A celebrated creator of one of the most critically praised television shows in recent memory releases a memoir in which she strongly hints—though never, in her own voice, comes out and says—that she was raped in college by a conservative named Barry. The memoir is lionized, the author is praised for her bravery. Only one problem: The easily identified Barry couldn't have been her attacker. The author and her publisher have now retracted the claims and said they will alter the book in an effort to avoid getting their pants sued off.
A celebrated magazine with a storied history of investigative reporting releases a hugely praised piece on the scourge of campus rape. Its centerpiece is a vicious tale of gang rape, in which a freshman is assaulted by seven men as part of a fraternity initiation and is then abandoned by her friends, who are more worried about getting into keggers than aiding their traumatized dorm mate. The fraternity named in the article comes under literal attack, suffering vandalism and a shattered reputation. Greek life on the storied campus is curtailed by a spooked administration. Only one problem: literally nothing about the central story holds up to even the slightest scrutiny. The magazine retracts the allegations and throws the alleged victim under the bus in an effort to avoid getting its pants sued off.
A celebrated website publishes a damning portrait of the way we treat rape on college campuses. The author thoroughly dismantles the absurd notion that one in four, or one in five, women is sexually assaulted while at school. She shows the ways in which those accused of assault are left with little recourse except, perversely, to sue under Title IX as victims of sexual discrimination. She demonstrates that due process rights are the first victims on college campuses when the shouts that "something must be done" begin emanating from the White House and Congress. And she sensibly points out that alcohol abuse leaves one more, not less, vulnerable to sexual assault. Only one problem: the author is denounced as a "rape denialist," accused of "riding hard for rapists," or ignored altogether by the very same people who had breathlessly praised the aforementioned magazine's wholly discredited article.
We have a problem. A problem that people have ignored for all too long. A problem that threatens all of us. It's time for a national conversation about writing about rape.
We live in a society in which narrative trumps facts. Thanks to this "narrative culture," ours is a society in which an editor at a campus newspaper feels comfortable writing in a national publication that we shouldn't let little things like fact checking get in the way of the grander story. A society in which we are shamed and silenced when we dare question whether or not a tale took place. A society that produces people who feel comfortable calling those who question the preferred story lines are compared to conspiracy theorists and Holocaust deniers. A society in which "narrative journalism" is given pride of place over the truth.
This has to change. It has to change because even if the number of sexual assault victims on campus is closer to one in 40 than one in four, that's one too many. But we do no one any good by hyperventilating and freaking out and ruining the lives of untold people in the name of "justice." And we, as journalists, fail when we lie to our readers, when we trick them into thinking things that aren't real. Because all we're doing is giving them reason to distrust us. Every time one of these stories is exposed as a fraud you're empowering the hucksters who hate you.
We need to thoroughly dismantle narrative culture. The facts matter more than our preferred narrative. They always have. It's time we remember that.