14 July 2026 - 7:00am
In 2017, at the height of #MeToo, the journalist Moira Donegan put together a document called Shitty Media Men. Anonymous contributors added allegations of sexual misconduct by male colleagues in the media industry. The tactic was defended on the basis that this might be the only form of justice victims could expect. The list was active for 12 hours before being taken down. Stephen Elliott, one of the writers featured on it, later sued Donegan for defamation and went on to receive a six-figure settlement.
As feminist stories go, it is not a particularly edifying one. In its origins, #MeToo had validity: male predatory behaviour is widespread and all too often women and girls aren’t believed. One way victims are discredited is by insisting that accusations are motivated by jealousy, ambition and the desire to bring a good man down. This is rarely true, not least given the poor treatment of those who do speak out. Donegan’s list, however, fed into this myth. Social exclusion and professional ostracism were the desired outcomes for those it named. It might have felt like a way of beating the old boy network, but in the end it didn’t serve women well.
Could there be similar issues with the “dossier of predatory and bullying MPs” due to be handed over to Andy Burnham ahead of his appointing his first government? The explicit purpose of this dossier is to ensure “toxic” men are kept out and to enable, in the words of one of the drafters, “a fresh start […] without inappropriate men bringing down the government and dragging the government through scandal after scandal”. Entries to the list can be submitted anonymously, ranging from those “who have been accused by colleagues and staff of unwanted sexual attention, harassment and bullying, and also those who are ‘not very nice people’”.
Already and perhaps understandably, according to the Times, concerns have been expressed that the list could be used improperly to further grudges. A list of all those facing formal allegations would be one thing, but who decides what counts as “not very nice”? There is obviously a fear that some may invent accusations to further their careers, but there is also the possibility that this isn’t the way to challenge a broader culture of misogyny and manipulation. It’s a way of seeking to sideline the “bad” men without any engagement with the broader problem of how women are treated in politics.
It’s worth noting that the dossier comes at a time when countless women, both in and outside politics, have had their careers and social networks seriously undermined by accusations of “badness”. Lists of bad people are not just some grassroots feminist response to formalised male power. Witness, for instance, Amnesty International UK’s list of “anti-rights” organisations, which included a rape crisis centre, organisations for LGB people and women’s rights groups. Trans rights activism has taken the idea of victimhood as currency and used it to launch a devastating attack on feminists as supposed aggressors. Yes, anyone can create a list themselves, but the anonymity considered to be protective can serve as a cover for lies.
When the Shitty Media Men list came out, I knew many female journalists facing extreme misogyny from males who would never appear on said list, because they were the “wrong” sort of “bad” person. Now I wonder what position those contributing to the “predatory and bullying MPs” list take on men who smear women for their position on sex-based rights or grooming gangs.
These are grubby tactics, ones which, far from challenging harassment, avoid any real engagement with why we have an environment in which predatory, sleazy men may indeed prosper. It’s not because we haven’t put their names in a dossier yet. It’s because this is a culture that prioritises competing victim narratives over clear, consistent respect for women’s rights, in this workplace and every other.
