On Tuesday, April 1, 2025 in France, the National Assembly adopted, by 161 votes to 56, the bill introduced by MPs Marie-Charlotte Garin (The Ecologists) and Véronique Riotton (Ensemble) explicitly incorporating non-consent into the legal definition of rape. The aim was to "provide judges with an additional tool" to better address sexual violence.
On June 18, the Senate unanimously adopted the text, adding further precision to the definition of consent: "free, informed, specific, prior, and revocable," which cannot be inferred from silence or inaction.
Faced with the number of sexual assaults, the judicial system is failing to keep up
The need to reform the judicial handling of sexual violence complaints is undeniable: 86% of cases are dismissed, a figure that rises to 94% in rape cases, most often on the grounds of “insufficiently established offense.” Moreover, only 6% of victims of physical sexual violence file a complaint, often discouraged by feelings of helplessness or fear of not being taken seriously.
Rape is defined in the French Penal Code as any act of sexual penetration committed through “violence, coercion, threat, or surprise.” In the absence of sufficient evidence to establish one of these four criteria, judicial proceedings become impossible, even if the judge is personally convinced of the perpetrator’s guilt.
“Non-consent” in the law: a solution to impunity
Currently, the legal definition of rape in France relies solely on four criteria: violence, coercion, threat, or surprise. This approach limits recognition of many situations in which consent is absent but cannot be legally considered.
Cases of dissociation, unconsciousness, or psychological control, for example, often fall outside the reach of criminal law due to the lack of proof of physical resistance or explicit refusal. Yet, a Swedish study (Möller, 2017) revealed that 70% of rape victims experience a state of emotional paralysis, unable to scream, escape, or even say “no.” By now incorporating the absence of consent into the definition of rape—and specifying that consent must be free, informed, specific, prior, and revocable—this reform, once enacted, could better reflect these realities.
The bill draws inspiration from international models, notably the Istanbul Convention, ratified by France in 2014, which states that consent must be “given voluntarily and as the result of the person’s free will.” Across Europe, 19 countries—including Germany, Belgium, Spain, and Sweden—have already integrated this principle into their penal codes, often in response to the impunity of aggressors in certain sexual violence cases.
In Sweden, a legislative reform followed the acquittal of three men accused of sexually assaulting a teenage girl—the judge ruling that the victim had participated in the act with implicit consent. This decision led to the creation of the FATTA movement (“Understand it”), which campaigned for the recognition that any sexual act without consent constitutes rape. Their efforts resulted in a new law adopted in 2018.
In 2022, Spain passed the “Solo sí es sí” (Only yes means yes) law in response to the notorious “La Manada” (the pack) case—a gang rape that occurred in 2016 during the San Fermín festival in Pamplona. Five men raped an 18-year-old woman, filmed the assault, and shared the videos on WhatsApp. Initially sentenced to nine years in prison for “sexual abuse” due to lack of proof of violence, their charges were reclassified as rape by the Supreme Court in 2019, increasing the sentence to 15 years. The case triggered massive feminist mobilization and led to a legislative reform redefining rape by placing explicit consent at its center and abolishing the distinction between sexual abuse and sexual assault.
In this climate of impunity for perpetrators, the explicit “non-consent” criterion is seen by many as an essential judicial tool—clarifying the legal framework beyond case law and making consent the central evidence in sexual violence cases.
A controversial reform: a double-edged notion of consent
The French Penal Code does not explicitly mention consent in its definition of rape, focusing instead on coercion—violence, constraint, threat, or surprise. However, as feminist legal scholar Catharine MacKinnon notes, this absence does not prevent consent from being used as a defense strategy by perpetrators, diverting attention from coercive acts.
In Rape Redefined (Flammarion, 2023), she criticizes this approach, arguing that emphasizing the victim’s “yes” or “no” in contexts of domination risks legitimizing imposed sexual relations. Integrating consent into the law could, she warns, reinforce a logic of accusing victims rather than questioning the actions of aggressors.
Laurence Rossignol, senator and former Minister for Women’s Rights, also takes a nuanced position. In the program Ça vous regarde (LCP–National Assembly) [1], she underlined the importance of clearly stating that the burden of proof of consent must rest with the aggressor—in other words, it is for him to demonstrate that he ensured the victim’s consent throughout the encounter, so that the victim does not have to prove her innocence.
When it comes to prostitution, the inclusion of “non-consent” in the definition of rape sparks intense debate. Feminists of the so-called “pro-sex” current defend sex work as a legitimate form of sexual and economic freedom, stressing the protection provided by legal recognition. Conversely, “abolitionist” feminists view prostitution as a systemic form of exploitation deeply rooted in social and gender inequalities.
According to the latter perspective, the consent of prostituted individuals cannot be considered free, as it is inevitably influenced by economic precarity, migration histories, human trafficking for sexual exploitation, power imbalances, and structural discrimination[2]. Andrea Dworkin, an emblematic figure of this movement, saw prostitution as an extreme manifestation of male domination, where women’s bodies are reduced to objects of consumption (Dworkin, 1993)[3].
Furthermore, Laurence Rossignol highlights the semantic ambiguity of the term “consent” and the sexism underlying its everyday use[4]. Meaning “to give one’s agreement,” it risks reinforcing gender stereotypes in sexual relations. She fears it perpetuates an unequal vision of sexuality, where men take the initiative and women merely accept or refuse.
Anne-Cécile Mailfert, president of the Women’s Foundation, therefore prefers to describe rape as “imposed penetration” rather than “non-consensual,” to keep the focus on the real issue: male violence[5].
A legislative reform: still an insufficient political step
In an interview with Le Monde, Catharine MacKinnon stated that “consent is the principal legal and social pretext for doing nothing about sexual assault” (2023). She fears that integrating consent into the law could be seen as a sufficient response to feminist demands, creating the illusion that the problem is solved. This perception could lead to political inertia—where governments believe they have done enough—while crucial issues remain unresolved: reducing case-processing times, strengthening police and judicial resources, and training magistrates and lawyers on gender-based violence. Effectively combating sexual violence also requires a strong national awareness campaign, particularly in schools.
Beyond the legal framework, the debate around consent reveals deep cultural issues linked to male domination and patriarchal norms. Rape is not merely a non-consensual sexual act but often an act of power and domination in an unequal relationship where the notion of consent becomes illusory. While this reform may pave the way for progress in tackling sexual violence, the justice system must remain vigilant against the potential instrumentalization of consent—and must, above all, ensure the continued protection of victims.
[1] On Tuesday, January 21, 2025, following the release of the report on the legal definition of rape by MPs Marie-Charlotte Garin (The Ecologists) and Véronique Riotton (Ensemble), Laurence Rossignol was invited to Le Grand Débat sur le consentement (“The Great Debate on Consent”) on the television channel LCP–National Assembly. The full debate is available here.
[2] Last Girl First! Prostitution at the Intersection of Sexist, Racist and Class Oppressions, Héma Sibi – CAP International, 2022. Available here.
[3] Andrea Dworkin, Prostitution and Male Supremacy, 1 MICH. J. GENDER & L. 1 (1993). Available here.
[4] Reflection shared during Le Grand Débat sur le consentement (“The Great Debate on Consent”) on the television channel LCP–National Assembly. Full program available here.
[5] Anne-Cécile Mailfert, during her appearance on the radio program En toute subjectivité (“In All Subjectivity”) on March 28, 2025, on France Inter. Full episode available here.
