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The mark of refusal
Sexual violence and the politics of
recontextualization
Feminist Theory
Copyright © 2004
SAGE Publications
(London,
Thousand Oaks, CA
and New Delhi)
vol. 5(3): 243–256.
1464–7001
DOI: 10.1177/1464700104046975
www.sagepublications.com
Nina Philadelphoff-Puren Monash University
Abstract What consequences do poststructuralist theories of language
have for feminist strategies addressing rape? In particular, what might be
the fate of attempts to secure the meanings of certain words uttered by
women in this context, such as ‘no’? Can we bracket off such statements
from the agon of the juridico-linguistic domain in a manner that
short-circuits all contest? In contrast, if we agree that such contest is an
irrevocable component of the field in which feminist struggles take
place, does this mean we no longer need to attend to the destiny of
women’s refusal before the law? This article will consider these
questions in relation to the framing of refusal in a recent Australian
sexual assault trial. I will suggest that a poststructuralist feminist
strategy might turn to the political process of recontextualization that
attends such utterances, in order to contest the institutional rewriting of
rape as romance.
keywords rape, consent, poststructuralism, iterability, feminist theory,
language
What consequences do poststructuralist theories of language have for
feminist strategies that address rape? In particular, what might be the fate
of attempts to secure the meanings of certain words uttered by women in
this context, such as ‘no’? Is it possible to bracket off such speech acts from
the agon of the juridico-linguistic domain in a way that enables ‘no’ to
indeed mean ‘no’ in a manner that short-circuits all contest? On the other
hand, if we agree that such contest is an irrevocable component of the field
in which feminist struggles against sexual violence take place, does this
mean that we no longer need to attend to the destiny of a woman’s refusal
when she comes before the law? This article will consider these questions
in relation to the framing of a woman’s refusal in a recent Australian sexual
assault trial. I will suggest that the attempt to enforce the meaning of non-
consent in advance of the contexts in which it might appear is a kind of
necessary impossibility, a move which cannot eradicate the chance that
such meanings might go astray. But rather than simply affirming this
ineliminable possibility from a poststructuralist perspective, feminist
strategy might return to the process of recontextualization that attends the
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Feminist Theory 5(3)
utterance of such refusal. In particular, the involution of ‘no’ with non-legal
structures (such as romance) alerts us to the fact that it is in the grafting of
one context to the next that we can identify a politics: one which produces
doubt about a woman’s testimony in the instance of rape.
The statement ‘no means no’ has been the fulcrum of anti-rape strategies
around the world. As a strap-line, it metonymizes a range of complex
feminist arguments about female autonomy in the context of heterosexual
sex. In particular, it rebuts an invidious and durable patriarchal proposi-
tion: the notion that women say ‘no’ when they mean ‘yes’ when it comes
to their desire. This argument relies for its force on a connection between
two supposedly distinct discourses: rape and romance. 1 While ostensibly
opposed to one another, these discourses join together in their staging of
refusal, with the ‘no’ of the allegedly coquettish woman indistinguishable
in certain institutional contexts from the ‘no’ of a woman resisting a sexual
assault. Historically, this has been particularly evident in the structure of
consent directions in rape law, in which a woman’s resistance could be
recoded as consent. 2 In this context, to insist that ‘no means no’ is to
contest a host of complex discursive assumptions about women, under-
taken at the level of language.
This strategy, however, has recently come under feminist scrutiny. From
the perspective of linguistics and conversation analysis, Celia Kitzinger
and Hannah Frith (1999) argue that requiring a woman to say ‘no’ to sex
actually contravenes the conventional ways that we perform refusal. Their
research shows that we rarely refuse an offer with a ‘no’, because to do so
transgresses established cultural codes of politeness. Instead, speakers in
a culture use a panoply of techniques when refusing, including delays,
palliatives and accounts (Kitzinger and Frith, 1999: 301). In this regard, it
is counter-productive for feminism (or the law) to require and encourage
women to say ‘no’, when this request actually contravenes accepted
cultural codes (p. 302). On this view, the phrase ‘no means no’ might
actually obscure and delegitimate the real work of refusal that women
actually perform in sexually violent situations.
This privileged feminist tactic has also been subject to critique from
another quarter. In an essay called ‘Sovereign Performatives’, Judith Butler
(1997) investigates the relationship between language and politics from a
poststructuralist perspective that takes account of the force of performa-
tivity. In particular, she considers the influential feminist critique that
provides the predicate for the proposition that ‘no must mean no’: Cather-
ine MacKinnon’s (1993) argument about the sexualized linguistic reversals
of pornography. For MacKinnon, pornography’s most pernicious effect is
its performative power to deprive the female subject of access to meaning-
ful consent, by interminably transforming that subject’s ‘no’ into a ‘yes’, at
the level of both narrative and image. But underlying such an argument is
a model of the subject, language and power that warrants investigation. As
Butler points out, MacKinnon’s argument relies on a discourse of sovereign
power, in which the subject is able to formulate an utterance and then make
it mean what it says, in a manner which draws a line of coherence between
intention, utterance and interpretation. In evaluating this view, Butler
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Philadelphoff-Puren: The mark of refusal
245
(1997: 86) agrees that ‘when “no” is taken as a “yes”, the capacity to make
use of the speech act is undermined’. But she goes on to ask: ‘. . . what
might guarantee a communicative situation in which no one’s speech
disables or silences another’s in this way?’ Here, we have illuminated a
relatively unremarked condition essential to the operation of ‘no means no’
– that is, its enforceability.
For Butler, this condition is dangerous, and potentially inaugurates a
frightening form of the linguistic field of politics. What police or power is
able to simultaneously recognize and enforce the efficacy of such a refusal,
and what form might it take in daily life? Indeed, this kind of enforceabil-
ity would imply that ‘we’ – an unspecified group with a totalizing
hermeneutic power – are able to legislate the interpretation of particular
statements, uttered by women. Such a desire – which Butler implies
inheres in the feminist proposition ‘no means no’ – is anathema to her
understanding of the operation of the democratic field, in which all utter-
ances are necessarily subject to the risk of going astray:
This risk and vulnerability are proper to democratic process in the sense that
one cannot know in advance the meaning that the other will assign to one’s utter-
ance, what conflict of interpretation may arise, and how best to adjudicate the
difference. The effort to come to terms is not one that can be resolved in antici-
pation but only through a concrete struggle of translation, one whose success has
no guarantees. (Butler, 1997: 87–8)
Here, the possibility that my statements (like ‘no’) might be the bearers of
ambiguous meaning, that they might ‘mean’ in ways that I cannot antici-
pate, is made congruent with the flourishing of democratic life. On this
model, the feminist attempt to legislate lines of continuity and enforce-
ability between, for example, my intention to refuse, my expression of that
refusal and its interpretation, is figured as an authoritarian and anti-
democratic desire for univocal as opposed to equivocal or ambiguous
meaning. As Butler asks:
Are we, whoever ‘we’ are, the kind of community in which such meanings could
be established once and for all? Is there not a permanent diversity within the
semantic field that constitutes an irreversible situation for political theorizing?
Who stands above the interpretive fray in a position to ‘assign’ the same utter-
ances the same meanings? And why is it that the threat posed by such an auth-
ority is less serious than the one posed by equivocal interpretation left
unconstrained? (Butler, 1997: 87)
What Butler stages here is an important contest between two theories of
language and meaning which has serious consequences for feminist
political strategy. Derrida’s (1988) discussion of the concept of iterability
underlies Butler’s arguments here about practices of interpretation and the
democratic field. For Derrida, iterability is the positive condition of possi-
bility for language use as such; it designates the capacity of every mark to
be repeated (reiterated) in new contexts not governed by the intentions of
the speaker or writer. As Derrida (1988: 12) remarks, ‘This citationality, this
iterability is neither an accident nor an anomaly. It is that without which
a mark could not even have a function called normal. What could a mark
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Feminist Theory 5(3)
be that could not be cited?’ The possibility for this (re)citation in new
contexts is precisely the matter of contest in Butler’s discussion of porno-
graphic speech. As she points out, the feminist argument that ‘no means
no’ relies on a model of language in which the meaning of an utterance is
governed by the intentions of a sovereign speaker. Moreover, that meaning
will persist self-identically, in spite of the articulation of this utterance in
new contexts. In this way, the utterance (representing the speaker’s inten-
tions) will determine and enforce its own interpretation. Such a view
conflicts with the Derridean insight that every utterance must necessarily
be able to break with its original context if it is to be an instance of language
at all: ‘Every sign . . . can be cited, put between quotation marks; in so
doing it can break with every given context, engendering an infinity of new
contexts which is absolutely illimitable’ (Derrida, 1988: 12). From this
perspective, there is no way in which the intentions (should they be recov-
erable) of the sovereign subject can govern the destiny of the utterance.
Insisting that they do is a moment of irredeemable moralism, 3 a moralism
that evinces a desire to avoid the democratic agon of political life (Butler,
1997: 95).
What are the consequences of this analysis for the problem of rape? Does
the concept of iterability mean that feminist strategies like ‘no means no’
must be abandoned as linguistically and politically impossible? From the
perspective of iterability, the possibility of a signifier like ‘no’ being taken
up in a way that conflicts with the speaker’s putative intentions is inelim-
inable and internal to the possibility of uttering a statement in the first
instance. As Butler (1997: 93) asks, ‘Is this political possibility of reappro-
priation distinguishable from pornographic reappropriation opposed by
MacKinnon? Or is the risk of appropriation one that accompanies all
performative acts, marking the limits of the putative sovereignty of such
acts?’ Such questions suggest that the possibility of transforming a
woman’s ‘no’ into a ‘yes’ is thus part of the general economy of iterability,
rather than a consequence of a particular form of politico-sexual organiz-
ation.
I want to suggest a number of responses here. First, if one takes the
concept of iterability seriously, then it follows that such a risk indeed
attends the production of every mark. But I think it is worth considering
the possibility that the general economy of iterability is nonetheless strat-
ified by specific modes of recontextualization, including those organized
along the axis of sexual difference. In the context of rape, ‘no’ is not just
any word, but rather one that concentrates a host of patriarchal forces.
Regarding acquaintance rape in particular, I would argue that a woman’s
articulation of refusal is not subject only to the general possibility of iter-
ability, or ‘a concrete struggle of translation’ (Butler, 1997: 88), a phrase
which implies an agon between subjects engaged in an ethical contest. On
the contrary, in a juridical context, instead of being defined by a struggle
between equivalently positioned subjects, the interpretative field is riven
by forms of domination. Here, the patriarchal claim that ‘no means yes’ is
not one interpretation among many, but rather a hegemonic one which
continues to be supported by some legal officers. 4
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Philadelphoff-Puren: The mark of refusal
247
In this context, while Derrida’s discussion of iterability might fatally
destabilize the traditional feminist treatment of the problem of refusal, it
might also provide the instruments for a new strategy. The process of iter-
ability – the positive possibility of repeating the mark – necessarily entails
the folding of the mark into new contexts. As he comments, ‘[t]his does not
imply that the mark is valid outside of a context, but on the contrary, that
there are only contexts without any center or absolute anchorage’ (Derrida,
1988: 12). In this respect, the repetition of the mark is necessarily subject
to ‘an incessant movement of recontextualisation’ (Derrida, 1988: 136). In
the context of rape and non-consent, it is at this point that I think a produc-
tive feminist intervention can be made, one which does not undertake the
impossible attempt of bracketing off the word ‘no’ from the politico-
linguistic field. No feminist strategy can eliminate the ineliminable
opening that inheres in each mark, each utterance. Indeed, as Butler points
out, this opening is the condition of the emergence of ‘politically conse-
quential re negotiations of language’ (Butler, 1997: 92, emphasis in original)
which we could hardly hope to discard.
What I want to suggest here, however, is that a non-moralistic feminist
inquiry might still work with this ineliminable opening and continue to
engage critically with the distinctly political fate of women’s sexual refusal
by investigating the process of recontextualization in the instance of rape.
Such a move requires attending to the ‘total speech situation’ (Austin,
1976: 52) in which such a refusal takes place. When women bring a claim
of rape before the law, such utterances of non-consent do not face an open
field of democratic contest, but rather a highly regularized and over-
determined one, since all such utterances take place in a context already
cross-hatched by power, genres and discourses. As Derrida (1988: 131)
comments, ‘The question is not whether a context is implied (it always is)
but which politics is implied in such a practice of contextualisation’. From
this perspective, it is worth investigating the politics of recontextualiza-
tion as it actually takes place, using the example of a recent Australian
acquaintance rape trial, R v. Hughes . 5 In particular, I will examine the fate
of the complainant’s non-consent and the techniques by which it is
vanquished. In this case, the necessary opening in the mark of refusal (its
equivocality) is subject to a trenchant institutional over-determination
which will be fatal to the complainant’s testimony.
R v. Hughes concerned a very violent sexual assault which took place in
Queensland, Australia. The defendant and the complainant were both
working on a horse ranch on Magnetic Island. The complainant was a 20-
year-old German back-packer. Over the course of ten days, they spent a lot
of time together, working, eating, giving each other massages and talking.
According to the defendant, their relationship was romantic. It was, he
said, ‘. . . a two way thing. We had become fairly interested in each other.
She started pursuing me a bit and I started pursuing her a bit. We enjoyed
each other’s company and wanted to spend as much time together as we
could’ (p. 290). In one exchange, after only four days, the defendant told
the complainant that he loved her, which she rejected by saying ‘I don’t
love you and I don’t want to do anything with you’ (p. 78). The
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