There’s a famous quote that John F. Kennedy used. It’s commonly misattributed to Edmund Burke.

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but it is not a call to action. “Don’t do nothing,” doesn’t tell you what to do. There is no specific action outlined. 

The situation with Brienne Allan from Notch Brewing and the outpouring of stories of abuse and harassment across the industry is harrowing. If you’ve been paying attention at all across the course of your life you cannot really pretend to be shocked. Within North American society we have significant problems with sexism and racism, and within the beer industry we have dynamics that exacerbate that problem.

For one thing, there’s alcohol involved. For another, it’s a boom industry that has grown from something like 3000 breweries in 2012 to something like 12000 breweries in 2021 without any real oversight. The majority of those companies are small, owned by middle to upper middle class white guys, and have no HR department. There’s no centrality of leadership coming up with standards for behaviour and even if there were, it’s a society wide problem. It’s a recipe for nightmares.

As a result of the sharing of those stories, there’s been an outpouring of rage on social media and understandably so. Seeing them collected like that is maddening. The call, uniformly, is to do better.

I’m going to be honest with you: I’m not sure how effective social media is as a tool in the arsenal of change, especially as it pertains to beer twitter. For one thing, we all more or less follow the same people, so we’re preaching to the choir. Our feeds must all look vastly similar and it’s very difficult to figure out whether it’s just performative outrage on the parts of various people. Either way, do me a favour and look at your feed on a good day when that’s not happening. You’re going to see a lot of negativity. Beer twitter is a little like volunteering to work a shift at the rock kicking factory and then wondering at the end of the day why your feet hurt.

Whether you’re tweeting or posting on instagram, it may act as a pressure relief valve but it’s the height of solipsism and arrogance to assume that you’re going to change the world with 240 characters and a few thousand followers. For one thing, not everybody is paying attention all the time. In addition, the entirety of the format is disposable and we forget that in the rush for the dopamine the little machine in our pockets gives us. It feels important because of the space it takes up in your brain, but tweets ain’t change. The constant rush of new content on that medium ensures it.

I’ve been thinking about the problem a lot, and I think that if you’re a bog standard middle aged white guy, it’s easy to become overwhelmed and get defensive. “Here,” says the internet, “is a society wide problem and you need to do better.” Well, like Burke, that’s not the most specific call to action. It’s an insurmountable problem, and you’re just one person. And, very probably, that causes feelings you weren’t expecting when you woke up. Maybe you start tallying all the good you’ve done in your head in order to convince yourself they’re talking about someone else. Maybe you feel an element of shame, because you feel you’ve not done enough. Maybe there were times when you didn’t step in although you feel in retrospect that you should have. Maybe you feel that embarrassment. Maybe you don’t know how to start. The messaging contains a lot of what not to do, but not a lot of instruction.

I’ve got news for you. You’ve got limitations. You’re not a superhero. It’s month 15 of a global pandemic. You’re tired. Besides, your sphere of influence is limited. No one is expecting you to save the world, but you’re not off the hook. 

Edmund Burke did say something useful. It’s not as punchy a sound bite: 

Whilst men are linked together, they easily and speedily communicate the alarm of any evil design. They are enabled to fathom it with common counsel, and to oppose it with united strength. Whereas, when they lie dispersed, without concert, order, or discipline, communication is uncertain, counsel difficult, and resistance impracticable. Where men are not acquainted with each other’s principles, nor experienced in each other’s talents, nor at all practised in their mutual habitudes and dispositions by joint efforts in business; no personal confidence, no friendship, no common interest, subsisting among them; it is evidently impossible that they can act a public part with uniformity, perseverance, or efficacy. In a connection, the most inconsiderable man, by adding to the weight of the whole, has his value, and his use; out of it, the greatest talents are wholly unserviceable to the public. No man, who is not inflamed by vain-glory into enthusiasm, can flatter himself that his single, unsupported, desultory, unsystematic endeavours, are of power to defeat the subtle designs and united cabals of ambitious citizens. When bad men combine, the good must associate; else they will fall, one by one, an unpitied sacrifice in a contemptible struggle.

Let me ask you. How many male role models do you have in your life? Fictional characters and sports icons don’t count. If you’re lucky, your father, maybe your grandfather. Maybe you had a boss that supported you. Maybe a teacher or a professor. That’s about a handful. How many male friends do you have that you can talk to about complex issues like what we’re facing? Maybe about as many, possibly fewer. That’s what, six guys?

Well, that sounds like we lie dispersed, and that sounds like a recipe for continued failure. No one’s coming to fix the problem, so we’re going to have to do it ourselves.

I have limitations too. As I get older, I’m more aware of them. I am working 60 hours a week at the moment on a number of jobs, and as boundaries are important I’m going to define this carefully. I’m going to take five hours of doom scrolling time a week and attempt to repatriate it in a more useful direction. If you’re in the beer industry in Ontario, I’m offering mentorship instead of outrage. I won’t yell at you or laugh at you or dismiss you. I am patently aware that I do not have all the answers on this docket, but I think we’re more likely to find them working together. I am also aware that I’m pretty heavily outnumbered here. It’s my hope that if I model this behaviour maybe some other people will step up. 

I do not know how successful this will be, but I know that tweeting isn’t going to get it done, and it’s like the man said: “Don’t do nothing.”