Saving feminism from itself: Feminism Against Progress, by Mary Harrington, reviewed
Can this fresh vision for feminism save a movement from civil war? Felice Basbøll wonders.
Feminism is precariously riding the crest of its fourth wave, suffering from dwindling public support and in somewhat of an internal crisis. From the variety that dominates the university campus which sees anything and everything as a function of the oppressive patriarchy to the TERFs, most of whom don’t even self-identify as feminists, it’s hard to keep track. Who are the real feminists, and are they ultimately a force for good? Crucially, are they still advancing women’s rights or has that become subservient to a progressive ideology? These are the issues that Mary Harrington’s new book, Feminism Against Progress (Swift Press), grapples with. Part of a recent trend towards a feminism that is critical of the sexual revolution, it is an engaging read that will make you question what you thought you knew about women’s rights and the long, complex history of these hard-won rights.
Since the early days of the movement, the feminist story has been coupled with a distinct narrative of progress and the two seem hard to separate. For good reason, few modern women have the desire to return to the domestic sphere and most view the historical exclusion of women from the public sphere, along with all the cruelty that facilitated, as nothing short of barbaric. Yet Harrington tells a markedly different and more nuanced history of the female, challenging the notion that before our era women were nothing but property and slaves to their male counterparts. From work moving outside the home in the wake of the industrial revolution to the invention of the birth control pill, hers is the story of technological, rather than moral, development.
A former member of the church of what she calls ‘progress theology’, she interweaves the rise and fall of her own ‘queer-theory-inflected, double-liberal, anti-hierarchical idealism’ with her qualms about modern feminism. The results are engaging and often rather humorous. She argues that the pursuit of gender equality has become too focused on individual freedom and autonomy at the expense of women’s actual interests. Toeing the same line as gender-critical feminists like Louise Perry, she is scathing about the sexual revolution and despairs at the increasing commodification of sex and women’s bodies.
Her unflinching dedication to what seems like an obvious point — namely, that men and women are not just floating brains but embodied beings — has never been more pertinent and results in the strongest arguments in the book. In a world that is increasingly online and fragmented, where any desired identity can take precedence on a fleeting whim, it is a refreshing reality check. Our minds are inseparable from the bodies they come with, and rather than continuously modifying our bodies under the regime of what she calls ‘Meat Lego Gnosticism’, she suggests rejecting the transhumanist revolution (the increasing trend of using technology to enhance the human body). For her, this revolution started way before the current boom of body modification, plastic surgery and even outsourcing of child-bearing, with the seemingly innocuous birth control pill.
Some of Harrington’s arguments do carry a slight tinge of the patronising undertones increasingly seen in other strands of modern feminism. In her chapter on rewilding sex, she argues, among other things, that the current (supposedly) risk-free sexual climate makes women consent to sex out of politeness. As if we need physical barriers and pregnancy scares to avoid succumbing, not to our very real sexual desires, but our lurking female docility.
It is true that women may sometimes sleep with men to be polite and regret it afterwards. But just as often, we sleep with men because we’re drunk and/or horny, and still regret it — just like men. Many of the women she references went through this phase to arrive naturally at what can only be characterised as a more mature sexual morality, and granted, it’s what could be called a steep learning curve. However, maybe Harrington and others who have turned against their promiscuous pasts overlook the fact that it may be an important step in the attempt to save younger women from hurt feelings, and, God forbid, some bad sex.
Having said that, Feminism Against Progress doesn’t argue for the banning of casual sex, a forceful de-platforming of the pill nor the futile cancellation of the uncancellable sexual revolution. Instead, it encourages the reader to step back and assess the impact of an unexamined faith in progress on our own lives, arguably a much more daunting prospect. If the arc of history will not necessarily bend towards justice (and it does not), we cannot just mindlessly conform to prevailing narratives, but must examine our choices. The moral life involves consideration, not just blind assumptions. And refreshingly, Harrington’s solutions are not focused on distant governmental policy but on the individual, encouraging women to take back control of their bodies and their lives after realising that progress isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Changing history is neither possible nor desirable. This is something both current progressivism and romanticised conservatism fail to understand. But changing the future is our prerogative, and for Harrington, that doesn’t always mean progress.
Feminism Against Progress is published by Swift Press (£16.99).
Felice Basbøll is studying politics and history at Trinity College Dublin.