(A version of this piece was originally written upon request in 2020 for the Times of India although it was withdrawn because of suggestions to change it in ways the author, Nandita Saikia, was uncomfortable. Although it was written when fear of COVID-19 was especially high, with good reason, the pandemic seems to have merely brought pre-existing issues into sharp relief, issues which, sadly, have not yet been resolved ensuring that this piece is not yet irrelevant although it could, perhaps do with some updating.)
We know with reasonable certainty that the pandemic we're currently in the midst of has not enhanced women's safety in the least. There's not a day which goes by without horrific reports of violence against women in the media, and anecdata suggests that domestic violence has been increasing exponentially although addressing it is difficult and, perhaps understandably, does not appear to be anyone's highest priority even though it may be a life-and-death issue for an abused person.
Indian law on domestic violence has not changed drastically. It may be possible to invoke criminal law particularly against physical assault although the efficacy and desirability of the carceral justice it metes out is debatable. Civil law presents abused persons with a number of paths to attempt to protect themselves including by separating from their abusers. And there remains the hybrid of criminal and civil law that is the Domestic Violence Act under which orders pertaining to protection, custody, residence, and finances can be sought.
In a welcome move, the scope of residence orders which can be issued under the Domestic Violence Act has recently been widened by the Supreme Court although, if their practical effect would be to leave abused women in hostile environments, as important as shelter is, seeking such orders may not always be appropriate. Also, since the COVID-19 crisis began, actually invoking the law to aid one is even more of a challenge than usual.
Enforcement agencies, inadequately resourced at the best of times, are under tremendous pressure due to the pandemic and, even if one is lucky enough to have personal resources at one's disposal, accessing a lawyer and making one's way through the legal system, which is still adjusting virtual proceedings and to the demands which the pandemic has made of it, is a challenge for many of those who would benefit from immediate assistance.
Beyond the legal sphere is the issue of abuse which is simply not addressed by the law. Criminal law, for example, is rarely willing to recognise marital rape as a crime, so it is impossible ascertain the extent to which its occurrence has increased since the pandemic began using crime reports. Even in ordinary times, we simply do not have an accurate understanding of how prevalent marital rape is beyond indications in health surveys which are alarming.
Accessing the law is, however, nowhere near enough to counter domestic violence. In the immediate aftermath of abuse, it is often also critical to be able to access appropriate healthcare.
What would have otherwise been a fairly routine trip to an emergency room is now fraught with additional challenges: the healthcare system is unusually strained, and making arrangements for issues as basic as consent for surgery can pose a particular challenge especially if family members are not supportive of an injured person accessing healthcare. Not finding hospital rooms easily means that those who have been injured may be forced to seek healthcare wherever it appears to be available. And, should a surgery be botched, it may be a challenge to find other surgeons to ameliorate the issue.
There is little to aid those who are subject to domestic violence even in urgent cases. The already-fragile infrastructure to address immediate issues currently seems to be on the verge of collapse. Shelters and women's rights organisations, not necessarily reliable even before the onset of the pandemic, plod on though what they can do, even when they do their best, is limited. Almost all that remains relatively intact is the slim possibility of social support.
On one hand, the ostensibly liberal amongst us continue to ask why abused women don't 'just leave' seeming to believe that the question isn't both ridiculous and intrusive. If not anything else, although each woman's motivations differ, the reasons why women stay in abusive situations have been established: they could include fears about respectability and acceptance, financial constraints, not recognising abuse for what it is, and having concerns about the custody of children.
On the other hand, the avowedly conservative amongst us tend to focus on what abused persons supposedly do to provoke abuse, and tend to suggest that those who are abused modify their conduct to avoid being further abused. In doing so, they ignore the fact that many abusers are abusive simply because they know that they will not be held accountable.
Considering that standing up for a person being abused is often expensive, time consuming, and emotionally draining, it is not surprising that expressions of concern, regardless of whether they come from liberal or conservative people, often seem designed to elicit, ideally from those being abused, reasons why no-one needs to get involved. Such reasons can help salve our conscience when we do nothing worth mentioning to counter abuse we know of in our social circles.
Abused persons rarely have networks to support them simply because we are not willing to invest the resources necessary to develop support systems. Nonetheless, if there is an iota of sincerity in our expressed concerns about domestic abuse, it is imperative that we make the effort to provide logistical, financial, and emotional support to those who are abused, and to visibly stand against those who are abusive. To refuse to actively assist persons being abused, if one can, is to be complicit in abuse.