Many Neil Gaimans

It is a strange sense of déjà vu. Just like the hallowed five stages of grief, we see the same emotional outburst play out in public. First the disbelief. Then the anger. Then the cancelling. Then the sorrow. And, finally, the acceptance. Once, again, we see a public hero—of our making—come crashing down from the podium built on our adulation. This will once again be followed by the tedious discussion of art versus the artist, and on whose side we stand.

This time it is Neil Gaiman, beloved author. A few months ago it was the fame-adjacent actor  Justin Baldoni. Last year it was Alice Munro, not only a beloved author, but also a literary icon and a Nobel Prize winner.

The accusations against each of them are different and particular. Munro was seen as complicit in the abuse of one of her daughters by her second husband. Baldoni’s co-star of This Ends with Us, Blake Lively, has accused him of sexual harassment, retaliation for reporting harassment and for allegedly orchestrating a smear campaign against her. And earlier this week, according to an article in New York magazine, several women accused Gaiman—the best-selling author—of sexual abuse and assault. Munro did not get a chance to defend herself, as her daughter spoke out only after her death. Baldoni and Gaiman, as expected, have claimed no wrongdoing, and claim they are innocent. It is once again a battle of ‘she said’ versus ‘he said’.

Invariably, there will be those who side with the accuser and those who side with the accused, there will be allegations and counter allegations and denials and refusals. This was especially clear in the Baldoni versus Lively case, where initially it seemed Baldoni had controlled the “narrative” and Lively could do no right.

One’s surprise is not that another famous actor has been accused by women. But rather one’s surprise is reserved for those who felt this was not in the realm of possibility; how could Gaimnan—our hero—do this. Munro’s stories and books told us time and again that humans are messy and that families are imperfect. Her stories reminded us that there were no blacks and whites and instead we were all just spectrums in grey bumbling our way through the business that is life.

Gisèle Pelicot’s case in France shook the world and she came to be seen as feminist icon. While the horrors played out on her body are all too well known, what needs to be asked is—who were the men? These were 50 ‘regular’ men in one small, rural neighbourhood, who were apparently willing to accept a casual invitation to have sex with an unknown woman as she lay, unconscious, in a stranger’s bedroom. It is easy to make a case for ‘monsters’, when the evil is extreme. But how do we deal with ‘regular’ men and ‘everyday’ evil? And don’t we need to accept that evil is much more omnipresent than we wish to accept? Or do we all simply want to live in a world of delusion and denial, and believe that ‘evil’ is perpetrated only by a distant ‘other’?

It may be that personally we have not encountered perpetrators or that we believe in the intrinsic good of people. But do not we all have stories/incidents/experiences of violation? Then why are we surprised when a famous person is accused of wrongdoing and abuse?

Fame endows people with a sense of bravado that we lay people lack. Power ennobles men to act in ways that they would not otherwise. It is fame that coddled the Harvey Weinsteins of the world for so long, and allowed him to ride above the rules that dictate normal human interactions. It is we the public who make heroes of artists. And therein lies the rub. We need to see them as fallible humans who will exploit their power. They are perhaps more imperfect than most of us, because fame gives them an arrogance and sense of immunity that most of us perhaps lack. What sets them apart from us is that they can create great art.

One is not condoning their violations for a second. But all one is saying is—let’s stop being surprised when our icons fall. Because they will, time after time. It is just a question of—who next?

Alice MunroauthorsBlake Livelyicons fallNeil GaimanThis Ends with UsWeb Exclusive