A degrading discourse

Another brutal gang-rape and murder, this time with the added twist of a gruesome attempt to destroy the woman’s body by burning it.

Another round of unsolicited, unthinking comments and advisories from ministers, police officers and others on who women should reach out to and, more generally, what they should and should not do to avoid rape.

Another cycle of outrage and protest, including the by now predictable calls for the death penalty and castration but this time also, shockingly coming right out of Parliament, for public lynching, as the only acceptable forms of justice for the crime.

Another bout of frenzied discussion on social media, some of it expectedly blaming the victim and all but justifying rape if women insist on going about their lives like normal human beings, and others bizarrely attempting to use the tragedy as yet another occasion for Muslim-baiting and bashing.

Another passing phase in which sexual assault is back with a bang on the news agenda, evident in the sudden, noticeable spike in reports on rapes across the country, even as some coverage of the Hyderabad case violated both legal and ethical guidelines.

Another set of discussions about safer cities, more and safer public transport, better street lighting and, of course, more CCTV cameras, on the one hand, and about further amendments to the law, fast track courts, and the like, on the other.

Another series of suggestions about apps, devices, products, services, training and other interventions that can help women protect and defend themselves, especially while out late in public spaces.

Clearly, the gang-rape and murder of a 26-year-old veterinary doctor on the outskirts of Hyderabad in the last week of November touched a raw nerve, the public response to it reminiscent of the spontaneous public reaction to the particularly brutal gang-rape and subsequent death of a 23-year-old physiotherapy student in Delhi in 2012. Sadly, however, as in the past, the numerous other rapes reported over the past week (five on the day the Hyderabad atrocity came to light) – including rapes of children – have not generated similar levels of outrage. It is sobering to remember that the latest available official data puts the number of reported rapes in India at nearly 33,000 in a single year (2017).

Sporadic, even selective, outrage is certainly better than consistent indifference. However, there is a problem when the response is largely limited to calls for “justice” – invariably retributive justice in the form of death, officially sanctioned or otherwise – in particular cases. Such cases are typically those in which the socio-economic profiles of the victim/survivor and the perpetrators are conveniently different, with the latter belonging to the working class (if not underclass).

The bloodthirsty clamour in Parliament, with at least one MP calling for extrajudicial public lynching, is particularly reprehensible. According to the Association for Democratic Reform (ADR), nearly half the current members of the Lok Sabha (43%) themselves have criminal charges against them; nearly a third (29%) of the cases are related to rape, other crimes against women, murder and/or attempt to murder. The number of MPs – across parties – with serious criminal cases against them has apparently increased by 109% since 2009.

It is surely time for lawmakers to set their own house in order. And also, if their knowledge is so limited and memories so short, to attend a refresher course on the history of the laws relating to rape in India from the 1980s onwards and, especially, the extraordinarily consultative process undertaken in the aftermath of the 2012 gang-rape, which led to the Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2013.

The course should also include case studies of rape cases as they wend their protracted, tortuous way through the courts, with survivors brave enough to seek justice under the law being subjected to further attack and abuse from the accused, lawyers and, all too often, even judges. As a reputed lawyer with considerable experience in prosecuting such cases wrote on Facebook this week, “The law doesn’t need amendments… The execution of the law leaves much to be desired. More importantly, we need to change the way we think and act, because regressive thought seeps into the execution process, failing women time and time again.”

It is ironic that just this week, a judge in the Karnataka High Court not only allowed defence arguments aimed at discrediting a survivor with insinuations about her character and background but quoted copiously from them while granting bail to the accused. And that, according to the lawyer mentioned above, a similar scenario unfolded in another court, with the survivor being “slut shamed, threatened, intimidated, insulted and bullied.”

The one good thing about the discussion sparked off by the crime in Hyderabad is that this time there was more focus on what has been the elephant in the room so far: the fact that the one common feature of most rapes is that the perpetrator is almost invariably male (even when the victim/survivor, too, is male or transgender). It is also encouraging that some men joined women in highlighting the fact that the only antidote to rape is a good dose of self-reflection by men, including those who would never dream of raping anyone but do participate – actively or passively – in the rape culture that excuses or otherwise tolerates sexual violence and thereby makes rape seem inevitable, if not entirely acceptable.

Popular Indian cinema is an influential purveyor of rape culture. Jaya Bachchan, a prominent veteran of the film industry, ought to try and change that instead of fulminating and advocating lynching in Parliament.