It was not a good time for women in India. But that is rarely the case. The similarities between recent incidents in Bihar’s Jamui And Delhi are frightening. In both cases, a group of men attacked and sexually harassed a girl and her male friend while they were doing perfectly normal things: riding together on the back of a scooter; Celebrating a birthday in a public park. Both girls are minors.
The most striking similarity, however, is that in both cases the men managed to intimidate their victims by threatening to expose blatant wrongdoing. In Jamui, the men asked the two young people if they were classmates and whether their families were aware of their “relationship.” In Delhi, police said the accused used “legal terminology” to intimidate victims by telling them they would face trial. The attackers also posed as police officers and “threatened to inform their parents‘.
What is remarkable, however, is the threatening language used by the attackers and how eerily familiar it seems to many people, not just the survivors.
Whether the girls had relationships with their friends or not, as the attackers insinuated, doesn’t matter. It is a private matter and should not be made the subject of public speculation. What is remarkable, however, is the threatening language used by the attackers and how eerily familiar it seems to many people, not just the survivors.
Not surprisingly, the most dangerous threat the attackers wanted to make was to expose a supposed secret relationship with the girls’ families or the legal authorities. Couples in India don’t have it easy, especially if one partner belongs to a different caste or religion or is the same gender as the other. Social identities aside, public displays of affection often draw the ire of vigilante groups, religious groups, and communities who believe that such behavior “against Indian culture‘, even if their own logic of moral policing is inconsistent.
In Jamui, for example, the attackers seemed to not care about the boy’s insistence that he and the girl were classmates and that their families knew they were traveling together. In the past, there were even married couples, despite their “socially sanctioned” relationship hurt because he openly expresses his affection. As a result, most romantic relationships are forced to remain secret in the public eye, creating shame and fear of discovery (as well as simply fear of being suspected) among those involved, while at the same time legitimizing the fear-mongering and bullying of those who want to exploit their shame.
The threatening logic of moral policing
British academic Jacqueline Rose has written that sexual harassment is “the great male act, the act by which a man attempts to convince his target not only that he is the one who has the power – which is true – but also that his power and his sexuality are one and the same.” If sexual violence is about the fusion of power and sexuality, then moral surveillance adds the dimension of care or the exercise of it. Violence is disguised under the pretense of doing something good for its target. This puts the survivor in the dubious position of suffering the effects of violence while simultaneously discussing the legitimacy of his or her own suffering. Surely they cannot be truly traumatized if the person perpetrating the violence means well.
But the paternalistic logic of moral policing works exactly that way. The perpetrator is morally justified and absolved of any wrongdoing because he claims to be “protecting” women and the social order built on false notions of women’s morality.
In both Jamui and Delhi, the attackers felt justified in overpowering the teenagers by invoking their families or other legal authorities. This had the double effect of, firstly, that the teenagers (especially girls) had no freedom of choice of their own, and secondly, that only their families had the right to decide what they could and could not do.
In both Jamui and Delhi, the attackers felt justified in overpowering the teenagers by invoking their families or other legal authorities. On the one hand, this had the double effect that the teenagers (especially girls) had no freedom of choice and that only their families had the right to decide what they could and could not do. Such an attitude is, of course, familiar to all young women who, among other things, are told to seek the consent of their parents (especially their father) before renting a house, getting married, signing a contract, wearing clothes of their choice. Even legally, a woman’s name is always accompanied by the name of her father or husband on any official document.
The second effect of threatening to call the families was therefore a symbolic rapprochement of the attackers with those who were actually responsible for caring for the survivors. This gave the attackers the paternalistic claim that they were acting out of concern for the moral, and therefore sexual, worth of the survivors. This is a twisted piece of logic, but it feels particularly threatening because it’s present even outside the context of the attacks.
Anti-Romeo squads in Uttar Pradesh, for example, were founded under the pretext of curbing crimes against women, but their paternalistic attitude has instead led to well-documented efforts to curb women’s freedom of action. Likewise, curfews in women’s shelters and dormitories, which follow the same “protective logic,” have not protected women from sexual violence. In Delhi too, the official reaction after the attack was: Restrict entry to parks after sunset.
Shifting the blame onto the victim
The reason moral policing is difficult to challenge is that it drags its survivors into their own shame. As Sara Ahmed writes, “To witness one’s failure is to be ashamed; to have one’s shame witnessed is even more shameful.” The bond with shame is that it is reinforced by being seen as a disgrace by others.” Of course, the attackers in Jamui and Delhi tried to increase the shame of the survivors by threatening to call their families.
Not only does the perpetrator have the absolute right to say, “I told you so” – an insidious justification for any crime because it denies the perpetrator’s responsibility – but the survivor’s perceived moral transgressions are also considered reason enough for him to deserve the violence.
But to impose shame is to trap the survivor in a cycle of victim-blaming, as if their shame is evidence that they are already guilty and therefore deserving of more shame. This mindset shifts blame for sexual assault onto survivors while exonerating the perpetrator of moral policing who was only trying to “protect” women. Not only does the perpetrator have the absolute right to say, “I told you so” – an insidious justification for any crime because it denies the perpetrator’s responsibility – but the survivor’s perceived moral transgressions are also considered reason enough for him to deserve the violence. As seen in the Verdict on Tarun Tejpaldon’t play the role morally perfect, ideal victim is taken as evidence that the claim of the survivor himself is being questioned.
The belief that survivors of moral policing brought their plight upon themselves is widespread, even among people who may not look like — and probably aren’t even — sexual predators. as this video suggests. This is also a widespread belief among politicians, even across party lines. After the Jamui incident, Rajeev Ranjan Singh of the JD(U) was quoted as saying The Indian Express saying, “There was a time when girls didn’t leave their houses after dark.” Now they can go out anytime.’ Victim-blaming statements were made by Sheila Dikshit after the December 2012 gang rape and murder in Delhi and by Mamata Banerjee at various points over the years. And there are volumes to be written about how far-right Hindu nationalists use victim blaming to cover up their own vigilantism and sexual violence.
It is difficult to feel much optimism in the face of ongoing violence against women. All too often – as was the case after the attacks in Delhi, Jamui and elsewhere – an enormous amount of grief and anger dissolves into demands for better street lighting, effective policing and better public infrastructure. These are legitimate and necessary demands in themselves, but they are hardly coherent in their attempts to prevent victim blaming and the broader culture of sexual violence in the first place.
Viewing the question of moral policing solely through the lens of women’s “safety” is ultimately a legitimate but ultimately short-sighted view of a much larger crisis: a paternalistic view of morality.
As Journalists have notedViolence against women is so normalized that it is hardly ever a serious electoral issue in India. Even now, as women across the country have done Protest against sexual violencethe Prime Minister was photographed during a visit “Bhajan Clubbing” event. So viewing the issue of moral policing solely through the lens of women’s “safety” is ultimately a legitimate but ultimately short-sighted view of a much larger crisis: a paternalistic view of morality.
All cases of moral policing are an attempt to ask the question “what if,” a way to imagine the moral panic and social collapse that would ensue if a girl decided to celebrate her birthday in a park or share a scooter ride with a male friend. But as these two incidents of violence have shown, the real question is, “So what?” Even if a girl is considered “morally compromised,” even if her actions are actually morally suspect, so what?
References
Ahmed, S. (2014). The cultural politics of emotions. Edinburgh University Press.
