Conversations regarding harassment within the comics community, and the accountability for that harassment, have reached a fever pitch. Professionals and commentators have spoken more openly about the sexual harassment of creators and editorial staffers by fellow creators, editors and executives. On her personal blog, No Mercy writer Alex de Campi wrote, “I am sick to death of corporate comics telling me they caaare about me and my lady-dollar as a reader, and then continuing to employ/protect known harassers.” Within two weeks, journalist and former Marvel writer Valerie D’Orazio, who said she was forced out of the industry by a campaign of harassment that had few repercussions, wrote, “The list of female talent and editors who have been pushed out of this industry is huge. It’s a scandal, and I don’t see it really ending until the way comics themselves are produced, distributed, and promoted changes.” While these conversations are not new—The Beat’s Heidi MacDonald recalls several instances of similar discourse springing up intermittently since 2006—they are becoming more frequent and more prominent, due largely to the proliferation of new media. Social channels have enabled the historically unheard to speak openly, bolstered by the rise of a new generation of journalists and critics deploying more objective measures.
What all of this new conversation actually means, however, is still up for debate. While some perceive the unprecedented dialogue as a boon with some downsides, others consider it as downright malignant with fleeting perks. Cartoonist and writer about comics Sarah Horrocks says these channels cultivate a “mob culture…which largely seeks to fan its own flames of outrage to an undefined end, without perspective, largely for its own weekly entertainment.” Horrocks’ isn’t alone in her views—author Jon Ronson’s recent book, So You’ve Been Publicly Shamed, is dedicated to excoriating that culture. Less common, however, is the perspective that this discourse actually leads to a hard conclusion. Writer Brian Wood, who was accused of sexually harassing Rat Queens artist Tess Fowler, sent an unsolicited newsletter, which Horrocks was addressing in her remarks, to writers, artists and journalists. The very first line? “It’s going to end with someone killing themselves.” Wood never asserts that this is an intended consequence, but describes suicide as a “natural end to all this…”
The claim describes the severity of the dialogue and is designed to cool the discourse, even if it obscures the circumstances. Wood follows up his suicidal prophesying by saying that people are seeking “empathy,” which is consistent with Valerie D’Orazio’s initial broaching of her harassment by X-Men ’92 and ComicsAlliance writer Chris Sims: “I think Sims totally has the right to write his X-Men comic… For a living I help others tell their unique stories in comic book form—and every story is important.” But Wood insists that the open-ended nature of these conversations enables those who lack empathy. If people intent on exposing predators and harassers can’t articulate a specific—and benevolent—goal, what possible outcome could they expect?
Well, a reasonable outcome, as a few voices have offered. Nick Hanover, who in full-disclosure, I have written for and am friends with, makes the goal explicit: “eliminating protectors of predators and outmoded structures that hide their bad behavior.” While the ambiguity of language allows for a more sinister reading, the gist is basic: standing HR policies need to be enforced, editors should cease assigning work to offenders and comics as a culture should cultivate an open conversation without fear of reciprocation or shaming.
Unfortunately, that shift is unlikely to happen anytime soon. Take the most recent, and one of the highest-profile manifestations, of this problem: the accusations levied at Scott Allie, former editor-in-chief and current Senior Executive Editor of Dark Horse Comics. Allie, who apologized for an incident at this year’s San Diego Comic Con. Allie, who reportedly bit and inappropriately touched creators under the influence of alcohol, is still with the company. Mike Richardson, founder and owner of Dark Horse, issued a statement in response:
I also want to make one thing very clear: Dark Horse as a company, and myself as an individual, take the kinds of inexcusable incidents reported by [Janelle] Asselin very seriously—doubly so when it involves one of our employees. In cases such as these, we have been proactive in our response, with a variety of professional services involved, all with the goal of changing behavior. Additionally, a number of internal responses are acted upon, including termination if such behavior continues. Under no circumstance is any individual “harbored.” In this particular case, action was taken immediately, though we did not, and cannot, perform a public flogging, as some might wish.
The accusation and admission that Allie was under the influence of alcohol makes his case inherently more complicated. Alcoholism is acknowledged under the Americans with Disabilities Act. While it’s impossible to know the factor this plays internally, Dark Horse appears to follow the precedent established in Rogers v. Lehman, which provides a five-step sequence of action an employer can take—beginning with the offer for counseling. Discharge isn’t allowed until treatment has been completed and a relapse has occurred; an employer cannot simply fire an employee suffering from alcoholism if that person “is qualified to perform the essential functions of the job.” Who determines what that bar is remains murky, because it’s a subjective left up to the individual’s employer, a standard unenforceable by anyone who may be an objective party to the situation. And there lies the rub—a wrinkle that recurs in discourse surrounding harassment. If this were an isolated incident, it would be merely unfortunate, but Allie’s situation is simply a recent anecdote that illustrates a larger, systemic point.
Like other instances, Allie’s case falls within the realm of intercompany (and personal) politics. There is no version of this that is objective. And in this realm of subjectivity, emotionally-motivated decision making can influence outcomes; not just in Allie’s case, but in all of these situations. In any instance where someone is accused of harassment or professional misconduct, the accusers and the people responsible for punishing them are forced to consider the accused’s actions in the context of their relationships. Maybe they’ve worked together for years, met each other’s families, shared meals or mutual struggles—all things that solidify lasting relationships.
Tom Spurgeon of The Comics Reporter offers his own take on how to end this cycle:
My guess is that comics may not have the constitution to seriously work through these issues because of how closely its culture is driven by personal and social need, in the same way that issues of aggressive violence are difficult for a wider US culture that’s fear- and entitlement-driven. It may be, then, that it’s going to take a brave figure to stand up and sue the bejesus out of an individual, their supervisor, their company, the host of a party, the setting of a party, the convention under whose auspices this takes and five or six people I can’t think of at 3:20 in the morning.
And he’s not wrong. The Supreme Court of the United States of America considers incorporated entities people, and like people, corporations tend to operate within a framework of “permissible unless otherwise stated,” which is to say they believe they can unless they’re shown they can’t. “Many companies have codes of ethics, mission statements, commitments to social and environmental responsibility, etc,” says Roy Lewicki, ethics expert and Irving Abramowitz Memorial Professor Emeritus at Ohio State University’s Fisher College of Business. “They use these to guide decision making about a variety of issues. However, they are not REQUIRED to have them…” And while Lewicki insists that “[An organization] maintains its credibility by practicing what it preaches,” he also acknowledged that companies may lack a stated ethical imperative, or they may disregard it. This places the ethical obligations of corporations in a non-existent limbo—some may have them and adhere to them, but there’s no legal precedent for them being penalized if they were to ignore them. The only appeal is to a corporation’s “conscience.”