From the Edge

Rape is a touchy subject for many people, including the professional journalists at the Chico News & Review, which refused to print this.

A few weeks ago I wrote that government goons should leave Roman Polanski and his rape victim alone, and a reader of this blog was moved to respond. The woman Polanski was convicted of raping when she was 13 in 1977 wants to forget the whole thing, but government agents want Polanski in prison. Never mind compassion for the victim, let alone for Polanski. Vengeance is more important.

The reader, Oliver Steinberg, is a friend of mine, knows women who’ve been psychologically scarred by rape, and is concerned mostly because of the difference in their ages—30 years. That means child molestation, and he thinks child molestation warrants prison time.

I don’t recommend child molestation, and I haven’t molested a child since I was one, and still I recognize that some people thinking of children as sexual beings and even sexually desirable has been going on forever and is unlikely to go away, no matter how vindictive you are. If you’re interested in the nature of children’s sexuality, I suggest reading Harmful to Minors, by Judith Levine.

Mr. Steinberg says, “I don’t think you can persuasively say that a 13-year-old consenting to sexual activity with a 30-year-old has anywhere near the comprehension of the potential risks and consequences involved, compared to the sophistication of the older partner.” I see his point, and yet I still think victimless crime—remember, the woman wants to drop the charges—is oppression. No matter how we compare levels of sophistication, nobody has a beef but her.

There was a song about statutory rape from the 1950s called, I think, “Jailbait,” wherein the singer extolled the attractions of teenage girls and promised the judge not to succumb to their charms again. I thought legal age limits on sex unreasonable then, and I still do. I don’t expect reasonableness, though, and I no longer mind its absence.

I know women who have been raped. I feel sorry when things like that happen, and still I think that what goes around comes around and that the rewards of the men involved are as sure as yours and mine. I don’t have to do anything about them, and neither do the goons. I’d support victims choosing a consequence, but it’s nobody else’s business. If we’re opposed to rape—and not all of us are—the main thing we can do about it is not do it. Tell your friends.

At this point what affects me most about Polanski’s situation, other than momentary dismay at the extent to which politicians and cops and lawyers are all in cahoots, with the necessary support of corporate media, to control us at least and oppress us if possible, is that I’ve spent several hours thinking about something that’s none of my business, and that even the victim doesn’t want to think about. We could all—especially other rape victims, I suppose—emulate her and think about something else. I suggest a winter garden. Consider chard.

Bertrand Russell (1872–1970) is quoted as saying, “The reformative effect of punishment is a belief that dies hard, chiefly, I think, because it is so satisfying to our sadistic impulses.” Those sadistic impulses feed on the fears in our heads and support the punishment industry. Include me out.