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Main photo: Portrait of Gisèle Pelicot by Ann-Sophie Qvarnström. Creative Commons.
Much has been said, written, thought, and anticipated about the Mazan rape trial and the incredible courage of Gisèle Pelicot, who has become a veritable icon over the course of a trial that began on September 2 and ended on December 19. And yet, now that the verdict has been delivered, sealing the fate of Dominique Pelicot and the 51 defendants on trial with him, we find ourselves revisiting the highlights of this trial, this sordid and painful story made public thanks to the determination and strength of a woman who suffered for 10 years, under chemical submission, being raped by her husband and dozens of men he had recruited on the internet.
Five people aged 36 to 72—a gardener, a truck driver, a tiler, and a retiree—are going free, whereas the prosecution had requested 10 years’ imprisonment with sentences starting from three years’ imprisonment, two of which were suspended. The magistrates did not want to make this exceptional trial an exemplary one, preferring to apply the principle of individualized sentencing rather than adopt historic sanctions. “It’s complicated to ask magistrates to hand down a sentence in the name of our struggles,” says Ovidie, a feminist filmmaker and writer, in an interview with Médiapart. “That’s where the gap is between our wishes as militants and the reality of justice” (1).
But this is not always the path chosen by magistrates. In the case of the trial for the murder of Samuel Paty, the history teacher decapitated outside the secondary school where he worked by the young Chechen Islamist terrorist Abdullakh Anzorov, the sentences far exceeded those requested by the public prosecutor.
Violence and denial
But will incarceration make these men realize that the acts they committed did indeed consist of rape as most of them carry along to prison the denial they displayed during the trial? A trial that took place under the signs of a certain institutional violence, marked by the paucity of space and time—it was in a cramped courtroom that Gisèle Pelicot was forced to rub shoulders with her rapists for several weeks, while the lack of time did not allow for the elucidation of the other abuses of which she was a victim.
Is it really in an all-male prison environment that these men will be able to face up to the rapes they have committed, that they will be able to question themselves? Men who, in their own words, “had no intention of raping” but who disposed of a woman’s sedated body as if it were an object, without asking themselves the slightest question?
Of the violence that crept into this succession of hearings, we will remember the brutality of the judicial debate and the secondary victimization to which Gisèle Pelicot was subjected by the defense lawyers: doubts about her sedation, inappropriate questions about her sexuality, the reproach of an alleged indulgence granted to her husband…
“Everyone is free to choose the means of his or her defense, the cornerstone of a fair trial. But terrorizing the victim is highly counter-productive,” stresses lawyer Anne Bouillon in an interview with La Déferlante (the magazine of feminist revolutions). “The effectiveness of a defense system is measured by the obtained result, and attacking the victim does not do the accused any favors.”
We will also remember the polarization the same defense engaged in against feminists, accusing them of interfering in the debates or even blaming Dominique Pelicot alone, the better to whitewash the 51 individuals sitting in the dock. What can we say about the lawyer who, on behalf of his client, insulted the feminists who had come to support Gisèle Pelicot?
How can we describe the male complicity among the accused, who encouraged each other during questioning, who patted each other on the shoulder, demonstrating “inappropriate casualness,” in the words of the general counsel, who in her indictment denounced “a disturbing impression of communion” among them? Is it really in an all-male prison environment that these men will be able to face up to the rapes they have committed, that they will be able to question themselves? Men who, in their own words, “had no intention of raping” but who disposed of a woman’s sedated body as if it were an object, without asking themselves the slightest question?
Female solidarity
Illuminating such darkness were all those people, the vast majority of them women, who came to support and accompany Gisèle Pelicot, cheering her on as the hearings progressed with the crackle of their applause. “Thanks to all of you, I had the strength to fight my battle through to the end,” she told the crowd, whom she’d become accustomed to thanking every time she left the Vaucluse criminal court in Avignon.
There were also men and women in the audience who had come to confront their own experiences, all eager to support the woman who had “donated her story” to make a difference. Their testimonies are available in the France Culture audio documentary “Les pieds sur terre.”
This solidarity among women and feminists which has spread throughout France and beyond its borders has made it possible to question, in depth, the rape culture that systematically insinuates itself into the workings of the patriarchy. It’s time for some serious deconstruction: women have learned to denounce sexist violence; now it’s up to men to understand why and how they participate in this sexual domination against them.
For a revolution in mentalities
It is undoubtedly this awareness that has led to the emergence of one of the key words of this trial: consent, which will inevitably be engraved in the new law on rape that France is due to adopt. According to analysis by Amnesty International, 19 out of 31 countries in Europe—Belgium, Croatia, Cyprus, the Czech Republic, Denmark, Finland, Germany, Greece, Iceland, Ireland, Luxembourg, Malta, the Netherlands, Poland, Slovenia, Spain, Sweden, Switzerland, and the United Kingdom—define rape as non-consensual sexual intercourse.
While we can only welcome the fact that France is aligning itself with this type of jurisdiction, it is futile to think that this will solve everything. For philosopher Laurence Devillairs, the value of consent cannot be part of the framework of male-female relations governed by inequality and male domination. “People allow themselves to do things to women because they are not considered equal. This situation of social and political inequality prompts me to question the value of consent. What is consent worth when women are not equal to men?” (2).
Research conducted by Myrian Carbajal and Annamaria Colombo, professors at the HES-SO University of Applied Sciences and Arts of Western Switzerland, supports this view. It sheds light on the way in which women have internalized the obligation to accept unwanted sex. “If the young women surveyed feel more beholden to sex than young men,” they write, “it’s because they are subject to behavioral expectations linked to a system of binary representations of sexuality known as ‘heteronormativity’” (3). Thus, 73% of French women and 59% of French men ascribe to the belief that “by nature, men have more sexual needs than women.” This belief influences the practices of women, who sometimes have sex without wanting to.
It’s clear, then, that a revolution in mentalities will inevitably involve a political battle against gender inequalities, the introduction of sex and relationship education programs as of kindergarten, and a cultural dismantling of the millennia-old strata of sexual violence that permeate everything from the founding tales of our mythologies to the folk tales of the “sleeping beauties,” right through to the teeming catalog of misogynist expressions and stereotypes.
Gisèle Pelicot has opened up this vast field by making sure that shame change sides… now it’s up to us to follow in her footsteps.
Notes:
Médiapart (December 19, 2024): Ovidie « Ces hommes que nous aimons ou que nous connaissons sont aussi des violeurs »
France Culture (November 29, 2024): Procès de Mazan, penser l’après.
The Conversation (October 13, 2020): « Dette de sexe » : pourquoi les femmes se sentent parfois obligées d’accepter des rapports non désirés.
