February 16, 2025 - 11:30am

Progressive activists may not be entirely consistent in their beliefs, but they are at least fairly predictable in their actions.

Two years ago, when Kathleen Stock made her notorious visit to Oxford, I found myself queueing up outside the event with a friend when we noticed two blue-haired types standing next to us in the line, rummaging through a rucksack full of super glue and trans-activist literature and whispering in audible conspiracy to one another. “I don’t suppose you’re planning to disrupt this event?” we asked them. “Us! No! What makes you think that?” they replied wokely, horrified to have been somehow detected. Half an hour later, a team of uniformed policemen was dutifully peeling one of our new acquaintances off the floor of the Oxford Union.

The habit of putting on a bit of improvised student theatre for visiting sex-realist feminists has become a recent, but widely-observed, tradition at Oxford. So the gender-critical writer Helen Joyce and I knew more or less what to anticipate when we sat down in the main lecture theatre of Balliol College on Thursday evening to conduct an open-ended Q&A for a student-run philosophy society under the title: “Everything you always wanted to know about sex (and gender) *but were afraid to ask”.

Joyce, of course, is a proponent of the allegedly-controversial theory that women are adult human females. That view is arguably the natural default position in the philosophy of sex and gender. The notion that it is not only false, but so dangerous that it cannot be safely expressed, is one of the silliest ideas to have gripped public life in recent years. It is even more shameful in philosophy, a subject in which people have founded entire careers by denying the existence of numbers, causation, material reality and knowledge itself, but many clearly find it much harder to countenance the non-existence of male women.

In a spirit more of hope than expectation, Helen and I publicly urged her opponents at the university to turn up on Thursday and, against habit, present their own arguments, as is the disciplinary norm in philosophy and academia more generally.

Naturally, that is not what happened. Instead, in the run-up to Helen’s visit, the usual dynamic of kitschy overreaction, heavy-handed preference falsification and self-implicating moralism kicked into life. The view, itself harmful and false, that Helen’s beliefs are harmful and false was widely propagated. Cherwell, Oxford’s student newspaper, issued us a right of reply to a long, solemn news story about the “negative reaction” the event was “provoking”. Students wrote to the college accusing it of transgressing the Equality Act by permitting the event to occur on its premises. Another very long and rambling petition, signed by over 600 people, made the ominous recommendation that Judith Butler should be invited to the event in Helen’s place.

Come Thursday evening, I had barely thanked the audience for gathering to engage in the spirit of civilised debate when, falsifying my optimistic appraisal of them with faultless comic timing, two dozen or so disguised protesters rose to their feet. There was a brief display of pride flags and homemade signs, and hurried distribution of some anti-Helen pamphlets, before the troop exited the building, pausing only to bang for a minute on the windows of the lecture room.

This was all very nostalgic. But there was something disarmingly underpowered about it, too. Some of the signs — “Helen Joyce is not an expert at all”, read one — seemed almost comically half-hearted. Our remaining audience had been left a little thinned-out, but also on average better-dressed and more attentive. As the last of the protesters shuffled out, the event was already continuing as if nothing of note had happened — perhaps because everyone realised that, in an important sense, nothing had.

Not for the first time, I wondered how it was possible that, just a few years ago when I was an undergraduate, an entire university cohort had been held ideologically hostage by a comparable faction of vividly lame people. What seems so striking now, looking back, is the collective opportunity cost in time and intellectual energy accepted on behalf of an ideological minority whose basic instincts were so plainly antisocial.

That Helen’s visit this week ultimately went smoothly is an encouraging sign that the unduly censorious mood which has lately possessed academic life may soon come to seem like a short-lived and eccentric blip in its recent history. That said, universities have a way of allowing, even encouraging, bad ideas to live on well past their sell-by date. The regrettable fact remains that someone like Helen Joyce is an example of a figure too little seen within universities these days: a truth-teller. Free speech is an important regulatory norm, as some know and most concede. But it is only really valuable when someone uses it to express important truths.


John Maier is an UnHerd columnist and PhD student at the University of Oxford

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