Birmingham, United Kingdom — "The lack of social acceptance of male victims/survivors shapes public opinion in ways that trivialise their victimhood."
Sexual violence, a common denominator in most conflicts, is a grim and prevalent reality in the jihadist insurgency in Nigeria's northeast. Rape, sexual slavery, and "forced marriages" are all widespread and well-documented tragedies.
Yet while women and girls are disproportionately affected by the insecurity, men and boys are also targets of conflict-related sexual violence. However, it's a demographic routinely overlooked by officialdom, despite the evidence that men and boys are also raped, trafficked, and taken as concubines by fighters within Boko Haram.
Part of the reason male sexual abuse is overlooked is because men tend not to speak about it. The general assumption has been that silence is driven by fear of stigmatisation. But in a study conducted with Issac Dery, of the Institute of Gender and Development Studies, University of the West Indies, we found the reasons are far more complex - which has a bearing on how the government and wider society responds to their experiences.
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In total, 23 participants took part in our study. It included 12 male sexual violence survivors who had been rescued by the army, as well as security agents and human rights workers who had worked with victims. The interviews took place in two states in the northeast - Borno and Adamawa - considered the epicentre of the conflict.
Our study suggested the sexual abuse of men and boys is a lot more extensive than commonly understood. Staff at a sexual assault referral centre - which works to prosecute rape perpetrators - said they handled several cases of male conflict-related violence every month.
A same-sex sub-culture has traditionally existed in northern Nigeria. Terms in Hausa for "effeminate" men (yan daudu), lesbians (yan kefi), and men who have sex with men (masu harka) are evidence of the historical co-existence of "normative and non-normative" sexual encounters.
Yet there is also a strong culture of discretion, or secretiveness, known in Hausa as kunya - a word that encompasses notions of modesty or good behaviour. The kunya code of concealment suggests why national policies, laws, and institutions are collectively silent or overlook male victims of sexual violence - a silence that empowers the perpetrators and denies the victims care and counselling.
However, kunya's discretion is not entirely negative. It also offers a degree of protection for survivors, safeguarding them from re-victimisation by potential abusers in their communities and the threat of socio-legal persecution.
The lack of a voice
Existing research on male silence around rape - and the lack of government support - reflects the prevalent view of men as perpetrators and women as victims, which shapes most international and national laws.
Some studies suggest the lack of safety nets is also because male victims refuse to speak about their experiences. Others argue the absence of recognition stems from men's selective speech, which means they choose when and where to talk, including waiting until they can leave their communities before discussing matters - typically with strangers.
In a recent study, some academics argued that the silence is due to men filtering the words that they do speak. Jennifer Hornsby, at Birkbeck College, University of London, called this "disempowered" speech - their words lacking power to ask for support due to heteronormative notions that men should be seen as too strong to be sexually violated.
However, we found that stigma is too simple an explanation: something more complex is going on. The reason why words around male sexual violence are "powerless" is based on specific cultural precepts and norms such as kunya.
Secrecy is an essential socio-norm around issues of same-sex relations in Nigeria. In other words, a person who has same-sex experiences - whether they are consensual or forced - is expected to be discreet about the incidents. Many of the victims interviewed for the study recounted how they chose silence so as not to be classified as yan daudu or masu harka.
While stigma is about fear of discrimination, being classified as homosexual opens the door to potentially more harm, either through legal sanctions (same-sex activity is illegal in Nigeria) or from closeted gay men within the community.
For instance, some of the victims stated: "It makes you a target when other perpetrators hear of it; you instantly become their target." Another survivor explained: "If not for the people that saw it when it was happening, I would never open my mouth to tell anyone... They (sexual predators) will even want to attempt it with you."
There was a notable fear that being a victim of sexual violence could be confused with consent.
Those interviewed also avoided directly mentioning sex during the conversations, often referring to it as "the thing" or "the act". For instance, some survivors stated: "They were forcing me to have that thing with them"; "They took us to the room and did that thing with us"; or "They pointed a gun at our forehead before the act."
The use of idioms mirrors the language used by same-sex subcultures in northern Nigeria as a form of camouflage and protection. It also contributes to silencing men from speaking about their experiences in a context where the law punishes same-sex relationships rather than supporting or protecting sexual minorities.
"Where there is a wrong, there must be a remedy"
Human rights lawyers interviewed in our study suggested that where there is a wrong, there must be a remedy. Yet in a society where the law is vague on issues of same-sex violence, there is no remedy or little help for survivors.
The Nigerian government's legal protections against sexual violence, such as the Violence Against Persons Prohibition Act (VAPPA) and the Child Rights Act (CRA), are not implemented in all 36 states of the federation. Importantly, these laws are vague regarding same-sex violence - including male-to-male or female-to-female.
This lack of recognition is also evident in government policies such as the Nigeria National Action Plan on Women, Peace, and Security (NNAP), and the Nigeria National Action Plan on Preventing and Countering Violent Extremism (NNAPCVE), both of which only acknowledge women and girls as victims of sexual violence.
Nigeria is a highly patriarchal society. The lack of social acceptance of male victims/survivors - sustained by the secrecy surrounding conversations on gender and sexual violence - shapes public opinion in ways that trivialise their victimhood and weaken societal support for prosecuting perpetrators.
For example, in cases of male rape - even when perpetrators are caught - parents or families typically refuse to allow prosecution. The tendency is to say, "Let the matter die here," or "We do not want it to get out". When it comes to same-sex sexual violence, the "right behaviour" is essentially to remain silent.
Kunya poses a challenge to domesticating UN Security Council Resolution 2106, which recognises sexual violence against men and boys in conflict and post-conflict settings. It also influences the non-inclusion of male victims in Nigeria's National Action Plans, aimed at addressing conflict-related gender and sexual violence.
Yet that exclusion can create a cycle of violence among those who have been traumatised, neglected, and silenced. We encountered boys in the field study who - despite disliking the sexual violence they suffered - said they intended to rejoin Boko Haram. In the absence of adequate psycho-social support, it is illustrative of the power and impact of "trauma bonding" and PTSD.
What needs to be done
Sexual behaviour can be fluid in Boko Haram. It allows men to engage in the sexual grooming of young boys, designating some as both combatants and sexual objects, while others are kept specifically for sexual violence - similar to how women and girls are treated.
The Nigerian government's failure to recognise male victims of conflict-related sexual abuse is a glaring gap in providing support and care that risks perpetuating trauma-related cycles of violence.
To address these ommissions, Nigeria needs:
· Gender-neutral legal frameworks, policies, and programmes that guarantee equal protection and access to justice regardless of gender. For instance, VAPPA, the act that proscribes sexual violence, must be amended to explicitly recognise men and boys as potential victims of sexual violence.
Other action plans - including NNAP and NNAPCVE - should also expand their definitions of victims. This would ensure recognition that men and boys can be both perpetrators and survivors, thereby ensuring comprehensive legal protection.
· Psychosocial and mental health interventions for male victims and survivors must also be included in Nigeria's current NNAPS and NNAPCVE policy frameworks to include trauma-focused therapy.
· Legal protection is also key. The privacy of victims, including during humanitarian interventions, must be guaranteed. This would include guidelines against unauthorised disclosure of personal or identifiable data, confidential reporting, and protecting court proceedings.
The kidnapping of the Chibok girls from a school in northeastern Nigeria in 2014 - and the women-led advocacy that followed - drew global attention to the scourge of conflict-related sexual violence.
What our research demonstrates is that men and boys are also victims, and that without adequate support their life-long socio-psychological challenges can complicate counterterrorism and conflict resolution efforts.
*This essay was derived from a project funded by the American Council of Learned Societies/African Humanities Program, New York, entitled: "Masculinity, Male Bodies, and Victimhood in the Context of Counter-Terrorism in North-Eastern Nigeria." It also received funding through the University of Birmingham's Birmingham Impact Fund.
Edited by Obi Anyadike.
Emeka T. Njoku, Assistant Professor of Global Security and Society, University of Birmingham, UK