Anonymity for rape suspects? I say name the men AND the women



It is neither necessary nor even, in the long term, in society's interests to whisper our assaults under the dark cloak of anonymity (picture posed by model)

There is something at the heart of British society of which we are properly proud and which you might describe quite simply as our belief in ‘fair play’.



It is hardly surprising, therefore, that when it comes to the emotional issues surrounding rape, every few years the debate about granting anonymity to the individuals allegedly involved in this awful crime grab the headlines.



But is the current situation ‘fair’? Consider: from the moment a woman accuses a man of raping her, a legal cloak of anonymity protects her from prying eyes. She retains it throughout any subsequent court proceedings and keeps it thereafter, whether or not the man is convicted.



He, by contrast, is hung out to dry: his name and pictures in the Press; friends and neighbours publicly quoted; and the trauma of it all an enduring legacy — again, crucially, whether or not he is convicted.



No wonder, then, that people continue to offer suggestions for ways to level the playing field.

This week, Maura McGowan, chairman of the Bar Council and a deputy High Court judge, has revived an old favourite. She believes that a man charged with rape should also be granted anonymity — unless and until he is convicted.



‘Then, of course, everything should be open to scrutiny,’ she says.



Seems fair enough? Many would certainly agree with her.

I’m afraid I profoundly disagree.



The first reason for my opposition is that it flies in the face of a judicial system that has stood us in good stead pretty much since Magna Carta, and which is based upon the accuser facing the accused, in open court, for all to see.



In this country, we don’t do secret trials — and it is to our credit that we don’t. Not for us the witch trials of Stalinism or McCarthyism or the shameful, shrouded secret ‘judgments’ of many totalitarian regimes.

Do not give anonymity to the defendant, but remove it from the accuser. Let them both face the public, testify and have justice seen to be done

Yet already in Britain, in the case of rape, we have secrecy shrouding one of the key players (the victim) in any trial. To add another (the accused) should appeal only to those who believe two wrongs can make a right.



The second reason I object to the idea that alleged rapists should be granted anonymity is that by making rape ‘a special case’ — special enough to blast away a linchpin of our law — you elevate rape itself to a different level of criminality.



The truth is that rape is no more and no less than a disgusting, degrading act of terror and violence, and an abuse of greater physical power. Any man who rapes is a brutal, vicious thug who should be flung behind bars. With the key carefully dropped down the nearest drain.



Therefore, in pursuit of what is fair and just, my suggestion for levelling the legal playing field is not to make rape more ‘special’, but less.



Maura McGowan, chairwoman of the Bar Council, believes people accused of sex crimes including rape should have their identities protected

In short, I’d treat it as we treat any other disgusting, degrading act of terror and violence.



So do not give anonymity to the defendant, but remove it from the accuser. Let them both face the public, testify and have justice seen to be done.



You gasp. I can hear you.



Look at the statistics, you say. Only 6 per cent of rapes end in conviction: even fewer women would come forward if they thought their identity would be revealed!



But this statistic is based on a misunderstanding. It is not true that 6 per cent of rapes end in conviction; it is 6 per cent of reported rapes.



The difference between the two is often deliberately ignored — especially by those with a feminist agenda that says women never lie.



The reason for the apparently low figure is simple. Given that these days the vast majority of reported rapes are what is known as ‘date rapes’ — where the accuser knows the accused and the issue is one of consent — most reported rape cases fall by the wayside because the police or the Crown Prosecution Service (CPS) do not believe the woman will be able to convince a jury that a rape actually happened.



In other words, it’s not that courts hear both sides and let 94 per cent of the men walk free; it’s that most reported rapes never get to court in the first place.



What I’m talking about are the cases that do get to court; cases where a woman, with the support of the CPS, feels passionately and correctly that her attacker should be punished. Surely such a woman can be expected to say openly what he did to her?



If that isn’t so, then it suggests that women are weaklings — and I simply don’t believe that to be the case.



Forty years ago, when rape victims were first granted legal anonymity, things were very different.

B y making rape ‘a special case’ — special enough to blast away a linchpin of our law — you elevate rape itself to a different level of criminality

Back then, they were often verbally roughed up by the police, then subjected to character assassination by defence barristers, who would scrutinise every detail of their sexual history.



Today, things have changed. Now, a woman will be met at a police station by trained rape counsellors, and barristers cross-examine under thunderous constraint.



Forty years ago, too, sex itself was viewed differently. People might talk of hippy summers of love, but the truth was, for all except a noisy few, we were far more buttoned-up than today.



Now we have breasts, bottoms, sex in pop videos, potty-mouthed rappers and on-line pornography thrust into our faces, day in and day out, whether we like it or not.



So yes, perhaps 40 years ago there was a reason to afford shyer, less worldly victims whatever it took to make the ordeal of seeking justice more bearable.



But now, I believe it is neither necessary nor even, in the long term, in society’s interests to whisper our assaults under the dark cloak of anonymity.

Ms McGowan says the law should be changed because rape allegations 'carry such a stigma', but Ms Sarler believes anonymity should be removed from the victim (file picture)

We have only ever allowed this when the chosen weapon of assault was a sexual organ.



Where the chosen weapon was a fist (with or without a hammer in it), a foot (with or without a hobnailed boot on the end) or a cigarette pressed into burning flesh, or where a woman was stripped naked and humiliated, or even beaten to the brink of death — in tens of thousands of such cases, the woman has always been expected to ‘relive her ordeal’ in public.



Are we, honestly, going to cling to the idea that giving evidence in those cases was a mere walk in the park compared to one where the weapon just happened instead to be a male appendage? Because if we are, we do women no favours.

