In the wake of highly publicised cases of sexual violence, narratives that call the perpetrators ‘monsters’ or ‘animals’ abound. The dehumanisation of rapists by the public, media, politicians, police, and even the courts isn’t a new phenomenon. What makes someone a rapist is a natural question to arise in the discourse surrounding sexual violence. However, social and institutional understanding of sexual violence often misses the mark by placing the blame squarely on psychological deviance.
The idea that rapists are psychologically deviant and born with traits such as a propensity for violence and sadism and a lack of self-control that make them likely perpetrators of sexual violence has found widespread acceptance.
The idea that rapists are psychologically deviant and born with traits such as a propensity for violence and sadism and a lack of self-control that make them likely perpetrators of sexual violence has found widespread acceptance. But this narrative has little by way of evidence to support it. Rather than being a fact, it is a smokescreen that we, as a society, use to distance ourselves from the reality that rapists are a product of our patriarchal and misogynistic world, where sexual violence is normalised, minimised, and can be committed with impunity.
Media and public discourse following the January 2025 verdict in the R G Kar rape and murder case were no different either. Sanjay Roy, the accused in the case, was repeatedly referred to as a monster and animal by members of the public, by the media in their coverage, and by politicians in their reactions to Roy’s life sentence. Being par for the course in such sensationalised cases of sexual violence, such casual dehumanisation of perpetrators hardly evokes any sort of reflection. And while this may seem to be justified, and ultimately benign, anger directed at a rapist and murderer, in reality, the ramifications of dehumanising rapists are multi-fold and damaging.
The idea that rapists are inhuman or deviants who are markedly different from regular people is detrimental to addressing sexual violence because it grossly mischaracterises its nature and the socio-institutional forces that facilitate it. And rather than being symptomatic of reasonable public anger, the ‘monster’ narrative is a result of society and institutions being incentivised to mischaracterise sexual violence to rid themselves of culpability.
Shedding socio-institutional accountability
Rapists are routinely pathologised and deemed to be psychopaths and sociopaths. Viewing sexual violence through this lens of mental illness then confines it to be an issue exclusively rooted in psychology and limited to the individual. Not only does this grossly mischaracterise the nature of sexual violence, but such mischaracterisation also makes addressing it impossible by neglecting how patriarchal frameworks and misogyny foster an environment where sexual violence is committed with impunity.
Speaking to FII, Nitya Sethi, a Hyderabad-based psychologist whose work often focuses on the complex interplay of individual experiences and broader societal factors said, ‘The idea that psychological deviance is the sole cause of sexual violence is a vast oversimplification. While some individuals who commit such acts may have underlying psychological conditions, it’s crucial to understand that not all, and likely not even most, do. Attributing it solely to individual pathology ignores the broader social and cultural factors at play. It’s far too simplistic to say all rapists are ‘born’ with a mental illness predisposing them to such crimes. Sexual violence is a complex issue with multiple contributing factors.‘
This is not to suggest that perpetrators of sexual violence often do not suffer from mental health issues. Some rapists might meet the diagnostic criteria for one or more mental illnesses or may even have a diagnosis, but establishing a causal relationship between mental illness and propensity for crime is erroneous. Further, while rapists are commonly assumed to suffer from antisocial personality disorder (ASPD) – pejoratively referred to as psychopathy or sociopathy in common parlance –existing data doesn’t support this. ASPD has a lifetime incidence rate of only 2 to 3 per cent, while rates of sexual violence are remarkably higher.
Some rapists might meet the diagnostic criteria for one or more mental illnesses or may even have a diagnosis, but establishing a causal relationship between mental illness and propensity for crime is erroneous.
Concurring with this, Nitya Sethi adds, ‘The low prevalence of ASPD compared to the high rates of sexual violence strongly suggests that the latter is primarily a socio-cultural issue. While ASPD might be a factor in some cases, it cannot explain the vast majority of sexual violence incidents. The data points towards socialisation and cultural norms as the dominant forces, rather than individual psychological deviance.’
While there is limited research (here and here) regarding the occurrence of ASPD among convicted rapists, available data suggests there might be a preponderance of ASPD among incarcerated sexual offenders, though estimates of its incidence rates vary greatly. These findings must also be understood in the context of the socio-legal realities of the countries where these studies were conducted. It’s essential to take into account the fact that rape convictions, along with rates of reporting, are notoriously low and some forms of sexual violence like marital rape aren’t legally recognised in many countries; thus, of all rapists, only a small portion are ever convicted and imprisoned.
Rather than attempting to understand sexual violence through the misleading lens of psychological deviance or mental illnesses that increase the proclivity for sexual crimes, sexual violence can better be understood through commonly held socio-cultural attitudes towards women. While societies and institutions dehumanise rapists to avoid confronting their culpability in enforcing and upholding rape culture and normalising sexual violence, they simultaneously dehumanise women, viewing them through a misogynistic lens as devoid of agency or autonomy and as objects of patriarchal control for men.
However, none of this is to suggest that rapists hold no personal accountability or are in any way ‘victims’ of socialisation without any agency. But while they assuredly aren’t victims, they are indeed products of such socialisation. A lot of the attitudes that rapists hold towards women aren’t fringe or extreme, they are commonly held views that find patriarchal sanction. The 2012 Nirbhaya case is perhaps the best illustration of this. In the aftermath of the incident, many questioned why the victim was outside so late and why she was with a male friend. But when one of the accused in the case expressed similar sentiments to a BBC interviewer and claimed that the victim was as responsible as the rapists for the crime, there was tremendous public outrage.
The misogyny and dehumanising attitudes towards women that rapists display are positioned as extreme, even though it’s often in close alignment with how society views women. Alma Kunjumon, a counsellor who works with children and adolescents told FII, ‘When boys learn from their surroundings that masculinity means dominance and women are less valuable or objects of entitlement, it can create a foundation for harmful behaviours later in life, including sexual violence. If a boy grows up watching his father speak disrespectfully to his mother or make decisions for her without her input, he may learn to view women as subordinate. And if this behaviour is then reinforced by other influences, like the media or peer groups, he might come to believe that controlling or disrespecting women is acceptable.’
But when one of the accused in the case expressed similar sentiments to a BBC interviewer and claimed that the victim was as responsible as the rapists for the crime, there was tremendous public outrage.
She further added, ‘This mindset can later manifest in harmful behaviours that can, in some cases, be a precursor to sexual violence, because the boy has internalised the idea that women are there to serve or be dominated, rather than being equal partners deserving of respect and autonomy. These attitudes often develop, not because of mental illness, but because of societal norms. When boys show extreme disrespect or dehumanisation toward women at a young age, it can be an early warning sign of future issues. Addressing these beliefs early is crucial to prevent them from escalating into more serious behaviours or violence towards women.’
Who the ‘monster’ narrative benefits
Explaining why we seem so taken by the ‘monster’ myth and hold onto it even in the face of an abundance of data that refutes this narrative, Nitya suggests, ‘The tendency to pathologise rape and label perpetrators as ‘monsters’ serves several purposes. It creates a convenient distance between ‘us’ and ‘them’, absolving society of its role in perpetuating the conditions that allow sexual violence to flourish. It also allows us to believe that such acts are rare occurrences committed by a few ‘sick’ individuals, rather than acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that they are often perpetrated by seemingly ‘normal’ men within our communities. This simplifies a complex issue and avoids addressing the systemic problems that need to be confronted.‘
By positioning rape as a rare act committed by a handful of monsters, we ignore how utterly quotidian it is. The image of a ‘monster’ allows for everyday sexual violence that is not sensational enough to garner extensive news coverage or ignite discourse to be relegated to the shadows and summarily dismissed. Society and institutions easily minimise sexual assault when the victim hasn’t been killed or the assault wasn’t extraordinarily grotesque.
While there is palpable public anger every few years when an instance of sexual violence garners massive public and media interest, that’s rarely the case for most sexual crimes. Instances of sexual violence that have captured the country’s attention in the past few years such as 2012’s Nirbhaya case, 2019’s Disha case, and now the R G Kar case, have all resulted in the victim’s death. But in cases of sexual violence where sensational details don’t exist, the monster narrative falls flat, and therefore, so does socio-institutional investment in these cases.
The monster myth also strengthens familial control over women and lays fertile ground for victim-blaming. If psychological deviance leads to sexual violence, then rapists aren’t made but born, and there is essentially no way to stop such violence. Then the onus of preventing sexual violence falls on women. Thus, in the absence of anything concrete that can be done at the social and institutional level to prevent sexual violence, patriarchal control must be exerted on women for their ‘protection’.
Pathologising rape also benefits rapists, especially those who don’t fit the mould of a monster or psychopath; often spouses who commit rape or men with considerable socio-economic privilege and cultural capital. When institutional understanding of sexual violence is premised on the monster myth, some forms of sexual violence such as marital rape become impossible to criminalise. Men who rape their wives don’t fit the popular idea of a psychopath or a monster. Women are also routinely disbelieved and attacked when they speak about the sexual violence they have faced at the hands of powerful or famous men because these men often have an impeccably crafted public image, which they leverage to rubbish the accusation against them.
If only ‘monsters’ commit sexual violence, then surely men who have a reputation for being nice, cannot be rapists.
If only ‘monsters’ commit sexual violence, then surely men who have a reputation for being nice, cannot be rapists. And for famous men, deliberately crafting such a meticulous public image, even taking it so far as to position themselves as feminists and champions of women’s rights, allows them to commit abuses against women with impunity.
Hollywood film executive and serial sex offender, Harvey Weinstein, called himself a pioneer in producing films about women and platforming female directors and his public image preceding the allegations fit the bill of someone who champions women and their work. And this isn’t a phenomenon limited to Weinstein; there is a laundry list of famous men who have gotten away with sexual violence due to their ability to garner public support.
Additionally, the monster myth is rife with class, caste, and racial considerations, wherein a certain class of people holding a bulk of socio-cultural power will always be excluded from the caricature of a monster and their victims will be disbelieved and silenced because their rapists don’t fit the caricaturised idea of a rapist that we have drawn up. Apple TV’s The Morning Show creator, Kerry Ehrin, speaking of her decision to portray a serial sexual offender as charming, affable, and harmless at first glance said, ‘I wanted men to watch the show and recognise themselves. And if you see a guy who is just a monster, you’re like, “Oh, I’m not that guy.”‘
The mischaracterisation of the nature and causes of sexual violence and the dehumanisation of rapists allows us to limit sexual violence to being an individual failure instead of the societal and institutional failure that it is. On the one hand, we condemn sexual violence following a highly publicised instance of rape and demand the ‘monster’ involved get the death penalty, while we simultaneously continue to uphold patriarchal frameworks and perpetrate misogyny that allows for such violence to take place with impunity.
While the public and media turn their attention towards sexual violence once every few years, women in this country, and across the globe, face sexual violence or the prospect of it every single day. But acknowledging that sexual violence is pervasive and addressing it in effective and meaningful ways requires admitting that rapists and perpetrators of all forms of sexual violence aren’t ‘monsters’ but are ordinary people. In the French press, Gisèle Pelicot’s rapists were called Monsieur Tout-le-monde – the everyman, because these men, like most rapists, were regular people. The most chilling aspect of sexual violence, even more than the deliberate, callous, and extraordinary violence of it, is its utter ordinariness.
About the author(s)
Akshita Prasad is a 21-year-old who intends to pursue a career in criminal law. She is currently pursuing an undergraduate degree in Social Sciences. She has been identifying as a feminist since the age of thirteen and has been writing about it since; she also writes about law, politics, pop culture, and the LGBTQIA+ community. If not writing or reading, she's scouring Netflix for a new TV show to watch or is on her millionth re-run.
