On editing bitchily

I wrote a story on domestic violence recently, a topic I know little about. So I did a fair bit of research, interviewed a number of people and wrote an article. I was happy with it, despite having a niggling feeling that I hadn't really come to grips with it. Most of the people I talked to were strongly feminist, as you'd expect. I think they saw working in the domestic violence area as a way to fight the patriarchy, right there, on the front line. That's reasonable, given the fact it's a gendered form of violence: generally, men dish it out and women receive it. But whenever I pushed one of my interviewees on why these men would do such things, the answers provided went something like this: These men hurt their partners because they are insecure, violent and abusive. Because power and control are important to them. Because they like degrading their spouses. Because they want to stop them leaving. A few times someone mentioned that prior abuse gave some indication. But the general picture was not on the cause, but the effect, on the victim.

I became quite frustrated at this. The picture I was getting seemed too glib, too filled with blame and polarization. The men were Satanic. Evil. End of story. There were too few solutions and too much focus on bandaids and picking up the survivors. I was stoked when I finally managed to extract a quote that actually humanised the humans who hurt other humans close to them:

“Feminists generally say domestic violence is linked to patriarchy,” says S, a psychologist, “but I wonder whether there are a lot of men out there who cope with roles as men OK except when it comes to women and children, because that makes them vulnerable.” There’s a perverse logic to it. “These men feel that if they destroy that person’s sense of self so they can’t leave, if they destroy what they were attracted to, that makes them secure,” she says.

This quote mollified me and I sent the article in. A couple of days later, I got back an edited copy. It had been eviscerated. Much of the colour and life, much of the reality I'd tried to inject had been sucked out and replaced by a very correct, very boring, very unreadable type of prose. My prized quote was noticable by its absence. So was another on the disproportionate damage done to indigenous women and communities by domestic violence. A catchy phrase I was proud of had vanished. It read: It's not a battle of the sexes, it's a battered sex.

I argued for my article's life and the editor, a friend of mine, gave me back most of what had been chopped, saying it had been given to a few subeditors with a particular interest (read: dogmatism) in domestic violence.

Goddamn but I hate dogmatism. As if there's one particular ideology that is World's Best Practice for thought. When was the last time the Left was able to produce an overall world view? A correct view? Isn't it debate that drives things forwards. Debate, not fucking censorship. Not primly choosing the words designed to minimise impact, designed not to offend. No wonder the Left is so lethargic and boring. Like all moralisers, they've simply stopped thinking.

That same day, the editor sent me an article to see what I thought; he prefaced it by saying it had rant tendencies, and made the mistake of telling me it was written by one of the people who sucked the life out of mine. She was writing on the Industrial relations changes, coming straight from the Howard-Is-Hitler school. Beginning from reasonable premises - the IR changes will threaten the minimum wage - she ended up by suggesting the anti-terror sedition laws will make striking illegal. She slagged off the new Fair Pay Commission's leader for being Christian. Not for being hypocritically Christian, just for being Christian. Needless to say, a vengeful gleam in my eye appeared and I had a lot of fun inserting fierce objections in red and suggesting that her excesses be reined in. An hour later, I felt a tad guilty and hypocritical and replaced some of her borderline arguments.

On Sunday, I went to volunteer my services as a proofreader, and the editor introduced me. Doug, this is C and A. They were the ones who edited your article. He didn't mention the fact that the article I'd sliced belonged to A, but I knew, and perhaps she did too, and there was much shamefaced mooching and eyes slipping past each other. Editing is a lot of power. I wonder how many noses I've put out of joint in my time.