The Gisèle Pelicot Case: France’s Reckoning with Sexual Violence and Legal Dichotomies
“You are forgetting one thing, you cannot imagine the unimaginable.” Such were the words used by Pierre Darian when he was asked how family members failed to realize what had been happening for almost 10 years to his mother in law, Gisèle Pelicot. As thousands of articles and researches have described ever since the case became public last September, Ms Pelicot lived a nearly decade-long nightmare in the small southeastern French village of Mazan, unknowingly enduring appalling horrors at the hands of her husband, Dominique Pelicot. Drugged into unconsciousness and forced into mass acts of sexual violence, she became the tragic victim of not only her husband but also of dozens of men he carefully recruited online. When the horrible truth came to light, it was not merely another case of sexual violence; it marked a judicial rupture within France's legal system revealing its broader failures in addressing gender-based violence.
As anticipated, the case’s details are both harrowing and disturbing. From 2011 to 2020, Dominique Pelicot plied his unwitting wife with tranquilizing drugs and sleeping pills, crushing them into powder and adding them to her food and drink at night - a disturbing and highly premeditated process that the man perfected throughout the years, attaining the right dosages through trial and error while retaining total secrecy. He kept the tranquilizers in a shoebox in the garage so that he could plunge Gisèle into a sleep so deep and prolonged that nothing could wake her. While appearing to be a seemingly ordinary retired man, Dominique’s construction of an intricate system of abuse was facilitated by the darkest corners of the internet. He contacted over 50 men, aged between 26 and 74, on an illicit online chat forum called “without her knowledge”, where he initiated conversations inciting others to join in mass rape. As the years went by, Gisèle’s suffering manifested physically as the effects of the abuse she was subjected to deteriorated her health: weight loss, clumps of hair falling out, and constant memory blackouts became more frequent, leading to overwhelming anxiety and the belief that she was near death.
Dominique's deception and cruelty did not cease as he accompanied his wife to multiple yet inconclusive medical appointments. Charges against him only developed in November 2020, after he was initially investigated for taking photos up women’s skirts at a supermarket. After he was caught, the police searched his electronics and found a file titled “Abuses” on a USB drive that documented years of distorted violence, revealing how the man had been accumulating registrations since the start. When Gisèle first learned the shocking truth while meeting with the police- originally thinking she would only be questioned about the supermarket incident - Gisèle’s entire “world fell apart” at the age of 72. Her three children traveled to Mazan to help her clear out the house that had become a crime scene in France’s biggest rape trial. Overnight, a seemingly ordinary family and a nearly 40-year marriage were shattered. Dominique’s own daughter condemned him as “one of the worst sexual predators of the last 20 years,” while France found itself at the center of an unprecedented ordeal, forcing the nation to confront the epidemic of sexual violence and drug-facilitated rape.
The key factor behind the case’s media impact lies in the fact that, amidst all the trauma, Gisèle refused to remain silent and became an active spokesperson for her story. It was her decision to waive her anonymity and take the case to the public - a brave act due to how, in her words, "shame swap sides" from the victim to the rapist. Her selfless act, strength, and composure earned her the image of a feminist icon. Throughout the hearings, groups of women stood in the autumn chills on pavements outside Avignon's glass and concrete courthouse, encouraging Gisèle with kind words and flowers while praising her for her bravery though the hardest moments of her life. The story became a rallying cry, capturing the attention of feminist organizations, legal scholars, and the broader public. Images of Gisèle as a new feminist hero flooded the streets during protests on the International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women, cementing her status as a symbol of resistance. Meanwhile, the media defended the case’s revolutionary impact, declaring that “there will be a before Mazan and an after Mazan, just like there was a before and after #MeToo ” in the US, once again underscoring the story’s role as a catalyst for a broader societal shift and conceptual realizations in France. Specifically, the fact that Gisèle was drugged unconscious during the crimes meant she could not be unjustly accused of having somehow provoked the rapes. Yet, Dominique’s role as a perpetrator—masked as a devoted husband—along with the involvement of dozens of seemingly ordinary men, shattered the myth of the “monster” rapist. Such an overturn stemmed from the shock and concern over French men’s mentalities and awareness, given that the only commonalities among the rapists were their gender and their connection through an illicit online chat forum. The conclusion thus points to the critical recognition that there is no typical profile of men who commit sexual violence and that the perpetuation of gender inequality continues to plague modern societies.
As of France’s national reckoning, political discussions on the urgency and prevalence of sexual violence have surged, putting the nation’s inadequate legal responses under the microscope. In fact, out of the 110,000 people who face sexual violence in France, 85% are women, and historically the country has struggled to address these crimes effectively, often prioritizing procedural rigidity over survivor support. The extreme culmination of gender-based violence, femicide, has also been a pervasive issue. President Macron highlighted the violence’s gravity since his first term in 2017, but even within the last year, more than 120 women have been killed. In fact, government initiatives, such as expanding hospital reporting networks and increasing emergency aid for victims, signal some progress but remain insufficient. Ongoing public discussions have led to the launch of recent campaigns with the plan to expand the number of hospitals where female victims can report incidents from 236 to 377 by the end of 2025. Additionally, the budget for emergency assistance to help domestic violence victims leave their homes will rise from €13 million to €20 million in 2025—a measure that has already supported 33,000 people since its introduction in late 2023. Clearly, reflections on legal shortcomings and delays in the French system have been widespread and particularly intensified by the lasting impact of the Pelicot case's aftermath.
Beyond exposing France's legal shortcomings and progressive measures, the case also highlights debates on the dichotomy between punitive and rehabilitative justice systems. Countries in continental Europe tend to emphasize rehabilitation, focusing on reintegration into society, whereas the United States maintains a more punitive approach, often imposing lengthy sentences under the assumption that severe punishment serves as deterrence. The Pelicot case, however, exposed the limits of both models and provoked introspection into retributionist and rehabilitation theories. Particularly, retribution alone does not undo the damage done to victims, nor does rehabilitation suffice in cases of extreme abuse. The verdict—which saw all 51 accused men convicted—was a landmark moment, but it also revealed inconsistencies in sentencing, with some perpetrators receiving significantly lighter sentences than Dominique, the orchestrator. The trial's outcome then raises a crucial question: can justice be both retributive and rehabilitative? Or, as some argue, should certain crimes remain beyond redemption? Even in cases as brutal and horrific as this mass rape, it is essential to understand that support for harsh punishment does not necessarily contradict a belief in redemption. These concepts are not two sides of the same coin; it is possible to advocate for severe consequences while still holding space for the idea that individuals can change and seek redemption.
However, this redemption should focus on large-scale societal change rather than individualized compassion for criminals. When someone commits a crime, the prospect of prison is rarely their primary concern. Most believe they will get away with it, justify their actions as necessary for survival, or fail to see them as criminal. Others simply don’t think at all, as in crimes of passion where anger eclipses reason. However, the gravity of these crimes expands beyond fleeting rage. It is a mistake to view sexual violence as a spontaneous or isolated act, since cases like Pelicot’s reveal not only long-term patterns of abuse but also deeply ingrained, distorted beliefs shared among perpetrators. These acts are not impulsive lapses in judgment but manifestations of ample systems of violence and gender inequality.
This is why evaluating criminals in a social context is crucial—not to argue for reduced sentences, but to recognize their lack of awareness as a key indicator of a deeper, systemic issue. Focusing solely on punishment only addresses the crimes’ aftermaths, not their origins. This is why the prevention of gender-based violence should begin earlier –in education. Countless studies show that comprehensive consent education significantly reduces instances of sexual violence by dismantling harmful gender norms, following how schools have critical impact on children’s formative years. Countries with robust sexuality education frameworks equip children and adolescents with the knowledge to understand bodily autonomy, respect boundaries, and recognize coercion. Thankfully, the Council of Europe has advocated for such reforms, emphasizing that preventing abuse must be as much about proactive education as it is about legal redress.
Ultimately, this emphasis on prevention through education is essential as it addresses the root causes of sexual violence rather than merely responding to its consequences ex post facto. The Pelicot case, while a significant moment of legal reckoning, underscores the need for a broader cultural shift to eradicate gender-based violence. As Gisèle Pelicot’s name echoes in protests and policy debates, her story reminds us that the fight against sexual violence continues. By reshaping legal frameworks, reexamining punitive traditions, and investing in education, France has the chance to ensure what happened in Mazan is never repeated.
Image courtesy of W.carter via Wikimedia Commons ©2024. Some rights reserved.
The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the wider St. Andrews Foreign Affairs Review team.
