The Weinstein Question

You don’t have to be a liberal or conservative, woman or man, to find Harvey Weinstein’s conduct repulsive. Weinstein, co-founder of Miramax Films and the eponymous Weinstein Company, producer of dozens of well-known, well-regarded, and multiple-Oscar-winning movies over the past three decades, stands revealed as a creepy Hollywood producer straight from central casting: Bullying, physically violent, verbally profane—and a serial sexual predator who preyed on actresses for years on end.

Even if there is a particle of truth in Weinstein’s assertion that Jodi Kantor and Meghan Twohey’s devastating New York Times story that went up Thursday contains errors, the fact remains that Weinstein has settled at least eight complaints of sexual harassment in the past three decades, and credible public assertions are now being made almost daily about his habitual misconduct.

In any case, Weinstein’s own rambling, inchoate statement—“I came of age in the ’60s and ’70s . . . [and] that was the culture then . . . . I so respect all women and regret what happened”—largely confirms what the story revealed. Weinstein’s principal regret appears to be not his compulsive behavior but the effect its disclosure will have on his business prospects. And with reason: When the Times story was published, he took a leave of absence from The Weinstein Company; since then, its board has fired him. At this juncture, Weinstein seems destined to end his career in the same pariah status as Bill Cosby, another show-biz giant whose celebrity not only advanced his long career as a sexual predator but insulated him from exposure and accountability.

Or maybe not. Toward the end of his statement, Weinstein takes an awkward, but revealing, left turn: “I am going to need a place to channel that anger,” he declares, “so I’ve decided to give the NRA my full attention.” He is also “making a movie about our president” which, he hopes, will precipitate the “retirement” of Donald Trump, as well as the NRA president. Oh, and he has also begun “organizing a $5 million foundation to give scholarships to women directors at [the University of Southern California].”

On the one hand, it’s an embarrassingly ham-handed appeal to Weinstein’s fellow Democrats—I hate Trump and the NRA, so how bad can I be?—to which, we are pleased to note, no Democrats have responded favorably. But it does emphasize one troubling aspect of this tawdry episode.

According to the Times story, Weinstein’s pattern of conduct appears to have been an open secret, in and out of Hollywood, for decades—and presumably, among people outside show business, especially political progressives, who cultivated Weinstein, solicited money from him, basked in his power and renown, and were pleased to reward him with praise and gratitude. And indeed, not least among those who knew of Weinstein’s exploitations, as Lee Smith suggests, are representatives of the news media whose job it is, or was, to expose the truth.

What did they know about their friend Harvey, and when did they know it? And more pertinent still: Did knowledge of Weinstein’s predatory sexual habits inhibit their own behavior towards him—and if not, why not? A famous advocate for women in cinema, and for feminist political causes, who is also known to be a serial abuser of women, must surely have pricked a conscience or two.

So we may hope. For even though Harvey Weinstein “came of age” at a time when sexual mores evolved downward in American life, there was never a time, even in Hollywood, when such behavior as described in the Times story—trading acting jobs for sexual favors, pressuring powerless young women to abase themselves in order to work—was regarded as anything other than repellent. That Weinstein, even now, seems persuaded that “that was the culture then” tells us all we need to know about Harvey Weinstein. But what does it tell us about his legion of publicly silent, and disturbingly wide, circle of friends and admirers?

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