Let’s talk about something reaaaaally bad. Protecting abusers. When one talks about transformative justice, or opposes carceralism and ostracism in any way, they are bound to face, at some point, someone shouting “you’re just trying to defend abusers !”. And I’ve yet to see someone responding something other than “No, I’m not!”. And I get it. Nobody wants to be seen as being the bad guy, or siding with the bad guy. But there’s a catch, here.

There is a difference between shielding abusers from accountability and protecting them from abuse.
And Transformative Justice means nothing, absolutely nothing, if it not rooted in a firm dedication to protect everyone from abuse, abusers included.

If this idea scares you, I get it.
It’s a frightening idea, indeed, for a handful of reasons.

Because, first, where’s the line?

Where is the line between protecting an abuser from accountability and protecting an abuser from abuse?
Honestly… I don’t know. I guess we’ll have to find out.
But I know there is a line.

Trying to find it is hard, and scary. It require us to make sometimes bold decisions, like, when needed, saying to a victim that they’re being unreasonable and unnecessary destructive in their demands.
It requires us to make decisions that, sometimes, are not accepted by everyone, and that we might regret one day.
It requires us to dirty our hands and lost a little bit of our certainty to make the right decisions or be on the right side of things.
In comparison, to side with whoever is perceived as the victim and fight against whoever is perceived as the bad guy is utterly easier for the mind.
It’s easier to deal with harm and abuse between people when we believe some of them deserve to be harmed because they’re bad – or, more precisely, when we operate under a framework in which nothing done to them can be conceptualized as abuse, because we made them, in our mind, the embodiment of abuse itself.
But that’s… I don’t know, do I really have to explain why it is bad to do so?

But, second, won’t it be weaponized?

Won’t abusers weaponize any commitment to protect them from abuse so that they could avoid accountability? Won’t they use that to be even more abusive, and with the full support of the community no less?
And the answer is: yeah. They will. At least one of them will. They will be people to try to do exactly that, and, among them, people who will succeed. 100% sure of that.
But what’s the alternative?
The alternative is saying that once we’ve proven someone is bad enough, then it’s ok to be abusive towards them.
And the bad guys should accept it, otherwise they’re even worse and deserve even more violence.
And nobody should defend them and care for them, because that would make them bad and deserving violence too.
And so I ask: how that discourse cannot be weaponized by abusers?

I would really like all the events and leftist orgs proudly claiming that they have a “red flag policy” (meaning that they will exclude abusers “no questions asked” if “a victim” comes forward and asks them to do so) to just sit one minute and think about how much this policy, if actually implemented like advertised, is easy to weaponize to abuse and harass. How come our culture can claim that some people are manipulative piece of shit that just want to hurt others, and, as countermeasures, install policies that fully rely on people using them in good faith?

There’s quite a handful of gruesome stories, out there, of horribly wrong relationships where one partner has been accused by the other of abusive behavior (sometimes, rightly so), and, subsequently, accepted constant mistreatments for, sometimes, years. And they accepted everything done to them because they believed they deserved it, because of their bad behavior. That they had no right to stand up for themselves. And they believed the whole queer/feminist/anarchist community would condone the mistreatment, that it would participate in it if their partner came out about their original sin. They sometimes went as far as feeling thankful to their partner for staying silent about what they’ve done. These stories usually end when the “abuser” realizing they should leave this relationship and/or stand up for themselves. And usually – and it kills me every time – this realisation takes the form of a reversal of categories: “oh, I understand now, I’m actually not the abuser here, I’m the victim”.

And it angers me so much. As much as I empathize with the authors of these stories, as much as I feel their pain, which looks a lot like mine, I think they repeat the same ideological pattern that informed the abuse they received in the first place. Because when they claim they actually weren’t the abuser but the victim, they imply that the way they were treated would have been fair if they truly were “the abuser” of the story.

And, you know what?
I’m almost entirely sure their partner didn’t saw themselves as abusers weaponizing a victim status.
I’m almost entirely sure they saw themselves as victims.
And sometimes, they are not even wrong about that.

So, I guess what I’m saying is: if you’re against “protecting abusers”, and you’re comfortable with the ambiguity of this phrasing, then you are, plain and simple, advocating for abuse.
I’m not only saying that you are believing too much in your ability to distinguish who’s the “abuser” and who’s the “victim” in a given situation – including your own ability to realize when you are abusive.
I’m also stating the fact that being abusive towards “an abuser” is still being abusive, and that you have no business opposing them being offered protection against abuse, when they’re not able to protect themselved, if you’re not intending to exploit their vulnerability.

You can be radically against “abusers”.
Or you can be radically against abuse.
You cannot be both.

And I don’t care so much about trying to convince you.

I’m just trying to signal my existence to those, out there, who already know that.
At some point, that’s not even political for me.
It’s just about survival, you know.

Because I’m both a victim of abuse and an abuser.
And as a victim, I need friends, lovers, and a community where I’ll find protection, care and justice.
And as an abuser, I need the exact same things.

And you might believe I don’t deserve protection, care or justice.
That’s all right. You do you.
I’ll just continue to look for people who do believe I deserve no less than that.

I need people around me. Who doesn’t? And what I want is people who will make me face my shit; who will confront me when I’m being harmful; who will name the abuse and put a stop to it. But I also need them to still see me as a friend or a comrade in the process. At the very least, to still see me as a human, deserving protection, care, and justice. Who won’t just discard me without remorse.

I would have an advice for you, though.

You should look for the same thing than I look for.

For your sake. Not only because you should not make the same mistake than me, and wait for the moment you’re called out as an abuser to start caring for how your community treats abusers, but also because, in my experience, ostracizers and enablers are the same kind of people. Those who look away from abuse and avoid to confront abusers are the same than those who dehumanize them once the hunt starts. Because, of course, it is more difficult to name and confront a friend who’s being abusive when it has to mean that they’re a monster. Because, also, when you’re looked the other way for quite some time, you’re feeling guilty and what better way to deal with that than doubling down on the perpetrator, right? But mostly because, finally, staying silent on abuse and ostracizing the abuser are two different ways to deal, in two different contexts, with the same concern: making someone else’s abusive behavior not your problem. Keeping your hands off of it, staying away from that, not being involved, not engaging with it. Sometimes, it means letting the abuse continue and say nothing. Sometimes, it means cutting ties with someone, “no questions asked”.

It’s the same thing about the “red flag policy”. I sometimes argued against it, and was mostly told, by people quite angry at me for being such a party pooper, that is was about sending a message, making victims feel safe, etc., and that of course if the team have reasons to suspect someone is red-flagging people in bad faith it will not be followed. Which is… I could squarrel about what kind of message such a policy sends, but usually I prefer to address a bigger elephant in the room: if the group, or part of the group, suspects bad faith redflagging, what happens? Shouldn’t the group think in advance about how the complicated cases will be dealt with, instead of making promises it does not intend to keep? Shouldn’t the group have discussions and policies that acknowledge the difficulty of the problem instead of acting like there’s nothing complicated about it and hoping nothing bad happens?

As for Transformative Justice…

It’s not at all about protecting abusers.
It’s not about protecting them from accountability, of course.
But it’s not even about protecting them from abuse.
It’s not even about distinguishing one from another.

Most of the most prominent voices for transformative justice in radical communities explicitely state that they “don’t want to protect abusers”. Which means that, since I’m an abuser, I’m not safe with them. That’s as simple as that.

Transformative Justice advocates itself as better than “punitive justice” because it’s more healing, less destructive, more able to build strong communities. And it might be.
But the problem with what we call “punitive justice” is not that it is punitive. It’s that it’s not justice. It is abuse. Done in the name of justice, sure, but folks, most abuse is done in the name of justice.

We, abusers, need protection.

What’s an abuser? Someone who caused harm in a way which expose them to socially justified retaliation. That’s the trick with abuse: it is an act of power (you have to be able to cause harm to someone else), but once recognized as abuse, it vulnerabilizes its author.

“Abuser” is a stigma, and we, the people who carry it, are seen as seen as morally inferior, abnormal, dangerous, evil. We are those who deserve to be hated, towards which violence is actually good – it’s heroic. But even in a more humane world, you are vulnerable when you have caused harm, even more when you have abused (please can we stop calling abusers “harm-causers”?). That’s what being guilty means – that you ought to be targeted by a healthy anger

I get why it can be difficult to say out loud that abusers should be protected against mistreatments, abuse and unnecessary violence. Not only that they should not be subjected to mistreatments, but also that they should actively be protected from them. But, if you’re not ready to say so, then whatever community you are trying to build, we should not be a part of. “Community Accountability” and “Transformative Justice” will be about communities we’re not part of, and a justice who’s not for us.

And, I’m sorry, but I’ll not settle for that.