The haphazard way in which consequences are coming should concern anyone who's hoping for a systemic response to a systemic problem. The fact is, some of these scandals have become inverse popularity contests; that means the most beloved or famous figures are — in an interesting reversal — absorbing most of the response. People care deeply about Louis C.K.'s misconduct (myself included) because they thought he was better than that. No one seems to care much about the allegations about Steven Seagal; no one liked him enough to be surprised. But that lack of interest shouldn't mean that Seagal gets to escape the professional repercussions some of his colleagues are facing.
This is no way to proceed. For one thing, it's simply not fair. For another, this folds fame into the equation in ways that exclude ordinary people. If the consequence for being accused of sexual assault is that you lose your platform — and that seems to be the best ad hoc solution we've come up with — then women who aren't famous in non-celebrity industries don't have the same recourse. Whether it's female marines or hotel staff or restaurant workers, their plight won't generate the same public response. Our imaginative attachments to public figures matter, but they aren't particularly good at delivering equality or justice.