“Hello there, you awakening wonders.”
This messianic flair is typical of the way in which comedian-turned-conspiracy theorist Russell Brand addresses his millions of online followers. The short statement posted on his (now demonetised) YouTube channel on 16th September, in which he denied five allegations of sexual assault and rape, was no different. While still striking an intimate tone, his words had clearly been well thought through – unsurprising, given the severity of these accusations. Yet the very language which Brand has deployed in his defence also serves to highlight one of the most unpleasant aspects of this case. Many of us may well be awake now – but not in the way he intended.
The truth of the allegations reported by The Times and Channel 4 Dispatches has not yet been determined; Brand and his supporters maintain that this is an attempt by the mainstream media to silence him. But irrespective of these new claims, Russell Brand’s misogyny is and has always been a well-documented fact. Some of the most shocking scenes in the Channel 4 Dispatches investigation are nothing new – archive footage of endless stand-up routines, talk show appearances, and television broadcasts, all presenting variations on the theme of objectifying women. The material is highly crass – suggesting that a female interviewee remove her underwear and then miming masturbation, praising “them blowjobs where mascara runs a bit” and making exaggerated gagging noises (all the while claiming “It was her idea!”). Yet it’s all delivered with a cheeky smile and a knowing wink, to the tune of laughter and whoops from his audience. It’s all part of his act, right?
Brand certainly appeared to be disarmingly candid about his exploits. “I was always transparent about [what he refers to as his “promiscuous, consensual conduct”] then, almost too transparent, and I’m being transparent about it now,” he declared in the statement. On the surface his performances certainly had a frank, confessional air; yet while his remarks seemed uncensored and off-the-cuff, their earthiness was offset by eloquence. Lewd jokes were made more palatable by a veneer of verbiage, producing such whimsically stark juxtapositions of register as “the sexual apotheosis that is bumming”. Likewise, Brand’s flamboyant style and animated, at times even earnest, delivery served to further underplay his degradation of women. It’s just a bit of fun! Lighten up!
Although he has since abandoned his salacious material and reinvented himself as a wellness guru standing up to the establishment, these distraction tactics are still present in Brand’s recent statement. The language used is oddly ornate in places – the word “litany” is repeated numerous times, and his “transparency” has not just been “twisted” or “distorted” by the media, but rather “metastasized into something criminal”. The use of this word is unusual outside of a medical context, since it describes the multiplication of cancerous cells. It seems clear that it has been chosen for deliberate rhetorical effect, in order to underscore his point about a hidden “agenda” behind this report, and also perhaps to provide an air of respectability and intellectualism. It’s easy to forget that this is the same man once known for assertions of a wholly different sort. “I like to have it off, right? Yeah, why not?”
There is also an irony to Brand’s dismissal of “this litany of astonishing, rather baroque attacks”. While presumably intended to paint the accusations as absurd confections of the mainstream media, the word “baroque” is also a fitting descriptor of his own persona and discourse. The images and associations it conjures up are of extravagant ornamentation, exaggeration, bombast, heightened emotions. There’s also a hint of decadence – the style was a staple of the counter-Reformation – and a whiff of artificiality too: churrigueresque excess bordering on vulgarity, wood painted to imitate gold and marble. Far from transparency, the aesthetic speaks of concealment and embellishment. And long before his transformation into a modern-day prophet Brand was a fan of religious iconography, once even performing a stand-up routine in front of a huge image of Christ. He closed this particular live show by rapturously declaring “I worship divine sexual female energy!” Outwardly more positive than rape jokes, but still ultimately reducing women’s worth to sex. And entirely undermined by the follow up remark about how this ode to womankind has been carefully calculated – “there’s no way I ain’t getting laid after the show tonight!”
The most disturbing thing about this whole affair is that Russell Brand was so successful for so long. Even in the context of the lad culture of the early 2000s he was considered risqué, and was eventually fired from his BBC Radio 2 show for taking things too far. In a prank call to actor Andrew Sachs, Brand boasted of having slept with the actor’s granddaughter Georgina Baillie. But even then, the focus of the scandal was on the embarrassment that this caused to Sachs, and not the impact on Baillie of having had details of her sex life divulged on national radio. Equally, what about all the other nameless, faceless women who comprised the material for Brand’s anecdotes of debauchery? Did anyone consider them? Or was it easier to laugh along?
It seems it was not just members of the public who were dazzled by Brand’s showmanship and devil-may-care attitude. “His language is magnetic and he’s charismatic […] there’s something about him” – journalist Emily Maitlis stated on her podcast The News Agents, reflecting on how the comedian had won her over during an interview. She was far from the only one. Too many powerful people, the media establishment that Brand now makes a living from criticising, simply sat back and let him spew degrading remarks under the guise of banter or “ironic” comedy. And too many people kept buying tickets to his shows, kept tuning in to his broadcasts, bought his books, went to see his films. Only now that the possibility has emerged that all those words could have led to action are we examining and questioning the content of Brand’s routines.
Still, surely it’s reassuring that now, at least, his past comments are widely seen as sleazy and extremely sexist. No one would get away with that material today, let alone build a media career and become a Hollywood star on the back of it. But we shouldn’t rush to congratulate ourselves and speak of a “different time”. The height of Brand’s fame on British television was less than 20 years ago, and while blatant misogyny is no longer socially acceptable it continues to rear its head. Lawrence Fox’s comments about political journalist Ava Evans on a recent GB News broadcast are a prime example. “Who’d want to shag that?” Once again, women’s only importance lies in their sexual attractiveness and fulfilment of male fantasies.
Fox has subsequently been suspended from presenting duties and the channel has issued an apology. But if there’s one thing we should learn from the Russell Brand case, regardless of its eventual outcome, it’s that it is never just about one individual. Brand may be the subject of these allegations, but there are many more people who enabled his appalling attitude to thrive. The legacy of this exposé should not be the demonisation of one man, but the consideration of the social systems that both shaped him and gave him power and influence. We should all consider the ideas and attitudes which we’ve received and supported; whether we’ve since come to regret them or still uphold them, whether we’ve expressed them actively or passively. This needs to be a wake-up call for everyone.
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