In March of 2020, Harvey Weinstein was found guilty of criminal sexual assault and rape. Prosecutors cited his “lifetime of abuse” and “lack of remorse” as reasons for giving him the maximum possible sentence of 23 years, which he received. Reporters noted that “he has consistently denied wrongdoing and his lawyers have vowed to appeal against his conviction” (ibid). He has yet to stand trial for sexual harassment charges made against him by over 100 women.
I think most people would say that Weinstein is not only legally liable but also morally blameworthy for raping two women and sexually harassing dozens more.
But this isn’t necessarily the philosophical consensus. In fact, some theories of blame entail that Weinstein isn’t fit to be blamed because he doesn’t have the capacities required to warrant blame. Others would say that he’s blameworthy, but for a specific and rigid set of reasons.
In this post, I’m going to critique one of these theories, the guilt model, whose proponents include Coleen Macnamara, David Shoemaker, and Stephen Darwall. This theory holds that a person is blameworthy for wrongdoing only if he is capable of feeling and expressing guilt. I will assume that to be blameworthy is to be a proper target of angry disapproval, or a similar ‘reactive attitude’ (viz., Strawson 1964). The problem with the guilt model, I will argue, is that it implies either that Weinstein isn’t blameworthy for raping and sexually harassing women (because he doesn’t and can’t feel guilt), or that he is blameworthy, but for reasons that many of his victims would not find compelling (for example, because he can feel guilty about something unrelated). Both interpretations imply that his victims were not justified in blaming him for the reasons they gave – that doing so would contribute to a more equitable and less oppressive system of practices.
Before saying much more about Weinstein’s victims’ reasons for blaming him, let me note that I will be focusing here only on the public reasons given by Weinstein’s victims. I do not purport to know all the reasons each person had for blaming him.
I will argue that Weinstein’s victims were justified in blaming him for the reasons that they publicly articulated, which are on the public record, because these reasons belong to a set of feminist practices, goals, and relationships that challenge patriarchal relations of domination. When we think about why it is important to blame others, and to blame them publicly, we should consider the role that our blame is likely to play in our system of practices and relationships. Blaming people in an attempt to hold them accountable, or to empower women, or to combat systems of inequality, is justified because it contributes to a less oppressive society. These may not be the only roles that blame plays in our social practice, but they are important social roles. Blaming another person in this way is justified because it seeks these outcomes.
Let’s now turn to the example of Harvey Weinstein and examine whether he can feel guilt and warrant blame on that basis, as the guilt model suggests. To begin, the lead prosecutor in Weinstein’s trial stated that he had “‘displayed a staggering lack of empathy, treating others with disdain and inhumanity’” throughout his professional life… and had ‘consistently advanced his own sordid desires and fixations over the well-being of others.’” Weinstein had previously “hired a private intelligence firm to threaten people who planned to speak to reporters about him”; he “bragged about his ability to get people killed” and warned one of his victims that he “could send men with baseball bats to assault her father”; he bullied women “into signing non-disclosure agreements to settle complaints of sexual harassment, assault and rape.” His brother Bob has described him as “remorseless,” and has said that on the few occasions when they spoke in recent years, “Harvey failed to express any remorse for his victims, instead focusing on who leaked details of the assaults to the press.” These do not sound like the actions of a guilt-afflicted man. Nor do I see good evidence that Weinstein is likely to start feeling remorse in the future.
If Weinstein doesn’t and can’t feel guilty about what he’s done, then he is exempt from blame on the guilt model. This, in turn, implies that his victims weren’t entitled to blame him.
There are, however, other ways of interpreting the guilt constraint, and some imply that Weinstein is, in fact, blameworthy. But my worry is that these interpretations do not adequately explain why he is blameworthy. Let’s look at a couple of these options.
First, we can distinguish between feeling guilty in the moment and having the capacity for guilt, which isn’t necessarily triggered in response to every instance of blame. A guilt theorist might say that although Weinstein doesn’t feel guilty now, he may have felt guilty about something in the past, which shows that he has the capacity for guilt, and this capacity makes him a proper target of blame. ‘The capacity for guilt’ is typically interpreted as the neural networks that support the feeling of guilt. Most philosophers believe that all non-psychopathic adults have these neural networks, and that if we have ever felt a tinge of guilt, this shows that we have them. So, if Weinstein has ever felt guilty about, say, forgetting to return his library books, then he has the capacity for guilt, and he is a fair target for the blame directed at him by his victims.
Here’s the problem: why would Weinstein’s ability to feel guilty about something like failing to return his library books be a reason for his victims to blame him? This is a reason for his librarian to blame him. The fact that he assaulted his victims is a reason for them to blame him. The ‘capacity’ interpretation of guilt, then, would recognize that Weinstein’s victims are entitled to blame him, but not for the reasons that they’ve articulated in their allegations.
One could also point to the capacity to feel guilty in the future as a reason to blame someone. Miranda Fricker (2014) argues for something along these lines. On her view, Weinstein could be considered blameworthy because he has a latent capacity to repent and experience painful, guilt-laden remorse in the future. Maybe he’ll experience a change of heart on his death bed? This isn’t beyond the realm of possibility. But why would the possibility of a last-minute conversion matter to his victims? In their testimony against him, Weinstein’s accusers did not point to his feelings of guilt as their own reason for blaming him. They did not frame their blame as being about his conscience. And as Pamela Hieronymy has similarly stated, blame is not necessarily just about the wrongdoer, nor is it always guided by a desire to make someone feel guilty. It’s evident that men like Weinstein will not feel guilty no matter what his victims say.
What is a good reason to blame an unrepentant misogynist? Weinstein’s victims articulated a number of compelling reasons that did not refer to his conscience. For example, in response to Weinstein’s misogynistic and racially-motivated bullying on the set of ‘Frida’, Salma Hayek wrote,
We are finally becoming conscious of a vice that has been socially accepted and has insulted and humiliated millions of girls like me, for in every woman there is a girl. I am inspired by those who had the courage to speak out, especially in a society that elected a president who has been accused of sexual harassment and assault by more than a dozen women and whom we have all heard make a statement about how a man in power can do anything he wants to women. Well, not anymore.
Hayek’s rationale is consistent with the mission of the #MeToo movement, which helped bring Weinstein to justice. The movement’s founder, Tarana Burke, has said that #MeToo is not about “taking down powerful men” but about “support[ing] the survivors…., making sure survivors are in a place of leadership in the work to end sexual violence.” If taking down powerful men is a “by-product of people coming forward and telling their truth…then that’s fine,” but the main objective of #MeToo is, and always has been, empowering survivors and changing the culture.
I agree that public testimony, including public blame, can be justified by its role in dismantling hierarchies of power that harm women. That is, blame can be justified even if it doesn’t trigger guilt in the wrongdoer, since it plays other valuable roles in our society’s system of practices and relationships – roles that bring about a less oppressive, less biased culture. Consistent with this thought, people like Kristie Dotson and Rachel Flowers have argued that we do not have a duty to constantly educate our oppressors, or to engage in conversation with them when dynamics of power weigh heavily in their favor; yet this is not to say that oppressors are excused or exonerated. They may still be blameworthy for reasons that don’t center on their agency.
This orientation is also reflected in the media’s emphasis on #MeToo role in bringing about systemic changes such as the banning of non-disclosure agreements that cover sexual harassment, the provision of legal aid to people pursuing sexual harassment lawsuits, restitution to survivors of sexual assault, and shifts in the public conversation about sexual violence. Nowhere amongst these justifications are considerations about the guilt-realizing mechanisms of rapists and sexual harassers. Having the capacity to feel guilty about raping women – or for anything for that matter – is not a prerequisite to being a proper target of blame.
The view that oppressors are blameworthy even if they do not feel guilty for their crimes is also defended by philosophers who focus on systematic rape culture rather than individual criminality. Sarah Miller, for instance, argues that many women expose rapists in an attempt to “create space for epistemic, ethical, and political community between survivors of sexual violence by denying hegemonic epistemic discourses of contemporary rape culture.” This is consistent with Burke’s claim that #MeToo is primarily about empowering survivors through systemic change, not bring down bad men. The long-term aim is to replace oppressive systems of power with respectful and mutually beneficial relationships, by respecting survivors’ claims.
This conflicts with the guilt model’s emphasis on the guilt-realizing capacities of wrongdoers. From a feminist perspective, these men will not feel guilty because their misogyny is so internalized and supported by popular culture that they are unable to see or feel any wrongdoing. What Burke and other feminists are saying is that many women blame powerful men not in an effort to guilt-trip them, but to empower women survivors, change the culture for future generations, show that abuse ought not be tolerated in the highest echelons of society, and other feminist, liberatory aims. These goals lend legitimacy to a person’s blame, even when that person isn’t attempting to extract guilt from an oppressor.
Weinstein’s case illustrates the guilt model’s limitations as a tool for ending rape and sexual abuse. If these are our goals, we must be sensitive to reasons that have the potential to bring about such changes, reasons that help put people on equal footing in moral conversations. Survivors tend to be socially marginalized and unable to demand the uptake to which they are entitled. By recognizing their reasons as valid, we give them the uptake they deserve, and we support their world-changing goals. In contrast, if we adopt the guilt constraint, we place an unfair epistemic burden on survivors, forcing them to prove that they can morally improve their abuser – which of course they cannot do – while denying the legitimacy of their own reasons for blaming the person. These outcomes contribute to the oppression that survivors already face. The guilt model needs to be abandoned in favor of adopting a feminist logic of blame.
The Women in Philosophy series publishes posts on women in the history of philosophy, posts on issues of concern to women in the field of philosophy, and posts that put philosophy to work to address issues of concern to women in the wider world. If you are interested in writing for the series, please contact the Series Editor Adriel M. Trott or Associate Editor Julinna Oxley.
Michelle Ciurria
Michelle Ciurria is a visiting scholar at the University of Missouri-St. Louis. She completed her PhD at York University in Toronto and held postdoctoral fellowships at the University of New South Wales and Washington University in St. Louis. She is the author of An Intersectional Feminist Theory of Moral Responsibility.
