BASV: The Importance of Louise Nicholas

I originally wrote this in October 2007 and it seems timely to publish it now, for the first time, for Blog Against Sexual Violence Day 2008.



I went to hear Louise Nicholas talk about her book and her experiences this week. I didn't just go to hear her, but to see her without the filters of television or newspaper or internet, and also because I wanted to thank her. I doubted I would have the opportunity to actually squeak my meagre "thanks" at her in person, but I hoped that by being in the audience, by standing and clapping her at appropriate moments, I would communicate my gratitude.

I clearly wasn't the only one with this thought, as the crowd gave Louise a standing ovation on two occasions, and did a lot of other supportive clapping besides. It was a great feeling to be able to show our appreciation, and to be amongst others who felt as angry and as determined to achieve change as I am. Rape, violence, injustice and abuses of authority all tend to isolate a woman and make her feel alone. Attending Louise's talk was a collective activity that underlined to me how shared this experience has actually been; the public playing out of the search for justice begun by journalist Phil Kitchin, carried on by Louise Nicholas, and picked up by many other women who have raised their complaints, laid their charges, marched and written and rung talkback to exhibit for all to see our outrage and to hear our call for change.

Louise Nicholas is obviously a key figure in what has happened in our country in the last few years. Her strength and perseverance has been an inspiration. I once heard someone compare Louise to the pivotal patient in the "unfortunate experiment" at National Women's, Ruth. I admit I don't know much about that situation, but I can see that Louise, like Ruth, lit a flame that has burned brightly and widely, and which I sincerely hope nothing can now extinguish. It is a fire that should change our rape laws, change our police culture, hopefully even change our culture around sex itself. It is an inferno that is stoked by many women now, in particular the two anonymous complainants who have also raised rape charges against ex-policemen, one with success, one sadly without.

Shipton and Schollum are branded rapist by our legal system, Rickards joins them in the court of public opinion, and Dewar is considered by most to be their accomplice. But in many ways this is the least of what Louise Nicholas, and the other women involved in these cases, have achieved. Louise has inspired many, women and men, to be clear and public in their denounciations of rape and of abuse. While the trial Louise has faced may have traumatised many rape victims, and discouraged others from coming forward, particularly as the hubris of Shipton, Schollum, Rickards and Dewar continue, to keep silent would have been worse. To keep silent would have continued the culture of ignorance, and allowed many New Zealanders to continue the delusion that rape is something that happens Elsewhere, not in my neighbourhood. Silence would have denied the experiences of so many women, who know their rapists and often still encounter them in their everyday lives. By challenging this acceptance of rape Louise has tapped the righteous anger that was there all the time, and given it a forum for expression.

She has also created a discussion about our rape laws and the change that needs to happen to deliver justice. It is outrageous that in this country it seems to be nearly impossible to convict anyone of rape, in particular those who are arrogant in their denials and quite ready to abuse their positions of authority to avoid scrutiny. There is no one in court to advocate for the victim of rape, and the protection the prosecutor can offer is limited, especially when the law itself is against the objections they raise.


Louise talked about how the prosecution team did raise numerous objections to the way that she was cross-examined by the defence, in particular the scrutiny of her sexual history which belies the fiction that "rape shield" laws are working in New Zealand. The judge simply overruled these objections and allowed the defence strategy to continue. Nevermind that the judge would have been aware, as was almost everyone else in that courtroom (except the jury), that Shipton and Schollum were already in prison for a remarkably similar rape. Nevermind the awareness in the legal community of the charges Dewar would face of obstructing the investigation into Louise's complaints in the mid 1990s. His subsequent condemnation and sentencing bring a bitter smile to many women and men, but it is not enough.

It appears that Shipton, Schollum and Rickards genuinely cannot understand that many New Zealanders consider that what they did was rape. There is something fundamentally wrong with the moral compass of a person who sees no potential conflict, no possibility for abuse, in using their position as a police officer to get sex. As members of the police force you would think they would have been particularly aware of issues around consent, and that when consent is dubious the likelihood of rape is increased.

The impression I've formed is that they simply didn't care. And that lack of caring is at the core of the injustice that is rape. Sex without consent is sex without caring, sex without seeing the other person as a human being; sex without consent is rape.

Louise has become an eye around which the whirling maelstrom of all these discussions has turned in recent years. I thank her for all that she is doing, all that she continues to do, for justice in our country.