And inevitably, with bad behavior comes excuses.
It's no surprise that prominent accused harassers and predators, once cornered, would try to wriggle out of accusations of sexual conduct and abuse. What is surprising is the variety in their attempts to justify their alleged behavior. Excuses by way of apology. Excuses by way of confession. Excuses by way of firm, uncompromising denial. All attempting to convey how they didn't do what they've been accused of or that what they did do made sense to them in the moment. In some way, they're the most revealing window into the personal, social, and cultural forces that enable their alleged misdeeds.
Excuses, ultimately, reflect our beliefs about what's just and fair. Which raises some questions: Do any of them actually put the behavior in a context that makes it, in some distressing way, understandable? Do they ever work? And what does it say about us if we believe them?
Here are just some of the excuses we know they've tried:
To date, more than 50 women have accused Hollywood mega-producer Harvey Weinstein of engaging in a decades-long pattern of abusive behavior ranging from harassment to sexual coercion to rape. But lest "what he supposedly did" is coloring your impression of him, Weinstein wants you to remember he's not an evil man: He's just a recovering hippie!
"I came of age in the '60s and '70s when all the rules about behavior and workplaces were different," Weinstein wrote in a statement. "That was the culture then."
Of course. Who doesn't remember the '60s and '70s? Flower power! Free love! Cornering women in a hotel room and trying to force them to watch you shower! Though the millions of other people who made it through those turbulent decades without harassing or abusing anyone — or threatening them if they told anyone and then hiring ex-spies to help cover it up — might remember those decades slightly differently, Weinstein simply refuses to let the swingin' spirit die. No matter the decade, his behavior is less "groovy" and more "galling."
Weinstein's excuse depends on eliding two wildly different notions: (1) That America failed to take workplace harassment and sexual abuse seriously in the '60s and '70s, and (2) that it was OK back then — or perpetrated by anyone reared back then — as a result. While the first assertion is undeniable, the second is self-serving nonsense. Just because a behavior was ignored, tolerated, or even encouraged doesn't make it remotely close to excusable.
Thus wrote comedian Louis C.K. in a widely praised (and widely derided) statement confirming a New York Times report that he had masturbated in front of almost half a dozen unwilling women.
"At the time, I said to myself that what I did was O.K. because I never showed a woman my dick without asking first, which is ... true. But what I learned later in life, too late, is that when you have power over another person, asking them to look at your dick isn’t a question. It’s a predicament for them."
Some might argue C.K.'s approach forgoes the most critical part of consent: waiting for a response. Still others might assert that without getting a "yes" or a "no" back, there's no point in asking at all. Viewed that way, C.K.'s logic is baffling at best, and it's both miraculous and frightening that he somehow got to the age of 50 believing the world works like this.
More frightening still, scattered segments from C.K.'s TV show and various stand-up specials in which the comedian acknowledges viewing masturbation as a form of control or tool of revenge suggest that he did indeed know the effect his behavior had on others — and simply didn't care.
Ah, alcohol. Absolver of all responsibility. Whether knocking over a glass vase, texting your roommates at 4 a.m., or sexually assaulting teenagers, some men apparently believe that acknowledging that you were blasted when it happened is a one-way express ticket to Forgiveness Town. That reportedly includes Kevin Spacey, who actor Anthony Rapp says drunkenly attempted to force himself on him when Rapp was 14.
"If I did behave then as he describes, I owe him the sincerest apology for what would have been deeply inappropriate drunken behavior, and I am sorry for the feelings he describes having carried with him all these years," Spacey wrote in a statement responding contritely to the alleged incident. Since the story of Rapp's accusation broke, over a dozen more accusers have come forward.
To make matters worse for everyone but himself, Spacey used the space of his response to come out as a gay man — all but implying a connection between his alleged predation and his closeted sexuality. It reads as a desperate attempt to buy a modicum of sympathy at the cost of casting suspicion on millions of innocent LGBTQ Americans.
Donald Trump's now-infamous comments about sexually assaulting women — "Grab 'em by the pussy" and "I moved on her like a bitch" — have largely disappeared down the memory hole, thanks to the steadily strengthening storm of scandals swirling around the now-president. Still, it's tough to forget how the former reality show host became president in the first place: by managing to convince a depressing percentage of Americans that his unscripted admission was just a case of "boys being boys."
"This was locker-room banter, a private conversation that took place many years ago," Trump said in a statement following the revelations.
Was it, though? On one hand, you've got the producers of "Access Hollywood," who fired Billy Bush for merely participating in that very discussion; dozens professional athletes asserting that, no, that's not at all what locker rooms are like; not to mention the dozens of women who have come forward and accused Trump of doing pretty much exactly what he described. On the other hand, you have the word of Donald Trump, a dude who lies constantly.
Tough call, I guess.
"Toward the end of my time at ABC News, I recognized I had a problem," journalist Mark Halperin said in a statement responding to allegations he had sexually harassed multiple women during his tenure at the network. "No one had sued me, no one had filed a human resources complaint against me, no colleague had confronted me. But I didn’t need a call from HR to know that I was a selfish, immature person who was behaving in a manner that had to stop."
Of course, Halperin "knew" that what he was doing was wrong in the same way that his victims likely "knew" that going to human resources to complain about their boss would get them sidelined, fired, or branded as a troublemaker. That power imbalance allows Halperin to attempt to have it both ways: pretending to take full responsibility of the allegations while slyly implying that the women he harassed share the blame for not speaking up sooner or louder.
After multiple women came forward to accuse former President George H.W. Bush of groping them while posing for photos, the elder statesman did something few accused predators have the integrity to do: He admitted it.
Still, as drafted by his spokesperson, his statement-slash-confession seemed to carry more than a whiff of an implication that his victims were needlessly slandering a harmless, disabled, old American hero:
"To try to put people at ease, the president routinely tells the same joke — and on occasion, he has patted women’s rears in what he intended to be a good-natured manner."
And while it's true that Bush is in his 90s and his arms aren't as flexible as they used to be, a pat is different than a squeeze — and if someone squeezes your ass, you know. Not to mention, this explanation would appear to be contradicted by new reports that a less old and less infirm Bush was, apparently, no less inclined to grope the women (and girls, in some cases) standing next to him in photos.
For some serial abusers, getting a woman her dream job apparently means assuming sexual ownership over her forever and always in exchange. Consider Roger Ailes, who reportedly made a series of unwelcome overtures to former Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly, even repeatedly attempting to kiss her in his office. The excuse he gave, framed as a furious denial, attempts to marshal other, generous actions as evidence to why he couldn't or wouldn't have engaged in misconduct.
"I worked tirelessly to promote and advance [Megyn Kelly’s] career, as Megyn herself admitted to Charlie Rose. Watch that interview and then decide for yourself," Ailes said. As is commonly the case, Kelly wasn't close to alone in her accusations among the women hired by Ailes. Since former Fox anchor Gretchen Carlson launched her lawsuit against her ex-boss, more than 20 women have come forward with similar allegations.
For others, that imagined control extends to merely pretending to get women jobs. That was, allegedly, the longtime MO of director James Toback, who is accused of inviting over 200 women to professional meetings only to proposition and, occasionally, assault them once in private. Toback put his denial even more aggressively:
"The idea that I would offer a part to anyone for any other reason than that he or she was gonna be the best of anyone I could find is so disgusting to me. And anyone who says it is a lying c*cksucker or c*nt or both."
A popular excuse, especially among various left-of-center men of Hollywood and the media, mixes a nod to contrition with a subtle appeal to tribal loyalty: "I may have been a jerk once," the argument goes, "But I'm on the right side of the issues that you care about."
Here's Casey Affleck's response, who reportedly harassed multiple women on the set of "I'm Still Here":
"There’s really nothing I can do about [the allegations] other than live my life the way I know I live it and to speak to what my own values are and how I try to live by them all the time."
And here's what Dustin Hoffman had to say after he was accused of making inappropriate and lewd comments to a production assistant during "Death of a Salesman":
"I have the utmost respect for women and feel terrible that anything I might have done could have put her in an uncomfortable situation. I am sorry. It is not reflective of who I am."
And here are Leon Weiseltier's words, who allegedly harassed multiple women of a series of years as editor-in-chief of The New Republic:
"The women with whom I worked are smart and good people. I am ashamed to know that I made any of them feel demeaned and disrespected. I assure them that I will not waste this reckoning."
Whether that "reckoning" ever comes is often irrelevant to the alleged abuser. What matters is that enough people believe he's an asset to whatever fight they're fighting, leaving open the possibility that he'll be rehabilitated by his community without having to lift a finger.
When in doubt, blame those bastards in the opposition party for trying to tear you down.
"If you look at the totality, this was a hit job — a political and financial hit job," argued Bill O'Reilly, after reports surfaced that he settled an unknown sexual harassment claim for $32 million in addition to allegations that he harassed or abused a string of coworkers during his decade-plus at Fox News.
As a naked appeal to tribal loyalty, it's a nefarious tactic but potentially a good deal more effective than, say, trying to shame your accusers by sharing the thank you notes they wrote you for some unrelated thing or outright blaming God — two things O'Reilly for real tried to do in the wake of allegations against him.
When in even more doubt, blame the fake news for whipping up people's anger and impairing their "objectivity."
"Brett Ratner vehemently denies the outrageous derogatory allegations that have been reported about him, and we are confident that his name will be cleared once the current media frenzy dies down and people can objectively evaluate the nature of these claims," said the director's spokesperson in a statement responding to allegations that Ratner had engaged in sexual misconduct on set.
Despite Ratner's denial, actor Ellen Page followed up days later with a blistering Facebook post, accusing the director of outing her against her will with an unwelcome, sexually tinged comment. Ratner as of yet hasn't respond to her claim, unmediated by the media such as it was.
When in the most doubt, blame Vladimir Putin. As if the allegations against George Takei (which eerily paralleled a story Takei himself told Howard Stern several weeks earlier) weren't upsetting enough, especially given Takei's history of speaking out about the serious issue of sexual harassment, his response could not have been more bizarre:
"A friend sent me this. It is a chart of what Russian bots have been doing to amplify stories containing the allegations against me," Takei wrote, after allegations that he had groped a fellow actor without his consent surfaced. "It’s clear they want to cow me into silence, but do not fear friends. I won’t succumb to that."
Of course, not all of those accused of harassment or abuse are guilty, though recent studies peg the incidence of false reports at between a mere 2% to 8%. But while the guilty category is larger by leaps and bounds, that inkling of doubt too often allows alleged harassers and predators to weasel their way into the former.
"No one wants to discourage abuse victims from speaking out, but one must bear in mind that sometimes there are people who are falsely accused and that is also a terribly destructive thing," Woody Allen wrote in The New York Times after his daughter, Dylan Farrow, accused him of sexually assaulting her in the pages of the same paper a week earlier.
When reached for comment on the on the Harvey Weinstein allegations, Allen told the BBC he wished to avoid "a witch-hunt atmosphere" where "every guy in an office who winks at a woman is suddenly having to call a lawyer to defend himself." It's a frame that conflates workplace flirting (potentially harassing behavior in its own right) with Weinstein's alleged pattern of coercion and assault or, perhaps, his own by association.
Rather than offer an excuse, which can be its own form of admission, some alleged abusers simply choose to say nothing and hope the accusation goes away. That's what Bill Clinton did in response to claims that he raped then-nursing home operator Juanita Brodderick in a hotel after luring her there with the promise of a professional meeting. First, Clinton's attorney called the allegations "absolutely false." Later, Clinton himself doubled down.
"My counsel has made a statement about the ... issue, and I have nothing to add to it," the then-president told the Washington Post.
Of course, when the allegations become impossible to deny, some abusers see no option beyond making a full-throated, self-abasing confession. Anthony Weiner did this after pleading guilty to "transferring obscene material to a minor."
"This fall, I came to grips for the first time with the depths of my sickness. I had hit bottom," he said in court. "I entered intensive treatment, found the courage to take a moral inventory of my defects, and began a program of recovery and mental health treatment that I continue to follow every day."
"I accept full responsibility for my conduct," he continued. "I have a sickness, but I do not have an excuse. I apologize to everyone I have hurt. I apologize to the teenage girl, whom I mistreated so badly. I am committed to making amends to all those I have harmed. Thank you."
Weiner certainly isn't the first prominent accused predator to claim to be broken. Harvey Weinstein checked himself into rehab for sex addiction after allegations against him surfaced. Kevin Spacey did the same some weeks later. Weiner himself previously had done a stint at rehab. But while Weiner's statement completely acknowledges the scope of his wrongdoing, it nonetheless contains an excuse. In some way, it implies that the former congressman's sickness mitigates the harm his actions caused or, at the very least, absolves him of some of the blame.
It's evidence that even the best, most clinical excuse is substandard at best.
Which is why the most reasonable excuse might just be:
On Nov. 1, former NPR news chief Michael Oreskes stepped down in the wake of allegations that he had harassed multiple women on the job. His acknowledgement was direct and, notably, didn't offer an explanation for his behavior.
"I am deeply sorry to the people I hurt. My behavior was wrong and inexcusable, and I accept full responsibility."
Apologizing unconditionally doesn't make it all better. It doesn't restore the careers of the women Oreskes' behavior likely sidelined, marginalized, or ended. And it doesn't provide a quicker, smoother path to forgiveness. Doing so merely acknowledges what should by now be obvious.
When it comes to harassing or abusing the people who work for you, depend on you, admire you, or simply those who are around you, there is no excuse.