Huis clos

Public glare on rape trial in France ... Survivor demands the proceedings be open ... The spectacle of misery ... Unsettling details ... Traumatising complainants ... The case of Gisèle Pelicot ... Hugh Vuillier reports 

Gisèle Pelicot outside the Avignon courthouse 

The Pelicot trial is, in every sense, a public event. It involves shocking allegations of abuse, carried out by seemingly ordinary men and orchestrated by a husband against his wife, who he had repeatedly drugged. 

Fifty-one men stand accused of raping Gisèle Pelicot over ten years in a small French town.

The case is brutal, and the world watches. And it would not have been possible unless Gisèle Pelicot insisted that the trial be public.

So far, it seems to stand in contrast to another case in Australia: that of Brittany Higgins, whose own pursuit of justice has been distressing. 

Pelicot wanted the world to know. Higgins did too, but the cost was high. It's a reminder that public trials are as important as they are damaging.

The trial in Vaucluse, France, started on September 2, 2024. All attention seemed fixed upon whether the proceedings would be open. From the outset, the case had been designated for a closed hearing - huis clos - in an effort to protect the victim's privacy. 

Yet Gisèle Pelicot opposed the decision, arguing that the trial be public.

The presiding judge, empowered by Article 306 of the Code de Procédure Pénale, held the authority to make this decision. Public hearings were the standard, the law decreed, "unless public access poses a danger to public order or morality". 

This phrase seemed to echo in the courtroom as the defence attorney, Master Olivier Lantelme, rose to argue for the huis clos, invoking discretion and restraint.

"Justice is not served by any spectacle, and certainly not by the spectacle of misery."

From Pelicot's side, Master Stéphane Babonneau leaned forward. 

"My client believes that justice is served in public. She has nothing to hide."

Aware of the sensitivity of the case, Babonneau added: 

"We know that this trial will reveal deeply intrusive, unsettling details. But she has had years to prepare herself, and she will not be an obstacle to a public trial."

Before 1980, all rape trials in France were closed. But an amendment gave victims and survivors the right to request a closed trial if they so wished.

After the arguments were laid bare, the judge called a recess and afterwards announced the trial would be public.

Transparency brings accountability - it shows wrongdoing to the public, ensures that what is hidden is condemned. Pelicot wanted this exposure. 

There's also the risk that the trial itself becomes another ordeal. Her trial is expected to end by December 20, but her grief will continue as public property. 

In Australia Brittany Higgins ordeal was caught by a media storm well before the trial, which rendered the criminal proceedings especially difficult. 

It was Higgins' personal decision to contact the media before the trial. She was not ashamed, yet the ensuing scrutiny and invasion, which has still not concluded, came at a high emotional and physical cost. 

On the first day of the Pelicot trial, her lawyer stated: "My client wishes that what she has lived is seen." 

The world will see. Yet, as Brittany Higgins' story shows, when victims choose visibility, they also inherit sensationalism and misinformation. There is a cost to being seen, and sometimes that cost is too high. 

Hugh Vuillier writes on economics, politics, law and history and is based at the London School of Economics