Althea supports DrAsha Achy Joseph’s efforts to oppose the shielding of powerful men so that they may get away with the most egregious sexual violence and harassment.
However, we are wary of the implications of ‘zero tolerance’, given its ambiguous global history. Zero tolerance is not the same as “ending gender-based violence.” It can very quickly devolve into a superficial checkbox for institutions that sounds good on paper and in theory.
While committees may be formed and “zero tolerance” codes of conduct may be written, very often, in practice, such policies are seen to be inconsistently applied in the pursuit of justice for the aggrieved. “Zero tolerance” risks becoming symptomatic relief that does not address gender-based violence at its root cause. It might even deteriorate into a system by which men of marginalized communities or who are perceived to be enemies by the ruling dispensation are targeted.
For instance, in the US, where the term originated, during US president Reagan’s time in the 1980s, the “zero tolerance war on drugs” approach to drug possession or drug use was a straight from school to prison pipeline for African American boys and youth, some as young as 10, who were sent away to prison for 60 plus years for having less than an ounce of weed in their book bag. While black communities were terrorized by the police under the “zero tolerance” mandate, affluent white people got all the drugs they wanted anytime anywhere without any challenge to them at all. Very often “zero tolerance” approaches also risk becoming “zero context” and “zero discretion” approaches. That is why in the US, for instance, zero tolerance has made way for Restorative Justice and Community Empowered Mobilization for broader crime prevention.
Gender-based violence is patriarchal violence. It is not merely a series of individual moral failures.
It is structural, deeply embedded in social, political, caste, and economic hierarchies. In Kerala, the sexual justice system itself has at times been perceived as selectively mobilized — shielding the powerful while targeting political adversaries. We have seen how things played out in the aftermath of the release of the Hema Committee Report. When law becomes an instrument of convenience rather than justice, it weakens both democracy and feminist struggle.
This is why defining what we mean by “zero tolerance” is essential.
If it means:
Zero protection for powerful perpetrators,
Zero institutional cover-ups,
Zero retaliation against complainants,
Zero procedural opacity,
Zero caste and class bias in enforcement,
— then it is a principled demand.
But if it becomes:
Instant punitive spectacle,
Media trials without due process,
Selective prosecution,
Expansion of unchecked state power,
— then it risks reinforcing the very super-patriarchal state feminists have long critiqued.
In the Kerala context, it has been Althea’s consistent position that the sexual justice system in Kerala has been used to shield powerful people and target the perceived enemies of the present government or their political opponents, in ways that strip the accused of their basic human rights even. This strategy has served women and the cause of justice itself very poorly — it not only affects less-powerful men disproportionately, it also feeds the heedless anger of men’s rights discourses.
Therefore, if we embark on a ‘zero tolerance’ campaign as feminists, we must be responsible, and work further to define what we mean by ‘zero tolerance.’ We must reflect closely on how exactly we may achieve it through the institutions of the state and civil society. This responsible stance is non-negotiable, precisely because the state is the super-patriarchy and we must be mindful about how it can be used, and how it may behave.
Taking such a risk calls for responsibility, especially at a time when men like the US president Donald Trump boasts about his sexual violations with impunity, or a paedophile such as Jeffrey Epstein rapes hundreds of underage girls and trafficks them to so-called powerful men all over the world, including prime ministers and prince regents, and forces of majoritarianism use rape and sexual harassment with impunity to repress women. Our effort to draft some guidelines to regulate the appointment of trainers and the training programmes for extra-curricular activities in Kerala schools is offered in this spirit of countering patriarchy at its root through education, through careful community monitoring and stewardship of children and other vulnerable groups in a campaign of protective and preventative care. A hashtag campaign (or even just a campaign that does not specify clearly its distance from power) is not only the easiest thing to do for those of us with privilege, it is also the least responsible response.
Therefore, we urge the initiators of the ‘zero tolerance’ campaign to both define the kind of zero tolerance that we will need, and also to reflect publicly on ways it may be achieved without the violation of democracy and the intensification of brahmanical patriarchy. The situation around the world is bleak. We really need to ask ourselves difficult questions to keep the feminist moral compass active to protect ourselves and democracy itself.
For instance, that brave woman in France, Gisele Pelicot who was drugged by her husband and then given to over 50 men to rape so he could get his kicks watch strange men rape his wife of more than 50 years—how would a ‘zero tolerance’ campaign help the survivor of a heinous crime like that? And yet, every single woman and girl who has been raped shares the very same body as that of Gisele Pelicot. We have to learn to give up our privilege and empathize with the female body wherever it is and protect it from this kind of terror. But the Gisele Pelicot event forces us to confront a deeper truth: patriarchal violence thrives not only because of legal gaps, but because of entitlement, complicity, silence, and normalization. While strict and just punishment to the perpetrators of that crime was necessary, neither such punishment nor any slogan-based campaign, however forceful, can replace the in the on the ground engagement with state and society necessary for structural transformation.
Zero tolerance has to be something defined in local contexts by feminists who are mindful of the state’s growing fascist tendencies; the protection and safety of girls and women must be continuous feminist labor. Especially in contexts where the state shows authoritarian or majoritarian tendencies, expanding punitive power without safeguards is a risk that must be carefully interrogated.
Therefore we hope that the Zero Tolerance manifesto to be released soon defines zero tolerance within the actual context of extreme bias in the work of the sexual justice system in Kerala a well as the shrinking democratic space in both national and regional contexts. We also hope that it offers clear pointers to the government about how it may be achieved in different spaces without compromising democracy, without deepening brahminical patriarchy.
Strong endorsement, then, means endorsing both the uncompromising opposition to sexual violence and institutional shielding, and the equally uncompromising demand that our methods remain democratic, accountable, and structurally aware. A feminism that protects democracy protects women. A feminism that strengthens unchecked power ultimately endangers both.
Althea’s call to define, contextualize, and ethically anchor ‘zero tolerance’ is not moderation, it is a call to take responsibility for democracy along with our fight for justice.