In September, a horrifying story of the mass drugging and raping of a French woman began to trickle into newspapers across the country. As the story gained momentum and details emerged, it began to feel like a bad mini-series, the kind you’d watch the first episode of before declaring it too far-fetched. You’d turn it off.
Only Gisèle Pelicot’s story is real. It’s true that her husband drugged her most nights for a decade so that he could perform sex acts on her that she would never agree to while conscious. It’s true that he recruited up to 80 strangers he found online to come over and have their way with her near-lifeless body. It’s true that he meticulously documented these rapes and sexual assaults, storing countless videos and photos in a file called “abuse”. And it’s true that the vast majority of the 51 men on trial for these crimes refused to acknowledge that Gisèle was not a willing participant.
As Gisèle’s story became more prominent, supporters started showing up to the courthouse to welcome her there every morning and cheer her out every afternoon. Then protests started across the country, with thousands of people declaring that they are also Gisèle, that stories like hers are not uncommon. Gisèle became the face of a new reckoning in France, which largely dismissed 2017’s #MeToo movement.
France’s Problem With Women
France has long struggled with recognition and accountability of sexual misconduct and misogyny. In 2018, more than 100 French women signed a letter denouncing the #MeToo movement, viewing it less as a way to protect women and more a sign that a very American brand of feminism had washed up on its shores.
This year, though, the French #MeToo movement (named #BalanceTonPorc (#ExposeYourPig)) emerged with renewed energy even before the world knew about Gisèle. The New York Times reported in April that after experiencing abuse when she was younger, the actor and director Judith Godrèche has been campaigning to “expose the abuse of children and women that she believes is stitched into the fabric of French cinema”. She also appeared before the French Parliament and demanded an inquiry into sexual violence in the industry and protective measures for children.
“While there is still perhaps more scepticism in France than in the US about the legitimacy of sexual assault and sexual harassment, these attitudes are changing fast, especially as a younger generation of women and French feminists and their male allies … are willing to confront these issues head-on,” Laura Frader, a professor of history emerita at Northeastern University who studies gender attitudes in Europe, told Vox. “The Pelicot case is certain to contribute to this trend.” Contribute, yes – but whether anything changes remains to be seen.
The Good News
It’s rare to see rape convictions in France. According to the country’s Public Policy Institute, 94 per cent of reported cases were dropped in 2020 and an estimated 20 to 15 per cent resulted in a criminal conviction.
So the fact that her ex-husband has been given the maximum sentence of 20 years in prison (a sentence that’s long but not long enough – although given that he’s in his 70s and is in poor health, it could be a life sentence), and that all of the co-defendants have been found guilty of sexual assault, attempted rape or rape, is a massive victory for Gisèle.
But Will Anything Change After Gisèle Pelicot?
Gisèle has said that she wants to live a quiet life now the trial has ended. When her story fades from the spotlight, will anything look different?
A survey from 2022 found that there has been “significant” progress in the understanding of rape since the #MeToo movement, and the use of “significant” here is especially concerning when you consider that in the survey, one-fifth of French people still said they do not view forcing their partner to have sex as rape, and nearly 10 per cent said that forcing sex on someone who is drunk or asleep or incapable of expressing consent is not rape. (Among men ages 18 to 24, that number was closer to 30 per cent.)
If a global movement like #MeToo wasn’t enough to overhaul societal attitudes, will Gisèle’s story resonate?
One of the biggest issues facing rape and sexual assault victims is the way French law defines rape: as an “act of sexual penetration” committed “by violence, coercion, threat or surprise”. (Gisèle’s case fell under the “surprise” category, which feels more than a little reductive.) The concept of consent is notably absent, sending the message that you can help yourself to anyone you please, as long as you’re not violent about it.
Why this is the legal definition is hard to wrap your head around. In 2022, lawmakers in the European Union wanted to introduce a blanket definition of rape across all 27 bloc countries. “It is the only way to guarantee that all EU countries put into their national law that sex without consent is rape, and that all European women are equally protected,” the Socialists and Democrats group said in a statement. France, along with Germany and the Netherlands, rejected that definition. For its part, France said that because rape falls under criminal law, each EU country was responsible for determining its own definition. It’s still not clear, though, why it doesn’t include consent.
While some feminists and women’s rights activists are demanding a consent-based definition, others are pushing back on it because they think it will put the onus on the woman to prove she didn’t consent, rather than on the man to prove that he had received consent.
The state of play leading up to Gisèle’s case against her ex-husband was for prosecutors to determine intent to rape. Most of the men in the courtroom leaned on that defense, arguing that because they did not think they were raping Gisèle, they couldn’t have raped her. That was never their intention, and so they are innocent.
What Now?
By opening the trial to the public, Gisèle wanted to show the world how poorly rape victims are treated when they seek justice. We saw how the issue of consent was dismissed over and over again, by both the men on trial and their lawyers.
During the trial, defence attorney Paul-Roger Gontard said: “There’s rape and there’s rape,” seemingly trying to make it seem like the defendants were guilty of rape-lite – a sex game with a willing couple gone wrong, in which Gisèle was an accomplice. Gisèle reportedly responded, “No, there are no different types of rape. Rape is rape.” Gontard apologised, saying he was trying to differentiate between the legal definition of rape and the “media” definition. The fact that there are two definitions is shocking.
Gisèle reopened the debate about whether the definition should be changed. France has taken steps in recent years to toughen punishment for rape and sexual misconduct, and President Emmanuel Macron promised to tackle domestic abuse and violence against women. Still, the definition of rape remains unchanged.
The country’s new justice minister, Didier Migaud, has suggested that the law could be amended after the trial. “I believe it is beyond understanding for our fellow citizens to refuse to include consent in the definition of rape,” Migaud said. Macron agreed, saying he was in favour of updating the law, but is infamously unreliable on the topic. According to The New York Times, he called himself an admirer of the actor Gérard Depardieu, who has been accused of sexual harassment and assault (which he denies). “One thing you’ll never see me in is a manhunt,” Mr. Macron said on French television.
Other politicians have also started calling for change. Parliament’s Delegation for Women’s Rights, a cross-party working group of 36 lawmakers, has reopened work on a bill that would redefine the legal definition of rape.
In a nearly four-month stroke of bravery and genius, Gisèle threw open the doors to shine a light on the appalling treatment of women at the hands of society and the justice system. In this instance, justice has been served as well as it can be. It remains to be seen whether the law will keep up.
