The trial of Gisèle Pelicot exposes the disturbing reality of consent ignorance, even among those convicted of sexual violence. This case underscores the need for more effective, comprehensive consent education to address widespread misconceptions on the topic of rape and assault.
CW: Sexual Assault
“No means no.” We’ve all heard the phrase, repeated in a variety of settings; ranging from public campaigns to Freshers’ Week consent workshops. Yet, despite this clear-cut message, consent continues to be misunderstood, misrepresented, and in some tragic cases, ignored. The recent trial of Gisèle Pelicot in France has brought these issues to the fore, forcing us to confront uncomfortable truths about the state of sexual consent laws, education, and attitudes – not just in France, but across the globe.
A case study in consent
Consent workshops have been a mandatory part of Freshers’ Week at Oxford University since 2016, in a bid to create a safer environment for students and initiate a more open conversation about the issue. While some colleges opt to carry out their own JCR welfare-led sessions, others opt for Oxford’s internal training system, CoSy, offering a comprehensive course dispelling myths on consent and its associated laws. Every one of us has sat through the excruciating awkwardness of these sessions, placed into groups of five or six people, whose names we might not even know yet. We’re presented with scenarios, then asked to decide whether or not consent was given. A typical example might read something like this:
“A 59-year-old woman lives in Avignon with her husband of 38 years. Between 2011 and 2020, he used an online chatroom to invite over 70 different men, aged from 21-68, to violate her. One of the perpetrators arrives, a 53-year-old baker and father of three. The woman is splayed on the bed, motionless and snoring; she is unconscious. Rape, or not rape?”
This was no imaginary scenario, but the horrifying reality for Gisèle Pelicot.
Over nine years, Dominique Pelicot, Gisèle’s husband, contacted men from all walks of life, including trusted professionals from nurses to journalists, to violate his wife whilst he filmed them. To most people, there is no question that this is rape – and indeed, the court in Avignon reached this verdict for 51 of the men guilty of these abominable crimes. But this clear-cut case did not stop almost a quarter of the convicted claiming that they had not realised Gisèle had not given her consent, or even that she was unconscious. This defence raises major questions about the state of consent education in France: it seems inconceivable to us as students who have been through the consent workshops offered at school and university, despite their flaws.
Other participants in the mass rape claim that they were coerced by the formidable Dominique, revealing the problematic emphasis of male influence in society. It’s perhaps sickeningly ironic that a group of consent-ignoring rapists argued that they ‘couldn’t say no’ to the demands of Gisèle Pelicot’s husband. This serves as a reminder that rape is a crime deeply rooted in misogynistic attitudes, reflecting a disregard for women and their rightful place as equals to men in society. The voices of men therefore continue to be unfairly prioritised over those of women. One video played during the trial shows Gisèle, eyes closed, tongue lolling from her mouth, rendering consent totally impossible. It seems banal that we still have to debate the basics of consent in the 21st century, so how can the argument of so many of the men be that they “didn’t know what consent was”?
A lack of knowledge
What was perhaps more concerning during the Pelicot trial was the argument that Gisèle’s husband gave consent for her. Many of the men during the trial argued that they were convinced they were taking part in a sex game with a consensual couple. Needless to say, there are no consensual couples, only individuals.
For the vast majority of us, consent is not a difficult thing to understand. Should we not know what consent is by the time we reach the age of 18? However, the reality is more complex. Research shows that many young people, particularly men, may not fully grasp the nuances of consent due to the widespread consumption of pornography, which often portrays explicitly non-consensual scenarios as normal or even desirable. This can lead to a distorted understanding of consent, with some individuals internalising harmful ideas about coercion, manipulation, and entitlement in sexual relationships. In fact, one YouGov survey indicated that 36% of British men, compared to 4% of women, consume pornography at least once a week. This has prompted growing concerns that these influences shape perceptions of what is acceptable behaviour. In order to keep such problems from worsening, it is therefore vital that secondary education provides adequate teaching on the subject. In many cases, comprehensive sex education is still lacking or inconsistent, often focusing on the biological aspects of sex rather than emotional, psychological, and ethical dimensions like consent. This leaves many young people ill-prepared for navigating complex situations around consent once they reach adulthood. Given these realities, it seems more necessary than ever that consent workshops at university are conducted – workshops that aim to challenge common misconceptions and provide clear, comprehensive education on the importance of mutual respect, communication, and boundaries in sexual relationships.
University consent workshops
The sessions conducted during Freshers’ Week are instrumental in explaining the nuances in body language, continuation, and withdrawal of consent. Many workshops attempt to address these nuances by exploring both real-life and hypothetical scenarios, to help participants understand that consent is an active process that can evolve throughout a situation. They emphasise that consent can be communicated not just verbally, but through physical cues and body language as well. However, the effectiveness of these sessions can vary. While some students report a deeper understanding of how consent works in practice, others feel that the workshops oversimplify complex issues or fail to address the subtleties involved, especially when it comes to non-verbal signals or ambiguous situations. Moreoever, as rape can take many different forms, the issue of consent is not black and white either. This raises issues with the application of a blanket law, leaving no room for nuance in situations which can turn out to be far more complicated than they first appear. French criminal law defines rape as a penetrative or oral sex act committed on someone using “violence, coercion, threat or surprise”. It makes no clear mention of the need for a partner’s consent and prosecutors must prove the intention to rape to secure a guilty verdict. What the men in the Pelicot trial failed to understand was that the absence of a ‘no’ is not a ‘yes’.
While this renders these educational workshops more necessary than ever, it is important to acknowledge that they are far from perfect. One college welfare rep told Cherwell: “The resources we are given by the SU are fairly fundamental and there is no guidance from college or the welfare professionals in it towards more effective resources.” It is also important to remember that a team of welfare reps and second-year volunteers now trying to educate had sat through the workshops themselves only a year ago, and received no formal training or guidance. In order for these workshops to succeed, they need to feel less like another obligation in the overwhelming Freshers’ Week timetable, and more like an essential step in educating the next generation of students. In order for this to be the case, the responsibility needs to be placed on trained professionals rather than welfare reps and well-meaning volunteers. Colleges or the central university must therefore increase funding to ensure resources are comprehensive and well-designed, and establish standardised, high-quality sessions that are regularly updated and tailored to students’ needs. Professional facilitators, with expertise in consent and sexual violence prevention, should lead these sessions, guaranteeing a more informed and impactful delivery.
Assault happens everywhere
The domestic setting of Gisèle’s ordeal reminds us that assault does not just take place in busy bars and clubs at the hands of a stranger. Dominique was seen as a loving father and caring grandfather to his three grandchildren. Nor was this an isolated incident carried out by one man, with so-called ‘disciples’ of Dominique Pelicot taking inspiration from his heinous crimes. Such copy-cat behaviours only highlight that rape and assault are not hypothetical moral quandaries, but the reality for women everywhere. According to the university-wide Our Space study from 2021, more than half of Oxford students reported being sexually harassed within a single year, and over one in five said they were victims of sexual touching or rape, demonstrating that universities can be a breeding ground for sexual harassment in the forms of both physical and verbal targeting. Despite all students having access to the free online consent platform ‘Consent for Students’, roughly two-thirds don’t complete the training. Granted, this is an improvement on the mere 949 from the previous year, but this only highlights the need for quality resources and training in mandated sessions. Freshers are simply unlikely to engage with over-simplified, seemingly obvious scenarios where they come away from sessions feeling bored and patronised.
Yet, even with such workshops in place, the defence used by the perpetrators in the Pelicot case – that they didn’t understand what consent truly meant – suggests a larger societal failure. If adults, particularly those of legal age, are still unclear about the concept of consent, what does this say about our educational systems and cultural attitudes towards sex? This misunderstanding of consent often manifests in dangerous ways, such as the defence used in the Pelicot case from one of the men that: “My body raped her, but my brain didn’t,” as if a lack of intention could erase the harm caused. This line of defence, which hinges on the claim that the accused didn’t understand the situation fully, is not only legally weak but morally reprehensible.
More needs to be done
The Gisèle Pelicot trial forces us to confront the harsh reality that, despite the good intentions behind consent workshops, much work remains to be done. Beatrice Zavarro, Dominique Pelicot’s lawyer, has said that she believes “change will not come from the Ministry of Justice but from the Ministry of Education”. This only highlights the need for systemic change. The Gisèle Pelicot trial teaches us that student consent workshops, whilst often simplistic and even a little condescending, are vital in ensuring that the excuse: “I didn’t know what consent was,” can never be used again. It’s about recognising that consent is not just a rule dictated in an isolated workshop, but a responsibility that we must actively enforce.
If anything in this article has made you uncomfortable, please do look at the resources provided by the University’s Sexual Harassment and Violence Support Service at the link: https://www.ox.ac.uk/students/welfare/supportservice.
