The way we talk about sexual violence—whether in high-profile cases involving individuals such as Dominique Pelicot, or when referring to so-called “grooming gangs”— relies on simplistic binaries. Perpetrators are either portrayed as “ordinary men,” whose actions are seen as isolated, or as “pathological deviants,” part of an extreme and abnormal group. While seemingly distinct, both these narratives work to obscure the broader social and economic and institutional conditions that facilitate such violence.
Regardless of the ethnic or religious background of those involved in sexual violence, there remains a consistency in the underlying issues of power, inequality, and state failure. In this article, I want to encourage a move away from reductive ‘cultural’ explanations. Instead, I will aim to move towards a more nuanced understanding of how systems of exploitation—whether economic, social or political—shape environments where violent cultures emerge and persist.
Dominique Pelicot is a French man convicted of aggravated rape; he drugged his wife, Gisèle Pelicot, and facilitated her rape by himself and at least 72 other men. The media discourse surrounding the case presented Pelicot as a deviant whose actions result from personal deficiency. He and the numerous other men convicted are presented as unique and unusual cases—isolated instances of individual depravity. These are deviants who live amongst, but are distinct from, good “ordinary” men. This fits into a broader narrative which positions sexual violence as a personal moral failure rather than a reflection of broader societal structures that entrench male dominance and normalise forms of coercion.
This framing obscures the broader reality of sexual violence in society, which is a pervasive issue in France and beyond. The French National Observatory on Violence Against Women estimates that 94,000 women experience rape or attempted rape each year. A 2020 report by the French National Institute of Statistics (INSEE) found that one in seven women (14%) in France have experienced sexual violence at some point in her life. Of course, this pattern is not unique to France. In the UK, the Office for National Statistics (ONS) estimates that approximately 773,000 adults experienced sexual assault (including attempted assault) in the year ending March 2022, with women accounting for over 80% of victims (ONS, 2023).
Turning to the framing round “grooming gangs,” a different kind of binary emerges. Perpetrators are often framed, not just as deviant individuals, but as members of a larger, dangerous cohort. The latter is imagined as a cohesive group whose violence is directly linked to their ethnic background or cultural practices. Here, the perpetrators are not only seen as monstrous, but as part of a systematic threat to (white/British) society: a foreign incursion into our ‘good’ society.
Both narratives, however, operate within the same flawed logic. They focus on the individual(s) rather than the material and institutional conditions that enable violence, abuse and exploitation. By pathologising the violence, either within an individual or specific (racialised) groups of people, we make the argument that the violence is inevitable—these are inherent, fixed, unchangeable conditions. This prevents us from considering the possibility that violence can be prevented and, importantly, from addressing the intersections of economic precarity, class-based marginalisation, and state neglect. It also erase the ubiquitous presence of misogyny that creates environments where sexual violence can flourish. In both cases, we are encouraged to focus on who the perpetrators are, rather than asking how social and economic hierarchies create the conditions where such violence can be normalised or ignored.
Exploitation and inequality create environments where violence can take root and persist. When we focus on essentialist explanations, we risk overlooking the deeper social and economic conditions that enable abuse. Sexual violence is not an aberration, nor is it confined to any one racial or ethnic group—it is symptomatic of deeper social and structural issues that transcend individual cases.
Turning to the case of so-called “grooming gangs,” in northern towns such as Rochdale and Rotherham, institutional neglect, poverty and classism played a central role in the perpetuation of exploitation and sexual violence. This failure is compounded by racialised fears and political interests that prioritise moral panic over effective intervention.
Consider, for example, the way authorities spoke about the victims. Reports reveal that police officers and social workers often referred to the abused girls as “little slags” or dismissed their exploitation as “lifestyle choices” (Jay, 2014). This reflects a deep contempt for children from working class backgrounds—who were seen as complicit in their own abuse rather than as victims in need of protection. Their vulnerability was not inevitable but created—by, amongst other things, economic hardship, by overstretched and underfunded social services, and deep-rooted institutional misogyny.
I struggle to accept, as many commentators suggest, that the police failed to act because they feared accusations of racism. I suspect that it is a useful narrative that serves as a cover for institutional failures. Still, it is inconsistent with what we know about policing in Britain: that the police are institutionally racist—Black and brown communities are over-policed and under-protected. Numerous reports, including the Macpherson Report (1999) and Casey Review (2023), have documented the ways in which the criminal justice system disproportionately targets racialised groups while neglecting their protection.
It is deeply sad that the same girls who were ignored and dismissed by authorities were later transformed into symbols of national victimhood—“our girls”—only to support a racist political agenda. It goes without saying that this constitutes a further form of exploitation.
Do we really care about the survivors of sexual violence when their experiences are being used to further a political agenda? We saw how the ‘Muslim Grooming Gangs’ discourse shaped, energised and legitimised bordering practices of imprisonment, deprivation of citizenship, and potential deportation. These forms of state violence against the racial ‘Other’ were justified through the logic of nationalism and protecting “our” (white) girls. The language of ownership, “our girls,” is also revealing—it speaks to a broader societal structure in which women’s bodies are not autonomous but exist as symbols to be protected, controlled, or weaponised in service of national identity.
To truly understand and address sexual violence, we must reject the reductive binary discourses that prevent us from acknowledging and addressing the deeper economic, political, and social drivers of violence—including entrenched power hierarchies. Sexual violence is not an inevitability but a consequence of structures that concentrate power in the hands of the few, render certain populations disposable and foster conditions where coercion and control are normalised.
Casey, L. (2023). The Casey Review: An Independent Review into the Standards of Behaviour and Internal Culture of the Metropolitan Police Service.
INSEE (2020). Enquête Cadre de Vie et Sécurité.
Jay, A. (2014). Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Exploitation in Rotherham 1997-2013′. Rotherham Metropolitan Borough Council.
Macpherson, W. (1999). ‘The Stephen Lawrence Inquiry: Report of an Inquiry by Sir William Macpherson of Cluny’.
Ministère de l’Intérieur (2022). Rapport Annuel de l’Observatoire National des Violences Faites aux Femmes.
Office for National Statistics (ONS, 2023). Sexual offences prevalence and victim characteristics, England and Wales: year ending March 2022.
UK Home Office (2022). End-to-End Rape Review Report on Findings and Actions.
