This is how men – some men – respond to the sexual-harassment allegations in the wake of the "#MeToo" disclosures.

It's December, just a few months after Harvey Weinstein was outed a serial sexual predator. My inquisitor is wondering why the sole identity revealed by #MeToo in Australia is Don Burke, who, according to the man asking the questions, is a has-been. I'd argue that these events have comforted other women to know that they can now share their stories, too.

But it's also true that – as yet – the revelations about the celebrity gardener have not had any substantial impact on working women's lives, except perhaps relief that there is public acknowledgement.

Crushingly, the men who stood by and allowed Burke to behave the way he did have acknowledged their shortcomings in failing to deal with the clear danger a predator had on their other employees, yet there has been no material impact on their careers.

I remind the questioner that the Weinstein story took nearly 18 months to consolidate; his response is as above. He's not the only man to be complicit in the sorry story of sexual harassment by Australian men of Australian women. They are all complicit. No wonder that word is word of the year.

Yes, instead of standing up and saying, "Yes, I witnessed it and I did nothing. I'm sorry. I won't let it happen again. I will step in," it's been, "Maybe it doesn't happen as much here in Australia." We have the lovely men who say they won't let it happen on their watch. We have the ugly men who have yet to take responsibility. Sorry is nothing.

To be very clear about this process, it took six weeks from the first disclosures about Burke's behaviour to the appearance of the story on national news; six weeks from the first ping into the emails of campaigner Tracey Spicer. It takes some time to investigate and corroborate allegations. There are reportedly 64 more men in the queue; 64 cases with several incidents against each of them.

But to accurately and responsibly report on these accusations requires effort and time. It requires seeking information from multiple sources. That's the only way #MeYoo will achieve change.

I note that The Daily Telegraph published a story about a noted actor in its haste to catch up with the stories by Fairfax and the ABC. I fear it may have done irreparable damage to the just cause of stopping sexual harassment and assault. Whatever the facts of the complaint made about Geoffrey Rush – he has called the newpaper's claims "false, pejorative and misleading" – The Telegraph has made it nigh impossible to report on the allegation. The publication's carelessness has two effects: it puts excruciating pressure on women and allows allegations to go unchecked. It wasn't fair and it wasn't good journalism.

But the worst crime is this: it makes it even harder for Australian women to speak up. They're already finding it hard enough. Who will leak the complaint? Who will protect them when it's done? How will they fare if the alleged perpetrator decides to sue? The answer is no one. No one. No one when you finally talk about it. And it can result in terrible punishment for the complainant.

This is not the United States. We don't have an unending pool of capital, jobs and opportunities. Someone knows someone who knows everyone else, and that's particularly true in media and entertainment.

Someone who counts himself as one of Rush's friends tells me he just can't believe the Oscar winner would ever behave like that. "How do we know about the integrity of the complainant?" he adds. I fear we might may never know now; any investigation has been contaminated.

The tiny array of career options in that field is about the same as in Australian politics. In the weeks before the New England by-election, I heard scandalous stories about Barnaby Joyce and other politicians, and was constantly berated on social media because journalists hadn't exposed this politician or that other politician.

We now know that Joyce has such serious marital problems that he and his sainted wife have separated. I don't know what else he has done and I don't know about other politicians' behaviour. You can't write anything without evidence, and chit-chat on social media is not evidence of wrongdoing. (Oh, I love social media as much as the next gossip, but it's not proof of anything.)

Evidence is someone prepared to go on the public record. It could also be men prepared to go on the record about what they witnessed. It could be. Or I could wait for hell to freeze over.

But when it comes to sexual harassment and abuse in politics and related industries, I know this. There are many women, young and old, who work in such places, or in charities and not-for-profits, who will never, ever disclose the harm done to them, because they think the greater good of the cause for which they work or volunteer is more important than their individual well-being. Whether Liberal, Labor, Nationals or Greens, I've heard complaints about men's behaviour, some plainly appalling, others utterly terrifying.

Stop expecting women to do all the heavy lifting. Recognise they have already been violated and it's for them to decide how much pain they can bear.

And if you are a man and you've stood by and watched this happen, you stand shoulder to shoulder with the perpetrators. You stood by the man who unzipped and pressed and fondled, and you didn't a thing to stop it. Shame.

Jenna Price is a Fairfax columnist and an academic at the University of Technology Sydney.

Twitter: @JennaPrice

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