This article contains references to rape and sexual assault.
Today, the trial that has gripped millions came to a verdict: Dominique Pélicot was sentenced to 20 years in prison for the aggravated rape of Gisèle Pélicot. Pélicot, who is now recognised as one of the most prolific sex offenders in French history, systematically drugged his then-wife, Gisèle, and invited more than 50 men to rape her in their shared home over nearly a decade.
A total of 51 men stood trial alongside Dominique. Each was found guilty of at least one offence, with nearly all convicted of rape. Their sentences ranged from three to 15 years in prison, with two of the men receiving suspended jail terms – an outcome that has added to the sense of injustice among women’s rights campaigners and supporters of Gisèle.
The Front féministe international, an umbrella organisation of 85 feminist collectives spanning eight countries, hailed Dominique Pélicot’s conviction as “historic.” In their statement, they declared: “In a country where only 10% of victims of sexual violence lodge a complaint and where 94% of these complaints are dismissed, in a country where rapists enjoy virtual impunity, this verdict is historic.”
“The protests all over France showed that Gisèle is not alone. Every victim deserves to have that support.”
This case has shattered rape culture myths on an unprecedented scale. Gisèle Pélicot, in an act of defiance and courage, waived her right to anonymity to confront both her attackers and the broader societal systems that allowed such atrocities to persist. In a stirring testimony to the court in Avignon last month, she declared: “It’s time that the macho, patriarchal society that trivialises rape changes… It’s time we changed the way we look at rape.”
Her decision to speak openly about her experiences was not only a bid for personal justice, but also an effort to force society to confront its complicity in enabling such violence. As she so powerfully said: “It’s not for us to have shame; it’s for them.” This rallying cry has since resonated with victims of sexual assault, feminists, and allies around the world.
The extremity of the crimes, the cruelty, and the harrowing details have made this trial unique in its public impact. The case has exposed the perceived normalcy of the perpetrators – ordinary men in a quaint French town – and the systemic failures that allowed the abuse to continue for so long. It has become a lightning rod for those fighting to dismantle rape culture. Even in court, attempts by apologists and victim-blamers to defend Dominique and his co-defendants were drowned out by overwhelming support for Gisèle.
Public solidarity with Gisèle has been loud and unrelenting. This level of support is rare in rape cases, which often see victims disbelieved or vilified. Just a few weeks ago, Conor McGregor was found guilty by a jury of assaulting Nikita Hand in a Dublin hotel in December 2018. Despite this verdict, thousands of people rushed to his defence, calling her a liar and placing the shame on Hand – not the man who sexually assaulted her, McGregor.
We live in a society steeped in patriarchal values; a society where sexual assault and rape function as tools of oppression, reinforcing systems of power and control. Challenging these systems is threatening to many, as it requires a fundamental redistribution of power. Gisèle Pélicot's fight has shown how necessary this challenge is, but also how far we have yet to go.
For example, the sentences handed down to Dominique and the 51 other men are widely viewed as insufficient given the severity of their crimes. In France, sentencing for rape and sexual assault varies greatly. Judges may impose sentences ranging from 15 to 30 years for rape and up to seven years and €100,000 in fines for sexual assault, depending on circumstances such as the victim’s age and their relationship to the perpetrator. Given the extreme nature of Dominique’s crimes, many had hoped for a life sentence.
Pélicot’s own children have expressed disappointment at the leniency of the co-defendants’ sentences, some of which were even lower than the state prosecutor’s recommendations. Outside the courtroom in Avignon, chants of “Shame on Justice” echoed from supporters of Gisèle and feminist groups alike.
The problem of lenient sentencing and low conviction rates is not unique to France. In the UK, for instance, rape prosecutions have dropped by 70% over the past four years, despite record numbers of reported cases. In March 2022, 70,330 cases of rape were reported in England and Wales, but only 2,223 charges were brought – a prosecution rate of just over 3%. Even when convictions are secured, the average custodial sentence for sexual offences is between five and ten years. According to the charity Rape Crisis, only 1 in 100 rapes reported to police in 2021 resulted in a charge. For those who do report, the process is often retraumatising, further discouraging victims from seeking justice.
Despite these grim statistics, Gisèle’s actions have helped to shift the narrative. By rejecting the shame society imposes on survivors, she has inspired others to speak out and demand change. But this progress will only be meaningful if we all take action. Doing ‘our bit’ can take many forms: supporting survivors in your life, attending protests, writing to MPs to demand stricter sentencing, donating to organisations like Refuge or White Ribbon, or amplifying stories like Gisèle’s.
The fight for justice is far from over, but as Gisèle has shown, the first step is refusing to be silenced. The shame belongs to the perpetrators – and we must ensure that it stays there.
