Today’s post is by Tasia Scrutton. Tasia is an Associate Professor at the University of Leeds and Director of the Centre for Philosophy of Religion and Theology.
In Genesis 12:14–20 we read how Abram (later Abraham) asks Sarai (later Sarah) to pretend she is his sister, rather than wife, to protect himself (cf. Genesis 20). This allows Pharoah to have sex with Sarai without knowingly committing adultery. In the words of the thirteenth century commentator Ramban, Abram ‘commits a great sin’ by failing to protect his wife from rape. Sarai is seen as fair game for attack by men who do not know her, and the man who does know her; indeed, the man closest to her does nothing to protect her.
Fast forward to today, when we see Dominique Pelicot and fifty of the men he recruited over almost a decade to rape his wife Gisèle being convicted, following a long, arduous trial. Dominique was given 20 years for aggravated rape, the maximum possible sentence, and Gisèle’s decision to waive anonymity indeed meant that shame changed sides: it is the rapists who now face the shame and censorship that have often been experienced instead by the victims of rape.
At the same time, Gisèle’s victory – which is a victory on behalf of all violated women – is still only a partial one. Many of the men who assaulted her received far shorter sentences than Dominique Pelicot, some as little as 3 years. That figure is striking, given that some Just Stop Oil protesters, for instance, were jailed for as many as 5 years for non-violent crimes. We must ask, what does this reflect about the crimes our societies think are ‘really’ serious – and (relatedly) whose lives do they think matter?
Calling for retribution is not an attractive look – but the low sentences are significant, and deeply problematic, for reasons other than retribution. One of the strongest arguments for having a prison system at all is that it can – or should – deter people from committing crimes. Many of the men who raped Gisèle will be out of prison in just a few years – a span of time less long than the duration of the legal trial (which began in 2020), let alone the length of Gisèle’s almost-decade-long ordeal. They will be free and, while it is to be hoped that some will be reformed characters, those who are not reformed will be free, including free to perpetrate sexual violence again.
In addition, low sentences also send out the message to others that, while rape is not acceptable, it is somehow not such a very bad crime after all – perhaps (someone might think) it might even be worth the risk committing it, given that conviction rates are low to begin with and the length of incarceration they would face if convicted not considerable.
A distinction is sometimes made between ‘freedom to’ and ‘freedom from’: my freedom to smoke cigarettes on trains (for example) might be at the expense of your freedom from a smoke-filled carriage. In the case of no- and low-imprisonment rape trials, freedom to rape is, it could be argued, protected at the expense of the freedom from sexual violence and the risk of sexual violence.
Most of Gisèle’s most vocal supporters have been women, and lower support among men should worry us too. Many men have been quietly sympathetic, yes; while others have begun another #NotAllMen campaign. While it is true, thankfully, that not all men are rapists (or would want to be rapists), this discourse serves to deflect attention away from the real atrocities and from those who have had those atrocities inflicted on them. It says, ‘look at us’ (and so ‘not at them’). We should not have to give credit to our fathers, husbands, brothers, sons and male friends for not being rapists. Surely, we should just be able to trust that they are not.
In her moving post-verdict speech today, Gisèle called for a future with ‘respect and mutual understanding between men and women’. Amen indeed to that. Women like Gisèle have done everything in their power to lay the foundations for that – male allies, and legal systems, and social structures, now need meet us halfway to make it a reality.
Editors: We want to thank Tasia for her post, written today, on the day of the verdict. We want to add that the argument used by the defence that some of the men charged with raping Gisèle Pelicot assumed consent, is also sometimes applied to interpretations of the story in Genesis 12 to which Tasia makes reference at the beginning of the post – that is, that Sarai’s consent to follow Abram’s instruction and submit to sex with Pharaoh are assumed. To us the biblical story suggests rape and, with that, no consent. The suggestion that Gisèle Pelicot consented to the violations perpetrated against her is despicable.
[The featured image is from Shutterstock Images. The author image below is courtesy of Tasia Scrutton.]