Handbook on Sexual Violence (106 page)

It is possible to assess the contribution of each of the chapters to this volume

in different ways but, arguably, taken together, they make the case for understanding the ‘lived reality’ of sexual violence not dissimilar to that made by both Kelly (1988) and Genn (1988). Whether exploring particular acts of sexual violence, or responses to such violence, appreciating the lived reality of both victims and perpetrators is perhaps central to making the shift in attitudes and behaviour commented on by INSTRAW, and a constituent element to the problem of implementation failure discussed above. The ‘lived reality’ of sexual violence that Kelly’s work was so concerned to capture is also that which the criminal justice process still struggles with the most, as Kelly herself observes in the Preface to this volume. This is especially the case when the parties

concerned are likely to be known to each other. That which takes place in private, its contested, intimate and potentially embarrassing sexual nature, alongside the perceived gender differentials in consequences, all contribute to difficulties in reporting, recording and successfully prosecuting such cases. Moreover, as Kelly comments in the Preface, if we take both gender and intersectionality on board then to speak out at all can create further problems, risks and dangers. The prime example here would be so-called ‘honour’ crimes. Indeed in a recent study by Weiss (2010: 304) she comments on the power of shame for both male and female victims that results in the fact that ‘many victims tell no one about what happened, even their own family and friends, hindering a significant source of emotional support that can help with recovery after crime’. This is a finding that echoes the observations made by Jan Jordan in this collection on how victims can be differently silenced. In restating the case for an appreciation of the ‘lived reality’ of sexual violence our contributors also reassert the significance of Kelly’s conceptual invention of the notion of a continuum of sexual violence. Yet the implementation focus still reflects a failure to grasp sexual violence in this way.

Kelly’s continuum alerts us to the frequency of sexual violence’s occurrence as common rather than rare and to the high levels of unreported incidences of such violence. Also key to this continuum is the idea that sexual violence arises out of the normal routines of everyday life, the purpose of which is to exert control, most often by men over women, but as this collection illustrates not exclusively, either by extremes of violence or by ‘sexual innuendo’ (see Chapters
8 and
18 by Jones and by Hoel and Lewis). The theoretical chapters in Part Two offer particular ways in which Kelly’s conceptualisation may be used and extended to contextualise and connect with understandings of sexual violence more generally. Thus Jo Phoenix’s analysis of sexual violence within prostitution challenges the concept of consent by introducing the notion of choice: the choice made to conduct an impersonal commercial transaction, i.e. selling sex. This kind of conceptual extension enables us to map the consequences of sexual violence in the light of the degree of control women may have and the choices they make, both of which may lead to a range of different outcomes. Choice is taken here to mean an internal state where the external expression of agreement (or not), verbal or non-verbal, may be congruent or incongruent with each other. Figure
C.1 offers an illustration of this.

Choice (externally expressed)

Outcome

Normative

Commercialised

Compliant

Non-consensual

Unacknowledged
Rape
Sexual assault

Figure C.1
Different outcomes of sexual behaviours

The anchor points are the most straightforward and easily recognisable: mutually agreed sex and coerced sex under duress. It is the incongruent pairings that are the more problematic to interpret, for example a 15-year-old wanting sex cannot legally consent and thus the intercourse is unlawful; a sexually active woman who may not be inclined to have sex with her partner on the occasion of his returning home drunk but complies because of the possibility of other consequences is unlikely to define this as rape (Clarke
et al
. 2002). These different pathways can help to account for the large number of unreported sexual assaults from the unwanted and unacknowledged categories. They also point to the difficulties for prosecuting and investigating authorities in taking forward rape allegations in cases where there may be a degree of ambiguity about consent as a function of the combination of control and choice. Thus, taking on Phoenix’s formulation of impersonalised commercial sex, this arises out of a choice women (or men) may make to engage in a commercially transacted sexual encounter, i.e. sex for money. So the decision to go into prostitution can be the result of intentional choice in which the sex is consensual but is clearly rather different from a mutually agreed romantic sexual encounter, or indeed sex as a consequence of trafficking. The absence of control and non-consensual sex leads more readily to the Estrich notion of ‘real rape’ (Estrich 1987) whilst the unwanted category maps onto the simple rape scenario that proves so problematic to police and prosecutors.

Thus more sophisticated and connected theorising, as called for by Kelly in the Preface, may create a stronger conceptual basis to develop policies and avoid implementation failure. This implies, as Helen Jones argues, redefining violence as a crime, extending what might be included in that redefinition (see for example the discussion of forced marriage and female genital mutilation by Walby
et al
.) and leads into an agenda for change that Sheila Coates’s practitioner commentary eloquently asks for: mandatory training for all police officers; specialised services for victims of sexual violence; preventative strategies; co-ordination of responses; and sustained funding. If such pleadings are to successfully translate into policy, Rein (1983: 71) proposes incentivising those at the front line of implementation by sweetening reform with ‘more funding and more comprehensive information’. This he argues is more likely to invoke support and co-operation from professionals than incur sabotage. Implementation viewed in this way becomes part of a policy practice continuum appropriately funded and focused in which the contending views of stakeholders are worked out at each stage. (This carries interesting implications on the need for a
continuum
in policy responses too.) However, as we have seen within this volume, many of our contributors have been concerned to document and comment on policy and practice responses to sexual violence, thus supporting the need to look for better means of implementation.

Horvath and Yexley, for example, document the extensive nature of policy and practical training changes that have been introduced in policing and McGregor notes the developments in relation to the law. Yet despite these interventions the silencing experienced by women, and some men, still persists. The observations of Jan Jordan and Sheila Coates are particularly

powerful in this respect. However, if we look to policy responses outside of policing, Kate Cook on voluntary sector, Hazel Kemshall on criminal justice professional responses outwith policing, and Campbell on health professional responses, all point to the difficulties faced when such policy responses fail to appreciate the lived reality of violence. This is a lived reality that gives voice to some and not to others. Traditionally, those seen as legitimate victims are given a voice, a process that reflects all kinds of assumptions about who is more readily assigned victim status. As both Steph Petrie and David Shannon illustrate, the failure to appreciate the competencies of children in dealing with their experiences of exposure to sexual violence is a significant lacuna in all of the policy responses referred to here. Of course, for many professionals (and others), dealing with ‘incidents’ rather than ‘processes’, in a performance indicator driven culture, is not only easier, it is what is valued and what is rewarded. Leaving aside the way in which sexual violence is differently addressed dependent upon whether it is viewed as a criminal justice (Kemshall) issue or a health issue (Campbell), the importance of appreciating this wider policy context is commented on by Petrie, Horvath and Yexley, Kemshall and Westmarland. Thus it must be said that, whilst the police have been at the forefront concerning criticism in responding to sexual violence, they are not the only body to face the question of implementation failure.