by Marina Strinkovsky

Carry Sick person

In the wake of the terrible news about Charles Saatchi seemingly assaulting his wife in public last Saturday, one of the most persistent bits of outrage I’ve seen is directed not at him, but at the other patrons of the restaurant in which the alleged assault took place. Namely: how could they have not intervened? How could they have just gone on with their lunch? Why did the photographer not do something? They are all terrible, callous, selfish human beings & should be ashamed of themselves.


It’s a question that comes up a lot: how come nobody did anything? In all sorts of crimes, but especially crimes of male violence against women and children, when the crime becomes public and the full facts of it emerge (or as full as can ever be the case for events that are normally private and hidden), it becomes obvious that there was in fact a web of people who had known all along that something was wrong and chose not to intervene. The recent revelations of systemic rape and sexual exploitation of vulnerable girls in Oxford is a good example.


The culprit, though, is not people’s inherent callousness and lack of empathy: it’s a psychological phenomenon called “the bystander effect”, and it’s an incredibly powerful instinct. It works like this: when there is more than one person witnessing some kind of event (say, a man throttling a woman), the likelihood of any one of them responding/intervening is in inverse proportion to their number. In other words, the more people witness an attack, the less likely any one of them is to offer help to the victim.


There are all kinds of reasons hypothesized for this phenomenon (read the Wiki article), but I think at least in part it has to have an adaptive element to it. Being the first person to respond to an abnormal situation can be dangerous, especially if one is not sure of the social rules governing the situation. Be the case as it may, the point I’m making is that the bystander effect doesn’t make us bad people, just people who have a tendency to react with a remarkable degree of similarity to certain stimuli.



The good news about the bystander effect is that it’s relatively easy to disrupt. As soon as one person moves to intervene – it can literally be something as simple as getting up and turning to walk in the direction of the incident – the charm is usually broken and more people will offer help. The question, specifically in the case of what looks like a domestic violence incident, is: should they?


Male violence in the context of intimate relationships is not just a series of unconnected incidents; it has its own cycle and follows an internal logic that can sometimes be counter-intuitive. It’s possible that the bystander effect unwittingly protects women who are victims of violence from worse violence. Confronting an abuser might feel good to us, and might stop the attack that is happening in front of our eyes, but it is highly likely to lead to further retribution for the victim behind closed doors. The perpetrator may, and in fact probably will, punish the victim for “embarrassing him” by “making him” hit her in public, exposing him to what he sees as undeserved shaming.


The most dangerous times for victims are times at which the perpetrator feels like his power over them is being questioned or shaken. Most people now know that a key turning point can be when a victim tries to leave (the majority of women who are murdered by partners are killed during or just after leaving), but the challenge can come from outside the relationship as well as inside. For example, when family members try to stage an intervention or openly get the victim away from the perpetrator, she often ends up getting  worse than usual beating, to reinforce the man’s power over her.



So while it’s tempting (and certainly common) to sneer with contempt at the over-privileged restaurant patrons who failed to lift a finger to help Nigella Lawson, we must remember that 1) it’s not really their individual moral failing and 2) it might have put her in greater danger. As it happens, she has already been put in greater danger, by the exposure of the attack in the press and the media circus around it. Charles Saatchi has not, so far, paid any kind of price for allegedly attacking her; in fact, he’s been given a bigger than usual platform by the Evening Standard, to pooh-pooh the whole thing as a “playful tiff”. Meanwhile we don’t know how his wife is doing, or what she is thinking and doing – or whether she is even OK.



Marina Strinkovsky is an Israeli feminist of Soviet origin living in the UK. Her interests revolve around the autonomy and agency of women over their bodies, which naturally includes questions of reproductive justice, sexual exploitation, rape and harassment. This doesn’t make her much fun at parties. Marina is the comics & graphic art editor at the F-Word magazine, and has written for the E-Feminist collective and the 40 Days of Life blog. She was also published in the feminist anthology The Lightbulb Moment. Marina lives in Swindon and works in HR to help finance her political activism. She blogs sporadically at


This post was originally posted on Marina’s blog on the 17th June 2013