– Plus exciting alternative to rigged criminal justice system
The HBO television drama series, The Pitt, is brilliant entertainment. The show has won a stack of awards for its authentic, gripping portrayal of the grisly medical cases staff confront in a Pittsburgh emergency room.
In the second series we witness this constantly overwhelmed, high-stakes environment during a chaotic July 4th shift, with staff juggling life-or-death traumas amid bed shortages, diversions from other hospitals, and other crises. The heroic staff routinely cope with these relentless dramas with rough, gallows humour, sarcastic one-liners, and dark banter that keeps morale afloat amid the chaos.
But suddenly the mood changes. We are told of a new patient in triage – a “sexual assault survivor.” The atmosphere snaps into hushed solemnity: jokes vanish, voices drop, and the entire team shifts to gentle, deliberate, almost reverent tiptoeing.
Somehow, in the overflowing ER – where beds are scarce and staff stretched thin – there’s instant allocation of a private room, specialized lighting, and three dedicated professionals for hours of solemn and meticulous evidence collection.
Dana, the charge nurse, treats Ilana, the survivor, with utmost care and sensitivity as they take fingernail and mouth swabs. “You’re in a safe place now … We’re here to help and support you,” she whispers, oozing empathy.
At the culmination of the medical examination, the young nurse who is assisting announces in a tremulous voice: “You are so brave.”
Earlier in the proceeding there is a disquieting moment where Ilana disrupts preparations for the internal examination, sits up and blurts out, “I don’t want to do this anymore…He’s my friend… it was just dumb … he was drunk, he didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything.”
Confronted with the girl’s ambivalence, the medical staff are reassuring: “Your feelings are valid and we’re here no matter what you decide.” Having agreed to proceed with the examination, later Ilana expresses renewed concern about her friend: “He’d lose everything. It was stupid, he was so drunk. Maybe it is not worth ruining his life over something like that… didn’t feel huge in the moment.”
And what happens? The woman from the local rape crisis group intervenes: “That’s a normal feeling right now – minimizing to cope. But what happened wasn’t ok, drunk or not. You don’t have to decide alone,” she says, telling Ilana she can do anonymous third-party reporting if she wants to take action later. “Ilana, what happened to you wasn’t a mistake – it was a crime, no matter the circumstances,” she adds later in the episode.
I spent days thinking back to this plotline which struck me as both bizarre and revealing. For a start there is the tonal whiplash, the sudden shift from frenzy and gallows humour to what seems like a solemn rite, akin to a religious service.
It comes across as a laborious exercise in moral posturing, reeking of performative empathy, as the ER’s raw, unfiltered brutality is paused for a sanitized, educational interlude that virtue-signals the show’s progressive credentials.
Then, with rape elevated to ‘MOST VITAL’ status and demanding undivided attention amid the chaos, the victim’s minimization has to be portrayed as a tragic flaw rather than an appropriate compassionate instinct. There’s no room for ambiguity, let alone forgiveness, or even the possibility of mistake, in a script that prioritizes ideology over nuanced humanity.
It comes across as a laborious exercise in moral posturing, reeking of performative empathy, as the ER’s raw, unfiltered brutality is paused for a sanitized, educational interlude that virtue-signals the show’s progressive credentials.
Naturally my conerns about these aspects of The Pitt’s storytelling proved to be totally at odds with the acclaim the episodes received from all the reviewers. In a Collider review, writer Kelcie Mattson describes the rape storyline as “profoundly, searingly humane – detailing a medical procedure, assisting an overlooked patient, and confronting pervasive cultural harm with the sensitivity, integrity, and urgency it requires.”
There’s something very odd about framing sexual assault as “Ultimate Trauma”. It is surely ideological overreach to assume that all sexual assault warrants immediate, exhaustive resources—despite ER overload. It imposes a rigid, value-laden hierarchy of suffering rooted in feminist ideologies, rather than objective medical or situational priorities.
Ilana’s ambiguity about the assault is uniformly framed by commentators as a realistic portrayal of survivor psychology, including self-blame and fear of social repercussion. Her care for her friend is viewed as a barrier to justice rather than admirable humanity.
And this is exactly the consensus you’d expect from today’s feminist culture. Our media is determined to enforce a monolithic narrative of victimhood, dismissing alternative responses like empathy for the accused as misguided, internalized oppression. This strips agency from the victim by implying her instincts are wrong, while privileging a framework that views all such incidents through a lens of systemic harm— at the expense of individual context, like alcohol-fuelled mistakes and misunderstandings between friends.
There’s something very odd about framing sexual assault as “Ultimate Trauma”. It is surely ideological overreach to assume that all sexual assault warrants immediate, exhaustive resources—despite ER overload. It imposes a rigid, value-laden hierarchy of suffering rooted in feminist ideologies, rather than objective medical or situational priorities.
But that is what happens in this mad, sad world of modern feminism which positions sexual violence as an unparalleled symbol of patriarchal harm or systemic oppression, a compulsory narrative which overrides individual agency and real-world context.
How telling that a New York Times article on The Pitt described the show as “an empathy exam”. “It’s a civics lesson,” it added.
Well, if it is a civics lesson what are the rights and responsibilities, the lessons about the rule of law, that this hugely popular television series is intent on teaching us through this particular plotline? That’s simple. The message is “Nail the bloke! Put aside any misguided loyalty to perpetrators, any concerns about ruining their lives. All accused men are villains and deserve to receive the full brunt of the law.”
Surely it is relevant that we’re usually talking about kids here – most date rapes involve very young men and women, with 15-19 the most common age group amongst accused males. And surveys show most women in this situation are, like Ilana, very unsure that these young guys deserve to be sent to prison for regret sex that so easily results from these alcohol-fuelled adventures.
That’s the bottom line here. The feminist’s prescribed punitive approach simply isn’t working. Many young women don’t want these former friends to end up behind bars and hence don’t report to police. And if they do, many juries don’t end up convicting the males caught up in these murky he-said she-said cases.
Back in 2009 Aya Gruber, a lifelong feminist, a Harvard Law graduate, a former public defender, and a survivor of sexual violence, wrote a pathbreaking Washington Law Review article which argued that feminist reforms targeting date rape are “controversial, sporadically-implemented, and empirically unsuccessful.” She pointed out the entire feminist legal framework was built around the most extreme, unambiguous cases, and then applied wholesale to every situation including messy, ambiguous, alcohol-involved scenarios. The woman who is uncertain, who knows the man, who doesn’t want his life destroyed — she was simply written out of the picture when the laws were designed. Ultimately Gruber urged feminists to re-imagine gender justice outside of the guise of criminal law.
Another prominent feminist had similar ideas. Eight years ago, I was delighted to see Germaine Greer, one of the leading lights of Second Wave feminism, talking sense about these date rape cases. Promoting a small book she’d written on rape, Greer called for the lower sentences for sexual assault and said society should not see it as a “spectacularly violent crime” but instead view it more as “lazy, careless and insensitive.”
And she mentioned an idea about how to tackle the issue in a more sensible way. Namely, restorative justice (RJ). I first came across restorative justice many decades ago, when I wrote a story on how this approach was being used to resolve disputes amongst personnel working in a coal mine. Restorative justice is all about bringing together the various parties – those directly involved plus some supporters – to collectively explore what happened, sort out responsibility for different aspects and decide on ways to make amends. This process, also known as “conferencing’, is used very successfully to deal with school disputes, youth crime and the like.
I was very hopeful when I discovered this approach was being proposed for rape cases – a genuine alternative justice system to sort through the conflicting his and hers stories seeking common ground, rather than bludgeoning men into submission. It made sense, particularly with acquaintance/date rape scenarios involving alcohol, consent ambiguities, young people, and low reporting rates. Great for everyday cases where victims/survivors don’t want the criminal system, where juries hesitate to convict without clear evidence, and where the adversarial process often fails both parties.
I should have known that there was no way feminists were going to let this happen. Despite Gruber’s words of warning, they remain intent on refashioning the criminal justice system to demolish all accused men and refuse to countenance an alternative approach.
Here’s feminist family violence researchers Joan Pennell and Gale Burford: “Restorative Justice in sexual violence is a wolf in sheep’s clothing—retraumatizing victims through coerced ‘conferences’ where abusers can twist narratives, blame alcohol or ‘misunderstandings,’ and escape real punishment. Feminists must fight this tooth and nail; it’s a vicious undermining of survivor agency, forcing women into intimate hells with their rapists for the sake of ‘restoration’ that only restores patriarchal control.”
So, for a while there was a total blanket ban on using RJ for sexual violence cases. But gradually the rules started to bend, allowing conferencing in cases where the alleged perpetrator had admitted responsibility or was already found guilty in court. The new culturally sanctioned version of RJ was proudly survivor-led, complete with victim-offender dialogue aimed at securing the perpetrator’s apology, ideally complete with the mandatory line: “I have learned so much from your courage.”
Well, actually that’s a bit mean. There is evidence that RJ can work well even in these circumstances – and not just for the victim. Restorative justice literature consistently finds that what many women actually want is validation, a genuine apology, assurance it won’t happen again, and a voice — not incarceration. And it is certainly a better option for men than prison.
But it’s a long way from the open-ended process I had in mind which allows both parties to explore what happened without predetermined guilt. A genuine truth finding mechanism which might identify fault on both sides, especially in alcohol-affected date rape cases.
In March last year a report was tabled by the Australian Law Reform Commission (ALRC) on reforming justice responses to sexual violence. This proposed legislation aims to make RJ a more formal, consistent practice across states and territories—potentially as an alternative or complementary pathway to our current revenge-seeking system. This is the first time restorative justice has been seriously considered as part of any national strategy to address sexual violence.
This is a big deal, particularly as there were submissions to the inquiry which argued for an even broader model, removing the current post conviction/admission requirements. To its credit, the ALRC did recommend this model.
It’s a welcome sign that cracks are finally emerging in the long-standing, punitive, feminist-led monopoly over this territory—cracks that open the door to a broader, fairer, more humane approach to real justice. I urge you to contact your local MPs to urge the government to back this proposal – here’s a draft letter. You could also send it to your state Attorney-General. I’m really excited about this idea and hope you will help promote it.
The ALRC’s recommendation to expand restorative justice pathways really deserves our full support—not as a retreat from accountability, but as a mature step towards delivering true justice for many more people.