The fact that, contrary to common representations, all perpetrators are not male also has to be underscored. There is solid evidence that female soldiers and combatants have been taking part in the sexual torture of male (and female) prisoners (Sjoberg 2016), though the implication of women in the perpetration of this type of violence seems more common in armies than in armed groups. The implication of three US female military police officers in abuses committed in Abu Ghraib is, for instance, well documented (Sjoberg and Gentry 2007, 54–87), two of whom have later argued that they had no choice and that the blame should have been put on their hierarchy instead. Many other cases of female military involvement in sexual torture against male prisoners have been uncovered, for instance, in Israel (Weishut 2015, 75) and in Sri Lanka (Sooka 2014, 31; see also Human Rights Watch 2013).
There is less empirical evidence regarding the involvement in sexual violence against men of female combatants belonging to armed groups. In many armed groups, women seem more likely to adopt the “bystander” role, witnessing sexual violence but not directly participating. A few of the survivors I have spoken with have mentioned that female combatants had “participated in their torture” (Félicien 2010, interview), but such involvement seems to be the exception rather the rule. This is likely to be related to the fact that women are less numerous than men in armies and armed groups, and to their status in these groups: women are indeed often used in an auxiliary capacity and not as frontline combatants. Though some armed groups, like the LTTE in Sri Lanka, are or used to be more egalitarian than others, in most cases women are less likely to occupy positions of command. In patriarchal societies like the Congo, Rwanda or Burundi, for example, women help rebel groups to function not just because some of them fight alongside male combatants, but first and foremost because they provide services that men do not have the time or the will to ensure, like finding and cooking food, providing medical help, washing and tending clothes, etc. But instead of being valorized as providers of much-needed services while still playing their armed role at the frontline, female combatants are often despised for it. During an interview, a former leader in a Burundian armed group once described women enrolled in the rebellion as “sandugu” (Déo 2011, interview),[6] a Kirundi word for wooden boxes—in other words, (useful) items that are not meant to take any initiative and to move and act on their own. Given that women are likely to occupy subaltern positions in rebel groups, and to be denied any agency, it is not surprising that cases of sexual violence against men perpetrated by female combatants are comparatively rare.[7] Conversely, cases where female fighters are clearly expected to “prove themselves” as worthy combatants, to be “tougher” than men, can explain their involvement in the perpetration of torture and other atrocities, as shown by Coulter (2008) in the case of Sierra Leone. Looking at sexual violence against men thus highlights the weight of gender roles and expectations that female combatants have to deal with, and suggests that those who want to achieve some sort of equal status with their male colleagues have to enact the same militarized masculinity model, which might entail, in some settings, the perpetration of extreme forms of violence.
Thinking about conflict masculinities and about perpetrators of sexual violence notably requires reflecting on the effects that prolonged and protracted conflicts have on models of masculinity, and on the possibilities men (and sometimes also women) have to enact them. It is well known that conflicts are accompanied (and in turn shaped by) a sharp militarization of masculinities and of societies more generally, which often partly contradicts traditional masculine ideals. Coming up with a detailed and systematic mapping of this impact is an almost impossible task, though, because we are speaking here of extremely diverse situations in terms of conflict duration, intensity and actors. For instance, the impact of war escalation on models of masculinity will not be the same for “local” combatants as for soldiers in “intervention” armies such as the US Army in Iraq or Afghanistan, or for peacekeepers. What is more, as many authors have already highlighted, gender relations and models are constantly evolving and vary across local configurations. As explained by Barker and Ricardo in the case of sub-Saharan Africa, generalizing the impact of war means misrepresenting multiple, fluid and ever changing models of masculinity upon which violence, itself varied and changing, leaves its mark (2005, 4). What is clear, however, is that in concerned countries and regions, the prolongation of conflict and war over time induces a blurring of the pre-existing distinctions between military and civilian cultures, and that the omnipresence of armies and armed groups entails a diffusion of militarized values and models, if just because so many men and boys (and, in many cases, women and girls) are participating in warfare (Lwambo 2013).
We can nevertheless trace some common trends in how men in patriarchal societies are affected by conflict escalation and maintenance. These similarities derive from the core functions men are expected to perform at the family and community levels, and from the fact that all models of masculinity need to be constantly performed and reasserted. With the irruption of war, the structural and discursive conditions in which masculinity models usually unfold change, and this logically impacts men’s individual capacity to enact these models, and it affects power relations between groups of men embodying them too. Joining the army or an armed group frequently entails leaving one’s family behind and, therefore, abandoning at least part of one’s familial responsibilities as a breadwinner and as a protector, which constitute core aspects of hegemonic masculinity models in most countries around the world:
I had to abandon my family to fight. I am proud of my family, of my children, but it was tough being away from them, because I didn’t know what would happen to them, I couldn’t give them any money to buy food anymore. It was hard for them. One of my daughters died while I was away. But I had to do my duty and fight. (Serge 2010, interview)
For some of those who enroll in rebel groups, there might even be a stigma attached to the fact of not having a “respectable” job—especially when the armed group does not have a clear ideological or political profile. For those who choose not to fight, displacement, loss of livelihoods and of dwelling places, extreme poverty, violence exerted by armies, armed groups and rebel movements, dehumanizing practices sometimes echoing the worst memories of colonization, as well as the presence of peacekeeping forces, all render the enactment of traditional models of masculinity more complicated. And there is also a well-known stigma attached to men who refuse to fight for their country or their communal, religious or ethnic group, whose (heterosexual) masculinity becomes suspect (Price 2001, 222).
What is important to emphasize here, and what might contribute to understanding the specific stories that we will explore below, is that in the context of war, whether a man chooses to fight or not almost always entails a tension and even a contradiction with traditional masculine models that are valued in peaceful times. In societies that haven’t recently experienced war, values and behavior traditionally attached to hegemonic masculinity models are put under stress by the escalation of violence. War is accompanied by the emergence and/or the strengthening of alternative role models, which do not necessarily garner wide social and cultural support—that is, they do not become hegemonic in turn. For instance, combatants participating in displays of extreme violence are more likely to provoke repulsion than adherence among the civilian population. That is not to say that the figure of the soldier or of the combatant defending his or her home country is never a popular one, especially when wars start and end, but that it often stands in contrast with masculine models that had been valued up to then.
6
“We called them like this because they had to stay there without moving” (Déo 2011, interview).
7
According to the study conducted by Johnson et al. (2010) in Eastern DRC, 10% of perpetrators of wartime sexual violence against men are women.