Introduction
When I was researching my family history for my recent book Genealogy, Psychology and Identity (Nicolson, 2016), I discovered that my paternal grandmother, Elizabeth, separated from her husband, Cuthbert Clark, before meeting my grandfather. No-one had ever told me about this and neither had I ever been aware of any family secrets. The young couple had only been married for a year. They had married when he was 22 and she 19. They were both theatre people. He was a composer of some note and she an actress and dancer, but the records show that she left him because of his cruelty and violence. As far as I know there were no consequences for Clark. He went on to marry later and have children. My grandmother met my grandfather and they were together until he died. She must have been an amazing woman to have left her abuser in the nineteenth century.
Histories of family life and genderāpower relations have revealed that physical and mental cruelty to women and children were typically taken for granted as part of ānormalā family relations for centuries (Gordon, 1988). Domestic violence and abuse, now understood more broadly as intimate partner violence and abuse (IPVA), generally takes place away from the public gaze, making it easy to ignore, diminish and/or deny (Zink et al., 2004; Heise, Pitanguy & Germain, 1994; Jecker, 1993; Berns, 2017). Therefore, even in sophisticated western democratic societies, recognition that violent behaviour in the private sphere ācountsā along with publicly committed violence and coercive control is a relatively new concept.
The latter part of the twentieth into the twenty-first century saw significant changes (McCauley et al., 1995; Gottman & Notarius, 2002) so that now, in law and in general, violence, abuse and cruelty, both in the home and towards an intimate partner in public, are without doubt as unacceptable as they are when similar acts occur to strangers in a public place (Pearshouse, 2008; Rƶmkens, 2006). It is only during the past 25 to 30 years, though, that domestic violence and abuse have reached the top of the public criminal (Sacco, 2015), health (Breiding, 2015; Salmon, Baird & White, 2015), legal, social care (Rogers & Parkinson, 2018) and academic agendas, with research evidence now providing the core of practitioner training and guidelines for good practice (Sleath, Walker & Tramontano, 2017).
A burgeoning combination of campaigning (Robinson, 2017), advocacy (Teresi et al., 2016; Hague & Mullender, 2006) and research on domestic violence and abuse across the world (Bostock, Plumpton & Pratt, 2009; Walker, 2015) has been successful in placing concern over domestic abuse and violence high on the political and public agendas (Wuest & Merritt-Gray, 2001). This work has had a direct and irrevocable influence on clinical, health and social care practice (Berns, 2017; Crabtree-Nelson, Grossman & Lundy, 2016; Robinson, 2017), justice (Sullivan, Price, Bellucci & Hill, 2017), resource allocation and policy (Breckenridge & Mulroney, 2007). It has also made an impact on attitudes (Worden & Carlson, 2005; Gracia, 2014).
Thus, it may still be true to say that:
How does one manage the dilemma of being both pro-feminist advocating for womenās safety, and respecting the women who say they wish to remain with their partners and be supported to do so (Laidler & Mann, 2008)? Inevitably ideological disparities have emerged between some academics and womenās advocates (see, e.g., Kirkwood, 1993; Mullender & Morley, 2001; Loseke, Gelles & Cavanaugh, 2005; Hester, Jones, Williamson, Fahmy & Feder, 2017).
Questions about the nature and extent of womenās violence to men, violence within LGBTQ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transexual and Queer) relationships, whether growing up with domestic violence influences adult behaviour of men and/or women, the impact of patriarchy and misogyny, and genderāpower relations have not been resolved (Bowen, 2018; Badenes-Ribera, Bonilla-Campos, Frias-Navarro, Pons-Salvador & Monterde-i-Bort, 2016; Renzetti & Miley, 2014).
Navigating this intricate area, pitting psychology up against sociology, feminism against traditional psychology, qualitative versus quantitative research, in order to make a contribution to the security of womenās lives, continue to pose a major challenge.
In the following I examine some of the social, cultural and historical connections between all the key players as they impact upon naming, defining, identifying and understanding the scope and impact of what is most commonly referred to as domestic violence and/or domestic abuse and now IPVA. I then outline the possibilities provided by a material-discursive intrapsychic theoretical approach.
Describing IPVA
There has been an evolution in the way IPVA has been described and defined over the years. Wife battering (Appleton, 1980) progressed to be known domestic violence (Berrios & Grady, 1991), followed by the term domestic abuse in recognition that violence does not only take a physical form. Abuse provided the opportunity to include control, economic abuse, humiliation and isolation of the partner. Family violence (Knudsen, 2017) often used in the USA to include domestic abuse was identified as too broad to describe the abuse of an intimate partner. More recently, intimate partner violence became an even more wide-ranging term, followed now by IPVA as an even more inclusive term (Jewkes, 2002), bringing in the concept of coercive control (Hardesty et al., 2015; Bettinson & Bishop, 2015).
An updated (2018) British Home Office report1 and guidance on domestic violence and abuse provides what it calls a new definition that is:
ā¢psychological
ā¢physical
ā¢sexual
ā¢financial
ā¢emotional
Controlling behaviour
Coercive behaviour
It still remains hard for victims/survivors to explain what it feels like to live with IPVA. Womenās experiences of life prior to an abusive relationship vary to such an extent that there is no global template or clearly defined line that is crossed for some of them between violence and non-violence (Ehrensaft, Knous-Westfall & Cohen, 2017). Expectations depend on early experiences of family life (Abramsky, Watts, GarcĆa-Moreno, Devries, Kiss, Ellsberg, Jansen & Heise, 2011), as well as cultural context. Social norms vary between countries, communities and social groups (see Chapter 2) and sometimes even violence itself has different levels of meaning (McFarlane, Groff, OāBrien & Watson, 2006). Consequently, giving an experience meaning in any relationship requires pre-existing repertoires to enable individuals to name their experience. Linda Green (2010) talking about the experience of living with violent civil conflicts across the world makes the point:
This could equally be true of IPVA. This āsocializationā and āfamiliarityā sometimes make it difficult for some women to see themselves as victim/survivors until sometime after it has happened and often they donāt recognize the full extent of the abuse until they are free from the perpetrator (Muehlenhard & Kimes, 1999). They may at the time experience the upsetting events simply as individual incidents which donāt necessarily paint the picture of themselves living in a violent relationship (Berns, 2017; Childress, 2018). It is possible to get used to someoneās bad and abusive behaviour so you see it as just āthe way they areā. Connie2 was typical in that:
Most women, across many studies reported difficulty naming what was happening to them as abuse or domestic violence (Ferraro & Johnson, 1983; Hague & Mullender, 2005). As Lara reported:
In fact, Lara had been beaten up and thrown against a wall on the several occasions that her ex-husband had been out drinking. Somehow, though, it took a shift in her sense of herself to understand that she was experiencing IPVA. The psychological aspects of victimhood in this horrendous context make it hard for someone to be objective and reflect upon their own situation. The awareness that you are living with an abuser (rather than someone who behaves in certain ways) often creeps slowly into consciousness, by which time it is too late to simply leave. And then there is a sense of shame that this happened and possibly self-retribution for not having recognized IPVA.
Marilyn had had two abusive partners. Recognition of what was happening (particularly with the second man) left her with āShame. I think thatās the big oneā. But for her there was also the āwake-up callā and then the:
Marilynās previous experience of living with a violent man had made recognition that she was living with one once again even more frightening as she knew she had to name the experience but that would also compel her to act, particularly on behalf of her children. Then somehow she anticipated that flood gates would open and take away her control (see also Chapter 8).
Experiencing violence
Descriptions of incidents that women in the DASH study introduced into the interviews show the variety of abuse and violence that the men perpetrated and differences in how they dealt with it. Some women had always known their partners could act in violent ways, while others had never expected to witness or experience IPVA. Two women participants exemplify this.
Sandra, who was 22 when she was interviewed, described seeing her ex-partner of five years before they began living together ātry and poke peopleās eyes out and bite peopleās noses off in fightsā, so she was convinced his threats were authentic when:
She did manage to leave him after he was imprisoned for assaulting someone else but was persuaded back to him after his release. Following their reconciliation, they went to another city to visit his mother but as they were driving back home (they were both drunk) he stopped the car and:
Sandraās description and reflection on how she coped not only demonstrated violent and abusive behaviour on the part of her partner, but also hinted at how she was looking for some evidence, however small, that he cared for her. She initially thought he had stopped his sexual advance, which was the evidence she sought. But that he later continued to rape her while she cried and resisted remained crucial to her own narrative and possibly how she eventually identified his abuse and violence. Her story also brings to the fore the ārelationalā side of IPVA, whereby the survivor had expectations of how she and her partner should live with each other (Allison, Bartholomew, Mayseless & Dutton, 2008).
Mary, a woman in her late 50s from a middle-class professional background, had a different, but equally harrowing, story to tell. Geoff, her husband of nearly 30 years by the time of the incident, frequently yelled and swore at her. On one occasion they were shopping and she dropped a bottle of wine as she was putting it in the supermarket trolley and it broke. āHe just stood there and yelled āyou silly fucking bitchā. You name it and it came out in this torrent.ā She was used to his abusive lang...