Women’s rights defenders across France this week are lauding the heroism of Gisèle Pelicot, as the French parliament finished its fast-tracking of a landmark bill that changed the country’s definition of rape and sexual assault.
The Senate voted 327-0 Wednesday in favor of a bill that will add the notion of consent to the country’s laws on rape and sexual assault, joining neighbors Germany, Spain, and Belgium in doing so. The law will now specify that “any nonconsensual sexual act constitutes sexual assault” and that consent must be “informed, specific, prior, and revocable.”
The legal change comes in the aftermath of the rape trial of Dominique Pelicot and dozens of other men. Mr. Pelicot had been drugging and sexually assaulting his wife, Ms. Pelicot, for about a decade, and inviting others to join him. Amid the harrowing, monthslong trial, Ms. Pelicot became a feminist icon for the poise she showed under the pressure.
Why We Wrote This
For many years, women’s advocates in France have been frustrated by the absence of consideration of consent within the country’s rape and sexual assault laws. That’s finally changed, thanks in large part to Gisèle Pelicot.
The watershed moment this week points to the power of a single case in changing mindsets, as well as a growing intolerance for sexual violence across French society.
But women’s rights advocates are careful not to get too optimistic. They say more work needs to be done to address how sexual assault and rape are viewed and prosecuted.
“We should celebrate this new law on consent. … But simply changing a law is not what’s going to change society,” says Violaine De Filippis-Abate, a French lawyer and women’s rights activist at nonprofit Osez le Féminisme. “For that, we need to take a deep dive.”
Putting consent over the top
In many ways, French society had already laid the groundwork for its laws on rape and sexual assault to evolve, long before the Pelicot case made headlines.
“It really started with the book ‘Consent’ by Vanessa Springora,” says Fatima Benomar, co-president of women’s rights group Coudes à Coudes (shoulder to shoulder).
On the heels of the #MeToo movement, Ms. Springora published a memoir in 2020 about her relationship with French writer Gabriel Matzneff, which occurred when he was 50 years old and she was 14. The memoir opened debate about consent in France and led to the passing of new legislation that set the age of consent at 15.
Several high-profile sexual assault cases have since gained traction. In February 2024, French actress Judith Godrèche received a standing ovation at the César Awards for her speech about sexual violence in the French film industry, including abuse she had experienced as a minor.
This past May, once-revered French actor Gérard Depardieu was handed an 18-month suspended sentence after he was convicted of sexually assaulting two women on a Paris film set. In September, he faced new accusations of rape and sexual assault.
But it was the Pelicot case that moved the needle on the concept of consent between two legal adults, say French lawyers, and pushed the bill more quickly through parliament.
Many of the accused in the Pelicot trial said in their defense that they could not be guilty of rape because they thought they were simply taking part in a sex game between the couple, and had gotten Mr. Pelicot’s consent on behalf of his wife while she was “asleep.”
“Until now, there has been this idea that, ‘Oh, she’s my wife, so I have the right to her body at all times,” says Ms. De Filippis-Abate, the lawyer. “The Pelicot case has raised awareness on what constitutes rape.”
Andreea Alexandru/Invision/AP/File
More to be done?
The Pelicot case also shattered perceptions of what a rapist supposedly looks like. Mr. Pelicot was a middle-class real estate agent, and the 51 men accused of sexually assaulting Ms. Pelicot included firefighters, truck drivers, a journalist, and a DJ – “Mr. Everyman,” as they were commonly referred to in the French media.
But lawyers worry that because the Pelicot case was so out of the ordinary, the new consent law will not help them when it comes to prosecuting the typical rape or sexual assault case. Most such cases involve couples or people known to the victims, and lack hard evidence like photos or videos.
Some argue that the previous French definition – which classifies sexual assault or rape as a sexual act involving “violence, coercion, threat, or surprise” – was already comprehensive enough.
“I don’t know what this convoluted definition of consent means in real situations,” says Béatrice Zavarro, the lawyer who represented Dominique Pelicot in last year’s trial. “Will couples need to sign a piece of paper before any sexual interaction? How do we know if they took their consent back halfway through?”
Feminist groups also say the consent law puts the blame once again on the victim instead of the perpetrator, by forcing victims to prove they withheld their consent before or during sexual acts. Nor does the law resolve the larger issue that up to 94% of rape cases in France are never prosecuted, according to a 2024 report by France’s Institute of Public Policies.
“There is no French law that guarantees that all complaints must give way to investigations,” said the group in a statement. “Thus, the principle of consent could lead to a dead end in practice.”
Feminist groups and legal advisers across the spectrum agree that the real work needs to happen at a grassroots level, by teaching the French – starting with schoolchildren – what it means to have appropriate relationships with one another. That means classes in school on sexism and gender relations, and getting more men involved in the discussions.
“This new law is positive, but it’s not revolutionary,” says Ms. Benomar, the activist. “We need to continue to lift the veil off rape culture and improve the way we think and talk about it.”
