For the past couple of years, at Zubaan, the publishing house where I work, we have been involved in a research project that focuses on sexual violence and impunity in South Asia. Along with a team of some 50 researchers, we have compiled an exhaustive set of research papers that look at histories of sexual violence, at accounts of survivors, at support systems (mostly absent), at ideas of justice and reparations, at the long-term impact of such violence on communities and, most importantly, at the question of impunity.
Sexual violence is rampant in South Asia — that particular finding comes as no surprise to any of us involved in this project. That it takes different forms — within domestic spaces, as the violence of war and conflict, as violence that targets children, as violence within political movements — all of this is also familiar. Perhaps, the area where we have learnt the most has been in our understanding of impunity.
I was reminded of this powerfully in the recent rape case involving Shiv Kumar Yadav, the driver of an Uber taxi. I could not get rid of the feeling that our anger against the taxi company was a bit misdirected. Let me try and explain: those of us from Delhi will remember that not so long ago, after a spate of road accidents, there was huge anger against what were known then as Blue Line buses, and these buses were taken off the road.
Soon they reappeared in another avatar — a different colour, same bus, same drivers. We thought we’d solved the problem, but the accidents and deaths continued. Because, of course, we had not thought that most of the men driving the buses had fraudulent licences. Many of the buses themselves were not licensed. And fraudulent licences had been issued by those in power — the traffic authority, police, company owners, etc. Indeed a whole system had enabled the drivers to feel that they could get away with things. In other words, impunity.
In the Shiv Kumar Yadav case too, we’re intent on blaming Uber. And no doubt Uber has to take a great chunk of the blame — for their lax standards, for not doing the necessary checks and, most importantly, for not training their drivers to respect their clients. This isn’t something particular to Uber though, it’s something that runs through pretty much all taxi services and autos, and buses, and more. Why pick on one?
Shiv Kumar could easily have been driving another taxi, and he might have done the same thing. Or, another driver driving another taxi might have done the same thing.
Perhaps, the question we should ask is: what is it that enables the Shiv Kumars of this world to do what they do, what is it that gives them this strong sense of impunity — a sense that no matter what they do, they’ll get away with it.
One of the things we’ve learnt in our project is that impunity is not the only protection perpetrators of sexual violence have because of faulty implementation of laws, or because of the collusion of the state. The law on sexual assault in our country has been, and remains, deeply flawed, despite significant and positive changes. Perpetrators know they can exploit this, and they know too that the legal and judicial establishment, mostly male, is in general hostile to the victim. And therefore, they feel a sense of impunity. In our protests, we tend to fault the law, but we don’t question the procedure of investigations, nor lawyers and judges, nor public prosecutors.
Another important learning for us in this project has been how deeply flawed the medical procedures are for dealing with victims of sexual assault. Clinical and indifferent procedures do not take into account the trauma the victim/survivor has gone through. Prejudiced textbooks often teach would-be doctors that in cases of rape women always lie. ‘Evidence’ collection is faulty, and where DNA testing is required, facilities are limited and hampered by bureaucratic hurdles.
But institutional indifference is one thing. What about social and familial culpability? Why would the Shiv Kumars of this world become the way they do? What role did his mother play in this? His father? His friends? The local community leaders, who knew he was crooked and violent? Had it been a woman who stepped out of line, every single one of these people would have spoken out. Why not for the man? Of such complicity is impunity made.
Indeed research on this project has shown us that there are many ways — not only legal but also social, familial, institutional, and yes, emotional and moral — by which we build up a structure within which men feel both a sense of immunity and impunity. Unless we understand the many ways in which this happens, banning a single taxi company will not help.
( Urvashi Butalia is an editor, publisher, and director of Zubaan)