It’s a phrase that pops up, isn't it? "The useless extra knows it all... but does he?" It’s a sentiment that can apply to so many situations, but when you start digging into how the law grapples with deeply human experiences, like sexual violence, that question takes on a whole new weight.
For centuries, the legal system, in its grand pronouncements and dusty tomes, has often felt like it was speaking a different language than the people it was meant to serve. Historically, laws weren't exactly designed with empathy in mind. They were structures that, intentionally or not, reinforced inequalities. Think about it: for a long time, a married woman's right to say 'no' to her husband simply didn't exist in the eyes of the law. And if a woman, particularly one who wasn't married, dared to speak out against a man, she often faced not justice, but accusations of lying and the painful sting of victim-blaming.
It’s a stark reminder that the "law in books" can be a world away from the "law in action." While the legal landscape has certainly shifted – and thankfully so – in places like Portugal, where legislation has evolved since the 1990s to recognize sexual crimes as an offense against an individual's right to sexual self-determination, the echoes of the past linger.
We've seen changes. Expressions that focused on a victim's 'modesty' or 'decency' have been removed from criminal codes. Controversial clauses that allowed for reduced penalties based on a victim's alleged 'provocative behavior' or their relationship with the accused have been repealed. The language has become more gender-neutral, and the definition of rape has broadened to encompass 'all penetration.' These are significant steps, no doubt.
Yet, as research has shown, even with these legislative advancements, the discourses within Portuguese jurisprudence and legal scholarship can still reveal deeply ingrained stereotypes about how rape victims 'should' behave and biased evaluations that seem to work against women. This isn't about pointing fingers at individuals, but about understanding how deeply held beliefs, influenced by societal norms and individual interpretations, can shape the application of the law.
It highlights a crucial point: the law, while aiming for objectivity, is ultimately interpreted and applied by people. And those people, judges and prosecutors included, are not immune to the cultural narratives and personal biases that surround sensitive issues like sexual violence. The interviews conducted with legal professionals in Portugal, for instance, revealed that while the 'law in books' might have evolved, the 'law in action' can still be profoundly influenced by doctrine and the magistrates' own individual beliefs.
So, when we ask, "the useless extra knows it all... but does he?" in the context of the legal system and issues like sexual violence, it’s a call to look beyond the statutes. It’s an invitation to consider whether the 'know-it-all' pronouncements of the law truly encompass the lived realities and feelings of those who have experienced trauma. It’s a reminder that true justice requires not just legal frameworks, but a profound understanding and empathy that can bridge the gap between legal theory and human experience.
