Abstract
Primary prevention interventions, often in the form of media campaigns, are frequently utilized in order to tackle sexual violence. However, many in the United Kingdom have been criticized for perpetuating victim-blaming, due to their focus on the behaviour of women. One notable exception is a Liverpool City Council Campaign, which targeted young men (aged 18–24) in a bid to reduce rates of alcohol-related rape. Drawing upon an assessment involving 41 male university students, this article generates original insights into the development and utilization of male-focused rape prevention interventions. As this analysis shows, the young men’s responses to the campaign involved negotiating discourses of sex, consent, rape, sexuality and gender – especially masculinity. While participants frequently drew upon stereotypes and misconceptions, moments of contestation and disruption emerged. We argue that interventions should concentrate upon masculinity and moments of disruption and contestation (possibly through the use of peer group discussions), in order to encourage critical reflections on gender and sexual violence and to potentially engender more ethical practices.
Introduction
Preventing sexual violence against women remains a critical issue for policymakers across the globe (WHO et al., 2014). Recent statistics in England and Wales indicate that 19% of women have suffered a sexual assault since the age of 16 (ONS, 2016: 6). Indeed, 18- to 24-year-olds are particularly vulnerable to experiencing sexual offences (Felts et al., 2012), with female Higher Education (HE) students in England and Wales suffering significant levels of sexual harassment and assault (Universities UK (UUK), 2016). There is a well-established link between intoxication and sexual offences, with data indicating that in at least 50% of rapes reported to the police alcohol had been consumed by either the victim and/or perpetrator (Abbey et al., 2004). However, the inability of the criminal justice system to effectively deter and respond to sexual violence – particularly in cases involving alcohol – is well documented (Hohl and Stanko, 2015). Accordingly, there is an ongoing need and governmental commitment to develop additional methods for reducing sexual violence (HM Government, 2016), with the use of primary prevention campaigns being one such approach (Stern, 2010).
Primary prevention interventions can be distinguished from, but are often used alongside, secondary and tertiary interventions, both of which intercede post assault (WHO and London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, 2010). While internationally there has been a proliferation of sexual violence primary interventions which target their messages at men (DeGue et al., 2014), in the United Kingdom, these remain in the minority, compared to the ubiquity of campaigns focused on women (Stern, 2010). One notable exception is a Liverpool City Council Campaign, which specifically targeted young men (aged 18–24) in a bid to reduce incidents of alcohol-related rape.
In order to generate original insights into the development and utilization of male-focused interventions, this article provides a critical analysis of the Liverpool campaign, by scrutinizing the opinions of 41 young male HE students, collated through six focus groups. To the authors’ knowledge, no other UK research has critically analysed young male, HE students’ perspectives regarding a bespoke and specifically targeted intervention, which is undoubtedly due to the sheer novelty of the campaign approach. The article explores how participants’ reactions and responses to the campaign involved negotiating discourses of sex, consent, rape, sexuality and gender – especially masculinity. Male participants frequently drew on dominant gender discourses and stereotypes, and at times voiced opinions which could be considered ‘problematic’. At the same time, their views were often nuanced and paradoxical. Tensions frequently emerged and stereotypical perspectives did not remain unchallenged, with participants often contradicting themselves. In concluding, we make two key recommendations: (a) future interventions should concentrate upon masculinity and moments of contestation and disruption and (b) peer group discussions should be an integral part of an intervention, as opposed to a mechanism that simply assesses campaign impact.
From Victimization Prevention to Perpetration Prevention: Threat Campaigns and Public Health Interventions
Utilizing primary prevention interventions in order to reduce offending behaviour is not uncommon in the United Kingdom (Home Office, 2016). However, sexual violence campaigns have been criticized for ‘providing safety and awareness messages to women’ which places ‘the responsibility for being raped’ solely onto females (Stern, 2010: 52). With such interventions, the actions, motives and intentions of the perpetrator are constructed as irrelevant, and rape is placed outside of politics and socially constructed gender relations (Pease, 2014). The reality of abuse is also misrepresented and following the safety advice does not render women impervious to victimization (Powell and Henry, 2014). While not widespread in the United Kingdom, male-focused campaigns do exist, including a Home Office intervention which aimed to raise awareness among young men (aged 18–24) that sex without consent is a serious sexual offence (Temkin and Krahe, 2008), as well as the Rape Crisis Scotland campaign, ‘This is not an invitation to rape me’ (Progressive, 2009). Nonetheless, public bodies persist in the use of victimization interventions. A recent example includes a poster by Sussex Police which informed women that ‘[m]any sexual assaults could be prevented’ and advised them to ‘[s]tick together and don’t let your friend leave with a stranger or go off on their own’ (Sanghani, 2015. See further Brooks, 2011; Campbell, 2005; Gunby et al., 2017).
Whether victim or perpetrator focused, interventions may take the form of threat campaigns. These aim to produce behavioural change by engendering fear via emphasizing the detrimental consequences that may flow from engaging in the activity – such as negative health and/or legal repercussions (Cauberghe et al., 2009). They are frequently used in relation to substance abuse (Wolburg, 2006), dangerous and/or drunk driving (Rossiter and Thornton, 2004), unsafe sex and the contraction of sexually transmitted infections (Terblanche-Smit and Terblanche, 2011). They can, however, be critiqued as being overly individualistic and obscuring the wider social structures which are causative of ‘problematic’ behaviour. It has also been argued that it is never ethical to purposely cause people to feel fear or anxiety (Hastings et al., 2004). Furthermore, they can be perceived as accusatory and may produce a ‘boomerang effect’: eliciting the very behaviour they were designed to inhibit (Brehm, 1966). Carmody (2003) also argues that the prevalence of sexual violence per se demonstrates that the threat of criminal sanctions is an inadequate prevention mechanism.
In contrast, ‘public health’ interventions are premised upon a socioecological understanding of behaviour and offending, which comprises four levels: individual personal history (microsystem), family and peer influences (exosystem), community level influences (mesosystem) and societal/structural level influence (macrosystem) (Bronfenbrenner, 1977, 1979). Hence, an emphasis is placed on the broader cultural, social and structural factors. While not prevalent in the United Kingdom, perpetrator-focused public health interventions are widely used in other jurisdictions, particularly the United States. 1 Two prominent examples are social norms and bystander interventions. The former aims to promote ethical sexual practice by emphasizing that the majority of peers support and engage in consensual and respectful sexual conduct (Casey and Lindhorst, 2009). The latter encourage third party interventions before, during or after an assault (Casey and Lindhorst, 2009), an approach recently developed in the United Kingdom by the University of the West of England (UWE, n.d.). The public health model is not, however, beyond criticism. The biomedical concept of public health assumes a ‘discrete identifiable static “removable cause”’ (Fletcher, 2014: 127), which fails to encapsulate the reality of gendered violence, particularly the role of gender processes: that is, the way in which gender is socially and culturally structured and embodied (Fletcher, 2014: 132). Furthermore, while the multifarious causes of violence are emphasized, interventions which deal with the meso- and macrosystem factors, such as addressing gender inequality, are less well developed (Powell and Henry, 2014: 10).
Sexual Violence, Higher Education and Masculinities
The catalyst for the development of the Liverpool campaign arose from the findings of an earlier online survey examining experiences of alcohol-related sexual violence among students in the North West of England (Gunby et al., 2012). While the survey data have been analysed in detail elsewhere (Gunby et al., 2012), it is pertinent to note that 30.7% of 1079 participants had experienced alcohol-related non-consensual intercourse, with 60% classifying themselves as ‘very drunk’ at the time of the incident. The most frequently used tactic to procure sex was to be used sexually after the participant had been drinking alcohol and was conscious, but too intoxicated to give consent or stop the sexual activity. Despite falling within the legal definition of rape, only 21.1% of those victimized classified their experience as such. In line with other studies, the victim/perpetrator dyad was overwhelming female/male.
These findings sit within a field of research which has highlighted UK female students’ experiences of sexual harassment and violence on campus (NUS, 2010; Phipps and Smith, 2012; UUK, 2016), leading to the creation of a UUK (Universities United Kingdom) taskforce to tackle its prevalence (UUK, 2016). Survey research indicates that 68% of female students have been verbally or physically harassed on campus, 14% have suffered a serious physical or sexual assault and 54% have experienced sexual harassment on a night out (NUS, 2010; UUK, 2016). Of new students, or ‘freshers’, 17% experience sexual harassment during their first week of term and 29% report witnessing the sexual harassment of another (UUK, 2016: 19). Research has also shown the existence of a ‘lad culture’ on campus, which has been defined as ‘a group or “pack” mentality residing in activities such as sport, heavy alcohol consumption and “banter” which is sexist, misogynistic or homophobic’ (Phipps and Young, 2013: 28). This definition is not unproblematic, nor is it possible to assert a causal link between lad culture and sexual violence (Phipps, 2016; UUK, 2016). Nevertheless, ‘lad culture’ tends to normalize sexist attitudes and sexual misconduct, which ultimately impacts negatively upon female students’ experiences of university life (Phipps and Young, 2015; UUK, 2016).
While space does not permit a detailed analysis, ‘lad culture’ can be understood as a culturally specific form of masculinity which endeavours to (re)assert the dominance of men (Phipps, 2016; Phipps and Young, 2013). Masculinities are, of course, socially constructed, relational, diverse, fluid and, significantly, hierarchical (Connell, 1995; Connell and Messerschmidt, 2005). Hegemonic masculinity refers to the most powerful (although not necessarily the most common) and idealized version of masculinity and is said to encompass a ‘set of values established by men in power that functions to include and exclude and to organise society in gender unequal ways’ (Jewkes and Morrell, 2012: 40). While culturally specific, and thus imbued with race, ethnicity and class (hence, it is more appropriate to refer to hegemonic masculinities) (Connell and Messerschmidt, 2005), these values include heterosexuality, ‘strength, stoicism and aggressiveness’ (Doull et al., 2013: 330). Hence, femininity and non-idealized versions of masculinity are subordinated, and not all men are able to embody the ideals of hegemonic masculinity. As such, ‘lad culture’ can be constructed as one way in which some young men aspire to hegemonic masculinity. At the same time, as men are able to occupy multiple positions of masculinity simultaneously (Jewkes et al., 2015: 113), socially powerful young men can, and do, engage in aspects of lad culture (Phipps, 2016), bolstering its proliferation on campus and further supporting its construction as a way of achieving dominance.
It is, however, important to note that the relationship between hegemonic masculinities and gender violence is complex (Hearn, 2012; Phipps, 2016). Further, ‘not all harmful masculinities are hegemonic’ (Jewkes et al., 2015: 114), and it should not be assumed that hegemonic masculinities comprise only negative values (Connell and Messerschmidt, 2005). Recent research and interventions have endeavoured to promote the performance of ‘positive masculinity’ among young men, which focuses upon the healthy and inclusive aspects of masculine gender identity (see, e.g., Englar-Carlson and Kiselica, 2013). 2 Relatedly, research has noted the emergence of ‘equality masculinities’, which ‘legitimate an egalitarian relationship’ (Messerschmidt, 2012: 73) between men and women. Ideally, interventions should aim to produce gender equity (Jewkes et al., 2015). However, fundamentally transforming hegemonic masculinities is exceptionally challenging (Duncanson, 2015; Jewkes et al., 2015). Dominant discourses which afford certain groups of men power are difficult to disrupt and, as the analysis below will show, problematic stereotypes relating to masculinity, femininity and sexuality endure, even when challenged.
Can’t Answer? Can’t Consent – Producing and Assessing a Male-Focused Campaign
The survey findings of North West–based students’ experiences of alcohol-related sexual violence (Gunby et al., 2012) were presented to the then Liverpool CitySafe Crime Reduction Partnership. Soon after, and in consultation with two of the authors, the council developed a prevention campaign which specifically targeted male students and night-time economy users aged 18–24: the demographic most likely to perpetrate sexual offences (Abbey et al., 2004; UUK, 2016). 3 The campaign aimed to clarify that engaging in sexual activity with someone unable to consent – either through voluntary or involuntary intoxication – is rape, reduce and prevent the offences of rape and sexual assault and raise awareness of the impact of non-consensual sex against young women and girls (Nowack, 2012: 2). The intervention comprised campaign posters, placed in male toilets, and beer mats placed in the city’s universities’ Student Unions and in various youth-focused city centre bars and clubs. The campaign poster contained the strapline: ‘Can’t answer? Can’t consent – sex without consent is rape’ (Figure 1), while the tagline on the beer mats stated: ‘sex without consent is a crime’. A link to information detailing the legal position on rape (and contact information for support services) was included on the materials. While the local nature of the campaign (and subsequent assessment of its impact) may be seen as a limitation, research demonstrates that interventions need to be tailored to reflect and respond to ‘localised world views’ (Casey and Lindhorst, 2009: 100). Hence, it is important that both the campaign and assessment were geographically and demographically specific.
Campaign poster.
The impact of the Liverpool campaign was assessed via two means: six focus groups with 41 male students and an on-street survey of 321 student and non-student male participants. All participants were aged 18–24. The authors led on the focus groups while the City Council designed, organized and analysed the on-street interviews (Nowack, 2012). In what follows, we discuss the focus group data, as the discursive approach enabled the development of more nuanced insights. Due to the campaign targeting men, it made intuitive sense to use male-only focus groups, and utilize a male facilitator, to identify the impacts of the campaign. While some research suggests that men may feel more at ease discussing personal issues with a female facilitator (Yager et al., 2013), it is also accepted that men and women interact differently in group situations (and talk differently about sex) depending on the group’s gender composition (Beres, 2007; Hollander, 2004; Lawrence et al., 2009). It is also acknowledged that relatively homogeneous groups are more likely to lead to disclosure, particularly on topics of a sensitive nature, as participants feel more comfortable (Stewart and Shamdasani, 2015). Hence, it was rationalized that the presence of women – whether as participants or as facilitator – may hinder the flow of discussion, thus justifying the use of single-sex focus groups in the current research.
However, it is recognized that there are disadvantages of using exclusively male groups for research. Given the hegemonic nature of masculinity, it can be argued that males in focus group contexts ‘are more concerned with status and competition’ (Stewart and Shamdasani, 2015: 27), more likely to conform to stereotypical gendered expectations and to avoid narratives which appear to undermine their masculinity (Hollander, 2004). As such, it has been argued that men will strive to produce a normative ‘masculine self’, which eclipses their own perspectives. However, this presupposes the existence of an essentialized self which is hidden behind the public display, as opposed to recognizing that gender identity, including sexuality, is performatively constituted (Allen, 2005). Hence, rather than being deemed counterproductive, the production of masculinity within the focus group setting ‘offers a valuable first hand glimpse of male sexuality in action’ – the same sexuality that is performed in the real world (Allen, 2005: 35).
In order to engage a diverse range of male participants, focus group recruitment comprised a two-prong process, with involvement being incentivised with the offer of a £20 gift voucher. First, male participants who completed the on-street survey were asked to take part in a focus group and those who answered affirmatively were later recontacted. Despite three email attempts, none of these men ultimately volunteered. Second, a non-probability sample of students studying across two faculties within Liverpool’s two main universities was invited to take part. These students were contacted via faculty-level email distribution lists. Consequently, the focus groups comprised entirely HE students recruited via this means. Findings cannot therefore be read as representing the views of a significant part of the target audience – those of non-students. Furthermore, the majority – although not all of the students who volunteered – were white (however, as highlighted below, this was proportionate to the ethnicity make-up of the two HE institutions). The lack of diversity is acknowledged to be a significant limitation. It is not possible to ignore the relevance of ethnicity, race, class and education with regards to masculinity and male identity, especially when considering the ways these factors will influence young men’s discussions about sex (Lawrence et al., 2009; Nagel et al., 2005). Non-students and/or black and minority ethnic men may endorse different perspectives and their inclusion may have altered the content and dynamics of the group discussions.
Given these limitations, it is not possible to generalize from the findings of the study, and we do not claim to do so. At the same time, as the analysis below illustrates, the findings do resonate with the wider student and non-student literature in this area, thus suggesting that the research has a broader – although not universal – significance. It is also important to highlight that students are not a homogenous group, with the two participating universities having unique and intersecting populations. For example, in 2014/2015, 95.4% of undergraduate students in institution A were from the United Kingdom, with 1% from the European Union (EU) and 3.6% from non-EU countries; 76% were school leavers, with 96.6% of those previously attending a state school. Overall, 44% of institution A’s student population was drawn from Liverpool and surrounding regions, with 10.3% being from a black and minority ethnic (BME) background (OFFA, 2017; What Uni, 2017). In contrast, institution B had a high number of non-UK students, comprising 25.3% non-EU and 1.8% other-EU, and a higher percentage of BME students: 14.3%. In addition, 85% were school leavers and 12.3% had attended a private school (OFFA, 2017; What Uni, 2017). Thus, the views of these students may well be reflective of wider, non-student-based perspectives.
During the focus groups, participants were asked about their knowledge of the campaign and their reflections on the campaign image. Following discussions based upon unprompted recall, participants were shown the campaign images to facilitate further debate. Participants were also asked about their personal understandings of rape and consent and how the campaign could be improved. The qualitative data were fully transcribed and scrutinized, using thematic analysis: a systematic approach to the categorization and consolidation of study findings (Howarth, 2002), in conjunction with the data analysis software NVivo (version 10).
It is acknowledged that the assessment does not amount to an evaluation. This would have required substantial pre- and post-testing and involved measuring behavioural, and not just attitudinal, change. The difficulties of developing and implementing such an evaluation strategy are well documented (Powell and Henry, 2014: 11), despite recognition of the practical, financial and time factors which impede evaluative work (DeGue et al., 2014). Nevertheless, the research provides original insights into a subset of the target audiences’ responses to, and reflections on the intervention, which will aid the development of future campaigns. To this end, we examine participants’ perspectives around the campaign under the following three themes: ‘constructing consent’, ‘constructing rape and rapists’ and ‘constructing the campaign’.
Constructing Consent: Understanding the Campaign Message
‘She couldn’t consent to a cup of tea…’: Intoxication and Consent
Participants generally demonstrated a sound appreciation of the campaign’s key message, with it being noted that the image effectively conveyed that the individual was too intoxicated to consent: ‘she couldn’t consent to a cup of tea, never mind sex’ (FG3). It was further recognized that the campaign aimed to raise awareness that ‘people are taking advantage of incredibly drunk people’ (FG1) and that this amounted to rape. Numerous participants also noted that the absence of a verbal refusal should not be taken to indicate consent: ‘it’s trying to highlight the point that just because they can’t say no [it] doesn’t mean it’s not rape’ (FG4). Indeed, one respondent emphasized the importance of challenging those who might believe ‘if she hasn’t answered, [she] still might be consenting’ (FG2), particularly within the context of intoxication. This finding is interesting, as young men and women often report that they would expect a lack of consent to be verbalized, while also indicating the frequent use, and understanding of, implicit rejections and non-verbal refusals (Beres, 2010; Jozkowski et al., 2014; O’Byrne et al., 2008). The expectation of a verbal refusal could be an unanticipated consequence of the prevalence of the ‘no means no’ missive (Burkett and Hamilton, 2012). Undoubtedly, there remains a need to challenge the perspective that women’s refusals are insincere, particularly given the reported use of problematic refrains such as ‘no means yes, and yes means anal’ on US university campuses (Fleishman, 2010). However, within the neoliberal context, the ‘no means no’ message has had the unfortunate consequence of reinforcing heteronormative sexual scripts which construct women as sexual gatekeepers (Burkett and Hamilton, 2012; Gavey, 2005).
Nevertheless, a potential for misunderstanding was identified, due to the use of the phrase ‘can’t answer’, with it being contemplated that this could be interpreted to suggest that ‘as soon as they answer…they’ve given consent’ (FG5). This, however, is not the case – as one participant noted: ‘like even if she’s, you know, pissed out of her head but still saying yeah, you’d think about it and just go, oh, it’s not worth it’ (FG6). These young men, thus, appeared to appreciate that an intoxicated individual may respond, even affirmatively, but may still be incapable of consenting. Hence, there was some appreciation of the complex nature of intoxication and how it impacts upon a person’s cognitive ability and behaviour. Accordingly, a significant proportion of men demonstrated a remarkable ‘literacy’ (Beres, 2010: 5) with respect to consent and intoxication, thus contesting and disrupting other problematic views. As the research did not involve pre and post campaign testing, it is not possible to ascertain whether these more enlightened opinions were linked in some way to viewing the poster; although in the least it does appear that the image supported discerning perspectives. At the same time, it is recognized that the use of the phrase ‘can’t answer’ potentially perpetuates the (problematic) discourse that (non)consent will be, or should be, verbalized. This is perhaps an unwitting negative consequence of the attempt to represent, in an uncomplicated and noticeable manner, when an intoxicated individual is incapable of consenting.
Resignifying Rape as Consensual Sex? Blurred Lines and Guilty Consciences
The above findings suggest that the image was effective in communicating the impact of extreme intoxication and highlight the existence of enlightened perspectives. At the same time, problematic views transpired, with it being suggested that in the situation depicted ‘the lines are like blurred’ (FG2). For a minority, this was linked to the complexities of intoxication – specifically that losing the capacity to consent is dependent upon ‘how drunk you are’ (FG3). Nevertheless, a significant proportion of participants sought to destabilize the boundary between consensual sex and rape, which was considered to be ‘a bit of a grey area’ (FG4): Not at all to excuse someone that has had sex with someone without their consent – but it’s not always, I should imagine, the case where it can be so black and white that it’s rape, not rape, you know, um, which these adverts make it…sort of are making it as though it is sort of black and white…it’s a lot greyer (FG5).
Constructing the situation as a ‘fine line’ or a matter of ‘guilty conscience’ suggests that, while considered to be inappropriate and unethical, having sexual intercourse in such circumstances would not constitute a serious sexual offence; a finding with resonates with other research (see Gunby et al., 2013). It was also suggested that some men might pursue an encounter in the hope of a successful outcome: ‘like he could start kissing her, she could wake up and freak out, or she could wake up and be like happy days’ (FG3). This fails to recognize that kissing someone when they are asleep amounts to a sexual assault (Sexual Offences Act 2003, section 3) and illustrates the pervasive influence of dominant heteronormative scripts of masculinity which situate men as tenacious ‘initiators’ (Murphy, 2009: 121). It was also suggested that consent may be inferred from the surrounding context: ‘what if she said something to him earlier in the night, like, oh, come back to mine…I’ll wait for you’ (FG2) and that the relationship would be of significance: ‘it could even be his girlfriend and they’ve been going out for two years…always have sex, so I just had sex with her again last night’ (FG2). Such views fail to recognize that consent can be withdrawn at any time, should not be inferred from earlier actions and must be given anew to every sexual encounter.
Women as Sexual Gatekeepers and Cock Teasers: Perspectives on Consent
The majority of participants expressed that they were aware that ‘sex without consent was rape’. Nevertheless, it became apparent that there was considerable uncertainty regarding the meaning of consent. Indeed, the intervention’s omission to ‘tell you what constitutes consent’ (FG5) was considered a weakness, implicating that future interventions should concentrate on clarifying the legal meaning of consent, particularly in cases involving alcohol (Beres, 2010). This should not be read as overestimating the ability of the law to deter sexual offending, nor as promoting an overly individualistic approach to prevention which disregards the wider social and cultural factors. The causes of sexual offending are multifaceted, as highlighted by the public health model. Nevertheless, law and policies ‘are only as effective as peoples’ understanding and use of them’ (Borges et al., 2008: 85) and an understanding of the law is one of the prerequisites of deterrence (Robinson and Darley, 2004). 4 Research has also identified that a ‘lack of understanding of consent’ is one of the pathways to sexual violence (Warren et al., 2015: 907) and consciousness raising is a recognized (although not sufficient) element of engendering behavioural change (Quadara and Wall, 2012: 5). Thus, interventions could explore meanings of consent during group discussions. This approach is supported by research which indicates that male homosociality plays a key role in the construction of masculinity, male sexuality and sexual violence against women. As Flood notes: ‘male peer relations have a profound influence on some men’s heterosexual involvements’ (Flood, 2008: 339). Accordingly, peer group discussions have the potential to invoke shifts beyond the individual and effect wider local community and cultural change.
Participants offered various conceptualizations of consent. At the more positive end of the spectrum, and reflective of affirmative consent models, one participant suggested that consent was ‘basically an agreement between both [the] male and female to perform sexual intercourse’ (FG4). However, the majority of young men drew on more implicit models and conceptualized consent in terms of ‘tacit understanding’ (Beres, 2010: 5): ‘you get a vibe’ (FG1) and ‘just feel it in the air’ (FG2). Others drew upon notions of ‘active participation’ (Beres, 2010:8): ‘you can tell if someone’s getting on with you’ (FG2) and as something that ‘sort of just happens’ (FG3). However, participants in all focus groups frequently endorsed the discourse of women as sexual gatekeepers (Gavey, 2005). Consent was conceptualized as someone ‘agreeing to it’ (FG2) or as having ‘permission’ (FG4), suggesting that the sexual activity will be initiated predominately by one of the parties (read: male). As one participant stated: ‘it’s more like she allows you…to have sex’ (FG4). Even when constructed as a ‘mutual encounter’, the script of gatekeeper could still be seen.
Here, we see how dominant discourses, which construct idealized performances of sexuality, femininity and hegemonic masculinity, continue to endure. Indeed, the young men’s views indicate the continued influence of an active/passive male/female binary and a correlating presumptive – and negative – conception of consent. Consent is presumed to be present, unless a woman demonstrates otherwise, which fortifies a woman’s role as gatekeeper: ‘if someone keeps pushing you off…. Then obviously [consent is] not implied’ (FG2). This places an expectation upon women to turn down sexual advances and conflicts with the legal reality that consent is a subjective statement of mind which, strictly speaking, does not need to be displayed (R v. Hysa, 2007). Furthermore, as young women sometimes feel the pressure to submit to unwanted sex due to fears of disappointing men and fears of being raped (Burkett and Hamilton, 2012), there is a need for interventions to foster mutual encounters. It is recognized that the campaign could have been improved in this respect.
Disconcertingly, the ‘women as gatekeepers’ discourse developed into more problematic views when a minority of men spoke frankly about how they might persuade a woman to engage in sex. It was noted that ‘there’s ways of sort of, um, bringing someone round to wanting to have sex’ (FG3). While it was recognized by some that ‘persuasion could become coercion’ (FG3), others justified their techniques: Like I’ve bought girls back before and they’re like not too sure, and you’re like, oh, like persuade them, and then eventually they give…if they agree in the end, then I think it’s alright (FG4). But then there’s like gentle persuasion and then there’s like other things, whereas it’s like they’d be like, oh…they could be saying no, like no means no but like sometimes they’re just trying to be a cock tease, basically (FG2).
Constructing Rape and Rapists: Endorsing and Disrupting Myths and Misconceptions
Endorsing and Challenging the ‘Stranger Rape’ as ‘Real Rape’ Myth
Throughout their discussions, participants in all focus groups frequently drew on the ‘stranger rape’ as ‘real rape’ stereotype (Lonsway and Fitzgerald, 1994) and a significant proportion of participants demonstrated very little understanding of the reality of rape. Some, for example, opined that the majority of rapes were committed by strangers: ‘obviously the most common kind is probably kind of when you’re a bit drunk, down kind of dark alleys’ (FG1). Discourses relating to stranger rape could be seen to influence their interpretation of the image: ‘he could be an intruder that’s just come in while she’s asleep on the couch’ (FG2). It was also considered that ‘a man in an alley with possibly a knife’ was ‘more of a crime’ than the scenario depicted in the campaign (FG5). Relatedly, it was suggested that the relationship between the two parties could change what was occurring in the scenario: ‘that could be like the missus though, couldn’t it?…then it would be a bit different…most of the time you get consent anyway, it’s not really [rape]…’ (FG4).
These opinions did not remain unchallenged, with participants’ contemplating that they – and others – were often unduly influenced by misconceptions: Everyone has an image in their head like some man in an alley like dragging a girl and like raping them…Whereas stuff like that is just…it’s taking advantage but it’s still rape, like it’s still essentially the same (FG5).
Menacing Rapists and Unwitting Men
The pervasive influence of the ‘stranger rape’ myth could also be seen when participants discussed the campaign’s potential reach and impact. In FG3, for example, it was speculated that the image was not ‘aimed at hard core rapists…who are like going out every night and raping people’, upon whom it was thought the campaign would have little effect. Subsequently, the majority of young men in all focus groups engaged in processes of othering by promoting an essentialist construction of rapists, whom were considered to be ‘menacing’ by nature (FG3) and readily identifiable: ‘you look at someone, and you say ‘they’ve got a rapist face’ (FG3). It is perhaps not surprising that the young men engaged in this othering and demonization of rapists. The construction of sex offenders as ‘monstrous predatory others’ (Ducat et al., 2009; Quadara, 2014) is frequently reinforced by the media (O’Hara, 2012) and arguably the criminal justice system via, for example, the Sexual Offender Register (Ducat et al., 2009). In the context of developing interventions, such othering tactics can be situated as ‘identity work’ (Allen, 2005), through which young men endeavour to distance themselves from the ‘bad’ masculinity of the rapist, in order to construct, perform and protect their ‘“good” “non-rapist”’ ‘masculine self’(Masters, 2010: 38).
Nonetheless, tensions arose as a few participants acknowledged that the ‘stranger/menacing rapist’ stereotype was appropriately challenged by the campaign image. Indeed, it was noted that the image potentially pertained to the young men themselves: ‘wherever you’re from, whatever your background is, you can find yourself in that situation’ (FG2), thus recognizing the ‘everydayness’ of rape (Quadara, 2014). This is not to suggest that the vast majority of young men commit sexual offences, but rather that sexually abusive behaviour is frequently normalized (Quadara, 2014. See also Gunby et al., 2013), with some studies indicating that up to 43% of men have admitted to engaging in ‘some form of sexual coercion or aggression’ (Quadara, 2014: 44. See also Jozkowski and Peterson, 2013).
Consequently, young men’s othering of rapists frequently conflicted with their awareness of the reality of rape, which can be seen to disrupt the good non-rapist/bad rapist masculinity dichotomy. However, the young men strove to manage this tension by constructing two further categories of potential perpetrators, whom were contrasted to that of the ‘menacing rapist’. Firstly, ‘those who take advantage and [do] not really think it’s rape’ (FG5) and secondly, the unwitting (and drunken) man: ‘who’s not aware that they may become rapists if they continue to crack on’ (FG3). In drawing this distinction, the young men indicated that the perpetrator’s drunken state (or lack thereof) was relevant to their assessments of culpability: ‘it speaks more about him as a person if he’s gonna rape someone while sober’ (FG2). In contrast, it was argued that the presence of alcohol was considered to potentially lead to ‘miscommunication’: ‘I know I was drunk, I didn’t realise’ (FG2) and that it may often be the case that young men fail to appreciate what their actions entail: ‘you don’t know whether you’ve actually committed rape or not sometimes’ (FG1). These perspectives accord with findings which indicate that young adults are reluctant to apportion blame when a perpetrator was inebriated (Gunby et al., 2013. See also Gunby et al., 2012). Nonetheless, they do not accord with the law, as intoxication is irrelevant when assessing the reasonableness of a defendant’s belief in consent (R v. Grewal, 2010).
In contrast to the ‘menacing rapist’, participants suggested that the above two groups of men would be more amenable to the campaign’s message, as it may make them ‘think twice’ (FG4) and prompt them to ‘be careful’ (FG2). Accordingly, the intervention was perceived to remind viewers to not ‘take advantage of this girl’ (FG4) and caused participants to contemplate how a woman may feel in the morning: ‘[it] makes you conscious that she might…when she wakes up in the morning, be like, fuck it, where am I, what the hell, or this is rape, or something like that’ (FG4). Numerous participants spoke about the potential impact of the poster in the first person, suggesting a personal resonance: Without seeing anything like this, I wouldn’t really think about it, it would just be nothing in my head. But then you could sit there and think actually, is she too drunk, then you might be a bit like…even if she isn’t, you might just think oh well, she’s saying she isn’t but she might be (FG6). I’m not obviously going to have done it but…maybe people when they are about to commit rape…they don’t actually realise what it is they’re doing. So to make it stand out like that, to make you realise it’s wrong, it’s dangerous, think about it (FG1).
Constructing the Campaign: Challenging Masculinity and Responsibilizing Women
Demonizing Men: The Challenges and Tensions of Male-Focused Campaigns
While the male focus of the campaign is, we argue, an important improvement upon victim-centric models, it is recognized that the intervention was more aligned with threat campaigns and the accusatory tone could be perceived to be problematic. Indeed, a significant minority of participants critiqued the poster for being ‘accusing’ (FG3), ‘a bit harsh’ (FG5) and for making them feel ‘very uncomfortable’ as they would ‘never think of doing anything like that’ (FG5). It was also considered ‘patronising’ (FG3), which could impact upon its effectiveness: ‘if I’m being told something I already know, I’ll just ignore it’ (FG3). However, not all participants held such negative opinions. It was also suggested that the poster should explicitly spell out the potential punishment for rape, with one participant admitting ignorance by not knowing ‘whether I’d go to jail or whether it would just be a fine’ (FG5). It was further suggested that a more punitive image would have a deterrent effect: If this had maybe an image of him sitting in a cell with his head down or something, that would make you think more like because it appeals to your selfish side then to think, Jesus, I don’t want to end…I don’t want to deal with the consequences (FG3).
The finding that some participants felt alienated resonates with research which highlights the negative impacts of threat campaigns (Piccigallo et al., 2012; Stanley et al., 2012) and also with criticisms that many sexual violence campaigns tend to universalise ‘men as violent and women as passive recipients’ (Carmody, 2003: 201). Subsequently, it has been argued that interventions should construct and promote positive conceptualizations of masculinity (Carmody, 2003). At the same time, such ‘positive’ campaigns do not necessarily avoid perpetuating stereotypes pertaining to male and female sexuality (Murphy, 2009) and even those which aim to engender ethical sexual relationships may still be subject to opprobrium. For example, one male student at the University of Warwick, upon refusing to attend a consent workshop, produced a sign declaring: ‘this is not what a rapist looks like’ (Ali, 2015).
However, it is important to remain cognizant of the underlying social problem and reflect upon how it is represented in the intervention. While space does not enable a detailed analysis, the Liverpool campaign is informed by Bacchi’s (1999) consideration of ‘what is the problem represented to be?’ which, as O’Brien succinctly states, ‘demands greater reflection of the assumptions that underpin the representation of a problem; who is to blame, who benefits and who is harmed’ (2016: 207). Accordingly, it was important that the intervention aimed to portray the tactic of using someone sexually when they were too intoxicated to consent, along with emphasizing the gendered nature of the offence (Gunby et al., 2012). Indeed, campaigns which only construct men as ‘non-violent allies’ (Powell and Henry, 2014: 11) problematically reinforce the notion of the rapist as the ‘deviant’ other, which enables men to ‘easily distance themselves from the problem and subsequently not assume any responsibility for violence against women’ (Rich et al., 2010: 217). Hence, it is important that men recognize and reflect upon their involvement in the perpetuation of a culture in which sexual violence against women is prevalent. As Murphy notes: ‘asking too little of men, or effusively responding to their token efforts, perpetuates male privilege…it places the burden on changing rape culture squarely on the shoulders of those most directly affected by it: women’ (2009: 127). Further, positioning women as victims, while failing to construct the perpetrator as male, perpetuates the responsibilization of women (Pease, 2014). Interestingly, a significant proportion of young men argued that campaigns should focus primarily upon the victimization of the woman. It was suggested that the poster shows ‘some of the lasting effects that rape can have on women’ (FG5), as an image where the victim is in ‘some discomfort’ may effectively ‘trigger a sort of emotional response…of compassion and concern’ (FG1).
Responsibilizing Women: Victim Blaming and Female Risk Taking
The campaign’s male-as-perpetrator focus was only supported by a minority of participants, on the basis that ‘it’s the men raping the women’ (FG6). Others, however, argued that the campaign was ‘quite sexist’ (FG2) and endeavoured to shift some of the responsibility onto the woman: ‘that shouldn’t just be like, you know, if you’ve been raped it’s totally his fault. I mean, there are other…factors like consumption of alcohol’ (FG6). A few participants were also keen to highlight the likelihood of a false allegation: ‘you’re insinuating that all rapes happen because of men…it could possibly happen because they’re misled by women and then claim rape’ (FG4). This use of victim-blaming and victim-sceptical discourses resonates with other research into prevention campaigns (Rich et al., 2010) and again can be seen to be an aspect of ‘identity work’. The young men attempt to reduce male responsibility for rape and protect their ‘masculine self’ through their constructions of the culpable and risky female.
The pervasiveness of these discourses further illustrates the difficulties faced in disrupting dominant scripts of sexuality, masculinity and femininity. Indeed, such discourses were particularly prevalent when the young men discussed the campaign’s potential audience, with many contending that the intervention did and/or should aim to raise young women’s awareness of sexual assault. Some of these comments were relatively anodyne in nature. For example, it was suggested that the campaign may help young women to conceptualize their experience as a crime (FG1) and may encourage reporting (FG5 and FG4). As the project only comprised young men, it is not possible to examine whether the campaign had such, if any, impact upon women. Nevertheless, it does indicate the potential for a positive, unintended consequence, given that many females do not classify their experiences as rape (Gunby et al., 2012).
However, a significant proportion of men conceptualized the campaign as providing a warning to young women. For some participants, the poster was considered to have a dual impact: ‘I think it’s perfect, like it shows the dangers that can happen when you drink, and it also lets guys know that you shouldn’t be doing anything like that’ (FG6). Moreover, a minority of men considered the intervention was primarily, if not solely, concerned with the behaviour of young women. It was suggested that the campaign informed young women that some individuals ‘purposely go out and find someone who is in that state to try and take advantage of them’ (FG6) and subsequently, ‘women shouldn’t get themselves in that position’ (FG4). Concomitantly, women were expected to employ risk avoidance strategies: If you’re going to get drunk, make sure you’ve bought a friend with you to look after you, safety in numbers and all that malarkey. And then, just to be careful who you’re with, what you’re surrounded with as to what people you’re with, and just like make sure you’re alright and not gonna pass out in front of some other suspecting character (FG2).
That the poster was construed in this manner is disheartening, particularly as the explicit aim of the campaign was to shift the focus from the behaviour of women to that of young men. This disappointment was compounded by the use of victim blaming discourses, for example: ‘she’s in a position to be kind of contributory negligent’ (FG5). Consequently, dominant discourses surrounding femininity, female risk taking and the responsibilization of women clearly informed participants’ reading of a perpetrator-focused poster. More so, a significant proportion of participants argued that female-as-victim-focused campaigns were a logical and essential approach to rape prevention and should also encompass factors beyond intoxication, specifically attire: There’s um quite a loud argument going on that girls shouldn’t have to cover up, they can wear what they want, it’s never their fault. But I think a little bit of common sense literature and a bit of crime prevention, a bit of awareness for females. (FG2)
Conclusion: Lessons Learnt and Moving Forward
The male-focused Liverpool campaign represents a positive development in the field of sexual violence prevention in the United Kingdom, which has tended to focus on the behaviour of women. Female-centric campaigns perpetuate victim blaming attitudes and mistakenly presuppose that engaging in ‘risk averse’ conduct will prevent abuse. These processes of responsibilization problematically misconstrue the reality of assault and fundamentally construct and reinforce the message that sexual violence is a female issue. Nevertheless, it is acknowledged that the campaign was far from problem free. The intervention clearly adopts a threat-based approach and could be criticized for assuming that the knowledge of the law and the fear of a criminal sanction, per se, will be sufficient to prevent abusive behaviour. Correspondingly, critics could argue that the campaign perpetuates stereotypical gender scripts, individualizes the causes of sexual violence and does little to tackle the wider exo-, meso- and macrofactors. This, in turn, eschews the state’s responsibility for developing effective mechanisms of prevention. The adoption of a time-constrained poster campaign and the lack of an interactive element is also far from ideal. In order to maximize impact and reinforce their message, media campaigns need to be continuous and complemented with other techniques which would ideally involve participant interaction (Casey and Lyndhorst, 2009; DeGue et al., 2014).
Nevertheless, various financial and political factors impact upon the development and implementation of interventions. Campaigns are performative in nature: they send a message to the public as to how the stakeholder conceives of the underlying problem and the perceived solution. Campaigns are fundamentally politicized, as stakeholders are likely to be acutely attentive to the public relations element of an intervention. Here, we once again highlight the importance of Bacchi’s considerations regarding the power dynamics that pervade the construction of problems and policy responses (1999). Accordingly, the political (and financial) setting is likely to necessitate certain compromises, however, ‘[w]hile we have to make political compromises to achieve practical outcomes, we must continue to be reflexive about the political implications of the reforms and practices we advocate’ (Pease, 2014: 36).
This in turn leads to a consideration of the gendered nature of the intervention. While it could be argued that a campaign should be less confrontational, we need to consider the representation of the underlying social problem (Bacchi, 1999). It is important to avoid constructing sexual violence as a female issue, or as involving only a few deviant men. Our data, in conjunction with the wider literature, suggests that young men should be encouraged to engage in a critical reflection upon the relationship between gender, specifically masculinity, and sexual violence (Flood, 2008; Pease, 2014; Quadara, 2014). As we have seen, young men’s perspectives drew on various stereotypes and misconceptions relating to sex, consent and rape and participants engaged in processes of ‘identity work’ whereby they strove to protect their good masculine self from that of the menacing rapist. Indeed, the research illustrates the pervasive and enduring nature of dominant discourses pertaining to sexuality, masculinity and femininity. Nevertheless, contestations and disruptions frequently emerged and stereotypical perspectives did not go unchallenged.
Without wanting to be unduly prescriptive, as it is recognized that interventions should be appropriately contextualized, we recommend that future campaigns capitalize upon such moments of contestation and disruption. These moments provide an opportunity for the construction and promotion of more ethical views on sex and consent and for participants to reflect upon and explore scripts of masculinity/ies (and femininity/ies) and sexual violence. While the focus groups were not part of the campaign, the discussions that developed, along with the homosocial nature of masculinity and male sexuality (Flood, 2008), support the contention that peer group interactive sessions should be a vital element of any intervention, as they provided the space for discourses to emerge, be contested and ultimately transformed. If possible, universities should establish a rolling programme of workshops, commencing during freshers’ week and running throughout the academic year. Young men would work collaboratively with a peer facilitator to explore issues and perspectives regarding sex, consent and gender relations. In turn, participants would be offered the opportunity to facilitate future groups, in an attempt to engender ownership. Ideally, young men would be involved at all stages: from conception, through to implementation and assessment of the intervention.
The overall aim would be to invoke shifts at the individual, exo- and mesolevels to promote gender equity (Jewkes et al., 2015). At the same time, it is recognized that disrupting and challenging masculinity, particularly hegemonic masculinity, is an exceptionally difficult process. As the analysis has shown, dominant gender scripts are pervasive and resilient; as Butler notes, ‘those who fail to do their gender right are regularly punished’ (1988: 522). Hence, it is important to be realistic. A single intervention, however well-conceived, cannot be expected to institute fundamental long-term attitudinal, behavioural and cultural changes. Nor it is possible for one campaign to encompass the diversity of factors that exist in relation to violence against women. It is, however, important to contest discourses relating to female drunkenness and sexual violence and shift the focus from victim prevention to perpetration prevention.
Footnotes
Acknowledgements
The authors would like to thank the editor and the anonymous reviewers for their very helpful feedback and comments.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflict of interest with respect to the research, authorship and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: Financial support for the research, authorship and/or publication of this article was received from Liverpool City Council, Liverpool John Moores University and the University of Leicester.