Handbook on Sexual Violence (60 page)

intentionally or unconsciously may operate in ways that inhibit the abilities of victims/survivors to speak and/or be heard. The next
section of this
chapter examines the dynamics associated with the six key silencing agents identified earlier.

1. The self
   

   Rape is a fundamental attack on the self, and an attempt to silence the self. Susan Brison, who survived a near-fatal rape and attempted murder in the south of France, later described:
   

   the difficulty of regaining one’s voice, one’s subjectivity, after one has been reduced to silence, to the status of an object, or, worse, made into someone else’s speech, an instrument of another’s agency.
   

   (Brison 2002: 55)
   

   Awareness has grown in recent years regarding the difficulties rape victims/ survivors experience naming and defining what has happened to them as rape, with one of the first to explore this phenomenon being Mary Koss. In a conference paper presented in 1980, she and Cheryl Oros made the distinction between ‘acknowledged’ and ‘unacknowledged’ rape victims to draw attention to how many women were unable to acknowledge that they had been raped (Koss and Oros 1980). Two key factors associated with women being unacknowledged rape victims involved issues regarding the victim– perpetrator relationship and the offender’s use of violence. Specifically, women were more likely not to acknowledge themselves as victims of rape when they knew the offender, had been romantically involved with him, and had a prior sexual relationship with him. Unacknowledged rape victims were also more likely than acknowledged rape victims to receive fewer threats of bodily harm and experience less offender violence. The authors concluded that the differences between these two groups arose more from these situational factors than from attitudinal factors associated with the internal belief systems of the women, given that there was virtually no difference in adherence to rape-supportive beliefs between acknowledged and unacknowledged rape victims (Koss and Oros 1980).
   

   Greater understanding of women’s struggles to define themselves as rape victims later emerged from Liz Kelly’s research showing how few women are able or willing to label their experiences of forced sex as rape (Kelly 1988). Their reluctance reflects in part a confusion regarding the nature of rape, and the predominance of ‘real rape’ stereotypes (Brown and Horvath 2009; Estrich 1987; Fisher
   et al.
   2003; Jordan 2004; Kelly 2002; Lea
   et al
   . 2003; O’Keeffe
   et al
   . 2009; Temkin and Krah´e 2008). The continuum of sexual violence Kelly posited demonstrated clearly how the legal polarities of rape and consensual sex fail to reflect the grey and complex dynamics surrounding many women’s experiences of intercourse, and the extent to which elements of pressure and coercion feature prominently in their relationships and sexual encounters. This has been more recently explored and further validated in Nicola Gavey’s
   

   work questioning the extent to which experiences closer to, or equating with, rape are frequently accepted by women as ‘just sex’ (Gavey 2005). Both her and Liz Kelly’s research demonstrate that, in contrast to prevailing myths suggesting that women are constantly crying rape, they more typically minimise their experiences of coercive sex and refrain from labelling the men in their lives as abusers and rapists (Gavey 2005; Kelly 1988).
   

   The complexities of the continuum of women’s experiences are not easily accommodated within the rigid distinctions of the law. Police officers evaluating allegations of rape typically display limited awareness of the structural and contextual variables surrounding its occurrence, operating instead with high and often unrealistic expectations of women’s abilities to say ‘no’ and men’s willingness to hear and respect their wishes. What I have heard many police officers articulate is their belief that complaints of rape frequently follow episodes of what they term ‘regretful sex’, implying women are willing participants until they wake or sober up next morning and recall the reasons why they should have said no. The apparent police commitment to this concept minimises, even ignores, the various ways men might coerce women or use alcohol and drugs to secure their compliance. It is little surprise that high numbers of victims refrain from labelling their experiences as rape and mute themselves in its aftermath.
   

   Sceptics might ask: how do we know that so many women silence themselves? The short answer is that we may not be able to say how many, since we are trying to measure something resisting knowledge of its own existence, but we know many do. We are given clues on several fronts. One is in the way that so many victims decide to speak out many years after having been raped or abused. In Koss’s later Sexual Experiences Study, for example, 42 per cent of those participating had told no one about what had happened until the safety of an anonymous questionnaire enabled them to do so (Koss
   et al
   1987). Many of the women could not, or would not, label what had happened to them as rape, yet when researchers analysed their descriptions of what happened during the incident, it was clear that many had in fact been subjected to behaviours conforming with legal definitions of rape.
   

   A second indicator is that research evidence consistently shows that a minority of women who have been raped report such occurrences to the police. This is evident in the discrepancy between the findings of victimisation studies compared with police statistics on reported rapes. Research conducted in the United Kingdom (Painter 1991) indicated that one in four women would experience rape or attempted rape during their lifetime, with over 90 per cent telling no one at the time. Other research has estimated a lifetime probability of 50 per cent for rape victimisation, suggesting that as many as one in every two females will experience at least one incident of rape in her lifetime (Sheffield 1994, cited in Ferro
   et al
   . 2008). While more recent studies suggest an increased willingness to tell someone what has happened (for example Myhill and Allen 2002; Walby and Allen 2004), that person is more likely to be a friend or family member than a police officer. Furthermore, despite alleged improvements within policing and a spate of legislative reforms, recent British Crime Survey results indicate that less than half of those who are raped break the silence and tell anyone at all (Kelly
   et al
   2005;
   

   Myhill and Allen 2002; Walby and Allen 2004).
   

   A further factor indicating self-silencing behaviour comes from counsellors and agency workers who report that significant numbers of those approaching them in need of support are victims of historical rapes, incidents that their clients describe as events they wished to bury and deny but which keep interfering with their lives (Burgess and Hazelwood 1999; Gordon and Riger 1991; Ventegodt
   et al
   . 2005). These individuals may self-silence for many years, with shame being one key factor often associated with victims/survivors feeling unworthy of recognition. As Judith Herman has so aptly described, in the crime of rape:
   

   [t]he perpetrator seeks to establish his dominance not only by terrorizing the victim but also, often most effectively, by shaming her. Crimes of dominance have a ritualized element designed to isolate the victim and to degrade her in the eyes of others.
   

   (Herman 2005: 572–573)
   

   However, just as the self can silence recognition of the experience of rape, even for many years, so also can the self speak of rape, with some survivors consciously acknowledging in their accounts the difficult decision they had to make to break their silence. Relevant here also are the cultural expectations that may influence victims initially to seek to smooth over ruptures and restore social relationships, minimising their pain and the harm suffered in the process. While a woman may decide it is necessary to mute her voice in the immediate aftermath of rape, as she heals she may regain her voice and speak out – only to find her speech regarded with suspicion and any inconsistencies highlighted as ‘evidence’ of her falsehood. In the unlikely event of the case reaching court,
   

   Defence counsel draws on themes of breached silence to craft a courtroom story of the lying woman, thus by definition revising the rape narrative to one of consensual sex.
   

   (Taslitz 1999: 25)
   

   Similar inferences have been made in response to adults disclosing their experiences of childhood sexual abuse, with one of the most extreme forms of self-silencing – repression – attracting high levels of sceptical and even vitriolic criticism. Not only has this resulted in the discrediting of victims/survivors, it has also been accompanied by an undermining of the credibility of the therapists treating them, some of whom have been accused of creating and implanting ‘false memories’ (Herman and Harvey 1993; Porter
   et al
   . 1999). Disempowering and devaluing the therapists emerges as a means of muting them as well as their clients.
   

   So far this discussion has considered the role of the self as the silencing agent, rather than considering to what extent the self is being silenced by others. While external silencing agents will shortly be examined, discussion concerning the role of the self would be incomplete if it failed to mention that the decision to speak out can be a recurring dilemma for victims/survivors of
   

   rape rather than a one-off choice. The reactions of those around them to their disclosures can have significant impacts on whether or not they continue to speak, and in which contexts. This issue was explored in a qualitative study where eight women were taken as a subsample from a larger study and interviewed to ascertain why they had initially disclosed rape then silenced themselves (Ahrens 2006). Key factors associated with the decision to become silent again involved negative reactions from professionals or from family friends, leading to the women sometimes feeling uncertain whether what they had experienced was rape, as well as feeling either that disclosure was ineffective or that other people’s responses caused them to blame themselves for the rape. Even with such a small sample, the length of time the women chose to remain silent following a negative response to their initial disclosure of rape ranged from nine months to 19 years (Ahrens 2006).
   

   It is easy to assume that speaking out about rape is a healthier and automatically more positive option than staying silent. Predictions based on immunology research, for instance, suggest that long periods of inhibiting emotional expression can be injurious to both psychological and physical health (Pennebaker 1988, 1989, cited in Ahrens 2006). For some victims/ survivors of rape, however, the choice to remain silent is based on their attempts to avoid the negative reactions they fear will follow disclosure (Ahrens 2006). Given the adverse impacts negative reactions can have on victim/survivor well-being (Campbell
   et al
   . 1999; Campbell
   et al
   . 2001; Golding
   et al
   . 1989; Filipas and Ullman 2001; Littleton
   et al
   . 2006; Ullman and Filipas 2001; Ullman
   et al
   . 2006), in this sense the decision to remain silent may at times constitute a measure of self-preservation.
   

   From this perspective it is possible to view the unacknowledged rape victim as more unacknowledging than unacknowledged. While the latter has connotations of victims being locked in a fixed state, shifting the language to the active voice enables recognition of victim agency. Decisions around disclosure, even disclosing to oneself, may shift with time in response to changes in internal and external factors. Just as the self can silence, so can it dare to speak. It is also possible that the ability to survive rape may be enhanced by disclosure, should those being disclosed to respond with empathy and sensitivity (Littleton
   et al
   . 2006). The next sectio
   ns of this
   chapter summarise how the responses of others can also contribute to the silencing of victims’ voices.
   

2. The police
   

   The ways in which formal agencies respond to disclosures of rape hold both the potential for validation and the risk of disempowerment. This has been well researched with respect to police responses to women’s allegations of rape victimisation. Many studies have demonstrated the benefits derived from a positive police response, particularly for victim/survivor well-being as well as for community safety when such allegations result in an offender being held accountable (Gregory and Lees 1999; Jordan 2001; Kingi and Jordan 2009; McMillan and Thomas 2009). The opposite impacts, however, have also been
   

   demonstrated; namely that when disclosures are met with negative unaffirming responses, these may enhance the initial harm experienced by the victim/survivor while leaving offender behaviour unchecked (Campbell
   et al
   . 2001b; Gregory and Lees 1999; Jordan 2004; Madigan and Gamble 1991; McMillan and Thomas 2009). Not being able to hear or validate a disclosure of rape can result from conscious and intentional responses, such as by blaming victims for ‘getting themselves raped’. It can also occur unintentionally through responses arising from ignorance, where the persons receiving the information lack understanding of how to respond appropriately and supportively.
   

   The first way in which the police may be associated with the silencing of rape victims’ voices is indirectly, when fears about how they will respond can be a key factor inhibiting victims from reporting rape (Du Mont
   et al
   . 2003; Bachman 1993; Burt and Katz 1985; Epstein and Langenbahn 1994; Freckelton 1998; Gartner and Macmillan 1995; Koss
   et al
   . 1987; LeDoux and Hazelwood 1999; Myhill and Allen 2002; Spohn and Horney 1992; Temkin and Krahe´ 2008). While in recent years many police organisations have sought to improve their responses, we should not assume that the barriers to disclosure have been removed. The reasons for victims/survivors deciding not to report remain complex, with rape myths still pervasive in their ability to affect how victims, perpetrators, criminal justice system workers and the public view and respond to rape (Bohner
   et al
   . 2009; Lovett and Horvath 2009; Munro and Kelly 2009; Stanko and Williams 2009; Temkin and Krahe´ 2008). A frequently accepted estimate suggests that only one in ten rapes are reported to the police, with some studies finding a reporting rate of only 5 per cent (Koss
   et al
   . 1987). Rape has been identified as the most under-reported crime, with the factors affecting reporting including the victim–offender relationship, extent of visible injuries, and fear of how others, including police, might react (Gilmore and Pittman 1993; Kelly 2002; Myhill and Allen 2002; Sable
   et al
   . 2006).
   

   When asked to identify factors affecting their willingness to report,
   

   commonly mentioned by victims/survivors is their fear that the police will not believe them (Fisher
   et al
   . 2003; Jordan 2001, 2004; Kelly
   et al
   . 2005; Stern 2010). This fear is not ungrounded, given the high levels of police scepticism identified in the 1970s and 1980s (Gregory and Lees 1999; Jordan 2004; Young 1983). Such attitudes were visibly apparent in the shocking documentary screened in England in 1983 showing a detective interrogating a woman as she made a complaint of rape (Adler 1987; Gregory and Lees 1999; Smith 1989). While screened with the intention of highlighting skilled police interviewing techniques, the brutal interrogation caused such a public outcry that the police department involved subsequently spent many years trying to ‘live this incident down’ (Gregory and Lees 1999: 4). Since then a range of measures have been introduced aimed at improving police responses. These have included specialist training for detectives undertaking adult sexual assault investigations as well as improvements to the physical environments in which victims are interviewed and examined.
   

   It is frequently assumed that changes in legislation and policy will automatically result in changes in practice and improved experiences for victims. More recent research with rape complainants offers some reassurance
   

   that the worst excesses are less likely to occur. For instance, a recent New Zealand study based on interviews with 36 victims/survivors who had reported an incident of sexual violence to the police found that more than two-thirds (68 per cent) retrospectively said they were ‘satisfied’ or ‘very satisfied’ with the way the police had dealt with them (Kingi and Jordan 2009). A minority of respondents in this study referred to experiencing the police as cold and insensitive or disbelieving. However, other evidence suggests continuing high levels of scepticism with police having the capacity to silence victims by disbelieving their accounts of rape. In an environmental scan of agencies and key informants that respond to victims/survivors of sexual violence, nearly one third of respondents (29 per cent) identified the fear of not being believed as a significant factor discouraging victims/survivors from reporting to the police (Mossman
   et al
   . 2009). Concerns regarding not being believed or taken seriously were expressed particularly in relation to the following groups: sex workers; people with mental health issues; people who had made a previous sexual violation complaint; male victims/survivors; and women raped by their partners (Mossman
   et al
   . 2009). While community service providers were concerned that genuine cases risked being wrongly labelled as ‘false’ complaints, some police respondents alluded to false complaints being extremely common, with one stating: ‘I would guess from 16 months on crime squad that about 60–70 percent of reported sex violation cases are false complaints’ (quoted in Mossman
   et al
   . 2009: 95). Other research also confirms continuing police adherence to beliefs in excessively high numbers of false complaints (Gregory and Lees 1999; Kelly
   et al
   . 2005), and, as O’Keeffe
   et al
   . have recently asserted: ‘[I]t still seems to be the case that disbelief is the default position’ (O’Keeffe
   et al
   . 2009: 252). These studies indicate the difficulties and challenges posed in relation to achieving significant attitude change within police organisations, in ways parallel to what Krah´e and Temkin have asserted regarding the limited success likely to derive from law reform measures when the attitudes of those within the system remain largely unchanged (Krahe´ and Temkin 2009).
   

   The police may also silence victims unintentionally through responding in ways experienced as invalidating by complainants. This can occur, for example, in contexts where police may decide to cease investigation of a case because they consider there is insufficient evidence to proceed. Commentators have observed that the way the adversarial justice system operates effectively places a responsibility on the police to anticipate likely case outcomes should the complaint proceed to trial, with views about convincing cases based on stereotypes (Brown
   et al
   . 2007; Munro and Kelly 2009). Unless such decisions are communicated in a supportive and validating way, complainants in cases where police determine there is insufficient evidence to proceed can experience such decision-making as a form of silencing.
   

   The ways in which complainants are interviewed can also function to silence, even partially. Some commentators have argued that assigning male police to interview women rape complainants immediately places barriers interrupting full and frank disclosure (Goodstein and Lutze 1992; Pike 1992). The assumption that victims of sexual violence would be more appropriately dealt with by female officers has seen some police departments specifically
   

   deploying women in such roles (Brown
   et al
   . 1993; Goodstein and Lutze 1992; Martin 1997; Pike 1992). Research on the significance of gender suggests the issue is not straightforward – while some victims may express a preference for being interviewed by policewomen, many maintain that the most important attributes in an interviewer are such qualities as a caring professionalism; qualities neither the male nor female gender have a monopoly over (Brown and Heidensohn 2000; Heidensohn 1992; Jordan 2002). In fact, to survive within a highly masculinist culture, some policewomen can display a distinct lack of empathy towards victims whom they judge as ‘getting themselves raped’ and be harsher in attitude than some of their male colleagues (Jordan 2002, 2004; Martin 1997; Toner 1982). Furthermore, female detectives in a study I conducted described how even when complainants found male detectives supportive and professional, some were not able to disclose the most personal and potentially shaming aspects of the rape to them, reserving these for when experienced women officers subsequently reinterviewed them (Jordan 2009).
   

   Complainants may also feel silenced by police when they are met with attitudes suggesting officers blame victims or perceive them as partially responsible for the rape. This can lead to some complainants attempting to conceal aspects of their own behaviour that they fear being judged about. One context in which this may arise is in relation to the volume of alcohol consumed by the complainant. Awareness of the prevalence of victim-blaming attitudes around female intoxication can influence complainants to report having consumed significantly less than they actually had on the night in question (Jordan 2004). The result can be a silencing spiral, whereby their omission and silence about factors seen as contributory result in increased levels of police scepticism regarding their allegation of rape, which in turn can lead to their withdrawing the complaint and opting to stay silent.