Indeed, the use of the phrase “coercive control” in the context of domestic violence prevention and intervention goes back at least as far as Judith Lewis Herman’s book “Trauma and Recovery” (1992). In the chapter simply titled “Captivity,” she wrote, “Prolonged, repeated trauma, by contrast, occurs only in circumstances of captivity. When the victim is free to escape, she will not be abused a second time; repeated trauma occurs only when the victim is a prisoner, unable to flee, and under the control of the perpetrator.”

Herman added, “Political captivity is generally recognized, whereas the domestic captivity of women and children is often unseen.”

Finally, she noted, “Captivity, which brings the victim into prolonged contact with the perpetrator, creates a special type of relationship, one of coercive control. This is equally true whether the victim is taken captive entirely by force, as in the case of prisoners and hostages, or by a combination of force, intimidation, and enticement, as in the case of religious cult members, battered women, and abused children. The psychological impact of subordination to coercive control may have many common features, whether that subordination occurs within the public sphere of politics or within the private sphere of sexual and domestic relations… In situations of captivity, the perpetrator becomes the most powerful person in the life of the victim…”

Thus, I’m looking into how Stark’s concept of “coercive control” is substantially different from Herman’s? In what way, if any, does his work even rely or build on Herman’s (and “others”)?

I’m also intrigued by Stark’s suggestion that “coercive control” should be considered a “liberty” crime, since it is “designed to take away women’s freedom, autonomy, and dignity.”

That is true, of course. But, in most societies, it’s not just a man, one man, that cripples and crushes a woman’s, one woman’s, capacity to make choices and act on them. Instead, an abused woman is also made unfree by “manhood” often as it has been socially constructed within the context of a still-patriarchal society.

“In other words,” as wrote Nancy J. Hirschmann in a Frontiers article titled “Domestic Violence and the Theoretical Discourse of Freedom” (1996), “the ultimate barrier to women’s freedom is patriarchy, or the social, legal, and economic control that men are accorded over women; all other particular and specific barriers that individual women experience at any given time or place, in any given relationship, in any given experiential moment, can be understood only in this larger repressive context. Accordingly, battered women’s freedom is restricted by men’s violence and the sexist values that underpin and perpetuate it. Women’s freedom requires that this violence and its ideological supports be ended. As long as society does not recognize and support that goal, however, it is up to individual women to manage and cope in the best way they can. When looked at from this perspective, what may appear to be complicity, internalization of abuse, or even masochism may in reality be a form of resistance, management, or just plain survival…. But that does not mean she does not feel fear, that she wants or enjoys the beatings, or that she is free.”

I wonder, of course, whether Stark also indicts patriarchy in his book and, if so, also makes recommendations for finally bringing it to justice.

It has been widely known and discussed for decades now that batterers “develop an obsession when the victims try to leave” and “intensify physical violence and threats of homicide and suicide” (see, e.g., Subadra Marharja’s brief survey of research online titled “Violence in Marriage: Why Do Women Stay” [ca. 2000]). “Community response,” adds Marharja, “has been a major deterrent for many women to leave abusive relationships,” with the protective and legal systems being “largely responsible.”

Therefore, what I hope Stark does is offer clear and compelling advice on how DV preventionists and interventionists can put way more of their money and long-term resources where their collective mouth is to further ensure that no abused woman is LEFT behind.

1. Even if it is true that leaving is dangerous, how many of these men give ample warning before or during the relationship? I recently met a woman and we had a fairly pleasant conversation. But she mentioned that she was in a drug treatment program, so I chose not to ask for her number. I’m guessing that a lot of these guys are walking around with prison tattoos or well-deserved reputations. In the words of late Nicole Brown Simpson, “…I think you know his record.”

2. Some of my experience agrees with Rob. When I was recently volunteering at a domestic violence shelter, there was talk of a man who recently climbed the exterior of the multi-story building and banged on the window of his ex-partner.

One of the other residents asked “how did he know which window?”

It hurts me to think of all those women in abusive relationships, and if this is true, why my advising one of them to leave last year may have been a very dangerous thing. Fortunately, it is not going to come to his hurting her. But it could have. I’ve got to get this book.

What do you think would help?

I don’t see it as pathology, but as a natural attempt to survive a horrible environment: the victim will tend to identify with the captor who is providing punishment and occasional positive reinforcement.

To say that there is nothing wrong is to ignore the years of psychological trauma inflicted.

As for the homicide rate, how many of those occur not when the person leaves, but when the person attempts to reconcile with the abuser?

One police officer finally left his abusive wife, a female police officer with the same service. She requested a reconciliation and he agreed to talk with her. She shot him. This is the pattern I saw in my years as a paramedic, although usually with female victims.

I’m not saying there isn’t a need for better laws, shelters, or something better than PFAs. Counselors attempt to tell the victims that abusers do not change. The problem is, the victims don’t always listen because of how they were traumatized.

Don’t we want to believe otherwise? That we could protect ourselves? That we are not like those people who have horrible things happen to them? (Or at least, as he was addressing, that we could handle the trauma differently.) I thought that was a wise and compassionate answer.

Yeah, it is easy for me to believe that things like rape could happen to anyone, but harder for me to believe that about domestic violence, where there is an ongoing relationship dynamic. Thank you for the eye-opening post.

A common feminist idea is that we need to stop blaming the victims. I agree with this, of course, but sometimes it comes out as a criticism of anyone who suggests steps to avoid victimization. Why don’t we just tell the rapists to stop rather than telling women to lock their doors, as if it’s the women’s fault and not the rapists’? I think it’s more like that we know rapists or abusers are hopeless, and we hope the victims might be able to do something themselves.

The truth is, abusers and rapists are both capable of being dissuaded from their actions by consequences. That’s a good reason to take these crimes extremely seriously.

Thank you also for calling attention to this problem. What do you think would be the best way to advise women who are in abusive relationships who have reason to believe that leaving might make them less safe? If both leaving and staying endangers them, what can we do?