From an emic perspective: Exploring consent in forced marriage law

Research on forced marriage in Australia

Forced marriage was criminalised at a time when the phenomenon in Australia was not well understood; certainly very little research on the subject had yet been published. Although the body of knowledge has since begun to grow, there are still no accurate data on the prevalence of forced marriage in Australia, nor on the demographics of victims or perpetrators, nor the means by which forced marriage takes place.

Most Australian literature is ‘grey’ literature (not published through formal academic channels), and it considers whether forced marriage is indeed an issue of concern in Australia, what the needs of affected individuals might be, and what types of service responses would be appropriate (e.g. Good Shepherd Australia New Zealand & Anti-Slavery Australia, 2012; Jelenic & Keeley, 2013; McGuire, 2014). Other Australian literature focuses on legal aspects, exploring the significance of the forced marriage laws and the challenges in applying them (Simmons & Burn, 2013).

There is little Australian work which explores the contexts in which forced marriage takes place, and still less that investigates the ways in which forced marriage is perceived by the individuals directly involved. This is perhaps unsurprising: identifying affected individuals is a difficult task, and participation in research can escalate the risks to safety that they already face. However, to gain a contextualised and emic understanding of the phenomenon, such research is essential.

The variability of scenarios of forced marriage that have occurred in Australia is captured in the Forced and Servile Marriage Casebook (Evans, 2014), a compilation of anonymised Australian case studies intended to be used for professional development purposes. Further Australian case studies reported by professionals are also found in The Right to Refuse (McGuire, 2014), a report on a forced marriage forum that was held in Melbourne in 2013. To date, a small study by Lyneham and Richards (2014) exploring human trafficking involving marriage and partner migration is the only Australian research study to have directly engaged with individuals in forced marriage situations. ²

A critique of primary research on forced marriage

While the Australian body of literature on forced marriage is limited, there is a much larger body of work internationally. Yet even within the international literature, few publications report on primary research work. Complete research reports that include methodological detail have often remained unpublished (despite being heavily cited in the literature), and are not easily accessible online (e.g. Hester et al., 2007; Khanum, 2008; Samad & Eade, 2002; Uddin & Ahmed, 2000). Unfortunately, even when these full reports can be located, their methodology sections – with the exception of the Hester et al. (2007) study – include scant detail. Though articles based on these research projects have been published in academic journals, it is difficult for a reader to critically interpret them without a clear understanding of the methodologies used.

Many primary research reports explicitly recognise the limitations of their studies. However, in the large body of work that comprises secondary analysis and commentary, such tentativeness is often lost. Constant reiteration of the findings of the same few studies serves to eliminate the sense that our knowledge is still provisional. Instead, it reifies the findings as true and fully representative of the phenomenon of forced marriage.

To illustrate: forced marriage is usually considered in the literature in contrast to (or as a subset of) arranged marriage. However, it is unclear whether forced marriage indeed occurs most often in the context of arranged marriage, or whether this emphasis in the literature is unrepresentative, perhaps due to forced marriage being imagined as an aspect of cultural ‘otherness’.

It is possible that a person could be forced into marriage without the marriage having been arranged. For instance, a boyfriend and girlfriend might be forced to marry each other if their parents do not approve of their being in a relationship without being married. Although in such a case the individuals had chosen to be in a relationship with each other, the marriage would still be forced if consent was not given freely by both of them.

Another alternative is that a person might have consented to a marriage, but this consent was not genuine due to deception about the nature of the relationship. Australian law defines forced marriage as being due to ‘coercion, threat or deception’ (Australian Government, 2013) allowing for such a scenario to be considered a forced marriage. The eight women interviewed in the Lyneham and Richards (2014) study on human trafficking and partner migration had all consented to their marriages, but all had been deceived about the nature of the marriage or the man they were marrying. ³

At present, though, the body of primary research into forced marriage is predominantly focussed on the context of arranged marriage. The present paper, being grounded in primary research, maintains a similar focus, though it is important to bear in mind that this is not necessarily reflective of the phenomenon of forced marriage in its entirety. It is also important to note that forced marriage in Australia may prove different from forced marriage in other countries, which would limit the generalisability of international research to the Australian setting.

The following sections review what primary research studies from the UK and other comparable Western multicultural nations reveal about why marriages are forced, how marriages are forced, and what people in forced marriage situations want.

Why are marriages forced?

A variety of motivations appears to underlie forced marriage.

Marriage might be forced upon a person with the intention of strengthening kinship ties, or of ensuring that wealth is maintained within the family, as was identified by Brandon and Hafez (2008), Gangoli, Razak, and McCarry (2006) and Samad and Eade (2002).

A marriage arranged transnationally might be a means by which one party (usually the male) can obtain residency in a desired country, such as the UK. This type of marriage is likely to be consanguineous. However, Hester et al. (2007) and Samad and Eade (2002) found that immigration is rarely the main motivator for a forced marriage.

In communities where marriage involves the transfer of dowry (from the bride’s family to the groom’s) or bridewealth (from the groom’s family to the bride’s), a marriage might involve significant material transactions. The prospect of financial gain might therefore be a motivation for forcing a marriage. This was explicitly mentioned by two African women, both survivors of forced marriage, who were interviewed in the Hester et al. (2007) study. These research participants described women being used as commodities for the alleviation of poverty: ‘Your father possesses you then your husband possesses you there is nowhere to go… Women are money’ (Hester et al., 2007, p. 25). This sentiment was echoed in focus group discussions conducted with African communities as part of the same study.

Survivors of forced marriage also identified the death of a parent as a trigger for a forced marriage (Hester et al., 2007). In one case this was directly linked to poverty resulting from the death, while in four other cases women reported that upon the death of their father/male guardian, they were pressured to marry in order to make their mothers happy, or to alleviate their mothers’ responsibility and anxiety about having an unmarried daughter.

The survivors interviewed for the Hester et al. (2007) study explained that a marriage might also be forced as a more direct response to an individual’s actions, for example, being in a relationship with a partner deemed unsuitable (due, for example, to religion, ethnicity or caste). ‘Promiscuity’ (whether actual or perceived) may also render a person vulnerable, as may homosexuality. In these cases, forced marriage may be understood as an attempt to control sexuality.

Yip (2004) conducted exploratory research in the UK with a sample of British non-heterosexual Muslims. His focus was on the ways in which these participants constructed their religious and sexual identities and managed information about their sexuality within family relationships. He noted that homosexuality may increase vulnerability to forced marriage because families may wish to preserve appearances of heterosexuality, or because they may believe that marrying will ‘cure’ a person of their stigmatised sexual orientation.

Forced marriage may also result from a desire to control another person’s behaviour. Gangoli et al. (2006) identified that drinking, smoking, or certain choices of clothing may be perceived as unacceptable signs of ‘Westernisation’, especially among girls, and that forced marriage may be the response. Two respondents in this study explained that the concern with becoming ‘too Westernised’ related to the fear of loss of the community’s cultural identity. Gangoli et al. (2006, p. 13) reported that ‘a woman from India whose daughter had a love marriage found that the marriage was more acceptable to her relatives in India than in the UK’. To some extent, then, forced marriage may be understood as a product of the diasporic experience. Similarly, consultations conducted with community groups and service providers in the UK by the Working Group on Forced Marriage (Uddin & Ahmed, 2000) suggested that forced marriage is on the rise within some migrant communities in the UK, even as it is on the decline in these communities’ countries of origin.

In line with the above-cited findings, the Samad and Eade (2002) study of community perceptions of forced marriage identified sexuality and independent behaviour as the top two reasons why families would force their children into marriages. These motivations for forced marriage are also clearly documented in the Brandon and Hafez (2008) study.

Khanum (2008) identified that a forced marriage is not always driven primarily by the parents. Even if parents are applying duress to their son or daughter, they themselves might be under considerable pressure from extended family or other community members. In some cases, agreements about marriage might be made when children are extremely young. When the children reach marriageable age, parents may feel obliged to honour the promise made many years earlier, even if they are no longer in favour of it. Gangoli et al. (2006) also note ‘community pressure’ as a reason for forced marriage. One woman interviewed for their study recounted: ‘I was given a choice [about my marriage], my father did sit down with me and discuss it but I could see the pressure that he was under and I agreed’ (Gangoli et al., 2006, p. 10).

In a study conducted in New York (Sauti Yetu, 2012), young women of African immigrant backgrounds described marriage as inevitable, rather than as optional. This is consistent with a traditional ‘familist’ system, in which there is no role or identity for women outside the household (UNICEF Innocenti Research Centre, 2001). This is further corroborated by Gangoli et al. (2006) who found that, according to all the women interviewed for their study, there were only two socially acceptable reasons for a woman to remain single: pursuing higher education, or being a carer. Moreover, education and caring would often lead to a marriage being delayed, rather than not occurring at all. A study of clients of domestic violence services who were of Middle Eastern or North African background similarly identified that families could be very unhappy about a single woman living independently, and that forced marriage could sometimes be the response (Refuge, 2010).

Brandon and Hafez (2008) found that forced marriage may be carried out so that families can exploit spouses for their labour. Notably, their report does not give the example (common in the human trafficking literature) of brides coming from overseas to be exploited in domestic servitude (see, for example, the Australian case of R v. Kovacs (2008) which resulted in a successful prosecution). Rather, this report describes men being brought from overseas to work in their in-laws’ family businesses on less than minimum wages.

How are marriages forced?

The literature reveals that it is most commonly members of a person’s immediate or extended family who attempt to force a marriage. For example, the women interviewed in the Refuge (2010) study identified parents, brothers, aunts, uncles and grandparents as being the ones applying duress. Significantly, however, some of these women could also identify family members who played supportive roles.

An online survey of service providers conducted in the US identified ‘very troubling and complex dynamics at play’ in forced marriage scenarios (Tahirih Justice Center, 2011, p. 8). Respondents reported that multiple forms of coercion may be used to force a marriage, and that these may not target the victim directly. For example, a girl might be told that violence will be inflicted on her current boyfriend if she does not proceed with the marriage that has been arranged for her.

The most common tactics identified by the Tahirih Justice Center (2011) survey were emotional blackmail, isolation, threats of physical violence, threats of social ostracism, and threats to withdraw economic support. In this study, respondents pointed out that more severe tactics were employed less frequently, yet they still were not rare. These included deception (such as telling the person that an upcoming trip abroad was for a holiday, when in fact a marriage had been arranged), physical violence, stalking, death threats, immigration-related threats, kidnapping, holding the individual captive, and marrying a person in a religious ceremony without his/her participation or knowledge.

Also in the US, a survey of domestic violence and refugee resettlement professionals and of students (who were primarily of South Asian background) identified isolation, false imprisonment at home, deception and being forced to travel overseas as strategies used to force marriages (Sri & Raja, 2013).

These American findings are corroborated by Brandon and Hafez (2008) in the UK context, who describe force being applied through physical abuse, emotional blackmail (such as pretending the mother is dying) and the undermining of a person’s self-belief (for example by telling them that they are worthless and will never find love). These authors also describe isolation, imprisonment and withdrawal from school, and an intense level of surveillance upon women and girls who might be forbidden to use the phone, see friends, or leave the house. Brandon and Hafez (2008) highlight being kidnapped or forced to travel abroad as a pathway into forced marriage, emphasising that it is more difficult for people to resist once they are in their country of origin.

Further substantiation of this array of tactics employed in forcing marriages is found in the range of Australian case studies described in Evans (2014) and McGuire (2014). The scenario where an child was at risk of being sent overseas to be married was the most frequently encountered situation reported in Jelenic and Keeley’s (2013) survey of Australian service providers regarding the forced marriage of children.

What do people in forced marriage situations want?

People in forced marriage situations rarely wish to break ties with their families, let alone see family members prosecuted. Even though the impending forced marriage may have caused relations to become severely strained, in most cases the affected individuals do not wish to end their family relationships (Khanum, 2008). The ethnographic study involving young women from African immigrant communities in New York City (Sauti Yetu, 2012) found that these young women were often deterred from seeking help since the only available agency response was to separate them from their families and support networks. Such a separation would not only mean the loss of social supports, but potentially also the loss of a sense of belonging, and even a loss of one’s own identity (Reitman, 2005; Weinstock, 2005).

Young people who are supported by agencies to escape a forced marriage and establish themselves in safe accommodation may find themselves unbearably isolated. Even though they are aware of the risks of returning home, they may find these risks preferable to the loneliness they would otherwise experience. A UK policeman stated: ‘the biggest problem we have is once the girls have been placed in refuge accommodation, the pull of their family and friends has meant they have returned home to “face the music”. We have put measures in place to check in on them regularly, put markers on their addresses and telephone numbers, but once they are back home (and over 18) it is extremely difficult to ensure their safety’ (cited in Stobart, 2012, p. 22).

Gill (2004) undertook a study on domestic violence that involved in-depth interviews with 18 South Asian women in London. She found that these women often delayed seeking help, and that this was partly because they felt that saving face and preserving family honour were more important than their own personal safety. Young people who participated in focus groups for the Samad and Eade (2002) study said that if they were threatened with a forced marriage, they would prefer the matter to be settled within the family, as this would be the most honourable solution. Reluctance on the part of young people to seek external help was also reported by stakeholders surveyed in the US (Tahirih Justice Center, 2011) and Canada (Anis, Konanur, & Mattoo, 2013). In an Australian survey of service providers on the topic of child marriage (Jelenic & Keeley, 2013), agencies reported that children were reluctant to get their parents into trouble, and afraid of what would happen to their siblings if they sought help. In the UK, workers interviewed for a study on forced marriage highlighted that ‘some young people saw seeking help as a radical step, often perceived to be a direct assault on their parents’ (Kazimirski et al., 2009, p. 44).

Implications of prosecution

It is clear from the above discussion that the people most likely to be involved in forcing a marriage are parents or close relatives. Yet Gangoli et al. (2006, p. 26) found that: ‘it would be anathema to women to press criminal charges against their parents’.

A criminal conviction – even an unsuccessful prosecution – would have significant ripple effects through the family and community. Prosecution could result in outcomes that do not serve the best interest of the person forced to marry. She or he would likely be ostracised, and if parents are sent to goal then there would be severe disruption to her/his life, as well as to the lives of any younger siblings. Simply put, one cannot proceed down the path of criminal prosecution without dramatically rupturing family relationships, which is not what people in forced marriage situations generally want.

Forced marriages as distinct from arranged marriages

It is frequently contended that forced marriage must be distinguished from arranged marriage. While in both cases the bride and groom are selected for each other by family members or by other parties, the marriage is considered arranged if they both consent, and forced if one or both do not. Consent is therefore the critical feature which can distinguish an arranged marriage from a forced one.

The UK policy literature claims that the distinction is a clear one. In fact, the opening statement in the UK Government’s statutory guidance for dealing with forced marriage (HM Government, 2014, p. 1) is that ‘There is a clear distinction between a forced marriage and an arranged marriage’. The Australian Government, too, claims in its Discussion Paper on forced marriage that ‘an arranged marriage is distinct from a forced marriage’ (Australian Government Attorney-General’s Department, 2010), and on its Smartraveller website that ‘forced marriages differ from arranged marriages’ (Australian Government Department of Foreign Affairs and Trade, 2014).

Enright (2009, pp. 339–340) comments that ‘the drawing of the distinction has assumed ritual importance’. Governments, it seems, are eager to reassure migrant communities that measures implemented to combat forced marriage will not impinge upon their right to practice the tradition of arranged marriage (Anitha & Gill, 2011).

Consent and coercion: A false dichotomy?

In claiming there to be a clear distinction between arranged and forced marriage, policy-makers have accepted as unproblematic a dichotomous notion of consent and coercion. ⁴ However, academic literature has rightly criticised such a binary distinction as overly simplistic. Coercion may well be clear-cut in cases involving children under the age of 18 (since minors generally cannot legally consent to marriage), or in cases of egregious violence. But in situations of more subtle pressure, it may be difficult to know whether a marriage should be described as forced, and even more difficult to collect legally admissible evidence of coercion (Rude-Antoine, 2005). As was found in the Tahirih Justice Center (2011) study cited above, it is the more subtle forms of coercion that are the most common.

Anitha and Gill (2009) suggest that rather than maintaining a dichotomy between consent and coercion, it is more useful to conceptualise a continuum, with consent and coercion lying at opposing ends. Between these ends ‘lie degrees of sociocultural expectation, control, persuasion, pressure, threat and force’ (Anitha & Gill, 2009, p. 165). Australian scholars Simmons and Burn (2013) concur, noting that free consent may not be possible when the pressure to fulfil expected gender roles is great. Chantler, Gangoli, and Hester (2009) highlight the potential for ‘slippage’ between arranged and forced marriage, for instance in situations where the wedding arrangements are rushed, or where a person is not given full information. Although consent might have been given, its validity could well be doubted.

Anitha and Gill (2011) point out that although legal interpretations of coercion have become increasingly broad, to date no court has recognised that social expectation alone can play a strongly coercive role, even in the absence of explicit threats. Criminal legislation which is designed to prosecute a perpetrator of forced marriage cannot hope to engage with this dynamic of social expectation.

Contexts in which the notion of consent is constructed

The need to distinguish forced marriage from arranged marriage in law means that much emphasis has been put on the concept of consent. As is oft-repeated, an arranged marriage is one in which prospective spouses are selected by family members, and both spouses give their consent. Deveaux (2007) insightfully points out that this definition portrays an arranged marriage as being, in essence, the same as a love marriage, with the difference being merely in the way the partners are chosen. Deveaux argues that this framing serves to normalise arranged marriage in the context of a Western multicultural society, emphasising its acceptability. The corollary of this normalisation, however, is that little attention is given to other differences between arranged marriages and love marriages.

Yet there may be quite considerable differences. For example, a love marriage may be understood as the union of two individuals, while an arranged marriage is more likely to be seen as the union of two families (Samad & Eade, 2002). Following a love marriage, the newlywed couple are likely to establish their own household, whereas following an arranged marriage, a young bride is likely to be absorbed into the household of her new in-laws (UNICEF Innocenti Research Centre, 2001). As Deveaux (2007) argues, if consent is to be a critical element in the understanding of forced marriage, then the context in which it is constructed (that is, the context of arranged marriage) is surely just as important.

To date, however, context has rarely been explored in the forced marriage literature (Anitha & Gill, 2009). This decontextualisation has allowed forced marriage laws in the West to be created on the premise of a liberal, individualistic notion of the free self. Deveaux (2007) describes this prototype as a ‘psychologically truncated agent’ who lacks any significant attachment to others. Anitha and Gill (2009, p. 171) suggest that the understanding of consent that is applied in law has been ‘predicated on the experiences of a white man’.

Following Shariff (2012), this paper maintains that such a framing is of little relevance to the lived experiences of people directly affected by forced marriage. These are, largely, women from culturally diverse backgrounds. They come from communities in which decisions are usually made collectively, and consensus is valued more highly than individual free choice. Significantly, the players in the collective decision-making process are not all equal in their power. Age and gender are key determinants of the level of influence a person will hold. Discussing the marriage choices of young South Asian women, Wilson (2007, p. 33) argues that ‘power relations within the family and community undermine the neoliberal notion of choice, and render it meaningless in practice’.

Collett and Santelli (2011, p. 245) describe the notion of consent as ‘sociologically problematic’. These authors highlight the subtle ways in which a patriarchal society expects women – and especially girls – to conform to subordinated roles, and question whether there can ever be free consent in relationships that are characterised by unequal power relations.

In Australia, a report on Aboriginal customary law (Committee of Inquiry into Aboriginal Customary Law, 2003) noted that promised marriage requires consent to be given by both parties. However, this report also observed that unequal power relationships and social expectation could see girls being forced into promised marriages. The report states: ‘The practice of arranged marriages, in which (usually) an infant girl is promised to an adult male, is… recognised under traditional law… Generally speaking, the child is expected to understand the nature of the contract when she reaches puberty (say 12 or 13). There is then a process by which the child and her family affirm the contract and the girl goes to live with the family of the husband, but not usually with the husband at first. Sometime thereafter the girl goes to live with the husband as his wife. The girl can choose not to comply with the marriage agreement at any time prior to living with the husband. However it should be noted that the social expectations of all the families involved are that the marriage would normally proceed’ (Committee of Inquiry into Aboriginal Customary Law, 2003, p. 23).

Choices within constraints

Any choice must be made within certain constraints, and any choice will have costs associated with it. Women Living Under Muslim Laws (2013, p. 9) ask: ‘How useful is our understanding of “choice” in contexts wherein material and emotional livelihood is significantly dependent on marital status?’ In the context of Australia (a functioning welfare state), the options are unlikely to be so stark. Nonetheless, for some young people in Australia, refusing to marry will mean being forever ostracised by their family and community. Given this fact, they may decide to consent to a marriage. But is this ‘free and full’ consent? Does it depend upon how viable the alternative (i.e. ostracism) would be? Whose role is it to judge the viability of alternatives?

A case study from Norway highlights the challenges posed by these questions.

Forced marriage was criminalised in Norway in 2003, and the first convictions under this legislation were made in 2006 (Norwegian Ministry of Children and Equality, 2007). The case was known as the ‘Drammen case’, Drammen being a municipality just outside Oslo. Anthropology Professor Unni Wikan was an expert witness in this case, and she tells of how a teenage girl initially gave evidence against her relatives, but then retracted her witness statement when the case reached the Court of Appeal. There she claimed that she had not been forced into marriage as she had given her free consent (Wikan, 2008).

Wikan (2008, p. 21) recounts: ‘Hearing her expound on the freedom she thought she would be able to obtain by marrying at the age of 15 made an impression on the court: she and her husband would be able to go to cafes, to the cinema, and have a comfortable life. As a young Kurdish girl in Drammen, her options were very limited: to do the housework, look after her younger siblings, stay at home in the evenings, and have limited freedom of movement. It is not uncommon for many young girls in such a situation to see marriage as liberation, even a forced marriage’.

There is a contradiction inherent in Wikan’s statement: she describes the marriage simultaneously as a liberation and as forced. Her statement appears to involve a mid-sentence shift of perspective, from that of the girl (who sees marriage as a liberation) to that of an outsider (who sees the girl’s lack of options as precluding free consent).

In retracting her statement, the girl explained that her top priority was ‘that her family should be all right and that she did not want to be blamed for her father and brother being thrown in prison’ (Wikan, 2008, p. 17). Do the social constraints she was under constitute a form of duress? From a legal point of view, the question to be determined is whether she gave her free and full consent. As this example shows, though, in situations of heavy constraint the possibility for free and full consent is curtailed, perhaps even rendered meaningless.

Outside of a legal framework, however, policy responses need not hinge solely on questions of consent, but can take into account a broader range of factors such as gender role expectations. In Norway, this is clearly occurring, with government action plans moving from a narrow focus on forced marriage to a broader focus on ‘severe restrictions of young people’s freedom’ (Norwegian Ministry of Children, Equality and Social Inclusion, 2013).

Implications for the application of Australia’s legislation

The discussion above makes it clear that a law which is based upon a binary conception of coercion and consent is problematic for several (inter-related) reasons. Firstly, it fails to recognise that coercion and consent are not dichotomous variables (being either totally present or totally absent), but rather exist on a continuum. Secondly, a law which is based on the presumption that consent is something which is given or withheld by an individual free agent fails to acknowledge contexts of collective decision-making and the power relations inherent in them. Thirdly, such a law fails to engage with the reality that all choices are made within constraints. Finally, a law which is designed to prosecute the perpetrator(s) of a crime cannot easily be applied in situations where parents forcing their children to marry are themselves under pressure from others. In such situations, the question of who is a victim and who is a perpetrator is far from straightforward.

The question of consent is most likely to be clear in cases involving the forced marriage of minors, and/or the use of extremely violent means of coercion. These, then, are the cases that could probably be successfully prosecuted under the Australian criminal legislation.

However, these offences could anyway be prosecuted under pre-existing state and territory legislation such as statutory rape or assault. This has in fact occurred: in March 2015, a man was sentenced to 10 years in jail (with a non-parole period of seven-and-a-half years) after he pleaded guilty to the persistent rape of a child (Hall, 2015). The man had married the 12-year-old girl in a religious ceremony at the girl’s family home in New South Wales. The girl’s father was sentenced to at least six years in jail for intentionally procuring a child under 14 for unlawful sexual activity (Bibby, 2015), and the religious leader who officiated at the wedding was fined, with his religious leader visa being cancelled (Olding & Hall, 2014).

Alternative policy responses: Protection and prevention

Although Australia’s forced marriage legislation has not yet been tested in court, its existence has raised the profile of the issue of forced marriage in the community, and has highlighted the need for protective and preventative measures for people in or at risk of forced marriage.

As Simmons and Burn (2013) point out, there is room for civil law remedies that would allow legal protections for people at risk. For example, the option of being placed on the Airport Watch List to prevent removal from Australia is a protection that is currently available to children under the age of 18 (Australian Government Attorney-General’s Department, 2014), and could usefully be extended to adults at risk of forced marriage. Another option is a regime of protection orders such as the Forced Marriage Protection Orders (FMPOs) that have been implemented in the UK. People at risk can apply for an FMPO that will include conditions specific to each situation. For example, an order might require someone to reveal the whereabouts of an individual at risk of forced marriage, or to hand that person’s passport to authorities. A breach of an FMPO is a criminal offence with a maximum sentence of five years imprisonment (HM Government, 2016).

Community education and targeted support services for people threatened with, or leaving, a forced marriage are also required. The online and school-based resources (detailed above) that have recently been developed are a commendable step in this direction.

Further, there is a need for investment in primary prevention programmes that could engage with communities to shift the attitudes that lead to forced marriage. Such programmes could leverage off current work being undertaken towards the primary prevention of domestic violence (e.g. Our Watch, Australia’s National Research Organisation for Women’s Safety (ANROWS) & VicHealth, 2015; Walden & Wall, 2014).

Primary prevention requires community development methods, for example, supporting women within communities to fight for gender equality (Gill & Mitra-Kahn, 2010), perhaps using the language and tools of a human rights framework (El-Matrah, Bedar, & Lotia, 2011). Community attitudes change when there is space for dissenting views to be heard, and this is most likely to occur within communities when they feel understood, and not besieged. The contextualised, emic perspectives offered in this paper could provide a useful starting point for such deep community engagement.