Violence is commonly regarded as a segregated incident: a woman experiences physical abuse, a girl confronts harassment, a child is forced into marriage or an individual is subjected to sexual assault. Once the imminent threat recedes, it is generally presumed that the violence has ceased. But for innumerable survivors of gender-based violence, this signals the onset of another ordeal – this battle is contended not with offenders, but with institutions.
The second violence is more subtle and quieter. It might come from a judge who recommends victim to reconcile an abusive relationship; a police officer who inquires why she was out alone at late night; a close relative who forces her to stay mum over sexual abuse; a medical procedure that treats her mainly as a means of examination; a legal mechanism that deliberately prolongs for decades or a social structure that places the blame on the survivor for what occurred to her. None of these experiences are regarded as violence. But yet, they further aggravate the trauma.
Gender-Based Violence (GBV) is not merely an act of certain offenders; it is also a test for specific institutions. The way a state responds to its survivors can be gauged whether she secures justice as protection or endure shame as punishment.
When reporting becomes another ordeal
Survivor approaching the police is usually termed as the first step towards justice. In reality, it can be one of the most frightening phases.
The primary challenge is not the dearth of laws, rather it is the gap between legal provisions and institutional response.
A victim might enter into a police station carrying the weight of dread, stigma and insecurity. What she needs is safety and assurance that her complaint will be taken into serious consideration. Instead, she may encounter questions that indirectly places blame her: Why was she there? Why did she not end the relationship earlier? Why was she roaming alone? Why did she not resist?
Such questions ultimately changes a survivor from an individual seeking justice into an individual proving her innocence.
This is devastating because GBV usually takes place within relationships and families. Opting for parting ways is not always a clear cut choice. Child care, social disapproval, financial hardships, psychological manipulation and apprehension of retaliation can wholly render an exit a daunting decision.
To inquires why a survivor did not end the relationship is equivalent to misunderstanding the structural abuse.
The institution can become source of the trauma
Trauma informed approaches are based with a basic understanding: survivors should not have to perpetually recall their traumatic experiences in order to seek justice and protection.
The central issue is not that institutions should avoid from asking queries. Investigations, no doubt, need facts, evidence and procedural fairness. The issue is how those questions are posed to the survivors and whether the system knows the difference between investigating the misconduct and interrogating the complainant while taking the safety, dignity, privacy of the survivors into consideration.
When delay becomes denial
Time carries a different weight for someone seeking justice.
For institutions, a delayed hearing may be another schedule. For a survivor, it can mean prolonged period of uncertainty.
Justice delayed can have ramifications. A survivor may get financially dependent on an abusive husband. Children may tend to stay exposed to violence. Witnesses might become unavailable. Evidence might undermine. Social pressure might amplify. Families may strive for compromise. Delay can, thus, become a form of institutional pressure. When a system takes too long to act, the survivor may be compelled to relinquish the pursuit of justice.
This is specially important in societies where reconciliation is usually dubbed as the alternative solution to domestic violence. Reconciliation may, at times, be a survivor’s genuine option. But it can not be considered voluntary if it takes place under economic stress, family compromise or the absence of viable solutions. A justice system should not equate silence with settlement.
The family is often the first institution and sometimes the first barrier.
The state is not the only pillar that can perpetuate institutional harm. The family can do so too.
In numerous cases, a survivor’s initial encounter after violence is not with the police or court but with family. Families often prefer reputation over legal remedy. Sometimes, they fear social implications, economic insecurity or the marital breakdown. A daughter may be prompted to forgive. A wife may be encouraged to return to her abusive husband. A girl may be warned that being vocal about sexual violence will inflict reputational harm upon the family.
When family standing is regarded more precious than a survivor’s dignity, the survivor is compelled to carry the burden of safeguarding the image of everyone else from the ramifications of the violence she has endured.
The law cannot change society alone
There is a tendency to gauge development through legislation.
Passing a law is significant. It creates rights, establishes duties and criminalize certain forms violence. But legislation, alone, cannot change attitudes, reform institutions and alter power relations.
A law may prohibit violence while social traditions tend to justify subjugation. A law may recognize women equality while society continues to constraint women’s freedom. A law may criminalize abuse while institutions treat survivors as means of evidentiary materials.
The issue, ergo, is not merely to ask whether Pakistan has enacted legislation against GBV. The more tough question is whether the institutions which are asked with the implementation of laws are competent to turn statutory rights into meaningful protection.
The survivor should not have to become an expert in survival
One of the most troubling aspects of this justice systems is that survivors are supposed to navigate complex legal technicalities. They are expected to know where to file a complaint, which authorities to approach, what documents to submit etc.
This reverses the fundamental duty of public institutions. The core objective of institutions is to make justice accessible, not to make vulnerable people learn how to navigate complicated institutional structures.
Justice must not become another form of harm
The core question in context of GBV is not only how to ensure perpetrators are held accountable but it is also how to ensure that survivors don’t confront additional harm or stigma for securing justice.
The first violence might be undertaken by a specific offender but the second violence can come from the series of apathy and indifference such as a dismissive response, an intentional delay, a derogatory question, an invasion of privacy, a coerced settlement or an institution that reduces the survivors as objects rather than individuals. These actions are not always deliberated, but their repercussions are always genuine and profound.
A state committed to address GBV must, ergo, explore not only the violence that happens behind closed doors, but also what happens behind those doors which are generally opened for the survivors to enter the institutions responsible for their protection.