dominance works—but women do, or can. Can women analyze male dominance? Can women attack it where it is vulnerable? Can women make use of men's vulnerability not to marry but instead to destroy male power? Can women decide that rape will be stopped? Can women strategize to stop rape Can women organize across lines of male enmity to stop rape and battery and incest? Israeli and Palestinian feminists try hard to work together: there is one battered women's shelter that in 1988 was the only place in Israel that Palestinian and Israeli children were being educated together: beautiful children, dispossessed— child and mosher, Arab and Jew—by violent men; and there was one rape crisis center that employed a plastic surgeon to restored the hymen for Palestinian girls and women who had been raped; otherwise, the girls and women risked death. Surely if it can happen there it can happen anywhere. (p. 248)
Women of all races and in all places also need to be beautiful, but the contradiction is built into the demand: her body may be foul, loathsome, stinky, dirty, bloody, and her genitals may suggest an unbearable internality, a viscous, muscled tunnel; but she can remake that repulsive body by breaking some bones, removing body hair, soft- or hard-core mutilation or surgery. These procedures along with various kinds of segregation and absence make her body, finally, ownable: but not by her; never by her. What kind of shame is there in wanting to survive in such a body? Is there enough self-punishment to match the ever present male-inflicted punishments: can she wish her body away by starving or, alternatively, make the men go away by fat—these being the strategies that are culturally Western? With the woman, as with the black, as with the Jew in the Nazi era, crimes are targeted against the body simple because it is perceived to be female; it is a body already disdained; it brings punishment on itself because of its inescapable nature. The shame is in wanting to live and therefore submitting. The shame is in endlessly negotiating incursions into one's own body: all surrender. The shame is in restriction, belittlement, insult. The shame is in being complicitous even if one is fighting for one's own life; the more endangered one is, the more complicitous one feels: the more ashamed. The shame is in having an invisible life even as the body itself can be appropriated by visual colocalization: the so-called male gaze, often with accompanying verbal aggression. The complicity is in being watched and at the same time never hurting back; or, being internally invaded by force and never hurting the invader(s) in self-defense, revenge, or retaliation. (255-256)
Debased men need to degrade women, so that the struggle to subordinate women becomes a basic struggle for male identity as such; in liberation movements, women get a temporary pass from complete servility, because they can be used and useful in any subversion or underground fighting. Once the liberation struggle is won, the women are recolonialized, as happened in Nicaragua, Israel itself, or Algeria. Every time an oppressed group gets state power through which it can express its integrity as people, it destroys the sovereignty of women over their own bodies, so that state power is built directly on the violation of women's integrity. Once debased men become powerful men, the degrading of women becomes a state-protected right; and power most often also requires the demeaning of a racial or ethnic or religious other. Empowered masculinity gets its vitality and arrogance from its newest victory over women, a victory enhanced by the resources and mechanisms of state power. (p. 302)