MenAreGood
On Frank Zappa and moral hysteria; a rant
Moiret Allegiere
August 31, 2022

On Frank Zappa and moral hysteria; a rant:

Back in the 1970’s, the phenomenal musician (and professional grumpy bastard), Frank Zappa, was asked a fairly simple question.

Not only was it a simple question; it was one of such monumental stupidity and entitlement that it could only ever have come from the quivering lips of a ferocious feminist scorned: why was this terrible misogynistic male so mean to women in his lyrics?

Now, anyone who has spent any amount of time listening to Frank Zappa will have noticed a few things about his music, his lyrics and – perhaps – the man himself;

1: he was god-damned brilliant. I would dare say he was a genius, though I admit to being a drooling fanboy of his, and as such very biased in his favour. I even named my first dog after him. (She is a bitch, and a tiny chihuahua. Somehow, it seemed rather fitting.)

2: His lyrics kick in all directions. Nothing is ever sacred and absolutely no-one is safe. He himself stated that “Yes – my lyrics are stupid. So what?”

In the musical world of Frank Zappa, lyrics was a necessary evil – a thing that had to be present in music in order for the music to sell, as so very few people listen solely to instrumental music. They were, in fact, nothing but a means to an end. Thus, silly, absurd and comedic lyrics became his thing. Because why the hell not?

In reply to the question, he answered that women need to learn how to take their lumps, same as men.

And this is absolutely true.

There is the thing of it, I think: feminism may very well preach equality – women in general may very well preach equality; may claim to very much be in favour of equal treatment of the sexes, thank you very much, it is the current year, after all.

Yet what is said and what is done are two quite different things. I believe a thing people have to learn as quickly as possible is that people’s words and people’s actions are quite often not the same. Quite the contrary. They clash and they crash very often. Human beings are complex and intricate creatures, filled with internal contradictions and inconsistencies. This is just part of human nature, I suppose.

It is not always easy to practice what one preaches, though I would sorely wish to see more people do so. This, however, requires a lot of introspection and “soul-searching”. This seems to be rather difficult at the present moment, as narcissism is on the rise and everything is always someone else’s fault. As is so often the case, people are not even aware of their failure to walk the talk, to practice what they preach. Particularly so when feminism has tricked the entirety of the western world into believing that men treat other men with all manner of respect and adoration; with all manner of underhanded deals and preferential treatment and what-have- you’s which they do not grant to women.

This is, as I have come to understand it, psychological projection on part of women in general, and within feminism specifically. They would treat other women preferentially: their in-group bias is way stronger than that of men. So, to their eyes – being unable as all hell to tear their gaze away from their navel – there is no reason why men would behave differently. “We would do this, and so they must also do this”. Add some solipsism into the mix, and you have yourself a cake not fit for human consumption. In fact, it is a cake which they both want to have and to eat.

The fact that Frank Zappa poked fun at men in his lyrics – quite often, and in quite fabulous ways – was forgotten by the feminist scorned, who only noticed women being poked fun at. One assumes that she was quite alright with poking fun at men in general. One also assumes that she did not notice that men were poked fun at because that was a message she agreed with; that this was something inherent to her view of the world and as such was a statement of fact, not a matter of men being ridiculed.

If people were to open their eyes… if people were able to remove their gynocentric blindfolds and see the world proper, the first thing to be noticed would perhaps be a certain elevation – one could almost say deification – of women and of womanhood. Women being sat atop a throne made from delicate and fragile flowers; a throne that would topple and crumble to dust at the slightest breeze. It is not rare to see women – whether blatantly feminist or not – go up in arms at the slightest hint of a joke being cracked at the expense of women, claiming this to be proof definitive of a society that just hates women ever so much, dont’cha’know and so we must have all of this and all of the other to lift women up in this society in which women are hated so much that they get all this preferential treatment… as well as a movement supposedly only for them; a movement that shall hold the monopoly on all things sex and gender; a movement which one must have balls of polished nuclear warheads to dare defy, under pain of social ridicule and death.

Women are hated, so a movement solely for women gets all the say and holds all the sway on all the things.

Makes perfect sense, of course.

And I am the emperor of Norway, keeper of the seven keys and dictator for life in the tiny island nation of Hwat Teh Fcuk.

Poking fun at typical female idiosyncrasies, at female stereotypical behaviour is a big fat no-no, and all who commit this most heinous act are misogynistic poopy-heads whose mother was a hamster and whose father smelled of elderberries. And the feminist hordes will fart in their general direction. All the while saying that we should kill all men and stating with absolute certainty that men, that masculinity, that maleness and whatever else is all that is wrong with the world; that all men must take responsibility for the evil of one man, and so forth and so on. And one can not help but wonder: if merely cracking jokes at the expense of women in general is proof of a society that hates women – what does it say about a society in which it is quite alright for academes to publish deathly serious articles titled “why can’t we hate men”? What does it say about a society in which this article is not only alright to publish, but where the author of said article is being presented as a victim for facing backlash to her blatant hatred of the male sex? A society that hates women and adores men would surely not present a woman that shamelessly presents her hatred of men as a victim of men when men – quite rightfully – react to being hated for nothing but them being men.

Jokes perpetuate negative stereotypes of women, and furthers the oppression of women.

Articles justifying hatred of men – published in mainstream media – is proof that women are hated. I will keep repeating these points until people fucking listen. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

The whole world has gone insane. Completely and utterly insane, locked within a moral hysteria built upon vapid moral grandstanding and virtue-signaling by power-hungry navel-gazers whose values are just as deep and firmly anchored as a loosely knit fart.

Ah, shit, this nonsense is trendy now.

Gotta hop along; social validation is the most important thing in the world, after all.

#MenAreTrash! Am I right, sisters? Now – let me get a crack at that pussy. Shit: men may be trash. But I am the exception to the rule. I consider all other men to be trash because I believe them to think and act exactly like me. Now, let me get a crack at that crack. Maybe some good old fashioned simpering, whimpering and puppy-eyed begging will make it so that she touches my penis….Please touch my penis!

#CancelMen, for fuck sake. What does a brother have to do in order to get laid around here? I’ve been self-flagellating for hours on end, but they’ve only been spitting in my eyes. And I am an ally to the noble cause, for Goddess’ sake. Still permanently othered, of course, being but an ally… but I am an ally to the cause of pussy- power. Even wore the pink pussy-hat, for fuck sake.

Please touch my penis.

Ahem.

Carrying on:

Poking fun at typical male idiosyncrasies – at male stereotypical behaviour – is quite alright. This happens every single day, every which where one should so happen to look. And I am perfectly fine with this, without a doubt. The ability to laugh at oneself is a transformative tool. Empowering, if I may be so bold as to borrow a buzzing phrase from the feminist handbook.

People would do well to not take themselves so damned seriouslyall the time.

What is bothering, on the other hand, is the feminist hive-mind having fits of hysteria whenever a woman is poked fun at. What is bothering is – as is so often the case – the blatant double-standard of the thing; the hypocrisy, the idiocy of it all. Add to this the inability of people to see this for what it is: anything but equal treatment. Can’t see the forest for a bunch of pretty little lies and liars squinting at the sun as it pisses in their eyes. Treating the sexes equally does not mean that women should be a protected class of people, never to be made subject to the same mockery and ridicule that men are made subject to.

Just take a look at your average sit-com for examples of this. Or talkshows… day-time television in general, for that matter. Men are bumbling fools, not elevated moral guardians such as women are.

This notion that preferential treatment of women equals equal treatment of the sexes ties very nicely and neatly into a study done by one Amy Yeung (https://uwspace.uwaterloo.ca/handle/10012/6958 ), in which it is revealed that women consider it to be sexist when men treat women worse than they would treat other men, that women consider it sexist when men treat women just as they would treat other men… considering it only to be equal treatment when men treat women better than they would treat men.

I find this very interesting, as it explains the squeaks, squawks, cuckoos and cackles, moans, marbles, howls and rise of feminism in no small way. It explains perfectly well how a movement can push for preferential treatment and label this as equal treatment. Women view preferential treatment of women to be equal treatment of women. So-called “benevolent sexism” is still detrimental to women, of course. Because what isn’t? Yet they push for it. Who can fathom the feminine mind? Not my wife, that’s for damned sure. By her own admission.

It’s OK, brothers – my wife is an honorary man; a de facto member of the Patriarchy. Our greatest secretary and coffee fetcher, in fact.

Oh boy, I’m going to the special feminist circle of hell for that one.

Not that I believe feminism, or most women, really, able to see this for what it is. I don’t believe most men are willing to see this for what it is either. For women are precious, and must be protected and one can not make fun of women for exactly that reason.

Besides, it supposedly lowers ones chances of getting laid, and men have drives, desires and needs, god-dammit(!) Dick Hardy is a most potent negotiator. Too bad he is fucking brain-dead.

No matter, never mind.

She Said! He said! Chivalry is far from dead!

And if chivalry is dying; if men treat women equally… if men treat women like they would treat other men, articles start popping up from wherever and whatever mourning the death of chivalry and oh and woe-is-me, but where oh where have all the good men gone?

Of course men should pay on dates – women deserve to be taken care of and feel special. But the relationship has to be equal; step up, men, and do your part of everything… whilst paying for everything.


What, women doing their part? Nah, that is just some patriarchal entitlement – yet another unreasonable expectation of women… male entitlement to this and that and the other, as a matter of fact.

Fuck you. Suck my balopticon.

Men should not enjoy their women having an orgasm – that is peak male entitlement right there. Imagine finding enjoyment in ones partner being given enjoyment by oneself. Shock and horror!

Still: women should damned well have at least one orgasm for every ride into funky-town, thank you very much. Just don’t enjoy it while you’re at it, boy. No-one cares if your jaw is frozen solid and your hand is cramping up; get to it, buddy!

What; you want pointers?

Nah, man, you’ve got to know your way around a woman’s body by instinct and intuition alone… Imagine the entitlement in wanting a woman to tell you what she enjoys and how to do it proper… the pure nerve of expecting a woman do something in the sack – goodness gracious, what prime male entitlement this is! Also – fleshlights and sexbots are objectifying women and mass-manufacturing rapists, and so to do porn and masturbation is akin to cheating and, hey, where are you going? Oh, my, why can’t I ever find a good and decent man?

People in glass-houses can not smell their own shit. Instead of listening to what is being said when feminism – when this entitled behaviour – is criticised, they jump into the very same aforementioned hysterics, put words in your mouth and pull strawmen out of their own arse to set on fire. Screaming that women are not hysterical, but perfectly rational and capable of reasonable discussion, fuck you very much and besides, you make her feel threatened and unsafe by your mere presence, fuck-face.

Add a solitary screech about “PATRIARCHY!!?!!?!?!!!” in there, and we have ourselves a winner, ladies and germs. Men have to accept jokes made at the expense of men in general. Televised stereotypes of men? Ain’t nothing wrong with that. To which I would agree, in all honesty. Reverse the sexes, and the shit-show begins. Apparently, men are capable of humour and of laughing at themselves, whereas women are not. Is it masculinity that is fragile, then, or is it perhaps femininity?

#FemininitySoFragile.

Back in my facebook-days, I was part of a Facebook-group that focused on record-collecting and HiFi equipment. As one would expect, men being far more object-oriented than women, this group was overwhelmingly male. I would hazard a guess at it being 98 percent male.

The discussions on records, music and equipment went as one would expect. Typical male banter; friendly insults and the like.

“What the hell kind of piece of shit equipment is that to play that record on? This record deserves tubes blown by the exotic virgins of lala-land and gold-plated cables, handspun by the queen of England, for fuck sake – bunch of amateurs in here.”

You know what kind of friendly banter I am referring to. All in good fun.

And it was good fun, while it lasted.

For, you see, the feminists entered the room; probably smelling a predominantly male space populated by horrible men in dire need of being civilised by the elevated morals of womanhood; a goddess in the guise of feminism come to save these barbarian men from themselves. Come to make sure the good ol’ boys don’t have too much unsupervised fun.

Though I can not prove this, I will dare state that the sole reason for these two feminists being in this group was tone-policing and feminist propaganda, as the only damned thing they posted in there had to do with women and with feminism.

Even when posting pictures of their records or whatever, they always included some fucking feminist “factoid” alongside the picture. Seemed rather planned, if I am to be perfectly honest.

Every day with that shit; feminism me here and pay-gap me there and horrible titties on the covers or on posters on people’s wall over there, making it such an unsafe and non-inclusive group for the women in the group and no wonder there were so few women there and so-and-such and blah-di-blah and shame the male for he is a true bastard-barbarian. How fucking entitled does one have to be to demand people remove posters that are deemed offensive by fragile feminists from their own walls in their own bloody homes? Feminist-levels of entitlement. And fragility.

#FemininitySoFragile

Whenever a woman enters a predominantly male space, it is expected that the men therein shall alter their behaviour so as to not offend her. It does not matter how many men there are in the space or in the group: the word of this one woman has to be law. And, by damn and fuck-me-right-in-the-back-ear: men agree and comply and alter their behaviour to suit the woman, for some ridiculous reason. Female entitlement is enforced by men. There is no denying this. You are allowed to say no to women, you know. Even Dick Hardy is allowed to do just that. In fact, Dick hardy must be encouraged to do just that. So much of this god-damned shit is on our shoulders, gentlemen. You don’t have to put up with it, you know.

So I left this group. After about a week of seeing these two women – might have been one woman with two accounts, come to think of it – constantly posting feminist nonsense, I had just about had it. Then I reached my tipping point, the scales were waxed and the shit slid off and hit the fan, spreading it way more than anyone should accept.

One dude in the group had the nerve, you see, had the unmitigated audacity to refer to Yoko Ono as “the bitch that ruined the Beatles”.

Oh boy.

Oh my.

Oh girl.

Oh fragile femininity supreme.

What a shit-show that turned out to be; a macabre and grotesque cabaret. The feminist footsoldiers came rolling in, floating on the wind by virtue of their bingowings, frothing at the mouth, spittle flying every-which-where, demanding the post be removed, claiming that this group was nothing but a bunch of misogynists; a sorry nest of gender-fascists, in fact.

Yes.

They actually used the term “gender-fascists”.

This, then, was the moment they had been waiting for. Finally, they could spring into action on behalf of scorned women everywhere; women who have to put up with female artists being disliked like male artists are disliked. What horror was this?

Irrational emotionally laden screeching followed. A woman can not be criticised. Not even a female artist. One has to worship the ground she walks on. Any one man can not have any one individual opinion on any one woman; neither the woman nor her caterwauling – that is to say, her art – may be subject to criticism. For any critique of a woman, or her art, necessarily must mean that one hates all women by virtue of their sex. And this has to reflect on the entirety of the group, for men – as we all well know – are a homogeneous blob; a mass of testosterone and brawn and perfectly erect penises that have neither solitary opinions nor individual personalities.

And so many guys in that group simpered and drooled and fell to their knees in abject shock and horror; apologizing profoundly and profusely on behalf of the group. A few brave men dared defy the feminine deity that had entered the space; but the damage was done, the battle was won and the female tyranny reigned supreme that day. All the men had learned of their folly and been given a whipping for their insolence in talking back to their superiors.

Earlier that day, I had posted a picture of Warren Zevon’s phenomenal album “the Wind”. I referred to Warren Zevon as a complete and utter arsehole; a narcissistic bastard with no redeeming qualities except his incredible musical and lyrical talent. He was then, and remains still, one of my favourites. Quite possibly the greatest songwriter to have ever graced this green earth. Second only to Townes van Zandt. Other guys in the group agreed. Other guys in the group had posted similar things about other male
musicians.

No-one reacted with anger or hostility, or claimed that we were just hating on men for them being men. Not even the feminists in the group.

Imagine my shock.

Criticising a female artist, on the other hand, means that the entirety of the group hates women.

Women in male spaces can not help but destroy the male spaces, it seems. Helped very much by the simpering men therein. Much like Yoko Ono, in fact. Women really need to learn how to take their lumps, how to take criticism. Women need to learn that criticism of one woman does not equate to hatred of all women everywhere.
… Much like Yoko Ono, in fact.

Moiret Allegiere

Moiret Allegiere (Born 1986) hails from Norway. A self-described scribbler of lines, juggler of words and weird pseudo-hermit, he became so concerned with the state of the world that he left his long and deliberate hibernation to wreak bloody havoc on the world of fine art and literature.

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Part 3: Consent, the Only Sexual Norm Left




Part 3: Consent, the Only Sexual Norm Left

Follow the public argument over the Cornell case, or almost any campus sexual assault case, and you’ll notice something. It turns on a single question: was there consent? Other moral questions about the same night barely come up. When someone raises them, they’re usually heard as irrelevant, or as blaming the victim.

Why is consent the only question we can see?

 

Three ideas, briefly

The Family Archetype is the moral logic of a family: protect the vulnerable, care before proof. The Society Archetype is the moral logic of public life: fair procedure, evidence before judgment, individuals responsible for what they did. Matrisensus is the family’s logic taking over public life. It treats groups as victims or villains, and it keeps those it sees as vulnerable innocent by placing all the guilt elsewhere.

 

Consent, and one other

Consent isn’t quite alone. One other sexual norm still gets attention: power. Universities ban relationships between professors and students even when both consent, and #MeToo focused heavily on bosses and subordinates. But power and consent have the same shape. Both put all the moral responsibility on one person’s conduct toward the other: the one who initiated, the one with more power, the one who didn’t get a clear yes.

 

What disappeared

The norms that have faded have the opposite shape. Dignity, sobriety, modesty, fidelity, prudence and self-respect are norms of self-governance. They ask what each person owes to herself, as well as to the other: Did I keep my judgment clear? Does this honor what sex is meant to be? Am I protecting my own worth?

For most of history, these norms did most of the work of sexual morality, and they applied to both people. They didn’t wait for harm and then assign blame. They shaped behavior beforehand, so harm was less likely.

 

Why only consent survives

Here’s the key. Consent is the only sexual norm that fits Matrisensus, because it’s the only one that keeps the protected person completely innocent.

A norm like sobriety or dignity can’t do that. It looks at the choices of the person Matrisensus wants to protect: what she drank, what she risked, what she agreed to. Even mentioning such a norm puts some responsibility on her, so the norm simply stops being seen. Nobody argues against it. It just becomes invisible. Consent passes the test perfectly. Whatever happened, the moral question becomes what the other person did to her. An ethics of consent alone is the only sexual ethics in which innocence and guilt always belong to different people.

There’s a second reason. Consent is the only sexual norm decided by feeling. Sobriety and fidelity are about what you do, which others can see. Consent is about an inner state: did she want it? No one else can check that, and it can be reassessed afterward, as feelings about a night change. When consent is the only standard, what an encounter meant is no longer fixed by what happened. It depends on how one person later feels about it.

And there’s an irony. Consent actually comes from the Society Archetype. It’s a kind of contract: a mutual agreement between adults, judged by what each did and said at the time, with each responsible for their part. What Matrisensus keeps is a version stripped of what made it fair. The mutual agreement becomes one person’s inner state, the time of agreement becomes any later moment, and the shared responsibility falls on one person.

 

How we got here

This isn’t mysterious. The sexual revolution rejected marriage, chastity, modesty and courtship as tools of control. Consent was what was left, because both sides of the new culture could accept it. For those who wanted freedom, it was the limit: anything goes between consenting adults. For those who wanted protection, it was also the limit: no harm without consent. Consent is where “anything goes” and “protect the vulnerable” meet.

 

Three levels of desire

It helps to see desire as working on three levels, each meant to guide the one below it. The first is appetite: wanting pleasure, comfort, recognition. The second is self-control: the desire for order and mastery over ourselves. The third is meaning: the desire for purpose and for contributing to something beyond ourselves. A healthy life doesn’t abolish appetite. It puts appetite under self-control, and self-control in service of meaning.

Consent is permission between two appetites. It lives entirely on the first level. The older sexual morality guided that appetite from both levels above. Chastity, sobriety, modesty and prudence belong to the second level: they’re practices of self-control. Dignity, fidelity and the sense that sex is sacred belong to the third. They place sex inside something larger than one night: a committed relationship, the beginning of families and generations, the worth of a person and not just her pleasure.

An ethics built on consent alone has thrown out both upper levels at once. Self-control is dismissed as repression, and meaning as superstition. What’s left is appetite, with nothing above it but permission.

 

What this costs

The older norms protected in advance. Staying sober, taking time, staying among friends, all made harm less likely before any question of permission came up. Consent only protects after the fact, by judging what went wrong. Women lost protective norms and were given a courtroom norm in their place.

Harms that aren’t consent violations — degradation, being used with your agreement at the time, the emptiness of a night both people regret — no longer have any moral language. The only way to name them is to call them a consent violation. So ambiguous encounters get forced into two boxes: assault, or nothing. That’s why cases like Cornell become battlegrounds, and why the definition of consent keeps stretching to cover harms it was never built to carry.

This isn’t only a conservative argument. Christine Emba, in Rethinking Sex, argues that consent is necessary but not enough, and that a consent-only ethics has failed women. Louise Perry makes a similar case in The Case Against the Sexual Revolution.

To be clear: consent matters, and violating it is a serious wrong. The point isn’t that consent is unimportant. It’s that a culture that can see only consent has lost the norms that protected women before consent was ever in question, and has lost the language even to notice what that has cost.

 

One pattern

Across this series, the same thing has happened three times. Hard cases become battlegrounds because their meaning is open, and open meaning is where the fight between protective feeling and fair judgment gets fought. Juries falter in exactly those cases, because a shared moral story produces the shared blind spot that defeats the reason juries exist. And sexual morality has shrunk to consent, because consent is the one norm that keeps the protected person innocent.

Each time, feeling has moved from signal to verdict. The answer isn’t less feeling. A culture that stopped caring about the vulnerable would be worse than ours. The answer is putting feeling back where it belongs: the first word, not the last. Mercy after truth, not instead of it. And judgment that can still see a particular person and a particular act, rather than the story they seem to fit.

David Shackleton

____________________________

David Shackleton is a writer and cultural commentator whose work focuses on identity politics and gender. His books, Matrisensus, The Hand That Rocks the World: An Inquiry Into Truth, Power and Gender, and Daughters of Feminism: Women Supporting Men’s Equality, are available on Amazon. His website is genderhealing.com.



Sources for the series

Part 1

  • Charles G. Lord, Lee Ross, and Mark R. Lepper, “Biased Assimilation and Attitude Polarization,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 37, no. 11 (1979): 2098–2109.

Part 2

  • Marquis de Condorcet, Essai sur l’application de l’analyse à la probabilité des décisions rendues à la pluralité des voix (1785).

  • Franz Dietrich and Kai Spiekermann, “Jury Theorems,” Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy.

  • Christian List and Robert E. Goodin, “Epistemic Democracy: Generalizing the Condorcet Jury Theorem,” Journal of Political Philosophy 9, no. 3 (2001): 277–306.

  • Reporting on the Clancy jury by NBC10 Boston, CBS News, NBC News, and the Boston Globe, August–September 2026.

Part 3

  • Jesse Graham, Jonathan Haidt, and Brian A. Nosek, “Liberals and Conservatives Rely on Different Sets of Moral Foundations,” Journal of Personality and Social Psychology 96, no. 5 (2009): 1029–1046.

  • Nick Haslam, “Concept Creep,” Psychological Inquiry 27, no. 1 (2016): 1–17.

  • Christine Emba, Rethinking Sex: A Provocation (Sentinel, 2022).

  • Louise Perry, The Case Against the Sexual Revolution (Polity, 2022).

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October 30, 2026
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When Feeling Becomes the Verdict Part 2 (David Shackleton)
Part 2: Can a Jury Still Judge?


Part 2: Can a Jury Still Judge?

When the Clancy jury deadlocked, eleven jurors wanted to find her not guilty by reason of insanity. One man refused. Afterward, several jurors described him to the press as “closed off” and unable to explain himself. His lawyer called him heroic for holding his ground. One juror described confronting him forcefully. The defense asked the court to remove him from the jury.

What he was actually thinking is still disputed. But the scene raises a question worth asking: when a whole culture has already sorted people into victims and villains, can a jury still do its job?


Three ideas, briefly

The Family Archetype is the moral logic of a family: protect the vulnerable, care before proof. The Society Archetype is the moral logic of public life: fair procedure, evidence before judgment, individuals held responsible for what they did. Matrisensus is the family’s logic taking over public life, judging people as members of victim or villain groups instead of by what they actually did.


Why juries work

We tend to think of juries as a democratic courtesy, a way of letting ordinary people have a say. But there’s a more precise reason they work, and it was worked out in 1785 by a French mathematician, the Marquis de Condorcet.

His insight was this: if each person in a group is a little more likely to be right than wrong, and each judges independently, then the majority of a group is far more reliable than any one person. Twelve independent judgments, pooled together, beat one expert.

Notice the key word: independently. That’s where it all depends.


When everyone shares the same blind spot

If the jurors don’t judge independently, if they all tend to make the same mistake for the same reason, the advantage disappears. Philosophers who study this have shown it can get worse than that. A jury that shares one blind spot can be less reliable than a single sensible judge, because instead of correcting each other’s errors, the jurors magnify the same one. A bigger jury just repeats the mistake more confidently.

Matrisensus creates exactly this condition. It doesn’t produce twelve people weighing the evidence separately. It produces twelve people applying the same ready-made story to the same facts. A dominant moral outlook doesn’t make people err in different directions. It makes them agree.

And jury selection can’t catch it. Lawyers screen jurors for bias they’re aware of: a conflict of interest, an opinion already formed. But a dominant moral outlook doesn’t feel like bias to the person who holds it. It feels like plain good sense. A juror who holds it will honestly answer “Yes, I can be fair,” and still be wrong in exactly the way the mathematics predicts. You can’t ask someone to disclose a distortion they can’t see.


What the Clancy jury shows

It helps to remember how a criminal trial is built. It doesn’t shut out compassion. It puts compassion in its proper place.

The trial answers a narrow question: did the person do it, and were they capable of being responsible for it? That question is answered from evidence and deliberately protected from sympathy. Only afterward, at sentencing, usually before a judge, do the defendant’s circumstances, history and suffering get weighed in full. Truth first. Mercy after.

An insanity defense brings one narrow question forward into the trial: because of mental illness, could she tell right from wrong, or control what she did? That’s a specific test, decided on evidence.

Several Clancy jurors described reasoning that went around that test. She had been “failed by everyone,” they said; she was “lost in the system.” One said that testimony about what a loving mother Clancy had seemed weighed on her more than the clinical evidence about her state of mind when she killed. That’s sentencing reasoning — sympathy for a whole life — brought into the place reserved for a narrower, harder question.

Then there’s the shape of the deliberations. The jury was nine women and three men, and the lone holdout was its only minority member. Eleven people converged quickly and emotionally on one account. The one person who didn’t was treated less as someone with a view to be considered than as a problem to be fixed. That doesn’t prove the eleven were wrong. It shows what shared judgment looks like from the inside, and how little room it leaves for the one kind of voice a jury most needs: the independent one.


How far this goes

It’s important not to overstate this. In an ordinary contract dispute or burglary trial, nothing triggers a shared moral story, and juries probably work as well as they ever did. The problem shows up in a specific kind of case: one where the parties can be sorted by identity into categories the culture has already judged. That category isn’t small. For those cases, the reason we trust juries may have quietly stopped applying.


Is there a fix?

Not an easy one. Replacing the jury with a judge just puts the same vulnerability in one person, who comes from the same culture. Better instructions can’t reach a bias the juror doesn’t feel as bias. Appeals courts share the same assumptions.

The only real fix is the one that works anywhere: people capable of independent judgment, who can see a case on its own facts instead of the familiar story it seems to fit. That’s a much higher bar than the jury system was designed to require. But it’s the bar we now face.

Next: Part 3 asks why, in arguments about sex, consent is the only question anyone seems able to see.

David Shackleton

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David Shackleton is a writer and cultural commentator whose work focuses on identity politics and gender. His books, Matrisensus, The Hand That Rocks the World: An Inquiry Into Truth, Power and Gender, and Daughters of Feminism: Women Supporting Men’s Equality, are available on Amazon. His website is genderhealing.com.

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October 28, 2026
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When Feeling Becomes The Verdict (by David Shackleton)
Part 1: Why the Hard Cases Become Battlegrounds



Part 1: Why the Hard Cases Become Battlegrounds

This fall, two cases have taken over public argument. In Massachusetts, a jury could not agree whether Lindsay Clancy, who strangled her three young children while suffering what her defense called postpartum psychosis, should be held criminally responsible. Eleven jurors said no. One said yes. The judge declared a mistrial. At Cornell, an accusation against seven young men became a national story, and then a contested one, when the local prosecutor said the woman’s first sworn statement differed substantially from the version that spread online.

Neither case is settled, and I’m not going to argue about what happened in either. I want to ask a different question. Why do some cases become national battlegrounds, while others, often far worse, are reported and forgotten within a week?

Three ideas to start with

People live inside two moral systems, and each is right in its own place.

The Family Archetype is how a family thinks. It protects the vulnerable, gives according to need rather than merit, favors its own, and acts on care before proof. A mother doesn’t ask for evidence before comforting a crying child. In a family, that’s exactly right.

The Society Archetype is how public life among strangers has to work. It relies on fair procedures, evidence before judgment, and holding individuals responsible for what they actually did, not for the group they belong to. A court doesn’t comfort the accuser before establishing the facts. In public life, that’s exactly right.

Matrisensus is what happens when the family’s way of thinking takes over public life. It treats whole groups as victims or villains, rather than judging what particular people did. It keeps the people it sees as vulnerable innocent by placing the guilt elsewhere. It speaks the language of compassion, but it works like a verdict.

It isn’t outrage. It’s ambiguity.

The usual explanation for viral controversies is that outrage gets clicks. But that doesn’t fit the pattern. The clearest, most one-sided cases of wrongdoing rarely become lasting flashpoints. Everyone agrees what happened, and the story fades. The cases that never go away are the ones whose meaning stays open.

Sometimes that’s because the facts are disputed. But often the facts are agreed, and what’s disputed is what they mean. A case with one obvious reading gets absorbed. A case with two live readings can be argued forever.

Psychologists showed why in a classic 1979 study. Charles Lord, Lee Ross and Mark Lepper gave people on opposite sides of an issue the same mixed evidence. Neither side moved toward the other. Both became more certain they were right, because evidence that doesn’t settle its own meaning leaves room for everyone to read it their way.

So the real fight in these cases isn’t usually about the people involved. It’s about a rule. Matrisensus says: believe the designated victim, condemn the designated villain. The question is whether that rule is absolute, or only a starting assumption that has to give way when the evidence goes the other way. A clear case never tests that question, because both moral systems reach the same answer. An ambiguous case is the only place it can be fought out in public. That’s why both sides mobilize so completely. If the rule bends here, it was never absolute. If evidence doesn’t govern here, it doesn’t govern anywhere.

This is an old fight

Social media didn’t start this. It just made it faster.

In 1991, Anita Hill accused Clarence Thomas of sexual harassment during his Supreme Court confirmation hearings. No witness could settle what happened. But even certainty about the facts wouldn’t have settled the deeper question: should an uncorroborated accusation block a confirmation, or does fairness require more? The Senate confirmed him 52 to 48, the closest margin in over a century. Hill is still asked to relitigate it more than thirty years later. Clear cases don’t do that to their witnesses.

In 1998, the facts of Bill Clinton’s affair with Monica Lewinsky were agreed almost immediately. The two-year fight that followed, including an impeachment, was entirely about meaning: was this an abuse of power over a young subordinate, or a private matter? And the sides lined up largely by political loyalty, which shows how often people choose their principle based on the outcome they want.

The pattern ran on through the Duke lacrosse case, the Rolling Stone story about the University of Virginia, the Kavanaugh hearings, and the Covington Catholic incident.


The two current cases

Clancy’s own defense never denied that she killed her children. Her case rested on insanity. Investigators had ruled out her husband, Patrick, with surveillance footage and phone records. Even so, a loud online group insisted that Patrick was the real killer, contradicting the evidence and her own lawyers. That goes beyond arguing about meaning. It refuses to accept facts that are settled, because the only acceptable conclusion is her total innocence. Most of her supporters didn’t go that far; the real legal question, whether her mental state removed criminal responsibility, was genuinely hard. But the fringe shows where the rule leads when it’s held as absolute. It ignores not only uncertain facts, but certain ones.

The Cornell case is different: there, a real factual dispute remains open.

A culture that had settled which moral system governs public judgment wouldn’t need to fight this battle every few years. That we do, reliably, since at least 1991, tells us the question is still open.

One last idea

Underneath all of this is a simple principle about feeling. The feeling that something is wrong is real and valuable. It tells us where to look and what matters. But it is true testimony about the person who feels it, not proof about the world. “I feel harmed” is a fact. “So you harmed me” is a separate question. Feeling deserves the first word. It shouldn’t have the last.

Next: Part 2 asks whether juries can still do their job.

David Shackleton

____________________________

David Shackleton is a writer and cultural commentator whose work focuses on identity politics and gender. His books, Matrisensus, The Hand That Rocks the World: An Inquiry Into Truth, Power and Gender, and Daughters of Feminism: Women Supporting Men’s Equality, are available on Amazon. His website is genderhealing.com.

 

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