How is it possible that someone could find more than 50 men within a 20-kilometer radius via the internet who were willing to rape a drugged woman? This is what French philosopher Manon Garcia questions in her book „Living with Men“ concerning the Pelicot trial. Garcia powerfully demonstrates that the perpetrators are not monsters or outliers, but rather ordinary men – with families, jobs, and friends.
Garcia writes about the so-called Pelicot trial in France, one of the most shocking cases of sexual violence in recent years. For nearly ten years, Gisèle Pelicot was drugged and raped by her then-husband, Dominique Pelicot. At the same time, he offered her to other men for rape in online forums.
But first, Garcia writes about the victim: Gisele Pelicot, who has since become an icon in the fight against sexual violence by foregoing her right to anonymity and insisting on a public trial. Her words: “Shame must change sides” resonated around the world. Only this step made widespread reporting on the trial possible. Garcia has therefore dedicated her book to Gisele Pelicot “and all the others.”.
A “Good Sacrifice” - Why Gisele Pelicot Became a Symbol
Of course, the Pelicot case is no exception. Rapes and other forms of sexualized violence occur every day all over the world. This case may stand out as particularly insidious. Nevertheless, Garcia wonders why Gisele Pelicot in particular could so quickly become a symbolic figure: Her courage in refusing the exclusion of the public undoubtedly played a role. Garcia describes her as a woman of unparalleled straightforwardness, “upright, friendly, proud.” But there are other reasons as well.
“The longer the process took, the more my admiration for her grew. I am impressed by her kindness towards all the people who came to support her.”
She also fits a profile that society perceives as suitable, possessing the personality, social background, and appearance that are “necessary,” as Garcia writes. She is “neither too beautiful nor too ugly, nor too fat nor too angry nor too sad nor too poor nor too dark-skinned.” Then there's her age: Even conservatives can't easily accuse a woman over 70 of being “to blame.” This makes her a “good victim,” as Garcia writes. Those who don't fit this image usually fight in court alone.
The book shows: In the Pelicot case, there were likely many more victims – but this was not their trial
Afterward, Garcia turns his attention to the perpetrators. Firstly, Dominique Pelicot, who drugged and raped his wife for years, and allowed her to be raped by other men. He recorded almost all of these rapes on video. Furthermore, he is accused of taking unauthorized photos of “sexual content” of his daughter and his two daughters-in-law. It was not part of the trial, but the similarity between the videos of the abuse of Gisele Pelicot and these photos gives cause to fear that Dominique Pelicot drugged and – alone or with others – raped his daughter and daughters-in-law. In her book “And I Will Never Call You Dad Again,” his daughter, Caroline Darian, accuses her father of having done just that. He denied this during the Pelicot trial. Investigations into this matter are ongoing.
“The suspicion of incest hangs over this trial, but it's not really part of it.”
The family panorama that Garcia unfolds further on is horrifying: there is also the suspicion that Dominique Pelicot abused or at least attempted to abuse his grandchildren. During the witness testimonies, it is revealed that the Pelicot family is riddled with actual and suspected incestuous acts.
And this is not uncommon: Garcia uses numbers to make it clear that child abuse within families is extremely common – contrary to what the idea of the incest taboo might suggest. The lowest estimate assumes that 6 percent of children become victims of incest, but the commonly cited estimate speaks of at least 10 percent of children.
The perpetrators are usually “normal” men, not obvious monsters
The main part of the book deals with the additional defendants. The men who had contacted Dominique Pelicot through a website to rape his wife. A total of 51 men were identified and indicted. Many of them nevertheless did not consider themselves rapists.
For Garcia, that's the real shock of the case. It's not about individual monsters or exceptional figures. It's about „normal“ men. Men with families, professions, and social circles. Dominique Pelicot had all these men within a radius of only Found within 20 kilometers. He recruited them via the website Coco.gg, a publicly accessible online chat site. What does it say about our society when you can find more than 50 men within a 20-kilometer radius who are willing to rape a sleeping woman? Men who declared in court that they believed Dominique Pelicot could do whatever he wanted with his wife. It is precisely this normality that makes the case so disturbing for Garcia.
The banality of the male
The philosopher draws on Hannah Arendt’s famous concept of the „banality of evil.“ In her book on the Eichmann trial, Arendt described how cruel crimes can be committed not only by fanatical monsters, but also by ordinary people. Garcia applies this idea to patriarchy and speaks of a „banality of masculinity.“ She does not view violence against women as an exception, but rather as part of social structures.
“Many of the defendants seem outraged that anyone would even for a second compare them to that monster, Dominique Pelicot.”
A central idea of the book is therefore: masculinity in patriarchal societies does not arise in spite of the devaluation of women, but through it. Many men resist this idea – and Garcia takes this objection seriously. „Patriarchy sometimes sounds like a conspiracy,“ she writes, „as if men had consciously allied themselves against women.“ Yet there are men who are themselves oppressed, who dominate no one, who feel dominated by the world.
No collective guilt, but collective responsibility
But patriarchy is not a conspiracy. It doesn't need evil intentions to function. It just needs normalcy: Women are let into clubs for free to attract men. On the street or online, women's bodies are evaluated and commented on. And prostitution, as an institution, ensures that women's bodies are generally considered always available – even for men who never use their services.
“The norms of masculinity and femininity prevent men from seeing women as subjects, as fellow human beings whom they could love and recognize as such.”
This means no collective guilt for Garcia, but a collective responsibility. No one claims, she writes, that all men are equally guilty as Dominique Pelicot or his accomplices. But everyone participates in rituals, affirms values, and appreciates behaviors that make it possible for ordinary men to go out and rape a woman they don't know. And then, in court, not understand what they did wrong.
Two justifications repeatedly emerged: Many perpetrators claimed they had not used violence – Gisèle Pelicot was asleep, after all. And many invoked the fact that Dominique Pelicot, as a husband, had the right to dictate to his wife. His permission was enough. Garcia sees a terrifying mindset in this precisely: Rape was only understood as visible – meaning brutal physical violence – and the woman as the property of her husband. The fact that an unconscious woman can never consent – and that no third party's permission can replace that consent – they completely disregarded. Some even saw themselves as victims of Dominique Pelicot in the end.
The myth of the sex-obsessed man excuses perpetrators.
Garcia also analyzes the myths that enable such actions. One of them is that men have difficulty controlling their sexual urges. In court, it has repeatedly been claimed that men „lose their minds“ in sexual situations. Garcia shows how dangerous this idea is. It excuses perpetrators and shifts responsibility away from men.
Another misconception concerns the idea that men are entitled to sex. Several defendants justified their actions by stating that they were no longer having sex in their relationships. Garcia makes it clear how closely sexuality and power are linked here. Women do not appear as independent subjects with their own boundaries, but as bodies to which men lay claim.
Women learn early on to see themselves as “rapeable.”
The book makes it clear how widespread sexualized violence actually is. According to the EU Fundamental Rights Agency, every third woman in Europe has experienced physical or sexualized violence since the age of 15. In Germany, almost every day a woman experiences an attempted femicide, meaning an attempted murder by a man, usually from her close circle. Violence is part of everyday life for many women.
“You're not paranoid. You know the numbers. That's worse.”
Garcia therefore also describes how women grow up with a constant feeling of potential danger. Many women learn early to be careful at night, to share their locations, or to avoid situations that seem completely natural to men. The book powerfully shows how much this knowledge shapes everyday life. Women learn early to understand themselves as “rapeable,” as she writes.
Brotherhood over Justice – Men Protecting Men
Furthermore, Garcia's analysis of solidarity among men is shocking. Why didn't any of the men report Dominique Pelicot to the police? Why didn't anyone intervene? Garcia refers here to a „brotherhood instead of justice.“ Men often protect other men or make excuses for their behavior instead of showing solidarity with the affected women.
Another term that Garcia picks up on fits with this: „himpathy.“ This refers to excessive sympathy for male perpetrators. It is repeatedly emphasized that a perpetrator was actually a good father or a nice colleague. This is exactly what shifts the focus. Instead of talking about the suffering of the victims, the debate suddenly revolves around the reputation of the men.
Garcia deliberately avoids writing in an abstract or academic style. Her book is philosophical, yet personal. She repeatedly describes her own anger throughout the process. This allows her to connect theoretical analysis with the emotional reality of many women.
“How should one love when men observe the process from afar like an insignificant event that doesn't concern them, and when women see traces of their everyday lives in it?”
One would have to love women a little
In conclusion, she poses the question of how women and men can live together at all. After so many cases of violence against women have become public in recent years, trust has been shattered. The responsibility to restore this trust lies with men. At the end, Garcia writes: “I thought it was partly up to us to ask ourselves if we should really love men the way we love them, but I'm starting to think they should love women a little. A little, just a little. That they love us a little, so that we can continue to love them.”
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