When repetition dulls urgency

In the latest development over a buried report into Police Scotland’s ‘boys’ club’ culture, Holyrood’s Criminal Justice Committee has pressed the Scottish Police Authority for an explanation of its handling.

The backstory is depressingly familiar. A review by the Equality, Diversity, Inclusion, and Human Rights Independent Review Group went before the Authority’s board in August 2024, yet it never appeared in the official papers. Instead, it was slipped onto a Police Scotland webpage with barely a mention. No press conference. No announcement. A quiet burial, complete with a police headstone.

And what did the report say? That the force is an “overwhelmingly male-dominated environment” with “sexist and misogynistic attitudes firmly embedded in its culture”. It described a “toxic” workplace where inappropriate jokes and sexualised remarks were common, often from senior officers about younger women. Female officers reported predatory behaviour, being relegated to the role of tea-maker or minute-taker, and being dismissed as “ruthless careerists” if they tried to get promoted. Many said they second-guessed their clothing or hairstyle for fear of “provoking” comments. And all of this was reinforced by a culture of collusion: protect the lads, blame the women.

As if that weren’t enough, the report detailed how some senior officers engaged in predatory relationships with junior female staff, while junior male officers ignored female superiors in favour of deferring to higher-ranking men. At every level, misogyny wasn’t just tolerated – it was woven into the everyday fabric of the workplace.

It is shocking. But was it surprising? Not really.

When I first read about it in the Herald, I couldn’t peel my eyes away, but I wasn’t even slightly surprised. Reports like this are not new. Neither is their burial. This is the culture. Police Scotland is just one example, but you could swap in almost any male-dominated workplace and find the same themes.

And here’s the problem: we keep pointing out these problems, exposing them, writing reports about them. But little changes.

I worked in a male-dominated field throughout university. Sales. I was once fired by my franchise owner after he groped me on a night out. (His nickname for me at work? His “superstar”. Charming.)

I’ve had men ask me to be their wife, tell me to smile more, and ask if I’m “on my period.” Staff members have made crude comments about women’s bodies in front of me, and female colleagues have sneered that I was only hired because of what I looked like. I’ve had my judgment ignored until my male colleague repeated the same thing – the single most common experience of all.

One manager told me I should be getting more sales and should flirt with customers, instead of being “grumpy” and “unapproachable”. Never mind that when I was personable, kind and smiley, it only opened the door to more harassment. Early on, he called me “blonde” behind my back and asked why I wasn’t more like the men – “where are your guts?” But when I showed my strength, I was told I was “impersonable”.

And you know what people say? “That’s sales for you.” “That’s retail.” “That’s just how it is.”

“You can only scream “look, this is terrible!” so many times before your throat gives out.”

Exactly. The point isn’t that my story is unique – it isn’t. It’s that the culture persists. It hasn’t shifted in any meaningful way, not for ordinary women who don’t have the privilege of working in progressive enclaves where attitudes have moved on.

So when yet another report comes along confirming what women have said for decades, the outrage feels tired. It matters, but it also feels like déjà vu. You can only scream “look, this is terrible!” so many times before your throat gives out.

And this isn’t just about policing or misogyny. It’s about everything.

Climate change. Racism. Inequality. Every campaign seems to run on the same fuel: expose the problem, demand a stop, repeat. “Stop the bad thing.” Stop misogyny. Stop carbon. Stop racism. Stop austerity.

And don’t get me wrong – stopping bad things matters. Sometimes it’s the only urgent demand that can be made. But this creates a strange trap: you can spend three years campaigning against a project like Rosebank, finally win, and what have you achieved? Tomorrow looks exactly like yesterday, just without an extra oil field. Necessary, yes. Transformative, no.

Worse, repetition dulls urgency. We know climate change is bad. We know racism is corrosive. We know misogyny corrodes workplaces and lives. Hearing it again doesn’t spur us into action; it numbs us. The problem becomes background noise.

So what do we do instead?

Here’s one thought: maybe the missing piece is imagination. Not just naming the problem, but naming the alternative. Campaigns that say not only what we’re against but what we’re for. Stories that sketch out how things could look if we actually won.

It sounds soft, but it isn’t. If you all tell people that the system is rigged, corrupt, toxic, racist, doomed – eventually, they’ll believe you. But they’ll also stop believing in the possibility of anything else. Cynicism is the most efficient fuel for the status quo.

The Police Scotland example proves the point. Yes, the report was buried. Yes, its contents are depressing. But what if, alongside reading it, we also heard stories of a police force that actually changed? Not some abstract promise of “zero tolerance”, but concrete pictures of what reform would look like. Senior officers held accountable. Female officers are promoted and respected. Any junior male officers who ignore a female superior will be shown the door. Workplaces where kindness isn’t treated as a sexual invitation, but as a baseline for professional respect. Consequences when someone steps out of line.

The same is true for other fights. Climate campaigners have gotten better at this in recent years, painting visions of towns with clean air, cheap energy, and public transport that actually works. Anti-racism movements have done it too, showing what safer communities would look like if resources shifted from punishment to support. But we need more of it, and we need it everywhere.

Because repetition alone doesn’t change culture. But imagination might.

I don’t pretend to have a neat blueprint. Frankly, I’m tired. I struggled to even write this piece because the act of cataloguing misogyny again felt like shouting into the void. But I refuse to leave the last word to men who think this is harmless, or “just a joke”, or that women are too sensitive.

I also refuse to leave it to institutions that are very good at pointing out the issue, sharing a public declaration of intolerance, starting a new group or committee, and moving swiftly on.

If repetition dulls urgency, then imagination might sharpen it. So maybe the real question isn’t just ‘what happens when nothing changes?’ It’s this: what happens when we finally dare to picture what would - and then demand it?