April 8, 2004

Domestic violence cuts across socio-economic barriers and is a worldwide phenomenon. There are literally countless women who bear this torture, silently. They do so not only out of fear but also because they don’t see a way out, writes Hilda Saeed

She was the wife of a reputed medical specialist and a mother of four children. Her older son was abroad, studying for a post-graduate degree, and the younger one would soon be graduating from medical college. The two daughters were still in junior college. A very positive family picture, which is why, neighbours and those in her social circle, wondered why she often seemed so quiet and withdrawn, and rarely shared real friendship with anyone.

She knew only too well, but they were not matters she could share with others. She remembered the first time he was violent towards her. When had he first slapped her? Was it in the second, or third month of their marriage? That was another vague, tired memory. He’d slapped her, and the reason was a paltry one: he didn’t like the way she had folded his handkerchief when she ironed it, the corners didn’t quite meet. She’d thought then that perhaps she had been careless, and vowed to try harder next time. But it was of no use.

These trivial reasons for violent attacks and abuse continued and the feelings of inadequacy and hurt never really left her — the emotional and physical pain ricocheted through her system each time, till today, until it was almost an integral part of her. The difference now only lay in the intensity of the pain, which went up and down, like a seesaw.

Another case was of a woman who had two young daughters, who, when her husband died, was left without any means of protection or support. She remarried, only to enter a life of sheer hell. He beat her black and blue almost every day. He raped her two daughters, one of whom, just 14 years old, conceived, and is now the mother of a baby boy. In desperation, she fled with her daughters and today has sought refuge in a shelter home.

A third case is of a frail, emaciated woman, the wife of a drug addict. He pimps her to neighbouring men, as many as six or seven every night, so that he can have enough money for his drugs. If she refuses, she’s beaten to a pulp.

It’s not the husband alone who is the perpetrator of violence, sometimes he’s joined by his brother/s, or father and/or mother. The abuse can be physical or verbal, emotional or psychological. Invariably, the women are frightened for their children, or scared of neighbours finding out, plus they are petrified that any talk by others might draw more abuse.

The stories are endless and there are thousands, millions of them, each one a different tale of agony.

It’s a fallacy that domestic violence occurs only in the lower socio-economic strata, say psychiatrists, psychologists and workers. In actual fact, it cuts across all social classes and ethnic groups, educated and uneducated. At War Against Rape (WAR) Karachi, which handles both cases of rape and of domestic violence, cases come from all segments of society: from Defence to Orangi and katchi abadis.

Physical abuse ranges from slaps and kicks, cuts and bruises, to black eyes and broken bones. In the worst case scenarios the woman may be burnt or killed. Hallucinations, nightmares, mental disturbances, memory loss, stress-related illnesses, depression including severe depression, sometimes leading to suicide are all common findings among the women who have been abused. Even pregnancy is not a factor that deters or lessens violence; it continues, including physical attacks directly on the abdomen that leads to miscarriages.

In some cases, the woman’s emotional state is made even worse and her pain increased when the husband commits incest with one of her daughters. To leave is not an option, there is fear that the situation might deteriorate further, nor does she have the finances to support her children and herself.

There was another case, equally traumatic for the woman, when the husband wanted to have ‘deviant sex’ with her while she was pregnant. Her refusal drew repeated and severe beatings. Her parents said they were helpless so she approached a lawyer, who advised her to return to him after her child was born. He was least concerned about the nightmare that awaited her for the next seven months.

Abused girls who have lived with incestuous attacks suffer from serious emotional and mental illnesses that require long-term treatment. But rarely do such victimized girls and women receive the psychological or psychiatric counselling and therapy they so desperately need.

They live in terror, afraid to say or do anything that might trigger further bouts of violence. The majority dare not leave, partly because they have no confidence in themselves and partly because no matter what, they cannot bear the thought of leaving their children. They lose their self-esteem, become unable to cope and are inhibited, passive and helpless.

Abused women’s words, from numerous countries of the world are incredibly similar: “I wasn’t badly hurt. My ear was bruised, and my hair was pulled out.”

“I had my nose broken, my ribs broken, two black eyes. He dragged me out of bed, by my hair, and pulled me along the ground.”

“I had treatment for a fractured skull.”

“I felt so tired after the beatings, and so useless. I couldn’t face people with marks on my body.”

“I was terrified, and he loved this.”

“I had to make sure I didn’t offend him. I had become afraid of him.” (From Women, Violence and Social Change by R. Emerson Dobash & Russell P. Dobash. Rutledge Publishers, 1992.)

Zainab Mahmood, psychologist and counsellor at WAR, discusses some of the problems of the victims they’ve tried to help. The youngest was a 20-year-old girl while the eldest was a mature married woman in her 30s, educated, a graduate and from the middle class. Both had been abused for eight years. Both tried to adjust; typically, the abused woman tends to feel the fault is hers for inviting the abuse; therefore she tries her best to live with the unhappy state of affairs.

Such women even develop a justification for the beatings, and mentally switch off, especially when they’re with friends, relatives, or work colleagues. Even though it’s a known fact that initial violence triggers greater violence later on. Their plight remains hidden, because most women are too embarrassed to let society know the real situation. Rehabilitation for those who seek help takes a long stretch of time, about seven to eight years on average.

The birth of children becomes a hugely complicating factor; most women will put up with almost anything to be with their children. Breaking point comes when the children are affected, or when their own lives are threatened and even then, very few women gather up the courage to seek a way out. The older woman, for instance, had been beaten not only by her husband, but also by her brothers-in-law and the mother-in-law. It was only when they tried to set her on fire that she finally made her escape.

The incidence of violence and abuse of women appears to be significantly high. While there is no national data, several smaller studies indicate that in Pakistan, somewhere between 50-70 per cent of women are abused.

A study by doctors Zeba Sathar and Shanaz Kazi (Women's Autonomy, Livelihood & Fertility; Pakistan Institute of Development Economics, 1997) carried out with 1000 women in 10 communities in rural Punjab revealed that 82 per cent lived in fear of their husbands. Beatings ranged from 29 per cent for those who were sometimes beaten to 60 per cent for those who experienced frequent or regular beatings; the latter included those were income earners. Low levels of autonomy were associated with higher incidence of wife beating, and of those who were beaten, as many as 92 per cent became afraid even to disagree with their husbands.

What exactly is it that causes male violence? There is a diversity of causes. There is the ‘religious lobby’ that firmly believes that evil spirits have entered the man and are triggering his violent behaviour — they see prayers and faith as the answer. “Women themselves contribute to similar approaches by their misinterpretation of Quranic ayats,” says Khalida Ahmad Qadri, socio-legal officer at WAR.

There are the ‘therapeutic’ approaches: one of them considered women’s personalities responsible for men’s violence. The same theories also blamed mothers for the creation of violent men. Such men are regarded as victims of their past experiences, primarily at the hands of women, invariably mothers, sometimes wives. Therefore, this theory advocated treatment of the wife, rather than the husband/abuser. The focus of attention is on the women, who need to change their behaviour to end male violence.

Fortunately, this thinking is now undergoing a change, so that men who physically abuse their partners receive treatment. According to this theory, the ‘blame’ is put on the man’s clinical condition and inner chemistry — poor diets, nutritional deficiencies, low blood sugar, and biochemical imbalances that are considered responsible for the temper tantrums, violent outbursts and anti-social behaviour.

Other more modern theories put the reason down to psychological explanations of human behaviour —men who have experienced rejection and feelings of inadequacy in childhood, suffer in adult life from the same inadequacy and impaired ‘ego-function’, with anti-social and pre-morbid personalities.

They may also have witnessed, or suffered, violence as children. Some researchers think that ‘the love/hurt/rage reactions that helpless boys feel towards their abusive, powerful parent/s ... are replayed by these men in their marriages’. Such men are described as frightened victimized bullies who experience mood swings, pain and anger. They suffer from a sort of ‘atavistic madness’.

Zainab Mahmood thinks violent men are seriously depressive — poverty and monetary frustration are the triggers for large numbers of men. Sometimes the husband may be involved in an extra-marital affair, in which case an argument will result in beatings for the wife.

Personality is also a factor, but there are several others. However, of this she is convinced, that such men definitely have aggressive characteristics. They cannot stand denial in even the smallest thing. These factors eventually bring on the aggressiveness and abuse.

Mahmood recalled a recent case: a young woman, who was given in exchange in a watta satta marriage. In a very short while she realized her husband was abusive, but she felt there was no escape for her, this was her fate, kismet. Her parents’ view was that she should be patient and learn to bear the travails of marriage. It was after a long time when she, unlettered, poor, and without parental support, finally plucked up courage, and made her way to WAR, which is now handling her case.

There are many more cases of domestic violence, yet Mahmood thinks that the ones that come forward are only the tip of the iceberg. The majority of women suffer in silence. Of the abused women who seek help, most have lived with the abuse for many years, an average of seven to eight years, before they reach the decision to change their lives.

Strangely enough, even educated women who are breadwinners are among the abused. There was the case of a college lecturer, who was forced to hand over her salary to her abusive spouse every month, which she did, each time in the hope that if she handed over all the money, the abuse would stop — it didn’t.

There are senior office workers who frequently face violence at home, maybe the night before, or at breakfast, and then get ready for work. On days when he’s been excessively abusive, she ends up taking sick leave. Even then, this knowledge is kept hidden from prying eyes, from neighbours, friends, and work colleagues. In front of all of them, she tries her best to live up to the ideal of the happy couple, because she knows full well that ours is a falsely pretentious society.

Why do they live with it?

Most become resigned to this state of affairs, they think it is their fate, and that this is what male attitudes are. “I meet them in their homes; the worst is their trauma and hesitation. They have this feeling that at least within their four walls they’re safe. They have few avenues of escape, rarely a shoulder to cry on,” says Qadri.

“Even parents are helpless,” says Mahmood. “They empathize, they feel deeply for their daughters, but are usually in no position to help. They themselves are so poor, and they consider themselves powerless. They can’t afford to look after divorced daughters and their children, nor can they face societal pressures.”

“It is, above all, a male dominated society. These patriarchal trends have forced women to be subservient, to compromise, to fear society and its pressures,” comments Qadri. “When there’s no physical torture, it’s mental or verbal. If you ask me, I tend to think 99 per cent of women suffer from some form of abuse. Gender equality is a far cry,” she adds.

There are a few channels of escape, but these shelters are woefully insufficient. There are the government run Daar-ul-Ammans, and two independent shelters, one each in Karachi and Lahore (Panah and Dastak), run by human and women’s rights groups. Women’s Crisis Centres were to be established for immediate counselling and care during Nawaz Sharif’s government, but Aasia Munir, a lawyer at WAR, has no knowledge of them.

The much publicized women’s police stations are lackadaisical in their approach, nor are the police women in a position to really take decisions that are in the hands of their male seniors. Recently, says Munir, WAR needed to pursue a case, and requested a meeting with the IG Police for this purpose, even he was not available to talk to them.

Sadly, even doctors who treat abused women have not raised their voices in support. A recent study by the Pakistan Society of Gynaecologists and Obstetricians and the Population Council indicated that the majority of doctors (specialists, and others in gynaecology and obstetrics) were unaware of the strategies and counselling skills required to help victims.

They had no knowledge of shelters or help groups where they could refer such cases; they were also unaware of the barriers that prevent patients from coming forward. But on the positive side, 83 per cent of obstetricians wanted specific training in counselling skills and referral systems.

“The one good thing is that courts are empathetic towards women who seek divorce or khula,” comments Munir. “Frequently, cases are heard in chambers, so as to help reduce the woman’s stress and anxiety. Most women are so afraid of the torture they have suffered during marriage that they are ready to forego their dower. Another positive outcome is that the court frequently gives custody of the children to the mother and orders the father to pay regularly for their maintenance.”

Court decisions are usually made according to Islamic injunctions; Munir’s experience has been that few men are really keen to have custody of their children, so decisions go through fairly easily. Which is just as well, because children from broken marriages are badly disturbed.

Courts of law represent one means of final decision and escape, another is shelters — women’s and human rights groups are the intermediaries who facilitate access to justice. But the victims who come forward are like a drop in the ocean, there are countless more whose lives are snuffed out with the pain of their daily existence. Society offers them little help.

In fact, Mahmood says, “society encourages this behaviour by tacitly letting it continue. How many criminals have been punished for rape, let alone for domestic violence? A woman is an equal citizen of the state and must be entitled to the same legal rights as a man. To abuse and torture a woman is a criminal offence and must be treated as such. Till society recognizes the extent of this terrible crime, and makes substantial efforts to eliminate it, and to educate the public for greater gender sensitivity and male responsibility, we aren’t likely to see positive change.”

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