“I am a rapist, like everyone in this room.” At the Mazan rape trial on Tuesday, September 17, Dominique Pelicot took responsibility “in their entirety” the facts he is accused of. Since September 2, the 71-year-old man has been on trial alongside 50 co-defendants before the criminal court of Vaucluse. He is accused of having, for ten years, drugged and orchestrated rapes of his wife, Gisèle Pelicot, by recruiting dozens of men on the internet.
Franceinfo spoke with author and feminist activist Rose Lamy, who also runs the Instagram account “Prepare for the fight”. After her first attempt Undoing sexist discourse in the mediashe directed the collective work Me too: MeToo, beyond the hashtag. In his latest work, As good fathersshe questions stereotypes about the perpetrators of sexist and sexual violence. Behind the myth of “monster” or of “marginal”Rose Lamy demonstrates that it is mainly men “ordinary” who commit violence against women.
Franceinfo: The 51 accused in the Mazan rape trial range in age from their twenties to over 70, they are husbands or fathers, well integrated into society, and almost all have no criminal record. They are similar to the “good fathers” that you describe in your book. Can you explain this notion?
Rose Lamy: These accused illustrate well the message that feminists have been conveying for years: there is no profile of the rapist. The violent man is not the monster, the disruptive external element that would come to disturb the peace in households and society. The “good father”, which I conceptualized in my book, comes from an old legal formula from the Civil Code that was withdrawn in 2014. The good father was an abstract figure of the law supposed to represent the norm. I took up this term to oppose it to the figure of the “monster”. Good fathers give themselves a clear conscience because they build themselves in opposition to the “others”, including the “monsters”, those they consider to be the only violent men.
Who are these “others” who, in your opinion, are more readily acknowledged to be perpetrators of domestic violence and sexual violence?
In the category of “others”, we find the figures of the monster, the serial killer, the madman or the marginalized person who is not integrated into society. There is also the figure of the foreigner, with this discourse much taken up by the extreme right, according to which the violent man would be the irregular migrant who attacks women in the street. It is also the stereotype of the poor, alcoholic man, who hits his wife and who is looked down upon.
“This category of “others” allows good fathers to avoid facing the truth: sexist violence exists in all social classes and in all backgrounds.”
Rose Lamy, author of “As Good Fathers”to franceinfo
Violence committed by monsters, marginalized people or foreigners also exists. It is not a question of denying their existence. But as far as domestic violence is concerned, the statistics are clear: it is the violence of husbands, fathers, that is mainly exercised.
Since you mention statistics, let’s remember that nine out of ten victims of rape or attempted rape know their attacker, and in 45% of cases, it is their spouse or ex-spouse. Why does society still have trouble accepting that sexual violence is also the work of “good fathers”?
Good fathers continue to defend the theory of “others” so it persists in representations. There is something of a strategy on their part. I’m not saying that men meet up in the evening to decide together on the best strategy to maintain sexist violence and rape culture. It’s something more subtle. They repeat the arguments they consider effective, in courtrooms, on social media or on TV sets: “It’s impossible, I know him, he’s my friend” ; “I am in favor of MeToo but…” ; “Isn’t there a business in complaints?”…
By systematically defending each other, by diverting attention to other categories of men who are solely responsible for violence against women and children, by attacking victims who speak out and the feminists who support them, or by remaining silent, they block the advancement of women’s rights.
We should also not underestimate the fact that we also need to collectively believe that sexual violence cannot happen everywhere, all the time, including in our family units. It is a protective mechanism that consists of persuading ourselves that these acts cannot be committed by our own fathers, by someone in our family, by someone we love. It is a kind of diversion that protects, at least for a while, our feelings and emotions, but which prevents us from confronting the truth. As long as we do not face reality, and we do not name things properly, it will be difficult to fight against this violence, to put in place policies to stem it.
At the Mazan rape trial, some of the accused denied having intended to rape Gisèle Pelicot, even though she was unconscious and unable to express consent at the time of the events. How should we analyze this line of defense?
Some of them believe that the victim’s husband had given them permission and invoke a “delegation of consent” that does not exist. Behind this argument, we find the idea that the husband possesses his wife. This also illustrates a form of trivialization of domestic violence, even though it represents 45 interventions per hour by the police. It is somewhere thinking that the husband has a right of life or death over his wife and children, or that if the law of the patriarch is not respected, he has the right to crack down.
This reasoning has long been enshrined in law. Regarding femicide, until 1975, a mitigating circumstance protected good fathers who killed their wives if they were caught with another man. But it still remains in representations today. I still see traces of this justification and trivialization of domestic violence in the news sections of the media. This is the case, for example, when we read that a man hit his wife because there were lumps in the pancake batter or that the pizza was not cooked enough for her taste. By justifying domestic violence with absurd arguments, we imply that the victim behaved badly and that the husband had the right to commit these acts. While nothing ever justifies physical violence.
Doesn’t the discourse of “good fathers” and the blaming of victims that you mention also contribute to maintaining silence around this violence?
Yes, this can indeed explain the silence, but also the feeling of shame that victims often talk about. These mechanisms contribute to them telling themselves that they made a mistake, a fault, and that they somehow deserved this violence. This is what we find a lot in cases of sexual violence. We wonder what this woman was doing at a late hour in the street, what she was wearing, we wonder whether she had been drinking or not.
“We are always looking for the error, the fault that the victim may have committed for the violence to befall them.”
This is perhaps also why the Mazan rape trial has crystallized opinion so much. In this case, it is difficult to question the victim’s words. Without making a value judgment, Gisèle Pelicot is a “good victim” in the sense that good fathers understand it: she is of a certain age, she is socially integrated and she was unconscious at the time of the events. The presence of numerous physical evidence [des milliers de photos et vidéos ont été retrouvées dans l’ordinateur de Dominique Pelicot] also explains that it is more complicated to attack her, to question her credibility. This victim-blaming still floats during the trial. During the hearing, the president apologized for having to ask her if she was not an accomplice of her husband.
The attitude of Gisèle Pelicot, who refused to allow the hearing to be held behind closed doors and who dedicated “his fight” has “all victims of sexual violence”does it contribute to giving such an impact to the trial?
Yes, because it is a position that politicizes the subject. The media coverage of debates creates discussion within society. His refusal to hold the debate behind closed doors is a good response to the idea that what happens in the family sphere does not fall under the same crimes and offenses as those committed outside the home or that it should not be discussed. It is often said that we only wash our dirty linen in the family. However, the intimate is also political.
Are there any other reasons that you think can help us analyse why the audience is so resonant?
There is of course the spectacular side of the number of accused which gives this trial an extraordinary character. It almost falls under the criminal network, and yet it takes place in the family environment and is organized by the husband. It is necessarily very shocking and it raises questions.
I think there is also a synchronicity of events. This trial comes several years after the start of the MeToo movement, after all the work that has been done in the protests, in the books, on social media.
“This is in some ways the first major MeToo trial in France, because in these cases, we are often confronted with the statute of limitations, with dismissals, etc.”
I find it all the more striking that our first MeToo trial is that of “Mr. Average”. We have already seen cases that concerned a particular sector [dans le cinéma, la politique, l’armée, à l’hôpital…] or a type of behavior of a powerful man. With this trial, the subject is being broadened to all men. This may be a turning point.
You have worked on the media coverage of cases of violence against women, which you address in particular in your book. Undoing sexist discourse in the media. What is your view on the media coverage and comments in the public space surrounding this trial?
I feel like there is a certain radio silence from the critics. I don’t see many men criticizing feminists on this trial. Because, as I said, there is no real angle to attack the victim’s words. We can be happy about that in a way. But at the same time, we can’t help but think of all the other cases where there is no video evidence, or the victim is not seen as “exemplary”. This raises the question of what guarantees the patriarchal system requires to recognize the existence of a sexist and sexual crime or offense.
Can this trial change society on these issues?
I don’t know if this hearing will lead to judicial reforms or changes in the policy to combat sexist and sexual violence. But it will in any case change the representations. I am convinced of it. This trial sets in stone the idea that this violence is the work of “Mr. Average Joe”. Feminist activism has been promoting this idea for years. But perhaps in restricted circles. With this trial, it is certain that everyone now hears it. We can hope that this change in the representations around sexual and sexist violence will allow, in the long term, complaints to be better taken into account and victims to be believed more.