‘I’m Not Victim-Blaming,But . . .’: Young People’s Discourses in Understanding Sexual Violence Against Women

Abstract

This article explores the discourses that young people (aged 18–24) in Ireland use in understanding men’s sexual violence against women (SVAW). Drawing on a two-part vignette used in interviews with young people to elicit a corpus of data, we deploy critical discourse analysis to unpack the nuanced argumentative structures, interpretive repertoires, and subject positions used in apportioning blame for SVAW. We find that when blame is placed solely on men as perpetrators, young people draw on critical discourses that recognise the socially constructed basis of SVAW. In contrast, those who in some way blame women for their victimisation draw on disclaimers and essentialist repertoires that discursively normalise SVAW. We also identify a ‘rights discourse’ that young people use in their attributions of blame and responsibility for SVAW.

Introduction

Sexual violence against women (SVAW) has been recognised as a growing and pervasive societal problem in Ireland and worldwide (European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights, 2014). Recent surveys undertaken in higher education institutions in Ireland have found that approximately half of all women surveyed have experienced some kind of sexual harassment or violence (Burke et al., 2020; MacNeela et al., 2022). Feminist scholars have long argued that normative gender discourses delineate attitudes and beliefs around the positioning and apportioning of blame and responsibility for SVAW in a way that blames victims and absolves perpetrators of responsibility (Weiss, 2009). Indeed, surveys on the prevalence of sexual violence in Ireland among young people show that one of the key reasons for non-reporting of sexual violence is a belief by victims that they would be blamed for what happened to them (Burke et al., 2020). Much discourse analytical scholarship has been published on the legal (Ehrlich, 2001) and media discourses (Hindes and Fileborn, 2020; Lockyer and Savigny, 2020; Meyer, 2010) that surround SVAW. While some scholarship has drawn attention to how young people construct and apportion blame and responsibility for SVAW (Becker and Tinkler, 2015; Tinkler et al., 2018), a specifically nuanced critical discourse analysis of young people’s constructions of SVAW within the context of the research interview is lacking. Given that language is a social phenomenon that contributes ‘to attributions and attitudes about, and (by extension) behavioural tendencies toward, violence’ (Henley et al., 1995: 81), we deem it important to address this lacuna.

This article aims to understand the discourses that young people aged 18–24 in Ireland use in their understandings and perceptions of SVAW in relation to how they apportion blame and responsibility for SVAW. We deploy critical discourse analysis (CDA), which helps to expose how language (re)produces and conceals mechanisms of domination (Fairclough, 1992), in this case, gender inequality in the context of SVAW. The data analysed come from the Irish cohort of young people interviewed as part of a broader multicounty research project called PositivMasc (Salazar et al., 2020) that explores both how young men might be supported in addressing VAW and the discourses young people use in their understandings of masculinities in relation to violence against women (VAW) in Ireland, Israel, Spain, and Sweden.

Discourses of SVAW: victim-blaming and perpetrator (un)accountability

A significant and growing body of literature has drawn attention to the gendered power relations and dynamics that shape young people’s attitudes towards, and understandings of, sexual violence and harassment (Edwards et al., 2022). In terms of sexual interaction, dominant heteronormative sexual scripts proscribe norms for how men and women should negotiate sexual activity (Anitha et al., 2021). Such discourses also delineate a shared set of vocabularies that offenders, victims, and the wider community use to apportion blame and responsibility for SVAW (Hlavka, 2014; Weiss, 2009).

Discourses around normative femininity exemplify the way in which ‘women’s bodies remain a contested site for cultural and political values’ (Frazier, 2021: 5). Women victims who had walked home alone at night, hitchhiked, who voluntarily accompanied a stranger, or who were intoxicated have often been constructed as enacting ‘flawed femininity’ (Fanghanel and Lim, 2017; Weiss, 2009) and positioned as ‘bad girls’ who are to be blamed or even seen as deserving of victimisation (Weiss, 2009: 827). Discourses that position women as ‘whores’ or ‘temptresses’ (Fanghanel and Lim, 2017: 342) are particularly pernicious as women are constructed as inviting sexual violence. Exemplifying the fusion between ‘the paternalistic myth of women’s vulnerability’ and neoliberal discourses of ‘risk management’ (Hall, 2004: 1), women are told they must anticipate male sexual attention if they ignite or ‘ask for it’ through their style of dress or bodily comportment (Hlavka, 2014; Tinkler et al., 2018). Indeed, a recent international review (Edwards et al., 2022) of young people’s understandings about and attitudes towards VAW highlighted a tendency for young people to privilege individualistic and bio-deterministic discourses that construct men as natural sexual aggressors, a construction which in turn positions women as responsible for gatekeeping and managing the ignition of men’s sex drives.

Such ‘victim-blaming ideologies’ (Weiss, 2009: 813) implicate women as responsible for their own victimisation where the focus is on what victims might have done to ‘provoke’ the offender (Meyer, 2010; Tinkler et al., 2018; Weiss, 2009). These discourses excuse men’s SVAW and enable perpetration, as they are the same vocabularies used by offenders (Hlavka, 2014; Weiss, 2009). They can also shape legal discourses and outcomes (Ehrlich, 2001; Meyer, 2010; Weiss, 2009). In a recent court case in Ireland where a man was accused of rape, for example, the barrister representing the accused asked the jury to consider the role of the complainant’s clothes in the assault, arguing, ‘You have to look at the way she was dressed. She was wearing a thong with a lace front’ (Heylin, 2018).

Several recent studies seek to understand and explain young people’s understandings of and responses to SVAW, particularly in the context of the night-time economy (Anitha et al., 2021; Becker and Tinkler, 2015; Frazier, 2021; Gunby et al., 2020; Vaadal, 2020). Many of these highlight the growing complexity of gendered dynamics, particularly in relation to women’s agency or otherwise. Drawing on the experiences of young women, scholars have critiqued post-feminist discourses that emphasise women’s capacity for sexual freedom under the guise of fulfilment and empowerment (Anitha et al., 2021; Frazier, 2021; Gunby et al., 2020). They show how such empowerment ‘coincidentally’ (Anitha et al., 2021: 2046) aligns with men’s sexual desires and implies that women take responsibility for managing these desires.

Vaadal (2020), in particular, identifies a range of co-existing discursive positionings reflecting young women’s understandings of their agency in nightlife contexts. The ‘vulnerability discourse’ links femininity with vulnerability and attracting unwanted sexual attention and focuses on night-time spaces as sites of danger. The ‘equality discourse’ is linked to a belief that unwanted attention does not have to remain normalised but can be changed as such attention is the product of gender inequality. Finally, the ‘feminine power discourse’ encompasses a belief that women can and should exploit men’s positions as initiators of sexual interaction.

The above studies focus on women’s perceptions of broader responses to sexual violence, but how they apportion blame is only passively mentioned and not the unit for more in-depth analysis. An exception is Becker and Tinkler’s (2015) study that explores how young people attribute blame for sexual aggression in public drinking venues. Here, young people who did attribute some blame to women for their experiences of sexual harassment cited sexual provocation, levels of intoxication, revealing clothing, and women’s lack of reaction to such aggression as factors justifying blame. The authors also note that men were more likely to blame women victims than women (also, Edwards et al., 2022). Our article adds to this study by more concretely analysing the discourses not only of those who in some way blame women, but also of those who solely blame men and perpetrators. We show how interpretive repertoires are used to build lines of argumentation that are based on assumptions about the gendered nature of reality. We also identify a ‘rights discourse’ as another interpretive repertoire that young people draw on to understand SVAW.

Methodology

This article is based on semi-structured interviews undertaken with 27 young people (12 men and 15 women) in Ireland, aged between 18 and 24 who participated in face-to-face or telephone interviews (due to COVID-19 lockdown restrictions) between January and May 2020. The interviews aimed to explore their understandings of masculinities and gender in the context of understanding and challenging VAW. Recruitment was undertaken through a variety of methods, including a Facebook advertisement, an email sent to all students at the local university, snowballing, and personal contacts. Ethical approval for the study was granted by the Social Research Ethics Committee of the University, and all names in this article are pseudonyms.

The recruitment advert and information sheets given to participants referred to ‘violence against women’ and the ‘role young men can play in addressing violence against women’. We acknowledge that this self-selected sample is skewed towards those with some investment in, and social consciousness about, the topic. Participants came from a mix of urban, suburban, and rural locations. At the time of the interviews, 18 were currently enrolled in or had completed third-level education. Seven were currently enrolled in or had completed secondary education. Two young men were Irish Naval cadets.

As part of the interview, we deployed a series of vignettes (see Appendix 1) depicting hypothetical scenarios of VAW. One of these was a stereotyped two-part vignette that depicted a situation of a man grabbing a woman’s buttocks at a house party (which we have termed the ‘party vignette’) without her consent and where the woman was subsequently walking home alone but was then raped on a side street (which we have termed the ‘rape vignette’). Participants were given a hard copy of the vignettes, which were then read aloud by the interviewer. Participants were first asked ‘What do you think about that?’ We then asked about their perceptions of who might be to blame and why they thought the scenarios might have happened. We recognise that the gender of the interviewer (male for the majority of the interviews, female for one of them) and sensitivity of the topic might have led to some social desirability bias in the study, as participants may have wanted to be seen to adhere to socially acceptable subject positions and attitudes.

Young people’s responses to these vignettes form the basis of the analysis in this article. The data were analysed using CDA. Discourses shape a version of reality that ultimately inform choices about how to negotiate that reality (Harris et al., 2012; Lockyer and Savigny, 2020). Given the relationship between the threat and the actual perpetration of SVAW in maintaining men’s power (Beneke, 1982), CDA can help to expose the ways in which certain discourses legitimate and perpetuate a culture where women are scrutinised for their role in sexual victimisation and where male perpetrators are, in turn, implicitly absolved of some accountability and responsibility.

We created a file of participants’ responses to the two-part vignette. All extracts are verbatim. In line with the method of CDA, we re-read the excerpts to become familiar with the data and engaged in detailed line-by-line reading to identify patterns (Edley, 2001). We focused on the interpretive repertoires (Edley, 2001) used by young people in making sense of the vignettes and how they attributed blame and responsibility to women and male perpetrators. An interpretive repertoire ‘is a recognizable routine of arguments, descriptions, and evaluations distinguished by familiar clichés, common places, tropes and characterizations of actors and situations’ (Edley and Wetherell, 2001: 443). As such, they refer to culturally available discourses that provide a community with a shared basis of social understanding (Edley, 2001). Given how dominant discourses around SVAW also make assumptions and claims around responsibility for SVAW, we were also interested in how women and perpetrators are positioned (Edley, 2001) by young people, namely, how agency relating to responsibility and blame for SVAW is apportioned to women and perpetrators (Edley, 2001; Hlavka, 2014; Weiss, 2009).

The continuum of blame

While all participants recognised the scenarios as unacceptable, analysing the data, we noticed that the apportioning of blame and responsibility for the scenarios could be placed on a continuum. Curious about the possible discursive differences between the level of blame for SVAW attributed to victims and perpetrators, we created heuristic categories to capture this continuum. We identified categories of participants who ‘blamed men solely’, blamed ‘men majorly / women partially’, and blamed ‘women majorly / men partially’; some other participants argued that both women and perpetrators in the scenarios were ‘equally to blame’. Others expressed ‘ambivalent blame’, seeming to agonise over their thoughts.

For the purposes of this article, we collapse these gradations of blame into two key categories. Analysing the corpus of data, we noticed that those who in our interpretation ‘blamed men solely’ for SVAW could be differentiated from the other categories as their apportioning of blame to men and perpetrators was unequivocal and absolute. We therefore use the phrase ‘blamed men’ to describe this first category. The second grouping, which we term ‘blamed women’, refers to all participants in the other categories (i.e. who blamed women is some way, even partially), including those who expressed ‘ambivalent blame’ as they considered imputing blame to women using the same discourses as others who in some way blamed women.

Our relatively small sample size limits representativeness, although this is not generally a concern in CDA. We do note that 5 men and 11 women articulated views that blamed men and perpetrators solely, while 7 men and 4 women drew on views that in some way blamed women. This slight ‘gender gap’ is consistent with studies on young people’s attitudes and beliefs around VAW and gender norms and could relate to how men may sympathise with masculine norms to initiate sexual contact (Becker and Tinkler, 2015). We also note that one man and two women who blamed ‘women majorly / men partially’ did so in a way that was also both hostile and shaming (e.g. Fiona’s and Michael’s narratives below).

Men and perpetrators solely to blame

Young people who blamed men employed a particular argumentative structure. They argued that SVAW in nightlife venues is particularly ‘normalised’ but argued that women should not have to adjust their behaviours to avoid sexual harassment and violence and should also not be blamed for not making such adjustments if they are subsequently victimised. The line of argument can be summarised as ‘it is normalised, but unacceptable and needs to change’:

. . . these stories come up every single week and you always have these people, ‘oh she’s asking for it’, you know, that whole thing. But like the reality of it is you should be able to wear whatever you want whenever you want. (Laura, female, 23, italics our emphasis)

Laura’s argument exemplifies the views of these participants that although SVAW is a problem, an alternative reality is possible (Fairclough, 1992) where women can wear what they want without fearing victimisation.

Young people who blamed men and perpetrators also did not attribute normalisation of SVAW to essentialist ‘ideologies about male sexuality’ (Weiss, 2009: 812), where SVAW is constructed as normal due to men’s supposed uncontrollable desires (Hlavka, 2014; Tinkler et al., 2018). Rather, these participants believed that SVAW is what we call socially normalised, where acceptance and normalisation of SVAW derive from socially constructed beliefs and norms that underpin a broader supportive context for perpetration. In this way, the findings echo the ‘equality discourse’ found by Vaadal (2020):

Like this is like one of the most common things ever . . . It’s kind of like so normalised in outgoing society. . . I mean, you can really dress whatever way you want. If she wore long skirts, you know, and like very thick clothing. . . the same guys would be calling her a prude and telling her like show some skin and stuff. But then when she does she’s asking for it. (Philip, male, 23)

This group of participants thus rejected the dominant idea that the problem of SVAW is a ‘reality’ that cannot be changed due to men’s unchangeable biological impulses (e.g. Hlavka, 2014; Tinkler et al., 2018).

Critical discourses

Participants who blamed men and perpetrators apportioned little or no conditions of blame and responsibility to women as victims. They categorically asserted that no matter how a woman is dressed, nobody has the right to touch her without her consent:

Whether she as completely naked or covered head to toe, it’s never ok to touch someone without their consent. (Sorcha, female, 24)

As Philip’s narrative previously indicated, these participants also recognised how, too often, the locus of responsibility for sexual violence is put on women through the commonly invoked interpretive repertoire that victims ‘asked for it’ (Frazier, 2021; Heylin, 2018). Indeed, these participants drew upon discourses that emphasised the socially constructed basis of perpetration:

. . . that’s just kind of a, I guess, like macho kind of ownership thing. Just because she’s dressed like that they think they’re allowed to do that. Like she’s almost asking for it type of thing. (Cathal, male, 24, italics our emphasis)

These participants also categorically rejected the double standard where blame for sexual violence is ascribed to victims for their level of intoxication, and perpetrators are simultaneously excused (Anitha et al., 2021). They instead argued that it is circulation of entitlement discourses and indifference to women’s perspectives that are the problem:

Alcohol isn’t an excuse it just amplifies these thoughts and takes away the ability they might have had to consider it wrong . . . (Sorcha, female, 24)

Furthermore, while victim-blaming discourses can imply women invite sexual assault through a mix of flirting and alcohol (Becker and Tinkler, 2015), these participants pointed out that alcohol diminishes a woman’s capacity to consent, not the opposite:

. . . the girl isn’t even aware of what’s happening, so she couldn’t be even a slight part to blame. (Philip, male, 23)

In sum, these participants used what we refer to as ‘critical discourses’. Through notions of ‘consent’, ‘excuses’, ‘ownership’, and the ‘mindset’ behind perpetration, they recognised the power dynamics (re)produced by certain discourses around SVAW and drew upon the role of changeable social norms that underpin perpetration of SVAW. In doing so, they positioned perpetrators as being amenable to change and thus to blame for SVAW.

Women and victims to blame

It is unacceptable, but normalised – the use of disclaimers

Echoing previous studies (Anitha et al., 2021; Tinkler et al., 2018), young people who blamed women for ‘inviting’ sexual harassment in our study also simultaneously expressed abhorrence at SVAW. How these two positions are reconciled is best exemplified by Fiona’s (female, 24) response to the party vignette:

(Short pause) Well, it’s not okay that he grabbed her, you know, straight up. Like he wasn’t given consent to touch her. That’s not okay. But, I mean, it’s more nuanced than that, like . . . And like, so she’s totally within her boundaries to wear tight skirts and tight tank tops, and she’s flirty, and there’s probably drink and stuff . . . Totally okay. But then she also knows that with that and with the flirtiness she’s going to attract attention. . . I’m not trying to say it’s her fault. But she has to take a certain amount of responsibility for going out with a bunch of horny . . . But like that, it still isn’t okay. He still shouldn’t do that . . . (Italics our emphasis)

Later on in the interview, Fiona demonstrated a cognisance of the critical discourses available to interpret these situations, but argued that these discourses are being privileged over those of personal responsibility:

. . . if a woman . . . is just sitting there and saying, oh, toxic masculinity and patriarchy and da, da, da, da, da, and isn’t taking any responsibility (italics her emphasis) for the role that she has played in any of those situations – I’m not victim-blaming, but it’s like taking personal accountability for yourself. (Italics our emphasis)

Participants such as Fiona drew on an argumentative structure that employs an argument for one position (support for women’s autonomy), followed immediately by a qualifier, mainly in the form of the ‘but’ disclaimer. Fiona here makes particular use of the ‘apparent concession’ disclaimer (Van Dijk, 1997: 170), invoking a progressive attitude towards women in terms of their choices, stereotypically followed by a concession that these choices should not be followed through if a woman wants to avoid victimisation. For Van Dijk (1997), disclaimers are usually symptom of underlying prejudices and can be understood as strategies of positive self-presentation. Indeed, Fiona’s use of disclaimers can be interpreted as paying lip service to a cultural context where there is a growing respect for women’s autonomy (Van Dijk, 1997) and where feminist campaigning has made the open embrace of victim-blaming unacceptable (Meyer, 2010). It is also possible that her initial support for victims and their choices may be attempts to distance herself from a discrediting identity in the interview context. The lip service paid to respecting women’s autonomy, however, does not take away the social effects of the disclaimers which follow them, as they open up and provide a space for victim-blaming which others might quickly also take up.

Some of these disclaimer narratives read as agonising ideological dilemmas (Edley, 2001), such as Darragh’s (male, 19), who below is responding to how the scenario depicted in the rape vignette could have been prevented:

. . . That’s a hard one. I’ve got to say maybe like she should get a taxi. But if you want to walk, you should have a right to walk home without living in fear. Or, you know . . . I was going to say like if you drank less . . . they wouldn’t think you’re an easy target . . . But once again, you do have the right to drink if you want to drink . . . I’m going to say also like maybe she had a friend with her. But if you want to walk . . . why should have I have a friend with me if I don’t want to? (Italics our emphasis)

Here, Darragh puts forward three ideas (i.e. get a taxi, drink less, walk home accompanied), one after another, which positions women as playing a role in their victimisation, yet he qualifies each, careful to add that despite these suggestions, women ‘do have the right’ to disregard them.

Overall, participants who blamed women deployed two argumentative structures: first, that ‘of course she has the right to do what she wants and to not be sexually assaulted, but . . .’; second, ‘it is unacceptable, but normalised’. However, to understand why these discursive lines of arguments which victim-blame are made, we need to examine the question of why these participants believe these behaviours are normalised.

Naturally normalised

In studies exploring different discursive contexts of VAW, naturalisation is a commonly invoked interpretive repertoire (Ehrlich, 2001; Hlavka, 2014; Weiss, 2009). Naturalisation refers to attributing behaviour to essentialist ideas about biological gender difference and was a discursive feature of those who blamed women. One form of naturalisation evident in the corpus is the classic ‘male sexual drive’ discourse, that is, that men cannot control their sexual urges (Hlavka, 2014; Weiss, 2009). For Aaron (male, 23), the men in the rape vignette took ‘advantage of a chance to do something that they just instinctively might want to do because maybe this Anna is a very, very attractive [woman] . . .’ (italics our emphasis). Fiona (female, 24), whose narrative was the most victim-blaming and hostile, drew on multiple references to essentialist discourses and invoked notions of hormones and ‘primal’ urges:

. . . you have to also acknowledge that like innate – we’re animals at the end of the day and we’re driven by our sexual urges and we’re primal at the best of times and we’ve got hormones, we’ve got loads of other stuff going on . . . she has to take a certain amount of responsibility for going out with a bunch of horny college-aged lads . . .

A second form of naturalisation was evident through the deployment of an immaturity discourse. Sarah (female, 18), for example, linked immaturity with sexual desire when asked about her perception of the causes of sexual assault:

Because boys are immature. If they see you dressed like that, they see it as consent in their own way even though it’s not.

The maturity discourse implies that socio-positive behaviour is associated with physiological development. Constituting the deployment of a ‘developmental repertoire’ (Govender et al., 2019), this discourse also implies that men who do not develop capacities for independent thought and self-control are naturally inclined to engage in nonrelational sexuality that privileges potentially coercive heterosexual pursuit.

Hidden beneath the maturity discourse then is the male sex drive discourse (Hlavka, 2014). This discourse positions men as lacking agency and implies that it is nature that is the problem and social norms in the form of social sanctioning and social learning are the solution. Against this discourse, our view is that social norms are part of the problem of men’s VAW in that, too often, it is precisely sexual harassment and violence that enable men to take up a ‘masculine’ subjectivity (Bolton et al., 2022).

Van Dijk (2006) notes that ‘ideologies become shared so widely that they seem to have become part of the generally accepted attitudes of an entire community, as obvious beliefs or opinion, or common sense’ (p. 117). Indeed, ‘common sense’ was implicitly or explicitly invoked by some participants who blamed women for sexual violence. Both Michael (male, 22) and Fiona (female, 24) argued that that idea that women can do what they want without fear of attack or without needing to take precautionary steps is a romantic and idealised view of the world:

We can all go out into the world and say what we would like and we can all be like feminists and we can all be . . . pretend to be oblivious to the fact that these things will happen. But, like for example, I wouldn’t walk through Wheatfield with like a gold watch . . . because I know I will get mugged . . . you have to have a bit of common sense too . . . (Michael)

It is no accident that Michael uses an analogy involving the possible stealing of a valuable material possession, as this also aligns with how women’s bodies have been viewed as commodities. The analogy can be rephrased: if a woman walks the streets at night alone, then she is ‘leaving a valued commodity, her body, where it can be taken’ (Beneke, 1982: 32).

In sum, similar to those who blamed men, participants recognised the ‘reality’ that SVAW is a problem but differed in their perception of how this reality could change (or not). Since the problem of SVAW is the result of natural ‘instincts’, change is difficult if not impossible. They argued that men’s SVAW is ‘normal’ because it is ‘natural’ under specific circumstances, a discursive process that we term natural normalisation. The argument constructed from these discourses is ‘it is unacceptable, but normalised, because it is natural and cannot change’. As we now show in the next section, this discursive line of argument impacts beliefs on how SVAW can be prevented, or more specifically, how women can avoid perpetration.

Adaptive discourses

Discourses of naturalisation form the basis for background knowledge (Fairclough, 2003) upon which women and perpetrators are positioned in relation to the apportioning of blame and responsibility. Participants who blamed women drew upon notions of ‘safe-keeping’ (Anitha et al., 2021: 2051; Vaadal, 2020: 1031) – that women should calculate and assess how their choices may contribute to violent encounters and should take steps to avoid entering such situations. We describe these as adaptive discourses rather than ‘the prevention discourse’, which positions women as responsible for preventing their own victimisation through calculated risk management (Frazier, 2021: 406; see also Hall, 2004). The term ‘adaptive discourse’ more meaningfully captures how victim-blaming is premised on a certain construction of gendered reality, namely that SVAW is a ‘natural consequence of male-female interaction’ (Mumby and Clair, 1997: 197).

One argumentative structure deployed was the notion that women should be mindful of how they get back home to avoid rape or being attacked through arguments that women should not walk home in the first place (Aaron, male, 23); should not walk home alone, especially when drunk and should be accompanied, preferably by a friend (Michael, male, 22; Darragh, male 19); should get a taxi (Michael); or if they have to walk home, women should not be ‘anywhere near a side street’ and ‘should be out in the open’ (Michael).

A second line of argument was that women should dress more conservatively. For these interviewees, through their liberal dress style, women may (un)intentionally give the impression that they consent to any form of physical touching without the need for verbal consent:

If you’re going to go out wearing clothes, you kind of have a way of saying it’s expected to happen . . . you are taking your own risk doing that. (Sarah, female, 18)

What is interesting is the way in which discourses of social construction were interwoven in some narratives. For example, Michael implied that liberal dress style has been socially constructed to be a sign of consent to touch or grab:

So while of course she should be able to wear whatever she wants, the society that we live in sees that as a GO sign . . . So flirting with someone while dressed like that in a nightclub setting would point towards ‘I’m okay with being treated like this’ . . .

Similarly, Aoife (female, 24), who expressed ambivalence about blame, felt that

. . . there shouldn’t be a stigma attached to someone that’s wearing less clothes or more revealing clothes. But there is . . . I don’t know will that ever change . . .

Invoking repertoires of ‘asking for it’ (Weiss, 2009), these discourses position women as the locus of agency, as appearance and behaviour are interpreted to be forms of action, where a woman’s actions take precedence over her words (Tinkler et al., 2018).

Some discourses imply that women’s choices go beyond mere ‘actions’ which invite men’s sexual behaviour, but rather constitute ‘provocations’, where men’s sexual behaviour is demanded. This is reflected in a variation of the ‘asking for it’ repertoire that positions women as natural manipulators who use their agency to tease men (Meyer, 2010; Tinkler et al., 2018). Responding to the party vignette, Brian (male, 24) believed that women ‘should be allowed to dress the way they want’, but nevertheless claimed ‘there’s issues on both sides’ in terms of blame. He pondered whether some women attempt to use clothing style to position men as inferior:

. . . is it that because they feel like that gives them men like this and it gives them the power thing? . . . It’s like this situation that I feel like for her it’s like a power dynamic almost. It’s like ‘I can show off but you can’t touch’. And it gives like a sense of like, oh, yeah, like, I have the control here . . . I’d have to question, like, is there almost like an intention of that?

Fiona’s (female, 24) narrative is (again) perhaps the most victim-blaming of all:

. . . she consented to put herself in the situation where boundaries are pretty like wishy-washy . . . I do think there’s a certain amount of accountability and responsibility. And, you know what? Part of her might have even liked being grabbed a little bit . . . Kind of if she didn’t want to be touched, she could have avoided that situation . . . being super-sexy and being kind of coy and playing it and kind of giggling and then playing hard to get.

Notice in Fiona’s narratives the multiple agentic positions she affords women, who are positioned as deciders and wearers (‘decided to wear’), knowers (‘she also knows that’), sexually powerful (‘she’s going to attract attention’), responsible (‘she has to take a certain amount of responsibility’), adventurers (‘going out with’), social signallers (‘she consented’), manipulators (‘playing hard’), and calculators and choosers (‘she could have avoided that situation’). Taking these three sections together, the argumentative structure follows the line of ‘it is unacceptable, but normalised, because it is natural therefore, women must adapt’.

Rights discourses

Discussing the unacceptability of perpetrators’ actions in the vignette scenarios, we also identified a ‘rights discourse’, where both groups drew upon notions of the (non)rights and (non)entitlements of perpetrators and victims. We observed differences between those who blamed men solely and those who blamed women in how they positioned women and perpetrators in relation to this repertoire. Eoin’s narrative exemplifies the key features of the use of a rights discourse for those who blamed men:

. . . you’ve no right to touch somebody else. You’ve none in any case. It doesn’t matter if you were joking or if you meant it in a sexual sense . . . you can’t do that, keep it to yourself, ask for consent. (Eoin, male, 18)

There are several features to this excerpt. First, his assertions are categorically authoritative (Fairclough, 1992; Simpson, 1993), similar to the general modality employed by those who blamed men. Related to this is the genre (Fairclough, 1992) that is implied by his narrative, namely, it is argumentative to the point of being instructional.

What is most interesting, however, is the ‘you-centredness’ (Fairclough, 1992: 178) of Eoin’s narrative, exemplified through the pronouns ‘you’ve’, ‘you’, and ‘yourself’. You-centredness here refers to who is being centred as the intended consumer or target of the narrative, in this case, a perpetrator. In other narratives, perpetrators were only implicitly implied: for example, Kate (female, age 23) argues that a ‘short skirt does not give anybody the right to grab her’. Although the absence of ‘you’ makes the genre of her narrative argumentative rather than instructional and direct, perpetrators are still invoked.

Examining how topics are framed draws attention to the ordering of voices and agency (Fairclough, 2003). What these insights show is that in their use of a rights discourse, those who blamed men framed the issue of SVAW in terms of the non-rights of perpetrators to touch a person without the person’s consent. Here, the issue is framed in relation to perpetrators’ agency. In positioning perpetrators as needing to ask for consent, they position them as having agency and responsibility for their actions. We argue that this framing of a rights discourse constitutes a critical discourse, as it recognises the flexibility of social relations rather than the fixity and unchangeability that are implied through essentialist interpretive repertoires.

When the ‘rights’ discourse was invoked by those who blamed women, a different argumentation structure in relation to positionalities was evident:

Nobody has the right to touch you or go near you . . . but you are taking a risk doing that (Sarah, female, 18)

. . . like that girl was probably wearing quite revealing outfit-and all the more power to her. (Aoife, female, 24)

Notice here that the locus of ‘you-centredness’ (Fairclough, 1992; Simpson, 1993) indicated by the positioning of personal pronouns (e.g. ‘she’s’, ‘her’, ‘they’ and ‘you’) within the argumentative structure refers to women and victims, rather than men and perpetrators. In terms of the invocation of rights and entitlements, SVAW is framed by these participants in terms of women’s right to do what they want and to act on their agency, rather than the non-rights of perpetrators and their agentic obligation to ask for consent.

This argumentative construction has two effects. First, it obscures the role of the perpetrator. Darragh’s (male, 19, see page 11) argument that ‘If you want to walk, you should have a right to walk home without living in fear’ best captures this. Here, the ‘you-centredness’ is on the woman (i.e. ‘If you want to walk, you should have . . .’). The phrase ‘living in fear’ constitutes a form of nominalisation, meaning a clause has been converted into a nominal or noun (Fairclough, 1992). Since the agent of the clause is deleted, agency and responsibility for action are mystified and anonymised (Fairclough, 1992). Who or what causes women to ‘live in fear’? What specific actors or actions need to be constrained for women to actualise their rights without fear? The discursive structuring of these rights-based arguments inhibits thinking about the perpetrators who create this ‘fear’.

Even when perpetrators are partially invoked in these narratives, there is still a side-lining of agency through ‘agentless passives’ (Ehrlich, 2001: 39):

. . . he wasn’t given consent to touch her. (Fiona, female, 24)

Someone’s dress doesn’t give consent. (Darragh, male, 19)

Whereas those who blamed men stressed that perpetrators need to ‘ask for consent’ (Eoin, male, 18), in the case of Fiona here, the issue is not that the perpetrator did not ‘ask’ for consent, but that the woman did not give it. This reproduces heteronormative scripts that position women as gatekeepers of sexual interaction (Becker and Tinkler, 2015; Hlavka, 2014; Vaadal, 2020). In the case of Darragh, the absence of a ‘you’ (i.e. ‘Someone’s dress doesn’t give you consent’) mystifies the recipient of consent. Women’s agency as (non)givers of consent is privileged over men’s capacities and responsibilities to ask for consent.

This side-lining of men’s or perpetrators’ agency and capacity to make choices and be accountable for those choices is no coincidence, but part of the ‘orders of discourse’ (Fairclough, 1992) within debates about SVAW. Given that those participants who blame women also draw upon essentialist repertories, it is no wonder that they also reframe the topic of discussion as one of women’s rights and choices, given that men are implicitly positioned as having limited choices. Indeed, this reframing is the second effect of these discourses. The vignettes are not about women’s right to choose how to live, yet participants’ focus on women’s rights to make choices implies that this is the topic of discussion.

Discussion

This article expands on the literature that explores young people’s perceptions of and responses to SVAW generally (Anitha et al., 2021; Gunby et al., 2020; Hackman et al., 2017; Hlavka, 2014; Vaadal, 2020) and their apportioning of blame specifically (Becker and Tinkler, 2015) in several ways. It builds on the literature that explores young people’s attitudes by comparing young people who categorically reject victim-blaming to those who in some way blamed women and victims. The article contributes to an understanding that (non)victim-blaming involves a string of argumentation that is woven together through different interpretive repertoires and ideological assumptions about the gendered nature of reality. Those who blamed men drew upon critical discourses that recognise the role of gendered socialisation and power structures as formative components of rape culture (Anitha et al., 2021). They identified, but categorically rejected, the ‘victim-focused approach’ (Frazier, 2021: 413) whereby ‘prevention’ is about what women can do to prevent victimisation. Their discourses were dependent upon a view of acts as socially derived, and thus they constructed the social world, perpetrators, and SVAW as amenable to change. Those who blamed women drew upon adaptive discourses as they invoked heteronormative sexual scripts and essentialist repertoires (Anitha et al., 2021) that construct perpetrators’ behaviours as fixed at worst and difficult to change at best. They attributed women’s failure to manage risk as part of the cause of SVAW (Anitha et al., 2021; Frazier, 2021; Gunby et al., 2020).

We build on analyses of discourses of victim-blaming (e.g. Fanghanel and Lim, 2017; Hlavka, 2014; Tinkler et al., 2018; Weiss, 2009) by identifying a ‘rights discourse’ within these discursive repertoires. By emphasising the non-rights of men and perpetrators to touch a person without their consent, those who blamed perpetrators challenged their assumed entitlement within dominant heteronormative scripts (Anitha et al., 2021; Tinkler et al., 2018). On the other hand, those who blamed women emphasised women’s rights to do what they want. Here, we suggest that this discourse opens up space for a notion of agency that relates to becoming an informed subject who calculates risk and who, in accepting responsibility for that risk, adapts her body accordingly (Frazier, 2021; Hall, 2004; Meyer, 2010). The emphasis on women’s rights and entitlements to choose their bodily presentation and comportment echoes neoliberal post-feminist discourses of empowerment and choice (Anitha et al., 2021; Frazier, 2021; Gunby et al., 2020). Ultimately, the ‘be who you want to be’ narrative of post-feminism is a false promise within a culture infused with heteronormative discourses (Bailey et al., 2015: 749).

How the effects of discourses proliferate beyond the immediate situation of concern is key within CDA (Fairclough, 2003). Here, our findings illuminate issues focused around gradations of blame and hostility expressed towards victims of SVAW. First, our findings suggest that once any blame or responsibility is attributed to women for sexual violence, adaptive discourses and the elision of perpetrators’ agency are deployed in a way that marginalises more critical discourses. While the majority of young people who apportioned some blame to women did not express hostility to women, we suggest that their discourses remain problematic. They solidify ‘moments of sense-making that have effects in the material world’ (Harris et al., 2012: 644; Lockyer and Savigny, 2020), namely, the maintenance of rape culture, which refers to ‘the cultural practices that reproduce and justify the perpetration of sexual violence’ (Lockyer and Savigny, 2020: 437). The findings suggest that reconfiguring discourses conducive to rape culture depends on the categorical and unequivocal attribution of blame and responsibility for SVAW to perpetrators only.

What is concerning is that the sample in this study was self-selected and was made up of young people who have some social consciousness about the problem of VAW. Yet here we suggest hope and avenues for intervention. Building on literature exploring how young people apportion blame for SVAW (Becker and Tinkler, 2015), we have shown that discourses do not fall into strict, bounded categories. The use of disclaimers that express antagonism does provide some grounds for optimism, providing that they are interrogated further. As semantic moves, they constitute ideological dilemmas (Edley, 2001) as they show a cognisance of the different ways in which the world might be alternatively represented (Fairclough, 2003). We agree with Fanghanel and Lim (2017: 355) that such antagonisms can open up ‘productive becomings’ that enable possibilities for these antagonisms to be addressed as it is precisely these tensions ‘which prompts conversation itself’ (Edley, 2001: 204).

Discourses of naturalisation come about through the same process as theorists have conceptualised gender, namely, their performance as discourses creates the illusion of a firm, unchanging reality (Butler, 2006). Essentialist repertoires operate as a feedback loop, (re)producing the gendered norms and reality which they claim to represent. The constructionist view which we adopt holds that it is precisely through sexual violence that some men take up masculine subject positions (Bolton et al., 2022), but positions that are changeable. We therefore suggest that it is vital for young people to have opportunities to engage in critical discourses as a way of challenging victim-blaming logics which perpetuate the maintenance of rape culture and SVAW.