When a Plagiarism Accusation Is Weaponized as a Means to Discredit You

"I repeatedly go over in my mind what I could have possibly done to incite them."

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So often, the tale of plagiarism is only told from the perspective of the one doing the accusing. It always seems like a no-brainer to take up the defense for the person who says their intellectual property has been stolen. But, based on what recently happened to me, I feel, let’s say, a touch more empathy for the many gray areas of plagiarism. So gray, in fact, that I do not believe it can be deemed truly objective in all cases.

In my strange scenario, the accusation of plagiarism wasn’t just weaponized against me based on a fundamentalist interpretation of it, but also used as a means to oust me from a certain institution based on an over-emotional whim. In the aftermath, I realized that when you are accused of plagiarism, and you don’t actually feel 1) you’ve done something wrong or at least not something so wrong that it can’t be corrected and moved on from and 2) you pride yourself on having an original voice and unique perspective, it leaves the kind of feeling that no amount of Lysol showers can cleanse.

Some might say that’s a sign of my own latent guilt for wrongdoing, but I think it’s tied more to the fact that the people who accused me claimed, for so long, to be good friends of mine. They ran one of those continuing education-type schools that only offer an errant class here or there, each one designed to prove that, even as an adult, you’re “staying hungry,” intellectual curiosity-wise. Perhaps, in my heightened state of enthusiasm over being in a “classroom” setting (even if this class took place in their apartment), I got too hungry, intellectual curiosity-wise. But I never imagined it could somehow have such a negative ramification to be ardent about learning and applying that information to your own work. Especially when you thought you were among friends.

Indeed, one would think that, having known a person for over two years, as these accusers knew me, there would be some room for the idea of “giving the benefit of the doubt” with regard to making a mistake. One that I still feel was a “mistake” only by their rigid, seemingly arbitrary standards. But no, I was canceled swiftly, surely, and irrevocably.

What happened went as follows:

1)  I took the class (let me stop here by noting: it was once a source of pride for me to say that I’m an apt pupil, or even that I possess the same sponge-like gift for processing information that Madonna does [why do you think she had a British accent while married to Guy Ritchie?]—but not anymore).

2) while taking the class, I wrote some pop culture-related articles for my website based on some of the movies we watched, with one article in particular using a buzzword from the course that was likely too close to home.

3) a few months later, one of the heads of the school contacted my boyfriend, who also taught at the institution, to tell him they had some “disturbing” information and that they needed to talk to him. When they did, they told him they saw what I had published on my website and deemed it to be plagiarism from the class. At no point did they ever talk to me about this at all, using my boyfriend as the go-between. By the end of this whole melee, he resigned.

4) I tried to talk to one of the heads and tell them I was going to speak to the teacher directly about it to see if I could write the article in a way that would make them feel more comfortable as one of the reasons there was some hyper-sensitivity about it was because they were teaching from an unpublished thesis (to which I’m kind of like: why are you teaching this class if you don’t want anyone to actually apply the knowledge because you’re afraid of losing “ownership” over ideas discussed?).

5) One of the heads of the school contacted the teacher before I had a chance to talk over the matter with them and the teacher then no longer responded to me (I have only my worst nightmares to envision of what the head of school could have said to make it so that the teacher ceased all communication with me afterward). Both heads of school also ceased talking to me and blocked me on various social media accounts.

6) I had absolutely no ability to discuss the matter or defend myself in the form of an A-B dialogue. It was simply decided what I did was wrong and that was that. With no clue about how to proceed, I took down the article.

Based on this abrupt timeline of events, much of the “reasoning” involved for this melodrama seemed, to me, rooted in pure ego, like I had sullied their precious, “unbesmirchable” school (which, again, is run out of their apartment) with my misinterpreted enthusiasm for the class. And part of the reason I’m writing about it in such a public forum is precisely because I never got to have my say or discuss anything with the people accusing me.

I was just shut out and, subsequently, all articles I had ever written for the school’s website were removed (we’re talking hours upon hours’ worth of unpaid work), along with all traces of my existence. Because, surely, everything I’ve ever written must be plagiarized as a result of this “shocking revelation,” n’est-ce pas? This behavior was more than mere “distancing,” it was an all-out surgical removal. Their vindictive nature, which I had seen from the inside looking out, had managed to be unleashed upon me. And oh my, was I ever unprepared.

Apropos of their vengeful nature, which I can’t reiterate enough in case something does happen down the line and they serve their dish cold, if they ever manage to see this, I would love to talk about why it was handled that way and why no one could just go over the specific points they took issue with so that I could amend them. Instead, I’m sure the result of them seeing this would be more attempts at smearing and discrediting. But my ideals and beliefs in what constitutes plagiarism do not align with theirs, clearly. Even though I’m not entirely sure the whole debacle was completely about plagiarism at all.

I repeatedly go over in my mind what I could have possibly done to incite them. I’ll never know for sure. But I know that something beyond mere “plagiarism” spurred these people to come for me in such an unhinged manner. Everything about this takedown seemed calculated and oddly-timed. Like, as (formerly) regular readers of my website, why would they only just now notice a months-old article and decide to attack me for it? I felt Claudine Gay’d in that, as Andrew Lawrence put it in The Guardian, “Much like with other transgressions, it seems that how plagiarism is enforced has more to do with the person being accused than the violation that was committed.”

The thing is, there wasn’t much “enforcement” of any kind. Other than for the main head of the school to WhatsApp message everyone involved with the establishment to inform them that I was a plagiarist, without any context whatsoever. Thus, my humiliation was complete. Because sometimes it takes just one person casting doubt or aspersions on your integrity as a writer to potentially ruin you.

Needless to say, it made me remember why I had always avoided academia. Being that, for the most part, I dabble in fiction and deep-dive pop culture articles, I’ve managed to avert such circles like the plague. Turns out, my instinct was probably right. The even weirder thing, though, was that this was a “school” that prided itself on being the antithesis of what “usual academia” represents. Which is to say, pearl-clutching over just about everything. Including even the faintest whispering of someone plagiarizing.

As it transpired, it would appear all iterations of academia are the same when it comes to notions of work that was “thieved.” But for me, it was very bizarre. Mainly because, in any class I’ve ever taken, the main reason I enjoyed it was being able to use what I’d learned in my writing. Specifically, my pop culture-oriented writing. For what is the pop culture essay if not, ultimately, an amalgam of Slumdog Millionaire-esque factoids? What’s more, when it comes to the classroom setting, if we talk about ideas and one person is inspired enough to write something down relating to that conversation, I fail to see how it’s “plagiarism.”

Then there is the method of “synthesizing information,” which is what teachers in classrooms are doing themselves when they teach (indeed, many of the “hot takes” bandied in the class I took could be found online). To boot, if you read multiple things and have a photographic memory when it comes to processing, subsequently re-piecing that information together in your own way, is it plagiarism? By the rigid, fundamentalist views of how academia defines plagiarism, perhaps all writers are plagiarists merely by using other people’s lives and repurposed dialogue in their work without “citing the source.”

In the aforementioned The Guardian article, Susan Blum, a linguistic anthropology professor, is referenced and quoted as follows: “She takes exception to what she calls ‘plagiarism fundamentalism,’ the idea that every thought should be completely original—which runs counter to a human nature to mimic. ‘We have these things called mirror neurons, which allow us to feel what other people are doing while they’re doing them,’ says Blum. ‘There’s a kind of continuum between originality and complete copying, and language and culture lies somewhere in the middle.’” Exactly…and yet, some academics seem to make no room for this way of human thinking, and how that might bleed into their writing.  

Alas, in the wake of this being-accused-of-plagiarism incident, I suddenly felt like everything could be interpreted as plagiarism. This idea of ownership over every little utterance being steeped in the capitalistic ideals of our society. The ones that insist that everything has an opportunity to be profited from. Furthermore, the type of people I was dealing with were so obsessed with “truth” and “moral rectitude” that I could honestly see them going through every piece I’d ever written and trying to build a case against me just to validate their over-the-top reaction. And also the type of people who would write their own damning response to this if they ever saw it (despite no names being named).

The whole thing had (and has) me really shook. Questioning and doubting myself in a way that I’m sure they wanted me to. Among my foremost questions is: what are you supposed to do when those accusing you won’t even engage or work with you to resolve the situation? It was one of the oddest things I’ve ever encountered, and I honestly hope no one dealing with such an accusation ever has to endure this puerile shutdown of all communication, when discussion and collaboration to remedy the situation are what’s needed.

I was willing to cooperate (unlike many plagiarists who are actually ill-intentioned) with the person but was instead met with radio silence, so I simply took the work down. I don’t want to be someone who “steps on toes”—not like that, anyway. But I kept thinking about how much different everything could have been if there was more collaboration involved to make the article “undamnable.” I was willing to own and atone for my sins (even though I doubted the scope of them, let alone the malintent), but there was no interest in that. All they wanted was for me to vanish, to quit “staining” their unyielding notions of integrity, their precious academic space.

It led me to wonder if there shouldn’t be more leeway for people who were under the impression that writing something based on information they’ve learned wasn’t a crime. And, speaking of being able to accuse plagiarists of a crime, as it were, those who truly want to assert their ownership over something usually need the time, money, and resources to do it. For the rest of us, the best we can hope for is that one of our ideas will hit a mother lode, financially speaking, before someone else can lay claim to it.

I am not saying that I’m some “pinko” who believes everyone should just be able to claim ideas as their own. I am merely accenting that there is a lot of hazy territory when it comes to what constitutes plagiarism, especially based on how you yourself think. Even so, I’m sure many will see the takeaway from this as “she’s okay with plagiarism.” But that’s not what this is.

My intention is to open more rigid minds to the fact that, by the staunch definitions exalted by academia (and capitalists with money to sue), we’re all plagiarists. This is not me saying, “Plagiarism is okay.” This is me saying that plagiarism is not as objective as we (but mainly academics) think it is. That one set of strict, impossible-not-to-break-sooner-or-later rules—again, what can be called plagiarism fundamentalism—should apply to everyone is as absurd as world peace.

This is not a matter of not giving a fuck or having no respect, this is about a set of values. What are you actually in this “game” for? To be recognized? Or because you couldn’t stamp out your artistic spirit if you tried, recognition or not? I do not personally write for money or recognition (which works out, since I don’t receive either), but for what I get out of it emotionally. The sense of having freedom of expression. And so, the muzzling that increasingly occurs by having to constantly look over your shoulder and wonder if someone might holler “plagiarist” seems to have become more of a detriment than a “safeguard.”

I bowed in submission for my “offense” even though I don’t feel like, from my perspective, I did anything wrong, violated any “code.” I made my own assessments of a movie that overused one concept in particular that was from the class. But I perceived the movie myself, judged it through this lens of learned information myself. I don’t understand how it was plagiarism, and if it was by certain rigid standards then I was willing to make the necessary amendments to it to accommodate those affronted. It should have been no harm, no foul. But it wasn’t.

As for me, apart from clear and definitive instances, I think that plagiarism can and does also happen unintentionally. More and more. Not just because of the amounts of information we’re exposed to in our day-to-day that then seep into the subconscious, but because the definitions of what constitute it are ostensibly becoming stricter (with the “AI revolution” being a primary factor in this). And also because of opposing value systems about plagiarism and its true meaning. Thus, all of us—even the most “unimpeachable”—have probably been guilty of it at least in some minor way or another, depending on who we ask/who wants to weaponize an accusation.

It’s how we all react to it (either with clutched pearls or a bit more understanding and communication) that makes the difference.

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