Why does a man murder his wife?

From "honour killing" to "family annihilation", the underlying causes are often the same

In the UK we are increasingly familiar with reports of so-called “honour killings.” Taslima Nasreen, the exiled Bangladeshi poet, describes honour killings as follows:

An “honour killing” is a murder carried out by a family to punish a female family member who has supposedly brought dishonour upon the family, the acts which are the cause of dishonour can be:

- refusing to enter into an arranged marriage
- being the victim of a sexual assault or rape
- seeking a divorce, even from an abusive husband
- committing adultery or fornication
- pre-marital sex
- falling in love with men outside her tribe/caste
- flirting /chatting with men on Facebook

The mere perception that a woman has behaved in a way that dishonours her family is enough to trigger an attack on her life.

Historically, honour crimes featured as part of Greek and Roman culture. In today’s society, honour and provocation remain valid defences to murder, codified in law, in many cultures including South America. In the UK, we tend to associate these crimes with South Asian, North African and Middle Eastern cultures and to some extent with Eastern Europe.

There has been much discussion in the women’s sector and among police as to how separate a category of murder it is or should be. After all, it is murder and it is not helpful to exoticise or glorify it. On the other hand, there is a need for some specialist knowledge and expertise to be able to identify high-risk situations and respond appropriately.

There had been incidents of “honour crimes” where the police were criticised for their poor response or lack of one and so they embarked in a laudable attempt to improve their understanding of such cases. They situated so-called “honour killings” as murder like any other. Drawing on expertise from women’s rights experts however, they established some additional and particular characteristics relevant to prevention, policing and methods of investigation including the existence of complicity among much of the wider family and community in the rationale, execution and cover-up of the crime.

There are two key distinctions highlighted here. First, the perpetrator is not limited to the intimate partner or ex as is commonly seen in domestic homicides but can include the wider family or community. Second, the wider family, community and culture may approve, to some extent, of the murder. The implication of this latter point is that in other domestic homicides the crime is condemned, abhorred and incomprehensible.

Indeed there is an encouraging and understandable horror and rejection of the term “honour killing” in several parts of society. At the same time, there has been an association with these crimes as foreign, barbaric, primitive and alien. This has perhaps led to over-focusing on the perpetrators’ ethnicity. Picking out key identifying factors is undoubtedly helpful to the police in identifying, preventing and investigating such crimes and should be welcomed. But it causes us to lose sight of the fact that while the manifestation of the crime may differ slightly, its motivation is the same. It also obscures the fact that our own wider society also shares in empathy with the perpetrator for such crimes as is evident in their treatment by the media and the online comment pages.

In France, although the defence of “crime passionel,” commonly used to explain violence against women where infidelity is suspected, was abolished; it is still a term commonly used in domestic homicides.  Similarly in the UK, despite the fact that in 2010 the provocation defence was abolished and replaced with “loss of control” there is still acceptance of a wife’s infidelity as material to whether a finding of murder or manslaughter will be made. Take the case of Jon Clinton who bludgeoned and stabbed his wife to death after he learned of her affair. He was originally sentenced to 26 years for murder but in January 2012 the appeal court quashed the conviction and ordered a retrial saying that his wife’s infidelity was material to his “loss of control” defence and so he should have been allowed to be tried for the reduced charge of manslaughter. (Interestingly at his retrial for manslaughter he entered a surprise plea of murder accepting that there was no excuse for his conduct).

In a judgement in July 2012, David Leeman, who had shot his wife six times after learning of her affair, was cleared of murder and convicted of manslaughter. In 2008, Wayne Forrester was convicted of murder after he hacked his ex to death when she changed her Facebook status to single after they split up. While, in his case provocation was rejected, he had argued in his statement his sense of humiliation as material saying he felt “totally devastated and humiliated by what she had done to me”.  The comments under articles describing this case included some to the effect that she should have realised how her actions would provoke and upset him. In all three of the British cases the relationship was controlling and violent. In all of the cases the relationship was breaking up whether from infidelity or not. 

Recently, commentators have noted an apparent increase in the number of cases across Europe of men killing their children, sometimes their partners and sometimes themselves.  The Americans call it “family annihilation", a term catching on over here. In that the end result is the destruction of large parts, if not the entirety, of the “family unit”, this may be accurate but the appropriacy of the term is questionable as it does not reflect the motivation. In all of these cases there are two over-riding factors.

First, there is usually some tension around the relationship as in the cases above. This may be that the marriage/partnership is breaking down, the man is controlling and jealous, the man fears or learns that she is having an affair. Maybe the woman wants a divorce or after splitting up the woman has started a new relationship.

It often coincides with some other dents to his status as “a man”. Maybe he has lost his job, his health and strength or his business are failing, he is facing bankruptcy or he is about to shamed and exposed for criminal or fraudulent activity. In each case his role as the head of the family, husband and father, the breadwinner, a strong protector and defender and a fine upstanding man are under attack. He feels himself disrespected and “dishonoured” and chooses to expunge any or all who could testify to this. To that extent one could call it an “honour crime” even though the perpetrator is the immediate partner.

In the media reporting of the cases there is often considerable focus on the alleged infidelity of the woman or suggestions that she was a bad wife, bad mother or that she had upset and provoked him, resulting in a degree of victim blaming. The reports also focus at length on the man, his career, his achievements and on what a lovely family they were and what a great Dad he is, resulting in a degree of empathy with him and his reaction to his shame and fallen status as “a man” – or his “dishonour”. This may not constitute utter approval of the offence but it is illustrative of a degree of tolerance, understanding and empathy and at odds with any sense of universal condemnation for it.

“Domestic homicide”, “murder”, “family annihilation”, “honour crimes” – there are a multiplicity of names and manifestations but the unifying factor is the underlying cause. Society has created gender roles in such a way that a man’s sense of his identity, status, power and role  – his “honour” – depends on it being propped up and reinforced by the compliance and conformity of those, particularly women, around him.

When the Pakistani women’s human rights lawyer and activist, Hina Jilani says, “The right to life of women… is conditional on their obeying social norms and traditions”, she may have been talking about South Asia but its application is universal.

Heather Harvey is research and development manager at Eaves for Women
 
A protest against honour killings in Lahore (Getty Images)
Photo: Getty
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The age of China's female self-made billionaires – and why it could soon be over

Rags to riches stories like Zhou Qunfei's are becoming less common.

Elizabeth Holmes, 33, was the darling of Silicon Valley, and the world’s youngest self-made female billionaire. Then, after a series of lawsuits, the value of her healthcare firm plummeted.

Holmes might have abdicated the billionaire crown, but another tech queen was ready to take it. Only this time, the self-made female billionaire was not a blonde American, but Zhou Qunfei, a 47-year-old from China. She dropped out of high school and began working at a watch lens factory as a teenager. In 1993, when she was in her early twenties, she founded her own company. Her big break came ten years later, when Motorola asked her to develop a glass screen for smartphones. She said yes.

Zhou is in fact more typical of the SMFB set than Holmes. Of those listed by Forbes, 37.5 per cent come from China, compared to 30 per cent from the United States. Add in the five SMFB from Hong Kong, and the Middle Kingdom dominates the list. Nipping at Zhou’s heels for top spot are Chan Laiwa, a property developer who also curates a museum, and Wa Yajun, also a property developer. Alibaba founder Jack Ma declared his “secret sauce” was hiring as many women as possible.

So should the advice to young feminists be “Go East, young woman”? Not quite, according to the academic Séagh Kehoe, who runs the Twitter account Women in China and whose research areas include gender and identity in the country.

“I haven’t seen any of these self-made female billionaires talking about feminism,” says Kehoe. Instead, a popular narrative in China is “the idea of pulling yourself up by your boot straps”. So far as female entrepreneurs embrace feminism, it’s of the corporate variety – Sheryl Sandberg’s book Lean In has been translated into Mandarin.

In fact, Kehoe believes the rise of the self-made woman is down to three historic factors – the legacy of Maoist equality, and both the disruption and the opportunity associated with the post-Mao economic reforms.

Mao brought in the 1950 Marriage Law, a radical break with China’s patriarchal traditions, which banned marriage without a woman’s consent, and gave women the right to divorce for the first time.

In Communist China, women were also encouraged to work. “That is something that was actively promoted - that women should be an important part of the labour force,” says Kehoe. “At the same time, they also had the burden of cooking and cleaning. They had to shoulder this double burden.”

After Mao’s death, his successor Deng Xiaoping began dismantling the communist economy in favour of a more market-based system. This included reducing the number of workers at state-owned enterprises. “A lot of women lost their jobs,” says Kehoe. “They were often the first to be laid off.”

For some women – such as the SMFBs – this was counterbalanced by the huge opportunities the new, liberal economy presented. “All this came together to be a driving force for women to be independent,” Kehoe says.

The one child policy, although deeply troubling to feminists in terms of the power it dictates over women’s bodies, not to mention the tendency for mothers to abort female foetuses, may have also played a role. “There is an argument out there that, for all of the harm the one child policy has done, for daughters who were the only child in the family, resources were pushed towards that child,” says Kehoe. “That could be why female entrepreneurs in China have been successful.”

Indeed, for all the dominance of the Chinese SMFBs, it could be short-lived. Mao-era equality is already under threat. Women’s political participation peaked in the 1970s, and today’s leaders are preoccupied with the looming fact of an aging population.

“There has been quite a lot of pushback towards women returning to the home,” says Kehoe. Chinese state media increasingly stresses the role of “good mothers” and social stability. The one child policy has been replaced by a two child policy, but without a comparable strengthening of maternity workplace rights.

Meanwhile, as inequality widens, and a new set of economic elites entrench their positions, rags to riches stories like Zhou Qunfei's are becoming less common. So could the Chinese SMFBs be a unique phenomenon, a generation that rode the crest of a single wave?

“Maybe,” says Kehoe. “The 1980s was the time for self-made billionaires. The odds aren’t so good now.”

Julia Rampen is the digital news editor of the New Statesman (previously editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog). She has also been deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.