How France’s sexual harassment law took a five-week hiatus

The suspension of the old law created a "dangerous void".

On 4th May of this year, France dropped its existing sexual harassment law. Yesterday, on 12th July the French Senate voted unanimously in favour of the new legal text on harassment. No, there’s no evidence of a spike in opportunist pestering and molesting in the period between the old law being dropped and the creation of the new law. Still, as busy as the French political system was with the transition to Hollande’s Presidency and the inauguration of the new Parliament, the question remains: how, exactly, did the legal right to not be harassed manage to go on a five-week holiday in France?

The issue began in the dying days of Sarkozy’s Presidency when the sexual harassment law, enacted in 1992 but modified in 2002 to broaden its meaning, was increasingly criticised and challenged in the courts for being insufficient – the 2002 legislation defined sexual harassment as “the act of harassing others to gain sexual favours”, a problematic and confusing definition (much sexual harassment and intimidation can take place without the harasser explicitly seeking sex from the victim, for instance) that France’s constitutional council declared the existing legislation inadequate, leading to its immediate suspension. As the National Assembly, who write the law, were elected in June, the transition-period left the old law suspended but the new law yet to be written.

Feminist groups in France had been arguing that the law was nearly useless, and being inappropriately used to downgrade crimes such as rape and sexual assaults: in this sense the new 2012 law, which presents three new tiers of protection for victims, is a clear improvement. Still, this eventual benefit was marred by the immediate concern of the legal purgatory the constitutional council’s suspension of the old law created, and women’s groups took to the streets to protest this oversight.

Because for all the dubious jokes about the interim period being a brief window of opportunity for the office letch, there were serious consequences to the legal hiatus: with no recourse to legal tools to prosecute, all ongoing harassment cases were dropped, including for sexual assault.  The highly imperfect temporary solution was for victims’ lawyers to look for other grounds for prosecution.  The new minister for women’s rights, Najat Vallaud-Belkacem, has since condemned the interim period as a “dangerous void” and made facilitating the new law’s passage her one of her first ministerial priorities.

Vallaud-Belkacem’s commitment is sorely needed after France’s recent international shame on sexual politics.  2011will forever go down as the annus horribilis of gender issues (or just the year of Are You Serious, Misogynists?) in France: on top of the Strauss-Kahn trial itself, the domestic media’s mishandling of “affaire DSK” increased global scrutiny of the country’s glaring gender inequities, while the Socialist Party (PS) primaries brought an unhappy reminder of the flagrantly misogynistic treatment of PS candidate Segolene Royal in 2007.  Little wonder that, by the end of 2011, protest group La Barbe were making international headlines for donning beards and damning the entrenched sexism in French society and politics.

With a new Presidency and Parliament, 2012 looks set to capitalise on the renewed concern for gender issues ignited by the DSK events, as the appointment of Najat Vallaud-Belkacem – who has a brief to address harassment and sexism as well as reverse the Sarkozy-era encroachments on women’s benefits – seems to indicate.  Hollande’s appointment of equal numbers of male and female ministers to his cabinet, while not in itself a guarantee that the government’s legislation will advance women’s rights, certainly signalled a recognition of the need to redress the gender-gap.   Hollande and the Minister of Justice have since echoed the Women’s Rights Minister’s assertion that combatting sexism will remain a priority.  As Vallaud-Belkacem said in a recent Guardian interview: "everything will be looked at through the prism of gender equality. If we see an imbalance, we will readjust it.”

The “dangerous void” left by the repeal of the sexual harassment law was a less than ideal start to a new era but one which, thankfully, appears to be being addressed promptly by Vallaud-Belkace. With a new Women’s Rights Minister and a gender-equal cabinet, the country now has a chance to recover from the sexist-nadir that was 2011. For your political elite to be roundly condemned as misogynist might be regarded as misfortune; misplacing your sexual harassment legislation begins to look like carelessness. Here’s hoping women’s rights in France continue to improve from this point.

 

A member of activist group La Barbe onstage at a recent event. Photograph: Getty Images
Nicola Sturgeon and Tony Blair. Photo: Getty
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Nicola Sturgeon's SNP, like Tony Blair's New Labour, is heading for a crash landing

The fall of Tony Blair should be a set text for anyone wishing to know what happens next to the SNP.

If there was one thing the SNP and New Labour had in common, it was the hope. Both offered themselves as a burning torch of optimism to publics that had become tired of the same old gang running things in the same old way. Both promised a fairer, more equal society and a fearless embrace of the modern world with an appealing freshness and energy. The voters bought it: both won big, repeatedly.

The thing is, if you’re elected on a mandate to be different, you’d better be different. In many areas, for a long time, New Labour managed to be just that. The smiling PM with the huge majority pushed through radical policies, some of which even worked. Tony Blair’s methodology was so successful and so convincing that the Conservatives and the Lib Dems reshaped themselves in his likeness. Arguably, a form of New Labour won in 2010 and 2015.

But, as they say, it’s the hope that kills you. When the inevitable attritional realities of governing start to weigh, when you make, as you will, bad decisions, when the list of enemies grows long, when you’ve just had your time, you’ll fall like all the rest – only, when you’ve soared so close to the sun, you have that much further to plummet.

The fall of Blair and of Labour should be a set text for anyone wishing to know what happens next to the SNP. Sunday night’s debate between the Scottish party leaders was, I think, a foretaste of what’s coming – a public that until recently was politically and emotionally invested in the Nats is growing restive. In time, this will turn to disenchantment, then anger, then revenge at the ballot box. This is the unbreakable cycle of democratic politics.

Some of us have warned since the start that the SNP had over-promised and could only under-deliver. Its raison d’etre is independence; everything else - literally everything else - is just another brick to build the path. And so education reform cannot be either radical or unpopular, even if it needs to be so to work, because the SNP cannot afford to alienate teachers or the teaching unions or parents. Bricks, you see. Same with the NHS and doctors and health unions and patients. All the separatists have done – all they could have done, given their nature - is deploy the rhetoric of the radical while in reality body-swerving hard choices and conflict at any cost. And where they have found themselves taking flak, they’ve pointed south to Westminster: "it’s no’ our fault, it’s theirs".

But voters show signs of wearying of the predictable blame game and waking up to the time-limited strategy of show-over-substance. Middle Scotland is either ignored or maligned by the middle-class socialists who drive the nation’s political debate, but it is where elections are won. The SNP has secured the support of enough of these people to win every recent election in style, but somewhere along the way the party seems to have forgotten this was a mandate not for independence, but for good government. Ten years in to SNP rule, each new audit of public services seems to wail like a warning siren – things aren’t just not improving, they’re getting worse. The SNP is not keeping its part of the deal.

So, during Sunday night’s debate it was Nicola Sturgeon, not Ruth Davidson or Kezia Dugdale, who found herself in the audience’s cross-hairs. It will have been a strange experience for a woman more used to public adulation and a clamour for selfies. There were the teachers, who complained about the damp squib that is the Curriculum for Excellence, the SNP’s flagship education policy; who pointed out that a fifth of primary pupils are leaving without basic literacy and numeracy skills; and who warned that lowering the standard of exams in order to push up the pass rate was not a mark of success.

Then there was the nurse who said she had been forced to use a food bank (the existence of which has been used repeatedly by the SNP as a stick with which to beat the Conservatives and Westminster): ‘I can’t manage on the salary I have [which is set by the Scottish Government]. You have no idea how demoralising it is to work in the NHS. Don’t come on your announced visits, come in in the middle of any day to any ward, any A&E department and see what we’re up against.’ She delivered the evening’s killer line: ‘Do you think your perceived obsession with independence might actually cost you… in this election?’

The list of reasonable criticisms is growing and will grow further. The ideological obsession with free university tuition for Scottish students is increasingly seen as a sop to the better-off, while in England the fee-charging regime has seen the number of students coming from poorer families climb. Ms Sturgeon’s demand for a quick second independence referendum, when a worried middle Scotland was focused on what Brexit might mean for its future, was tone deaf.

The SNP has another problem (one that New Labour, for all its flaws, didn’t face): its doctrine of infallibility. The Nats’ constitution explicitly prohibits its elected members from criticising the party, its policies or each other. While total unity is useful when you’re on the climb, it starts to look bonkers when the cracks are showing. Allowing public self-criticism, far from being a sign of weakness, is a necessary vent for inner tensions and a sign to voters that a political party is something more than a cult.

That ‘cult’ word has long dogged the SNP and its supporters. The party has tried hard to normalise its electoral appeal while keeping the flame of independence burning bright, but it has been a difficult balancing act. The pro-independence mob is an ugly thing when it is unleashed (and it has suited the leadership to open the cage at times). Claire Austin, the nurse who criticised the First Minister on Sunday, has found herself at its mercy. Immediately after the debate, the Nats briefed (wrongly) that she was the wife of a Tory councilor. The SNP branch in Stirling said Tebbitishly that if she was having to use food banks "maybe she needs to tighten her belt a bit more?" Joanna Cherry, a QC, MP and the SNP’s Home Affairs spokesperson, was forced to publicly apologise for spreading "Twitter rumours" about Ms Austin.

The ravening horde has largely kept its head down since the 2014 independence referendum, but we now see it hasn’t gone away - it is not enough for the SNP’s critics to be debated, they must be destroyed. This isn’t the behaviour of a normal political party: it’s the behaviour of a cult.

I might be wrong, but I have a feeling that when the SNP does fall it will fall quite quickly. Its belief in its infallibility, its inability or unwillingness to do self-deprecation or apology, will increasingly aggravate voters. There is nothing to suggest the current public policy failings will be addressed, and plenty of signs that things will get worse. How, then, do you arrest your fall?

The SNP offered hope and promised it was different, and the voters believed. The sense of betrayal could make for a very hard landing indeed.

Chris Deerin is the New Statesman's contributing editor (Scotland). 

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