Explaining the Transition from Victim to Offender Among Men Who Experienced Child Sexual Abuse

Explaining the transition from victim to offender among men who experienced child sexual abuse.

Malory Plummer

A thesis submitted in the fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy

School of Law

August 2019

v Thesis/Dissertation Sheet

Surname/Family Name :Plummer Given Name/s :Malory Abbreviation for degree as give in the University calendar : 1730-LAW Faculty :Law School :Law Explaining the transition from victim to offender among Thesis Title : men who experienced child sexual abuse

Abstract 350 words maximum: (PLEASE TYPE) The "cycle" of child sexual abuse (CSA) describes the transition from being a victim of CSA to committing acts of CSA in adolescence or adulthood. This transition is not well understood, with significant gaps in the literature. This thesis aims to identify the factors that may impact the transition from survivor to offender, and to explain why some sexually victimised boys become child sex offenders.

Qualitative in-depth interviews with 10 non-offending CSA survivors and 8 offending CSA survivors revealed differences between the ways in which offenders and non-offenders interpreted their CSA experiences within their social contexts. In particular, qualitative analysis revealed that offenders were more likely than non-offenders to experience CSA that resulted in understandings of their abuse as (i) sexual in nature, and/or (ii) non-abusive or minimally harmful.

When these findings were considered in light of current theoretical explanations for the cycle of CSA, the Power/Powerlessness theory provided substantial insight into why some sexually abused boys become child sex offenders. The greater likelihood for offenders to understand the sexual nature of CSA at the onset of their abuse had implications for the development of their sexual identities, while their likelihood to minimise the abusive nature of their experiences highlighted the impact of CSA on how they constructed their masculinities. As predicted by the Power/Powerlessness theory, offenders’ sexual behaviours with children, and other sexual behaviours, provided a means to relieve experiences of powerlessness throughout their lives.

This study concludes that the way a boy understands his abuse affects the development of his masculine social and sexual practices, such that he may use sexual behaviours with children to experience power and accomplish masculinity. Areas for future research into the cycle of CSA using larger, more representative, samples of survivors and offenders are suggested based on the findings of this study.

Declaration relating to disposition of project thesis/dissertation

I hereby grant to the University of New South Wales or its agents the right to archive and to make available my thesis or dissertation in whole or in part in the University libraries in all forms of media, now or here after known, subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968. I retain all property rights, such as patent rights. I also retain the right to use in future works (such as articles or books) all or part of this thesis or dissertation.

I also authorise University Microfilms to use the 350 word abstract of my thesis in Dissertation Abstracts International (this is applicable to doctoral theses only).

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i ORIGINALITY STATEMENT

I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, or substantial proportions of material which have been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere, is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project's design and conception or in style, presentation and linguistic expression is acknowledged.

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‘I hereby grant the University of New South Wales or its agents the right to archive and to make available my thesis or dissertation in whole or part in the University libraries in all forms of media, now or here after known, subject to the provisions of the Copyright Act 1968. I retain all proprietary rights, such as patent rights. I also retain the right to use in future works (such as articles or books) all or part of this thesis or dissertation. I also authorise University Microfilms to use the 350 word abstract of my thesis in Dissertation Abstract International (this is applicable to doctoral theses only). I have either used no substantial portions of copyright material in my thesis or I have obtained permission to use copyright material; where permission has not been granted I have applied/will apply for a partial restriction of the digital copy of my thesis or dissertation.'

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iii INCLUSION OF PUBLICATIONS STATEMENT

UNSW is supportive of candidates publishing their research results during their candidature as detailed in the UNSW Thesis Examination Procedure.

Publications can be used in their thesis in lieu of a Chapter if: x The student contributed greater than 50% of the content in the publication and is the “primary author”, ie. the student was responsible primarily for the planning, execution and preparation of the work for publication x The student has approval to include the publication in their thesis in lieu of a Chapter from their supervisor and Postgraduate Coordinator. x The publication is not subject to any obligations or contractual agreements with a third party that would constrain its inclusion in the thesis

Please indicate whether this thesis contains published material or not. This thesis contains no publications, either published or submitted for ܆ publication (if this box is checked, you may delete all the material on page 2) Some of the work described in this thesis has been published and it has been documented in the relevant Chapters with ܈ acknowledgement (if this box is checked, you may delete all the material on page 2) This thesis has publications (either published or submitted for ܆ publication) incorporated into it in lieu of a chapter and the details are presented below

CANDIDATE’S DECLARATION I declare that: x I have complied with the Thesis Examination Procedure x where I have used a publication in lieu of a Chapter, the listed publication(s) below meet(s) the requirements to be included in the thesis. Name Signature Date Malory Plummer

iv Table of Contents

List of Tables...... ix

Acknowledgements ...... x

Chapter 1: The Cycle of Child Sexual Abuse...... 1 1.1 Introduction ...... 1 1.2 Background ...... 1 1.3 Aims of the Thesis and Research Methods ...... 10 1.4 Significance of the Research ...... 11 1.5 Terminology ...... 13 1.6 Structure of the Thesis ...... 17 Chapter 2: Factors Affecting the Transition from CSA Victim to Offender 19 2.1 Age at Onset of Abuse ...... 20 2.2 Duration & Frequency of Abuse ...... 22 2.3 Relationship between the Victim & their Abuser ...... 24 2.4 Gender of the Abuser ...... 26 2.5 Nature & Severity of Abuse ...... 31 2.6 Grooming ...... 34 2.7 Disclosure of Abuse ...... 38 2.8 Summary and Conclusions ...... 43 Chapter 3: Theories of the Cycle of Child Sexual Abuse ...... 49 3.1 Introduction ...... 49 3.2 Social Learning Theory ...... 50 3.2.1 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of SLT ...... 53 3.3 The Pathways Model ...... 56 3.3.1 Four Preconditions Model (1984) ...... 56 3.3.2 Quadripartite Model (1992) ...... 57 3.3.3 Integrated Theory (1990) ...... 57 3.3.4 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of the Models ...... 58 3.3.5 Pathways Model (2002) ...... 62 3.3.6 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of the Pathways Model ...... 64 3.4 The Power/Powerlessness Theory (2000) ...... 70 3.4.1 Sociological & Gender-Based Approaches: Feminist Perspectives ...... 70 3.4.2 Power/Powerlessness Theory ...... 88 3.4.3 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of the Power/Powerlessness Theory 96 3.5. Conclusions ...... 98 Chapter 4: Research Design, Methodology and Implementation ...... 101 4.1 Developing the Methodology and Selecting the Methods ...... 101 4.2 Developing the Project Design ...... 103 4.2.1 Recruitment Strategies ...... 104

vi 4.2.2 Screening and referrals ...... 106 4.2.3 Interview Structure ...... 107 4.3 Implementing the Project Methodology ...... 109 4.3.1 Demographic information about participants ...... 110 4.3.2 Ethics Approval ...... 110 4.3.3 The Recruitment Phase of the Project ...... 111 4.3.4 The Interview ...... 113 4.3.5 Transcription ...... 115 4.3.6 Participants’ Review of Transcripts ...... 116 4.3.7 Data Analysis ...... 117 4.4 Evaluating the Methodology ...... 120 4.4.1 Reflecting on qualitative research: My role as interviewer ...... 121 4.4.2 Reflecting on qualitative research: Participants’ experiences ...... 127 4.4.3 Limitations of the life history approach ...... 129

Chapter 5: The Lived Experiences of Non-Offending Victims ...... 132 5.1 Characteristics and Experiences of Abuse ...... 132 5.1.1 Age at Abuse Onset, Duration and Frequency of Abuse ...... 133 5.1.2 Gender of Abuser and Relationship to Abuser ...... 137 5.1.3 Grooming ...... 139 5.1.4 Acts and Severity ...... 145 5.1.5 Disclosure ...... 146 5.2 Sexuality ...... 152 5.2.1 Development of Sexual Attitudes and Understandings ...... 153 5.2.2 Sexuality and Intimacy ...... 162 5.2.3 Summary ...... 164 5.3 Relationships...... 165 5.3.1 Contexts of Relationships ...... 165 5.3.2 Rejection, Disappointment, and Vulnerability ...... 170 5.3.3 Powerlessness and Power ...... 173 5.4 Summary of Findings ...... 177 Chapter 6: The Lived Experiences of Offending Victims ...... 180 6.1 Characteristics and Experiences of Abuse ...... 180 6.1.1 Age at Abuse Onset, Duration and Frequency of Abuse ...... 181 6.1.2 Gender of Abuser and Relationship to Abuser ...... 184 6.1.3 Grooming ...... 186 6.1.4 Acts and Severity ...... 196

vii 6.1.5 Disclosure ...... 197 6.2 Sexuality ...... 201 6.2.1 Development of Sexual Attitudes and Understandings ...... 201 6.2.2 Sexuality and Intimacy ...... 214 6.2.3 Summary ...... 215 6.3 Relationships...... 216 6.3.1 Contexts of Relationships ...... 216 6.3.2 Rejection, Disappointment, and Vulnerability ...... 221 6.3.3 Powerlessness and Power ...... 224 6.4 Characteristics of Offending ...... 228 6.4.1 Nature of Offences ...... 229 6.4.2 Grooming...... 230 6.4.3 Victim Disclosure/Cessation of Offending...... 232 6.4.4 Context and motivations for offending...... 233 6.5 Summary of Findings ...... 235 6.5.1 Characteristics of CSA & Offending ...... 235 6.5.2. Sexuality ...... 238 6.5.3. Relationships ...... 238

Chapter 7: Explaining the Transition from Victim to Offender...... 239 7.1. Patterns of Abuse Experienced by Offenders and Non-Offenders ...... 240 7.2 Understanding the abuse as purely sexual ...... 245 7.2.2 Understanding the abuse as sexual: The social construction of sexualities ...... 253 7.3 Understanding the abuse as minimally harmful ...... 264 7.4 Explaining the relationship between powerlessness, sexualities and sex offending against children ...... 274 Chapter 8: Conclusions...... 288 8.1. Limitations, Implications and Recommendations for Future Research ...... 293 References...... 298

Appendices...... 347 Appendix A: UNSW HREC Ethics Approval ...... 347 Appendix B: Safety Protocol ...... 350 Appendix C: Updated Safety Protocol for Interviews in WA ...... 352 Appendix D: Recruitment Invitation- Non-Offenders 2014 ...... 353 Appendix E: Recruitment Invitation- Offenders 2014 ...... 354 Appendix F: Pre-Interview Questionnaire ...... 356 Appendix G: Participant Information Statement and Consent Form- Non-Offenders 2014 357 Appendix H: Participant Information Statement and Consent Form- Offenders 2014 ...... 361 Appendix I: Interview Schedules for Offenders & Non-Offenders ...... 365 Appendix J: Updated Recruitment Invitation- Non-Offenders 2015 ...... 373 Appendix K: Updated Recruitment Invitation- Offenders 2015 ...... 375

viii Appendix L: Updated Participant Information Statement & Consent- Non-Offenders 2016 377 Appendix M: Updated Participant Information Statement & Consent-Offenders 2016 ...... 382 Appendix N: Transcript Approval Letter ...... 387 Appendix O: Examples of Grooming Offences ...... 388

List of Tables

Table 5.1 Demographic Information: Non-offenders (n=10) Table 5.2 Age at Onset & Cessation, Duration and Frequency of CSA: Non-offenders (n=10) Table 5.3 Relationship to Abuser, and Abuser Gender: Non-offenders (n=10) Table 5.4 Acts Experienced and Severity of CSA Experience: Non-offenders (n=10) Table 5.5 Disclosure Experiences: Non-Offenders (n=10) Table 6.1 Demographic Information: Offenders (n=8) Table 6.2 Age at Onset & Cessation; Duration and Frequency of CSA: Offenders (n=8) Table 6.3 Relationship to Abuser, and Abuser Gender: Offenders (n=8) Table 6.4 Acts Experienced and Severity of CSA Experience: Offenders (n=8) Table 6.5 Disclosure Experience: Offenders (n=8) Table 6.6 Participant relationship to victim(s) and victim gender Table 6.7 Participant age at offence onset & cessation; Duration and frequency of offences Table 6.8 Nature and severity of offences Table 7.1 Comparison of Participants’ CSA Experiences and Key Findings: Offenders (n=8), Non-Offenders (n=10)

ix Acknowledgements

I would like to thank Professor Anne Cossins and Professor Janet Chan for their supervision throughout my candidature. I could not have completed this project without their expertise.

I would also like to acknowledge Professor Julie Stubbs, Dr Michael Grewcock, Dr Jane Bolitho, and Ms Melanie Schwartz for the support and insightful feedback they provided as members of my review panel. Thanks also to Jenny Jarret, who was hugely supportive throughout my candidature.

I would also like to thank my family, friends and employers for their endless encouragement throughout this process.

This project would not have been possible without the support, guidance, and assistance I received from the Survivors and Mates Support Network, Jessica Pratley, Christabel Chamarette and the staff at Owenia House. I thank them for their belief, continued support, and the significant roles they had in facilitating my project.

Most importantly, thank you to the eighteen men who shared their stories with me, and who entrusted me with their deeply personal experiences.

x Chapter 1: The Cycle of Child Sexual Abuse

1.1Introduction Child sexual abuse (CSA) is a widespread social issue that “exists at all levels of society” (Colton & Vanstone, 1996, p.2). In a comprehensive analysis of the extent of the problem of CSA, Stoltenborgh, van Ijzendoorn, Euser, and Bakermans-Kranenburg (2011) analysed CSA prevalence rates reported in 217 studies with a combined sample of 9,911,748 participants. The authors found that the overall estimated CSA prevalence was 12.7 percent in self-report studies, with 18 percent of female and 7.6 percent of male participants reporting an experience of CSA.

This review demonstrates the global extent of CSA which has been linked to a range of negative outcomes for victims (Colton & Vanstone, 1996, p.2). One such outcome is the development of child sex offending behaviours in adolescence or adulthood (known as the “cycle” of CSA). While numerous studies have found statistically significant links between experiencing CSA and subsequently perpetrating CSA in later life, few studies have examined the factors that affect the transition from victim to offender. Even fewer have attempted to explain why the factors associated with the “cycle” of CSA result in child sex offending by victimised boys rather than victimised girls.

The aim of this thesis is to address these significant gaps in the literature. By interviewing sexually victimised child sex offenders and comparing their accounts to sexually victimised non-offenders, I aim to identify the factors that affect the transition from victim to offender. By situating the lived CSA experiences of these sexually victimised men within their social contexts, this thesis will contribute to understandings about how men perceive, understand, and interpret their experiences of CSA in order to explain why the cycle of CSA is found among some, but not all, sexually victimised men.

1.2 Background In Australia there were 6,887 substantiated cases of CSA in 2017-18, and similar numbers in preceding years (Australian Institute of Health & Welfare (AIHW), 2018). Official statistics such as these only capture the “cases where maltreatment has been reported to authorities, it can be substantiated, and the risk of harm to the child is sufficiently high to justify intervention” (Moore et al., 2015). The secrecy in which child sexual abuse is perpetrated, the reluctance of many survivors to disclose their abuse, and difficulties obtaining evidence of CSA mean that official statistics represent only a

1 “conservative estimate” of the occurrence of CSA in Australia (Bromfield & Higgins, 2004, p.19; Australian Institute of Family Studies (AIFS), 2017; Dunne et al., 2003; Mathews et al., 2017). Since crime victim surveys indicate that CSA in Australia is reported to official agencies in less than 30 per cent of cases (Dunne et al., 2003), underreporting hides the true extent of CSA. More recently, among the 5,518 victims who discussed their CSA disclosure experiences with the Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, 80.8 percent said that they had not reported their abuse to the police (2017, Volume 2, p.67). While current understandings of offender behavior are based on reported cases of CSA, we know little about the nature of the abuse, offenders and victims in unreported cases of CSA (see sections 2.7; 2.8.1). CSA is, therefore, a pervasive social concern deserving of significant attention. More particularly, research is needed to help explain perpetrators’ sexual interest in children.

While research into CSA has generally adhered to the “male perpetrator–female victim paradigm”, over the past decade research has increasingly acknowledged the nature and extent of boys’ victimisation (Hartill, 2009, p.225). The Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, established by the Australian Government in 2013, was instrumental in highlighting that the sexual abuse of boys is widespread, with men making up approximately 64 percent of the 6,875 survivors who shared their experiences with the Royal Commission during the course of the inquiries (Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, 2017; hereinafter referred to as the ‘Royal Commission’). Although the outcomes for male victims are comparatively under-researched due to women more often being victims and therefore more often being included in CSA research, the Royal Commission’s 5-year inquiry revealed that there are significant harms associated with CSA for boys, including long term issues associated with mental health, physical health, substance abuse, aggression, guilt and self-blame, self-harm, interpersonal problems, and sexual dysfunction.

Although the Royal Commission did not focus on sexually victimised men who were also child sex offenders in their inquiry, one particular outcome that has been associated with male victimisation is the “victim-to-victimiser” cycle. Many studies report a link between a history of sexual abuse in childhood and the perpetration of CSA in adolescence and/or adulthood (Aebi, Landolt, Mueller-Pfeiffer, Schnyder, Maier, & Mohler-Kuo, 2015; Burton, Miller, & Shill, 2002; DeLisi, Kosloski, Vaughn, Caudill, & Trulson, 2014; Dennison & LeClerc 2011; Felson & Lane 2009; Hilton & Mezey, 1996; Jespersen, Lalumiere, & Seto, 2009; Romano & De Luca, 1997; Whitaker, 2008). For example, retrospective self-report

2 studies indicate that up to 75 percent of male child sex offenders report a history of CSA (Ogloff et al., 2012). This is substantially higher than self-reports among men in the general population since prevalence studies estimate that approximately 8 percent of men self-report a history of CSA, although this comparison has to take into account that self-report studies are not necessarily representative of the population of child sex offenders. While most studies have relied on clinical or incarcerated samples of offenders to determine that significant proportions of offenders are sexually abused as children, evidence for the “cycle” of CSA has been found among studies using more representative community-based samples that provide the most reliable support for the link between sexual victimisation in childhood and child sex offending in adolescence or adulthood (Elliott, Browne, & Kilcoyne, 1995; Felson & Lane, 2009; Romano & De Luca, 1997).

For example, among a community sample of 750 males aged 18 to 27 years, Bagley, Wood and Young (1994, p.694) found that even when controlling for various other factors, “sexual abuse history … remains a statistically significant correlate or predictor of current sexual interest in children and male adolescents” (Bagley et al., 1994, p.591). While the authors noted that issues of validity arise when self-report measures are used, they argued that “measurement errors will err in the direction of understatement and concealment, a bias working against the establishment of statistical significance” (Bagley et al., 1994, p.694). They were thus able to conclude that there are “statistically significant links between a history of abuse (particularly multiple-episode abuse) and current sexual interest or activity involving minors”1 (Bagley et al., 1994, p.694).

More recently, in a 45-year follow-up study, Papalia, Ogloff, Cutajar & Mullen (2018) linked 2,759 medically confirmed cases of CSA to police databases between 13 and 44 years following the abuse. This data was compared to 2,677 men and women drawn from the Australian Electoral Commission, matched for age and gender. The authors found a statistically significant link between experiencing CSA and sexually abusing a child (younger than 16 years) (p<0.001) among male, but not female, CSA victims. While the majority of sexually victimised men did not acquire a subsequent sexual offending conviction (97%), sexually victimised boys (3%) were significantly more likely to be charged with a sexual offence than non-victimised boys (0.5%) (p<0.001). The authors therefore found strong support for a cycle of CSA among men, but not among women,

1 Minors were defined by Bagley, Wood and Young (1994) as males and females aged under 13, and males aged 13 to 15 years. 3 since female CSA victims were no more likely than non-victimised females to be convicted of a sex offence.

While incarcerated2 and clinical3 samples provide less robust support for a “cycle” of abuse, among a very large national sample of 13,964 incarcerated men, Felson and Lane (2009) found that the likelihood of committing a sexual offence against a child was more than 8 times higher among CSA victims than those with no history of CSA (p<0.001). The large sample size “allowed for a sufficient number of cases to examine the relationship between specific types of abuse, and particular types of adult offences” (Felson & Lane, 2009, p.492). The results indicated that child sex offenders were significantly more likely to experience CSA, whereas both violent and nonviolent offenders were more likely to have experienced childhood physical abuse. Other large samples of incarcerated offenders, and samples of offenders accessing clinical treatment, have found similar links between victimisation and offending (Glasser et al., 2001; Jennings et al., 2013; De Lisi et al., 2014; Simons, Wurtele & Durham, 2008; Stirpe & Stermac, 2003). For example, among a large sample of 2,520 incarcerated male juvenile offenders, De Lisi et al. (2014) found that “CSA increased the likelihood of later sexual offending nearly sixfold”, while Simons, Wurtele & Durham (2008) revealed that CSA perpetrators (n=132) were significantly more likely to have been sexually abused as children (73%) than were rapists (43%) (n=137).

Despite these studies finding statistically significant links between experiencing CSA and subsequent child sex offending, it is important to note that the “cycle” of CSA is not an inevitable outcome for victims. Rather, it is relevant for a particular proportion of victims, and this study aims to determine why this is the case for some victims, but not for others.

2 Incarcerated samples are considered to provide less robust support for the cycle of CSA because (i) they only represent those who were caught and convicted of offences; (ii) they are likely to represent more serious or persistent offenders; (iii) there is a greater likelihood for incarcerated participants to misrepresent their experiences as a means of mitigating or justifying their offending; and (iv) the limitations of self-report reduce the reliability of data pertaining to distant (traumatic) experiences such as childhood victimisation (e.g. accuracy, honesty, limitations of memory) (Connolly & Woollens, 2008; Cossins, 2000; Deslauriers-Varin & Beauregard, 2010; Felson & Lane, 2009; Plummer & Cossins, 2016; Simons, Wurtele & Durham, 2008; Terry & Mitchell, 2001). While these limitations make the findings from incarcerated samples less generalisable, they still provide significant insights into the potential existence and nature of a cycle of CSA. 3 Like incarcerated samples, the findings from studies using clinical samples should be interpreted with caution since they may not be generalisable to the broader population. Nonetheless, these studies provide insight into the cycle of abuse among survivors and offenders who access clinical treatment. 4 For example, Salter et al. (2003) contend that most victims of CSA do not become perpetrators in adulthood, while Whitaker (2008) argues that most sex offenders against children do not demonstrate a history of CSA. In line with this, some studies have found limited evidence of a “cycle” of CSA (Hanson & Slater, 1988; Leach, Stewart & Smallbone, 2016; Salter, et al., 2003; Widom & Ames, 1994). However, these studies still reported that a small proportion of participants in their samples went on to become offenders, which supports the premise of this thesis: that child sex offending is not an inevitable outcome, but is relevant for a particular proportion of victims.

Some researchers refute the existence of a “cycle” of CSA because prevalence studies consistently demonstrate that victims of CSA are most often girls, while perpetrators are most often men or male adolescents (Dunne et al., 2003; Finkelhor et al., 1990; McCloskey & Raphael, 2005; Najman et al., 2005; Pereda et al., 2009; Stoltenborgh, van Ijzendoorn, Euser, and Bakermans-Kranenburg, 2011). It is argued that if a “cycle” existed, women would be more likely to be represented among the population of child sex offenders (Fagan, 2001; Freel, 2003). However, the assumption that a “cycle” of CSA cannot exist because of this fact overlooks the gendered nature of the “cycle”: that is, the “cycle” only appears to be relevant for male victims. Few studies acknowledge this fact (Proeve, Malvaso, & DelFabbro, 2016), and even less explain why this might be the case. By interviewing male CSA survivors and survivor-offenders in this thesis, I intend to address this gap in the literature.

Other researchers refute the existence of a “cycle” of CSA because other forms of childhood maltreatment are associated with subsequent child sex offending (Friedrich et al., 2001; Kessler, Davis, & Kendler, 1997; Proeve & DelFabbro, 2016; Simons, Wurtele, & Durham, 2008; Widom, 1996; Widom & Ames, 1994). Proponents of this view suggest that a “cycle” of CSA cannot exist because experiencing CSA is often associated with various other forms of childhood adversity meaning that it is one of many contributing factors to later child sex offending (Connolly & Woollons, 2008; Finkelhor, 1990; Higgins & McCabe, 2003; Langevin et al., 1989; Lee et al., 2002; Yancey and Hansen 2010). For example, Jespersen, Lalumiere and Seto (2009, p.180) contend that because CSA is

often accompanied by other difficult experiences … and because sexual offending typically does not occur in the absence of other problem behaviours … it is difficult to determine whether the experience of sexual abuse has a unique association with the commission of sexual offences.

5 As a result, some studies have compared different types of abusive histories among offending populations to both disprove the notion of a “cycle” of CSA and to demonstrate the link between various forms of childhood adversity and criminal outcomes in adulthood (Salter et al., 2003; Stirpe & Stirmac, 2003). Nonetheless, these studies still find a link between CSA and subsequent child sex offending. Other adverse childhood factors are found in addition to, rather than instead of, the presence of CSA in offenders’ histories. For example, Stirpe and Stermac (2003) found a statistically significant link between experiencing CSA and becoming a child sex offender among a clinical sample of 33 child sex offenders, 66 violent offenders, and 25 nonviolent offenders (p<0.001). The authors also examined other childhood factors and found that child sex offenders were significantly more likely than violent or nonviolent offenders to have experienced severe violence in the home (p<0.001), to live with family members who had also experienced CSA (p<0.001), and to report that their fathers were also perpetrators of CSA (p<0.001). The authors therefore concluded that certain social factors in addition to the experience of CSA may impact subsequent child sex offending. While the authors relied on self-report by a clinical sample, they found strong support for a link between CSA and subsequent child sex offending, in addition to links between other childhood factors and the perpetration of CSA:

Although the link between childhood sexual victimization and later perpetration is likely mediated by other variables such as the ones investigated in this research, the findings of the very high rates of reported sexual abuse, nevertheless, have implications for an intergenerational hypothesis regarding sexual offenders … the specific mechanisms through which this occurs are not known (p.553).

However, this study did not include a comparison sample of non-offenders, nor a sample of female offenders and non-offenders. This is problematic because studies that consider other forms of childhood adversity to be as influential on the CSA cycle as the experience of CSA itself overlook the fact that these factors are equally likely to be found in the childhoods of both men and women, yet it appears that only sexually victimised men perpetuate a cycle of CSA. Arguably, if other childhood adversities are more predictive of subsequent child sex offending than the experience of CSA itself, it would be possible to identify those adversities that are significantly more common within the childhoods of sexually victimised men than sexually victimised women. However, no study has undertaken such research.

6 While fewer studies have examined factors that protect victims from becoming offenders, some studies have identified that protective factors such as social support may foster resilience in victims, which reduces their likelihood of developing sexually abusive behaviours in adulthood (e.g. de Paul, Milner & Mugica, 1995; Gilgun, 1990; Lambie et al., 2002; Prendergast, 1993). For example, among a community sample of 88 men, Lambie et al. (2002) compared a “resilient” group of 47 sexually victimised men who did not perpetuate a cycle of abuse with a “victim-offender” group of 41 sexually victimised men who subsequently became child sex offenders. The authors found that social and emotional support, particularly friendships, across multiple areas of a child’s life, were significant mediating factors in the cycle of CSA. While the study involved a sample of victims and offenders receiving counselling or sex offender treatment, meaning that the findings of this study may not be representative of all victims and offenders, the authors included a comparison group, and used of a range of qualitative and quantitative measures to conclude that “social support may play a significant role in acting as a buffering factor to the victim offender cycle” (Lambie et al., 2002, p.44). Nonetheless, as discussed above in relation to adverse childhood experiences, boys and girls are equally likely to experience these forms of protective factors, yet boys are more likely to become child sex offenders in adolescence or adulthood. Accordingly, explanations of child sex offending that emphasise protective (or adverse) childhood experiences among offenders do not explain why mostly male (but not female) children with such childhood experiences are more likely to become child sex offenders.

Overall, numerous studies have found statistically significant links between experiencing CSA in childhood and perpetrating CSA in adulthood among community, incarcerated, clinical, and student samples. However, these studies have not been able to account for the gender difference between male and female CSA victims. The arguments refuting the existence of a “cycle” of CSA are also unable to account for why victimised men, rather than victimised women, are more likely to become child sex offenders in adulthood. The fact that more women are victims of CSA while more men are perpetrators simply suggests that a “cycle” of CSA is only relevant for male victims. The finding that CSA may be associated with other risk factors, as well as protective factors, during childhood is relevant for both men and women. If these other risk and protective factors were equally likely to affect the transition from victim to offender, a higher proportion of female child sex offenders would be expected.

7 There are, therefore, compelling reasons to conclude that a “cycle” of CSA may exist, but since child sex offending is not an inevitable outcome for victims, there are three important clarifications to consider in this thesis: (i) a “cycle” of CSA only appears to exist for a particular proportion of CSA victims; (ii) a “cycle” of CSA is predominantly found among male victims; and (iii) other social and environmental factors associated with the experience of child sexual abuse may be implicated in the “cycle” of CSA.

While the cycle of CSA is predominantly found among men, it is not exclusively found among men. Devov (2003a, p.48; 2003b) argues that “women who sexually abuse children and their victims, whether male or female, have been largely ignored or neglected from serious study”. McLeod, Natale, and Johnson (2015) suggest that this is due to several factors including

perceived lower incidence and prevalence rates for female than male sex offenders, traditional gender stereotypes that portray males as sexual aggressors and females as nurturers … and differing standards for investigating, treating, and punishing incidences of sexual offending with females, where offending behavior is viewed with greater shock, not greater outrage, than sexual crimes committed by men.

The literature indicates that up to 20 percent of CSA is perpetrated by women (Kramer & Bowman, 2011; McLeod et al., 2015). For example, in a community sample of 17,337 adults, Dube et al. (2005) found that 40 percent of male CSA victims and 6 percent of female CSA victims experienced abuse perpetrated by a female offender. Some studies have, therefore, attempted to examine the factors that contribute to female sex offending, and several have found evidence for a cycle of CSA in women (Christopher, Lutz-Zois & Reinhardt, 2007; Gannon, Rose & Ward, 2008; Levenson et al., 2014; Matthews, 1997; Roe-Sepowitz & Krysik, 2008).

In a study of 22 women convicted of sexual offences Gannon, Rose and Ward (2008) found that 36 percent of participants experienced CSA while 76% of their victims were children. Levenson Willis and Prescott (2015) found that half of their clinical sample of 47 female sex offenders (95% of whom had been convicted of sex offences against children) had experienced CSA, and were three times more likely to report having experienced CSA than women in the general population. In a study of incarcerated 61

8 female sex offenders and 81 female non-sex offenders, Christopher, Lutz-Zois and Reinhardt (2007, p.871) found that the sex offenders experienced more frequent and prolonged CSA than the non-sex offenders. The authors concluded that “the nature of the sexual abuse suffered in childhood is an important variable in predicting future sexual abuse perpetration” among female offenders.

While the cycle of CSA appears to be mostly relevant for male CSA victims, an increasing body of research into female child sex offending has found that “some victims do become offenders and female victims are not, by virtue of their gender, exempt from this potentiality” (Robinson, 1998, p. 64). However, the literature in this area is still growing, and the existing body of knowledge is drawn from small samples of clinical and incarcerated populations which are not generalisable to the broader population of female offenders. While the available prevalence data may indeed underestimate the true rates of female perpetrated CSA (e.g. McLeod, 2015; Robinson, 1998; Tozdan, Briken & Dekker, 2019), the current literature suggests that the cycle of CSA is more likely to affect boys and men rather than girls and women. Although female perpetrated CSA is not the focus of the present study, future research in this area may contribute to understandings of the cycle of CSA as Denov (2001, p.324) suggests:

Although female sexual abuse may be representative of only a small group of offenders and victims, the small numbers do warrant attention. It is through an examination of all types of child sexual abuse that we may increase our awareness and understanding of a complex issue.

It is also important to clarify that an experience of CSA does not necessarily cause an individual to become a child sex offender. While it appears that CSA is an important risk factor in the “cycle” of sexual abuse, research indicates that social, cultural, environmental, psychological and familial factors may contribute to, or protect a victim from, becoming an abuser. Overall, there is insufficient empirical research to indicate which risk factors are most important, or how they interact to result in CSA perpetration (Plummer & Cossins, 2016). Importantly, while the research outlined in this Chapter has acknowledged that various social factors may represent risk and protective factors for future CSA perpetration, there has been little acknowledgement of the fact that the lived experience of CSA itself may involve risk and protective factors that affect the later development of child sexually abusive behaviours in adulthood.

9 For example, Plummer and Cossins (2016) found substantial gaps in the extant CSA literature. The authors concluded that research into the cycle of CSA would benefit from further analysis of the relationship between various characteristics within a child’s abusive experience and subsequent child sex offending, such as the (i) frequency of abuse; (ii) gender of the abuser; (iii) closeness of the victim-offender relationship; (iv) abuse severity; and (v) nature of the grooming experience. It is, therefore, important to examine what it is about the experience of CSA that may be associated with later CSA perpetration among men. To “treat sexual abuse as a dichotomous variable (i.e. absent vs. present) is a gross oversimplification” that obscures the different situational characteristics of the lived experience of CSA, and implies that CSA is an unvaried and non-gendered experience (Gold, Hughes & Swingle, 1996, p.333). While it ignores the divergent experiences of boys and girls, which lead mostly male victims to become abusers of mostly female victims, it also ignores the divergent experiences between boys who are sexually abused.

Similarly, while previous research has identified that social factors may impact the transition from victim to offender, since, as discussed, these factors are equally likely to be present in the childhoods of sexually victimised boys and girls, they do not reveal why sexually victimised boys are more likely to become offenders than sexually victimised girls. By comparison, the social context in which abuse occurs, and the social context in which victims make sense of their abuse, may be highly influential on the transition from victim to offender (Cale, Leclerc, & Smallbone, 2014; Tang, Freyd & Wang, 2007). Arguably, the fact that men, but not women, are likely to perpetuate a cycle of CSA may be related to the different ways male victims perceive, and make sense of, their lived CSA experiences as a result of the different social contexts experienced by men and women, and among men (Cossins 2000; Messerschmidt 1993). Examining the social contexts in which men experience CSA, and in which they come to understand their experiences of abuse, may shed light on why a “cycle” of CSA only exists for a particular proportion of male CSA victims.

1.3 Aims of the Thesis and Research Methods The primary aim of this thesis is to identify the factors that may affect the transition from victim to offender among sexually victimised men. This thesis further aims to contribute to theoretical understandings of why there may be a cycle of CSA among men by investigating how the lived experiences of CSA differ among boys, particularly how boys perceive their CSA experiences and interpret them within their social environments, such that some become child sex offenders in adulthood.

10 To address the specifically gendered nature of the cycle of abuse, this research aims to determine which aspects of the experience of CSA (e.g. relationship to offender, age at onset, duration, grooming experiences) differ among boys, such that some boys are more likely to become child sexual offenders. The first research question, therefore, is:

What objective characteristics of boys’ experiences of CSA affect their likelihood of sexually abusing children in adulthood?

This Chapter demonstrated that since the social factors commonly associated with experiences of CSA are equally likely to be experienced by girls and boys, the social context in which abuse occurs, and in which abuse is subsequently understood by victims, may be significant for explaining the “cycle” of CSA. The present research will, therefore, consider the influence of social context on how a victim interprets their experience of sexual abuse, and how it affects their day-to-day interactions with family, peers, and broader social institutions. The second research question in this proposed research is:

Are there differences in the interpretation of their CSA experiences that affect the transition of victim to offender?

In-depth life history interviews with 10 non-offending CSA survivors and 8 offending CSA survivors will enable a qualitative analysis of the similarities and differences between offending and non-offending men’s experiences of CSA, their social contexts, and the ways in which they interpret their experiences. This methodological approach therefore provides the means to address both research questions posed in this thesis.

1.4 Significance of the Research The significance of the present study lies most fundamentally in its ability to contribute to understandings of the sexual abuse of children. As discussed, there is ambiguity in the literature about whether a “cycle” of CSA exists, and what factors impact this “cycle”. The importance of investigating the link between experiencing CSA and perpetrating CSA in adulthood lies in the potential insights to be gained from determining whether there is evidence to support a “cycle” of CSA, and if so, why this cycle only appears to exist among men. As Thomas and Fremouw (2009, p.386) argue,

11 Although it is only one deleterious effect of male CSA, the victim to offender cycle is of major importance. It not only affects the original and future CSA victims, but is also a serious social concern. A better understanding of the moderating factors will not only allow for better assessment and treatment of victims, but more accurate and proficient prediction of the victim to offender cycle.

In particular, the significance of the present study lies in its potential to address gaps in past research by approaching the analysis of CSA as a lived experience that varies from person to person. Little research has considered whether there are particular aspects of CSA experiences that increase a victim’s risk of becoming a child sex offender, or alternatively protect a victim from making that transition. It is possible that “the nature of the sexual abuse suffered in childhood is an important variable in predicting future sexual abuse perpetration” (Christopher et al 2007, p.871, emphasis added). Thus, the outcomes for CSA victims may be associated with various abuse characteristics that are experienced differently. Further still, there is a dearth of research that has considered how these aspects of abuse vary among male victims. Thus, the importance of the present research lies in its approach to analysing CSA as a varied experience among boys.

Finally, the significance of the present study lies in its potential to address the dearth of research that has analysed CSA victims’ perceptions of their abusive experience, and how these may impact their future outcomes. As discussed, many studies consider that social factors in addition to CSA may contribute to adult offending behaviours. But few have considered social factors not as additional risk factors to CSA perpetration, but as the context in which the lived experience of CSA occurs. Since victims’ social contexts will vary, especially according to gender, as well as age, race, class and other sources of difference (Connell, 2005; Daly, 2008), how victims perceive and make sense of their abuse within their social contexts may be an important link between experiencing and perpetrating CSA that has been overlooked in past research, and which this study aims to address.

12 1.5 Terminology Child Sexual Abuse (CSA). The term CSA refers to a wide range of behaviours, including both contact offences4 and non-contact offences5. Across studies, definitions of CSA can be extremely broad6 or extremely narrow7, and many variations in between. Some studies are careful to exclude voluntary sexual encounters between children, using definitions that define CSA as unwanted sexual activity, or only including instances where the perpetrator was at least five years older than the victim (Loeb et al., 2011). Although “consensual sexual activity between children is considered a normal part of development”, children may exert power over other children, so sexual activity between peers should not necessarily be excluded from studies of CSA (Wyatt & Peters 1986, p.238).

How CSA is defined can vastly impact study findings. A broad definition can increase prevalence rates, while a narrow definition can understate the extent of the types of offences that amount to sexual conduct with children. For example, in a study of a representative sample of students (n=1244), Kelly et al. (1991) found that when “a broad definition of sexual abuse ie any event/interaction that the young person reported as unwanted/abusive before they were 18” was used, “59 percent of women and 27 percent of men reported at least one such experience.” A more restrictive definition that excluded, for example, exhibitionism or attempts sexual abuse, reduced these rates substantially to 21 percent for women and 7 percent for men.

Similarly, the varied definitions of CSA can present challenges when comparing findings. As mentioned above, comparing prevalence estimates across studies can be challenging when studies variously use inclusive, restrictive, or ambiguous/ill-defined definitions that produce vastly different prevalence estimates. Of particular importance to the present study is the detail included in definitions of CSA across studies, namely the nature of victims’ experiences (e.g. age at onset, gender of abuser, duration, frequency, etc.). Restrictive definitions can overlook the nuances of victims’ CSA experiences which makes comparing the lived experiences of CSA challenging. For example, studies that only include restrictive definitions of CSA (such as those that define CSA as contact or penetrative abuse) overlook victims’ non-contact CSA experiences, including, for example, offenders’ grooming practices that are sexual in nature. Focusing only on contact abuse or penetrative abuse therefore leaves important elements of the abusive experience unaccounted for.

13 Since this study is concerned with victims’ perceptions and understandings of their abuse, this study will adopt a broad definition of CSA that encompasses experiences of both contact and non-contact abuse.

Child. Studies also vary in terms of how they define a “child” (Wyatt & Peters, 1986). For example, Swanston et al. (2003) defined children as those aged between 4 and 15. Widom (1989) only studied children aged 11 or younger, while Felson and Lane (2009) studied those aged younger than 18. Since the legal age of consent in most Australian jurisdictions is 16 years of age, however, “under age 16” is the definition of a “child” used in the present study.

Child Sexual Offender. A key issue in CSA research is the use of the term “paedophile”. While some studies do not differentiate between child sex offenders, other studies distinguish between victimisation that occurs within (intra-familial) and outside (extra-familial) of the home, and others separate paedophiles from other child sex offenders. Richards (2011, p.2) argues that while the terms “paedophile” and “child sex offender” are often used interchangeably, it is important to clarify that “the two terms have different meanings; not all child sex offenders are paedophiles and conversely, not all paedophiles are child sex offenders”. The key distinction Richards (2011) and others make is that paedophiles have a particular sexual interest in children (though may not necessarily act upon this interest), while child sex offenders “may have sexual interest in and/or offend against both children and adults, and/or may act out of opportunity rather than an exclusive sexual interest in children” (Richards, 2011, p.2).

It is, therefore, misleading to use the blanket term “pedophile” for all perpetrators of child sexual abuse. The use of inaccurate terminology is particularly evident in media representations of child sexual abuse and offending (Kitzinger, 2004; Landor &

4 For example, “fondling genitals, masturbation, oral sex, vaginal or anal penetration by a penis, finger or another object, fondling of breasts” (Price-Robertson, Bromfield & Vassallo 2010, p.17). 5 For example, “voyeurism, exhibitionism, and exposing the child to pornography” (Price- Robertson, Bromfield & Vassallo 2010, p.17). 6 For example, Maikovich-Fong & Jaffee (2010) defined CSA as including penetrative or non- penetrative acts, specified a wide variety of such acts, and included a range of other forms of maltreatment. 7 For example, Glasser et al (2001, p.483) purposely adopted a narrow definition of CSA where “a sexually mature individual involves developmentally immature children and adolescents in contact sexual activity (breast, oral, anal, or vaginal)”. 14 Eisenchlas, 2012; Tozdan, Briken, & Dekker, 2019). Kitzinger (2004, p.181) argues that the media play a key role in “constructing or maintaining ideas about certain ‘types of people’ (e.g. the paedophile)” (Kitzinger, 2004, p.181). Such stereotypes serve to “obscure the more common form of abuse; by known, trusted and ‘well-adjusted’ adults”, and fail to

confront the fact that child sexual abuse is overwhelmingly committed by men, and thus evade the questions about masculinity and male power that feminist analysis of sexual violence suggests we should address… The media, especially the tabloid press, tend to present sex offenders as very different from other men, and often imply that they are easily identifiable misfits… Feminist theorists point out that, in fact, one of the few things that distinguish people who commit sexual violence from people who do not, is that the former are usually male. Although women do sometimes commit sex crimes they are much less likely to do so. Feminists argue that this should have implications for how we theorise about sexual violence and how we analyse masculinity, sexuality and power (Brownmiller 1975). The media, however, mainly fail to engage in this debate (Kitzinger, 2004, p.125, 126).

Kitzinger (2004) suggests that because “public perceptions of abusers largely accord with media coverage” there are significant consequences when the media fail “to challenge specific conventional assumptions about abuse” (p142), not least of which is the dissemination of inaccurate and unhelpful conceptions of who abuses children.

Cossins (2000) raises similar concerns about referring to all child sex offenders as “pedophiles”, however contrary to the assertion that a distinction between types of child sexual abusers is necessary, Cossins (2000, p.31) suggests that the term “paedophile” is inappropriate to describe child sexual abusers for several reasons. Firstly, the term denotes a stereotypical characterisation that implies that there is a “typical” abuser, which has been shown to be untrue8. Secondly, the term has psychiatric connotations of abnormality and implies that sexual arousal to children is “deviant”. Cossins (2000, pp.64, 77) argues that distinguishing “deviant” offenders from the “normal” male population is problematic because prevalence studies indicate that CSA is not committed by a small sample of “deviants”, but is actually a widespread social phenomenon,

8 For example, Glasser et al. (2001, p.482) argue that “just as incest does not imply homogeneity neither does paedophilia”, and variations among offenders are still present. 15 primarily committed by men trusted within their communities. Thirdly, the term “paedophilia” implies that these offenders are solely sexually aroused by children, but research has shown that child sex offenders may also engage in sexual practices with adults (Cossins, 2000). Finally, the term “paedophile” focuses on individual factors contributing to the sexual abuse of children, which ignores the social context in which CSA occurs9 (Cossins, 2000).

Due to the contentious nature of the term “paedophile”, the present study will use the term “child sexual offender”, and will distinguish between intra-familial, extra-familial and female offenders when necessary for the purposes of comparing CSA survivors’ experiences.

Intra-Familial and Extra-Familial Abuse Intrafamilial CSA “involves a perpetrator from the child’s family, someone who is usually, although not always, living in the same house as the victim” (Fischer & McDonald, 1998, p.915). This may include parents, step-parents, grandparents, siblings, cousins, and other relatives. Extrafamilial abuse refers to abuse that is perpetrated by offenders who are not related to the victim, such as strangers, sports coaches, teachers or peers. Some research suggests that there are differences between the experiences of intrafamilial and extrafamilial abuse, such as the severity and duration of the abuse, and the age and gender of the victims (ABS, 2014; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Fischer & McDonald, 1998; Gordon, 1990; Spataro, 2002) (see also Chapter 2, section 2.3).

The long-term impacts of abuse have also been reported to differ between intrafamilial and extrafamilial abuse victims. For example, some studies suggest that victims may delay disclosure for longer periods of time when abused by an intrafamilial offender (Cossins, 2010; Freyd, 1994; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Kogan, 2003; McElvaney, 2015; Schaeffer, Leventhal, & Gottsegen-Asnes, 2011). Others have found that the experience of intrafamilial abuse may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender in adolescence or adulthood (Burton et al., 2002; Hershkowitz, 2014; Morais et el., 2018).

Since research suggests that there may be notable differences between the experiences of victims of intrafamilial and extrafamilial abuse, the findings in this study will be

9 As a result, Cossins (2000) argues that the term “focuses our attention on a kind of person rather than kinds of behaviour” (Kelly, 1996, p.45 in Cossins 2000, p.133).

16 considered with reference to whether participants experienced intrafamilial or extrafamilial CSA.

1.6 Structure of the Thesis This thesis begins by analysing the evidence for a “cycle” of CSA. It acknowledges the literature supporting this cycle, as well as the literature refuting it, to conclude that if a cycle of CSA exists, it only appears to exist among a particular proportion of sexually abused men.

Chapter 2, Factors Affecting the Transition from CSA Victim to Offender, critically examines the literature surrounding differences between boys’ and girls’ experiences of CSA in order to identify the CSA factors that are likely to affect the transition from victim to offender. This Chapter aims to determine whether there are identifiable gender differences in the patterns of abuse that lead more boys to become child sex offenders in adulthood than girls. Based on this review, five abuse characteristics are implicated in the transition from victim to offender. These abuse characteristics are investigated when offending and non-offending men are interviewed in this study to determine whether there are differences in the lived CSA experiences of boys that lead some to sexually abuse children in adulthood.

In Chapter 3, Theories of the Cycle of CSA, I develop the theoretical foundations for this thesis, by applying three theories of sex offending to the “cycle” of abuse specifically, rather than child sex offending more broadly: Social Learning Theory (SLT), the Pathways Model, and the Power-Powerlessness theory. By critically analysing the strengths and weaknesses of each theory, I suggest that since SLT and the Pathways Model are unable to adequately account for the gendered nature of the “cycle” of CSA, the Power-Powerlessness theory has the greatest potential to explain the transition from victim to offender among boys due to its ability to consider the broader social and cultural context in which CSA occurs. However, since the Power/Powerlessness theory has not previously been applied to the “cycle” of CSA, I suggest that the findings from the present study should nonetheless be considered in light of all three theoretical perspectives in Chapter 7.

Chapter 4, Research Design and Implementation, describes the qualitative methodological approach taken in this thesis, which involves in-depth life history interviews with 10 non-offending CSA survivors and 8 child sex offending CSA survivors. The benefits of this methodology for addressing the research questions, the approach

17 taken to recruitment and conduct of interviews, ethical factors inherent in qualitative research, and the importance of using a qualitative approach to develop a nuanced understanding of the experiences of victimised men are also addressed within this Chapter.

Chapter 5, The Lived Experiences of Non-Offending Victims, analyses the interview data from 10 non-offending male survivors of CSA. Key themes that arise from their narratives are discussed, including the characteristics of abuse, participants’ relationships with others throughout their lives, and their development and understandings of sexuality.

Chapter 6, The Lived Experiences of Offending Victims, analyses the interview data of 8 child sex offending survivors of CSA. Like the preceding Chapter, key themes that arise from participants’ narratives are discussed, including the characteristics of abuse, participants’ relationships with others throughout their lives, their development and understandings of sexuality, and their perceptions about, and experiences of, sexually abusing children in adulthood.

In Chapter 7, Explaining the Transition from Victim to Offender, the findings from the preceding two Chapters are compared and contrasted to develop an understanding of the factors that may affect the transition from survivor to offender. Based on this analysis, six factors are identified as potentially impacting the transition from victim to offender among men in the offender sample. The findings of the analysis are considered in light of the key theories discussed in Chapter 3 (Social Learning Theory, The Pathways Model, and Power/Powerlessness theory) in an effort to develop a thorough theoretical explanation for why some sexually victimised boys become child sex offenders in adolescence or adulthood.

Chapter 8, concludes the thesis by outlining the gaps that remain in understandings of the cycle of CSA, and points to the future of research into men’s experiences of CSA and of child sex offending.

18 Chapter 2: Factors Affecting the Transition from CSA Victim to Offender

Some studies suggest that “the harms of experiencing trauma early in life clearly manifests differently depending on the type of abuse experienced” such that child sexual abuse (CSA) is more likely to lead to child sex offending, while childhood physical abuse is more likely to lead to violent offending (Reckdenwald, Mancini, & Beauregard, 2013, p.476; Leibowitz, Burton & Howard, 2012). However, sexual offences against children involve considerable variation, and “might affect boys and girls differently,” according to: the victim’s age, gender of the abuser, relationship between the victim and abuser, grooming practices, severity and frequency of abuse, and experiences of disclosure (Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010, p.430; Beitchman, Zucker, Hood, daCosta, & Akman, 1991; Friedrich et al., 2001; Sanderson, 2004; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001; Williams, 2008).

Chapter 1 concluded that gender is one of the strongest predictors of who will perpetuate a cycle of CSA, yet few studies consider how abuse characteristics vary between male and female CSA experiences, and whether certain characteristics can be linked to subsequent child sex offending. Even less research has considered whether aspects of boys’ lived CSA experiences affect their likelihood of sexually abusing children in adolescence or adulthood. This chapter builds on the literature review conducted by Plummer and Cossins (2016) to document the characteristics of male and female CSA experiences. It aims to determine whether there are identifiable differences between boys’ and girls’ abuse experiences, and whether such differences are linked to subsequent psychological trauma, sexual aggression, and child sex offending among victimised boys.10

To examine the lived CSA experiences of boys and girls, and the factors that may impact the transition from survivor to offender, this chapter considers seven key characteristics

10 The methodological factors outlined in the limitations at the end of the chapter are considered throughout this literature review by evaluating the sample type (e.g. community, clinical, incarcerated), sample size, and the type of data (e.g. surveys, interviews, police or medical records) each study relies upon to draw their conclusions. Findings from large representative community samples are considered the most robust.

19 that have been documented in the literature as having an impact on the cycle of CSA, including:

x the age at abuse onset (Craissati et al., 2002; Cutajar, Mullen, Olgoff, Thomas, Wells, & Spataro, 2010; Cutajar, Ogloff & Mullen, 2011; Feiring, Taska, & Lewis, 1999; Papalia, Luebbers, Ogloff, Cutajar & Mullen, 2017; Stewart, Livingston & Dennison, 2008); x the duration and frequency of abuse (Burton, Miller & Shill, 2002; Beitchman et al., 1991; Hershkowitz, 2014; Nash, Zivney, & Hulsey, 1993; Lambie, Seymour & Adams, 2002; Ruggiero, McLeer, & Dixon, 2000); x the victim-offender relationship (Burton, Miller & Shill, 2002; Craissati et al., 2002; Gordon, 1990; Hershkowitz, 2014; Stirpe & Stirmac, 2002; Wyre, 2000); x the gender of the abuser (Burton et al., 2002; Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Craissati et al., 2002; Glasser et al., 2001; Harris & Mayba, 2017; Kobayashi et al., 1995; McGuffey, 2008); x the acts and severity of abuse (Burton et al., 2002; Beitchman et al., 1991; Burton et al., 2002; Heath et al., 1996; Hershkowitz, 2014); x grooming experiences (Craven, Brown & Gilchrist, 2007; Hall et al., 1998; Holmes & Slap, 1998; Lambie et al., 2002); and x experiences of abuse disclosure (Bagley et al., 1994; Hunter & Figeuredo, 2000; Vaillancourt-Morel et al., 2015).

2.1 Age at Onset of Abuse

There are inconsistent findings about the ages at which boys and girls are most likely to experience CSA. Among community samples, boys are reported to be older than girls at the time of first abuse, with Gordon (1990) reporting that boys were older than girls at abuse onset in a community sample of 585 sexually victimised men and women. Similarly, Faller (1989) reported that the average age of abuse onset for boys was 6.3 years, compared to 5.5 years for girls among a clinical sample of 87 boys and 226 girls with substantiated experiences of CSA. Other clinical samples have also reported that girls are significantly younger than boys at abuse onset (Hickey et al., 2008).

In contrast to the above trend, Fischer and McDonald (1998) found, among 1,037 substantiated cases of CSA identified from police records, that boys were younger than girls at the time of first abuse, irrespective of whether they were abused by an intra-

20 familial offender (mean age for boys was 5.3 years compared to 7.4 for girls) or extra- familial offender (mean age for boys was 7.3 years compared to 10.5 for girls). Goldman and Padayachi (1997) also reported that boys (mean age 9) were younger at abuse onset than girls (mean age 10) in a sample of 427 university students. Other studies have reported no difference in the age of abuse onset between boys and girls. Among a large community sample of 1,145 men, and 1,481 women, Finkelhor et al. (1990) found that the median age of abuse onset for boys was 9.9 years, and 9.6 years for girls, while among a sample of 80 men and women presenting to a community health centre for counselling, Briere, Evans, Runtz, and Wall (1988) found no difference in the mean age of onset between boys (9 years) and girls (9.6 years).

These contradictory findings are likely to be the result of methodological differences related to the sample type and size in different studies (Fischer & McDonald, 1998; Goldman & Padayachi, 1997; Gordon, 1990; Plummer & Cossins, 2016). The larger, more representative community samples, however, suggest that abuse is likely to begin at comparable ages for boys and girls (Finkelhor et al., 1990), or that boys are likely to be older than girls at abuse onset (Gordon, 1990). An older age at abuse has been found to have strong predictive value with respect to subsequent sexual offending behaviours (Craissati et al., 2002; Cutajar, Mullen, Olgoff, Thomas, Wells, & Spataro, 2010; Cutajar, Ogloff & Mullen, 2011; Feiring, Taska, & Lewis, 1999; Papalia, Luebbers, Ogloff, Cutajar & Mullen, 2017; Plummer & Cossins, 2016). In a prospective non-clinical nationwide sample of children, Hershkowitz (2014) compared 157 male CSA survivors who developed sexually intrusive behaviours before the age of 14 (ranging from fondling a victim’s sexual organs over clothes, to penetrative abuse) with 157 male CSA survivors who did not. The author found that boys who developed sexually intrusive behaviours were significantly older, more often 10 years or older, at the onset of abuse than those who did not develop these behaviours (p<.001).

Similarly, in a 45-year follow up study involving a large sample of 2,759 substantiated cases of CSA, which were compared to a large (n=2677) comparison group matched for age and gender, Ogloff et al. (2012, p.3-4) found that 9.2 percent of boys who had experienced CSA at 12 years of age or older were later convicted of a sexual offence, while only 2.9 percent of boys abused under the age of 12, and 0.1 percent of girls abused at any age, were subsequently convicted of a sexual offence. They concluded that “sexual victimisation may be an important risk factor for this population (but not for females),” because psychosexual development is a “hallmark feature” of this age group. The psychological effects of abuse at this age were also discussed by Feiring, Taska

21 and Lewis (1999), who, in a clinical sample of 169 sexually victimised children (aged 8- 11 years) and adolescents (aged 12-15 years), found more pervasive psychological distress symptoms among victimised adolescents than children.

These studies indicate that abuse during later childhood or adolescence (over the age of 10) may be associated with more negative psychological outcomes, and an increased likelihood of a boy becoming a sexual offender in adolescence or adulthood (Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Cutajar et al., 2010; Feiring, Taska & Lewis, 1999; Ogloff et al., 2012; Sanderson, 2004).

2.2 Duration & Frequency of Abuse

Research consistently shows that girls experience longer durations of abuse than boys (Kendall-Tackett & Simon, 1992; Ullman & Filipas, 2005; Wellman, 1993). Among a sample of 733 college students, Ullman and Filipas (2005) found that female students more often reported prolonged CSA experiences (average duration of 2.21 years) than male students (average duration of 1.61 years), with abuse duration measured as the number of years the abuse lasted (p=.011). In a clinical sample of 452 sexually abused children aged 3 to 17 years (131 boys and 321 girls), Mok (1996) found that girls experienced a significantly longer duration of abuse (average duration of 2.19 years) than boys (average duration of 1.32 years) (p<0.01).

Despite girls being more likely to experience a longer duration of abuse than boys, a longer duration of CSA has been linked to negative outcomes for victims in a number of studies (Beitchman, et al., 1991; Burton et al., 2002; Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010). For example, among a sample of 216 sexually victimised adolescent sexual offenders and 93 sexually victimised adolescent non-sexual offenders, Burton, Miller and Shill (2002) found that the sex offenders were more likely to have suffered a longer duration of CSA than non-sexually offending adolescents. Similarly, based on interviews with 74 adolescent male sex offenders, 68 of whom had experienced sexual abuse in childhood, Veneziano, Veneziano, and LeGrand (2000, p.372) concluded that because CSA is often progressive, a longer duration of abuse may lead to more severe forms of abuse, and this may affect the “subsequent sexual abuse of others”. However, others have found no link between the duration of abuse and subsequent child sex offending (Lambie, Seymour & Adams, 2002; Ogloff et al., 2012; Salter et al., 2003). Among their large community sample of 2,759 sexually victimised men (n=558) and women (n=2,201),

22 Ogloff et al. (2012) did not find a significant link between abuse duration and subsequent sex offending.

Other researchers have suggested that the frequency of abuse, rather than duration, may be a more important predictor of later negative outcomes, including sexually abusive behaviours against others (Beitchman et al., 1991; Hershkowitz, 2014; Hunter and Figueredo, 2000; LeClerc & Cale, 2015; Nash, Zivney, & Hulsey, 1993; Plummer & Cossins, 2016; Ruggiero, McLeer, & Dixon, 2000). Among a community sample of 750 males aged 18 to 27 years, Bagley, Wood, and Young (1994, p.690) found that those who had experienced more frequent instances of CSA were most likely to have “recent or on-going sexual contact with an under-aged person.” Holmes and Slap’s (1998) review of 166 studies into male CSA also revealed that chronic abuse was one of the strongest predictors of later coercive sexual acts against others among male CSA victims.

Thus, while girls’ CSA experiences are more likely to involve frequent abuse (Briere et al., 1988; Wellman, 1993), the link between a higher frequency of abuse and the transition from victim to offender among victimised boys is well established among community and incarcerated samples. What this suggests is that boys who experience a higher frequency of abuse are more likely to perpetuate a cycle of CSA. An alternative explanation, however, is that boys are more likely than girls to develop sexually abusive behaviour. Among a clinical sample of 273 youths aged 5 to 18 who had experienced CSA and went on to exhibit sexually victimising behaviours against others, McClellan, McCurry, Ronnei, Adams, Storck, Eisner and Smith (1997, p.959) concluded that “boys appear to have a lower threshold of abuse exposure required to develop sexually inappropriate behaviours and are significantly more likely to display victimizing behaviours.” In this study, although girls experienced more frequent abuse, sexually victimised boys were significantly more likely to develop victimising sexual behaviours (such as molestation, incest, and/or rape) (27% of boys vs. 18% of girls, p<.0005), while girls were more likely to develop reactive sexual behaviours (such as flirting and inappropriate touching of others).

Research therefore suggests that although boys may experience less frequent CSA incidents than girls, girls and boys develop different kinds of sexualised behaviour as a result of the frequency of abuse, with boys’ subsequent behaviours being more abusive than girls’. It is possible that boys who experience relatively more frequent CSA may be more likely to develop sexually abusive behaviours.

23 2.3 Relationship between the Victim & their Abuser

Numerous studies consider the relationship between victims and their abusers to be an integral aspect of the lived experience of CSA, since “differences in the profiles of the male and female victims of sexual abuse relate in a fundamental way to their relationship with the abuser” (Gordon, 1990, p.30). While CSA is most often perpetrated by a person known to the victim, research consistently indicates that girls are more likely than boys to be abused by a an older family member (including parents, step parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts) (ABS, 2014; Faller, 1989; Feiring, Taska & Lewis, 1999; Finkelhor, Hotaling, Lewis, & Smith, 1990; Gold, Hughes, & Swingle, 1996; Gordon, 1990; Herbert et al., 2006; Ketring & Feinauer, 1999; Keyser-Marcus et al., 2015; Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010; Mohler-Kuo et al., 2014; Plummer & Cossins, 2016; Salter et al., 2003). Among a community sample (n=585) Gordon (1990) found that girls (30.27%) were twice as likely as boys (14.29%) to be abused by relatives. Among a clinical sample of 982 male (n=743) and female (n=239) CSA victims, Spataro (2002) found that girls were significantly more likely than boys to be abused by a biological grandparent (4.3% of girls, 1.8% of boys,) or stepparent (14.3% of girls, 10% of boys) (p=.01).

By comparison, boys are more likely to be abused by a non-familial abuser who is known to the child (ABS, 2014; Faller, 1989; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; Kobayashi et al., 1995; Ogloff et al., 2012; Plummer & Cossins, 2016). When boys are abused by relatives their abusers are more likely to be family members closer in age to themselves, such as siblings (Cashmore & Shackel, 2014; Craissati et al., 2002; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; Mok, 1996; Spataro, 2002; Whealin et al., 2007). Faller (1989) found that boys were more likely than girls to be victimised by non-related authority figures among a clinical sample of 87 boys and 226 girls with substantiated CSA experiences. Based on findings from a national survey of 2,626 sexually victimised men and women, Finkelhor et al. (1990) found that boys were more likely than girls to be abused by younger offenders, including older adolescents, older siblings or cousins.

Abuse by a relative has been associated with psychological trauma and sexual offending behaviours, since “the type of relationship with the abuser will often determine the nature of the experience for the child and influence whether or not the child is likely to be predisposed to abusing children in adolescence or adulthood” (Wyre, 2000, p.98). Consistent with this, Burton et al. (2002) found that abuse by a parent or other relative was more common among victimised male adolescent child sex offenders (n=216) than

24 victimised male adolescent non-child sex offenders (n=93) among a clinical sample. Similarly, in a prospective non-clinical nationwide sample of sexually victimised children who either did (n=157) or did not (n=157) develop sexually intrusive behaviours before age 14 (ranging from fondling a victim’s sexual organs over clothes to penetrative abuse), Hershkowitz (2014) found that boys abused by more closely related offenders (including parents or other relatives) were more likely to develop sexually intrusive behaviours than boys who were abused by more distant offenders (p<.001).

Conversely, CSA perpetrated by non-relatives has also been linked to the transition from victim to offender (Craissati et al., 2002). Evidence of trauma was found to increase when the abuser was less familiar to the victim among DeJong et al.’s (1983) clinical sample of 416 victimised boys and girls. Non-coercive sexual victimization by an older male nonfamily member was associated with later sexual interest in and offending against male children among a sample of 187 juvenile child sex offenders (Hunter et al., 2003). Similarly, among sexually victimised male offenders, including 33 child sex offenders, 66 violent offenders, and 25 non-violent offenders, Stirpe and Stermac (2003) found that child sexual offenders were more likely than violent or non-violent offenders to have been abused by acquaintances (62.5%) rather than family members (22.5%) or strangers (15.0%).

Since no representative community samples link boys’ relationships with their abusers to future child sex offending, it is possible that the victim-offender relationship is unconnected to the development of sexually abusive behaviours (Lambie et al., 2002). In other words, abuse by either familial or non-familial offenders may be equally likely to impact the transition from victim to offender. However, when distinguishing between familial and non-familial offenders, researchers often comment on the closeness of the victim-offender relationship (e.g. Burton et al., 2002; Herbert et al., 2006; Plummer & Cossins, 2016), which has been found to predict more psychological trauma in CSA victims (Herbert et al., 2006; Kendall-Tackett, Williams, & Finkelhor, 1993). Yet defining a “close” victim-offender relationship to be one that involves a familial abuser obscures the degree of emotional involvement that a victim may experience in that relationship. Artime et al. (2014, p.319) consider the “gross categorization of perpetrators as “family members” or “nonfamily members” to be inadequate, since their study of a community sample of male survivors of CSA (n=136) revealed that “CSA perpetrated by a distant uncle is clearly a different experience from CSA perpetrated by a parent.” Among a large student sample of 71,594 men and women, Wagman Borowsky, Hogan and Ireland (1997) found that men with histories of CSA were twice as likely as those without

25 histories of CSA to sexually offend, regardless of whether the victim-offender relationship was intra- or extra-familial. This led the authors to conclude that “the pattern of sexual abuse may continue if a child identifies closeness, acceptance, and affection with inappropriate sexual activity” (p.7).

Overall, while girls’ abuse is more likely to be perpetrated by relatives significantly older than themselves, boys are more likely to experience abuse by relatives similar in age to themselves, or by non-familial offenders (often authority figures). Because perpetrators “tend to target emotionally needy, vulnerable children, exploiting not only their sexuality, but their needs for attention and affection” (Paine & Hansen, 2002, p.282), the emotional closeness of that relationship as perceived by the victim, or the degree of closeness that is developed as a result of grooming practices (see section 2.6), may be more influential on the transition from victim to offender than the distinction between familial and non- familial abusers, since among boys “betrayal by a known, trusted abuser is more aversive” (Williams, 2008, p.45). However, as noted by Plummer & Cossins (2016) and Berman and Knight (2014, p.3), “the conceptualization of the closeness of a relationship between the one who perpetrates CSA and the child victim has remained largely unexplored.” The present study will examine the impact of the victim-offender relationship to address this gap in the research.

2.4 Gender of the Abuser

Although most child sex offenders are men (Burton et al., 2002; Cossins, 2000; Faller, 1989; Gordon, 1990; Hamby, Finkehor & Turner, 2013; Richards, 2011; ABS, 2015), there is a growing body of research addressing CSA perpetrated by women (Elliott, 1993; Denov, 2004; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; McLeod, Natale & Johnson, 2015; Robinson, 1998). While female perpetrated CSA (FPCSA) is “often perceived by the general public to be less harmful and less serious than sexual abuse by males”, the literature in this area indicates that the nature and severity of FPCSA, and the psychosexual impacts of this type of abuse, “are often similar to those perpetrated by males” (Clements, 2014, p,198; Denov, 2004; Dube et al., 2005; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Etherington, 1997; Kelly et al., 2002; Kramer & Bowman, 2011; Krug, 1989; Nathan & Ward, 2002; Peter, 2009; Robinson, 1998; Tsopelas, Tsetsou, Ntounas, & Douzenis, 2012).

Based on the extant literature on FPCSA, Lawson (1993, p.266) developed a theoretical model of maternal sexual abuse that describes five types of CSA perpetrated by mothers:

26 1. Subtle abuse that “may not intentionally be sexual in nature, but serve[s] to meet the parent’s emotional and/or sexual needs at the expense of the child’s emotional and/or developmental needs”; 2. Seductive abuse that “is inappropriate for the child’s age and/or is motivated by the parent’s sexual needs”; 3. Perversive abuse that includes “behaviour that is intended to emasculate and humiliate the child’s sexuality”; 4. Overt sexual abuse that includes “overtly sexualized contact between mother and son. Behaviours included are: intercourse, cunnilingus, anilingus, fellatio, genital fondling, digital penetration, clothed or unclothed touching of genitals, lingering sexualised kissing or hugging, intentional genital exposure, and direct exposure to adult sexual activity”; 5. Sadistic sexual abuse, which includes “maternal sexual behaviour that is intended to hurt the child and may be part of a general pattern of severe physical and emotional abuse”. It is clear from Lawson’s model that women perpetrate CSA of a similar nature to men, with abuse ranging from “subtle” to “sadistic”.

The literature also demonstrates that the long-term effects of FPCSA, particularly maternal CSA, are similar to those for male-perpetrated CSA, including relationship problems, in particular issues in maintaining long-term relationships (Elliott, 1993; Kelly et al., 2001; Krug, 1989; Lawson, 1991), depression (Denov, 2004; Krug, 1989), drug and alcohol abuse (Denov, 2004; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Elliott, 1993; Krug, 1989; Tsopelas et al., 2012), self-harm (Denov, 2004; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Elliott, 1993); unresolved anger, shame, confusion and guilt (Denov, 2004; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Elliott, 1993; Etherington, 1997; Tsopelas et al., 2012); fear of, or actually, becoming a child sex offender (Denov, 2004; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Elliott, 1993; Etherington, 1997) and issues with sexual identity (Denov, 2004; Elliott, 1993; Krug, 1989).

Despite substantial similarities between the nature of the abuse perpetrated by male and female offenders, the literature highlights some key differences. First, female offenders more often perpetrate intrafamilial abuse rather than extrafamilial abuse, and a high proportion of female offenders sexually abuse their own children (Hendricks & Bijleveld, 2006; Lawson, 1991; McLeod, 2015; McLeod & Craft, 2015; Peter, 2009).

A second key difference is that while women may perpetrate CSA alone, they are more likely than male offenders to do so with a male partner (Elliott, 1993; Faller, 1989;

27 Gannon & Rose, 2008; Nathan & Ward, 2002; Kaufman, Wallace, Johnson, & Reeder, 1995; Peter, 2009; Rudin, Zalewski & Bodmer-Turner, 1995; Robinson, 1998; Tozdan et al., 2019). Rudin, Zalewski and Bodmer-Turner (1995) found that women abused children with male partners in 50 percent to 77 percent of cases involving a female offender in a public health sample of 211 male and female CSA victims and 253 male and female child sex offenders. In a clinical sample of 53 female and 53 male child sex offenders matched for age, race and sex, Kaufman et al. (1995) found that 25 percent of FPCSA was undertaken with one or more male co-offenders.

Finally, although women may sexually abuse both boys and girls (Deering & Mellor, 2007; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Elliott, 1993; Matthews, Hunter & Vuz, 1997; Nathan & Ward, 2002; Vandiver, 2006), the CSA literature indicates that cases of CSA perpetrated by female offenders are more likely to involve the abuse of boys than girls (Bendixen et al., 1994; Dube, Anda, Whitfield, Brown, Felitti, Dong, & Giles, 2005; Faller, 1989; Krause & Roth, 2011; Peter, 2009; Schaeffer, Mundt, Ahlers, & Bahis, 2012; Tsopelas, Tsetsou, Ntounas, & Douzenis, 2012). In a clinical sample of 87 male victims and 226 female victims, Faller (1989) found that while only a small proportion of children are victimised by women, boys were ten times more likely than girls to be abused by women. Similarly, among a nationally representative sample of 6,787 ninth-grade students, Mohler-Kuo et al. (2014) found that 62.7 percent of boys but only 1.9 percent of girls experienced penetrative abuse by female offenders, and 80.8 percent of boys, but only 4.7 percent of girls experienced contact CSA without penetration by female offenders.

The abuser’s gender has been linked to the transition from victim to offender in numerous studies of incarcerated and clinical samples (Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Glasser et al., 2001; Harris & Mayba, 2017; Salter et al., 2003). In a retrospective clinical case note review of 843 subjects, Glasser et al. (2001, p.493) suggested that “CSA committed by a female perpetrator appears to be a risk factor for a cycle of abuse in males,” since the transition from victim to offender was associated with abuse by a mother or a sister. Similarly, Briggs and Hawkins (1996) found that the transition from victim to offender was associated with sexual abuse by a female relative, rather than a male relative or non- relative, when they compared the experiences of 84 victimised male sex offenders with 95 victimised non-offenders. Similarly, in a study of a clinical sample of 224 adults who had experienced CSA, Salter et al. (2003) found that twice as many victims who became child sex offenders (38%) experienced CSA perpetrated by a female offender compared to victims who did not become child sex offenders (17%).

28 Despite boys being more likely than girls to be abused by women, boys’ abusers are most often men, and sexual abuse by male offenders has also been linked to child sex offending in clinical and incarcerated samples (Craissati et al., 2002; McGuffey, 2008). Based on the findings from a sample of 216 adolescent sex offenders who had experienced CSA, and 93 non-offending CSA survivors, Burton et al. (2002) concluded that the gender of the perpetrator and the degree of force used in the abuse were most predictive of sex offender status. Sexual offenders who were victimised as children were more likely than victimised non-offenders to have experienced abuse by a male perpetrator, or by both male and female perpetrators. Similarly, among a clinical sample of 117 adolescent male sex offenders, Kobayashi et al. (1995) found that experiencing sexual abuse by a male perpetrator significantly predicted subsequent sexual aggression during adolescence, while experiencing sexual abuse by a female perpetrator did not (p<.01). The authors attributed this to CSA perpetrated by men being significantly more coercive than female-perpetrated CSA (p=.002).

Research, therefore, indicates that abuse by men, women, or both men and women may predict future child sex offending by victimised boys. However, there is little evidence to suggest that abuse by multiple abusers contributes to a cycle of CSA. For example, in a study of 33 child sex offenders, 66 violent offenders, and 25 non-violent offenders, all of whom had been sexually abused, Stirpe and Stermac (2003) found no differences between groups in terms of experiencing CSA perpetrated by men (65.8%), women (28.9%) or both men and women (5.3%). Similarly, in Ogloff et al.’s (2012) longitudinal study of 2,759 substantiated cases of CSA (compared to a comparison group matched for age and gender), the authors examined the effects of age at abuse onset, penetration, frequency of abuse, and number of perpetrators on the transition from victim to offender. The authors found no evidence for a link between experiencing abuse by multiple offenders and the transition from victim to offender.

While this finding suggests that the abuser’s gender does not independently impact the transition from victim to offender, this overlooks the sociocultural and psychosexual implications of the gender of a victimised boy’s abuser (Briere et al., 1988; Finkelhor & Browne, 1985; Fondacaro, Holt, & Powell, 1999; Herbert, Tremblay, Parent, Daignault, & Piche, 2006). Abuse by male perpetrators has been reported to result in male victims experiencing confusion and anxiety over sexual identity, and in “inappropriate attempts to reassert masculinity,” including sexual aggression against others (Kobayashi et al., 1995, p.30; Gartner, 2000; Whealin et al., 2007). When boys are abused by women, they are likely to hold conflicting views about the abusive nature of their experience, since

29 sexual behaviour with an older female is considered not only acceptable but desirable in a culture where men are expected to willingly partake in early (hetero)sexual experiences (Artime et al., 2014; Duncan & Duncan, 2010; Gartner, 2000; Harris & Mayba, 2017; Richards, 2011; Rudin et al., 1995; Senn et al., 2007; Speigel, 2003).

Research into female sex offending also suggests there is a tendency to minimise FPCSA by professionals (e.g. legal, health, or social care professionals) and society more broadly (Clements, 2014; Deering & Mellor, 2009; Denov, 2004; McLeod & Craft, 2015; Mellor & Deering, 2010; Robinson, 1998). In a review of the female sex offender literature, Clements et al. (2014, p.210) found that while professionals broadly recognised FPCSA “as a serious issue… there was a general trend across studies to minimise the gravity and impact of FP[C]SA particularly when compared to abuse perpetrated by males.”

Social understandings of, and reactions to, FPCSA also appear to influence how victims perceive and make sense of their abuse (Clements, 2014; Denov, 2004). Although many such victims report negative long term consequences including “substance abuse, self- injury, suicide, depression, rage, strained relationships with women, self-concept and identity issues, and a discomfort with sex”, some victims describe either mixed emotions (both positive and negative) or positive experiences (Denov, 2004, p1137; Clements, 2014; Elliott, 1993; Kelly et al., 2002). In a study of a representative sample of 4,549 children aged 1 to 17, Hamby et al. (2013) found that “many youth do not experience statutory rape as a victimisation” when their abuser is female (p<.001). Fondacaro, Holt and Powell (1999) also found that 41 percent of an incarcerated sample of men (n=211) did not view themselves as having been abused, despite their self-reported experiences meeting the standard criteria for CSA.11 The authors concluded that “the perception of abuse may be related to the gender of the victim and perpetrator,” since men are “less likely to react negatively to the impact of heterosexual abuse” (Fondacaro et al., 1999, p.367).

11 The standard criteria for CSA employed by Fondacaro, Holt and Powell (1999, p.364) was based on questions developed by Finkelhor (1979): “I’m going to read a list of sexual activities that might have occurred between you and someone older when you were a child (under 16). Please answer yes if the activity occurred with anyone who was 5 years older than you, including relatives: (1) hug/kiss in a sexual way; (2) showing of genitals; (3) caressing non-genital parts; (4) touching genitals with hands; (5) attempted intercourse anal/vaginal; (6) completed intercourse anal/vaginal”. 30 Accordingly, research indicates that the gender of a boy’s abuser may impact the transition from victim to offender if it influences his perceptions of early sexual experiences as abusive (Gartner, 2000, p.7, 9). Like Fondacaro et al. (1999), Gartner (2000, p.7, 9) suggests that while “a boy who has been abused may not feel traumatized,” he may still demonstrate psychological sequelae “suggesting that the experiences had abusive and traumatizing aspects.” For some boys, the trauma resulting from CSA may be expressed as child sex offending behaviours. When Briggs and Hawkins (1996) found that child sex offenders who had experienced CSA tended to view their abuse as “normal” and quite positive, they concluded that a cycle of CSA may be perpetuated by “men who normalise their own experience of sexual abuse” more so than victims who do not (Briggs & Hawkins 1996, p.231). Similarly, in a community sample of 43 men who reported childhood sexual experiences, Holmes (2008, p.94) concluded that “there are substantial liabilities in not only experiencing CSA, but also in not defining it as such”, since significantly more sexual risk behaviours were found among the 35 percent of men who did not define their experience as abusive. In a clinical sample of 77 men with histories of CSA, Kelly et al. (2002) found that men were unlikely to view some experiences of CSA as abusive, especially mother-son CSA. Those who did not view their experience as abusive had more adjustment problems and psychological trauma than men who viewed their experiences negatively.

In summary, boys’ and girls’ may be abused by men, women, or both men and women, though boys are more likely than girls to experience CSA that involves abuse by a female offender. The psychological and criminological literature suggests that while men may normalise their abusive experiences in some circumstances, they may still suffer significant trauma which may be expressed as sexual offending behaviours. Arguably, boys who perpetuate a cycle of CSA may experience more psychological trauma from their abuse (such as anxiety over sexual identity when abused by a man, trauma as a result of normalising abuse by a female abuser), than boys who don’t perpetuate the cycle, which may be related to, but not dependent upon, the gender of their abuser.

2.5 Nature & Severity of Abuse

Research indicates that the most common types of non-contact and non-penetrative sexual activities reported to have been experienced by both boys and girls include exhibition of sexual organs, kissing, hugging, and fondling (Goldman & Padayachi, 1997; Ullman & Filipas, 2005). Nonetheless, boys’ and girls’ experiences of these types of abuse vary. For example, among a large community sample of 585 men and women,

31 Gordon (1990) found that girls were more likely to report having been the victim of exhibitionism, while in a student sample of men (n=140) and women (n=287) aged 17 to 49, Goldman and Padayachi (1997) reported higher rates of women (23%) experiencing an exhibitionistic display of an abuser’s genitals compared to men (11%), but almost equivalent numbers of men and women experiencing unwanted hugging, kissing and fondling.

Boys’ and girls’ experiences of penetrative abuse are also reported to vary. Early studies report boys’ abuse as being more serious or severe than girls’, often involving penetration and force (Gordon, 1990; Pierce & Pierce, 1985). Among Gordon’s (1990) community sample (n=585), men experienced more serious abuse involving penetration and force, while women were more likely to experience fondling or exhibitionism. Among another large nationally representative community sample of 2,626 men and women, Finkelhor et al. (1990) found that male victims (62%) had experienced more intrusive abuse, including actual or attempted intercourse, than female victims (49%). A further random community sample (n=475) revealed a significantly higher proportion of men than women experienced anal abuse (Ketring & Feinhauer, 1999). These findings are replicated in clinical samples (Kendall-Tackett & Simon, 1992).

More recently, studies of institutional abuse have highlighted the severity of boys’ experiences of CSA (Kenny, 2017; Wolfe, Francis & Straatman, 2006). For example, 78 percent of the 4,444 victims who gave evidence to the recent Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse in Australia were men (Kenny, 2017). Ponton & Goldstein’s (2004) analysis of 26 boys and men who experienced clerical abuse revealed that such abuse is often serious (50% of cases involved oral penetration; 31% involved anal penetration; 50% involved physical force), and prolonged (average duration of approximately 2 years).

In contrast to these findings, the CSA literature commonly reports that girls are more likely than boys to experience more serious forms of abuse such as penetration (Feiring, Taska & Lewis, 1999; Fontanella et al., 2000; Goldman & Padayachi, 1997; Hickey et al., 2008; Levesque, 1994; Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010; Najman et al., 2005; Senn et al., 2007). An Australian review of prevalence studies estimated that 7 to 12 percent of girls, compared to 4 to 8 percent of boys, experienced penetrative CSA (Price- Robertson, Bromfield & Vassallo, 2010). Among two large national samples of Australian men and women Dunne, Purdie, Cook, Boyle, and Najman (2003) (n=1784) and Najman et al. (2005) (n=2950) found that women experienced significantly more penetrative CSA

32 (12%) than men (4%) (p<.001). The findings from these representative community samples are supported among clinical (Briere et al., 1988) and student (Goldman & Padayachi, 1997) samples.

Despite some research indicating that girls are more likely than boys to experience more serious forms of abuse, the link between abuse severity and the transition from victim to offender has been established among adolescent offenders in clinical and non-clinical samples (Beitchman et al., 1991; Burton et al., 2002; Heath et al., 1996). In a prospective study involving a nonclinical nationwide sample of children, Hershkowitz (2014) compared 157 male survivors of CSA who developed sexually intrusive behaviours before age 14 with 157 male survivors of CSA who did not. The author found that boys who developed sexually intrusive behaviours (26.8%) were more likely to have experienced more severe acts of sexual abuse, often involving penetration, than those who did not develop these behaviours (17.2%) (p<.028). Burton et al. (2002) also reported that sexually victimised male adolescent sex offenders (n=216) were more likely to report having experienced severe abuse than non-offending sexually victimised male adolescents (n=93) (penetrative abuse was classified as the most severe).

Among samples of adult offenders, however, abuse severity has not been linked to the transition from victim to offender. Salter et al.’s (2003) longitudinal study involving a clinical sample of 224 male CSA victims revealed that more invasive or severe abuse, defined as acts of penetration, did not contribute to child sex offending in adulthood, while only 15% of Simons et al.’s (2008) incarcerated sample of 132 male child sex offenders had experienced serious CSA (defined as forced anal intercourse).

Conflicting findings about the link between abuse severity and subsequent offending suggest that abuse severity may be related to the transition from victim to offender among adolescent, but not adult, child sex offenders. Severe forms of CSA12 may, therefore, lead to an early onset of child sex offending, while both severe and less severe forms of CSA may be implicated in child sex offending in adulthood. However, these conflicting findings may also result from the lack of an empirically determined system of classification for abuse severity (Loeb et al., 2009). By focusing on penetration or force, what victims experience as more severe may not be embodied by researchers’ measures of severity (Burton, 2003). Young, Riggs and Robinson (2011, p.384) argue

12 Severe forms of abuse were determined in the cited studies primarily based on the acts of abuse themselves, with fondling considered the least severe, and penetration with force considered the most severe. 33 that a measure of severity needs to capture “the most painful and significant aspects of the CSA experience”. For example, CSA involving force by someone who is well-known by the victim “becomes a frightening, shameful and isolating experience” that is not taken into account by basic measures of severity such as penetration. Accordingly, the impact of abuse severity (i.e. penetration or force) on the transition from victim to offender should be considered with respect to other abuse characteristics, such as the victim-offender relationship.

2.6 Grooming

Although definitions of sexual grooming vary within the literature (Bennett & O’Donohue, 2014; McAlinden, 2006) Craven, Brown and Gilchrist (2006) developed their definition from a comprehensive review of the extant grooming literature:

a process by which a person prepares a child, significant adults and the environment for the abuse of this child. Specific goals include gaining access to the child, gaining the child’s compliance and maintaining the child’s secrecy to avoid disclosure (p.297).

Gaining access. Grooming often begins with victim selection, and with an offender determining how to gain access to that victim (Katz & Barnetz, 2016; McAlinden, 2006; Olsen, Daggs, Ellevold, & Rogers, 2007; Plummer, 2018). In cases of intra-familial abuse, victim selection may be based on availability (e.g. children within the home), while in cases of extra-familial abuse, offenders may consider the child’s personal vulnerabilities (e.g. appearance or temperament) and situational vulnerabilities (e.g. the degree of support or parental supervision offered to the child) (Campbell, 2009; Colton, Roberts & Vanstone, 2010; Conte, Wolf, & Smith, 1989; Elliott, Brown & Kilcoyne, 1995; Plummer, 2018). For intra-familial offenders who “will already be known and physically proximate to the child” (McAlinden, 2013, p.4), access is likely to be facilitated by isolating the child from other family members by “being at home alone” (Smallbone & Wortley, 2001, p.4) or “sneaking” into the child’s bedroom (Lang & Frenzel, 1988, p.308). Extra-familial offenders often require more calculated approaches for accessing children, which may be facilitated by their involvement in organisational contexts, such as religious institutions, schools, sports associations, or residential care facilities (Hartill, 2009; Holt & Massey, 2012; Gallagher, 2000; LeClerc & Cale, 2015; Plummer, 2018). Sullivan and Beech (2004) reported that 15 percent of 41 child sex offenders in their sample

34 specifically chose to work with children to enable access, while 41.5 percent noted that access to children contributed to their decision to work with children.

Gaining compliance. Strategies to gain compliance include the use of bribes (gifts, treats, outings), isolation from support, sexual desensitisation, and/or coercion (Plummer, 2018). The aim of these behaviours is to foster trust and emotional dependency (Craven et al., 2006; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001). The development of trust is directed not only towards the child, but towards other sources of support in the child’s social context, including their family (Campbell, 2009; Colton et al., 2010; Craven et al., 2006; Katz & Barnetz, 2016; McAlinden, 2006; Olsen et al., 2007). Elliot et al. (1995, p.582) found that 20 percent of offenders in their sample (n=91) had developed trust with the victim’s family to facilitate the abuse, while Smallbone and Wortley (2001, p.4) reported that 44 percent of extra-familial offenders (n=60) befriended the child’s parents. Studies involving victims of CSA reveal comparable findings. Katz and Barnetz (2015, p. 5) found that 68.4 percent of child-victims aged 5-13 years (n=95) reported that their abuser had manipulated their family.

Bribes: gifts, treats, trips. Developing trust and dependence is facilitated by exploiting the child’s vulnerabilities through attention, affection and/or gifts (Campbell, 2009; Colton et al., 2010; Olsen et al., 2007; Paine & Hansen 2002; Plummer, 2018; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001). Elliot et al. (1995, p.585) found that 53 percent of offenders (n=91) spent time with their victims (playing games, sport, or musical instruments); 46 percent gave bribes; and 30 percent used “affection, understanding, and love.” Among a sample of 23 CSA victims aged 10-18 years, Berliner and Conte (1990, p.33) found that 57 percent received special privileges, while 61 percent said their abuser made them feel special.

Isolation. Isolating the victim from sources of support, both physically and emotionally, facilitates access for offenders, reduces the child’s opportunities to disclose the abuse, and allows offenders to foster dependency through the development of a “relationship” (Craven et al., 2006; Olsen et al., 2007; Plummer, 2018). The child’s vulnerabilities (e.g. minimal social support, need for affection) combined with the offender’s attention separates the child from sources of support (e.g. family, friends) such that he or she becomes “more susceptible to abuse,” and “more entrenched in the relationship” (Olsen et al., 2007, p.243). Although few studies have considered gender differences in the experience of sexual grooming, since girls are more often victims of intra-familial abuse, isolation and trust building may occur more often in incestuous family situations, where “familial psychological foreplay and collusive family atmosphere” serve to desensitise the

35 child to the abuse (Glasser et al 2001, p.492). For boys, who are more often victims of extra-familial abuse by known offenders:

trust building may be especially prevalent in relationships where the person has a position of authority over the child, such as a teacher or priest. Particular roles such as teacher or priest have an aura of respect, putting children in a position to obey their directions (Olsen et al., 2007, p.241).

Among a review of 95 investigative interviews with child victims of CSA (aged 5-13 years), Katz and Barnetz (2015) also found that girls reported the establishment of emotional rapport significantly more often than boys (p<.05). Nonetheless, for both boys and girls, the victim-offender relationship is often an “emotionally significant one” (Paine & Hansen, 2002, p.277).

Sexualisation. A perpetrator will commonly begin with relatively mild or non-sexual touching that progresses to more serious types of sexual activity over time (Colton et al., 2010; Elliott et al., 1995; Paine & Hansen, 2002; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001, p.6). Among a clinical sample of 20 child sex offenders, Conte et al. (1989, p.300) revealed “sophistication of offender efforts to desensitize children to touch,” such that by the time the child realises the abusive nature of the contact, they may feel as though they consented because they did not refuse earlier inappropriate behaviours. Such gradual escalation also allows the abuser to continually evaluate the “risk of discovery” from the child’s disclosure or from others’ suspicions (Kaufman et al., 1998, p.356).

Force & threats. While physical force or threats of force may be used to gain compliance (Berliner & Conte, 1990; Elliott et al., 1995; Lang & Frenzel, 1988; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001), most studies describe the grooming process as manipulative or emotionally coercive rather than forceful (Colton et al., 2010; Phelan, 1995, Plummer, 2018). Among 41 child sex offenders, Sullivan and Beech (2004, p. 47) found that only one offender reported using physical force exclusively, while 76 percent reported using emotionally coercive grooming techniques. Victim reports, particularly those by girls (Katz & Barnetz, 2015), also reveal a higher likelihood for offenders to emotionally coerce rather than physically coerce their victims into compliance (Berliner & Conte, 1990). However, while Gordon (1990, p.329) suggests that “in the overwhelming majority of cases, force is neither threatened nor used,” in a nationally representative sample (n=1400), Smith and Ford (2010) found that boys were more likely than girls to experience force or injury during CSA.

36 Maintaining secrecy. The literature suggests that bribes, isolation and coercion continue to be used after the onset of abuse as ways of maintaining the child’s secrecy (Campbell, 2009; Katz & Barnetz, 2015; Plummer, 2018; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001). Offenders may also deter disclosure through verbal threats (e.g. that the child will not be believed, will get into trouble, or will be isolated without the offender) (Elliott et al., 1995; Goodman-Brown, Edelstein, Goodman, Jones, & Gordon, 2003; Kaufman et al., 1998; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001). Due to relationship development throughout the grooming process, offenders may also deter disclosure by telling the child that the offender, rather than the child, will get into trouble if the child discloses, or by reinforcing the notion of their relationship as a “special secret” (Campbell, 2009; Lang & Frenzel, 1988). Threats of harm to the child or to others may also be used to maintain a child’s secrecy (Kaufman et al., 1998). A review of 218 cases of CSA revealed that threats of negative consequences to others (e.g. the child’s family) were significantly related to delayed disclosure, particularly in intra-familial cases (Goodman-Brown et al., 2003).

While few studies have directly linked grooming experiences to the transition from victim to offender, this review suggests two potential means by which grooming methods may impact subsequent offending. Since boys’ grooming experiences are more likely to be characterised by the use or threat of force, this may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender (Plummer & Cossins, 2016). However, since force is reported to be experienced in a minority of cases, it is arguable that the development of a “relationship” during the grooming process may also be implicated in subsequent offending. In other words, through developing a relationship:

the offender must, of necessity, cause confusion in the victim, and different degrees of damage, and some children are inevitably more likely to go on to abuse than others. A child being approached in the street by a ‘predatory pedophile’ will develop a different set of beliefs about their abuse than someone who is abused by a ‘pedophile’ who takes time in forming the relationship (Wyre, 2000, p.97).

Thus, through relationship development a boy may become dependent upon his abuser, and “confused about his role in the abuse.” This has been found to lead to longer durations of abuse, greater delays in disclosure, and positive perceptions of CSA among boys, but not girls, especially when grooming practices have led to the experience of physical pleasure (Plummer & Cossins, 2016, p.13; Bromberg & Johnson, 2001; Craven,

37 Brown & Gilchrist, 2007; Hall et al., 1998; Holmes & Slap, 1998; Lambie et al., 2002). Holmes and Slap (1998, p.1858) noted that “negative responses to sexual abuse were reported by only 15 to 39 percent of male victims” across 166 studies of male CSA, and 91 percent of men who described positive perceptions of the abuse reported that the experience involved physical pleasure. Lambie et al. (2002) also found that sexually victimised boys who perpetuated the cycle of CSA more often reported that they had experienced physical pleasure during their own abuse. Grooming practices that lead to physical pleasure are said to enhance a sense of responsibility and self-blame (Craven, Brown & Gilchrist (2007, p.296), since sexual stimulation may be interpreted by the victim “as evidence that they are enjoying themselves.” Hall et al. (1998, p.1051) found two variables to be indicative of subsequent sexual behaviour problems among a clinical sample of 100 sexually abused children aged 3 to 7 years: the “sexual arousal of the child during the sexual abuse” and the “perpetrator’s use of grooming” (p<0.00001). The authors concluded that the

development of problematic sexual behavior in the child … is not a simple cause- and-effect relationship between the physical acts which occur during the sexual abuse and outcomes. The meaning of that sexual experience to the victim may play an influential role ... the gradual induction of the victim into the ‘secret’ activity, their level of involvement and pleasure experienced, and self-blame may all work together to increase the likelihood that the child will continue the behavior (p.1055).

Thus, the transition from victim to offender may be affected by the creation of a dependent relationship wherein feelings of shame and self-blame are emphasised, and where the grooming process results in positive perceptions or experiences of physical pleasure during the abuse. These factors have been found among male, but not female, victims, and have been linked to child sex offending behaviours among community and clinical samples.

2.7 Disclosure of Abuse

The literature commonly indicates that “girls are more likely to report abuse and to have their abuse substantiated,” with boys’ disclosures more likely to occur in adulthood rather than childhood or adolescence (Plummer & Cossins, 2016, p.13; Cashmore & Shackel, 2014; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; Herbert et al., 2009; King & Woollett, 1997; Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010; O’Leary & Barber, 2008; Tang, Freyd & Wang, 2007;

38 Ullman & Filipas, 2005). However, in a recent longitudinal study analysing government data, Mathews, Bromfield, Walsh and Cheng (2017) revealed that the rate of reporting for girls and boys (n=92,402) approached parity over the 20-year period from 1993 to 2012. The authors suggested that this finding may point to potential underreporting by girls since prevalence studies consistently reveal that girls are victimised at higher rates than boys. Research also indicates that girls are more likely to be victims of intrafamilial abuse and that “children abused by family members are more likely to delay disclosure” (Cossins, 2010, p.80; Freyd, 1994; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Kogan, 2003; McElvaney, 2015; Schaeffer, Leventhal, & Gottsegen-Asnes, 2011).

While boys and girls may, therefore, be equally likely to delay or avoid disclosure (Alaggia, 2005), there are differences in the ways boys and girls “think about, rationalise and weigh up the likely impact” of disclosure (Cashmore & Shackel, 2014, p.81). Women’s barriers to disclosure appear to relate to feelings of responsibility for the abuse, fears about their own safety and that of their families, and stronger feelings that they will be blamed or not believed (Alaggia, 2005; Alaggia, Collin-Vezina & Lateef, 2017; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Hunter, 2011; Tang et al., 2007). Since girls are more often victims of intrafamilial abuse, they more commonly hold concerns about familial breakdown resulting from disclosure (Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Kogan, 2003). By comparison, boys’ barriers to disclosure appear to centre around issues of masculinity and dominant masculine norms that discourage help seeking (Faller, 1989; Vogel et al., 2011). Men avoid or delay disclosure due to fears that others will label them as homosexual, fears of being considered a “victim,” beliefs that “real men do not get abused,” or fears that they will become abusers (Holmes, Waller & Offen, 1997, p.78; Alaggia, 2005; Alaggia, Collin-Vezina & Lateef, 2017; Cashmore & Shackel, 2014; Easton et al., 2014; Harris & Mayba, 2017; Hunter, 2011; Monaco & Gaier, 1988; Paine & Hansen, 2002; Schaeffer et al., 2012; Sorsoli, Kia-Keating & Grossman, 2008). Consequently, a victimised boy’s experience of disclosure noticeably differs from a girl’s, since “sexual abuse for a man is an abuse against his manhood as well” (Easton, Saltzman & Willis, 2014, p.463). Among a non-clinical sample of men with CSA histories (n=460), Easton et al. (2014, p.463) concluded that “the decision not to disclose was perceived as a method of preserving a sense of masculinity.”

While few studies have directly linked how abuse disclosure might lead boys to sexually abuse children in adulthood at a higher rate than girls, more negative psychological outcomes have been found among those who delay disclosure (Easton, 2014; Herbert et al., 2009; O’Leary et al., 2010; Ullman, 2007). For example, among a large non-clinical

39 sample of male CSA victims (n=487), Easton (2014) found that delaying disclosure resulted in more mental health symptoms in adulthood. The author concluded that:

the burden of carrying the secret from childhood into adulthood appears to have a heavy cost in terms of mental health. Although delaying disclosure may temporarily protect young survivors who are in unsupportive or hostile environments, the results of this study suggest that maintaining secrecy appears to be harmful as a long-term strategy for dealing with CSA (Easton, 2014, p.249).

Since victims begin to gain an understanding of their abuse through discussion with others (Easton, 2014; Simon, Feiring & Cleland, 2014), positive or supportive responses from others during disclosure can “reduce problems associated with shame, self-blame, isolation, and the burden of maintaining a secret” (Easton, 2014, p.244). Delaying disclosure, therefore, means that feelings of shame, isolation, and self-blame may persist throughout the lifecourse, leading to various mental health issues, and to the development of understandings of CSA that may contribute to subsequent offending. For example, research indicates that boys, but not girls, are likely to minimise the impact of their abusive experiences and develop understandings of their abuse as “normal” in some circumstances (Alaggia et al., 2017; Holmes & Slap, 1998; Lambie et al., 2002; Hall et al., 1998). This process of “normalising” abuse, wherein victims do not self-identify as having been abused, serves to deter disclosure, and has been linked to child sex offending behaviours in adulthood (Bagley et al., 1994; Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Simon, Feiring & Cleland, 2014; Vaillancourt-Morel et al., 2015).

Among a convenience sample of 1,021 men and women, Vaillancourt-Morel et al. (2015) found that while 19.6 percent of men reported childhood experiences that matched the legal definition of CSA, only 3.8 percent self-defined their experience as abuse. Those who did not self-define as CSA victims were more likely to report sexual compulsion compared to those who did self-define as victims and who were more likely to report sexual avoidance. Among a random sample of 750 sexually abused males, Bagley et al. (1994) found that 84.6 percent of men did not disclose their abuse to anyone, and this independently predicted later sexual interest or activity involving children under age 15. Lorentzen, Nilsen and Traeen (2008, p.172) suggest that a victim’s subsequent psychological and emotional wellbeing is dependent upon the victim shifting their understanding of abuse “from regarding the abuse as normal to understanding it as abnormal,” which is often facilitated by disclosing the abuse and receiving support. When a boy develops an understanding of his abuse as normal, he may be less likely to

40 disclose his abuse, which precludes the possibility that he may receive support or psychological treatment that would allow him to develop more appropriate understandings of his experience (Bagley et al., 1994; O’Leary & Barber, 2008; O’Leary, 2009). For example, among a student sample of 60 men (20 sexually victimised men who self-defined as victims, 20 sexually victimised men who did not, and 20 men who did not experience CSA), Steever, Follette and Naugle (2001) found that men who self- defined as victims of CSA were twice as likely to seek treatment following their abuse than men who did not.

However, not all disclosures are met with the positive or supportive responses from others, and research indicates that negative responses to disclosure are also harmful to victims (Brenner & Ben-Amitay, 2015; Dorahy & Clearwater, 2012; Elliott & Carnes, 2001; Gagnier & Collin-Vezina, 2016; Royal Commission into Institutional Responses to Child Sexual Abuse, 2014; Simon, Feiring & Cleland, 2014; Ullman, 2007). A negative response, such as disbelief, minimisation, or blaming the victim may exacerbate feelings of shame and self-blame and simultaneously discourage further disclosure (Dorahy & Clearwater, 2012; Gruenfeld, Willis & Easton, 2017; Lorentzen, Nilsen & Traeen, 2008; Simon, Feiring & Cleland, 2014; Tener & Murphy, 2015). Swingle et al. (2016) go so far as to suggest that “disclosure may be detrimental unless adequate steps are taken to ensure abuse cessation and appropriate treatment,” since unsupportive or negative responses to CSA disclosure may also allow the abuse to continue. Negative responses to disclosure have also been found to impact subsequent offending. McKibbin, Humphreys, and Hamilton’s (2017, p.219) interviews with 14 sexually abused young people (aged 16 to 21 years) and 6 treatment providers revealed:

if children are responded to supportively as victims, then they are less likely to develop harmful sexual behaviors … In this study, young people needed adults to intervene in sexual abuse, to hold the perpetrator to account, and to give the young person “language” to interpret the abuse that had been perpetrated against them.

Although few studies have analysed gender differences in how others respond to CSA disclosures, Ullman and Filipas (2005) found that men were more likely to experience negative reactions from others to their disclosure than women among a sample of 733 college students (71% women). Nonetheless, for both men and women, negative or unsupportive reactions to disclosure, and/or when victims perceive the reactions of others to be disbelieving or blaming send “strong negative messages [which] heighten

41 and prolong attention to the abuse, the self as a source of others’ distress, and the fragility of social bonds” (Simon, Feiring & Cleland, 2014, p.10). Among a sample of 27 men and women (74% women) who described their disclosure experiences, McIntosh et al. (2016) revealed that negative responses to CSA disclosure (experienced by 36 percent of the sample) exacerbated feelings of shame and discouraged help-seeking. Similarly, among a sample of 733 college students (71% women) Ullman (2007) found more PTSD symptoms among those who received negative social responses to their disclosure of CSA (e.g. disbelief, blame) than those who did not disclose at all.

Among a sample of 235 adolescents (55 victimised child molesters, 72 non-victimised child molesters, 28 victimised non-offenders, 40 emotionally or behaviourally maladjusted non-victimised non-offenders, and 40 controls), Hunter and Figeuredo (2000) found that a lower level of perceived family support after the disclosure of CSA was predictive of subsequent sexual offending against younger children. The authors concluded that “family support is conducive to restoration of self-esteem and affirmation of self-worth and may help prevent the emergence of disengagement coping strategies (e.g. social withdrawal, problem avoidance, self-denigration), which had been found to be indicative of post-traumatic stress disorder in adult trauma victims” (Hunter & Figueredo, 2000, p.259). Accordingly, research indicates that experiencing negative responses to CSA (including disbelief, blame, or inaction to prevent further abuse) may be equally detrimental to victims’ outcomes, if not more detrimental, than delaying disclosure, and may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender:

although children who do not disclose remain vulnerable to further victimization and are excluded from the potential benefits of a positive response, they are possibly in a better position than children whose attempt at disclosure is met with a negative response (Wager, 2013, p.881).

Overall, numerous authors describe disclosure as a process, rather than a single event, that is “embedded within a system of personal relationships and culture,” which necessarily differ for boys and girls (Tang et al., 2007, p.5; Bradley & Wood, 1996; Durham, 2003; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003). Adherence to dominant masculine norms leads some boys to normalise their abuse experiences, which may deter disclosure and preclude the opportunity for boys to develop more appropriate understandings of their abuse. Since “the adjustment of sexually abused children is influenced by the reactions of others to the disclosure of the abuse” (Saathoff-Wells, Culp & Yancey, 2005, p.486), research suggests that negative or unsupportive reactions to CSA disclosure may result

42 in similar consequences to delayed disclosure in the form of persistent experiences of shame and self-blame and inappropriate understandings of CSA (e.g. normalising). While few studies have directly linked the impact of abuse disclosure experiences on subsequent child sex offending, research indicates that delaying disclosure or experiencing negative or unsupportive social reactions to disclosure may impact the transition from survivor to offender, since both circumstances involve the possibility of a boy normalising his abuse.

2.8 Summary and Conclusions

Building on the work of Plummer and Cossins (2016), the aim of this literature review was to determine whether there are differences in the CSA experiences of boys and girls that can explain the fact that more sexually victimised boys than girls make the transition from victim to offender, despite more girls suffering sexual abuse as children. Consistent with the findings of Plummer and Cossins (2016), this literature review revealed several conflicting findings, as well as several commonalities regarding boys’ CSA experiences compared to girls’. Research suggests that girls are more likely to be abused by older male relatives within the home. Girls’ CSA experiences are characterised by frequent abuse over longer durations, and involve more severe forms of sexual abuse, such as penetration. Girls are more likely than boys to experience negative perceptions of the experience during the abuse and later. Girls’ barriers to disclosure are more often characterised by feelings of responsibility for the abuse, fears about their own safety and that of their families, and stronger concerns that they will be blamed or not believed.

By comparison, the literature describes boys’ CSA experiences as more diverse compared to girls’. Boys’ experiences of CSA are less often characterised by prolonged or frequent abuse, and boys’ abusers are more likely than girls’ to be of a similar age to themselves (e.g. peers, siblings, cousins) as well as men who have a professional relationship with them, or strangers. Boys’ CSA experiences tend to involve less severe forms of abuse, such as penetration, and boys are more likely to develop positive perceptions of their experiences, irrespective of the gender of their abuser. Boys’ barriers to disclosure are more often centred around concerns over masculinity and sexual identity, and relate to cultural norms that discourage help seeking among boys and men.

Despite conflicting findings, a pattern of abuse that is most likely to contribute to child sex offending behaviours among men, but not women, emerged. Several of these

43 findings were consistent with those of Plummer and Cossins (2016), while some additional findings emerged from this review. Boys were more likely to develop sexually abusive behaviour in adolescence or adulthood if they:

a) experienced abuse during later childhood or early adolescence (aged 10-12 or older) (Plummer & Cossins, 2016); and/or b) experienced frequent abuse (Plummer & Cossins, 2016); and/or c) experienced a relationship with their abuser that involved a high degree of closeness and dependency (as perceived by the victim) (Plummer & Cossins, 2016); and/or d) experienced grooming characterised by the creation of a dependent relationship wherein feelings of shame and self-blame are emphasised, and where positive perceptions or physical pleasure were experienced; and/or e) delayed disclosure and/or negative responses to initial disclosure (that allowed normalising of abuse to continue).

In many cases, the abuse characteristics listed above appeared to be influential on the transition from victim to offender because of the different ways boys and girls experienced, responded to, or perceived them. For example, in section 2.2, frequency of abuse was found to be more common for girls’ experiences, yet was also linked to child sex offending among boys. The literature suggested that degrees of abuse frequency result in different types of sexualised behaviour for boys and girls, with boys’ behaviours becoming more abusive and girls’ becoming more reactive (McClellan et al., 1997). Section 2.3. revealed that the impact of the victim-offender relationship on the transition from victim to offender may be affected by the degree of emotional closeness within that relationship as perceived by the victim. Section 2.4. suggested that boys are likely to interpret abuse differently from girls depending upon the gender of their abuser, with sexual abuse by a man representing a threat to a boy’s masculinity, and abuse by a woman being more likely to be normalised.

In section 2.5., conflicting findings regarding the link between abuse severity and subsequent offending highlighted that current measures of severity do not account for what victims may experience as more severe, which again points to the significance of victims’ interpretations of their abuse on subsequent outcomes. Section 2.6 revealed that a child will “develop a different set of beliefs” about their abuse depending upon the grooming process (Wyre, 2000, p.7) and studies suggested that girls and boys are likely to interpret their abuse differently due to their grooming experiences, including positive

44 perceptions of CSA among boys, but not girls, especially when grooming practices have led to the experience of physical pleasure.

Finally, the literature reviewed in section 2.7. suggested that there are differences in the ways boys and girls “think about, rationalise and weigh up the likely impact” of disclosure (Cashmore & Shackel, 2014, p.81). Issues surrounding masculinity appeared to be barriers to disclosure for boys, but not girls, and boys, but not girls, appeared to be likely to minimise the impact of their abusive experiences and develop understandings of their abuse as “normal” in some circumstances. This process of “normalising” abuse, wherein victims do not self-identify as having been abused, serves to deter disclosure, and has been linked to child sex offending behaviours in adulthood. Preserving masculine status was also associated with boys’ greater tendency to normalise their abuse, which was in turn linked to child sex offending behaviours in adolescence or adulthood. These findings highlight “the importance of individual beliefs and appraisals in contributing to the severity of the impact of sexual abuse” (Williams, 2008, p.53). For example, Williams (2008, p.53) found that “the cognitive appraisal of the traumatic event was the major determinant of subsequent adjustment or maladjustment” among a non-representative community sample of male and female CSA survivors aged between 14 and 76.

Accordingly, the pattern among boys’ CSA experiences that appears to affect their transition from victim to offender relates to those abuse characteristics that impact a boy’s sense of masculinity, and his likelihood of normalising his abuse. The more varied relationships boys’ have with their abusers, their older age at the time of abuse, whether they have been abused by both men and women, and the ways boys perceive their abuse appear to distinguish boys’ CSA experiences from those of girls. Boys, more than girls, are likely to be abused by someone closer in age to themselves, to be abused by someone who has a professional relationship with them (potentially a father figure), and to be less disturbed by (and more likely to experience) sexual abuse that does not involve contact. These factors have been linked to child sex offending in adulthood, where boys who normalise CSA experiences may be more likely to abuse children than boys who consider the experience to have been entirely negative or abusive (Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Holmes 2008; Vaillancourt-Morel et al., 2015). When boys’ abusers develop a “relationship” with them through the grooming process, it becomes “difficult for the boy to prevent, stop, or disclose the abuse” (Plummer & Cossins, 2016, p.13). This may also be true for girls’ experiences of CSA (potentially more so), but what appears to distinguish boys’ patterns of CSA from girls’ is that, in such a context, boys have been reported to enjoy aspects of the CSA experience (such as attention or treats, bond

45 formed with a father figure or peer, and some sexual practices). It is therefore possible that boys’ CSA experiences involving peers or relatives of similar age, or father figures, may lead them to view sexually abusive behaviours as “normal” sexual practices among men, and lead to future child sex offending.

Arguably, therefore, certain patterns of abuse experienced by boys, as compared to girls, appear to put them at greater risk of sexually abusing children. This provides some support, though not confirmation, for the notion that a “cycle” of CSA may exist among men. However, what this literature review cannot definitively demonstrate is how the experience of CSA differs among boys such that some, but not all, go on to sexually offend against children. Consequently, there is a significant gap in the research into the presumed “cycle” of CSA that a comparison of boys’ and girls’ lived experiences only partially addresses. What is needed is a comparison of the differences among boys’ lived experiences, because while a “cycle” may be evident amongst sexually abused boys rather than girls (Plummer & Cossins, 2016), and different experiences of CSA may partially explain this, the “cycle” is not evident in all sexually victimised boys.

The present research aims to fill this gap by investigating the heterogeneity of boys’ CSA experiences, and whether the lived experience of CSA can account for why some victimised boys become offenders in adolescence and adulthood. While comparing boys’ CSA experiences may identify abuse characteristics that are associated with future CSA perpetration, an explanation of why these characteristics affect the transition from victim to offender is required. The preceding literature review suggests that there are other factors that may be implicated in this transition, including how the experience is interpreted, and the degree of arousal present during the abuse (which may be related to the nature of the abuse suffered). Comparing boys’ diverse experiences of CSA within their social contexts may shed light on how boys perceive their abuse, and what that may mean for boys who become offenders. In other words, it possible that the meanings and interpretations of sexual victimisation will be different for boys who do, as opposed to those who don’t, continue a cycle of abuse.

To provide a context for this comparison, it is necessary to consider the theoretical foundations that underpin the abused-abuser hypothesis. Since this literature review identified that the sociocultural and psychosexual impact of experiencing various CSA characteristics differs for boys and girls such that victimised boys are more likely to sexually abuse children in adolescence or adulthood, the following chapter will discuss various theories about the cycle of CSA. These theories consider psychological, social,

46 and gender-related factors that may contribute to a cycle of abuse. The three key theories that can address the cycle of abuse specifically, rather than child sex offending more broadly, include the Social Learning Theory (Akers, 2009), the Pathways model (Ward & Seigert, 2002), and the Power/Powerlessness theory (Cossins, 2000). Based on the findings from this literature review, these theories will be evaluated for their explanatory value about the relationship between different CSA characteristics and male victims’ experiences and perceptions of abuse.

2.8.1 Limitations It is important to note that various methodological factors may impact the comparability and generalisability of study findings, including the (i) definitions of CSA used by different authors; (ii) types of samples; (iii) design and data collection procedures; and (iv) underreporting of abuse (McGrath, Nilsen, & Kerley, 2010; Loeb et al., 2011; Thomas & Fremouw, 2009; Wyatt & Peters, 1986). As discussed in Chapter 1 (see section 1.5) different studies define what constitutes CSA (Price-Robertson, Bromfield & Vassallo, 2010, p.17), and what age groups are classified as “children” (Fassler et al., 2005; Gault- Sherman et al., 2009; Swanston et al., 2003; Widom, 1989; Wyatt & Peters, 1986), which makes comparing studies more complicated.

Small sample sizes or samples from particular populations (such as prisoners, students, or those in clinical settings) may be unrepresentative of the general population, or may lack sufficient statistical power (Cannon, 2012; Felson & Lane, 2009; Friedrich et al., 2001; McGrath et al., 2010; Oaksford & Frude, 2001; Romano & De Luca, 1997). Studies that rely on adults’ recollections of childhood victimisation experiences may be unreliable or inaccurate (Briere, 1992; McGrath et al., 2010). While longitudinal approaches may overcome these limitations by following child victims throughout the life-course, these studies suffer from sample attrition and the challenge of “disentangling the effects of other… factors” in victims’ backgrounds (McGrath et al., 2010, p.489).

Self-report measures, where participants “recall sexual abuse that may have occurred years or even decades prior,” are limited by the honesty and accuracy of participants’ recollections (Mills, Kisely, Alati, Strathearn, & Najman, 2015, p.87; Vander Mey, 1988). While the anonymity afforded by many self-report measures can overcome some of the concerns around the hidden nature of CSA, the accuracy of self-report has been questioned due to several factors that may affect disclosure (Hardt & Rutter, 2004; Mills et al., 2015). First, the age of participants at the time of the study may affect the accuracy of self-report due to memory errors resulting from the time lapse between the experience 47 of CSA and the study. Second, the “sensitive nature of the questions” may result in inaccurate or variable responses due to the “subjects’ knowledge of the ‘social taboos’ of responding to such questions” (Dube, Williamson, Thompson, Felitti, & Anda, 2004, p.730). Third, participants’ responses may reflect an attempt to defend themselves against negative emotions or to protect their abuser (Mills et al., 2015). Finally, mental health issues and/or psychological treatment may affect the ways in which participants understand or articulate their experiences (Mills et al., 2015). Self-selection into any type of study results in unrepresentative samples that do not necessarily reflect the experiences of those in the community (Strassberg & Lowe, 1995).

By comparison, the use of clinical, government or police records provides a “rich source of information at a population-wide level,” and “confers the potential benefit of a contemporaneous, impartial, third party assessment of maltreatment including sexual abuse” (Mills et al., 2015, p.88; Leach, Baksheev, & Powell, 2015, p.912). However, such sources are prone to issues of reliability and accuracy, since the data were collected for administrative rather than research purposes, and the identification of relevant cases, how to handle missing data, and consideration of the representativeness of the data (often related to under-reporting of CSA) becomes problematic (Leach, Baksheev, & Powell, 2015, p.912; McGrath et al., 2010; Mills et al., 2015, p.88). These sources also only represent cases that are reported to official agencies, which leaves unreported cases unaccounted for (Kendall-Tackett & Becker-Blease, 2004; Mills et al., 2015). Literature reviews are similarly subject to selection bias when authors decide upon their inclusion and exclusion criteria (Egger & Davey Smith, 1998).

48 Chapter 3: Theories of the Cycle of Child Sexual Abuse

3.1 Introduction

The problem of why victims of CSA become child sex offenders has been examined by numerous disciplines, including psychology, criminology, law, and sociology, resulting in a variety of explanations for “why the transition from victim to abuser defines only a minority (and sometimes an elusive minority) of abuse victims” (Bagley et al., 1994, p.684). Although there are many general theories of child sex offending,13 the aim of this Chapter is to evaluate the three theories that specifically attempt to explain a cycle of CSA, including Social Learning Theory (Akers, 2009), the Pathways Model (Ward & Seigert, 2002) (with reference to the Four Preconditions Model (Finkelhor, 1984), Quadripartite Model (Hall & Hirschman, 1991), Integrated Theory (Marshall & Barbaree, 1990)), and the Power/Powerlessness theory (Cossins, 2000) (with reference to sociological and gender-based perspectives).

Chapter 1 identified that the cycle of CSA is gendered, while Chapter 2 provided evidence for distinct differences between boys’ and girls’ experiences of CSA such that boys are more likely than girls to become child sex offenders. Chapter 2 further suggested that these differences appeared to be linked to the different ways boys and girls perceive, understand and interpret their CSA experiences within their social contexts.

The three theories that address the cycle of CSA will be evaluated for their ability to account for: (i) The different abuse characteristics that may be interpreted differently by sexually victimised boys, such that some boys are more likely than others to make the transition from victim to offender; (ii) The gendered nature of the cycle of CSA, that is, why the factors attributed to the transition from victim to offender are more likely to occur among sexually victimised boys rather than sexually victimised girls, and (iii) The social context in which survivors make sense of their abuse such that some, but not all, sexually victimised boys become child sex offenders.

13 Including biological (e.g. Corley et al., 1994; Malamuth & Heilmann, 1998); psychological (e.g. Maniglio, 2011; Whitaker et al., 2008); personality (e.g. Leguizamo, 2002); cognitive (e.g. Marshall, Anderson, & Champaigne, 1997) and self-regulation theories (e.g. Stinson, Sales & Becker, 2008). 49 Since this thesis aims to examine the transition from victim to offender specifically (i.e. not child sex offending more broadly), the three theories will also be evaluated for their ability to interrogate possible causal pathways from victim to offender, including factors that are implicated in this transition. In other words:

a theory needs to identify the core phenomena thought to be associated with sexual abuse and then to specify the underlying mechanisms that generate each of the phenomena (Ward, 2001, p.340).

It must also explain why the factors it associates with child sex offending are expressed sexually, and then why they are expressed as sexual behaviours with children. For example, experiencing CSA itself is not a necessary and sufficient “cause” of child sex offending, since most victims do not become offenders while studies show that many child sex offenders were not themselves abused (e.g. Glasser et al., 2001; Leach, Stewart & Smallbone, 2016).

Since a key defining feature of the cycle of CSA is that it occurs among men,14 I argue that sociological and gender-based approaches that include feminist perspectives (e.g. Kia-Keating et al., 2005; Messerschmidt, 1999, 2000; Kaufman, 1999), and the Power/Powerlessness theory (Cossins, 2000), have greater explanatory potential. These approaches examine how differences in the lives of men and women, and among men (due to inequalities based on class, race, sexuality, age), contribute to differences in the nature and context of offending. They are, therefore, able to interrogate the question of why some specifically male CSA survivors become child sex offenders in adolescence or adulthood.

3.2 Social Learning Theory

Social Learning Theory (SLT) (Akers, 1973, 2009) draws on Bandura’s Social Learning Theory (1971) and Sutherland’s Differential Association Theory (1947). The foundation of SLT is that child sex offending is a learned behaviour. Akers (2009) argues that “the probability of both the initiation and the repetition of a deviant or criminal act… is a function of the learning history of the individual” (p.53), where:

14 This is discussed in detail in Chapter 1. 50 deviant and criminal behaviour is learned and modified (acquired, performed, repeated, maintained, and changed) through all of the same cognitive and behavioural mechanisms as conforming behaviour. They differ in the direction, content and outcome of the behaviour learned (p.52).

Differences in the content and outcome of the learned behaviour are related to four factors: “differential association”, “differential reinforcement”, “imitation”, and “definitions”. Firstly, “differential association” refers to the premise that an individual is more likely to commit deviant acts when “he or she differentially associates with others who commit, model, and support violations of social and legal norms” (p.50). Akers (2009) argues that:

those associations which occur earlier (priority), last longer, and occupy more time (duration), occur more often (frequency), and involve others with whom one has the more important relationships (intensity) will have a greater effect on criminal or law abiding behaviour (p.64).

Secondly, “differential reinforcement” refers to the assumption that individuals are likely to initiate, continue, or desist from deviant behaviours depending upon the actual or anticipated rewards involved in the behaviour. Individuals are more likely to engage in behaviours when there are real or expected positive rewards (e.g. “obtaining approval, status, money, awards, food, or pleasant feelings”) or avoiding/escaping “aversive or unpleasant” situations (Akers, 2009, p.68). Individuals are unlikely to engage in deviant behaviour, or may cease deviant behaviour, depending upon negative consequences of the behaviour. Rewards, or positive reinforcement, are not theorised to involve merely tangible outcomes, such as direct positive reactions of others or material benefits, but also the reinforcement that comes from:

fulfilling ideological, religious, political, or other goals. Even those rewards that we consider to be very tangible, such as money and material possessions, gain their reinforcing worth from the symbolic prestige and approval value they have in society. (p.72)

Thirdly, “imitation” refers to the notion that behaviour modeled by others will be imitated. This is more likely to occur when the model is perceived as having desirable characteristics (e.g. power, prestige), and when the observed behaviour produces a positive outcome (vicarious reinforcement). Finally, “definitions” refers to:

51 normative attitudes or evaluative meanings attached to given behaviour. Exposure to others’ shared definitions is a key (but not the only) part of the process by which the individual acquires or internalises his or her own definitions (Akers, 2009, p.78).

Akers (2009) suggests that “definitions” may be positive, and support the commission of deviant acts, or neutralizing, which justify or excuse the commission of deviant acts (either before or after they have been committed). Neutralizing justifications are learned (e.g. through imitation), and these are used to “lessen self-reproach and social disapproval” (Akers, 2009, p. 80). When applied to sex offending specifically, Akers (2009, p,258) suggests that a person is more likely to engage in deviant sexual behaviour when s/he is:

differentially associated with others who engage in similar behaviour, has been or anticipates being differentially reinforced for using sexual coercion under given conditions, defines the behaviour as desirable or justified in certain situations, and is exposed to models of forcible sexual behaviour.

SLT, therefore, is premised on the notion that individuals tend to model the behaviours of influential figures, particularly when the observed behaviour is “perceived to create a desired outcome” (McGrath et al., 2010, p.486; Singh-Narang & Contreras, 2000). In line with SLT, Burton (2003) suggests that learning CSA may occur through imitation of the perpetrator’s behaviour, or through conditioning when victims associate any sexual stimulation with cues of the abuse (e.g. acts experienced). Victims simultaneously learn reinforcing attitudes about the acceptability of adult-child sex. Felson and Lane (2009) maintain that individuals who are sexually abused as children have learned the behaviour, as well as corresponding attitudes and justifications, and will often replicate it as they become sexual perpetrators.

Among other studies that have found empirical support for SLT (Christopher, Lutz-Zois & Reinhardt, 2007; Hilton & Mezey, 1996; Simons, Wurtele & Durham, 2008; Worling, 1995), Veneziano, Veneziano and LeGrand (2000) reported the so-called “re-enactment” of child sex offenders’ experiences of CSA among their sample of 68 adolescent child sex offenders. Offenders who experienced abuse under the age of five by male abusers were twice as likely to perpetrate abuse against boys under age five; and victims of intra- familial abuse were 1.5 times more likely to abuse a family member (p<.01). These

52 results should be interpreted cautiously, since the study relied on a relatively small sample of incarcerated adolescent offenders, making the findings non-generalisable to broader populations of child sex offenders. Nonetheless, similar results have been found among clinical samples of adolescent offenders (Burton, 2003; Worling, 1995), and studies that have reviewed the CSA literature (Hilton & Mezey, 1996). Both Burton (2003) and Hilton and Mezey (1996, p.411) reported that abuse-specific characteristics (including victim choice, relationship with the victim, sexual behaviours and grooming strategies) tended to “replicate the offender’s own experience of abuse.”

3.2.1 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of SLT The key premise of SLT is that child sex offending is a learned behaviour. A strength of SLT is that it considers how different experiences of CSA affect the behaviours that are learned, and why some CSA experiences might lead to “the internalisation of sexual arousal related to sexual abuse” (Nelligan, 2013, p. 15). Studies applying SLT to the cycle of CSA have found support for its tenets. The following factors are associated with the likelihood that CSA victims will develop cognitions that endorse adult-child sex: x age of victimisation (with younger children more likely to imitate the modelled behaviour) (Burton et al., 2002; Garland & Dougher, 1990); x abuse by a known and trusted person (Burton et al. 2002; Faller, 1989; Kendall- Tacket et al., 1993); x frequent abuse (Burton et al., 2002); and x severe abuse (Burton et al., 2002). For example, Burton et al. (2002) compared the abuse characteristics of 216 sexually victimised adolescent sex offenders and 93 sexually victimised adolescent non-sexual offenders and concluded:

Sexual victimization and trauma are experiences that result in learning. If the sexual victimization of the youth is characterized by greater repetition and relative severity …, we posit that the youth then has knowledge that is different from the non-victimized youth and has had a different learning experience that is more likely to result in sexual offending behavior (p.903).

However, these findings should be considered cautiously, since Burton et al.’s sample of sex offenders was not representative and other studies involving more representative community samples have found no link between abuse duration or severity and subsequent child sex offending (e.g. Lambie et al., 2002; Salter et al., 2003).

53 As a cognitive-behavioural model, SLT considers both the psychological (e.g. cognitive appraisals/definitions) and social factors (e.g. reinforcement and modelling) involved in learned behaviour. However, a key downfall of SLT is that “by concluding that sexual offending is caused by learned deviant sexual preferences” (Smallbone & Cale, 2017, p.297), SLT is premised on the assumption that child sex offending is “a deviation from some undefined standard of “normal” masculine sexual behaviour with adult women” (Cossins, 2000, p.89). This is problematic because “value judgements that a type of sexual behaviour is disordered or deviant” (Laws & O’Donohue, 2008, p.38) are not supported by research into international ages of consent (Bullough, 2005; Popovic, 2006), nor by historical analyses of the social and legal status of CSA (Cossins, 2000), which identify substantial variation in what constitutes legally or socially condoned sexual practices (see section 3.3.6 for more detail). Similarly, current international prevalence rates reveal that CSA is not a rare phenomenon,15 leading Cossins (2000, p.4) to suggest that “a distinction needs to be made between socially unacceptable sexual practices which occur with relative frequency and so-called deviant sexual behaviour.”

The problem with defining child sex offending behaviour as “deviant” or “abnormal” rather than socially unacceptable is that this premise overlooks the context in which child sex offending behaviours occur, and the meanings that are ascribed to these behaviours in a given culture. As Cale et al. (2014, p.38) note, the sexual behaviours involved in CSA are often not unusual, “deviant” or even “remarkable” (Cale et al., 2014, p.38). Rather, it is the age of the person that turns these sexual behaviours into criminal offences, and the age at which such behaviour becomes socially unacceptable or criminal varies across cultures, and over time.

SLT proposes that internalised attitudes and beliefs about adult-child sexual behaviours (resulting from experiences of CSA) are reinforced within a child’s social context. For example, negative responses to abuse disclosure (e.g. disbelieving, unsupportive, or indifferent responses by others) are linked to victims internalisation of sexual attitudes conducive to adult-child sex and the development of sexually abusive behaviour (e.g. Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Burton, Miller, & Shill, 2002). Since Chapters 1 and 2 revealed that how a child interprets their abuse within their social context appears to be significant

15 Pereda et al’s (2009) meta-analysis of 65 international prevalence studies revealed that 19.7% of women and 7.9% of men had experienced CSA before the age of 18 years. Stoltenborgh, et al. (2011, p.84) also found similar victimisation rates of 18% for women, and 7.6% for men, in their meta-analysis of 331 samples reported in 217 publications between 1980 and 2008 (n= 9,911,748). 54 for the cycle of CSA, SLT’s acknowledgement of the social context in which sexually victimised children make sense of their abuse is important. However, by focusing almost entirely on the experience of CSA and the social context of the child immediately following the abuse, SLT does not adequately address the influence of broader sociocultural factors on how learned perceptions about adult-child sex either change or remain stable throughout the lifecourse. This means that SLT overlooks the stages at which child sex offending may occur and in what contexts (i.e. the motivations and situational variables that influence the choice to offend).

Further, while SLT defines child sex offending as “learned behaviours” that result from certain abuse experiences creating attitudes and beliefs supportive of adult-child sex, SLT fails to identify how, why, or under what conditions internalised understandings of sexual abuse are acted upon to result in child sex offending. Such an explanation is necessary because female CSA victims do not make the transition from victim to offender to the same extent as male victims. No explanation is given as to why, for example, a boy who has the same CSA experiences as a girl would be more likely to develop “sexually deviant preferences,” nor why he would be more likely to act on these preferences by sexually abusing a child.

In this respect, SLT would benefit from consideration of situational perspectives of offending. Situational models alone cannot explain the transition from victim to offender since they focus on the proximal factors that influence offending behaviours, such as the opportunity to offend, or having access to children, rather than the cycle of CSA. However, situational factors could be combined with SLT to provide a more comprehensive account of how “deviant” sexual preferences become child sex offending behaviours. For example, SLT implies that sexually victimised boys are internally motivated, or driven, to sexually abuse children in adolescence or adulthood due to having learned “deviant” sexual preferences. This removes agency and free will from offenders by focusing almost entirely on the offender to the exclusion of the environment in which offending occurs. Clarke (1997, p.2) considers this a key oversight, since “the commission of a crime requires not merely the existence of a motivated offender, but… it also requires the opportunity for crime.” In his Situational Crime Prevention Model, Clarke (1997) argues that crime cannot be explained with reference solely to the individual, since:

all people have some probability of committing crime depending on the circumstances in which they find themselves (Clarke, 1997, p.4).

55 While Clarke (1997) did not apply his theory to child sex offending specifically, situational principles could be useful for SLT in explaining the transition from victim to offender. Considering situational perspectives would allow SLT to look beyond the individual in order to consider the influence of situational and sociocultural factors on offenders’ sexual abuse of children.

Despite empirical support for its tenets (e.g. Burton, 2002; Christopher et al., 2007; Hilton & Mezey, 1996; Simons et al., 2008), SLT has significant limitations when explaining the cycle of CSA, including a lack of clarity surrounding: (i) Why only some (specifically male) victims will develop cognitive appraisals of the abuse that produce “deviant” sexual attitudes; and (ii) How learned attitudes and rationalisations about adult-child sex manifest as sexual behaviours with children.

Nonetheless, SLT’s acknowledgement of the significance of different experiences of abuse on a victim’s outcomes as well as it’s (albeit cursory) consideration of social context mean that it may provide insight into the experiences of CSA among the sample of victims and victim-offenders that will be interviewed in this study.

3.3 The Pathways Model

Navathe, Ward and Gannon (2008, p.114) argue that “researchers and clinicians alike ascribe child sex offenders' behaviour to distorted internal beliefs rather than locating the behaviour in its context.” Some theoretical perspectives attempt to address this by considering a range of psychological, developmental, behavioural, and sociocultural perspectives simultaneously. A key example of this approach is Ward and Seigert’s (2002) Pathways Model, which draws together the strongest elements of three theories: Finkelhor’s (1984) Four Preconditions Model, Marshall and Barbaree’s (1990) Integrated Theory, and Hall and Hirschman’s (1991) Quadripartite Model. Since these three models do not account for the cycle of CSA, they will only be discussed briefly to explain the foundations of the Pathways Model, which will be considered in some detail.

3.3.1 Four Preconditions Model (1984) Finkelhor (1984) suggests that four preconditions contribute to every sexual offence against a child, and occur in temporal order. First, the offender must be motivated to sexually abuse a child as a result of, first, emotional congruence (i.e. sex with a child is

56 emotionally satisfying for the offender), second, sexual arousal (specifically to children), and third, blockage (i.e. inability to achieve sexual satisfaction in other ways) (precondition 1). These factors manifest in sexual abuse of children as a result of a fourth factor: disinhibition (precondition 2). The offender must overcome internal inhibitions such that the motivation to abuse “will give rise to the behaviour itself” (Howells, 1994, p.206). This may include, for example, consuming alcohol to disinhibit sexual arousal, or cognitively justifying sexual behaviour with children despite awareness of social intolerance to child sex offending. Additional factors are then more offence-specific, including overcoming external inhibitions that affect the possibility of offending (e.g. gaining access to a victim) (precondition 3); before overcoming the child’s resistance (through, for example, grooming practices) (precondition 4).

3.3.2 Quadripartite Model (1992) Hall and Hirschman (1992) based their Quadripartite Model on four components for child sex offending: physiological sexual arousal, cognitive distortions that justify sexual aggression, affective dyscontrol, and personality deficits. Unlike the Preconditions Model, this theory suggests that personality deficits create enduring vulnerabilities to sexually abuse children, but that these are triggered in certain contexts and result in deviant arousal, affective disturbance, and/or distorted thinking. One factor is usually the primary motivator, while each other factor serves to increase the likelihood of offending. Different types of offenders can be identified depending on their primary motivation: a preferential offender would likely be motivated by sexual arousal; situational offenders would be motivated by negative emotional states; while incest offenders would be motivated by cognitive distortions. According to the theory, environmental factors do not motivate offending but place constraints “on a person primed for sexual aggression by specific traits, sexual arousal, cognitive appraisals, and affective dyscontrol” (Hall & Hirschman, 1991, p.665).

3.3.3 Integrated Theory (1990) Marshall and Barbaree’s (1990) Integrated theory emphasises childhood, developmental, sociocultural and situational factors, but the key premise of their theory is biological: males have a biological propensity for sexual aggression. Boys must be “trained” during childhood to constrain aggressive behaviour, but adverse childhood experiences (e.g. poor parenting or CSA) are said to leave the boy unprepared for adolescence, a critical time due to bodily functions that “initiate a strong desire to engage in sex and aggression” (Marshall & Barbaree, 1990, p.261). Sociocultural messages regarding interpersonal violence, male dominance, and negative attitudes toward

57 women, are more important during adolescence when boys develop their sexuality and acquire social skills, and are likely to be internalised by males from adverse backgrounds with higher propensities for aggression, such that

the pubertal release of hormones will serve to fuse sex and aggression, enhance his already acquired aggressive proclivities, and lead to a failure to develop sufficiently strong constraints on the expression of sex and aggression (Marshall & Barbaree, 1990, p.262).

Sex offending behaviours result when disinhibiting environmental factors interact with certain internal states (e.g. alcohol, anger, sexual arousal, stress) and are combined with childhood, developmental, and sociocultural factors.

3.3.4 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of the Models A strength of all three models is their consideration of the heterogeneity of child sex offenders: Finkelhor (1984) captures the diversity of child sex offenders in precondition 1; the Quadripartite model considers the primary motivators for different types of offenders; while the Integrated Theory accounts for various individual and sociocultural factors among offenders. However, since precondition 1 (Finkelhor, 1984) assumes that all child sex offenders are sexually attracted to children, and/or seek relationships with children as an alternative to adult relationships, offenders who are not sexually attracted to children (e.g. opportunistic offenders), or those who can form successful relationships with adults, are overlooked. Similarly, by considering all child sex offenders to be motivated by a biological propensity for aggression, the Integrated Theory overlooks other motivations for child sex offending (e.g. a sexual interest in children) (Marshall & Barbaree, 1990, p.262; Ward, 2002).

The key limitation of all three theories, however, is that they locate the source of child sex offending within the individual, which, as will be discussed in further detail below (see section 3.3.6), is not an empirically supported assumption. Finkelhor’s (1984) precondition 1 considers child sex offenders to be psychologically “abnormal” based on individual deficits in emotional, social and sexual functioning, while the Quadripartite Model implies “that personality deficits are the source of offenders’ vulnerability to sexually abuse children” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.325). The Integrated Theory further suggests that child sex offending stems from men’s biological propensity for sexual aggression, in addition to “abusive or neglectful environments that leave individuals with a number of psychological deficits” (Ward, 2002, p.215).

58 A strength of these models is that they address motivational factors in child sex offending. Finkelhor (1984) considers both motivational (precondition 3) and situational (precondition 4) elements of child sex offending behaviour; the Quadripartite Model considers how situational factors “trigger” inherent vulnerabilities to offend; while Integrated Theory considers developmental, sociocultural, and situational factors in the onset of child sex offending. However, Finkelhor’s (1984) precondition 1 creates a contradictory framework by considering sexual behaviours with children as a “normal” alternative to sexual behaviours with adults (Cossins, 2000), while defining offenders as psychologically different to “normal” men. While a strength of the Preconditions Model is that it considers the complexity of pathways to offending in precondition 2, as well as the temporal nature of offending in preconditions 3 and 4, the model focuses largely on situational factors surrounding the offence (preconditions 2 and 3) without considering in detail the mechanisms by which an offender may become motivated to offend in the first place (precondition 1) (Ward & Hudson, 2001).

The Quadripartite Model’s strengths lie in its ability to identify diverse and distinct pathways to child sex offending. By (albeit briefly) addressing the role of environmental factors, this model also considers why offenders abuse at certain times and not at others (Randall, 2008). However, although “enduring personality problems” are suggested to develop as a result of various adverse childhood experiences, including CSA, there is no clear indication about:

(i) how adverse childhood events produce these deficits; (ii) which adverse events are more likely to produce the deficits mentioned in the model (personality, cognitive, emotional, or sexual); (iii) why such deficits result in sex offending behaviours against children; or (iv) why men would develop these deficits more so than women.

Integrated Theory is less apt to address the cycle of CSA due in large part to its focus on the biological basis of sexually abusive behaviours. While this thesis suggests that that child sex offending behaviours should not be viewed as “abnormal” or “deviant,” it does not suggest that they should be considered “natural” or “biologically determined.” Biological approaches locate the problem of CSA within individuals by considering that sexual behaviours have a genetic or evolutionary basis. For example, Marshall and Barbaree (1990, p.257) suggest that human males must “acquire inhibitory controls over a biologically endowed propensity for self-interest associated with a tendency to fuse sex

59 and aggression,” while Laws and Marshall (1990, p.211) propose that sexual responses to children may be “reproductively advantageous.”

These assumptions lack empirical support (see, e.g., Stinson et al., 2008), and obscure the role of sociocultural factors involved in sexuality, generally, and child sex offending behaviours, specifically. Such theories cannot account for the cycle of abuse, since according to the biological view, all men are predisposed to sexual offending, yet not all men engage in these behaviours. While adverse childhood experiences and sociocultural factors are addressed, there is little consideration of whether, how, or why an experience of CSA would result in a victimised boy being less able to constrain his (biological) proclivity for sexual aggression, nor why sexual aggression would be manifested towards children rather than adults. While research has identified a connection between aggression and rape (Davis, Danube, Stappenbeck, Norris, & George, 2015; Degue, Dilillo, & Scalora, 2010; Malamuth, Check, Briere, & Reis, 1986), this link has not been established in relation to CSA (Shechory & Ben-David, 2005; Ward & Siegert, 2002).

The Preconditions Model identifies the role of social context in child sex offending behaviours, such that motivations to offend may be impacted by emotional development, childhood trauma or biological abnormality, but also by masculine norms that require dominance and power in sexual relationships, or sexualised portrayals of children in the media (Colton & Vanstone, 1996; Finkelhor, 1984). However, Finkelhor’s (1984) analysis tends to reflect a biologically deterministic approach to explaining the male sex drive (e.g. his notion of “blockage”) (Cossins, 2000), or a “sex role” approach to explanations of male sexuality (e.g. influenced by external messages), which does adequately account for social constructions of gender or sexuality.

The Quadripartite Model is limited by its cursory consideration of social context. The focus is “firmly on psychological rather than cultural and environmental variables” (Ward, 2001, p.338), which are only briefly considered as “triggers” for sex offending among already psychologically vulnerable people. While this model focuses on physiological arousal to children as central to child sex offending behaviours, no consideration is given to the fact that “sexual preferences are directed toward specific people or objects and are not simply the product of a diffuse drive” (Ward, 2001, p.343). Thus, the model overlooks the origins of such arousal, and the sociocultural factors that contribute to its development and expression. By contrast, a strength of the Integrated Theory is its acknowledgement of how a person’s wider social context (e.g. familial environment, peer

60 groups) interacts with biological, psychological and developmental factors in pathways to offending. However, Integrated theory’s key assumptions are largely incompatible— by considering child sex offending to be biologically driven, the model does not acknowledge the sociocultural significance of sexually abusive behaviour against children (Cossins, 2000).

Importantly, none of these perspectives adequately account for the gendered nature of child sex offending. Finkelhor (1984) makes no mention of why men would be more likely than women to experience the factors set out in precondition 1. Hall and Hirschman (1992) provide no explanation about why cognitive distortions, deviant sexual arousal or negative emotional states would be more likely to develop in men, nor why men would be more likely than women to have enduring personality deficits that predispose them to sexually abuse children. Likewise, Integrated theory focuses predominantly on biological mechanisms of male sexual aggression and in doing so relegates sociocultural factors and gender relations to the realm of merely solidifying pre-existing proclivities for sex offending.

Finally, none of these models explain how the identified deficits actually lead to sex offending behaviours. Finkelhor’s (1984) model cannot account for why non-sexual needs, such as emotional congruence or blockage, are expressed sexually, and more specifically, are expressed as sexual behaviours with children. Similarly, Ward (2001, p.337) argues that the “personality problems” in the Quadripartite Model “are described in very general terms, so that it is not entirely clear how they translate into offending behaviour.” It is also problematic for the Quadripartite Model to under-emphasise environmental and situational factors, while at the same time implying that without such external triggers, “it is unlikely that an individual will sexually abuse a child” (Ward, 2001, p.338). This removes individual agency from the offender, and places the “cause” of child sex offending on (uncontrollable) individual deficits and (to a lesser degree) (uncontrolled) external triggers.

Although Integrated Theory does not frame child sexual offending as abnormal from a biological standpoint, like other models it does not explain how the identified mechanisms result in child sex offending. For example, Marshall and Barbaree (1990) identify negative attitudes towards women as one of many factors associated with child sex offending, but do not explicitly account for the development of these attitudes, nor why such attitudes would be expressed as sexual (rather than physical) aggression towards children rather than adult women (Ward, 2002). Further, Integrated theory

61 defines child sex offending solely in terms of aggression, yet the assertion that similar biological processes and brain structures are responsible for both aggression and sexual behaviour is lacking empirical support (Randall, 2008, p.18), and the theory cannot account for child sex offenders who are not motivated by aggression.

3.3.5 Pathways Model (2002) To address the limitations of these theories without ignoring their strengths, Ward and Seigert’s (2002) Pathways Model combined the strongest elements of these theories to suggest that four distinct but interacting psychological mechanisms are always present among child sex offenders: intimacy and social skills deficits, distorted sexual scripts, emotional dysregulation, and cognitive distortions. The pathway16 by which a person will become an offender differs depending on which factors are most prominent, with one factor dominating the way in which the behaviour develops and manifests. The cycle of abuse is encapsulated in Pathways Two: Deviant Sexual Scripts and Five: Multiple Dysfunctional Mechanisms.

The key causal mechanism for child sex offending in Pathway Two is a distorted sexual script “that interact[s] with dysfunctional relationship schemas” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.336). This Pathway suggests that offenders may have experienced CSA and “as a consequence become prematurely sexualised” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.336). These offenders are not hypothesised to have a sexual preference for children, nor to prefer sexually abusive behaviours. Rather, these offenders “seek reassurances through sex and equate sex with intimacy” such that emotional closeness “is only achieved via sexual contact” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.337).

Romantic relationships are viewed purely in sexual terms, and these offenders are hypothesised to be sensitive to rejection while craving “love and approval” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.337). Feelings of vulnerability are misinterpreted as a need for sex, and child sex offending may occur “following periods of rejection by adults” since children may be perceived by these offenders as more trustworthy or accepting than adults (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.337). Children are chosen as sexual partners due to “opportunity and sexual and/or emotional need” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.337). Cognitive distortions “will emerge in the attempt to justify or excuse the sexual abuse” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.337). The authors suggest that the onset of offending will typically begin in adulthood

16 Pathway 1: Intimacy Deficits; Pathway 2: Deviant Sexual Scripts (applies to the cycle of CSA); Pathway 3: Emotional Disregulation; Pathway 4: Antisocial Cognitions; Pathway 5: Multiple Dysfunctional Mechanisms (applies to the cycle of CSA) (Ward & Seigert, 2002: 335-340). 62 for these offenders, and will be associated with “periods of rejection, disappointment or extreme loneliness” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.337).

Pathway Five also attributes the development of “deviant sexual scripts” to a history of CSA, though this Pathway is also characterised by “pronounced flaws in all other primary psychological mechanisms” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.339). The authors suggest that this group is likely to comprise pedophiles, that is, those who view children as the “preferred or ideal sexual partner” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.339). These offenders will view these preferences as “legitimate and healthy” and will hold “distorted beliefs concerning [children’s] needs and inclinations” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.340). The authors consider the context of offending by acknowledging that offending is only likely to occur when there is an opportunity to offend (e.g. the presence of a child) and “the absence of any conflicting goals” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.339). However, they suggest that because the flaws in these offenders’ sexual scripts are so pronounced, they will always be at risk of sexually abusing a child because:

sex has become salient at an early age … they will have dysfunctional implicit theories about children’s sexuality and their ability to make informed decisions about sex, inappropriate emotional regulation, and impaired relationship and attachment mechanisms (p.340).

It is hypothesised that the breadth of the flaws in these offenders’ sexual scripts will result in a range of sexually “deviant” behaviour including sadistic or abusive sexual acts, or “unusual practices” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.339). Sexual behaviours will always be undertaken with the aim of achieving pleasure and/or a sense of control. The deviant script will be “activated” in certain contexts:

just as the activation of a restaurant script will lead to the desire for, and actions designed to consume, food, so a sexual script contains goals concerned with the achievement of sexual satisfaction (p.340).

The onset of offending will likely be early, and will be “correlated with entrenched cognitive distortions, deviant sexual arousal, and positive affect in the context of offending” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.340). However, their sexual scripts may “develop and change in response to different types of sexual experiences” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.340).

63 3.3.6 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of the Pathways Model While Ward and Seigert (2002) acknowledge the heterogeneity of offenders by accounting for multiple pathways towards offending, they view child sex offenders as “abnormal” by arguing that a “core set of dysfunctional mechanisms,” which are established via “adverse learning events,” are the causal mechanisms that result in child sex offending (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.320-321). Although they suggest that these “vulnerabilities” may be moderated by various social factors (e.g. family support), the bases of the developmental pathways to offending are founded upon conceptions of individual deficits, where “deviant” sexual behaviour is considered to be “a symptom of a dysfunction in the individual” (Laws & O’Donohue, 2008, p.2). Like SLT, the Pathways Model views child sex offending as “abnormal,” since experiences of CSA “distort” “normal functioning”:

Early abuse may create distortions in developing sexual scripts, due to the fact that children are exposed to sexual experiences before they are cognitively and emotionally ready to process them. By distortions we are simply referring to an aberration (compared to normal functioning) in the structure of a script (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.332).

This is a significant limitation of this model for two reasons. Firstly, locating the source of child sex offending within the “deviant” or “abnormal” individual overlooks the gendered nature of the cycle of CSA. There is no indication in the Pathways Model as to why sexually victimised men, but not sexually victimised women, would develop intimacy and social skills deficits, emotional dysregulation, and/or cognitive distortions after experiencing CSA. As discussed in Chapter 1, research indicates that the psychological and social outcomes for male and female CSA survivors are comparable (Allen et al., 2014; Briere et al., 1988; Dube et al., 2005; Fergusson, McLeod & Horwood, 2013; Paolucci, Genuis & Violato, 2001). The Pathways Model also provides little insight into why men more than women, and only some men, develop “deviant” sexual scripts as a result of CSA, nor why only some men express “dysfunctional mechanisms” in the form of child sex offending.

Secondly, there is evidence to suggest that child sex offenders are neither “deviant” nor “abnormal”, but rather that they are no different in terms of their psychological backgrounds to men who have no history of sexually abusing children (Briere & Runtz, 1989; Freel, 2003; Hartill, 2011; Hayashino et al.,1995; Pierce & Pierce, 1985). In fact, since a minority of men display sexual interest in children (Freel, 2003, p.490), child sex

64 offenders cannot necessarily be considered different to non-offending men, nor can it be assumed that every child sex offender has, themselves, experienced CSA. For example, Briere and Runtz (1989) reported that 21 percent of male undergraduates (n=193) admitted some sexual attraction to small children, while 7 percent indicated a hypothetical likelihood of sex with a child. Hayashino et al. (1995) found that 19 percent of male “laypersons”17 (n=26) reported that if they could be assured of no punishment, there would be some likelihood that they would engage in sexual contact with children. Hartill (2011) therefore argues that “notions of the psychologically damaged/deviant individual obstruct the recognition that men who seek sex with children are indeed normal men” (p.40).

Further, by considering child sex offenders to be “psychologically different” or “sexually deviant” the Pathways Model overlooks the sociocultural nature of such definitions. Variations in the legal age of consent to sexual activity illustrate this point. Within Australia, the legal age at which a person could consent to sexual activity up until the early 1900s was 13-14 years of age (compared to the current 16 years of age) (Boxall, et al., 2014; Carpenter, O’Brien, Hayes & Death, 2014). Variations in ages of consent for heterosexual and homosexual sexual activity have also been found in consent laws (e.g. Angelides, 2005; Bull, Pinto & Wilson, 1991; Waites, 2003). For example, it wasn’t until 2003 that New South Wales lowered the age of consent for homosexual sex from 18 years to 16 years in line with the age of consent for heterosexual sex (Carbery 2010). Similarly, when considering current ages of consent internationally, Australian laws define certain behaviours as CSA that would not be defined as such in other cultures. In a study that compared variations in the age of consent laws across 59 European jurisdictions over time (consent laws in 2004 compared to those in 2016) Zhu and van der Aa (2017, p.24) revealed that:

In the absence of conclusive empirical research in the field of child sexual development, that helps determine the exact age above which children in a particular culture and context are (in general) cognitively mature enough to genuinely consent to sex, domestic legislators remain heavily influenced by other factors as well, such as cultural practice, political lobby, international legal and political developments, gender ideology and ideas pertaining to homosexuality.

17 “Laypersons” included 26 community members “with no known criminal history of child molestation or rape” who were “enrolled in an adult education course in a California community.” (Hayashino et al., 1995, p.108). 65 This explains the wide variety of ages of consent and the different approaches to homosexual sex.

Historical and sociocultural variation in ages of consent (and therefore in the ages at which sex is defined as consensual rather than abusive) are overlooked by the Pathways Model’s definitions of offenders as “deviant” or “psychologically abnormal”. For example, an adult man who has sex with a 14-year-old in present-day Australia would be considered a child sex offender, and therefore to be “psychologically abnormal” or “sexually deviant” according to the Pathways Model. However, this same man would not have been considered “abnormal” or “deviant” in Australia in the 1800s, nor in present day Germany, for example, where the age of consent to sexual activity is 14 years (Zhu & van der Aa, 2017, p.21).

Defining child sex offenders as “psychologically abnormal” and child sex offending behaviours as “sexually deviant,” therefore, provides an inconsistent framework within which to understand the cycle of CSA because it overlooks the sociocultural and historical context in which these definitions are situated. Since “no consensus reliably identifies behavior, people, or conditions that are deviant” (Clinard & Meier, 2011, p.4), Cossins (2000, p.177) suggests that a distinction should be made between “what is abnormal and what is socially unacceptable.” Overlooking this distinction means that the Pathways Model simultaneously overlooks the fact that sexually victimised men may perpetrate CSA for reasons unrelated to psychological deficits, thus obscuring other possible motivations and the situational contexts in which some victimised men sexually abuse children.

While the heterogeneity of offenders is reinforced by demonstrating five potential pathways to offending based on groupings of the four causal mechanisms, the authors provide no empirical justification for grouping offenders according to psychological deficits, and empirical evidence offers limited support for these categories (Gannon, Terriere & Leader, 2012; Middelton et al., 2006; Connolly, 2004). For example, Gannon et al. (2012) only found partial support for the model among an incarcerated sample of 97 child sexual offenders, with the emotional dysregulation and deviant sexual scripts pathways failing to describe offenders’ behaviours within this sample. Among an archival sample of 72 male child sex offenders charged with internet offences (e.g. production, possession or distribution of child pornography), Middleton et al. (2006) found that only half the sample could be assigned to any of the five pathways described by Ward &

66 Seigert (2002). Thus, this studies show that there is little empirical support for the “psychological deficit” approach in the Pathways Model.

Although the Pathways Model relies heavily on the psychological characteristics of child sex offenders to explain the cycle of CSA, Ward and Seigert (2002) strongly suggest that individual deficits alone cannot account for child sex offending:

The causal mechanisms implicated in child sexual abuse are hypothesized to be multiple … These factors include: developmental adversity, cultural values and belief systems, family context, biological variables, psychological deficits, and situational variables. Many of the causal mechanisms will exert both a distal and proximal influence (p.331).

While the key causal mechanism in the Pathways Model between victimisation and offending is psychological, Ward and Seigert (2002) also consider a range of factors that may influence both the development and the expression of individual deficits, which allows for consideration of why only some men who experience CSA develop certain psychological outcomes, and why only some men with these outcomes go on to sexually abuse children. A particular strength of the Pathways Model is that it specifically accounts for variation in experiences of CSA to explain how abuse characteristics may affect the development of specific causal mechanisms that lead to subsequent child sex offending:

We suggest that the sexual abuse of children is moderated by important factors such as the response of others to the abuse, the severity and nature of the abuse, its length of duration and so on … These other factors may function to increase or decrease the chances of a victim becoming an offender (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.341-342).

Despite acknowledging contextual factors in the development and expression of child sex offending, by defining the behaviour as “abnormal” and locating the source of this abnormality within the offender (psychological deficits), the Pathways Model does not account for how thoughts (e.g. deviant sexual scripts) lead to sexual offending specifically against children. On the other hand, by suggesting that the transition from victim to offender is moderated by sociocultural factors in addition to psychological and developmental factors, the Pathways Model aims to account for why only some sexually victimised men become child sex offenders. Ward and Seigert (2002) suggest:

67 cultural factors may influence the kind of attitudes males develop about relationships and the relative status and value of women and children … The mechanisms that facilitate child sexual abuse include dysfunctional beliefs about children’s sexuality and problems effectively regulating negative emotional states, both arguably influenced by cultural values and beliefs (p.342).

While the Pathways Model considers social context and gender in explanations of the CSA cycle, Ward and Seigert (2002) tend to approach gender from a “sex role” perspective, viewing cultural factors that affect men’s “attitudes” and “beliefs” about women and children as external to the individual rather than acknowledging men construct their attitudes and beliefs within their social and cultural contexts. The sex role approach is not empirically supported (e.g. Connell, 2005),18 and, as Connolly (2004, p.56) notes,

the social construction of masculinity and its relationship to sexual offending, while inherent in some of the pathways discussion, is generally underdeveloped and would benefit from greater attention in the model.

This limited engagement with the social construction of gender is evident in the somewhat contradictory nature of Ward and Seigert’s (2002) attempt to combine all potential causal factors into one theory (e.g. psychological, developmental, social, cultural, biological). While a complex issue like CSA may benefit from multiple theoretical perspectives, it is not necessarily useful to combine them all. On the one hand, Ward and Seigert (2002) suggest that men may be more likely to perpetuate a cycle of abuse because of the way CSA is interpreted differently by men and women in their social contexts:

In a society that is arguably male dominated, there are significant differences in the way male and female sexuality is represented and transmitted to children … these may cause male and female victims to interpret their abuse experiences differently and therefore to develop quite different types of distortions in their sexual scripts (p.343).

Yet on the other hand, the authors suggest that men are simply more biologically prone to engage in sexual offending than women:

18 See section 3.4.1.4 for more detail. 68 from an evolutionary perspective … primary adaptations causing sexual offending are males’ greater sexual drive19 and their predilection to engage in impersonal sex ... This tendency may be associated with some of the offence pathways characterised by … confusion of sexual with intimacy needs (p.343).

Not only does including a biological basis further entrench the nature of the problem of CSA within the individual, but it creates an incompatible framework between individual and sociocultural causal mechanisms, limiting explanations of the transition from victim to offender.

Finally, the Pathways Model (2002) suggests that a victim is more likely to become an offender when their experience of CSA produces a distorted model for sexual behaviour. A victim “who enters adolescence with a distorted sexual script” is likely to use it to guide “normative” sexual interactions, which is compounded by sociocultural factors that affect the development of men’s attitudes about relationships and “the relative status and value of women and children” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.342). The Pathways Model does, therefore, attempt to identify factors that may contribute to the fact that sexually victimised boys are more likely than sexually victimised girls to perpetuate a cycle of CSA in its explanation of the causal pathways from victimisation to offending. However, by focusing on individual deficits that are just as likely to be found among sexually victimised women (including distorted sexual scripts), as well as biological propensities for offending, the model does not provide a thorough account of the gendered nature of the cycle. Locating the problem of CSA within individuals’ biology does not adequately explain why only some men sexually abuse children; while the narrow examination of sociocultural factors in the development and expression of “distorted sexual scripts” limits understandings of how an experience of CSA affects sexual scripts, and in what circumstances a distorted script leads to child sex offending. Arguably, what is missing from the Pathways Model, and SLT, can be found in feminist perspectives.

19 The assumption that men have stronger sex drives than women is suggested by some to relate to sociocultural perceptions of, rather than biological differences between, men’s and women’s sex drives (e.g. Baumeister & Twenge, 2002). 69 3.4 The Power/Powerlessness Theory (2000)

The Power/Powerlessness theory (Cossins, 2000) builds on feminist and sociological perspectives to explain the cycle of CSA. Unlike SLT and the Pathways Model, the Power/Powerlessness theory situates child sex offending behaviours within the context of gendered relations of power (Connell, 1995). The theory posits that all men’s lives are characterized by experiences of both power and powerlessness. For some men, engaging in sexual practices with “less socially powerful objects of desire,” such as children, may alleviate experiences of powerlessness if a man has a strong attachment to the link between sexuality and power, and if other masculine resources are unavailable (Cossins, 2016, p.281). The key tenets from feminist and sociological perspectives will be discussed below to explain the foundations of the Power/Powerlessness theory.

3.4.1 Sociological & Gender-Based Approaches: Feminist Perspectives While the “disciplinary breadth in feminist knowledge” results in an “extraordinary range” of feminist perspectives in criminology (Daly, 2008, p.7), this analysis follows Cossins’ (2000, p.41) approach in broadly defining feminist perspectives as those that consider “that the social construction of gender establishes relations of power which are the source of women’s experiences of oppression and disempowerment in relation to men.” Feminist perspectives build on various tenets to explain CSA, including the fact that men are in power (e.g. Cossins, 2000; Kaufman, 1999); that gender is socially constructed (e.g. Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005; Cossins 2000; Daly, 1997, 2008; West & Zimmerman, 1987); that there is not one form of masculinity but multiple masculinities (e.g. Archer, Pratt & Phillips, 2001; Connell, 1992; Daly, 1997); and that hierarchies of masculinities result in men’s differential access to power as well as experiences of both power and powerlessness (Connell, 1996, 2002; Cossins, 2000; Kaufman, 1999; Kimmel, 1994).

3.4.1.1 The Social Construction of Gender Because CSA is overwhelmingly an activity committed by male offenders against female victims, it requires a theoretical underpinning that recognises the power differentials between men and women, and between men and children. Initially, this was conceptualised as “patriarchy” by radical and socialist feminists in an effort to redress the “gender-blind” social theories of the 1960’s and 1970’s (Messerschmidt, 2018). Later feminist scholars identified that “patriarchy” was unable to explain men’s positions of power. By theorising the power differential between men and women in terms of

70 “patriarchy” feminists had created a dichotomy between men and women that obscured differences among men and among women and ignored the need to consider how these theorised binary categories came “to be what they are” (Connell, 1985, p.264). This had the effect of implying that there was “an alleged ‘typical male,’ as if such a male could be empirically found to represent all men” and ignored “the fact that men exercise unequal amounts of control over their own lives as well as the lives of women” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p,14).

From the 1980s, a ”more distinctive feminist approach” focused more on the notion “that individuals are gendered” (Daly & Chesney-Lind, 1988, p.504; Acker, 1989; Butler, 1988; Connell, 1985; Stacey & Thorne, 1985). Cossins (2003, p.83) argues that “gender is an epistemological concept that is the hallmark of the feminist project”, and the feminist focus on gender contributed to the development of theories of gender relations including the concept of “hegemonic masculinity” that will be discussed further below (Connell, 1987; Messerschmidt, 2018).

Examining men’s positions of power over women and children requires clarification of what is meant by “men” and “women”. Early feminist, psychological, and sociological discourse focused on gender as sex role assignation based on biological, anatomical, hormonal and physiological traits (e.g. Parsons, 1954; Parsons & Bales, 1955 cited in Connell, 2005; Hacker, 1957; Ward, McCandless, & Boyd, 1969). Based on these biological and anatomical differences, women were considered inherently different to men—opposite and complementary—and biology became “the foundation of difference and inequality between men and women” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.112-113). Later feminist perspectives acknowledged that gender was socially constructed “through interlocking systems of race, class, and other sources of inequality” (Burgess-Proctor, 2006, p.36; Connell, 2005; Daly, 2008). As a social construction, gender is dependent on interaction (Daly, 1997; Cossins, 2000; West & Zimmerman, 1987), since “it can only be accomplished in the real or imagined presence of other people” (Cossins, 2000, p.97), and is subject to constant change (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). It is neither a “role enactment” (as it is produced in everyday activities), nor is it a “gender display” of sex- linked behaviours, traits, or attributes as “essential properties of individuals” (as it is fundamental in interactions), but rather can be viewed as an “accomplishment” (Daly, 1997, p.37; Cossins, 2000; Jefferson, 2002; West & Zimmerman, 1987).

71 3.4.1.2 The Social Construction of Masculinities What it is to be masculine or feminine, man or woman, therefore, does not necessarily relate to being biologically male or female. Masculine and feminine gender constructions are best understood in terms of how “situations and social practices produce qualities and identities associated with membership in particular social categories” (Daly, 1997, p.37). For example, Wilson Harper, Hidalgo, Jamil, Torres, and Fernandez (2010, p.178) note that while men

may identify themselves as male because of their physical/biological sex characteristics or may be classified as male because of others’ assumptions that they are biologically male, the manners in which they ‘do’ or perform their masculine gender identity is a function of their day-to-day interpersonal interactions and the institutions and systems in which they live.

Accordingly, masculinity is constructed through “body-reflexive practices” (Connell, 2005, p.65): it is not a psychological given nor a “built-in feature of male bodies… but rather “a ‘self’ imputed to an individual based on information given and given off in interaction” (Schrock & Schwalbe, 2009, p.281). As Messerschmidt (2018, p.128) explains, “only through our bodies do we experience the social world, and the very possibility of a social world rests upon our embodiment”. DeFransisco & Palczewski (2007, p.81) similarly clarify that a “person’s body does gender; sex does not simply possess gender traits” (see also West & Zimmerman, 1987). Constructions of masculinity, therefore, “proceed from men’s bodies” (Connell, 1995, p.45). The meanings attached to men’s bodies and what men’s bodies can do are integral to constructing masculinities, which

depends on mastering the requisite bodily, gestural, sartorial, and vocal signifiers… Gaining the full privileges of manhood is thus shown to depend not merely on being recognized as male, but on the whole ensemble of signs that are conventionally taken as evidence of a masculine self (Schrock & Schwalbe, 2009, p.285).

In any specific social setting, there are “forms of embodied behaviour”, or “gender practices” that “people know about and have the capacity or agency to do, assert, perform, or mobilize” (Martin, 2003, p.354). These actions and discourses are “structurally available” to the individual to “enact in an encounter or situation in accord with (or in violation of) the gender institution” (Martin, 2003, p.354). “Doing” gender

72 reproduces these structures and presents gender practices “as resources for others as a consequence of their embodiment” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.127). The body is significant in these practices because it enables or constrains the gender practices that are available, or those that can be successfully performed, by an individual within their social context.

The accomplishment of gender through the successful embodiment of gender practices is described by Messerschmidt (2018, p.129) as “vital to an individual’s situational recognition as a competent social agent”. This recognition depends on both “the successful presenting, monitoring, and interpreting of bodies”, and on the reactions of others to their embodiment:

To be “read” by others as male, female, masculine, feminine, straight, gay, lesbian, and so forth, individuals must ensure that their proffered selves are maintained through situationally appropriate display and behavior … Bodies are active in the production and transmission of social structures as well as embodied social actions, and are based on the reaction of others to our embodiment— whether or not it is judged accountable is important to our sense of self (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.129).

However, to assume that all men adhere to the same constructions of masculinity overlooks the relational nature of gender (Connell, 2005). Stemming from Connell’s (1987, 2005) work, it is now widely accepted that there are many possible masculinities that “are constituted in relation to other masculinities and to femininities- through the structure of gender relations… and through other social structures” (Connell, 1992, p.736; Daly, 1997). This is important for understandings of child sexual offending (Cossins, 2000; Kia-Keating et al., 2005; Price-Robertson et al., 2010) because if all men shared the same version of masculinity (of, for example, dominance, power and sexual prowess), it would not be possible to explain why only a minority of men sexually abuse children as a way to express their power. Rather, power and dominance should be considered in the context of race, class, gender, “sexuality, age, physical ability and other locations of inequality,” such that “people are socially situated according to their differences from one another” (Burgess-Proctor 2006, p.36; Archer, Pratt & Phillips 2001; Connell, 1992, 2005; Cossins, 2000; Daly 1997; Messerschmidt, 1993; Wing, 1997; Winker & Degele, 2011). In this way,

73 specific forms of masculinity are constructed in specific situations, and practices within social settings produce, reproduce, and alter types of masculinity. Thus, we ‘do gender’ … in response to the socially structured circumstances in which we live and within different social milieu diverse forms of masculinity arise, depending upon prevalent structural potentials and constraints … in other words, men do masculinity according to the social situation in which they find themselves (Messerschmidt, 1993, p.83-84).

How men choose to ‘do’ masculinity within their social context has inspired much research into adolescent populations, since it is during the transition from boyhood to manhood that men begin to construct their positions of power, or masculinities. This research indicates that it is through particular gender performances (e.g. the athletic body or the strong body), or the demonstration of some capacities (e.g. strength, endurance and toughness) that “certain masculinities become possible” (Frost, 2003, p.64; Mac an Ghaill, 1994; Messerschmidt, 2018; Swain, 2003). For example, among Hauge and Haavind’s (2011) interviews with male students, the authors found that boys’ masculinities were often constructed based on bodily performances that produced “technically skilled”, “strong”, “defending”, or “scrawny” bodies. The authors concluded that

when boys do some bodily practices while ignoring others, this can be understood as negotiations through which they constitute themselves as subjects within the many intersections of age and gender, and could be added, of a certain sexuality, social class and ethnicity (p.4).

Hauge and Haavind (2011, p.9) noted that success in “demonstrating physicality and athleticism through performance, endurance and competitiveness” provided some boys with an opportunity to construct valued, recognised, and unquestioned masculinities, while bodies that were “untechnical, weak, and unable to defend when in trouble” were rejected. These findings are consistent with Connell’s (2002, p.48) proposition that masculinities do not “sit side-by-side.” Rather, Connell (1996, p.209; 2002, 2005) identified that there is a hierarchy of masculinities, where “some masculinities are more honoured than others [and] some may be actively dishonoured,” resulting in different forms of masculinity that vary across eras and cultures.

74 3.4.1.3 Hierarchies of Masculinities and Hegemonic Masculinity Connell’s (1987, p.175) concept of a hierarchy of masculinities is important for understanding why only some sexually victimised men subsequently sexually abuse children. Building on the work of earlier feminist theorists, Connell (1987) developed the “hugely influential” concept of “hegemonic masculinity” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.26), which Connell (1987, p.185, 1992, 2005) described as “the maintenance of practices that institutionalize men’s dominance over women”. Connell’s (1987) conceptualisation was founded on several tenets. Firstly, hegemonic masculinity can only be constructed in relation to “various subordinated masculinities” and to “emphasized femininity”20 (Connell, 1987, p.183). Connell identified four types of “subordinated” or nonhegemonic masculinities: “complicit” masculinities;21 “subordinate” masculinities;22 “marginalised” masculinities;23 and “protest” masculinities24 (Connell, 1987, p.175-188).

Secondly, hegemonic masculinity is not necessarily achieved by force (though it is not incompatible with “ascendancy based on force”) (Connell, 1987, p.184). Rather, the “notion of ‘hegemony’ generally implies a large measure of consent” (Connell, 1987, p.185). As explained further by Messerschmidt (2018, p.28), hegemonic masculinity can only maintain unequal gender relations by “encouraging all to consent to, coalesce around, and embody such unequal gender relations between men and women, between masculinity and femininity, and among masculinities”.

20 Connell (1987, p.183) described “emphasized femininity” as a form of femininity that is defined around compliance with the global subordination of women to men “and is oriented towards accommodating the interests and desires of men.” Emphasized femininity involves patterns of behaviour “organised around themes of sexual receptivity … and motherhood” such as “the display of sociability rather than technical competence, fragility in mating scenes, compliance with men’s desire for titillation and ego-stroking in office relationships, acceptance of marriage and childcare as a response to labour market discrimination against women” (Connell, 1987, p.187). This form of femininity was argued to pervade the media to an even greater extent than any form of masculinity. These “forms of femininity that are practiced in a complementary, compliant, and accommodating subordinate relationship with hegemonic masculinity” distinguish hegemonic masculinity from other forms of masculinity (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.28). 21 Those that are constructed by “distancing themselves from the direct display of power but accepting the privilege of their gender” (Connell, 1987, p.114). 22 Those that are “expelled from the circle of legitimacy” and involve a “symbolic blurring with femininity” (Connell, 1987, p.79). For example, a “key defining feature of contemporary hegemonic masculinity is that it is heterosexual … and a key form of subordinated masculinity is homosexual” (Connell, 1987, p.186). 23 Refers to “the relations between the masculinities in dominant and subordinated classes or ethnic groups”, where “marginalization is always relative to the authorization of the hegemonic masculinity of the dominant group” (Connell, 1987, p.81) (e.g. working-class masculinities). 24 A “marginalized masculinity, which picks up themes of hegemonic masculinity in the society at large but reworks them in a context of poverty” (Connell, 1987, p.114). 75 Finally, Connell (1987, p.184) argued that hegemonic masculinity “need not correspond at all closely to the actual personalities of the majority of men”. Connell (1987, p.184- 185) explained that the “winning of hegemony often involves the creation of models of masculinity” such as film stars and athletes, even if these models don’t necessarily reflect the “actual characters of men who hold the most social power”.

This initial conception of hegemonic masculinity was well received and was applied to numerous studies on men and masculinities, “replacing sex-role theory and categorical models of patriarchy” (Messerschmidt 2018, p.21). However, the concept was also subject to criticism. In his most recent work on hegemonic masculinity, Messerschmidt (2018) highlights several criticisms of the original formulation that led to the reformulation of the theory in 2005. Such criticism included that “hegemonic masculinity” reduces “masculinity” to essential characteristics of men which provides no further insight into the complexity of gender than early feminist “sex role” approaches (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.34). The concept was also criticised for “being framed within a heteronormative conception of gender … that essentializes male/female differences and ignores difference and exclusion within the gender categories” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.34). Others (e.g. Martin, 1998, p.838; Whitehead 1999) argued that the theory failed to address the question of “who actually represents hegemonic masculinity” and what it “actually looks like in practice” while Martin (1998) and McMahon (1993) suggested that the concept of hegemonic masculinity consistently associated men with purely negative characteristics “that depict men as unemotional, independent, non-nurturing, aggressive, and dispassionate” thus excluding examination of men’s positive “behavior that might serve the interests or desires of women” (Martin, 1998, p.840).

3.4.1.4 Heirarchies of Masculinities and Hegemonic Masculinity: Reformulation of the Concept In 2005, Connell and Messerschmidt reformulated the concept of hegemonic masculinity to address these criticisms and strengthen the theoretical model. Connell and Messerschmidt (2005) retained various elements of the theory that had been supported by empirical evidence such as the relational and legitimization features of the original conception:

The fundamental feature of the concept of hegemonic masculinity remains a combination of the plurality of masculinities and of a hierarchy among hegemonic masculinity and emphasized femininity as well as non-hegemonic masculinities…

76 the original key feature and component of hegemonic masculinities—the legitimation of unequal gender relations— continues to be uncovered as the essence of gender hegemony … The idea that the hierarchy of gender relations is a pattern of hegemony, and not a pattern of simple domination, has also been well supported. Cultural consent, discursive centrality, institutionalization, and the marginalization or de-legitimation of alternatives continue to be widely documented features of hegemonic masculinities (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.47- 48).

Similarly, the original contention that “hegemonic masculinity need not be the commonest and/or the most powerful pattern of masculinity in everyday life” also found support in the empirical literature and was retained in the reformulation (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.48). That gender relations could change, and that hegemonic masculinity could be challenged and contested, were also features of the original conception that maintained validity after empirical scrutiny.

Nonetheless, Connell and Messerschmidt (2005) acknowledged the criticisms of the original conception and discarded several features of the concept, including the attempt to “locate all masculinities (and all femininities) in terms of a single pattern of power”. Instead, the reformulated concept “incorporated a more holistic grasp of gender inequality that recognizes the agency of subordinated groups as much as the power of hegemonic groups, and that includes the mutual conditioning or intersectionality of gender with such other social inequalities as class, race, age, sexuality, and nation” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.69).

Research applying the reformulated theory has revealed that features of some non- hegemonic masculinities may be incorporated into hegemonic masculine patterns (as opposed to being oppressed through discrimination, trivialization, or violence) to create “hybrid masculinities” which continue to reproduce unequal gender relations (Bridges, 2014; Pfaffendorf, 2017; Scheibling & Lafrance, 2019; Schmitz & Haltom, 2016). The original conceptualisation of hegemonic masculinity as the “global domination” of women and children (which implied a single hegemonic masculinity) was also modified to consider the plurality of hegemonic masculinities (in addition to the notion of multiple non-hegemonic masculinities and femininities) such that the theory could now be useful for the analysis of gender relations at the local (e.g. face-to-face interactions in families, organisations, immediate communities), regional (e.g. culture, nation), and global (e.g.

77 transnational politics, business, media) levels (Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005; Messerschmidt, 2015, 2018; Schnurr, Zayts, & Hopkins, 2016).

Finally, the reformulation conceptualised the ways in which hegemonic masculinity “may be challenged, contested, and thus changed” (Messerschmidt, 2018, pp.xi, 69). As described above, since hegemonic masculinity must be constructed in relation to emphasized femininity, different constructions of femininities represent one way that hegemonic masculinity may be challenged (Budgeon, 2014; Schippers, 2007; Schnurr, Zayts, & Hopkins, 2016). Research has also highlighted how “positive” masculinities contest hegemonic masculinities by legitimating an “egalitarian relationship between men and women, between masculinity and femininity, and among masculinities and femininities” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.127; Doucet, 2009; Elliott, 2016; Morell & Jewkes, 2011).

While the conceptualization of hegemonic masculinity involves the reproduction of a hierarchy of inequality between masculinities and femininities, Messerschmidt (2018, p.57) suggests that “hegemony may fail”, power differentials may be abolished and a version of masculinity may be established that is “open to equality with women.” It would then be possible to “define masculinities that are thoroughly ‘positive’”.

3.4.1.5 Heirarchies of Masculinities and Hegemonic Masculinities: Clarifications Inconsistent application of the reformulated concept of hegemonic masculinity in a range of studies prompted Messerschmidt (2018, p.41) to reiterate Connell’s (1987) assertion that the way masculinities are constructed, as hegemonic or otherwise, cannot be reduced to “an assemblage of traits” or “a fixed character type”. As Messerschmidt (2018, p.41) explains, ““masculinity” does not represent a certain type of man but, rather, a way that men position themselves through discursive practices”. Schippers (2007, p.98) further elaborates on this idea:

what actual characteristics and practices are idealized as masculine and feminine is ultimately an empirical question and will vary by context, group, and society… Because of cultural, economic, political, and social variation across groups and societies, what specific features of masculinity and femininity ensure men’s dominance over women as a group will vary depending on context.

Further, because the concept of hegemonic masculinity has “often been oversimplified and misused” in the literature (Lomas, Cartwirght, Edginton, & Ridge, 2016, p.290;

78 Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005; Messerschmidt, 2015, 2018), Messerschmidt (2018, p.76) suggests that it is important to distinguish between hegemonic masculinities and “dominant” forms of masculinity, which are considered to be the most “celebrated, common, widespread, or current” form of masculinity within a particular social context. If “dominant” forms of masculinity do not also reproduce unequal gender relations and are not framed in opposition to femininities (and non-hegemonic masculinities), then they cannot be considered “hegemonic masculinities”. Further, hegemonic masculinities “must be culturally ascendant to provide a rationale for social action through consent and compliance” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.74).

Messerschmidt (2018) further distinguishes between “dominant” and “dominating” masculinities, which is also relevant for understanding CSA. While “dominant” masculinity may be the most common or celebrated form of masculinity within a given social context, “dominating” masculinities involve “commanding and controlling specific interactions and exercising power and control over people and events” (Messerschmidt, 2016, p.55). In several studies from 2009 to the present, Messerschmidt (2009, 2011, 2014, 2015, 2017, 2017a; 2018, 2018a, 2019) clarified the differences between “dominant”, “dominating”, and “hegemonic” forms of masculinity. For example, Messerschmidt’s (2015) case studies included two “wimps” who were bullied during school and revealed the ways hegemonic masculinities are constructed through “relational material practices” and “discursive practices.”25

In his interviews with Sam, one of the “wimps”, Messerschmidt (2015, p.68) found that the “dominant popular boys” (who bullied Sam) “played sports, attended parties, participated in heterosexuality, and had lots of friends.” These boys represented “the most celebrated form of masculinity” in the school, and were therefore constructing dominant forms of masculinity within the hierarchical peer group structures of the school. However, these boys were not, in this sense, “representatives of an in-school hegemonic masculinity” because hegemonic masculinities “acquire their legitimacy by embodying materially and/or symbolizing discursively culturally supported “superior” gender qualities … [only] when they are symbolically paired with culturally defined “inferior” qualities attached to femininity” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.76).

However, Messerschmidt (2015) found that these same boys periodically constructed a local form of dominating hegemonic masculinity within the school when they bullied other

25 How men “do” gender is discussed in further detail in section 3.4.1.7. 79 boys, such as Sam. Sam, and other victims of bullying in the school, were feminized through the practice of bullying, particularly if they did not “respond to the bullying in the way the masculine culture of the school dictates; that is, to physically fight back” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.76). In this context,

the bullies were commanding and controlling the interaction, they were exercising power and control over Sam, they were “calling the shots” and “running the show.” We therefore have the cultural ascendancy of an in-school localized dominating hegemonic masculine and emphasized feminine relationship that simultaneously circulates a legitimating discursive justification for gender inequality. A fleeting dominating hegemonic masculinity was established through the bullies-Sam relationship because Sam was both subordinated and feminized during these interactions and a dominating relationship was established (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.70-71).

In a similar way, CSA inherently involves the reproduction of unequal gender relations through an abuser’s masculine embodiment of “strength and invulnerability” in relation to their victims’ embodiment of “weakness and vulnerability” in a context where the abuser controls the interaction and exercises power over his victim (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.77). When perpetrating CSA, abusers are, therefore, constructing localised dominating hegemonic masculinities. While the distinction between hegemonic, dominant, and dominating forms of masculinity clarifies how each form is different, and provides a basis to understand the context in which child sex offending occurs, as will be discussed below in section 3.4.2, it is also important to consider the aspects of masculine sexuality that are common to all masculinities in order to understand child sex offending as a sexual practice (Cossins, 2000), and the cycle of CSA.

3.4.1.6 Experiences of Power and Powerlessness As the most celebrated forms of masculinity in a given social context, dominant forms of masculinity may be similarly difficult for many men to embody due to the structural inequalities resulting from varied social positions based on class, race, age, ethnicity, sexuality and so forth. It is impossible, therefore, for most men to live up to what Cossins (2000) calls the “Masculine Ideal”26 that pervades any given cultural setting. Nor can most men embody “exemplary” or “ideal” forms of masculinity, which Connell (2002, p.5)

26 A “particular type of sexed male body” that is created in a culture which “valorises… hyper masculine toughness and performance… [and in which] power and sexuality are inextricably linked” (Cossins, 2000: xix). 80 defines as those masculinities that symbolise “admired traits”,27 or that Segal (1990, p.104) identifies as existing in the “various forms of power men ideally possess: power to assert control over women, over other men, over their own bodies, over machines and technology.” Since these are the benchmarks against which manhood is measured (Kimmel, 2003), Schrock and Schwalbe (2009, p.286) note that “adjustments must be made” in the ways men perform gender and construct masculinities.

A considerable amount of research has documented how men “do” masculinities in response to available masculine resources, such as socioeconomically marginalised men who express male power through excessive drinking, violence, objectification of women and/or risky sexual practices (Connell, 2005; Rich, Nkosi, & Morojele, 2015); white college men who perform masculinity through high risk behaviours, such as casual sex, and binge drinking, as evidence of “the body’s ability to tolerate alcohol” (Peralta, 2007, p.741; Sweeney, 2014); and men who use criminal behaviours to demonstrate that they are fearless, powerful, and in control (McFarlane, 2013; Messerschmidt, 1993). Among adolescent samples, Green’s (2005, p.468) analysis of institutionalised sexual abuse revealed “hierarchies of power and prestige in relation to masculinity” in line with those proposed by Connell (2005), where boys conforming to working-class masculinities “further marginalised and harassed those performing alternative masculinities, such as gay and non-macho masculinities.” Similarly, among 32 youths, Baird (2012, p.179, 186) described how:

in socio-economically excluded contexts the gang becomes an attractive vehicle for ‘doing masculinity’ for boys and young men … both youths with violent histories and those that joined the community development organisation CoVida sought to ‘masculinise’. Both did so reflecting traditional and contextual elements of masculinity, and they coveted masculine forms of status, respect, dignity and esteem ... However ... they took divergent routes to manhood because the opportunities available to ‘masculinise’ for youths at CoVida were in fact markedly different to those of ‘violent’ youths.

27 Connell (2005) provides numerous examples of “exemplars of masculinity” (e.g. sportsmen, politicians), and highlights the constraints and contradictions within such forms of masculinity. For example, Connell (2005) describes Steve, a professional swimmer from an affluent, White, middle class background, as a masculine exemplar, whose construction of masculinity also demonstrates constraints (e.g. the struggle to achieve and maintain athletic dominance), and contradictions (e.g. giving up some elements of ideal masculinity, such as drinking alcohol or participating in sexual activities, when in training). 81 Thus, different masculinities are constructed, such that “the experience of different men, their actual power and privilege in the world, is based on a range of social positions” (Kaufman 1999, p.68; Connell, 2002, 2005). What results from such a hierarchy, and unattainable, idealised, dominant forms of masculinity, is that some men enjoy more power and privilege than other men “based on other characteristics such as social class, income, education, ethnicity, sexual orientation or physical strength” (Mankowski & Maton, 2010, p.73; Connell, 2002; 2005; Cossins, 2000; Kimmel, 1994). As explained by Messerschmidt (2016, p.50)

Power is an important structural feature of sex, gender, and sexual relations … in specific contexts some men and some women have greater power than other men or other women; some genders have greater power than other genders; some sexualities have greater power than other sexualities; and the capacity to exercise power and do sex, gender, and sexuality is, for the most part, a reflection of one’s place in sex, gender, and sexual structured relations of power… Power, then, is a relationship that structures social interaction not only between men and women but also among men and among women as well as in terms of gender and sexuality. Nevertheless, power is not absolute and at times may actually shift in relation to different axes of power and powerlessness.

The ways men ‘do’ masculinity serves to both reproduce certain forms of masculinity as well as to enforce certain masculine constructions among other men: “manhood is demonstrated for other men’s approval [since] it is other men who evaluate the performance” such that masculinity “has become a relentless test by which we prove to other men, to women, and ultimately to ourselves, that we have successfully mastered the part” (Kimmel, 1994, p.149,153). Proving one’s masculinity is closely aligned with the concept of “accountability” (West & Zimmerman, 1987), which refers to “individuals anticipating assessment of their behavior” such that they construct their “embodied actions in relation to how such actions may be interpreted by others in the particular social context in which they occur” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.115).

As West & Zimmerman (1987, p.136) note, “to ‘do’ gender is not always to live up to normative conceptions of femininity or masculinity; it is to engage in behavior at the risk of gender assessment”. Doing masculinity, therefore, involves doing sex (men and women), gender (masculinities and femininities) and sexualities (heterosexual, homosexual, etc.) using “structurally available gender and sexual practices appropriate to one’s sex category in the specific social situation in which one acts” (Messerschmidt,

82 2018, p.115). Kimmel (1994, p.148) notes that “as adolescents, we learn that our peers are a kind of gender police, constantly threatening to unmask us as feminine, as sissies.” That men ‘police’ other men’s masculinities through a variety of social practices is reflected in studies of schools as sites for the production and enforcement of masculine hierarchies. In Martino’s (2000a, p.109) interviews with Australian high school students, maintaining status among peers, and avoiding harassment and ridicule, largely depended on adhering to “certain rules” of masculine conduct. Bullying and exclusion were central to the lives of boys who failed to embody dominant forms of masculinity in Mac an Ghaill’s (1994) study. Similarly Swain’s (2003, p.305) research into UK schools revealed that the dominant form of masculinity across the schools was:

constructed around activity and, in particular, various forms of embodied physicality/athleticism (exemplified through skill, strength, fitness and speed), and boys who did not wish to, or were unable to, use these resources generally found themselves marginalised and/or subordinated.

Thus, the role of the body in the construction of masculinity appears paramount among adolescent boys whose bodies and the bodies of others serve as reference points for defining the success or failure of their masculine performances (Cossins & Plummer, 2016; Hauge & Haavind, 2011; Messerschidt, 2018).

This “production, negotiation and policing” of masculine credentials continues throughout adulthood (Martino, 2000b, p.106), where, for example, Wilson et al. (2010) found that among young men of varying (non-hetero) sexual orientation, those who did not conform to dominant forms of masculinity experienced “verbal and physical forms of social pressure” to do so. Men “must continually strive to maintain their masculine credentials” (Cossins, 2000, p.108) in relation to other men, which led Tremblay and Turcotte (2005, p.133) to consider masculinity as “fragile”, where “men chronically doubt their masculinity and feel they have to prove to others and themselves that they are real men.” This is commonly achieved by:

complying with the prevailing sexual stereotype … that is, being strong, stoical, in control of the situation, active, aggressive, and powerful ... [which] compels men to be competitive with each other … resulting in … an interpersonal dynamic dominated by issues of power and violence in which men oppress women, themselves, and each other (Tremblay & Turcotte, 2005, p.133).

83 Although there may be various hegemonic masculinities that are individually practiced in a variety of ways, hegemonic masculinities are “expansively distributed as culturally ascendant prototypes of gender relations throughout local, regional, and global levels, they are part of normal, everyday life” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.106; Messerschmidt 2018b, p.90). As “configurations of social practice”, they:

are culturally significant because they shape a sense of what is “acceptable” and “unacceptable” gendered behavior for copresent interactants in specific situations (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.106; Messershcmidt 2018b, p.90).

Despite such variations in available gender practices, and in the ways men practice gender, a common underlying theme is the desire to belong to the privileged gender group (particularly evident in Connell’s (1987) concept of “complicit masculinities” above), which “in competitive hierarchical societies” involves putting on a “creditable manhood act” that signifies a capacity to exert control (over self, others and the environment) (Schrock & Schwalbe, 2009, p.286). As Connell (2005, p.79) argues, while the “number of men rigorously practising the hegemonic pattern in its entirety may be quite small,” since men in general benefit from the “overall subordination of women,” they are likely to strive to achieve power within their social and cultural constraints. However, in relation to the social positions of other men, “the interplay of constraints and possibilities,” and “processes of exclusion and incorporation,” mean that not all men experience power individually (Connell, 1992, p.736, 738, Kimmel, 1994). Messerschmidt (2018, p.131-132) explains that:

In certain situations individuals may… be identified by others as embodying gender “failure.” The constitution of hegemonic masculinities through bodily appearance and performance means that sex and gender accountability are vulnerable when the situationally and socially structured appropriate appearance and performance are not (for whatever reason) sustained … Such challenges arise from interactional threats and insults from peers, teachers, parents, or workmates and from situationally and bodily defined expectations that are not achievable. Challenges, then, in various ways, proclaim a man or boy or a woman or girl subordinate in contextually defined embodied terms.

In striving to achieve the “dominant ideals of manhood,” the ways that individual men will accomplish a “creditable manhood act” will depend on “the interaction of… sex, race, class, sexual orientation, ethnicity, religion, intellectual and physical abilities, family

84 particularities, and sheer chance” (Kaufman, 1999, p.64; Connell, 2002, 2005), resulting in varying experiences of both power and powerlessness (Connell, 1987, 2005; Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005; Cossins, 2000; Kimmel, 1994; Messerschmidt, 2000). For example, Kaufman (1999, p.61) notes:

While most men cannot possibly measure up to the dominant ideals of manhood, these maintain a powerful and often unconscious presence in our lives. They have power because they describe and embody real relations of power between men and women, and among men.

Thus, Cossins (2000, p.144) contends that “experiences of powerlessness are as central to the cultural experience of ‘manhood’ as are experiences of power.”

3.4.1.7 Masculine Social Practices Not all marginalised men who are unable, or choose not, to ascribe to the dominant forms of masculinity consistently lack power, while privileged men who do conform do not consistently experience power. Rather, it is the interactions men have (with other men) within these social structures that will influence their experiences of power and powerlessness (Cossins, 2000; Kaufman, 1999). For example,

a man who has little social power in the dominant society, whose masculinity is not of a hegemonic variety, who is the victim of tremendous social oppression, might also wield tremendous power in his own milieu and neighbourhood vis-à- vis women of his own class or social grouping or other males, as in the case of a school-yard bully or a member of an urban gang who certainly does not have structural power in the society as a whole (Kaufman 1999, p.69).

In these varied contexts, men will engage in particular “masculine social practices” (Cossins, 2000, p.106) when they feel that their social positions of power are at risk, often “through control and domination of an identified less powerful individual or group.” Masculine social practices allow a man to “overcome experiences of powerlessness, in circumstances where to lose power is akin to losing ‘manhood’” (Cossins, 2000, p.110; Jefferson, 2002). As Messerschmidt (2018, p.131-132) explains, challenges to a man’s construction of masculinity (e.g. threats and insults from others):

may motivate social action toward specific situationally embodied practices that attempt to correct the subordinating social situation… Given that such

85 interactions question, undermine, and/or threaten one’s sex, gender, or sexuality, only contextually “appropriate” embodied practices can help overcome the challenge. The existence of challenges alerts us to the transitory and fleeting nature of sex and gender construction—including hegemonic masculinities—and to how particular forms of social action may arise as gendered practices when they are regularly threatened and contested.

Vandello et al. (2008) found links between men’s experiences of powerlessness in relation to other men, and masculine social practices (namely physical aggression) as a means of overcoming this powerlessness. Vandello et al. (2008, p.1335) administered tests of gender identity to a sample of 560 American college students, and found that “when faced with feedback that they did not measure up to others of their gender, men (but not women) showed increased anxiety- and threat-related thoughts.” This anxiety was likely to lead to physical aggression due to the need for men to live up to standards of masculine behaviours and “the continual pressure to prove oneself” (Vandello et al., 2008, p.1335). Consequently, Vandello et al. (2008, p.1335) concluded that “men experience their gender as a tenuous status that they may at any time lose and about which they readily experience anxiety and threat,” which the authors considered unsurprising given the “unattainable standard.”

It is clear, then, that hegemonic and dominant forms of “manhood [are] only possible for a distinct minority” (Kimmel, 1994, p.149), and various masculine social practices (e.g. aggression) may be employed by men to reassert their power when they feel that it has been threatened. It is important to note, however, that men are not detached from their actions such that “masculinity is invoked to explain men’s behaviour, as if masculinity were an independent variable that caused men to behave in more or less oppressive ways” (Schrock & Schwalbe, 2009, p.181).

Masculinities are embodied within relational and discursive social structures that “construct the knowledge we use to engage in particular practices” and “actualize specific forms of understandings that define what is normal, acceptable, and deviant in particular social situations” (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.118). However, these social structures are not always accepted by individuals. Individuals engage in “reflexivity” which involves “internal conversations with oneself about particular social experiences” that allow them to “decide how to respond appropriately” based on available gender practices and social resources within their social context (Messerschmidt, 2018, p.116- 119).

86 Further, by emphasising that masculinities are constructed through interaction, Connell (2005) explains why masculinity cannot be viewed in static and unchanging terms: to do so is to risk reducing gender to biological essentialism, which promotes the view that men, compared to women, are “genetically programmed,” or “naturally more” inclined to be dominant, aggressive, competitive, powerful, and promiscuous (Connell, 2005, p.48):

there is no evidence at all of strong determination in this sense. There is little evidence even of weak biological determination of group differences in simple individual behaviours. And the evidence of cross-cultural and historical diversity in gender is overwhelming (Connell, 2005, p.47).

Similarly, semiotic approaches that start with the basis of biological sex difference but consider the body to be “a canvas to be painted” (Connell, 2005, p.50) with cultural representations and symbols of masculinity and femininity, focus on culture to the exclusion of the body itself, which creates a similarly inadequate construct by which to understand gender. As Connell (2005) notes, this ignores the fact that “the surface on which cultural meanings are inscribed is not featureless, and it does not stay still. Bodies, in their own right, do matter” (p.51).28 Constructions of ‘masculinities’ and ‘femininities’ “point beyond categorical sex difference to the ways men differ among themselves and women differ among themselves, in matters of gender” (Connell, 2005, p.69).

Sex role theory appears to offer a middle ground between the biological determinist and semiotic approaches by considering that gender involves “enacting a general set of expectations which are attached to one’s sex” and are internalised through processes of socialisation and social learning (Connell, 2005, p.22). This approach is used in both the SLT and the Pathways Model. The problem with this approach to conceptualising gender, however, is that a “remarkable amount of ‘sex difference’ research” found little to no evidence for sex differences “on almost every psychological trait measured” (Connell, 2005, p.21). Further, because male and female sex roles are considered “complementary” and “reciprocal,” defined by “expectations and norms” and attached to “biological status,” there is little engagement with the gender politics of power and oppression (Connell, 2005, p.24-25), making sex role theory “unworkable as a general framework for social analysis” (p.26).

28 This is evident in the research into adolescent constructions of masculinity discussed above in Section 3.4.1.2 that often focus almost entirely on the body and what the body can do. 87 Thus, to suggest that certain “masculine social practices”, such as aggression, are biologically determined for all men, or that cultural “sex roles” account for, or excuse, such acts as “naturally masculine”, ignores the fact that these behaviours are social practices, produced through interaction and reflexivity, and undertaken within the interlocking power structures of class, race, gender, and sexuality that result in masculinities being “constructed through practices that exclude and include, that intimidate, exploit” (Connell, 2005, p.37). Since “gender is a way of structuring social practice in general… it is unavoidably involved with other structures” (Connell, 2005, p.75), where, for example, the relational nature of masculinities means that White men’s masculinities cannot be constructed without reference to White women and Black men, while working-class masculinities cannot be understood without consideration of class as well as gender (Connell, 2005).

The key point is that the biological “does not determine the social” (Connell, 2005, p.71). Rather, by considering gender, or “masculine social practices” (Cossins, 2000), analytic attention is placed on what men actually do to claim privilege, elicit deference, resist exploitation, exert dominance, or experience power. Cossins (2000, p.111) asks whether child sex offending is a “particular masculine social practice” that alleviates individual men’s feelings of powerlessness as a result of their relationships with other men. And if so, what is it about sexually abusing children that counteracts such feelings of powerlessness? It is these questions, among others, that Cossins (2000) addresses in her Power/Powerlessness theory.

3.4.2 Power/Powerlessness Theory In developing the power/powerlessness theory, Cossins (2000) draws on feminist perspectives, and specifically the work of Connell (1983, 1987, 1995), by acknowledging that men practise numerous masculinities. However, Cossins (2000) argues that since “the connection between sexuality and masculinity is undeniable” (Messerschmidt, 2000, p.287), for all men, “sexuality is an important practice for the accomplishment of gender, the reproduction of masculinities and experiences of power” (Cossins, 2000, p.111). By focusing less on the differences among masculinities, but rather on the aspects of masculine sexuality that are common to all masculinities, Cossins (2000) describes a situation where some men gain experiences of power through sex with children when their masculinity is threatened by the masculine social practices of other men (Cossins, 2000).

88 That sexuality is central to constructions of masculinity is evidenced by the fact that homophobia and (hetero)sexism are the organising principles of cultural definitions of manhood that serve to “shape the daily experiences of all men” (Kaufman, 1999, p.74). Schippers (2007, p.90) suggests that “heterosexual desire” is a “defining feature for both women and men” since it:

establishes the meaning of the relationship between masculinity and femininity. Regardless of one’s sex category, the possession of erotic desire for the feminine object is constructed as masculine and being the object of masculine desire is feminine.

Heterosexual desire, therefore, “binds the masculine and feminine in a binary, hierarchical relationship” (Schippers, 2007, p.90). The binary relationship between men and women comes from “the cultural construction of embodied sexual relations, along with other features of masculinity and femininity” that define masculine sexuality as “physically dominant in relation to femininity” (Schippers, 2007, p.90). In addition to the cultural differences ascribed to male and female bodies (Cossins, 2003), masculine hierarchies are also constructed “by racism, sexism, and homophobia” such that masculinity is “proved” among men through practices that demonstrate an opposition to those with less social power: “women, gay men, non-native-born men, men of colour become the ‘other’ against which heterosexual men project their identities” (Kimmel 1993, p.32; 2000). For example, among a community sample of 39 young males, Wilson et al. (2010, p.176) found that definitions of masculinity were often centred around being the opposite of feminine:

people would say, “Oh, you’re acting like a girl” because you don’t do things that a guy should do … It’s not being macho … And my brothers, between my brothers and my father, what they practically burned into my head is that men don’t cry (18-year-old homosexual man).

Green’s (2005, p.468) study of institutionalised sexual abuse also demonstrated that homophobia is central to men’s conceptions of masculinity, even at a young age, since “boys who did not conform to stereotypical notions of working-class masculinity were often marginalised, derided and ridiculed”:

89 If a boy was effeminate, if he had a high voice, if he didn’t associate with girls, if he didn’t like rough and tumble, the other lads would say he was queer (Residential Worker).

3.4.2.1 Masculine Sexuality and Experiences of Power and Powerlessness Thus, sexuality is a “major cultural site” for the reproduction of power relations among men, as well as among men and women, such that masculine sexual practices (e.g. homophobia) serve to “encourage certain types of male behaviour and… define the limits of ‘acceptable’ masculinity;” create “gender distinctions between men;” and provide a way for men to prove or exaggerate their masculinity (Cossins, 2000, p.113, 115-117, 144; Kaufman, 1999). Constructions of masculine sexuality are also predicated on the ability to be sexual. This involves “sexing the male body”

which means the attribution of particular cultural values to the male body to create a cultural (or sexed) body: virile, potent, penetrating, initiating, aggressive, conquering, focused, piercing, incisive, strong, purposeful, erect, unemotional, tough, hard-hitting, as well as weakness and impotence, such that the male body becomes a site for both success and failure (Cossins & Plummer, 2016, p.8).

For some men, proving one’s masculinity through sexual performance is central to their worth as men. Wilson et al. (2010, p.175) reported that sexual activity was central to the definitions and expressions of masculinity among their community sample of 39 young males, who were “expected to be highly sexualized, avoid emotional attachment in sexual relationships, and take a conquest perspective toward sex” due to “internal and external pressure to “prove” their masculinity through sex” (p.182). Given the centrality of sexuality to constructions of masculinity and experiences of power, when men attempt, but do not live up to masculine ideals “in the arenas of education, employment, sport, family life or peer groups, a man or male adolescent might resort to other activities from which he can derive a sense of power” (Cossins & Plummer, 2016, p.12). Cossins (2000, p.122) suggests that for some men, sexual interactions with objects perceived to have less social power (including, for example, prostitutes or pornography) may alleviate, or at least displace, feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness that result from trying (and failing) to live up to the unrealistic standard of the Masculine Ideal (Cossins, 2000) within the constraints of their social context.

If men are able to reassert their masculinity through sex with less powerful partners, Cossins (2000) then argues that a child would be an “ideal” choice, in a “cultural

90 environment where the bodies of children are sexualised and inscribed with cultural meanings of desire and vulnerability in literature, the media, advertisements, film and pornography” (Cossins & Plummer, 2016, p.18). She refers to Fracher and Kimmel’s (1995) assertion that men may choose passive and non-threatening sexual partners so as to (more easily) accomplish masculinity in arguing that a man’s choice of a child as a sexual partner:

can be equated with a man’s confirmation of his manhood through the reproduction of normative masculine sexual practices [as] … a child has an inferior social status and represents no threat to an offender’s sexual performance ... Children are ‘small and frail’ and ‘do not threaten a man’s size or strength’, they are … taught to be compliant and obedient in the face of adult authority (Cossins 2000, p.125-126).

Consistent with this, when Elliott, Browne and Kilcoyne (1995, p.586) interviewed 91 men convicted of sex offences, they found that “41 percent had found sex with children less threatening than sex with an adult and 25 percent felt that sex with children gave them a new and positive experience after having had bad sexual experiences with peers.” Thus, for some men, sexual practices with a child may be a key masculine social practice through which power is gained and masculinity is accomplished. However, Cossins’ (2000) contention that child sex offending is an extension of normative masculine sexual practices has been subject to criticism. Purvis & Ward (2006) and Ward et al. (2006) argue that feminist perspectives more broadly, and Power/Powerlessness theory specifically, are limited by the fact that they ignore the biological and psychological factors related to child sex offending (Purvis & Ward, 2006; Ward et al., 2006):

It is puzzling that so many feminist writers seemingly refuse to acknowledge decades of etiological research evident in psychological literature, much of which delves far beyond experiences of power/powerlessness …This … points to a lack of empirical scope and explanatory depth (Ward et al., 2006, p.178).

However, to reject the notion of child sex offending as a masculine sexual practice would mean accepting one (or both) of the two possible alternative explanations: that CSA is biologically driven by men’s genetic propensity for sexual aggression, or that child sex offenders are psychologically disturbed or deviant individuals. As discussed, neither of these propositions are empirically supported (Cossins, 2000; Briere & Runtz, 1989; Freel, 2003; Hayashino et al., 1995; Stinson et al, 2008). Instead, Cossins (2000: xxiii)

91 suggests that, since not all men sexually abuse children (or sexually abuse at all) in an attempt to relieve experiences of powerlessness, “experiences of powerlessness do not, of themselves, explain why a man engages in sexual behaviour with children.” Rather, for some men, criminal behaviours may be a suitable resource for accomplishing and affirming masculinity and power when “particular social conditions present themselves [and] when other masculine resources are unavailable” (Cossins, 2000, p.128).

Specifically, Cossins (2000) suggests that it is an individual man’s link between, or attachment to, sexuality and experiences of masculinity that will determine how, and with whom, he engages in sexual practices, such that “access, opportunity, and morality may affect whether a man chooses a child to experience power through sexual practices.” Men with stronger attachments to the link between sexuality and power may be more likely to engage in such practices. This final tenet of Cossins (2000) theory distinguishes her perspective from other perspectives that have framed CSA in terms of power, powerlessness, and sexuality (e.g. Messerschmidt, 1993, 1999, 2005, 2012, 2016, 2018).

For example, Messerschmidt (1993) combined feminist, social constructionist, and structured action perspectives to account for the link between masculinities and criminal behaviour. By admonishing the concept of “sex roles” and viewing both gender and sexuality as social constructions, Messerschmidt (1993, p.84), like Cossins (2000), presented a theory that viewed crime as a “masculine resource” when a man’s masculinity is under threat, and when other resources are unavailable for “masculine accomplishment” (Messerschmidt, 1993, p.84-85). Although Messerschmidt (1993) included coercive sexual practices (sexual harassment and rape) in his analysis, he did not specifically examine child sex offending at this time. However, Messerschmidt’s (2000, 2011, 2016) later work considered the construction of certain types of masculinity in the commission of child sex offences. As discussed in section 3.4.1.5, in numerous publications Messerschmidt (2000, 2011, 2016, 2018) presented the life history of Sam, a “wimp” who experienced severe bullying in school and subsequently sexually abused two eight-year-old girls.

Messerschmidt’s analysis of Sam’s life history demonstrates how child sex offending may be a suitable masculine resource for accomplishing a certain type of (localized dominating hegemonic) masculinity in the absence of other available masculine resources. As a result of being bullied at school, Sam “lacked masculine resources and therefore reflexively he felt extremely powerless, distressed, and subordinate at school

92 … he was … femininized in this setting” (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.72). During adolescence, Sam learned to both desire and objectify girls in line with the “culturally ascendant heterosexual social structure practiced in the form of schoolboy discursive chat” (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.72). However, Sam’s subordinated position at school meant that he felt unable to fulfill the “situationally defined dominant masculine criterion” of initiating sexual encounters with girls his own age (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.73).

To overcome his experiences of powerlessness and “negative masculine feelings”, Sam turned to controlling behaviours “involving the use of sexual power” (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.73). Due to his lack of masculine resources, Sam relied on a “specific form of masculine behavior that was available to him—expressing sexual control and power over younger girls” within the context of babysitting (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.74).

Through child sex offending, Sam constructed a “localized dominating hegemonic masculinity” since the abuse produced an unequal gender relation between Sam’s masculine embodiment of “strength and invulnerability” and his victims’’ embodiment of “weakness and vulnerability”. He thus constructed “’inferior’ emphasized feminine survivors and a ‘superior’ hegemonic masculine perpetrator” within a context where Sam exercised aggressive control over his victims and the situation (Messerschmidt, 2015, p.77).

Messerschmidt similarly found in other studies (e.g. 2011) that the boys he interviewed had experienced severe bullying prior to perpetrating CSA, and had thus been gendered subordinate (powerless) in school prior to engaging in sexual offending as a means of overcoming that subordination and claiming for themselves a superior masculine status based on the exercise of power over another. For example, in his case studies of two adolescent sex offenders, Sam (discussed above) and Zack, Messerschmidt (2011, p.124-125) found that both boys constructed (localized) dominating hegemonic masculinities,

whereby they were commanding and controlling the violent interaction, they were exercising aggressive and dominating power over the girls and the situation, they were calling the shots and running the show. Neither boy viewed their behavior as sexual violence, but rather as a legitimate and permissible way to “do” heteromasculinity: a dominating and controlling form that centered on sexual conquest. Both Sam and Zack felt entitled to sexual access and entitled to use as much manipulative coercion as necessary to succeed.

93 Messerschmidt’s central argument, therefore, aligns with Cossins’s (2000) contention that the concept of power/powerlessness is inherently related to gender (and the construction of hegemonic masculinities) because Cossins’s (2000) theory considers broad examples of powerlessness that may produce sexual offending behaviours, specifically against children, if sexuality is a particularly important site for the accomplishment of masculinity.

However, Messerschmidt’s focus on the experience of bullying and subsequent child sex offending in all of his case studies does not specifically address why these boys chose to sexually abuse children, or to sexually abuse at all, as a means to overcome their experiences of powerlessness. In other words, since not all bullied boys become child sex offenders, the link between the experience of powerlessness as a result of being bullied and the experience of personal power achieved through child sex offending specifically (as opposed to power achieved through another masculine resource) is not well established in Messerschmidt’s theory.

When Cossins and Plummer (2016) re-analysed two of Messerschmidt’s (2000) case studies, they found that the crucial links between these boys’ experiences of bullying and their subsequent child sex offending were “their experience of powerlessness” and that they “learnt to associate their developing sexuality with power when no other masculine resources were available” (Cossins & Plummer, 2016, p.17). That sexuality is central to masculinity is widely accepted, but whether sexuality is particularly important to how child sex offenders construct their masculinity, and whether they equate masculinity and power with sexual activity with children, is an essential link in Cossins’ (2000) theory that is not addressed in Messerschmidt’s work. However, this assertion has been challenged for its inability to account for the various motivations inherent in child sex offending (Hartill, 2011; Purvis & Ward, 2006; Ward et al., 2006). For example, Purvis and Ward (2006, p.308) suggest that:

men are likely to seek out sexual contact with children for a variety of different reasons, perhaps to experience power and control, or sexual gratification but possibly to experience intimacy and affection (Bickley and Beech, 2001; Hudson et al., 1999; Ward, 2000). To say that men engage in sex with children purely in order to gain, regain, or maintain power represents a limited understanding of the diversity of offender motives.

94 Hartill (2011, p.47) also suggests that by focusing on a man’s inability to embody masculine ideals, the Power/Powerlessness theory essentially assigns the motivation for child sex offending to individual deficits (in the same way as psychological and biological perspectives):

constructing these men’s actions as a reaction to stressful situations couched within a psychology of weakness, lack, deficit, etc. seems to move the debate back towards the perpetrator with pathological failings … Do these men choose sexual activity with a child as an expression of masculinity, or do they somehow succumb to it, driven to it, because of their (apparent) inability to live up to normal masculine standards?

However, Cossins (2000, p.128) clearly identifies child sex offending as a choice, among many masculine social practices, for the accomplishment of masculinity. Although this choice is influenced by the social context in which a man finds himself, it does not pre- determine his behaviour. More specifically, Cossins (2016, p.280-281) rejects Purvis and Ward’s (2006) contention that offenders may seek intimacy when abusing their victims by highlighting the power differential between adults and children:

The sexual abuse of a child is not akin to a romantic liaison with an adult … Purvis and Ward (2006) do not recognize that offenders seek to satisfy these needs [for intimacy] with a child, that is, by projecting them onto a human being who does not have the emotional maturity for intimacy nor the ability to meet adult needs for affection … [H]ow credible are [offenders’] excuses of intimacy and affection when the method of meeting these needs involves the use of manipulation, control, threats and/or force to commit a crime and to keep a child silent?

Further, Hartill’s (2011) critique that “inabilities to achieve masculinity” amount to individual deficits ignores the fact that such experiences are not unique to child sex offenders, nor do they make child sex offenders different from non-offending men (as psychological deficits do); these are common experiences for all men. In fact, the strengths of feminist perspectives, and specifically of the Power/Powerlessness theory, is that by considering individual men’s motivations for child sex offending (i.e. their attempts to accomplish masculinity), and their different social locations (based on class, race, sexuality, age, etc.), a vast array of motivations for offending are accounted for.

95 Moreover, there is empirical support for Cossins’s (2000) contention that child sex offenders may demonstrate a link between power and sexuality. Mankowski and Maton (2010 p.75) reported that “men who more strongly endorse or are more conflicted about… masculinity expectations experience decreased well-being and increased problem behaviours, including perpetrating violence and using controlling behaviours with relationship partners.” Similarly, among child sex offenders (n=10), violent offenders (n=15), and non-offending controls (n=20), Kamphuis, de Ruiter, Janssen and Spiering (2005, p.1360) found a “preconscious link between the concepts of power [associated with superiority, toughness, and dominance] and sex among men who molest children.”

3.4.3 Key Assumptions, Strengths and Weaknesses of the Power/Powerlessness Theory When applied to the cycle of CSA specifically, Cossins’ (2000) Power/Powerlessness theory may fill in the gaps that remain after an analysis of boys’ lived CSA experiences by addressing the impact of their social environment. The literature review in Chapter 2 revealed considerable variation among boys’ CSA experiences, which distinguished their experiences from those of girls, but could not definitively identify what it is about boys’ lived experiences that leads them to sexually abuse children in adulthood, nor why some, but not all, sexually abused boys become child sex offenders. Since various studies discussed in Chapter 2 indicated that girls and boys perceive, respond to, and interpret their CSA experiences differently, it was suggested that different CSA characteristics (e.g. age at onset, severity, duration, frequency of abuse) may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender because of the ways boys and girls interpret them within their social contexts. Consistent with this, the Power/Powerlessness theory indicates that it may be how boys make sense of particular experiences of abuse within their social contexts, compared to girls, that impacts their likelihood of sexually abusing children in adulthood, where:

a boy’s experiences of powerlessness as a result of being sexually abused may affect the relationships he has with men in general and other boys, such that powerlessness and sexuality become central and defining features of his masculinity, and, hence, his experiences of self-worth (Cossins, 2000, p.195).

CSA characteristics that heighten a boy’s experiences of powerlessness (e.g. force, duration, grooming, negative response to disclosure) may, therefore, be implicated in the transition from victim to offender. Finkelhor and Browne (1985) suggest that powerlessness is a significant consequence of sexual abuse, while Kia-Keating et al.

96 (2005, p.170) note that “sexual abuse intrinsically undermines feelings of power and control for male victims and, therefore, imparts a stark contrast to the societal construction of the sexually virile male.” As a result, victimised boys who become perpetrators of CSA in adulthood may have experienced “sufficient powerlessness as a result of the abuse to later question their adequacy as men,” in addition to powerlessness as a result of their relationships with other boys and men (Cossins, 2000, p.195). For example, Briggs and Hawkins (1996, p.230) reported that among their sample of incarcerated sexually offending men, it was:

abundantly clear that offenders had been seriously damaged by sexual abuse in childhood. They suffered from low self-esteem, often failed in the education system, often experienced chronic unemployment and ill health, failed to create and maintain healthy social relationships with adults and adopted anti-social behaviours.

Cossins’ (2000) theory identifies these effects as indicative of persistent experiences of powerlessness among CSA victims. When men learn “from the abuse that their worth is defined in sexual terms, and that sexuality is the vehicle for acceptance,” this may explain why “some, but not all, men who are victims of child sexual abuse, themselves, commit child sexual abuse” when other masculine resources are unavailable (Cossins 2000, p.195-196). Thus, while “sexuality can also be a site for experiences of powerlessness, as a result of being sexually abused, coercive sexual practices may provide experiences of potency or power for some men” (Cossins & Plummer, 2016, p.9). Boys who experience CSA may learn that sexuality is an important part of their masculine identity, and may develop a particular attachment to the link between personal power and masculine sexual practices, such that they “use sexual behaviours with children to compensate for their perceived lack of manhood” throughout their lives (Cossins 2000, p.195-196). Cossins’ (2000) theory, therefore, considers the broader social context in which offenders engage in sexual behaviour with children, and argues that even if a causal link between being a victim and becoming a perpetrator is weak, CSA in combination with other social factors may explain such a link, including:

(i) How the abuse affects a boy’s relationship with his father, other male relatives and male peers; (ii) The degree of powerlessness experienced in those relationships; and (iii) A social environment that teaches a boy that sexuality is an important site for the reproduction of power and masculinities.

97 A key limitation of Cossins’ (2000) theory, however, is that it was developed by re- analysing interviews previously conducted by Colton and Vanstone (1996). Cossins’ (2000) re-analysis was necessarily limited, since, even though the interviewers aimed to be as “unobtrusive as possible” by adopting the roles of “facilitators rather than questioners” (Colton & Vanstone, 1996, p.4), Cossins (2000) was unable to independently seek clarification in line with her theoretical perspective. The small sample (n=5), and lack of comparison sample, is also problematic, since the “persistent experiences of powerlessness” highlighted in Cossins’ (2000) re-analysis could be equally likely to occur among non-offending survivors, or non-offenders altogether, which limits understandings of the transition from victim to offender (Hartill, 2011). Since no studies have empirically tested Power/Powerlessness theory, it can, at this stage, only be considered a promising perspective. Whether it adequately reflects the lived experiences of the survivors and offenders in the present study will be discussed in the following Chapters that aim to determine how the lived experience of CSA differs between men who make the transition from survivor to offender and men who do not.

3.5. Conclusions

This Chapter evaluated three theoretical perspectives for their ability to explain the transition from victim to offender, with various limitations being identified in each theory. Based on the literature analysed in Chapters 1 and 2, it was argued that a useful explanation of the cycle of CSA should account for the different abuse characteristics within the experience of CSA that may be interpreted differently by boys and girls, such that boys are more likely than girls to make the transition from victim to offender. While SLT and the Pathways Model accounted for an experience of CSA in the development of child sex offending, it was not clear why sexually victimised boys, rather than girls, would be more likely to learn sexually deviant behaviours and attitudes (SLT), nor why boys more than girls would become “prematurely sexualised” such that they develop deviant sexual scripts that may result child sex offending and/or a preference for sexual behaviours with children (Pathways Model). By comparison, the Power/Powerlessness theory identified that an experience of CSA that heightens a boy’s experience of powerlessness may result in powerlessness and sexuality becoming the defining features of his masculinity. This accounts for the different experiences of boys and girls, as well as for the different interpretations and understandings boys and girls may have about their CSA experiences.

98 This Chapter also argued that useful theoretical perspectives to explain the transition from victim to offender should account for the gendered nature of the cycle of CSA. Neither SLT nor the Pathways Model were able to adequately account for the gendered nature of the cycle of CSA unlike the Power/Powerlessness theory which specifically attempted to explain the transition from victim to offender among men. The Power/Powerlessness theory did not rely on assumptions that the behaviour is based on deviant individualism, but rather that social constructions of masculine sexuality are affected by different kinds of sexually abusive experiences and by different sociocultural factors.

By identifying that the problem of CSA cannot be located within the individual or the behaviour itself, this Chapter argued that the transition from victim to offender must be theorised with reference to the social context in which child sex offending occurs, particularly because the cycle of CSA is only apparent among some men (but not women). Although SLT and the Pathways Model attempted to consider social context to varying degrees, both theories located the cause of child sex offending within the individual by relying on psychological deficits to explain the transition from victim to offender (e.g. cognitive, emotional, sexual, biological, intimacy, and personality deficits). As a result, both theories relied on limited conceptions of gender (e.g. sex role theory) and social context (e.g. the social environment of the victim immediately following the abuse and/or a cursory examination of the social in favour of the psychological). This meant that neither theory adequately explained why the factors they attributed to the transition from victim to offender were more likely to occur among sexually victimised boys rather than sexually victimised girls, such that boys, rather than girls, are more likely to become child sex offenders. The only theory that appeared to account for the fact that child sex offending is a response to specific cultural factors was the Power/Powerlessness theory.

I also argued that the relative strength of the causal pathway from victimisation to offending must be considered. A key flaw of SLT and the Pathways Model was a lack of clarity about why the mechanisms identified as “causes” of CSA were expressed as sexual behaviours, and with children rather than adults. While SLT identified a link between learning and subsequent child sex offending, it was not clear why sexually victimised boys would learn to model the behaviours of the abuser rather than the victim (since they held the position of victim during their learning experiences). The theory also overlooked the contexts in which these learned behaviours and attitudes become child sex offending behaviours (i.e. the situational factors that impact offending behaviours).

99 While the Pathways Model identified a link between experiencing CSA, developing distorted sexual scripts, and subsequent sex offending, it was not clear why deviant sexual scripts would manifest as sexual behaviour with children rather than adults in Pathway 2. In Pathway 5, it was unclear what mechanisms were involved in a sexually victimised boy developing a sexual preference for children. By comparison, the Power/Powerlessness theory posited that sexual conduct with a child may represent a site for the accomplishment of masculinity for those men with a strong attachment to the link between masculinity and sexuality and for whom other resources for accomplishing masculinity are limited or unavailable.

Despite the fact that the Power/Powerlessness theory has not yet been extensively tested in empirical research, it appears most useful for explaining the transition from victim to offender since it does not attribute the behaviour to individual deficits, and thus accounts for sociological factors in the development and expression of child sex offending, particularly gender; it considers differences within the experience of CSA between boys and girls and among boys; and it has the ability to explain the cycle of abuse. It, thus, provides a sound framework within which to analyse the interviews conducted with offending and non-offending survivors in this study. Nonetheless, since SLT and the Pathways Model may still hold value for explaining the transition from victim to offender due to the strengths of these theories identified in sections 3.2.1 and 3.3.6, all three theories will be considered when analysing the interview data.

100 Chapter 4: Research Design, Methodology and Implementation

The aim of this thesis is to identify the factors that affect the transition from victim to offender by comparing the lived experiences of adult male survivors of CSA who became child sex offenders in adulthood with adult male survivors of CSA who did not. During the project, 18 male CSA survivors shared their life stories with me, including eight child sex offenders, and ten non-offenders.

In this chapter, I outline the development of the project methodology, and how the methodology operated in practice, before more broadly reflecting on and evaluating the appropriateness and utility of qualitative methodologies with vulnerable participants.

4.1 Developing the Methodology and Selecting the Methods

Because the cycle of CSA has been approached by numerous disciplines, including psychology, medicine, law, sociology, and criminology, the methodological approaches used to examine the transition from survivor to offender have varied substantially. The majority of studies into the cycle of CSA have adopted quantitative methods, such as large-scale surveys or analyses of police and medical records (e.g. Bebbington et al., 2011; Dinwiddie & Bucholz., 1993; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Jespersen, Lalumiere & Seto, 2009; Pierce & Pierce, 1985; Rellini & Meston, 2011; Yancey & Hansen, 2010). However, the research questions for this thesis are:

1. What objective characteristics of boys’ experiences of CSA affect their likelihood of sexually abusing children in adulthood?

2. Are there differences in the interpretation of their CSA experiences that affect the transition of victim to offender?

My aim in developing the research methodology for this project was to understand how a boy interprets his CSA experiences, to document the meanings he attaches to those experiences and how those meanings affect his subsequent sexual behavior. These aims align with the criminological and sociological literature, and specifically with feminist methodologies, by situating lived experiences within victims’ and offenders’ social FRQWH[WV &ROH 3XWQDP /RUHQW]HQ 1LOVHQ 7UDHHQ 5DPD]DQR÷OX

101 Holland, 2011), so that a man’s experience of CSA cannot be understood in isolation from his day to day life, or in isolation from the structures of power that have shaped his life as a result of class, ethnicity, religion, sexuality and race (Connell, 1995; Connell & Messerschmidt, 2005). It is within these structures that a man constructs and makes sense of his world (Plummer, 1983).

Based on the above aims, it was clear that this project would require a qualitative approach, since qualitative methods, particularly in-depth interviews, are useful for investigating the meanings people attach to their experiences (Adams, 2010; Thomas et al., 2013). In relation to survivors of CSA specifically, in-depth interviews are particularly useful because they “present the ways different CSA victims understand themselves, interpret what happened to them, and create meanings” (Lorenzten et al., 2008, p.164).

My approach to conducting the interviews was informed by the sociological literature, and especially feminist methodologies that focus on “lived experience” and the “gendered nature of social life” (Landman, 2006, p.430; Hearn, 2013). I therefore used a life history method, since “life histories give rich documentation of personal experience, ideology and subjectivity” while also documenting “social structures, social movements and institutions” (Connell, 1995, p.89). Plummer (1983) outlines the ability of life history interviews to elicit rich descriptions about a person’s life, as well as how that person’s life story has been shaped by other people, the wider culture, their memory, and their self-creation, such that the “act of telling itself… turns inarticulated experience into something much more tangibly a sense of truth” (p.44-45). Thus, life history interviews are useful for capturing the “social, collective, cultural, historical moment” in which participants’ experiences are inextricably positioned (Plummer, 1983, p.7).

Since life history interviews enable “participants to define what is relevant to them,” and to move between elements of their personal world and of their broader social world when telling their story, this approach seemed particularly appropriate for the sensitive subject matter and vulnerable nature of the participants in this study (Krayer et al., 2015, p.137; Plummer, 1983, p.39).

I also anticipated that by allowing participants to be in control of the interview process I would minimise the potential risks of discomfort or distress. Participants would be empowered to delve into experiences they were comfortable discussing, but could discuss painful or emotional memories in a broader way without disrupting the continuity or value of their stories. For example, when Salter (2010, p.169) undertook life history

102 interviews with victims of CSA, he noted that “if a participant is unable to speak about a period or incident of abuse without experiencing distress, this event could instead be discussed in terms of its impact on the participant’s schooling at the time, their health and wellbeing, and so on.”

My decision to use the life history method also had a broader social purpose. The complexities of male victims’ experiences of CSA are rarely engaged with in a qualitative manner. Sexually victimised boys hold little social power, and studies consistently demonstrate the difficulties male survivors have with disclosing their abuse to authorities, and in accessing support services that specifically address the needs of male survivors (Cashmore & Shakel, 2014; Collin-Vezina, De La Sablonnière-Griffin, Palmer, & Milne, 2015; Easton, 2013; Easton, Saltzman & Willis, 2014; King & Woollett, 1997; O’Leary & Barber, 2008; Plummer, 2018). Society, and even male survivors themselves, seem to downplay, and even avoid, the problem of men’s sexual victimisation, since what it means to be a man is often enmeshed in culturally defined notions of conventional masculinity that characterise men as strong and emotionally tough, that is, the opposite of social perceptions of “victims” (Fondacaro, Holt & Powell, 1999; Kimmel & Plante, 2007; Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010; Romano & De Luca, 2001; Senn et al., 2007; Vogel et al., 2011).

This has meant that the experiences of sexually victimised men are often hidden, or “silenced”, by social structures that fail to recognise the prevalence of male victimisation, or how such an experience affects a male survivor throughout his life (McLaughlin & Tierney, 1993; Plummer, 2018). In selecting the life history approach my aim was to provide a means for these stories to be expressed, so that the meanings of sexual abuse for male survivors could be better understood. As Goodson (2001) suggests, life history research “offers a way of exploring the relationship between the culture, the social structure and the individual,” which allows for “private interpretations” to be contrasted with broader cultural expectations (p.132). The perceptions and interpretations provided through the stories men tell about their lives may be different from the “stories being told by official statistics” (Germeten, 2013, p.616), and this is important for an analysis of men’s lived experiences of CSA.

4.2 Developing the Project Design

The safety and confidentiality of participants were prominent concerns throughout the development and implementation of this project. Victims of CSA often suffer long-term

103 effects of the abuse, including psychological trauma (Putnam, 2003; Richards, 2011; Whitaker, 2008; Widom & Maxfield, 1996). Further, many victims of CSA do not disclose their abuse, or delay disclosure well into adulthood (Cossins, 2010; Schaeffer, Leventhal, & Gottsegen-Asnes, 2011), which demonstrates the difficulties victims face when talking about their abuse histories (Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; Maikovich-Fong & Jafee, 2010; Ullman & Filipas, 2005).

The stigma attached to child sexual offenders means that they are not often involved in qualitative research that is designed to listen to their stories of abuse and offending, and they face significant personal risks (e.g. breakdown of personal relationships, criticism from the broader community) if their privacy and confidentiality are not maintained (Copes et al., 2012; Jewkes et al., 2012; Ricciardelli & Moir, 2013; Sapp & Vaughn, 1990; Young, 1997).

It was therefore crucial that all participants felt comfortable and safe participating in the research, that confidentiality was respected, and that they felt informed, valued and in control of their stories.

4.2.1 Recruitment Strategies To ensure that participants had access to support to deal with their abuse and/or offending histories, the recruitment strategy for both groups of male CSA survivors involved contacting community based organisations that provided care and support for adult survivors and offenders of CSA, including: x Survivors and Mates Support Network (SAMSN), a nation-wide support network for male survivors of CSA; x Bravehearts, a Brisbane-based support and advocacy centre for survivors of CSA; x Adults Surviving Child Sexual Abuse (ASCA), a nation-wide organisation providing support, advocacy and referrals for survivors of all types of child abuse; x The Pastoral Counselling Institute, a NSW community-based treatment provider for sex offenders; x The Office of the Children’s Guardian, a nation-wide organisation involving psychologists trained in treating child sex offenders; x Owenia House, a South Australian organisation specialising in child sex offender treatment; and

104 x Independent psychologists who specialise in the treatment of child sex offenders, located throughout Australia, and identified through internet searches and referrals from other psychologists in the field.

I drafted a recruitment advertisement that outlined the study and asked these individuals and organisations to distribute it in their newsletters, at meetings or functions, or directly to clients they believed might be interested in the study (Appendices D & E). In accordance with HREC approval (Appendix A), and to protect my safety, participants initially contacted my primary supervisor, who then forwarded expressions of interest to me.

In relation to non-offending participants, recruitment was limited to those who met the following inclusion criteria: (i) 18 years of age or older; (ii) had a self-reported experience of sexual abuse as a child, where a. Child sexual abuse encompasses all contact and non-contact sexual behaviours between a child and a person at least 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse b. ‘Child’ is defined as person under the age of 16 in accordance with NSW law; (iii) had adequate English to provide written informed consent and to participate in the interview; a. were not suffering from an untreated mental health issue; and b. were available for an in-person, telephone or Skype interview.

In relation to offending participants, recruitment was limited to those who met the above criteria in addition to: (iv) having had at least one conviction for a child sex offence in adolescence or adulthood.

Although not a specific selection criterion, only those with adequate social supports in place were included to address the potential risk of distress inherent in discussing the sensitive topic of CSA. Although participants were recruited through treatment providers, sufficient social support, and treatment of mental health issues, were confirmed using a pre-interview questionnaire that asked participants to identify sources of support in their lives, and to confirm treatment for any mental health issues (Appendix F). Participants received this, in addition to the Participant Information Statement and Consent Forms

105 (Appendices G & H), after they expressed interest in the study by responding to the recruitment advertisement.

While I held concerns about the vulnerable status of participants as either victims, offenders or both, I followed Salter’s (2010, p.173) approach of basing the project on a commitment to autonomy, in “that adults volunteering for a conversational interview could make their own judgements about what was good for them.” Numerous studies have found that, despite sensitive and emotional issues being brought up during an interview, participants are often appreciative of the opportunity to tell their story to an interested listener (Adams, 2010; Carlick & Biley, 2004; Corbin & Morse, 2003; East et al., 2010).

They often have positive perceptions of the interview process despite experiences of discomfort. Others have noted that when such an interview is conducted in a safe and respectful environment, participants can gain closure and feel a sense of control over the event or situation (Elmir et al., 2011; Lowes & Gill, 2006). This led Becker-Blease and Freyd (2006) to argue that researchers’ attempts to protect survivors of child abuse from harm due to the belief that talking about their experiences may be harmful or distressing “overemphasize survivors’ vulnerability and ignore the costs of avoiding asking about abuse. In fact, these beliefs may reinforce societal avoidance of abuse and ultimately harm abuse survivors” (Becker-Blease and Freyd, 2006, p.218).

4.2.2 Screening and referrals Potential participants were sent both the Consent forms and Pre-Interview Questionnaire, and asked to complete and return them to me before an interview could be scheduled. In conjunction with my supervisors, their suitability for the project was assessed, and if appropriate the participant was contacted to arrange an interview. Suitability was determined by assessing men’s responses to the questions related to mental health and support on the questionnaire, since, as Scott (1998) found in her study of adults with histories of ritualistic abuse, it was crucial to select interviewees who had thoroughly considered their decision to participate and who demonstrated adequate emotional stability and social support. If the participant was not deemed appropriate for the research due to a lack of support, or untreated mental health issues, they were thanked for their time, but referred to a local mental health agency. This occurred in only one case, where sufficient social support could not be adequately established.

106 4.2.3 Interview Structure When developing the interview structure and process, the first step was my own preparation, since “interview preparation…. can help make or break the process and can either alleviate or exacerbate the problematic circumstances that could potentially occur once the research is implemented” (Turner, 2010, p.757; Hearn, 2013). I aimed to be as informed as possible about the interview process and the subject matter, so that I was capable of “hearing and appreciating the implications of the comments and statements made” by participants (Minichiello, Aroni & Hays, 2008, p.87). I developed a protocol for conducting the interviews that centred upon preparing the participant for, opening, maintaining, and closing, the interview. This protocol was piloted in practice-interviews with the founders of SAMSN, who were themselves survivors of CSA.

4.2.3.1 Preparing the Participant for the Interview As per ethics approval, preparing the participants involved providing written Participant Information Statements (Appendices G & H) that outlined the ways their anonymity would be protected (pseudonyms and allowing participants editorial control of transcripts); negotiating a time and location for the interview; fostering a safe context by asking participants if they would like to bring a support person with them; and discussing what we could do if the participant became upset or distressed during the interview, including taking breaks, concluding the interview and/or referral to support services.

4.2.3.2 Opening the interview Because participants should be eased into the interview and made to feel as comfortable as possible, broad or general questions that “allow the informant to consider issues at a non-personal level” were developed to begin the interview, with more specific or personal questioning occurring only once a rapport had been established (Minichiello, Aroni & Hays, 2008, p..95). The interviews were designed to focus on: x participants’ lived experiences of CSA, including abuse-specific characteristics (see Chapter 2); x participants’ life histories, including their social contexts, background factors, relationships, and conceptions of sexuality and masculinity; and x for offending participants’ only, perpetration of CSA in adolescence or adulthood, including the circumstances surrounding their offence(s), and abuse-specific factors (e.g. victim choice).

While an interview schedule was developed (Appendix I) with an outline of chronological life events from childhood to adulthood, it was not expected that the interview would 107 proceed in a linear fashion. Using the schedule for prompts rather than as an exhaustive list of questions allowed participants to lead the interviews, provided avenues for further questions, brought to light areas I had not previously considered, and identified the areas that were most important to them (Germeten, 2013; Lorentzen, Nilsen & Traeen, 2008; Minichiello, Aroni & Hays, 2008; Nagy Hesse-Biber & Leavy, 2006). For example, one participant commented on how the criminal justice system’s approach to addressing sexual offending contrasted starkly with the approach taken by treatment providers. As discussed further below (section 4.4.3), Robert was encouraged to deny his offences by his solicitor, as well as by fellow inmates while he was in prison, but was then encouraged to take responsibility for his offences during treatment. This created a confusing framework within which Robert came to understand his offending, and he believed that this delayed his ability to appropriately address his offending behaviour.

The contrast between criminal justice and treatment settings, and the benefits and limitations of each, were also mentioned by other participants (such as Butch). The impact of these institutions on offending participants’ rehabilitation warranted further exploration in the interviews and emphasised the importance of how participants came to understand and communicate their experiences of abuse. This example highlights how relying too heavily on an interview guide may have stifled recursively defined questioning, and may “not [have] produce[d] rich and detailed data about meaning, perception or function,” which would have diminished the aim of this qualitative analysis (Minichiello, Aroni & Hays, 2008, p.89).

The structure of the guide was developed with reference to the literature on life history interviews about sensitive topics. For example, Davidson (2006) adopted an “interview guide” approach in interviews with 91 child sexual offenders so that:

broad issues and themes were identified and ordered at the outset of the interview, affording some structure. However, the interviews were conducted in a flexible manner allowing freedom of movement within the interview guide (p.162).

Davidson (2006, p.163) noted that this semi-structured approach “proved extremely successful as full accounts – including attitudes, feelings and beliefs were given … which could not have been gained so successfully via a more structured approach.” Similarly, the research questions in my interview guide were broad, open-ended, and aimed at

108 eliciting the meanings participants’ attached to their experiences, not just facts (Elmir et al., 2011; Minichiello, Aroni & Hays, 2008; Nagy Hesse-Biber & Leavy, 2006).

Since rapport was vital to ensure that participants felt safe, and that their contributions were valued, I drew on the practical skills identified by Nagy Hesse-Biber and Leavy (2006, p.128) as a means of fostering an appropriate environment for participants:

Researchers need to take the role of active listener ... Showing genuine interest is critical to the establishment of rapport. Researchers are not there to judge their respondents, but rather to help them flesh out what they see as the critical aspects of the story they are sharing. Eye contact and appropriate gesturing (such as nodding) are important to the building of rapport and foster productive interviews.

With these techniques in mind, I aimed to develop “intimate familiarity” with participants’ lives to avoid what Plummer (1983, p.37) identifies as “the risk of getting it wrong,” that is, of “speculating, abstracting and theorizing at too great a remove … and worst of all, of substituting the researcher’s own view for that of the participant.” As will be discussed below, the interview process is not a detached or objective one (Adams, 2010), so I viewed the interview process as a partnership between the participant and myself that was based on respect, trust, and collaboration in the production of knowledge rather than a search for “objective facts”. As a result, I focused on practicing tolerance, being a good listener, and adopting a non-judgmental approach (Davidson, 2006).

4.2.3.3 Closing the interview In the interests of participant well-being, closing the interview was designed to involve providing an opportunity for participants to ask questions, make any final statements, and reflect on their experience of participating in the interview (Minichiello et al., 2008). It also involved arranging for transcripts to be sent to participants for review, reminding participants that reviewing what was said may be difficult or upsetting, reinforcing the opportunity for them to seek assistance if required, and ensuring that participants felt valued for their contribution to the research (Salter, 2010).

4.3 Implementing the Project Methodology

The following sections describe how the project methodology worked in practice, including practical difficulties and how these were addressed.

109 4.3.1 Demographic information about participants The age range of the 10 non-offenders was 38 years to 67 years (Mean=54 years). Six identified as Caucasian Australian, one as Indigenous Australian, two as British and one as Dutch-Australian. Five participants were married, four unmarried, and one was in a de facto relationship while six participants had children. Three participants identified as non-religious, and most identified as Christian (n=7), although only two participants remained actively involved in the church. Based on education and occupation, most participants were classified as middle class (n=9) with one from a lower socioeconomic background.

The age range of the 8 offenders was 31 years to 70 years (M=59.6). Five identified as Caucasian Australian, one as British, one as American and one as South African. Four participants were separated, one was divorced, one married and two were unmarried. Most participants had children (n=6). All participants identified as Christian, though none actively practised their religion. Based on education and occupation, most participants were middle class (n=6) with two from a lower socioeconomic background.

4.3.2 Ethics Approval Ethics Approval for Non-Offending Participants. An application to recruit adult male survivors of CSA was submitted to the Human Research Ethics Committee (HREC) at the University of New South Wales. Approval was granted in November, 2014 (Approval Number HC14212), after additional information and several changes were requested. The Committee’s concerns about the project centred upon my safety, and participants’ privacy and confidentiality. The HREC requested that I provide a safety protocol (Appendices B & C) to ensure my self-care during the interviewing phase of the project. Numerous researchers document the need for self-care when undertaking interviews about sensitive topics due to the psychological toll it can have on the researcher. In- depth interviews have been described as emotionally demanding, and issues of “vicarious traumatization” and researcher “burnout” are reported to be relatively common experiences (Elmir et al., 2011, p.15; Lowes & Gill, 2006, p. 593; Germeten, 2013). Accordingly, the safety protocol confirmed that I would take steps to ensure self-care during interviews and afterwards, including discussing interviews with my supervisors before and after they occurred, allowing sufficient time between interviews to reflect upon what had occurred, and contacting UNSW’s counselling services for debriefing during the interview process.

110 Ethics Approvals for Offending Participants. Ethics applications to recruit victimised child sex offenders were submitted to the Corrective Services Ethics Committees in NSW (April 2015), Victoria (June 2016) and South Australia (October 2016). Since incarcerated participants presented unique challenges in terms of privacy, confidentiality, and safety (of both participant and researcher) these applications were ultimately unsuccessful.

Instead, offending participants were recruited through community-based treatment providers (psychologists and sex offender treatment programs) in NSW and Western Australia (WA). No additional ethical approval was required for accessing these participants, although modifications to the originally approved UNSW HREC application were submitted to account for factors such as the potentially different populations of offenders to be accessed in WA, and for my safety when conducting interviews in WA. The safety protocol was updated to confirm that I would notify my supervisors of the times and locations of interviews in WA, arrange a “safety person” to be available should any adverse situations arise during the interviews, and to debrief my supervisors after the interviews.

The HREC also requested that additional information be provided to participants about the legal requirement in NSW to disclose information related to any criminal offences revealed during the study. While a standard statement was included in all information materials for participants (“Any information… that can be identified with you will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission, except as required by law”) (Appendices L & M), all participants were told that I would have to report any crimes they discussed for which they had not been convicted.

I also included this information in a verbal statement at the outset of the interview, and ensured that any interview questions related to offending behaviours were phrased in such a way that participants understood that the question only related to offences for which they had been convicted.

4.3.3 The Recruitment Phase of the Project In early 2015 I emailed men’s organisations to ask for assistance with recruitment. SAMSN showed great interest in the study, and was an ideal organisation for recruitment since they work exclusively with adult male survivors of CSA. An additional benefit of recruiting participants through this organisation was that sexually victimised men who had become offenders were not able to access treatment with SAMSN. This ensured

111 that participants in the non-offending sample had not become offenders. After consulting with the founders of SAMSN, a modification to the ethics approval was submitted to the UNSW HREC to vary the Recruitment materials so that they would be better suited to potential participants (Appendices J & K).

Changes involved excluding those with untreated mental health issues, rather than those with mental health issues, and clearer advice on the role of my primary supervisor in the recruitment process. The founders of SAMSN advised that I would be unlikely to find participants who did not have some form of mental health issue, and, by recruiting through organisations that provided support for survivors of abuse, participants’ likelihood of experiencing undue stress or harm was limited. While UNSW’s HREC required that my supervisor be the first point of contact for the study, the founders of SAMSN suggested that this may be uncomfortable for participants. Revised recruitment materials clarified that expressions of interest sent to my supervisor would be directly forwarded to me, and that I would then be the point of contact.

Recruitment of offending participants posed significantly more challenges for the implementation of this project. After unsuccessful attempts to access offenders through Corrective Services, the recruitment process for offending participants began in late 2016 through psychologists affiliated with the Office of the Children’s Guardian and the Pastoral Counselling Institute. Since these community-based treatment providers had only a limited number of clients who met the recruitment criteria (victims who became offenders), psychologists throughout Australia were contacted for assistance. While many expressed support for the project, none could refer clients who met the selection criteria, though several provided valuable referrals to other psychologists in the field. After following up all referrals, in mid-2017 the recruitment process was facilitated by a psychologist specialising in child sex offender treatment based in Western Australia.

After the recruitment advertisements were distributed by these organisations and individuals, men contacted me by email. All participants had various levels of support in their lives, from professional support (e.g. SAMSN, psychologists) to spouses, friends, and extended family. Once I received a completed Consent form and a Pre-Interview Questionnaire from each participant, I consulted with my supervisors to agree on each participant’s suitability for the project.

I contacted participants by email or phone, depending on their preference, to discuss the details of the study, and invited participants to ask questions. Mostly, they were

112 interested in how their privacy would be maintained, whether I had a safety protocol in place to protect myself, and why I had chosen this topic to research. My discussions with each participant prior to the interview varied, but generally expanded upon the information that participants received in the Participant Information form. Discussions also centred on the importance of support for participants, and although none chose to bring a support person with them to the interview, many mentioned appreciating the option.

4.3.4 The Interview The interview process involved 18 interviews, ranging from 1 hour to 3 hours in duration. While my aim was to explore whether certain CSA experiences increase a man’s likelihood of perpetrating CSA in adulthood, my role as an interviewer was not solely to achieve this aim. In order to foster a safe and comfortable environment, I organised private rooms in locations that were convenient for participants, and provided light refreshments as a way of making the interview feel more like a conversation. While most participants chose to come to UNSW for the interview, one Sydney-based interview and all interstate interviews were conducted in other locations chosen by participants. Several participants commented after the interview that this approach had helped them to feel at ease, which facilitated the interview:

I did appreciate the environment you prepared and felt well supported by your preparation and obvious attention to details that assisted me to get to and from the interview (Larry, non-offender).

To ease participants into the interview, all interviews began with the broad question “could you tell me a little bit about what your childhood was like?” Interviews proceeded from there, but rarely in a linear fashion. The open nature of life history interviewing means that participants’ stories of abuse are contextualised in the broader narratives of their lives from childhood to adulthood.

Most participants were comfortable with this approach, and fluently discussed their life histories, experiences, challenges, emotions and beliefs. My contributions largely focused on using questions to transition participants into different life periods or to seek clarification or elaboration. I often engaged in reflective listening techniques when summarising participants’ complex emotions to ensure that I had understood. For a minority of participants who were less comfortable in the interview setting, I adapted my

113 interview style by adhering more closely to the interview guide. This fostered a more structured discussion until participants became comfortable leading the interview.

Since all participants had either sought or were currently in treatment, most were relatively comfortable discussing their experiences of abuse and offending. However, these topics were rarely discussed until at least halfway through the interview when rapport had been established. For participants who were less forthcoming about the details of their abuse, I maintained the continuity of their accounts by focusing my questions on the broader context of the abuse, such as what their home-life, school-life, and peer and other relationships were like.

Because of the open nature of the interview, in all cases participants shared details of their abusive or offending experiences, as well as other relevant information, at various times throughout the interview rather than all at once, so by the end of each interview all participants had provided a comprehensive picture of their lives, experiences of abuse and/or offending, and the emotions, beliefs and understandings that were attached to these experiences.

During discussions of abuse it was often difficult to remain “objective” or “neutral”. I found that expressions of compassion and understanding proved to be a positive approach since it allowed participants to continue the interview if they became upset. Most participants became emotional to varying degrees during the interviews, and offering them a break, or even just a cup of tea validated their emotional responses. Many participants commented after the interview that they had appreciated this supportive approach:

I felt very much at ease and able to talk about what can be very difficult subjects/issues for me. There was literally only a couple of isolated moments where I had to compose myself. (Benjamin, non-offender)

Thank you for your compassionate attention and focus on my disjointed recollection of the past. (Larry, non-offender)

I appreciated your gentle, intelligent manner. (Sabai, non-offender)

When offenders discussed their experiences of victimising others, I ensured that I managed any emotional reactions (such as shock or apprehension) so that I could delve

114 into, and at times gently challenge, participants’ accounts:

You made me feel very relaxed and you are very approachable. It made it easy for me to talk to you. (John, offender)

Interviews were brought to a close once participants indicated that they had shared everything they felt was important about their experiences. A final interview question asking whether they had anything further to add sometimes prompted additional conversation. Participants were thanked for their time, and for the openness and honesty with which they shared their accounts to ensure that they felt valued for their contributions. To bring participants’ focus from recollections of the past to the present, administrative matters were briefly discussed including what pseudonym participants would like, where the transcript should be sent, when they could expect feedback from me, and where they could receive support if they wanted to discuss any adverse emotional reactions to having participated in the interview (e.g. Lifeline, Beyond Blue, ASCA helpline).

4.3.5 Transcription Transcription involved listening to the recorded interview and typing the conversation out verbatim. This was done after each interview to ensure that the information was fresh in my mind, which allowed for notes to be made about non-verbal responses, and to reconsider interview questions, procedures and skills based on participants’ responses. All interviews were de-identified at the outset of transcription; during the transcription process by removing any identifying information (e.g. by using fictional names for people and places) (Germeten, 2013; Salter, 2010). The interviews were transcribed in the following way:

x My questions or comments were bolded; x Emphases in participants’ responses were italicised; x Significant silences or pauses within participants’ responses were marked with an ellipsis; x Significant non-verbal communications were included where appropriate in parentheses.

After the interview, many participants sent me emails to share things that they had forgotten, that they felt they had not adequately explained during the interview, or that

115 they thought were important after having had time to reflect after the interview. These additional comments were added to participants’ transcripts.

4.3.6 Participants’ Review of Transcripts After transcription, participants were provided with two copies of the transcript so that they could edit one copy and return it to me, and keep one copy for their reference. The transcripts that were sent to participants were accompanied by a letter (Appendix N) inviting them to amend the material at their own discretion, and explaining that they were free to withdraw from the study during this time.

The letter also explained that once they returned their edited transcript to me I would begin analysis, at which point it would no longer be possible to withdraw their contributions from the project. Participants were further advised that, while they were free to take as long as needed to review the transcripts, if I had not received any response from them within one month, I would proceed to analysis of their interview in its original form. This clause was included based on the experience of Salter (2010) who encountered lengthy delays in gaining permission for analysis. Only one (non-offending) participant in my study failed to return his transcript, and after several attempts to contact him he was informed by email that his transcript would be used in its original form, as outlined during the interview, and on the cover letter sent to participants along with their transcripts (Appendix N).

Because Salter (2010, p.195) discovered that some participants found reviewing the transcripts “unexpectedly upsetting and sometimes shocking”, the letter to participants also informed them that reviewing the transcripts may be an emotional or upsetting experience, and that they may wish to have a support person present with them during this time. In line with Salter’s (2010) finding, many participants found seeing their life stories documented in print confronting and emotional:

I cried when I read the transcript of our talk. (Sabai, non-offender)

I've tried a few times to go through the transcript … But each time I've opened the document, I just haven't been able to read much of it … it's really hard – much harder than the interview – I don't know why. (Benjamin, non-offender)

It has taken a little time for me to get the courage to read this. And I only got part of the way through. Maybe the rest a bit later. (Ruben, non-offender)

116 No participants withdrew from the project during this process, and none made significant amendments to the content of their transcripts. Amendments were mostly related to spelling or misheard information which increased the accuracy and value of the interview data.

4.3.7 Data Analysis The analysis involved both an inductive and deductive approach that occurred in two phases: thematic analysis followed by iterative categorisation. Because men’s experiences of CSA, and the transition from victim to offender, are largely unexplored topics, thematic analysis was considered to be most appropriate because it “has the flexibility to explore rich and detailed data,” and the analytic focus is on participants’ perceptions, understandings, and experiences, which was vital for this study (Whittle, Hamilton-Giachritsis, & Beech, 2015, p.61; Katz & Barnetz, 2015).

To organise the large quantity of data resulting from the life history interviews, certain categories for analysis were established based on research into the links between victimisation and offending, as well as various theoretical frameworks (SLT, Pathways model, Power-Powerlessness Theory). This comprised the deductive component of the analysis. However, developing too comprehensive a categorisation structure would have compromised the exploratory nature of the study. Accordingly, only broad categories were defined to organise the data before a “coding” process was undertaken, by importing participants’ transcripts to the qualitative data analysis software, NVivo (e.g. Basit, 2003; Jones, 2007; Leech & Onwuegbuzie, 2011; Welsh, 2002). These categories were modified and amended throughout the analysis process based on the data so that categories were not simply imposed on the data without letting participants’ stories speak for themselves. This followed Glaser and Laudel’s (2013) “qualitative content analysis” approach when a project involves pre-existing theoretical foundations:

The core idea of our approach to qualitative content analysis is to work with a system of categories that is derived from theoretical consideration but can be changed and extended during the whole process of data analysis in a way that enables the preservation of theoretical considerations without forcing them onto the data (Glaser & Laudel, 2013, p.23).

Coding. Since Strauss and Corbin (1998, p.57) suggest that “detailed line-by-line analysis [is] necessary at the beginning of a study,” I read through the data, line by line,

117 assigning codes to segments of text with my broad categories in mind, but also, as Glaser and Laudel (2013) suggest, based on what the data suggests. Initial themes derived from the literature included: x Characteristics of Abuse (e.g. severity, duration, grooming); x Characteristics of Offending (e.g. victim choice, act perpetrated); x Relationships (e.g. family, peers, romantic partners); x Sexuality (e.g. sexual attitudes, behaviours, experiences, partners); x Masculinity (e.g. conceptions of ‘manhood’, behaviours used to signify manhood); and x Self-Identity (e.g. personal views; character, patterns of behaviour, successes, failures, self-esteem).

Sections of participants’ narratives that referred to any of these categories directly or indirectly were coded into these broad themes. Sections that did not fit these categories were considered and reconsidered until subcategories were created, or until new categories developed. For example, most participants’ accounts referred to experiences of shame, guilt, and self-blame. This was coded as a “psychological and emotional” theme, but was subsequently included as a subtheme of “Characteristics of Abuse” since these outcomes invariably related to participants’ experiences of CSA. By comparison, most participants discussed various hardships and negative experiences that occurred throughout their lives (e.g. divorce; loss or death of loved ones; health issues; unemployment). Since these were experienced in various contexts, “adverse events” became a new theme rather than a subtheme.

By conducting this phase of analysis even before all the data was gathered, an iterative process occurred wherein preliminary analyses impacted future data collection, and these in turn refined subsequent analysis such that data collection and analysis informed each other (Huberman & Miles, 1983; Nagy Hess-Biber & Leavy, 2006). Once all the data had been coded, a process of further thematic analysis occurred when each theme was developed into sub-themes. For example, the “Relationships” theme was further refined into subthemes such as “peers”, “parents”, “romantic partners” and so on. This initial phase of “data reduction,” which “sharpens, sorts, focuses, throws away, organizes and clarifies data” (Huberman & Miles, 1983, p.331) allowed for further analysis to occur consistently.

Identification of patterns and revision of themes. To identify patterns within each subtheme, the data were analyzed for common or significant phrases, repetition of concepts,

118 and inconsistencies between narratives. As more data were added, additional patterns emerged such that themes and sub-themes were revised. For example, within the “grooming” sub-theme, four key patterns emerged: (a) references to acts/behaviors experienced, coded as “characteristics”; (b) references to acts/behaviors directed toward survivors’ families or environments, coded as “environmental grooming”; (c) references to changes in acts after abuse onset, coded as “stages”; and (d) references to participants’ feelings about acts/behaviors experienced, coded as “impacts.” When inconsistencies in the data were considered, it became evident that grooming experiences were noticeably different for victims of intra-familial and extra-familial abuse, resulting in further refinements.

Relationships among themes and subthemes. When the themes and sub-themes were considered more broadly, relationships between some themes became evident. For example, many of the factors described in “Self-Identity” were related to “Relationships.” Participants’ frequent accounts of “feeling different” and of isolation were necessarily related to their relationships with others, particularly peers. Issues with trust and intimacy were inherently linked to participants’ relationships with romantic partners. Accordingly, patterns emerged wherein various sub-themes could be relevant to several themes, and were thus included across multiple categorisation structures for completeness of the analysis.

Iterative Categorisation. During the first phase of analysis it was essential that I continually questioned my assumptions, and considered as many plausible explanations as possible, such that my predefined categories, or indeed the categories I developed after data collection, did “not operate as a straightjacket” that suppressed or distorted information (Glaser & Laudel, 2013, p.27). To address these factors, the second stage of analysis involved Iterative Categorization (IC; Neale, 2016), which is a process designed to support thematic analysis by providing a structured way to reduce and interpret data after the coding process (Neale, 2016). This phase was undertaken once no new themes emerged from the data (Strauss & Corbin, 1998), and facilitated the process of identifying patterns within and across participants’ narratives.

Although IC has been largely applied to addiction research, its rigorous, transparent, and repeatable nature was particularly useful for increasing the validity of the present study where I conducted the analysis alone (Neale, 2016). IC was used to examine the relative strength of associations and reliability of categories. Coded data in each subtheme were removed from NVivo and placed into a Word document. Each segment of coded data

119 was summarised into the key ideas that captured the nature of participants’ accounts. By simplifying the data in this way, it was possible to systematically and comprehensively compare discrete ideas across and within subthemes, thereby ensuring that all commonalities and inconsistencies were accounted for. The simplified data were then compared with existing literature for consistencies and contradictions to further confirm the validity of the final categorisation structure. Inconsistent or anomalous data meant that I had to go back to participants’ complete narratives, and consider the significance of these conflicting findings in the contexts of their lives. This was an iterative process involving “repeated immersion in the text to confirm that the emergent themes and interpretations are supported by the data” (Dorahy & Clearwater, 2012, p.160). The analysis, therefore, began to move from “description to conceptualisation” (Salter, 2010, p.201), where I began the process of

drawing meaning from displayed reduced data-noting regularities, patterns, explanations, possible configurations, causal flows, propositions. These conclusions are also verified, tested for their plausibility, robustness, sturdiness, and validity (Miles & Huberman, 1984, p.24).

During this stage of analysis, I concentrated on documenting the emergent themes, and the way these interacted, to create a cohesive narrative. By writing up my analyses section by section, I could ensure a logical flow that thoroughly explained the relationships between themes, to produce a compelling and theoretically driven thesis. This stage of analysis also involved reflection on my role in the interview process, which will be discussed further below. My values, beliefs and preconceptions influenced my interview questions, prompts and responses, both verbal and non-verbal, which would inevitably affect the data gathered (Colton & Vanstone, 1996; Hsiung, 2008; Thogersen, 2005). This effect had to be considered throughout the analysis phase to ensure that my conclusions (a) illuminated the transition from victim to offender “as lived experience”; (b) were “based on thick descriptions” that contextualised survivors’ lived experiences; (c) were not superficial or related to my prior conceptions; and (d) “engulf[ed] what is known about the topic,” as per my theoretical foundations and literature review (Miles & Huberman, 2002, p.362).

4.4 Evaluating the Methodology

This project gathered the stories of 18 survivors of CSA, eight of whom became child sex offenders in adulthood, and produced 40.5 hours of interview material for analysis.

120 This section reflects upon my role as interviewer and evaluates the research methodology based on participants’ experiences.

4.4.1 Reflecting on qualitative research: My role as interviewer Qualitative research aims to “understand the world from the subjects’ points of view and to unfold the meaning of their lived world” (Kvale, 2006, p.481). It has been argued that “truth” can be “captured” “through the careful transcription and analysis of field materials,” where the “author becomes the mirror to the world under analysis” (Denzin, 1994, p.296). According to this view, “truth or validity” is the result of research that places a neutral and objective researcher into a “value-free research process” (Yow, 1997, p.71; Thogersen, 2005; Davies & Dodd, 2002).

However, this project was underpinned by sociological and feminist methodologies which propose that objectivity in qualitative research is neither possible, nor desired (Ahmed, 2014; Colton & Vanstone, 1996; Krieger, 1985; Plummer, 1983; Thomsen, 2012; Underwood et al., 2010). The personal attributes, knowledge, life experiences and world- views of the interviewer “will inevitably influence the interaction in the interview setting” (Minichiello, Aroni & Hayes, 2008, p.78). Nevertheless, there is considerable debate about “the amount and type of researcher influence that is acceptable, and whether and how it needs to be controlled and accounted for” (Ortlipp, 2008, p.698; Doucet & Mauthner, 2005).

One way qualitative researchers have approached researcher subjectivity is by acknowledging preconceptions and biases and “bracketing” them, or putting them “to one side,” to allow a “richer understanding of experience uncontaminated by preconceptions” (Lowes & Prowse, 2001, p.473). However, whether “bracketing” is truly possible has been questioned (Krieger, 1985; Lowes & Prowse, 2001). Krieger (1985, p.309) argues that “we are not, in fact, ever capable of achieving the analytic distance we have long been schooled to seek.” Some have gone further to suggest that researcher subjectivity may enrich research by blurring the line between researcher and participant and facilitating rapport, whereas distance between the researcher and researched can be a barrier (Ahmed, 2014; Davies & Dodd, 2002; Yost & Chmielewski, 2012). For example, in her interviews with adolescent female refugees, Mossleson (2010, p.408) found that including her “positionality, personal artifacts, emotional responses … could enhance the research process,” since “the interactions between the interviewer and the interviewee played an important role in the knowledge being constructed” (p.484).

121 Many researchers suggest that the management of subjectivity in qualitative research involves acknowledging it, and accounting for its relative impact on the research process (Buckner, 2006; Cutcliffe, 2003; Lowes & Prowse, 2001; Harrison, MacGibbon & Morton, 2001; Underwood et al. 2010). This is often undertaken through reflexive practice, which is a way of “accounting for oneself in the research” by “conceptualising the researcher as an active participant in knowledge reproduction rather than as a neutral bystander” (Cutcliffe, 2003, p.137; Hsiung, 2008, p.212; Buckner, 2006). This process is considered to be imperative in all phases of the research process and is a key method of demonstrating the credibility of qualitative research, because the “opportunity to assess the degree of consistency between the researcher’ beliefs and the research practices used makes it possible to evaluate the quality of research” (Burns, 2006; Couture et al., 2012; Cresswell & Miller, 2000; Snape & Spencer, 2003, p.19). Harrison, MacGibbon and Morton (2001, p.325) emphasise that it is important to:

make it clear how the researcher’s own experiences, values, and positions of privilege in various hierarchies have influenced their research interests, the way they choose to do their research, and the ways they choose to represent their research findings.

Kvale (1992, p.21) suggests that “when one gives up the idea of a detached non- intervening researcher … the role of the researcher takes on a methodological dimension, since who the researcher is as a human being then greatly affects the outcome of the research” (Kvale, 1992, p.21). Throughout the development and implementation of the project, therefore, I considered my own subjectivity, including my social position relative to my participants, and the potential power imbalances inherent in those positions; the “multiple identities” I held based on my social positions (Alby & Fatigante, 2014); and the ways these may have impacted the interviews, analysis, interpretation, and the writing of my thesis.

Social Position. Acknowledging my social position involved consideration of broad “constructs based on gender, class, age, race, ethnicity, and ideology, which influence how the interviewer relates to the narrator” (Yow, 1997, p.72). As a young, middle-class, Caucasian woman interviewing adult male CSA survivors and child sex offenders, I anticipated that my social position relative to the participants’ would affect my perspective, and the ways I interpreted participants’ accounts. Yow (1997) notes that age can affect the types of information that a researcher deems to be important. In a

122 study of the effect of age on the interaction between the interviewer and participant, Underwood et al. (2012) concluded that:

whether researcher and participant are of similar age or separated by several generations, all those involved in the research process carry histories and understandings shaped by their previous life experiences, and this, too, must be accepted and dealt with in the research methodology developed (p.1593).

The influence of gender, particularly when a woman interviews a man, has received much attention in the literature as being highly influential on the interaction between interviewer and participant (Pini & Pease, 2013). For example, Yow (1997, p.74) suggests that “a woman who is interviewing may express empathy only to find it is received by the male narrator as condescension.” Similarly, Vahasantanen and Saarinen (2012, p.495) suggest that when women interview men, men often “try to exert compensatory control over the interview situation through sexualizing, minimizing, and testing.” Pini (2005) documented several of these processes as a young female doctoral student who interviewed male industry leaders. During her interviews, she found that men emphasised “their heterosexuality, presenting themselves as powerful and busy, and positioning themselves as having expert and superior knowledge” (p.201).

Failing to acknowledge these differences in our social contexts may have had unintended consequences for the interview process, since “the ways in which [participants] perceive the researcher’s identities will shape the interview experience” (Couture et al., 2012, p.93). For example, because of my age and gender, male CSA survivors and offenders may not necessarily have been comfortable discussing their abuse histories and offences with me, and my ability to understand their experiences may also have been affected by my social position relative to theirs.

However, I found that while my social position involved several points of difference from my participants, such differences served to create a context of mutual respect by balancing perceived power differentials and allowing these men to share deeply personal experiences. While I held a privileged status as the researcher, my relative lack of life experience (based on my age) and subordinate social status (based on my gender) enabled a shift of power to the participant. In fact, the differences between the participants and myself appeared to be valuable in the interview process because:

when researchers do not share similar experiences with interviewees because of

123 their age, they are allowed to ask unauthorized or naïve questions. At the same time, a power relation can be divided: the interviewee can be an expert concerning the topic, and the interviewer can adopt a contrasting role, taking the position of a student (Vahasantanen & Saarinen, 2012, p.496).

Further, some participants mentioned that they were more comfortable discussing emotional topics with me than they would have been with a male interviewer. For example, one participant suggested that other participants were likely to be as open with me as he had been because

most people would find [discussing experiences of abuse] easier with a woman. (Sabai, non-offender)

This is consistent with Arendell’s (1997, p.348) experience of interviewing divorced fathers, since she found that her status as a woman positively impacted men’s ability to discuss emotional and sensitive topics, because “it can be more acceptable to discuss personal matters with a female than with a male interviewer,” and because men may relate to a female interviewer based on “their expectations of [her] as a woman.”

Outsider Status. The concept of the researcher as an “insider” or an “outsider” to the group being studied has received significant attention in the literature (Ahmed, 2014; Couture et al., 2012; Dwyer & Buckle, 2009). Not being a victim of CSA myself, I anticipated that being a “non-survivor” would involve a certain “outsider” status. There are numerous advantages to being an “insider”, including facilitating access to participants, “promoting a more balanced understanding” (Ahmed, 2014, p.3), and allowing “researchers more rapid and more complete acceptance”. This means that participants are “typically more open with researchers so that there may be a greater depth to the data gathered” (Dwyer & Buckle, 2009, p.58). Since I was “separate to, and outside” the experiences I was documenting (Salter, 2010, p.202) I was concerned that my lack of familiarity with the lived experience of CSA would complicate the research process such that “areas of ambiguity and contradiction” might have been missed (Salter, 2010, p.202).

However, others have argued that it may be equally beneficial to be an “outsider” because too much familiarity “may breed a lack of interpretability and presumptions” (Couture et al., 2012, p.90). Participants may not fully explain their experiences to an “insider” due to the presumption that the “insider” would already understand. Conversely,

124 an “insider” may assume they understand the experience of the participant, and may not further investigate things that an “outsider” would (Couture et al., 2012). “Outsider” status also allows the researcher enough distance to see through the complexities of a situation and appreciate a wider perspective “with its connections, causal patterns, and influences” that someone who is internal to the experience may not be able to see (Dwyer & Buckle, 2009, p.59; Couture et al., 2012).

Rather than being a barrier to research, my “outsider” status provided the opportunity to enter the world of the participants with care and compassion, and to listen attentively to their accounts. To utilise the strengths of my “outsider” status, I followed the approaches of Dwyer and Buckle (2009) and Ahmed (2014) of openly acknowledging it. For example, in her study of the impact of the “war on terror” on British Muslims, Ahmed (2014, p.6) “purposely highlighted her role as someone that did not have direct experience” and instead fostered a context where participants were empowered to share their perspectives.

For survivors of CSA, the secrecy inherent in the experience, coupled with the complicating effect of CSA on survivors’ perceptions of their masculinity and sexuality, may prevent men from openly discussing their experiences. By directly acknowledging my “outsider” status and desire to learn from participants, I hoped to empower them to share their experiences with me.

Researcher Identity. Morse and Field (1996) caution that “knowledge of the literature may make it difficult for the researcher to approach the research without preconceptions, thus misleading or distracting the researcher’s perception” (p.37). It was, therefore, imperative that I evaluated the literature comprehensively for biases and unsubstantiated conclusions, and that I used this prior knowledge as a guide only.

In addition to my social position and “outsider” status, my prior research into the area of CSA, and the theoretical foundations I brought to the analysis, meant that I could not avoid subjectivity in the gathering and interpretation of data. I had undertaken years of research into CSA, but had not yet heard first-hand accounts of experiences from survivors. Accordingly, I held a “researcher identity” that was based on my assumptions and preconceptions that were developed through immersion in the literature, and analyses of theoretical accounts of the experience of CSA. While these assumptions were removed from the daily, lived experience of CSA of my participants, they informed my research questions, which in turn guided the interviews, and may have affected my

125 interpretations.

While it was important to be informed, it was equally important to be open-minded (Kvale, 1992; Lowes & Prowse, 2001). Throughout the interview process and analysis, my assumptions and biases were continually questioned through the recursive process of revising interview questions and subsequent analyses (see sections 4.3, 4.3.7). Further, acknowledging my prior assumptions about CSA based on the literature allowed for a conscious awareness that I could not simply “ignore evidence because it does not fit [my] prior assumptions” (Yow, 1997, p.71).

Personal Identity. CSA is inherently an emotive issue, and child sex offenders are among the most stigmatised groups in society (Ricciardelli & Moir, 2013; Sapp & Vaughn, 1990). I anticipated that hearing accounts of participants’ experiences of CSA and accounts of CSA perpetration would necessarily invoke feelings of sadness, anger, and empathy. Empathy is deemed important in qualitative research (Ahmed, 2014; Minichiello, Aroni & Hayes, 2008; Yow, 1997), because “[i]nterviewers who can respond to narrators with empathy can expect fuller answers, while an inability to have empathy may cut short the interview” (Minichiello, Aroni & Hayes, 2008, p.84). Lavis (2010) suggests that researchers:

cannot remain within the identity of professional researcher. They must form an identity which enables them to act with empathy, care, and responsibility for the momentary welfare of the participant (p.324).

While empathy seemed important for the present study, I considered that other emotions, such as judgement, would negatively affect the research process. In her study of British Muslim’s reactions to the “war on terror”, Ahmed (2014) found that it was necessary to engage in “emotional management” because “where some emotions like anger were concerned … expressing them could potentially influence what was revealed.” Dickson- Swift et al. (2007, p.69) suggest that many researchers engage in constant self- management as a means of protecting themselves during research that involves “a high level of expressed emotion; that is, people crying or feeling angry.”

As an “outsider” and as a “researcher” I engaged in emotional self-management, however on a personal level, it was sometimes difficult to hide or manage emotions when hearing about participants’ experiences. Yow (1997) suggests that empathy may not always be possible, and, like Colton and Vanstone (1996, p.5) in their interviews with

126 child sex offenders, I sometimes had to “consciously inhibit [my] natural reactions to some of the discourse of the men … to facilitate a process that enable[d] their stories to be told.” My reflections on such concerns during the design of the project allowed me to emotionally prepare for the interview, and debriefing procedures after the interviews assisted with further management of my emotional reactions.

Overall, by acknowledging my role in the interview process at the outset of the study, I was able to account for myself in the design of the project, collection and analysis of data, and reporting and interpretation of findings.

4.4.2 Reflecting on qualitative research: Participants’ experiences During the interview process, variations in the conduct of the interview were made to accommodate the individual needs of each participant, and emotional or upsetting topics were approached with care and compassion. Despite most participants experiencing some degree of emotional upset during the interview, participants described the process as largely positive, and as cathartic or therapeutic:

I found it therapeutic talking to you. (John, offender).

I wanted to do this; this is cathartic. (Butch, offender).

It’s kind of therapeutic for me, to revisit some of this stuff. And I knew it would be to a certain degree … I've never met a survivor that likes talking about it … but I think, and rightly so, it will always be cathartic; it will always be emotional to a certain degree. (Steve, non-offender).

Some participants, particularly offenders, mentioned that the interview provided them with an opportunity (that they rarely had) to tell their story:

Thank you for including me in your project … There aren't many people I can speak to about this experience. (John, offender).

I've wanted to tell my story… I've wanted to talk like this forever. (Butch, offender).

Others felt that the interview process had helped them come to new insights about their experiences. This may have been related to the fact that they were describing their experiences to someone who was not an “insider”:

127 It never ceases to amaze me how just recalling things and trying to make sense of them can help me to important insights … it has helped to settle the dust some more. So thank you again. I now understand more than I did. (Adrian, non- offender).

While this stuff can be difficult and just plain horrible, I feel I have benefited from the chance to retell and gain a deeper insight into what these issues meant in my life … for me, being able to discuss them is really powerful, you know, it frees me, it’s like, throwing the chains off … it’s cathartic. (Larry, non-offender).

Overall, like other researchers who have identified the potential benefits of research participation for vulnerable populations (Adams, 2010; Becker-Blease & Freyd, 2006; Carlick & Biley, 2004; Corbin & Morse, 2003; East et al., 2010; Elmir et al., 2011; Lowes & Gill, 2006), I found that by safeguarding the wellbeing and privacy of participants, allowing them to be in control of the interview process, and approaching sensitive topics with compassion and support, qualitative research with vulnerable participants about sensitive topics can be a largely positive experience despite the emotive nature of the subject matter. Importantly, these participants’ reflections indicate that people from vulnerable populations are capable of deciding to participate in research despite potential discomfort, since the process can serve multiple purposes for them, including catharsis, new understandings, and contributing to research that is important to them:

I hope it helps in letting the public understand that just because one is abused does not mean that those patterns will continue. (Steve, non-offender).

I hope you’ll see the patterns because I'm convinced there are patterns that other men share ... I think that would be great insight for us, great insight. (Larry, non- offender).

There are some unpleasant things about talking about it, but I'm at a point now where if something, if anything, positive could come from having this conversation then … that’s a good thing. And, you know, you’ve got to build the body of research, and that’s the only way it’s going to happen. (Benjamin, non- offender).

It’s a privilege to participate in this sort of research to help expand the knowledge.

128 (Ruben, non-offender).

4.4.3 Limitations of the life history approach Using in-depth life history interviews as a research method has both benefits and limitations in the context of investigating CSA and the transition from victim to offender. While the benefits have been discussed above, a common objection to the validity of life history interviews is the accuracy of participants’ recollections, and the honesty with which they discuss their experiences (Davidson, 2006; Kuzmanic, 2009; Morse et al., 2002; Vander Mey, 1988). Offenders in particular have been reported to feel uncomfortable disclosing sensitive information, and may both under- or over-report victimisation to gain sympathy or avoid imputations of guilt (McGrath et al., 2010).

Because offenders have also told their stories to many different listeners, “including police, lawyers, social workers, fellow inmates and so forth,” they may have developed “one or more ‘public’ narratives,” which may affect the authenticity of their accounts (Jewkes et al., 2012, p.18). For example, one offender described how his offending “narrative” changed throughout the process of conviction, trial, imprisonment and treatment. During conviction and trial, Robert focused on minimising the seriousness of his offences. This was also true during his incarceration, where being imprisoned with other child sex offenders led to a tendency to deny the harm caused by his offending. By comparison, during treatment, Robert was required to acknowledge the seriousness of his crimes, and take responsibility for the harm caused to his victims:

Straight away when I was charged my barrister said, ‘We need to run a case in mitigation.’ And that's what we did … But what is a case in mitigation? It’s trying to put the best possible complexion, the lowest level of seriousness on what you did. But in these crimes, embracing what you did, and taking responsibility, is absolutely essential. So what happens is, you run your case in mitigation, you get done, and if you go to gaol you end up … in the sex offender’s wing with a whole lot of people in the same boat as you, denying what they've actually done … it would’ve been better if you hadn’t spent 18 months trying to mitigate what you did. (Robert)

Accordingly, offenders’ narratives may have been, to varying degrees, affected by the extent to which they had spent time in the criminal justice system, and in treatment. The impact of treatment on how victims tell their stories is also relevant for non-offenders. As discussed above, the inclusion criteria for this study ensured that participants had

129 adequate support both before and after participation so that all participants had undertaken treatment. This meant that participants accounts had been influenced to some extent by the understandings they had developed during treatment. Their accounts may, therefore, reflect different degrees of understanding, or different abilities to articulate the complexity of their experiences, as explained below:

Going through the [treatment] group was really good, because I had never been able to articulate this sort of stuff before. (Larry)

It removed some of the confusion. It doesn’t, obviously, make anything undone, but it has been very good to remove the confusion. (Adrian)

The [treatment] group has been a good place for me to go … it’s a place where everyone has a meaningful story to tell. It helps when people discuss things. (TML)

While it was not possible to confirm the accuracy of participants’ narratives in this study, particularly of events that occurred some time ago, and although their recollections may have been affected by errors of memory, like other qualitative researchers, I did not “consider ‘objective’ facts to be of interest” (Lorentzen et al., 2008, p.166; Germeten, 2013; Marvasti & Faircloth, 2002). Rather, it was a participant’s “definition of the situation” from his own perspective that I considered to be most important in understanding the transition from victim to offender (Plummer, 1983, p.38), because

the way in which a person presents information about their perceptions and experiences is tied to the way in which they attach meaning to these events and experiences and most people act on their own interpretations (Minichiello et al., 2008, p.111).

Nonetheless, the utility of life history interviews may be limited by the study’s sample. While including victims and offenders from community organisations ensured that they had adequate support, these men may have had very different experiences from those who either could not, or chose not to, access support for their abuse histories, such as survivors who were still abusing children. Further, my sample was small, and represented the experiences of mostly Caucasian men from middle-class socioeconomic backgrounds, which leaves the experiences of survivors and offenders who do not fit this profile unaccounted for.

130 However, because my intention was to “elicit rich detail not readily obtained through quantitative methods” rather than to make claims of representativeness (Colton, Roberts & Vanstone, 2010, p.348), the findings of this research are not intended to be generalisable to all CSA victims, or to all child sex offenders, nor are they intended to imply that any given factor causes a victim to become an offender. Rather, this study is exploratory, and is concerned with elements of CSA experiences that may be correlated with the perpetration of CSA later in life (Burton, Miller & Shill, 2002; Jespersen, Lalumiere & Seto, 2009). My aim is to contribute to understandings of what leads some men to sexually abuse children in adulthood. The findings from the qualitative analysis outlined in this chapter are presented in the following two chapters, before a discussion of the significance of these findings in Chapter 7.

131 Chapter 5: The Lived Experiences of Non-Offending Victims

This chapter outlines the findings from a qualitative analysis of ten non-offending participants’ narratives. Findings are presented according to the key themes that emerged from participants’ accounts, including the characteristics of their CSA experiences; the impact of CSA on their sexuality; and the impact of CSA on their relationships with family, peers, and romantic partners throughout their lives. Participants’ accounts are discussed using the pseudonyms that they chose. Table 5.1 contains the demographic information for this group.

Table 5.1 Demographic Information: Non-offenders (n=10) Pseudonym Age Marital Children Occupation Background Status Larry 66 Married 3 Retired school teacher Australian Evan 39 Single 0 Digital producer Australian Adrian 57 Married 2 Professor British Steve 46 Single 0 Youth officer British Stuart 47 Single 0 Retired finance officer Australian TML 60 Married 1 IT consultant Australian Benjamin 38 Married 4 Systems Engineer Australian Ruben 67 Married 4 Semi-retired legal consultant Dutch/ Australian Sabai 62 De facto 5 Retired school teacher Australian David 58 Single 0 Unemployed Indigenous Australian

5.1 Characteristics and Experiences of Abuse

As discussed in Chapter 2, research indicates that certain characteristics of CSA may affect the development of sexually abusive behaviours. For example, a comprehensive review of the CSA literature revealed that four abuse characteristics are most often associated with subsequent child sex offending: abuse at 12 years of age or older, severe abuse, frequent abuse, and/or abuse by someone with whom the child has a relationship of dependency (Plummer & Cossins, 2016).

Other abuse characteristics, such as grooming experiences that involve relationship development, delayed disclosure, and experiencing negative responses to disclosure, 132 have also been linked to subsequent child sex offending in some studies (see Chapter 2).

Since this chapter analyses non-offending participants’ experiences, none of the characteristics of abuse outlined above are expected to be present. To examine the lived experience of non-offending participants’ more generally, the following sections will describe the relevant abuse characteristics and experiences as reported in participants’ interviews: x Age at abuse onset (section 5.1.1); x Duration and frequency of abuse (section 5.1.1); x Relationship to abuser (section 5.1.2); x Abuser gender (section 5.1.2); x Grooming experiences (section 5.1.3); x Abuse severity (section 5.1.4); x Disclosure experiences (section 5.1.5).

5.1.1 Age at Abuse Onset, Duration and Frequency of Abuse Age at onset. Previous research suggests that the onset of abuse at 12 years of age or older is implicated in the transition from victim to offender (Ogloff et al., 2012). Since Ogloff et al.’s (2012) study involved a representative sample of victims, it was expected that most participants in this sample would have first experienced CSA under the age of 12 years. However, as shown in Table 5.2, five participants first experienced abuse at 12 years of age or older.

The average age at onset was 8.6 years. While age at onset was defined as a participant’s first experience of CSA, some participants experienced abuse by multiple offenders, and the age at onset for each of these experiences varied (Table 5.2).

Table 5.2 Age at Onset & Cessation, Duration and Frequency of CSA: Non- offenders (n=10) Participant Age at Onset Age at Cessation Duration in Years CSA Frequency Larry 14 16.5 2.5 Fortnightly Evan 6 13 7 Abuser 1: Monthly 7 9 <1 Abuser 2: 2 incidents Adrian 14 15 1 Weekly Steve 4 15 11 Daily Stuart 4 16 12 Multiple Abusers: Daily

133 TML 12 20 8 Multiple Abusers: Monthly Benjamin 11 13 2 Monthly Ruben 14 22 8 Weekly Sabai 2 14 12 Multiple Abusers: Daily David 5 5 <1 Abuser 1: 1 incident 12 12 <1 Abuser 2: 1 incident 13 13 <1 Abuser 3: 1 incident 14 15 1 Abuser 4: Monthly Average 8.6* 16** 6.5*** Median 7 14 7 *Average calculated based on first incident of CSA if the participant experienced abuse by more than one abuser. ** Average calculated based on last incident of CSA if the participant experienced abuse by more than one abuser. *** Average calculated excluding isolated incidents of abuse.

Patterns among participants’ narratives, therefore, do not support past research that suggests that if a person’s first experience of abuse occurs under the age of 12 they may be less likely to develop sexually abusive behaviours. To explain this finding, I draw on participants’ narratives to further examine the relevance of age at abuse onset in in the context of their experiences.

Ogloff et al. (2012) and others have identified that experiencing abuse over the age of 12 affects the transition from victim to offender because of the greater sexual awareness at this age, and the greater impact of CSA on sexual development (Azad & Leander, 2015; Cossins & Plummer, 2016; Feiring, Taska & Lewis, 1999; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Ogloff et al., 2012; Roller et al., 2009). Differences in the age at which children develop sexual awareness may help to explain why no participants in this sample became child sex offenders, despite five participants first experiencing CSA at 12 years of age or older. All participants reported that they had no understanding of CSA prior to their experiences of abuse (n=10). Participants who experienced CSA from a young age (prior to sexual development) revealed that they developed a range of perceptions and understandings of their experiences, such as “something that all children go through” or as a “special relationship”, before they became aware of the sexual nature of the abuse:

Before the abuse I had no concept, I hadn’t even started thinking about sex … you know we were in the country, we didn’t even have commercial TV, so like it was literally something that I hadn’t come across. (Benjamin)

134 I didn’t know what was wrong, I didn’t know what was right, I just didn’t know, it had never happened before, so, I mean, does this happen to all kids? (Stuart)

I kind of just thought it was something that all kids went through. That that’s what adults did. I didn’t know any different. (Evan)

Several participants noted that they only became aware that what they were experiencing was “wrong” when they reached a certain age, usually around the onset of adolescence when greater psychosexual awareness led to concerns about the sexual nature of the abuse (n=6). For example, Evan said:

I got to the age where I was becoming a teenager … doing sex education in high school … maturing, and I realised that what was going on was wrong.

Similarly, almost all participants who were first abused at 12 years or over (4 out of 5), emphasised their developmental immaturity and lack of sexual awareness when their abuse began:

[I was] a very naïve 14, and I think just as a young man … I would’ve been a bit behind my peers. (Larry, abuse onset at 14 years).

I was one of the last that wasn’t mature. I didn’t have any understanding, I mean sexual assault I’d heard of, but … all I’d done was heard of it, I didn’t really know what it meant. (Adrian, abuse onset at 14 years).

I was very immature … my sex education was like ‘Here’s a picture of a man, and here’s his penis’ … And my introduction to sexuality was when I was abused. (TML, abuse onset at 12 years).

Although this sample is not representative of the population of non-offending victims, these findings suggest that it may be important to consider a participants’ sexual development at the time of their abuse. This issue could be the subject of future research to determine if it is an important factor associated with subsequent child sex offending behaviours.

135 Duration and frequency. Past research suggests that longer durations and higher frequencies of CSA are implicated in the transition from victim to offender (Bagley, Wood, & Young, 1994; Burton, Miller, & Shill, 2002; Holmes & Slap, 1998; Veneziano, Veneziano, & LeGrand, 2000). It was therefore expected that participants would not report long durations or high frequencies of CSA. However, duration of abuse in this sample ranged from less than one year to 12 years (M=6.5 years). Only one participant experienced several single incidents of abuse by multiple abusers, followed by a longer experience of abuse by a single abuser. No participants reported a single isolated experience of abuse, and only four experienced abuse for 3 years or less. The remaining participants (n=6) experienced abuse for 7 or more years (Table 5.2).

While it was often difficult for participants to determine the exact frequency of CSA experiences, three described daily abuse, two weekly abuse, one fortnightly abuse, and four described monthly abuse. In some cases, duration is an average over the total period of time rather than an indication of regularity; for example, Benjamin estimated 50 experiences over 3 years, which increased during the swimming season (Table 5.2). While there is no concrete definition of “high frequency abuse” within the literature, most studies consider “frequent” abuse to include multiple experiences of CSA, and the level of frequency increases with the number of those experiences (e.g. Hunter & Figueredo, 2000). Accordingly, all non-offending participants can be described as having experienced frequent abuse, with half the sample experiencing abuse either daily or weekly.

Participants’ experiences of relatively high frequencies and long durations of abuse is inconsistent with past research that suggests that these characteristics of abuse are likely to be associated with subsequent child sex offending behaviours (see Plummer & Cossins, 2016). However, these abuse characteristics provide little indication, by themselves, about why participants in this sample did not become offenders. As will be discussed in section 5.1.3, grooming involves behaviours such as relationship-building that are designed to gain, and maintain, a child’s compliance and deter disclosure. It is possible, therefore, that longer and more frequent experiences of abuse may be related to the types of grooming experiences that non-offenders experienced. These findings about the frequency and duration of abuse will therefore be considered in relation to grooming experiences.

136 5.1.2 Gender of Abuser and Relationship to Abuser The literature is ambiguous about whether the gender of the abuser affects the transition from victim to offender. Some studies have linked abuse by a female perpetrator to subsequent offending, while others report that abuse by a male perpetrator impacts the transition from victim to offender (see Chapter 2, section 2.4). In light of this ambiguity, Chapter 2 suggested that the gender of a boy’s abuser may impact the transition from victim to offender if gender influences his perceptions of early sexual experiences as non-abusive (Gartner, 2000). Similarly, past research indicates that how a boy perceives his relationship with his abuser, and the degree of dependency and closeness that is involved in that relationship, may affect subsequent offending (Ketring & Feinauer, 1999; Plummer & Cossins, 2016; Williams, 2008).

It was, therefore, expected that participants would describe their experiences of CSA as abusive (which may be related to the gender of their abuser), and would describe more distant relationships with their abusers.

Consistent with past research into boys’ experiences of CSA, nine out of ten participants were abused by men only, while one participant (Sabai) was abused by his mother in addition to numerous men (Table 5.3) (ABS, 2014; Faller, 1989; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; Kobayashi et al., 1995; Ogloff et al., 2012). While participants did not understand their experiences to be abusive at the time they occurred, most participants understood the abuse to “wrong” by the time they developed some sexual awareness, and all described their experiences as abusive at the time of the interview, as the accounts in section 5.1.1 and 5.1.3 below reveal.

However, it is difficult to identify which elements of the victim-offender relationship contributed to the fact that these participants did not become offenders. As set out in Table 5.3, non-offending participants’ relationships to their abusers varied and included teachers and priests (n=4), strangers (n=3), peers (n=2), and family members (including parents and siblings) (n=3).

Table 5.3 Relationship to Abuser, and Abuser Gender: Non-offenders (n=10) Participant Relationship to Abuser Abuser Gender Larry Priest Male Evan Two abusers: Older peer, Adult family friend Male

137 Adrian Teacher Male Steve Stepfather Male Stuart Multiple abusers: Father, Stepfather, Brother Male TML Multiple abusers: Strangers Male Benjamin Teacher (Christian Brother) Male Ruben Stranger Male Sabai Multiple abusers: Mother, Grandfather, Uncles, Younger Brother Male & Female David Multiple abusers: Older peers; Teacher; Stranger; Coach Male Summary Family Members (n=3); Teachers and Priests (n=3); 10 Male: 1 Strangers (n=3); Peers (n=2); Other Known Adults (n=2) Female

Consistent with the literature on FPCSA, Sabai described experiences of “overt” and “sadistic” forms of maternal abuse (see Chapter 2, section 2.4), that included penetrative and non-penetrative abuse, along with behaviours that were “intended to hurt” Sabai, consistent with a “general pattern of severe physical and emotional abuse” (Lawson, 1993, p.266). For example, Sabai experienced CSA perpetrated by his mother, grandfather, and several other male relatives, and described the following experiences of CSA, along with emotional and physical abuse:

there were excuses, you know, I did something wrong, I was a bit cheeky or something, so there was severe rape and torture. My mother would molest me, and make me have sex with her … about age 12, I slept on a bed in my parents’ room, I think that was just so my mother could have access to me … I was held underwater by my grandfather and my mother, just repeatedly.

The literature suggests that FPCSA is similar in nature and severity to male-perpetrated CSA (see Chapter 2, section 2.4). Consistent with this, while Sabai was abused by his mother along with several male offenders, his maternal abuse experiences did not differ substantially from participants who were abused by men in terms of the nature or severity of the abuse.

However, of particular note is that Sabai described the abuse by his mother as worse than the abuse perpetrated by other male relatives:

My mother was my first memory [of sexual abuse] … that was the hardest, being my mother. My grandfather [also sexually abused Sabai] was an old evil, twisted

138 fuck, and I don’t like to compare, but I don’t think I would’ve suffered as much if it hadn’t been my mother. And it’s hard to say, because there was so much in my life: manipulation, torture, neglect, rape, mind control. So, you know, what caused what? But I'm conscious of the affects from what my mother did and didn’t do … For me, the effect on me, just survival, you know … if she doesn’t feed you, you die. I think it’s just that connection. You come from her, that’s what I put it down to.

While many studies define the closeness of the victim-offender relationship in terms of whether the victim is a familial relative of his abuser (Burton et al., 2002; Herbert et al., 2006), only a minority of the participants in this sample had a “close” relationship with their abuser according to this definition (n=3). However, the closeness or degree of dependency within the victim-offender relationship for a number of participants in this sample was largely unrelated to the familial/non-familial distinction (see section 5.1.3 below). Although dependency was implied for participants abused by family members (i.e. participants relied on their familial abusers for basic needs when their abuser was a parent), those participants who were emotionally “close to” or “dependent upon” their abusers described situations in which their abuser had developed a close relationship with them. For example, Ruben said:

I was 14 when it started, and the sex certainly started then, and it sort of continued all the way through. And then I, in a sense I think I became dependent on this relationship.

The development of an emotionally close (n=3) and/or dependent relationship (n=3) was highlighted by six participants as integral to their feelings towards their abusers, both at the time and later. These findings should, therefore, be considered in relation to the context in which participants’ relationships with their abusers were formed (i.e. participants’ experiences of grooming) to explore the types of victim-abuser relationships that non-offending participants had with their abusers.

5.1.3 Grooming Past research suggests that the transition from victim to offender may be affected by the creation of a dependent relationship wherein feelings of shame and self-blame are emphasised, and where the grooming process results in positive perceptions or experiences of physical pleasure during the abuse (see section 2.6). It was expected,

139 therefore, that non-offending participants did not develop close relationships with their abusers through the grooming process.

Nonetheless, qualitative analysis revealed particular patterns of grooming. Since those who experienced extra-familial abuse (n=7) described very different experiences of grooming compared with intra-familial abuse (n=3) these are discussed separately.29

Characteristics of Grooming Experiences. Most extra-familial participants reported that their abuser showed interest in them and developed a “relationship” with them through inducements, attention, affection and emotional rapport, both prior to and after the onset of abuse (n=6). This impeded their ability to disclose the abuse and kept them within the “relationship.”

It went from bubble gum and lollies to cigarettes and marijuana. (Evan, E).

I liked the attention I was getting from him. (Larry, E).

I certainly had the impression that he loved me. (Adrian, E).

Gradual Desensitisation. While two experienced a slow progression of sexual desensitisation30 over time, half reported that sexual abuse occurred the first or second time their abuser isolated them from others (e.g. parents or friends) with the intention of abusing them. For example:

It started out reasonably ambiguous … when it first crossed the line was … in the context of comforting me, you know, a hug, kind of from behind, which was odd, but kind of fit … he would then kind of rest his hand on my genitals, where I wouldn’t really know … was that an accident? … He kind of normalised that over time … then I started spending more time in his office … and it just gradually got more and more sexual. (Benjamin, E).

He knew what he wanted and he managed to arrange it with my parents, and, ah, he didn’t mess around. On the first evening … got straight to it. (Adrian, E).

29 To differentiate intra-familial and extra-familial survivors throughout the analysis, an “I” next to a survivor’s name indicates intra-familial abuse, while an “E” indicates extra-familial abuse. 30 A perpetrator will commonly begin with relatively mild or non-sexual touching that progresses to more serious types of sexual activity over time. See section 2.6. for more detail. 140 In contrast, no pre-abuse grooming was reported by victims of intra-familial abuse who were abused from very young ages (average onset at 4 years) and were often entering adolescence before becoming aware that their experiences were not common to all children. Previous research has also reported that pre-abuse grooming in intra-familial settings may be limited because offenders will be known to their victims, while post- abuse grooming aims to normalise sexual behaviours “to the extent that the victim does not even perceive themselves as having been abused” (McAlinden, 2013, p. 4).

Avoiding Disclosure. More than half the victims of extra-familial abuse did not report experiencing coercion to avoid disclosure (n=6).

He knew that I was very putty in his hands … He never had to threaten me in any way. Somehow he knew that I was never going to open my mouth. (Larry, E)

Who would I tell? I think one of the reasons I was chosen was that I was clearly unconnected to anyone. (TML, E).

Intra-familial victims, on the other hand, all reported experiencing violence or aggression (e.g. threats of harm to themselves or others) to maintain compliance and deter disclosure. An increase in coercion to avoid disclosure was related to the development of their understandings of abuse (usually around the onset of adolescence) as Steve explains:

I don’t know at what age you recognise that it’s wrong. I guess for me, I was 12 or something, where you start thinking, ‘This shouldn’t be happening to me.’ And you have a little bit more awareness. Then threats of violence against me and my family were made by him.

Context of Grooming Experiences. Both intra-familial and extra-familial victims indicated that three factors facilitated their abuser’s success in grooming them: (i) their own vulnerabilities (e.g. little or no social support); (ii) their abuser’s social position, usually one of trust, authority and power that minimised suspicion from participants’ families or communities and made participants feel they could not say ‘No’; and

141 (iii) the broader social context in which their abuse occurred, with participants often describing an environment in which CSA was not discussed or acknowledged as a serious issue, which served to limit their avenues to seek help or disclose their abuse, as explained below:

Here’s me, young and naïve, and he's giving me things I couldn’t imagine, going out for a trip, food and things … it’s more affection than you get from all of the rest of the world. (TML, E).

This is a Catholic family … where priests would come in to houses, and they had access to all these people and they were like gods, what they said was the word. (Larry, E).

Extra-familial victims’ experiences of conscious and systematic pre-abuse grooming designed to build trust and dependency are consistent with other research using non- representative samples of offenders (Campbell, 2009; Elliott et al., 1995; Kaufman et al., 1998; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001), as well as archival research into cases of CSA (Gallagher, 2000) and reviews of the literature (McAlinden, 2013; Olsen et al., 2007). However, extra-familial participants’ limited experiences of gradual sexual desensitisation and intra-familial participants’ experiences of more aggressive approaches to enforce compliance are generally inconsistent with previous research (Colton et al., 2010; Conte et al. 1989; Elliott et al., 1995; Katz & Barnetz, 2015; Lang & Frenzel, 1998; Phelan, 1995; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001; Sullivan & Beech, 2004).

Since understandings of gradual desensitisation have largely been developed from samples of offenders, this finding highlights a potential disconnect between offenders’ accounts of sexual progression and victims’ experiences. It is also possible that male victims experience different types of sexual escalation behaviours compared to female victims who are most often victims of CSA, and therefore are more often included in CSA research. The use of forceful coercion within intra-familial settings may reflect the relative safety from detection afforded to intra-familial as opposed to extra-familial abusers, since “family relationships between adults and children incorporate and permit adult control and discipline of children … Those within and without the family take these relationships at face value” (Young, 1997, p.6).

Environmental Grooming. Consistent with the previous literature, six participants reported that their abusers had also groomed their family (particularly for extra-familial

142 victims) and the environment (particularly for intra-familial victims) to minimise the “perceptions of others about potential risk” (McAlinden, 2013, p. 2; see also Campbell, 2009; Colton et al., 2010; Craven et al., 2006; Elliott et al., 1995; Katz & Barnetz, 2016; Olsen et al., 2007; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001) as two participants explained:

In the course of that process as well he became a friend of the family. I remember over a period of time he gave my parents a new stove and things like that. (Ruben, E)

He started coming to my house … Mum thought that was wonderful because he’s a priest coming over … so he would have a meal and then he would take me to the drive-in [where] he would molest me. (Larry, E)

Stages of Grooming. Participants described two key stages of grooming (i) the initial stage of creating a relationship prior to abuse, which focused on inducements and environmental grooming; and (ii) a second stage, likely to occur after abuse onset, which involved inducements, emotional coercion and relationship development, as well as violent coercion for intra-familial victims. For example, Ruben explained that:

Grooming is more than just getting you ready for [sexual acts] … The grooming might be … the different life and the fancy restaurants … Entrapment is probably too strong a word, but it’s about keeping you in that space. And they're very different sorts of things and different stages.

The first stage was generally associated with feelings of confusion and perceptions of the grooming as tolerable, or even appealing (e.g. attention, treats), because abusers often fulfilled needs that were not addressed in other areas of participants’ lives (e.g. due to social isolation, socioeconomic disadvantage, or parental neglect). By comparison, participants reported that stage two kept them entrapped in the relationship, engendered feelings of shame and responsibility for the abuse, and deterred disclosure, which resulted in more negative perceptions of this stage. While these findings accord with Craven et al.’s (2006) identification of the goals of grooming (gaining access, gaining compliance, maintaining secrecy), participants’ narratives suggest that there is not a distinct difference between grooming behaviours pre- and post-abuse, such that “maintaining secrecy” may involve simultaneous processes of maintaining compliance (e.g. through inducements and relationship development) and deterring disclosure (through emotional or violent coercion).

143 Impacts of Grooming. The impacts of grooming from participants’ perspectives have rarely been examined in the literature, nor have they been adequately explored from the perspectives of male victims. By analysing the experiences of an adult sample, the findings provide tentative evidence for both immediate and enduring impacts of grooming behaviours.

Immediate impacts of grooming included feelings of confusion during the first stage of grooming (pre-abuse) (n=4), in response to various seemingly innocuous behaviours, such as perpetrators befriending them. Seven participants reported negative emotional responses in relation to stage two, after the onset of abuse, including self-blame, responsibility, shame and fear. These were associated with participants’ perceptions that stage two kept them in situations in which they felt unable to leave or seek help, as described below:

The grooming might be the toys and the fun ... The entrapment is the shame and the guilt and all of that and you move into a different stage. (Ruben, E).

One of the hardest things that I've had to deal with about the entire thing is that especially after the first six months … I knew what was happening was not right, but … he made me feel like a co-conspirator, or even the initiator. (Benjamin, E).

Some participants continued to experience confusion about why their abuser had selected them (n=3) and why they didn’t say “No”, or leave, particularly those who experienced long durations of abuse (n= 4). The importance of keeping the abuse a secret (often instilled by their abusers) also endured for most participants (n=9), while anxiety about impending negative experiences persisted for one participant as described below:

I understand … the mechanics of grooming and the calculated abuse of my vulnerability, but I still fail to understand ‘Why me?’ ... I guess I'll never understand. (Benjamin, E).

The fact that I’d never said ‘No’ I think was the thing that I’d always held in my head, you know, ‘You never stood up for yourself, you never said no’. (Evan, E).

144 I think I was just … it was engrained ... Got to keep everything secret. (Adrian, E).

I had been repeating grooming experiences through my life … I know something’s going to … come along that I'm not going to cope with and that I have to be very stoical and just hold it down. So, many experiences have, in my mind, been grooming. They probably haven’t been grooming from the person, but I interpret them as grooming experiences. And I react in this very anxious way towards them. (Larry, E).

The psychological and emotional process of building trust by offenders has been addressed in the literature (e.g. Campbell, 2009; Craven et al., 2006; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Katz & Barnetz, 2016; McAlinden, 2006; Olsen et al, 2007). In this study, feelings of shame and guilt deterred disclosure at the time of abuse, and also had long- term impacts on participants, who struggled with these feelings throughout their lives. In fact, participants’ accounts suggest that there may be a relationship between the development of emotional dependence, duration of abuse, and the likelihood that a victim will experience feelings of self-blame and responsibility, both at the time and throughout their lives. For example:

It was engineered to be my fault, it was constructed that way from the beginning … It’s a constant to keep reminding myself that I wasn’t responsible and it wasn’t my fault … Sometimes I still feel very sick about it. (Benjamin, E).

I've got this guilt about, ‘You stayed too long, and you got something out of it.’ What I've got out of it is tainted, and I didn’t really deserve it. ... So I just took that guilt, ‘It’s your fault’, and I had to live with that for the next thirty odd years … As soon as I felt that I didn’t need to feel ashamed, there was [sic] things like grooming, initially my thoughts were ‘Well, maybe I’m not at fault’ … Every now and then … I've got to … just reinforce that. (Ruben, E).

5.1.4 Acts and Severity The extant literature suggests that severe abuse31 is a key factor related to subsequent child sex offending (Plummer & Cossins, 2016). It was, therefore, expected that

31 Severe abuse is most commonly defined in the literature as abuse involving penetration (e.g. Burton et al., 2002; Hershkowitz, 2014; Salter et al., 2003). 145 participants would describe few experiences of severe abuse. However, 9 out of 10 participants experienced severe abuse (penetration), with almost half experiencing abuse by multiple abusers.

The acts of abuse that were experienced by non-offending participants varied from contact abuse with no penetration (n=1), to anal penetration with force (n=4). All except one participant (n=9) experienced penetration (oral and/or anal), and half of the participants (n=5) experienced abuse by multiple abusers as set out in Table 5.4.

Table 5.4 Acts Experienced and Severity of CSA Experience: Non-offenders (n=10) Acts Experienced Severity of CSA Experiences Genital Oral Anal Multiple Force Longer Higher Contact Penetration Penetration Abusers Duration Frequency > 1 year > 1 incident Larry X 2.5 years fortnightly Evan X X X X 6 years monthly Adrian X X X 1 year weekly Steve X X X X 11 years daily Stuart X X X X X 12 years daily TML X X X X 8 years weekly Benjamin X X X 2 years monthly Ruben X X X 8 years weekly Sabai X X X X X 12 years daily David X X X X 1 year monthly

Because participants were recruited through a treatment provider, it is possible that participants’ experiences of severe abuse led them to seek treatment. However, it is also possible that abuse severity is only related to subsequent offending in combination with other abuse characteristics (severity alone cannot predict later offending). This issue will be discussed in more detail after analysis of offenders’ accounts of their abuse experiences in Chapters 6 and 7.

5.1.5 Disclosure As discussed in Chapter 2, while few studies directly link the impact of abuse disclosure experiences to subsequent child sex offending, research indicates that delaying disclosure or experiencing negative social reactions to disclosure may impact the transition from victim to offender, since both circumstances involve the possibility of a

146 boy normalising his abuse. It was, therefore, expected that participants in this sample would not have delayed disclosure, and would have experienced largely positive responses to disclosure.

However, as set out in Table 5.5, only three men in this sample disclosed during childhood. Seven participants did not disclose until mid to late adulthood, which is consistent with the literature on CSA victims’ disclosure patterns (e.g. Cashmore & Shackel, 2014; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; King & Woollett, 1997; O’Leary & Barber, 2008; Tang, Freyd & Wang, 2007).

Table 5.5 Disclosure Experiences: Non-Offenders (n=10) Participant Age at Age at First Delay after To Whom Response (pseudonym) Onset Disclosure Onset in Years Larry 14 50 36 Social Worker Supportive Adrian 14 50 36 Wife Supportive Evan 6 18 12 Father Supportive Stuart 4 Attempt & 12 Aunt Unsupportive recant: 16 Supportive Complete: 45 41 Police Steve 4 15 11 Friends Supportive TML 12 57 45 Wife Supportive Benjamin 11 33 22 Social media Supportive contact Ruben 14 50 36 GP Supportive Sabai 2 40 38 Friend Supportive David 5 15 10 Friends Unsupportive

Summary M= 8.6 M= 37.3 M=28.7 Friends/peers Supportive (n=8) (n=4); Unsupportive Wife (n=2); (n=2) Professional (n=2); Father (n=1); Aunt (n=1)

Barriers to disclosing the abuse included: x fear of family and peer reactions (e.g. that others would view the abusive experience as a weakness, or would suspect that the participant would become an abuser) (n=9);

147 x fear of not being believed (n=6); x the engrained practice of keeping secrets developed during the abuse (n=6); x not wanting to deal with the abuse (n=8); x feelings of guilt, shame and complicity (n=6); x having no one to tell (n=2); and/or x the loss of control inherent in telling someone about the abuse and no longer being in control of the secret (n=3).

For example, two participants’ disclosure experiences clearly demonstrate the loss of control when deciding to disclose their abuse:

Once I open that door … I'm giving away the control I've had all these years. I'm telling you about it and then, what’s going to happen? I don’t know … if I gave control away catastrophic thinking would take over and anything could happen. (Larry).

It was just terror at losing the secrets, losing the control. I didn’t know what would happen if they [parents] found out. (Adrian).

Throughout participants’ accounts, it was apparent that disclosure was not a single isolated incident, but a series of revelations throughout the lifecourse that involved various contexts, emotions, relationships and responses.

Who to disclose to. Participants’ initial disclosures during adulthood involved the most mental and emotional preparation, including overcoming concerns about whether to tell, when to tell, who to tell, and how they would manage others’ responses. For some, this meant “testing out” the disclosure experience with others who were not emotionally close to them to gauge the types of reactions they might experience. For example:

I knew this woman on a social network and we had chatted for a few years, and I decided, [to] use this, kind of, throw-away relationship to see what her reaction would be … I told her via email … she reacted positively, and I was lucky that was the case because if she’d reacted negatively I would’ve just gone back into a hole for another ten years probably. (Benjamin).

148 I started to see … sex workers … I’d use it as an avenue to tell my story … It was a release. It didn’t enable me to deal with it in a meaningful way … but I just had to tell people that I’d been abused as a kid … It made me feel that … I could tell somebody. (Ruben).

More commonly, initial disclosures during adulthood were made to significant people in participants’ lives who were described as “safe” to disclose to, including family, partners or friends (n=6), or people with whom they had developed a trusting relationship, including professionals (e.g. counsellors, social workers) (n=3). More than half of the participants reported experiencing psychological and physical symptoms that prompted disclosure and the need for treatment, including anxiety, stress, sleeping problems, and psychological and emotional strain (n=7). For example:

I blubbered it out to my wife one night … at the time of this psychological crash. (Adrian).

I was visiting my GP and … he said, ‘Ruben, your blood pressure’s high.’ … I said, ‘Well, I've got a bit of stress in my life.’ He's said, ‘Well, tell me about it.’ And I broke down. I was a blubbering wreck. And he saved me … he got me to see a psychiatrist. (Ruben).

I started having problems sleeping, I had a lot of flashbacks, and a lot of panic attacks, and everything just fell off the rails and I stopped being able to function … I got the courage to tell my wife. (Benjamin).

While participants did not disclose to everyone in their lives, and few went into detail when disclosing to others, subsequent disclosures were made to specific people based on circumstance and the closeness of the relationship. Disclosures throughout participants’ lives were prompted by several factors, including an inherent desire to stop keeping secrets (n=6), a desire to place the blame with the offender rather than themselves (n=6), or changing life circumstances that made participants feel safe enough to disclose (n=4). For example:

I picked the people I would tell … I think it’s got to be a person … who’s prepared to form a relationship with you, even … short-term, it just means that it’s safe to tell them. (Larry).

149 I said to myself … ‘If I'm ever in a position where I'm asked straight up I'm just going to be straight up’ … I was tired of lying about it because it makes it seem like I've done something wrong, and I wanted to change that. (Benjamin).

I was in a discussion with some lawyers and they were talking about the [Royal] Commission [into CSA] and there was a view being put that was a bit against the victims, and I stood up quite strongly and said, ‘By the way, this is what happened to me’. (Ruben).

Reactions to disclosure. As discussed above, the literature suggests that reactions to disclosure may impact the cycle of CSA, with negative or unsupportive responses being implicated in the transition from victim to offender. Two participants who disclosed during childhood or early adulthood experienced supportive reactions to their initial disclosure:

I was 18 … I told dad. And then he went and took me to a special sexual assault counsellor … straight away. (Evan).

I’m 15 … my mum was babysitting at the time, and as soon as she opened the door I just blurted out, ‘My dad’s been abusing me.’ … My mum was obviously in shock, but she did believe me … she rang the police. (Steve).

The other two participants who attempted or completed disclosure during childhood experienced negative reactions that allowed the abuse to continue and deterred subsequent disclosure. For example:

I told my mates because I think a few of them got done, so I was one of the victims … we just kept it between us … I locked it away … we didn’t talk about it. Who’s going to believe me? (David).

[My Auntie] worked it out and I told her, and then … my Auntie told my mother that she thinks this has been happening, and I said ‘No’ … it’s easier to say ‘No’, because again, nobody’s going to believe you anyhow. (Stuart).

In adulthood, participants’ initial disclosures were met with predominantly supportive reactions (n=9), while subsequent disclosures throughout the life course resulted in a range of positive and negative reactions. Positive reactions included support, compassion, and a commitment to assist participants in seeking help:

150 [My wife] was very supportive, and helpful … she actually arranged for a psychologist straight up, because I couldn’t do it. (Benjamin)

More than half the sample commented on the importance of being believed by the people they disclosed to (n=6):

Being believed, that’s a massive thing for a victim … All through your life, you’re sort of trying to prove, you know, please believe my story … it’s hard. (Stuart)

It’s so good when people say, ‘I believe you.’ It’s more than just relieving, it’s like, ‘It’s OK, we’ll take care of you, you’ll be safe here.’ … That’s really important. (Larry)

Participants’ described negative responses to disclosures as dismissive reactions that minimised the significance of participants’ experiences (n=4), avoidance or an unwillingness to receive disclosures, particularly for intra-familial participants (n=2) or, as discussed above, reactions that allowed the abuse to continue (n=2). For example:

I went to see [a psychologist], and told him ... He more or less said, ‘Well Ruben, you're in a good place, so why don’t you just … forget about all this other stuff?’ And I thought, ‘Oh, OK, that’s the way I've got to deal with it’ … So off I went again, put the walls back up. (Ruben).

I've never spoken to the family about it … it’s typical of families to just disown, or not acknowledge, what has occurred, because they don’t want to confront that issue. (Steve).

Importance of disclosing. The importance of disclosing was described by many participants. For some, disclosure meant that they could be more emotionally close to others because they no longer felt that they were keeping a secret (n=7). For others, disclosure resulted in treatment and support that helped them deal with their abusive histories (n=9). Others found that disclosure and subsequent support allowed them to feel less alone, to understand that the abuse was not their fault, and to become more comfortable about asking for help. Below are some of their feelings in their own words:

151 I find that by talking and acknowledging … what happened to me … it’s healing. (David).

I wasn’t frightened anymore about telling people this … happened … my ability to ask for help had changed. I’d never been able to ask for help up until that time. (Larry).

I feel a lot happier with myself, that I'm not keeping secrets … which I don’t think is good for you. … It’s so common that people keep it secret for years, and then it just blurts out of them. And when they're at that stage, they need support. (Adrian).

The Royal Commission and things like that are so important, because [victims] finally actually get to say it, they get to remove it from themselves, and they get to be validated in a way, that what was done to them was wrong and it wasn’t their fault … it’s amazing how much it means to actually get that out. (Evan).

In summary, participants’ experiences of disclosure were complex, varied, and associated with a range of emotions. There were differences in the ways participants disclosed, to whom they disclosed, what prompted disclosure, and the reactions they experienced during initial and subsequent disclosures.

It was suggested in Chapter 2 (sections 2.7, 2.8) that victims who delay disclosure, or those who experience negative reactions to disclosure, may be more likely to offend. While this sample of non-offending participants delayed disclosure for between 10 and 45 years (M=28.7 years), and some participants described negative responses to disclosure, the pattern of disclosure suggests that all experienced some positive reactions, and most sought treatment following disclosure. These accounts will be compared to offenders’ experiences of disclosure in the following Chapter.

5.2 Sexuality

As discussed in Chapter 3, sexuality is a key theme inherent in all the theories of child sex offending. Because sexuality is “a complex phenomenon tied to social and cultural contexts, partner availability and embodied self-images” (Thompson & Barnes, 2012, p.271) its significance for the development of sexually abusive behaviours is addressed differently by different theories. This section will analyse participants’ perceptions of the

152 impact of their abuse on their sexuality by discussing the key themes that arose from their interviews: x the development of sexual attitudes and understandings; x the meanings attached to sexual experiences, including the link between masculinity and sexuality; and x the relationship between intimacy and sexuality.

5.2.1 Development of Sexual Attitudes and Understandings Family context. Although family contexts differed, particularly in terms of whether the abuse suffered by participants occurred within or outside the family, some participants’ narratives identified the significance of their parents’ influence on their sexual development. For example, several participants with strict religious upbringings identified a strong link between sex and marriage (n=5). Not only did this reinforce the view that sex before marriage was unacceptable, but also that socially acceptable sexual relationships were heterosexual.

In my mother’s eyes the church was a big factor … My mum was horrific in this area, always pushing about women, and sex, and about how terrible it was, and premarital sex, and it was just a horrible thing, and women should be respected. And I had no concept of how to relate to women sexually. (Larry).

No [sex before marriage]. And that's part of my upbringing, that was pushed on me, particularly by my mother. (Sabai).

I was always told when I was a kid … [heterosexuality] was the right way to go. I'm sure my mum would be devastated if she knew I was gay. (Adrian).

While all participants noted that sexuality was not openly discussed by their parents, many described developing their early understandings of “right and wrong” in relation to sexuality based on their parents’ behaviours (e.g. marriage, divorce, extra-marital sex) and moral values (n=6). All participants observed that their parents’ behaviours and beliefs emphasised heterosexuality as the norm. For example, Evan said:

I knew what, kind of, was the right, I guess the right thing, like what your parents would want you to be doing. Going out and kissing girls, going on dates, and things like that.

153 For some, the fact that sexuality was not discussed instilled the idea that sex is “bad”, or that it was not something that should be talked about. For some participants, this meant that they felt they could not disclose the abuse to their parents during childhood due to fears of getting into trouble for having done something “wrong” (n=5) as described below:

I didn’t want them [parents] to know … because with the moral and religious values that they have, nothing was ever said about anything sexual. Nothing at all! Even if the theme threatened to come up on the TV they would change channels. And so I felt absolutely no security on that score with them at all. (Adrian).

I never talked to [my mother] about it really. You know, she was religious, and Dutch, and I think it was a subject that you just didn’t talk about. (Ruben).

Peers. Although most participants described having few friends in childhood and adolescence (n=6), all indicated that peers had a strong influence on what they understood to be socially acceptable sexuality. Awareness, acknowledgment, and internalisation of the ideals of masculine sexuality were evident. Throughout adolescence and young adulthood, homophobia and heterosexism shaped all participants’ daily experiences. Peers were instrumental in reinforcing masculine sexuality as heterosexual through verbal and physical bullying, or through emphasising acceptable sexual practices. For example:

I already had the nickname ‘fairy’ at the other school … I got a right hook from a guy who … just said ‘Fuckin’ poofter’, and hit me. (Adrian).

I think the difficulty for me through adolescence was the fact that I was gay … And trying to, I guess, be heterosexual was a difficulty. (Evan).

Participants’ awareness that they would have been ostracised for being abused also suggests that CSA was regarded as the fault of the victim:

My mates would’ve teased me for what happened. Because in them days if you got screwed or touched up you was a poofter. (David).

154 He [abuser who was a teacher at Adrian’s school] had such a bad reputation that to have any association with him at all, I would’ve been completely marginalised … I’d never have got any friends. (Adrian).

The broader masculine culture of the time and social environment in which participants developed their understandings of sexuality during young adulthood involved an implicit derogation of homosexuality, practised through homophobic jokes, and derision of those who identified as homosexual. For some, the idea of being homosexual was simply “impossible”.

Never as a young man would I think about other men. That wasn’t a possibility at all because the culture was so strong. For a male to be interested in another male would just be, just diabolical. Just impossible. (Larry).

There are a lot of, especially in the early nineties in the country towns … we wouldn’t say [we were homosexual] out loud to somebody in a country town. (Benjamin).

For men who endorse the ideals of masculine sexuality, masculine social practices such as homophobia provide an opportunity to demonstrate opposition to alternative masculine sexualities (Cossins, 2000; Kimmel, 1993, 1997). However, as the quotes below show, for these participants, the importance of homophobia for the accomplishment of masculinity declined with age, social context, and changing life circumstances:

In the past, that was part of male culture, men sniggered at gay men, and to be considered a homosexual, or a ‘poofter’ as men called them, was a term of derision … gay men I've met are just lovely human beings. I think it’s very appalling that we were denigrating that way. But in the past, the culture I aspired to did that, and in some ways I aspired to that stuff too. (Larry).

I used to hate them, poofters, gays. As I’ve done time in gaol, seeing them being picked on, bullied, ostracised in their beliefs, and meeting people who are gay, blokes, ladies, and to see who they are, has brought out my non-judgmental views and understanding. (David).

155 Later in life, after I had children, I had a vehement … no gay men are going to have anything to do with my boys … I now understand that they're people too. (TML).

For many men in this sample, homophobia was not central to their masculine sexual practices. Rather, more than half of the participants either identified as homosexual or engaged in homosexual practices in adolescence or young adulthood (n=6). As a result, several participants considered the concept of sexual orientation as fluid rather than polarised, which contrasts with homophobic practices:

I was in my mid to late teens, the abuse was in my past, I was trying to come to terms with my sexuality and who I was. I experimented with sex with men, because I thought that’s who I was … But I realised that wasn’t who I was, because I fell in love basically, with a girl ... Maybe the whole concept of sexuality isn’t polar, maybe it’s fluid. (Benjamin).

There are men that I'm attracted to more than I am to some women, so it’s like if there was a woman over there with an ugly personality, and then there was a man over there who was soft, gentle, kind, attractive, I’d rather be with him sexually. (Sabai).

I have been married now for 25 or more years, and it’s now clear that you fall in love with the person, not with a boy or a girl: it’s too polarised, this orientation shit … Because people think you're gay or you're straight, or if you say you're bisexual they think that you're 50-50. I'm not: I'm about 90-10 [laughs]. And it’s not stable with time. (Adrian).

Abuse. The dominant ideals of masculine sexuality that permeated the lives of participants during adolescence and young adulthood (e.g. heterosexuality as the norm) were often contradicted by the norms of masculine sexuality that were emphasised during their abuse, and sometimes specifically by their abusers (e.g. homosexuality as the norm). Participants often struggled to reconcile their understandings of sexuality, and subsequently suffered significant confusion regarding their sexual orientation (n=7).

He convinced me that I was gay pretty much. And what I was doing were pretty much gay sex acts, and so I thought that was what I was. (Benjamin).

156 I was certainly being groomed that, you know, homosexuality is normal, and heterosexuality is abnormal … he was just really trying to … change my sexuality. (Ruben).

Since CSA was the first sexual experience for all participants, their understandings of sexuality often involved references to their experiences of CSA, which created confusion when attempting to develop their sexual identities. For most participants, understandings of sexuality were altered throughout the lifecourse, often as a result of age, changing social circumstances, as well as experiences with multiple partners and various behaviours. But for most, their CSA experiences continued to impact their understandings of sexuality (n=8). For example:

You think that you're a bit weird if you like … [anal] penetration … because you grow up with a tainted view, you think it’s abnormal. And certainly I've had a girlfriend in the past who gave a very negative reply to doing anything like that and then you think, I’m not going to mention that again … Because you like that does that mean then that you're gay? And then when I went on the gay scene and actually let men fuck me, and it’s like, ‘Nah that just doesn’t feel right’ … Sometimes sex with a woman has not felt right, but it’s always felt right to be lying next to a woman. (Steve)

[A] guy who was also abused, we had a sexual relationship, but that was because of the abuse. I've never considered myself homosexual … It was the confused way you ended up in life based on your history. (TML)

Sexual Partners. Participants identified many experiences in which socially acceptable sexual attitudes and behaviours were reinforced during sexual encounters. In other words, sexual partners were instrumental in reinforcing attitudes (e.g. sex within the context of marriage), while participants’ feelings surrounding their sexual experiences further developed their understandings (e.g. what “felt right”, what “worked”). For some, partners’ attitudes regarding sexuality aligned with their parents’ values (e.g. unacceptability of pre-marital sex):

I met this girl … I knew her from the church … she was putting a lot of pressure on me to get married …. I was a very sexually naïve person … but it was bit like I was a willing participant in premarital sex … so she said ‘If you don’t marry me

157 in this coming year, I’m going to tell your mother what we’ve been doing’ … so we got married. (Larry).

For others, sexual experiences impacted participants’ understandings of what was expected of them as men within the context of sexual encounters (e.g. as initiators of sex, self-confident, in control):

I also had a lot of issues [with not] taking the lead and not being very passive, especially early on, which is not a traditionally masculine role … it’s not what women expect. (Benjamin).

I'm this shy introverted person. And for a lot of years, it’s like, they [women] want the ‘Jack the lad’ … outgoing and extroverted. (Steve).

For some, loss of power and control during the abuse created issues for sexual participation throughout their lives. No participants engaged in sexual behaviours in which they were the dominant sexual partner, and half of the participants identified a preference for being, or likelihood to be, the less dominant partner in sexual encounters. Several participants acknowledged they had issues with the masculine ideal of being the initiator of sex:

I would seek relationships where I would be dominated by people … It was as if I was trying to be subordinate in some way. (Adrian).

For participants who identified as homosexual or who engaged in homosexual sex, sexual encounters with male partners sometimes provided a means to regain the control they lost during their abuse by being in (albeit vulnerable) positions in which they had a choice about participating. For most, being able to choose the context in which they engaged in sexual encounters (as opposed to their lack of choice as children) was important for the development of their sexuality; for example:

As a child I didn’t have a choice, and as an adult, everything that I’ve done I've made a conscious decision ... Sometimes I've enjoyed it, regardless of who it’s with, and I've been able to say stop or slow down or whatever. So although I'm putting myself at the most vulnerable I could be at, in essence, related back to being a kid and not in control, I've put myself in that situation where I have actually control. (Steve).

158 Because it did happen and it was traumatic … to then go into a relationship with a man and put yourself in that situation, that was very confusing. But I think, once I was confident with who I was and my sexuality then I let that go. (Evan).

Almost all participants had enduring issues with sexual dysfunction (n=8), and an inability to mimic ideals of masculine sexuality (e.g. to be sexually dominant, to initiate sexual encounters) meant that sexuality was often a site for experiences of vulnerability and powerlessness throughout adulthood. Half of the sample reported experiencing an inability to perform sexually at various times throughout their lives, while others described being emotionally triggered in response to certain sexual acts which affected their ability to be sexual.

Guilt and shame surrounding the abuse also persisted for most participants and often had detrimental impacts on their sexuality and sexual function. Sexual dysfunction resulted in frustration, emotional upset, feelings of inadequacy or discomfort, and feelings of being different to other men. While participants were aware of the importance of sexuality for constructing masculine identities, enduring issues with sexual performance meant that sexuality was not a site in which they could reliably prove their masculinity. For example:

[Sexual behaviours have] always been difficult … My wife doesn’t give me surprise cuddles. I have to work hard at being affectionate, and being physically affectionate … Some things are off the table, and sometimes it just doesn’t work … it’s annoying, and frustrating. (Benjamin)

When I met my wife, we did a bit of courting sort of thing, and then the time came to make love in the relationship, and I couldn’t. And I broke down, I just cried. I was like 22 … Because the guilt … I felt dirty, I felt different. (Ruben)

One problem in our relationship, that reduced my sex drive: she’d initiate a lot. And that was the same with my first wife, but she’d only do it once a month, so I’d be prepared for it ... But with [Mary] it could be any time of any day or night, which was … triggering. (Sabai)

Sexual Interests and Experiences. Most participants reported a range of sexual experiences throughout the lifecourse (n=8) that also impacted the development of their

159 sexuality. Since CSA was their first sexual experience, many noted that the lack of natural progression with respect to sexual development left them unsure of what their sexual interests and preferences would have been had they not been sexually abused. Engagement in a range of sexual experiences was often a way to explore their sexuality and determine “what felt right” (n=8). For example, three participants described paying for sex, and one participant engaged in sex work during his early years at university. Others engaged in group sex, casual or anonymous sex (e.g. one-night stands), and “alternative” sexual subcultures (e.g. “fetish scene”). One described himself as polyamorous, one identified as having a sexual addiction, one described engaging in coercive sexual practices, another described a sexual attraction to adolescent boys (see discussion in section 7.3 on this issue), and many described engaging in extra-marital sex. For example:

I've done heaps of stuff, sexually to try and find out what [feels right] … because you don’t get that natural progression … that’s taken from you from those, you know, initial, first [abusive experiences]. (Steve)

For three participants, sexual experimentation was related to confusion surrounding intimacy and how to experience closeness and affection, which were often not found in existing relationships, or were difficult to attain due to discomfort about being emotionally open with partners (see also section 5.2.2). Casual sexual behaviours (e.g. paying for or being paid for sex with strangers) provided a means to experience intimacy in an environment in which some participants felt free to attempt emotional closeness, since attempting it with people who were important to them involved the risk of losing them. For example:

I had a [sexual] addiction. It started a bit when I was married, I had trouble with a normal relationship … I started to see prostitutes… the raw sex to me wasn’t terribly important … I always paid for the hour, and sometimes I couldn’t even have sex … then we could sort of lie back and chat. And there was a little bit of the touching and the feeling, which I struggled with a little bit in my own relationships, and yet it was a little bit easier with people who didn’t know me. (Ruben)

For some participants, prolonged sexual experimentation comprised a form of “self- abuse”. This experimentation was often related to their first abusive experiences, since some participants specifically looked for sexual situations in which they would be the

160 subordinate partner, while others experimented with acts similar to their abuse to determine if they were interested in them when they were consensual.

Some of the things I've done, I'm like, ‘Are you enjoying this?’ … Like that form of self-abuse, it’s like, I'm doing this just to go through the motions to see if it feels right. And, you know, just leaving thinking, ‘Fucking hell, I've not got my answer there.’ … I can laugh now, but at the times when you're doing these things, you're like, well what does feel right? (Steve).

I was looking for people who would dominate me. Because that’s certainly what these guys were doing when I was selling myself. They were basically abusing me, weren’t they? (Adrian).

Although sexual experimentation is common among men (e.g. de Visser et al., 2014a; de Visser et al., 2014b; Grulich et al., 2014; Richters et al., 2014a; Richters et al., 2014b; Rissel et al., 2014), many participants attributed their sexual experimentation (which included various partners of both sexes) to their CSA experiences since their abuse created confusion about their sexual identity.

Broader social context. Finally, various social institutions affected participants’ understandings of their sexuality. For some, the social context at the time of the abuse created ambiguity about the acceptability of adult-child sex (n=5). For example, Ruben said:

We’d go and visit a property … The [people who owned the property] saw the scenario where I was 14 or 15, travelling with this gentleman … I mean if somebody did this to me now I’d be on the phone to the police in a heartbeat! But nobody ever said anything. No one did anything. It was just like it was treated as normal.

For others, broader social influences at the time, such as the church or school, highlighted the abnormality of sexual behaviours between adults and children (n=4):

The Catholic church would talk about all this fire and brimstone stuff, sin and you're going to hell. (Larry).

161 When I was becoming an adolescent myself, and doing sex education in high school, and understanding that that wasn’t normal … that was the point that I, you know, stopped [the abuse]. So I knew when I started to learn what was normal behaviour … and about sexuality. (Evan).

During young adulthood, understandings of sexuality were often influenced by broader social norms and media representations, which further reframed participants’ understandings of their CSA experiences in the context of socially acceptable sexual behaviours. For example, Ruben explained:

I'm 22, he’s 19 years older than me, and at that stage I suppose there’s some perceived legitimacy in this, because he’s an older man, he’s in his early twenties … they're a homosexual couple ... That’s what people obviously might’ve thought … I’d lost my identity, I didn’t know who I was.

Overall, most participants’ sexual development was heavily influenced by their experiences of CSA, and this influence extended well into adulthood when the meanings they attached to sexual experiences were often related to their early experiences of abuse. Understandings of their abuse and of socially acceptable sexualities were continually developed throughout participants’ lives under the influence of family, peers, sexual partners, sexual experiences, and broader social institutions. Participants actively engaged in developing their own sexual identities, often through sexual experimentation, which further shaped their understandings of their sexual identity. This is discussed in more detail in the following section.

5.2.2 Sexuality and Intimacy The importance, and experience, of intimacy varied substantially for participants. For some, sex and intimacy were inextricably linked, while for others sex and intimacy were completely unrelated. For example:

I crave intimacy, and can’t get much … I like depth, closeness, intimacy. When I have a girlfriend I know everything about her and usually understand her better than she knows herself … Except for two or three times with [my first wife] … [sex] was like masturbating, and there was no intimacy. (Sabai).

Sex was an object rather than an experience. There was objective physical pleasure but no emotional connection. (Larry).

162 For some participants, confusion about the role of intimacy in sexual relationships meant that intimacy was sought in preference to sex in some circumstances and sex was sought when desiring intimacy in other circumstances (n=4). This often arose when participants could not find both intimacy and sexual satisfaction with one partner, which led to sexual experimentation with multiple partners.

I’d love the intimacy with a woman, but then sometimes the sex … I would just lose my erection and stuff, and I couldn’t work out what was going on … having one-night stands wasn’t the way to go. (Steve).

When I was 18, 19, I went through a phase of probably degrading homosexual sex … That must be the abuse. There I was thinking I was looking for love, but I didn’t know what it was. And so I wasn’t, I was looking for sex, thinking that that’s what love must be … I just couldn’t get anything in the way of companionship. (Adrian).

Enduring issues with emotional closeness created significant problems for experiencing intimacy in sexual relationships for most participants (n=9). This often stemmed from CSA experiences that emphasised secret-keeping during the grooming process (see section 5.1.3). Secrecy was considered by several participants to be detrimental to their ability to form healthy sexual relationships, and many commented on their likelihood to “push people away” when they became too close (n=7).

When people get too close to me, I push them away. I did that with my wife, and I regret that. But it’s happened a few times. I just can’t deal with closeness in a relationship … I lost my adolescence … the things that I find difficulty with in relationships and intimacy and empathy, are all part of that period where those things are formed that I never had. (Ruben).

It’s been 15 odd years now since I've had a relationship … it’s difficult growing up with a secret, I think that was probably the most damaging thing … I think to go into a relationship without disclosing those kinds of things is setting it up for a failure. (Evan).

[Relationships] are not possible … no … the trust, and intimacy is uncomfortable, it’s really hard. (Stuart).

163 Participants revealed changes in their views and understandings of the role of intimacy in sexual relationships throughout the lifecourse. For example, although many participants placed a great deal of emphasis on the importance of intimacy in sexual relationships at the time of the interview (when participants were, on average, aged in their 50s), earlier sexual experiences demonstrated an avoidance of intimacy, and a conscious separation of intimacy and sexuality (n=8).

I'm at a stage in my life where … I don’t just want a one-night stand or anything like that, I want more than that … maybe even for me, just bring sex out of the equation, and like just be in each other’s arms … in the past, sex is probably the first thing that I've done. And then you do so much of that that it doesn’t mean anything. (Steve).

I kept starting these relationships with people that weren’t ... gay or likely to be capable of falling in love with me … I don’t know if I would’ve done that without the abuse. I suspect not … I [still] have desires, but they’re sexual urges … this companionship, love, attention … I got that [with my wife], I've never had it anywhere else. (Adrian).

In sum, participants spoke of confusion surrounding the need for emotional closeness and the need for sex (n=4). This was more common in accounts of sexuality during early adulthood, where relationships were often described in sexual terms. During later adulthood and at the time of the interview, there was evidence of a greater focus on intimacy in sexual relationships for many. However, for most participants, an inability to emotionally engage with romantic partners resulted in unsuccessful relationships (n=9) or an avoidance of intimacy in romantic relationships (n=8), for others, this resulted in enduring needs to seek sex and/or intimacy with multiple partners, particularly partners who would not get too emotionally close (e.g. extra-marital sex, casual sex, sex workers) (n=5), avoidance of romantic relationships entirely (n=2), and a clear distinction between sex and intimacy (n=1).

5.2.3 Summary Qualitative analysis revealed that most of this sample of non-offenders engaged in a range of sexual behaviours and experiences, but did not view their sexuality as “integral to normative masculinity” (Thompson & Barnes, 2012, p.271; Connell, 1995; Levant, 1997). Rather, most spoke of significant issues with sexuality, from confusion

164 surrounding sexual orientation to problems with sexual performance, which meant that their constructions of masculinity rarely emphasised traditional masculine sexual practices, such as initiating sexual encounters, being sexually skilled and knowledgeable, or always being ready for sex (Sakaluk et al., 2014). The complex experiences participants had with intimacy in sexual relationships revealed that intimacy created anxiety and discomfort throughout the lifecourse and only became important in later adulthood. These experiences suggest that sexuality was a site for experiencing powerlessness, sometimes in the form of passivity, and/or reinforcing the powerlessness experienced as a child. Some, such as Steve, used sexual experiences to regain a sense of control, although this control did not involve the domination or use of power over others.

5.3 Relationships

Since all theories of the cycle of CSA place varying degrees of importance on the role of CSA on victims’ relationships with others throughout their lives, this section considers the significant and influential relationships that participants had with others from childhood through adulthood.

5.3.1 Contexts of Relationships Family context. Seven participants in this sample described family contexts characterised by varying degrees of isolation from parental supervision or support. Only one participant experienced a close and loving relationship with his father, while more than half described their relationships with their fathers as either distant (i.e. absent or emotionally unavailable fathers) (n=4) or “tough” (i.e. authoritarian or abusive fathers) (n=2). In some cases, participants experienced distance from biological fathers and tough relationships with stepfathers (n=3). Participants described feelings of inadequacy and powerlessness within these relationships due to an inability to achieve the attention and acceptance they desired from their fathers.

My father was not one who could show feelings and emotions very well ... acceptance was important from my dad. And I didn’t get it. (Ruben)

I [felt like] … my father didn’t have anything to do with me because I was a lesser person, and overall, I just don’t fit. I'm not the stereotypical male. (Larry)

165 Many participants also reported difficult relationships with their mothers (n=6), who were sometimes described as being the more dominant parent (n=3) or as putting their own needs before the needs of their children (n=3).

[The] family … was very much run by my mother … she was pretty domineering. (Adrian)

[My mother] placed all of her wants and needs in front of us [Benjamin and his brother]. (Benjamin)

Six participants experienced separation from one or both parents at some point during their childhood as a result of divorce, or in one case, due to neglect which resulted in TML being taken into institutional care at the age of 5:

When I was around five years old I was taken to … court, to be charged as a neglected child. For some reason if your parents couldn’t take care of you, you got charged [laughs]. So when I was five I got taken from my father because my mother had left, and I haven’t seen her since. (TML)

For some participants, the lack of support experienced during childhood because of parental separation, absence or neglect was described as having a significant emotional impact (n=6), with three suggesting that it was as traumatic as being sexually abused:

The lack of family as a child is as devastating as the abuse for me. (TML)

Other men say the same thing, they don’t know where the family dynamics ends and the abuse begins … I now realise that it … was quite significant … if I could’ve had some help earlier in life, things might have been a lot different. (Larry)

Most participants did not blame their abuse on their lack of parental supervision or support (n=7) although three participants placed a certain degree of responsibility for their abuse on one or both of their parents (n=3). For example, Benjamin said:

Whether that’s deserved or not I probably place a lot of the blame [for the abuse] at her [mother’s] feet … if it’s a big long chain of causal events, essentially her selfishness is why I ended up in that position [at the school where he was abused by a teacher].

166 Some participants believed that their parents should have noticed the “obvious signs” of sexual abuse (n=5), such as changes in mood or behaviour after onset, returning home in different clothes than those they left in, or from the interactions between participants’ parents and abusers that clearly indicated the abuser’s sexual interests. Others described their parents as loving and supportive, but naïve about sexual abuse. For example, two described strong support from their (non-offending) parents following early disclosure of their abuse during their mid-late teens (see section 5.1.5).

For most participants, however, the family was not an environment in which close bonds were formed, even though in some family contexts, certain (usually religious) values and morals were instilled from a young age. Only two participants experienced familial environments characterised by strong emotional support, which facilitated early disclosure of abuse.

Peers. Almost all participants attended boys’ schools, where boys who were “different” based on race, ethnicity, class, or sexuality were subject to social practices that emphasised their difference:

At the high school in those days, it’s the 50’s, they'd ask your name, and it’d be [Ruben Smit] and there’d be a bit of a snigger in the class. And then they’d say, ‘What religion are you?’ ‘Dutch Reformed Church’, and then there’d be another snigger … You stood out because you were different. (Ruben)

Country schools aren’t really that accepting of different people … I was kind of ostracised a bit in high school, [for] being a bit different. (Evan)

Six participants described themselves as being isolated during their adolescent years, especially after experiencing CSA, for example:

I didn’t have any friends … I had one or two acquaintances, I wouldn’t call them friends. (Larry)

It was stepfather’s decision [to attend a Catholic high school] … I begged not to go because I didn’t know anyone who was going there ... that was an alienating, bizarre experience, and it didn’t add to my sense of fitting in anywhere. (Benjamin)

167 After we’d moved when I was 14, I was in the new environment, had to make new friends, was still pretty low on self-esteem, having been bullied … so, it wasn’t easy to find friends. (Adrian)

Some participants described developing friendships during school (n=4), and this was often achieved by adopting personas that would be accepted by others, such as the “class clown”:

All through school I was the joker, I’d mess around, I’d do anything for a laugh. (Steve)

I was the class clown, that was partly like a self-esteem, attention thing. (Sabai)

Boys who performed dominant forms of masculinity became the “cool” kids who exemplified the types of masculinity other boys should mimic, for example Evan who identified as homosexual, said:

Once I, you know, got into the “cool group” … I used to date the pretty girls... I guess I learnt how to behave and how to react and how to be. To try and fit in. (Evan)

Peer interactions during adulthood often mirrored participants’ experiences during childhood, with few describing significant social networks or close peer relationships (n=2). Often this was related to an inability to let people get too close to them emotionally, and to fears that others would discover that they had been sexually abused (which, in their minds, meant being judged negatively). For those who developed close friendships during childhood and adolescence, changing life circumstances often meant that these friendships waned. Some participants clearly identified feelings of loneliness as described below:

All my life I've felt alone, I still feel alone to a large extent … I don’t have many friends. (Sabai)

I've always been a bit of a loner. I'm still a loner … I shut myself off quite a bit. (Adrian)

168 I don’t have any family, support, so it would be nice … to have somebody I can talk to. (Stuart)

In that [institutional care home] environment ... I ended up crying for the entire day … I felt completely and utterly alone … I certainly don’t have friends. (TML)

Although most participants described having few relationships with other men, peers were nonetheless highly influential on participants’ understandings of culturally acceptable masculine social practices throughout their lives.

I would be standing there with the other men at the bar, listening to them describing their lives, their relationship with women … work … leisure … and they all had great similarities. They were all about satisfying your own needs at the expense of others, you know, fast cars, and accumulation of goods … so that’s where the culture stemmed from. (Larry)

For seven participants, peer reinforcement of acceptable masculine social practices coupled with abuse experiences resulted in enduring feelings of being “different” to their male peers.

If I look at other men, I'm very different to them ... I think it’s part of the male culture … I don’t fit with your culture if I've been abused as a child … you won’t accept me as an equal … I'm different because he [abuser] picked on me because he saw something in me that was lesser than other people, and that I was vulnerable. (Larry)

There's a quote by Quentin Crisp … ‘I will always feel like a resident alien in this world.’ … That’s how I've always felt, I've always felt like an alien, like I'm a bit different, like I don’t quite fit in. (Steve)

Some also identified being intimidated by other men, which led to feelings of inadequacy and difficulties with developing male relationships.

I've always had some self-esteem issues with my peers. (Ruben).

169 There's an element of being scared of men, intimidated … I'm not a ‘man’, so a lot of men with a new guy, it’s like the pecking order, they've got to find out where they are, so they’ll put me down. (Sabai).

I do struggle to get close friendships ... particularly with males, I have a distrust, that’s never going to change. (Steve).

Overall, few participants described developing close relationships with other boys and men during childhood or adulthood. In addition to being isolated from their male peers, participants said that their feelings of difference and inadequacy were exacerbated by other men’s masculine social practices.

5.3.2 Rejection, Disappointment, and Vulnerability Feelings of rejection, disappointment and vulnerability were central to participants’ accounts of their relationships with others throughout their lives.

Rejection and Disappointment. All participants experienced rejections or perceived rejections (e.g. disappointments), throughout their lives. For some, this was reflected in their accounts of unsuccessful marriages and romantic relationships (n=6). They attributed these rejections to their CSA experience, such as the secret-keeping emphasised by their abusers which led to an inability to be emotionally open in relationships; their grooming experiences which instilled a sense of shame or guilt; or to their “status” as victims of abuse resulting in difficulties finding partners.

There's no doubt in my mind that what had happened to me, and the way I had related, the way I felt guilty, that that was a very material factor in my marriage breaking down. (Ruben)

I understand that some women might be put off by someone who’s been abused, maybe because of the stigma, maybe because they don’t want somebody who might have some issues … nobody likes getting rejected. (Steve)

Rejections also related to peers and family. While experiences of rejection or disappointment sometimes represented broad themes throughout participants’ lives, some described very specific examples of being rejected by peers and family, and the resulting feelings of disappointment, loneliness and vulnerability, for example:

170 When I disclosed the sexual abuse … the family just turned their back on me, and I had to leave home … it’s such a traumatic event that I simply couldn’t hold down a job … then it was just like a cycle, I would lose my job because I’d used all my sick leave, and then I couldn’t afford to pay the rent, so I’d get kicked out and I’d be on the streets again. (Stuart)

Vulnerability. Few participants were comfortable with being vulnerable in relationships with others, which led to an inability to become emotionally close to, or disclose their abuse to, others (n=9). For example, Steve described having trouble feeling vulnerable in relationships due to having been sexually abused, but simultaneously described wanting to share his “vulnerable side” with a romantic partner.

Participants also reflected on specific kinds of experiences in which they felt vulnerable, including when they experienced a lack of control over themselves or their environment (n=4); within relationships with their mothers (n=4) or fathers (n=9); as a result of experiences of loss (e.g. partners, children, employment) (n=5); as a result of issues surrounding sexuality (n=3); and within peer relationships (especially when they felt they would be judged) (n=6). For example, Adrian described his feelings of worthlessness when he had no control in his work:

In two situations, I can have just as much work to do, but in the one case I can decide what I do, that’s fine, I can work a lot … But if I'm in a situation where there's just as much work to do, but I'm being told what to do, and by outside forces, that almost makes me panic. And that’s the abuse … you’ve had no choice … you are worth nothing, you're doing what you're told. (Adrian)

Similarly, Even felt his CSA experience would be considered a weakness:

I feel as though, it’s [CSA] been seen in my situation, as a weakness … there's a chink, or there's something wrong with me because this happened. In my experience, once certain people in certain positions know certain things, then there's a judgement that’s made … that’s been quite difficult. (Evan)

Participants’ responses to such feelings varied according to circumstance, context, and age, but commonly involved withdrawal from social contact as a means of protecting themselves (n=6).

171 When I don’t fit … there's something within, I feel that they’re going to reject me, so I try to get out before they actually throw me out. (Larry)

I started to withdraw … I had about four or five mates that I used to go and have a beer with after lectures, but I would never stay. I would always pull myself out. (Ruben)

Others focused on elements in their environments that they could control as a means of alleviating feelings of vulnerability and re-asserting their strength and self-worth (n=4). In many cases, these behaviours were adopted as a means to prevent, rather than respond to, such feelings.

There are dents in your self-esteem as a person. And so Ruben probably has had to be tougher than he really needed to be. And I think I was tougher with my kids, and I've been tougher in … relationships. (Ruben)

Five participants engaged in self-destructive behaviours, such as risk taking, excessive drinking, or self-abuse when confronted with experiences of vulnerability or disappointment. For example:

On the surface it was fine, but … I would hit myself, and physically assault myself with sticks and bars … it became more intense because I really wasn’t coping very well with life, because … there was a mismatch between … expectations about what should’ve happened, and what I was actually doing. (Larry)

I was abusing myself … a lot of one-night stands, a lot of partying … all that stuff wasn't me, I'm quite introverted. (Steve)

For all participants, experiences of vulnerability, disappointment and rejection were common throughout the lifecourse. Most of these experiences stemmed from their relationships with others, but they were often related to inherent feelings of vulnerability as a result of being sexually abused. Participants approached such feelings in three main ways: withdrawal, maintaining control over their environment, or self-destructive behaviours.

172 5.3.3 Powerlessness and Power Participants revealed various experiences of powerlessness and power throughout their lives, with peer relationships being central to these experiences. Their accounts often involved comparisons of themselves to other boys and men, which appeared to allow them to measure their worth against various masculine ideals. In other words, participants often evaluated their “manliness” with reference to the masculine performances of their peers. During adolescence, other boys’ bodies were central to participants’ experiences of powerlessness:

I was a small kid, I was not athletic, I was the runt of the litter, the one who would be picked on, the one who would not be able to do things. (TML).

I … was … one of the weakest, sickliest, and I got a shock the first time I went to the school … I remember thinking ‘These guys are enormous!’ They seemed to be much wilder, and bigger than the kids I’d just left behind … so it wasn’t easy to find friends. (Adrian).

There were some kids who would have been 18 months older than me in the same year. And they’d tower over me, and seemed like men [laughs] … I was very self-conscious of that. Especially being on the swim team, and having communal showers. (Benjamin).

While other men’s bodies were still referenced by some as sources of experiences of powerlessness during adulthood (n=2), it was other men’s constructions of masculinity around wealth, sports, drinking, or toughness that were more often referenced. In many cases, participants felt different to their peers, or unable to live up to the cultural expectations of masculine activities.

When we [moved], my ambitions were to … join a golf club, join a service group, maybe get involved in some sort of other male activity. But they weren’t to establish a viable family, to create a nurturing environment … I had very much a strong orientation to this cultural stuff, because somehow I thought that, if I achieve these cultural goals … I’ll really, finally, be a male ... But I wasn’t meeting those expectations. (Larry)

I was a young father, and I would take my first [child to] … a birthday party … and everyone is at least 10 years older than me, and they’d want to talk about golf

173 and insurance … beer … football. It was like, sports, ball, beer what are you talking about? (Benjamin)

Engaging in social practices that were valued by masculine peer groups, such as sport, work, drinking, aggression or control, were sources of both power and powerlessness for participants during adolescence and adulthood. Success in these practices provided a means of proving competence, strength and masculinity, while failing signified weakness and incompetence which were met with derision from peers.

Sport. Powerlessness was experienced by the inability to be successful in sport and other physical activities, as well as subsequent ridicule and judgement from peers.

They had a group of kids come to the boys’ institution and told us we were going to do boxing, and we didn’t know how to box, and essentially I got ridiculed for crying. (TML)

I desperately wanted to be good at sports, and to have some kind of recognition for doing things and I couldn’t get that. Because I’d keep having these sort of dizzy spells, and they’d all just think I was wimping out … and they would pick on me for that: constant insults, and also physical bullying. (Adrian)

During adolescence, success in sports provided some participants with social power in the form of respect or esteem from their peers.

[Joining the swim team] kind of brought a little bit of … respect or something from the other kids … it made things a little bit easier. (Benjamin)

By me doing things … physically, even playing on the footy field, it gives you a [good] reputation. (David)

In adulthood, sport was a site in which some participants could accomplish masculinity and experience power (n=3). For example, Adrian constructed his masculinity around pushing his previously “weak and sickly” body to its limits through running. Success in sports allowed him to experience a sense of social power using an activity that had previously represented a source of powerlessness during childhood. Likewise, Steve felt inadequate around peers except for on the sports field. He constructed a tough, strong,

174 capable masculine identity through success and competence in team sports, where he felt comfortable “telling people what to do”:

I think I have [felt uncomfortable around other men] in the past, but not playing sports … I'm pretty confident on the sports field … I’ll take charge there. (Steve).

Employment. Although many participants were successful in their careers (n=8), relationships with men in work contexts were also sites of powerlessness (n=9). Participants described consistent underlying fears that other men would reveal participants’ inadequacies or “incompetence” in the workplace, particularly other men who enjoyed more power than they did within their work environment (e.g. those in higher positions).

If someone new came to a position, new principals could be the worst … I would feel immediately threatened, because they will find out that … I can’t do this very well. (Larry).

However, success in work by becoming a “workaholic”, having a “good work ethic” or being “tough and hard-hitting” became central to several participants’ feelings of self- worth (n=6), and experiences of power. For example:

I became a workaholic …. if you do lots of work at something then you tend to become very good at it. And so that achievement at work has stabilised my life. (Adrian).

I have a good work ethic. I'm very hard working and try to be proactive …I get annoyed with people who are lazy … I'm not afraid to pull somebody up. (Steve).

From a professional perspective I'm a tough nut. I negotiate hard, I litigate hard, I go in strong. So, professionally, that’s been my nature … People … would say, you know, ‘He doesn’t tolerate people too easily’ … People started to show me that they really thought I was very good at what I did, and that certainly helped me a lot. (Ruben).

Aggression. Most participants did not describe many experiences of violence or aggression during their lives in relation to their peers. For those who did, situations with peers that involved aggression or the threat of violence led to experiences of anxiety,

175 upset and powerlessness (n=4), since most described feeling like the less powerful person in the encounter. For example:

I was thinking of a guy who’s ultra-aggressive, he’s a “man” [uses deep voice], you know? And for no good reason he was verbally aggressive to me ... when someone’s aggressive, it’s like a wave, it’s like fear, emotion, adrenalin, everything washes over me ... I'm shit scared of them … I've never had a fight. (Sabai).

Unlike all other participants, David’s masculine social practices involved violence and aggression from an early age. Being able to withstand and inflict physical pain allowed David to prove his masculine status through the demonstration of mental and physical strength within a social context that valorised these performances:

As a child I had no control … I was doing boxing … when I was at school … because I just used to be bullied … It is a male thing. It’s male domination, it’s superiority, authority ... I think it characterises the environment I grew up in, my mates, my family … doing things violently and physically … it gives you a reputation … [but] it’s a target. It only lasts so long before someone comes along who will be a lot better than you … the more challenge that I had in my younger days, and the more I won, the more power … it’s power of the mind, it’s power of the body, it’s power of the spirit. (David).

Control of Self and the Environment. All participants described the lack of control they experienced during their abuse, and most attributed the development of controlling behaviours in adulthood to their powerlessness during childhood. For some, this involved controlling their emotions to perform tough or “stoic” masculinities (n=2):

I would be terrified if I disclosed any emotion that was not controlled. Because that shows that I'm vulnerable, that shows that I'm not an adequate male. (Larry)

Others exercised control over their families, since the family represented an immediate environment in which they could gain a sense of control and power, particularly over the safety of their children (n=4). For example:

I have always had issues with control. Over every aspect of my life. I need to be fully self-sufficient in all areas, and have trouble accepting help or even admitting

176 that I need help ... It's directly related to having little to no control over what was happening to me when I was a boy … I am proud of the … safe environment that I’ve created for my children. (Benjamin).

Still others felt in control when fighting injustices and standing up for what is “right” (n=8), which was often achieved in the context of prosecuting their abusers:

On principle, I will sometimes do certain things, I’ll fight something that’s wrong … It’s definitely the child in me being vocal. (TML)

Overall, qualitative analysis revealed that participants’ lives were characterised by experiences of both powerlessness and power. Experiences of powerlessness during their abuse was often linked to participants’ need for control in adulthood, while for many, feelings of difference or inadequacy around male peers resulted in in a range of behaviours that allowed participants to experience power in relation to other men.

5.4 Summary of Findings

The analysis in this Chapter has revealed the complexity and diversity of male CSA victims’ experiences. Despite the breadth of participants’ experiences, several patterns emerged in relation to their abuse experiences, understandings of sexuality and relationships with others that contribute new understandings to the literature on men’s experiences of CSA.

Characteristics and experiences of CSA. While previous research identified that abuse at 12 years of age or older was implicated in the transition from victim to offender, only half the participants in this non-offending sample experienced abuse over this age. Participants’ accounts revealed that it may be important to consider a child’s sexual developmental at the time of their abuse when considering how they understand and make sense of their abuse.

Several other factors in participants’ experiences of abuse contrasted with previous literature, including the duration, frequency, and severity of abuse. The extant literature commonly associates these factors with subsequent child sex offending (Plummer & Cossins, 2016), yet all participants in this sample experienced significant durations of abuse and almost all experienced severe abuse. Recruiting the sample through treatment providers may have impacted this finding, since those with severe abuse

177 experiences may be more likely to seek treatment to address their abusive histories. Nonetheless, the relative impact of abuse frequency and severity will be reconsidered in Chapter 6, when offending participants’ experiences of abuse are explored.

Further, based on the extant literature it was proposed in Chapter 2 that close or dependent victim-offender relationships would be implicated in the cycle of CSA. However, many participants described the development of a close and/or dependent relationship with their abusers throughout the grooming process. While the impacts of grooming have rarely been addressed from victims’ perspectives, analysing the experiences of an adult sample, rather than a child sample, revealed tentative evidence for both immediate and enduring impacts of grooming.

Participants’ experiences of grooming largely reflected those described in previous literature, although there were distinct differences between extra- and intra-familial participants’ experiences that have not been adequately explored in past research. Extra-familial participants’ limited experiences of gradual sexual desensitisation contrasted with intra-familial participants’ experiences of more aggressive approaches to enforce compliance, a finding that suggests there is a need for further research into the different grooming strategies used by child sex offenders with related and non-related children.

Contrary to previous research, participants’ accounts also suggested that there may not be a distinct difference between grooming behaviours pre- and post-abuse as suggested by Craven et al. (2006). Rather, the difference appeared to be in how participants experienced often quite similar behaviours pre- and post-abuse. Prior to abuse onset, participants generally reported positive perceptions (often related to the offender fulfilling unmet needs), while negative perceptions were associated with these behaviours post- abuse (often involving feelings of entrapment, responsibility for the abuse, shame).

Participants’ experiences of disclosure were multifaceted, involving lengthy delays and numerous barriers. Disclosures were made to various people, and while most experienced some negative reactions to their disclosure, all participants received positive reactions that facilitated their subsequent treatment. While positive responses to disclosure and subsequent treatment may be protective factors in the transition from victim to offender, since these participants delayed their disclosure and did not become offenders, it is not possible to determine from this sample whether these factors are significant for the cycle of CSA.

178 Sexuality. Participants’ sexual development was influenced by their experiences of CSA. This influence extended into adulthood when the meanings that participants attached to sexual experiences were often related to their early experiences of abuse. Participants’ continually developed their understandings of sexuality throughout their lives under the influence of family, peers, sexual partners and broader social institutions. Sexual experimentation was common, though many participants attributed such behaviours to their abuse and the resulting confusion surrounding sexual identity and the role of intimacy. While early relationships were focused on sex, intimacy became more important for participants later in life.

Overall, their accounts revealed that sexuality was a site for continued experiences of powerlessness and vulnerability throughout their lives, evidenced by unsuccessful relationships, confusion surrounding sexual identity, avoidance of intimacy, emotionally distant relationships, sexual dysfunction, and avoidance of romantic relationships entirely.

Relationships. Few participants described family environments that were characterised by emotional closeness, love or support. Most also described experiences of isolation from peers during childhood that often extended into adulthood. Loneliness and feelings of inadequacy and being different in relation to peers was common, with many participants’ issues with relationships stemming from innate feelings of vulnerability and powerlessness as a result of being sexually abused.

Participants dealt with such feelings in three main ways: withdrawal, control over their environment, and self-abuse. These behaviours served to protect them from potential rejections or feelings of vulnerability, and allowed them to reclaim some of the control they had lost as children. Because both power and powerlessness were common experiences throughout the lives of all participants, they engaged in a range of behaviours in that allowed them to be in control and to construct certain types of masculinities that gave them social status (e.g. success in work, physical strength, self- control).

The next chapter will report the findings from a qualitative analysis of the experiences of participants who were sexually abused as children and who became child sex offenders in adolescence or adulthood.

179 Chapter 6: The Lived Experiences of Offending Victims

This Chapter outlines the key findings from a qualitative analysis of eight offending victims’ narratives. Findings are discussed with reference to the themes that arose from non-offenders’ accounts in the previous chapter, as well as new themes that emerged from offenders’ narratives. Participants’ accounts are discussed using the pseudonyms they chose (see Table 6.1 for demographic information for this group).

Table 6.1 Demographic Information: Offenders (n=8) Pseudonym Age Marital Children Occupation Background Status Butch 57 Separated 4 Greenkeeper Australian Joe 70 Divorced 4 Disability Pensioner Australian (formerly hospitality industry) John 57 Separated 4 Software Engineer Australian Robert 60 Separated 3 Writer and Marketer South African/ Australian Tom 65 Single 0 Disability Pensioner Australian (formerly various jobs) Peter 68 Married 2 (step) Retired Postal Service British/Australian worker Andrew 31 Single 0 Retail Australian Bob 69 Separated 2 Retired Engineer American/Australian

6.1 Characteristics and Experiences of Abuse

As discussed in Chapter 2 and Chapter 5, previous research suggests that certain characteristics of CSA may affect the development of sexually abusive behaviours (Plummer & Cossins, 2016). Like Chapter 5, one of the aims of this chapter is to determine the extent to which offenders’ narratives reveal any of these characteristics, by examining the relevant abuse characteristics and experiences as reported in participants’ interviews: x Age at abuse onset (section 6.1.1); x Duration and frequency of abuse (section 6.1.1); x Relationship to abuser (section 6.1.2); x Abuser gender (section 6.1.2); 180 x Grooming experiences (section 6.1.3); x Abuse severity (section 6.1.4); x Experiences of disclosure (section 6.1.5).

Additionally, this chapter examines offenders’ experiences of perpetrating CSA with reference to the above CSA characteristics (section 6.4). Although the overarching aim of this thesis is to examine the cycle of CSA specifically rather than child sex offending more broadly, how offenders recount, explain and justify their offending may contribute to explanations of why some men perpetuate a cycle of CSA while others do not.

6.1.1 Age at Abuse Onset, Duration and Frequency of Abuse Age at onset. Similar to the experiences of non-offenders, the ages at which participants first experienced abuse did not consistently fit the pattern described in past research, that is, that abuse at 12 years of age or older is implicated in the transition from victim to offender (Ogloff et al., 2012). Just as five out of ten non-offenders first experienced abuse at age 12 or over, five out of eight offenders first experienced abuse under the age of 12 (as shown in Table 6.2). For those who experienced abuse by more than one offender, the onset of the second abuse was 12 years of age (n=3). The average age at abuse onset (considered to be a participants’ first experience of CSA) was 9.4 years (median, 8 years).

Table 6.2 Age at Onset & Cessation; Duration and Frequency of CSA: Offenders (n=8) Participant Age at Onset Age at Cessation Duration in Years CSA Frequency Butch 7 7 <1 Abuser 1: 1 incident 12 12 <1 Abuser 2: 1 incident Joe 14 14 <1 Abusers 1-6: 1 incident John 13 13 <1 2 incidents Robert 15 15 <1 1 incident Tom 9 9 <1 Abuser 1: 1 incident 12 16 4 Multiple Abusers: daily Peter 10 10 <1 Abuser 1: several 12 12 <1 incidents Abuser 2: 1 incident Andrew 5 5 <1 2-3 incidents

181 Bob 5 5 <1 Could not recall Average 9.4* 11.5** 0.9*** Median 8 12.5 1 *Average calculated based on first incident of CSA if the participant experienced abuse by more than one abuser. ** Average calculated based on last incident of CSA if the participant experienced abuse by more than one abuser. *** Average calculated excluding isolated incidents of abuse.

It was suggested in Chapter 5 that a victim’s sexual development may impact their understandings of their experiences. The three offenders who were abused over the age of 12 described understanding the sexual nature of their abuse. In addition, three offenders described having greater sexual awareness when they experienced a second onset of abuse at 12 years of age. This awareness appeared to impact these participants’ understandings of their second experience of abuse, but also of their first experience of abuse that occurred under the age of 10. For example, Butch’s abuse at 12 years of age provided new insights into his experience of abuse at 7 years of age, while also drawing attention to other childhood experiences that he came to understand as both sexual and abusive. Understanding the sexual component of the abuse led to feelings of shame and understandings of his own sexuality:

I remember when I was 12 and Richard had abused me, I thought, ‘I’m a poofter,’ you know, and I felt really bad. But also being in the city once and a guy’s flashed at us in the toilets at [the] station when we were pretty young… pubescent boys are affected more by sexual abuse … because I know [when I was abused] at 7 I just put it out of my mind. (Butch)

Since half the non-offenders were first abused over the age of 12, and 5 out of 8 offenders were first abused under the age of 12, the actual age at abuse onset does not provide an indication of why only the offending participants in this study became child sex offenders. However, participants’ narratives largely support Ogloff et al.’s (2012) proposition that the degree of psychosexual development or awareness at the time of abuse may be implicated in the cycle of CSA, since all non-offenders described being sexually unaware at the time of their abuse, while 6 out of 8 offenders described being sexually aware (three offenders who were abused over the age of 12, three who experienced a second onset of abuse at 12 years). It is possible that a greater degree of sexual awareness at the onset of abuse may impact the transition from victim to offender. For these boys, the sexual elements of the abuse may take a more prominent place in their understandings of their experiences (Azad & Leander, 2015; Cossins & Plummer,

182 2016; Feiring, Taska & Lewis, 1999; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Ogloff et al., 2012; Roller et al., 2009). For example, John was abused at 13 years of age and described himself as “curious” about his abuser’s behaviour. John’s concerns about his sexuality following the abuse indicated that he understood the abuse to be sexual:

I was really curious. Because the boys had told me that he’s always asking questions about if you're having problems with masturbation and stuff like that … It didn't feel bad. I wondered if I was a poof. (John)

Like John, Peter’s awareness of the sexual nature of the abuse he experienced at 12 years of age largely developed from other boys’ warnings about his abuser’s behaviour. Understanding the abuse to be sexual resulted in Peter ending the abuse after a small number of incidents:

One of the boys used to say, ‘Come on, work for Jay!’ ‘Come on, he’ll give you a good time!’ He was about 15, the boy … He’d [abuser] done it to all of the boys, used to touch them … it was well-known … I left, I refused to work for him anymore.

Similarly, Robert was first abused at 15 years of age and understood the abuse to be sexual from the outset. His awareness of the sexual nature of the abuse resulted in feelings of confusion about his sexual response to the abuse, and subsequent feelings of complicity in the abuse. Understanding the sexual nature of the abuse also prompted him to stop the abuse during the first incident:

I was conflicted, I was uncertain, and, yes, of course… part of me… was responding, you know, ‘Am I going to get lucky here?’ … I had an erection … and I continued to respond … to this day I don't know how I managed to stop that, I just do not know how. I looked down at her, and suddenly something snapped and … the moment disappeared and I suddenly saw that this is my own mother and what I was about to do. And I said, ‘I can't’.

However, there is no current explanation in the literature about the mechanisms by which abuse at younger ages (e.g. age 5 in this sample) may lead to subsequent offending. These findings will be reconsidered in Chapter 7 with reference to other abuse characteristics, and compared to non-offending participants’ CSA experiences, to develop an understanding of the impact of victim age on subsequent offending.

183 Duration and frequency of abuse. Since past research suggests that experiencing a long duration and/or higher frequency of abuse is implicated in the transition from victim to offender (see Plummer & Cossins, 2016), it was expected that participants in this sample would report longer durations and higher frequencies of abuse. However, as shown in Table 6.2, most participants experienced single abuse incidents by one or more offenders, while only one participant experienced a longer duration of abuse for 4 years. The duration of abuse in this sample varied from less than one year to 4 years (M=0.9 years). These findings contrast with those from the sample of non-offenders, who experienced an average abuse duration of 6.5 years (median 7 years). No non-offenders reported single isolated abuse experiences.

As with the non-offending sample, determining the exact frequency of abuse was difficult, though five participants described three or less separate incidents of abuse, one described daily experiences of abuse, and one participant could not recall how many times he was abused (Table 6.2). While all the non-offenders experienced frequent abuse, only two offending participants can be described as having experienced frequent abuse.

Offending participants’ experiences of relatively low frequencies and short durations of abuse are inconsistent with past research that suggests that high frequencies and long durations of abuse are likely to be associated with subsequent child sex offending (see Plummer & Cossins, 2016). Since these abuse characteristics contrast starkly with the non-offenders’ experiences but provide little indication about why participants in this sample went on to offend, they will be considered in light of other abuse characteristics through a more detailed comparison to non-offenders’ experiences in Chapter 7.

6.1.2 Gender of Abuser and Relationship to Abuser As described in Chapter 5, previous research into boys’ CSA experiences suggests that a victim may be more likely to become an offender if the gender of his abuser influences his understandings of his CSA as non-abusive. A closer and more dependent victim- offender relationship has also been implicated in the CSA cycle (Ketring and Feinauer, 1999; Plummer & Cossins, 2016; Williams, 2008). As shown in Table 6.3, seven out of eight participants were abused by men, while one participant (Robert) was abused by his mother. While this result is consistent with previous research, the same trend is present among the non-offenders (see Table 5.3).

184 Chapter 7 will consider whether the gender of the abuser (in combination with other sociocultural and abuse-related factors) has any predictive value for determining whether a victim will perpetuate the cycle of CSA.

Table 6.3 Relationship to Abuser, and Abuser Gender: Offenders (n=8) Participant Relationship to Abuser Abuser Gender Butch Two abusers: stranger, sports coach Male Joe Multiple abusers: strangers Male John Teacher/Christian Brother Male Robert Mother Female Tom Multiple abusers: Residential care workers, older peers, Christian Male Brothers Peter Two abusers: milkman/employer, stranger Male Andrew Older peer/neighbour Male Bob Family friend, known to Bob as “uncle” Male Summary Family Members (n=1); Teachers and Priests (n=2); 7 Male: 1 Strangers (n=3); Peers (n=2); Other Known Adults (n=4) Female

Like the non-offenders, Table 6.3 shows that participants’ relationships to their abusers varied, and included teachers and priests (n=2), strangers (n=3), peers (n=2), family members (parents) (n=1) and other known adults (n=4).

As shown in Chapter 5 (section 5.1.2), three out of 10 non-offenders described having a “close” and dependent familial relationships with their abusers, but most described the development of emotionally close (n=3) or dependent (n=3) relationships with their extra- familial abusers. In this sample of offenders, only two described having an emotionally close relationships with their abusers: Robert’s intra-familial abuse involved enduring emotional ties to his mother (abuser), while Butch’s extra-familial abuser developed a close relationship with him over a period of 6 months. For both participants, these relationships prior to the abuse led to participants feeling betrayed after the abuse:

It’s the betrayal of trust I think that is just … very confronting. (Robert)

I'm with him all the time [for] probably 6 months … he really, he crushed me, that bloke. (Butch)

185 Some offending participants’ relationships with their abusers could be considered dependent, though not emotionally close, due to their reliance on their abusers for certain needs (n=3). For example, Tom depended on the residential care workers and priests in his institutional care home for food and shelter. However, unlike the non-offenders, most offending participants were abused by one or more offenders with whom they did not describe having an emotionally close or dependent relationship. For some this was the case with their only abuser (n=5), for others who experienced abuse by multiple offenders this may have related to only one of their abusers (n=3):

I saw the garbo once … only one time … [My parents] didn't even know him … and I never saw him again. (Butch)

The only time I’d see him was at marriages and funerals. Because he lived in the big city and we were 35 miles out to the west. (Bob)

These findings -- that only a minority of offending participants had a close or dependent relationship with their abusers -- are not consistent with previous research; they suggest that an emotionally close or dependent victim-abuser relationship may not necessarily be implicated in the transition from victim to offender since close and/or dependent relationships were more often found among non-offenders than offenders. To examine this in more detail, it is necessary to consider the ways in which participants came to know their abusers, how they were isolated for abuse, and how their abusers maintained secrecy in order to facilitate the abuse. Examining participants’ experiences of grooming in the next section will provide insights into the nature of the victim-offender relationship that is not emotionally close or dependent.

6.1.3 Grooming Unlike the non-offenders in Chapter 5, participants described few experiences of grooming behaviours according to the definition provided in Chapter 2:

It is possible that participants’ experiences of isolated incidents of abuse (n=6) rather than the extended durations of abuse experienced by the non-offenders meant that their

186 grooming experiences were also different. Nonetheless, qualitative analysis revealed patterns among offenders’ lived experiences of grooming, which were largely facilitated by the environment in which they were abused, and the status and authority of their abuser.

Since the participant who experienced intra-familial abuse sometimes described different experiences of grooming from those who experienced extra-familial abuse (n=7), his experiences are discussed separately when they vary from extra-familial participants’ accounts.32

Characteristics of Grooming Experiences. Like the non-offenders, some extra-familial participants reported that their abuser showed interest in them and attempted to develop a “relationship” with them through inducements, attention, affection and emotional rapport (n=4).

I’d never had an ice-cream … he bought me a Golden Gaytime … and he paid attention to me. (Butch, E).

I was in the playground, I’d been pretty glum, it was just after my father had moved out of the family home, about a month before I was sexually abused … he offered me some comfort … he’d been taking a bit of an interest in me anyway. (John, E)

Robert described more enduring behaviours in his intra-familial experience of grooming. He experienced emotional coercion by his mother/abuser, who ranged from affectionate to extremely cold, and Robert felt consistently insecure and unsure of what to expect from her.

She’d either become really aggressive, and mean, and cruel; or she’d become maudlin, and ‘Oh my darling, I love you, if you ever leave home I’ll kill myself’ … very clingy … highly demonstrative … So you never knew … which mother was going to be there. Neither were particularly pleasant. (Robert, I)

Sexual Desensitisation.

32 To differentiate intra-familial and extra-familial survivors throughout the analysis, an “I” next to a survivor’s name indicates intra-familial abuse, while an “E” indicates extra-familial abuse. 187 Since participants in this sample often experienced one or more isolated incidents of abuse rather than consistent abuse over an extended duration (n=5), a slow progression of sexual desensitisation was uncommon. Rather, the sexual component of the abuse was prominent from their initial contact with their abusers.

I got touched up at the theatre, at the cinema [by] a guy. He just sat next to me. (Peter, E, second abuser).

One of the guys started taking my shirt off, and my shorts, my undies and everything. And then he started playing with me, getting me erect … Before I knew it, there was 6 of them! 6 guys all undressed, with full-ons … Then it got to the stage where one, two … I was just gang raped. (Joe, E)

A lack of sexual desensitisation was also found among non-offenders, with only two describing a gradual sexualisation process.

Although Robert knew and lived with his abuser, his mother, throughout his childhood, he also experienced a single incident of abuse consistent with a “maternal approach” to CSA where the offender takes a “coercive, non-aggressive approach to their victim… directly approaching them to engage in a sexual relationship” (Gannon, Rose, & Ward, 2008, p. 366).

She came into my bedroom, and … she tried to have sex with me. (Robert, I)

For those who experienced more than one abusive incident (n=4), the sexualisation of the victim-abuser relationship also occurred within the first time the abuser isolated them from others (e.g. parents or friends) with the intention of abusing them. However, unlike those who experienced single incidents of abuse, there was evidence of some progression of the sexual acts participants experienced over time.

He started talking to me, asking if I had any problems with masturbation … how sometimes boys have a blockage, and it needs to be fixed … he said he could do it if I wanted to. And I let him … About three weeks later … he took me to the storeroom again ... He wanted to examine me again … he got me to stand on [the wooden bench] and he sucked my penis … then he sat me down; he said it was his turn. (John, E)

188 The first time … he wanted to play a card game and if you get this card you have to take off your shirt, and if you get this one you have to take off your pants. And obviously I kept losing … and then another time he just put his hands down my pants. (Andrew, E)

Avoiding Disclosure. Similar to the non-offenders in Chapter 5 who did not report experiencing coercion to avoid disclosure (n=6), most participants in this sample rarely described being threatened or coerced into remaining silent about their abuse (n=5). However, three participants reported experiencing coercion by their abusers to stop them from telling anyone about the abuse.

I just didn't say a word because … he said, ‘You tell anyone, I’ll kill your mother’. (Butch, E, first abuser)

I didn't want to do it, he said, ‘The terrible thing about rumours is that the more you deny them, the more they're believed. Schoolboys are such terrible gossips. The playground can be a very cruel place.’ He was threatening me. (John, E)

If anyone mentioned it to the police, boys that got caught and tried to tell the police… They [abusers] were vicious. (Tom, E)

Context of Grooming Experiences. The same three factors that the non-offenders identified in Chapter 5 were highlighted by the offenders as facilitating their abuser’s success in grooming them: (i) their own vulnerabilities; (ii) their abuser’s social position, usually one of trust, authority and power; and (iii) the broader social context in which their abuse occurred.

Participants’ personal vulnerabilities included physical attributes (e.g. being small) (n=4); lack of parental supervision or emotional vulnerability due to the absence of a parent (e.g. divorce, separation, death) (n=6); socioeconomic disadvantage (n=2); and social isolation (n=5):

They all knew who the pet was … I was small, slim with blonde hair. (Tom, E)

189 I think it was worse because my dad had just died, so I was on the back foot emotionally, I was vulnerable. (Robert, I)

I feel sure I was targeted … He knew that I was a new boy there … My father had moved out, there was no one who was going to come around and create uproar if they do stuff. (John, E)

The social status of the abuser was also mentioned by most participants as facilitating their abuse. Abusers’ authority and power within the contexts in which participants encountered them, as well as in the community more broadly, often made participants feel powerlessness to stop the abuse from occurring (n=7).

The Brothers had a lot of power over you … The culture of the place is you don’t say ‘No’ to a Brother … I was put on detention … and that was unusual because usually Brothers gave you the cane ... He kept me back about 15-20 minutes … the school was pretty much deserted when I got out. I walked downstairs, and [my abuser] was in a storeroom where they kept sporting equipment, and he called out and asked me to give him a hand. (John, E)

I was there [isolated on a ship], I was intimidated, I was encouraged to fulfil the obligation [engaging in sexual acts with foreign sailors]. (Joe, E)

Participants described social contexts at the time of the abuse that were often characterised by societal attitudes which did not recognise the phenomenon of CSA, or did not take it seriously. This was particularly true for seven out of eight participants who experienced abuse during the 1960’s. While awareness of child physical abuse and neglect was increasing during this time, sexual abuse was not yet acknowledged as a serious social issue (Boxall et al., 2014). Rather, the “prevalence and impact of child sexual abuse was in various ways marginalised, hidden and minimised” (Boxall et al., 2014, p.9; Tomison, 2001). Societal understandings of CSA centred around abuse occurring outside the “respectable” family, blaming the victims, and pathologising the perpetrators as “sexually abnormal” (Olafson, Corwin, & Summit, 1993, p.14). It was not until the late 1960’s that “feminist groups contradicted the historical understandings of child sexual abuse as infrequent acts perpetrated by sexual deviants” and facilitated a new focus on CSA as a significant social issue (Boxall et al., 2014, p.9; Olafson, Corwin, & Summit, 1993; Tomison, 2001). Participants in this study believed this social context

190 served to facilitate their abuse, and limited the avenues for seeking help or disclosing their abuse.

We sat down in the grandstand, and these two guys behind started bagging Richard [abuser]. I had no idea, but when I think about it, they've gone, ‘Oh it’s Dicky with a little boy.’ They knew. And this is the era. People knew, and it was a joke. It was nothing like it is now. (Butch, E)

They knew. He was in his 30’s, 40’s, 50’s or something. He’d done it to all of the boys, used to touch them. Never got caught. Nobody spoke about anything in those days. Those were the days nobody spoke about it or came forward. (Peter, E)

Environmental Grooming. Consistent with the non-offenders’ narratives in Chapter 5 (n=6), and with previous literature (McAlinden, 2013), six participants in the offending sample reported that their abusers had also groomed their family and their environment. Some reported a belief that their abuser had deliberately developed an image that others in the community would view as trustworthy and safe for children. Others suggested that their abuser’s status and public image, whether deliberately constructed for the purposes of facilitating sexual abuse or not, served to minimise suspicions about their offending.

He had all the parents’ [trust] … I remember a great bloke [a parent from the football club], he was a bricky, hard as nails, thongs, great bloke. And he loved this Richard bloke [Butch’s abuser], he thought he was the ant’s pants, because he was intelligent, he had the [football] club running well. And he heard about this stuff and he went, ‘No way.’ They wouldn’t believe it. (Butch)

Stages of Grooming. Non-offending participants’ narratives in Chapter 5 suggested that there are two stages of grooming (pre- and post-abuse). Perhaps due to the brevity of the offenders’ CSA experiences (compared to non-offenders’ longer durations of abuse), clear stages of grooming were only revealed by three participants’. These involved (i) an initial stage of relationship-development prior to abuse that was associated with attention and treats; and (ii) a second stage, likely to occur after abuse onset, which invariably involved emotional coercion, such as pretending the abuse did not occur, and/or threats to avoid disclosure (e.g. Campbell, 2009; Elliott et al., 1995; Goodman-Brown et al., 2003; Plummer, 2018; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001). For example, participants described the second stage in the following ways:

191 He came around a couple of days later … he was just checking to see if I was going to tell. I know that's why he was there. Because he never called in, but … he knew mum and dad wouldn't be home … It ate away at me, because he still just pretended that everything was alright. (Butch, E, second abuser)

I lay there just mortified, just absolutely mortified. The next day she just carried on as if nothing had happened. (Robert, I)

For one participant, a culture of non-disclosure was facilitated by the status of his abusers as priests. The institutional context enabled freedom from detection for the perpetrators, and made Tom powerless to resist, stop or disclose the abuse:

‘You can’t lie about the Church.’ That was the sort of thing that was said to me … Big cover up. (Tom, E).

Unlike most of the non-offenders, more than half of the offenders were instrumental in ending their abuse after one to three incidents, by leaving the abusive situation, not allowing their abuser to isolate them again, or threatening to tell their parents about the abuse.

He’s put his hands there, and I went, ‘I’m going to tell my dad’ … then he panicked … I didn't let myself get isolated with him again. (Butch, E)

I think it was a Thursday that it happened … I went to school on the Monday and I was absolutely terrified that any of the boys may have noticed something … I never went back to that school. (John, E)

I suddenly saw that this is my own mother and what I was about to do. I said, ‘I can't.’ She begged me … I said to her, ‘But I'm your son.’ That seemed to resonate with her ... so she sat up … gave me a filthy look, and walked out of the room. (Robert, I)

Impacts of Grooming. As discussed in Chapter 5, the impacts of grooming from adult male victims’ perspectives have rarely been considered in the literature. These findings provide tentative insights into the immediate and enduring impacts of grooming behaviours. Immediate impacts of grooming were described by offending participants as

192 feelings of confusion (n=2) or interest/enjoyment (n=2) since pre-abuse grooming involved seemingly innocent behaviours that sometimes fulfilled participants’ needs (e.g. attention for socially isolated boys) (n=3). For example:

I just loved football … there was a … rugby union player, played for Australia … and I was talking about him and he said, ‘Do you want to see him play?’ I went, ‘I’d love to see him play!’ … So he took me there. (Butch, E)

Similar to the majority of non-offending participants, several offending participants reported negative emotional responses after the onset of abuse, including self-blame, responsibility or complicity, shame and fear (n=5). These were associated with participants’ perceptions that they should have “known better,” should not have “let it happen,” and fears that others would find out about their “complicity” in the abuse. Feelings of self-blame, responsibility and complicity were most commonly associated with grooming experiences in which the abuser took an interest in the victim or befriended him prior to abusing him. Feelings of fear were most commonly associated with the abuser’s means of deterring disclosure, such as threatening to harm the participant or his family if he disclosed, or threatening to tell the participants’ peers about the abuse, which some participants feared would result in them being ostracised.

I blamed myself … I’d been warned what they were like, I could’ve just grabbed my bag and run that first time, but I didn’t … I thought it was my fault … That I was weak. I felt extremely guilty … And I was deeply ashamed … I was terrified that the other boys might find out. (John, E)

When this happened with Richard, I didn't know what to do … I blamed myself. (Butch, E, second abuser)

While feelings of shame and guilt deterred disclosure at the time of abuse, they also had long-term impacts on participants in this sample, who struggled with these feelings throughout their lives (n=5).

I felt that I was complicit in that abuse. And to this day there's a little voice … saying, ‘Yeah you were!’ Even now, when I've had years of therapy … that little voice … won’t go away. (Robert, I)

I still have a hard time not feeling guilty about it. (John, E)

193 Several participants also described feelings of powerlessness due to their abuser’s perceived status both at the time of the abuse and throughout their lives. For one participant, these feelings resulted in an inability to trust others, especially authority figures.

I saw him at a 25-year reunion, and I let him talk to me ... He had this power over me … I was feeling what I felt… the helplessness … when he was leering at me when he was about to abuse me. (Butch, E)

I know rationally that it wasn’t my fault, there was a big power differential there, and he knew exactly how to exploit it … The Brothers had a lot of power over you. (John, E)

I never trusted anyone else, I never trusted the adults … I do not have a trust for authority. (Tom, E)

In some cases, feelings of complicity in the abuse coupled with having experienced a small number of abusive incidents also meant that participants did not view themselves as victims until they had received treatment or support for their abuse (n=4). This resulted in participants minimising the impacts of CSA:

If you asked me, I didn't think it affected me … ‘I wasn't raped, it’s not really abuse, it’s you, you're bad’ … I've spent my whole adult life going, ‘Nothing happened.’ (Butch)

I never perceived myself as a victim, and one of the things I learned in therapy is that I didn't have any empathy for my daughter as a victim … I think I buried the pain. (John)

Do I think of myself as a victim? No, not really … I don’t think I was extremely abused. (Andrew)

However, not defining themselves as “victims” or their experiences as “abusive” may also have been a means of self-protection or “avoidant coping” since minimising the severity and/or impacts of the abuse can alleviate negative emotional states associated

194 with victimisation (Holmes, 2008). This is evident in John’s assertion that he “buried the pain.”

It is also possible that these participants sought to regain some of the power they had lost by controlling how they defined their experiences. Their self-definitions may have been associated with the ideals of masculinity that were reinforced within their social contexts, such that defining themselves as victims would have been “akin to losing manhood” (Cossins, 2000, p.110) (see sections 2.7, 3.4.1.4, and Chapter 7). Nonetheless, since half of these participants still disclosed their CSA during childhood or early adulthood (see section 6.1.5), and three participants were instrumental in ending their own abuse after 1 or 2 incidents (see section 6.1.3 above), it appears that participants had an awareness that their experiences constituted abuse, despite their reported self-definitions.

Overall, offenders did not experience many of the elements of grooming identified by those in the sample of non-offenders, nor those identified in previous literature. Their abuse was largely facilitated by the social status of their abuser and the inherent power dynamic in an older, larger, more authoritative person isolating them for abuse. Unlike the non-offenders, relationship development was uncommon among participants’ experiences in this sample. Several offenders’ experiences of more aggressive approaches to maintaining compliance, as well as both offenders’ and non-offenders’ limited experiences of sexual desensitisation, are generally inconsistent with previous research (e.g. Conte et al. 1989; Elliott et al., 1995; Katz & Barnetz, 2015; Lang and Frenzel 1998; Phelan, 1995; Sullivan & Beech, 2004).

It must be noted, however, that some participants had difficulties recalling details of their grooming experiences because they occurred some time ago (on average, 50 years ago), and because some had attempted to “block out” their experiences as a coping mechanism. While these participants described parts of their abuse with clarity, the more nuanced elements of their experiences, such as grooming behaviours, were difficult to recall.

There’s always pieces that just haven’t come together yet … that was my earliest experience with something negative sexually. (Bob)

I can’t remember lots, it’s blacked out. (Tom, E)

195 That’s the hard bit. I remember the feelings up to a certain point and then I don’t remember anything after that. (Andrew, E)

However, it is also possible that these findings reflect significant differences in boys’ experiences of grooming. Some boys’ experiences of grooming might be characterised by shorter durations, less relationship development, more sexualisation, and more threats than other boys’ experiences. Since these types of grooming were more commonly reported by offenders, but rarely by non-offenders, it is possible that more limited grooming experiences (and, therefore, less close and dependent relationships) are implicated in the transition from victim to offender. This will be discussed further in Chapter 7.

6.1.4 Acts and Severity The extant literature suggests that severe abuse33 is a key factor related to subsequent child sex offending (Plummer & Cossins, 2016). It was therefore expected that offending participants would describe experiences of severe abuse. As shown in Table 6.4, the acts of abuse participants’ experienced varied from contact abuse with no penetration (n=4), to anal penetration with force (n=2). One participant experienced oral penetration, and four participants experienced abuse by multiple abusers. These results show that only two offending participants experienced severe abuse, compared to 9 out of 10 non- offending participants (see section 5.1.4). Note that one participant could not recall the acts of abuse he experienced with certainty due to his young age at the time of the abuse; this section outlines the findings for the remaining sample of seven participants.

Table 6.4 Acts Experienced and Severity of CSA Experience: Offenders (n=8) Acts Experienced Severity of CSA Experiences Genital Oral Anal Multiple Force Longer Higher Contact Penetration Penetration Abusers Duration Frequency > 1 year > 1 incident Butch X X Joe X X X X X John X X 2 incidents Robert X Tom X X X X X 4 years daily

33 Severe abuse is most commonly defined in the literature as abuse involving penetration (e.g. Burton et al., 2002; Hershkowitz, 2014; Salter et al., 2003). 196 Peter X X multiple incidents Andrew X 2-3 incidents Bob Could not recall with certainty

These results may be reflective of the fact that a link between abuse severity and subsequent sex offending has only been established among samples of adolescents (Burton et al., 2002; Hershkowitz, 2014). They are, however, consistent with studies involving adult samples that have not found a link between abuse severity and subsequent child sex offending (Papalia, Luebbers, Ogloff, Cutajar & Mullen, 2017; Salter et al., 2003; Simons et al., 2008). It is possible that abuse severity is related to subsequent offending but only in combination with other abuse characteristics. This will be discussed in more detail in Chapter 7 when offenders’ and non-offenders’ experiences are compared in more detail.

6.1.5 Disclosure It was suggested in Chapter 2 that victims who delay disclosure may be more likely to offend due to the development of inappropriate coping mechanisms in the absence of treatment and/or support. As shown in Table 6.5, three participants disclosed their abuse during childhood. Two of these three men only disclosed their second experience of abuse (at age 12) but did not disclose their first CSA experience until late adulthood. Two participants disclosed in early adulthood (aged 20 and 25), while three disclosed in late adulthood (aged 55-69). A similar pattern was found among non-offenders in Chapter 5, where three non-offenders disclosed during childhood, one disclosed in early adulthood (aged 18), and six disclosed in later adulthood (aged 33-57).

Table 6.5 Disclosure Experience: Offenders (n=8) Age at Age at Delay To Whom Response Onset Disclosure after Onset (years) Butch 7 55 48 Psychologist Abuser 1: Supportive (after offending) 12 12 0 Peer Abuser 2: Unsupportive Joe 14 ~ 60 46 Psychologist Supportive (after offending) John 13 55 42 Wife (after Neutral offending)

197 Robert 15 25 10 Wife Supportive Tom 9 13 4 Carers Unsupportive Peter 7 63 56 Counsellor Abuser 1: Supportive (after offending) Abuser 2: Neutral

12 12 0 Father Andrew 5 20 15 Father (after Mixed offending) Bob 5 69 64 Psychologist Supportive (after offending) Summary M= 9.8 M= 38.4 M=28.6 Therapist (1) Supportive (n=5) (n=4) Father (2) Mixed: Lack of (n=2) Wife understanding (n=2) (n=3) Peer (n=1) (3) Unsupportive: Carers (n=1) disbelieving, ridiculing, withdrawing (n=4)

Disclosure during late adulthood (n=5) is consistent with the literature on CSA victims’ disclosure patterns (e.g. Cashmore & Shackel, 2014; Finkelhor et al., 1990; Gordon, 1990; King & Woollett, 1997; O’Leary & Barber, 2008; Tang, Freyd & Wang, 2007). However, three participants at least partially disclosed during childhood, and two disclosed during early adulthood, which is less frequently documented in the literature.

Participants experienced similar barriers to disclosure as the non-offenders, including: x fears of family and peer reactions (e.g. that others would question their sexual orientation; view them as weak for not stopping the abuse; judge them for becoming an abuser) (n=4); x fears of not being believed (n=2); x not wanting to deal with the abuse (n=4); x feelings of guilt, shame and complicity (n=5); x feelings that nothing could be done to apprehend the abuser (n=2); and x fears of repercussions for the abuser (n=1).

For example, John’s experience demonstrated the fear of others’ reactions and associated feelings of shame and complicity in the abuse:

Some boys were singled out as being Brother so-and-so’s bum boy, and they were ostracised by the other boys. Because if you hung around with a poof then

198 obviously you're one. That was one of the things that scared me … I wasn’t about to let anybody ever know. (John)

Who to disclose to. Like the non-offenders, offending participants disclosed to parents/carers and peers (n=3) during childhood; parents and spouses (n=2) during young adulthood; and spouses (n=1) and treatment providers (n=4) during late adulthood. For six participants, disclosure occurred after they had offended and was often precipitated by their victim’s disclosure or an arrest for child sex offending. This finding may be important in terms of the significance of delaying disclosure for the transition from victim to offender. Since disclosure was prompted by an arrest for six out of eight participants, the question arises: if participants were apprehended earlier, would they have disclosed earlier? Alternatively, if they were never apprehended, would they have disclosed at all? In other words, the findings from this sample suggest that delaying disclosure may not be useful for understanding the transition from victim to offender since, for offenders, disclosure may be dependent upon being caught for child sex offences. It may, therefore, be more important to consider the disclosure experiences of offenders who disclosed prior to offending, including how others reacted to their disclosure (see below).

Reactions to disclosure. As discussed in Chapter 2 and Chapter 5, how victims’ disclosures are received is also an important consideration with respect to the impact of disclosure on the cycle of CSA, particularly for those who disclose at younger ages. For example, two participants who disclosed within 5 years of the onset of their abuse experienced negative responses to their disclosures including ridicule and disbelief:

I went, ‘That Richard had a go at me yesterday.’ ‘Ahhh you're a poofter!’ And then he went and told everyone, and I got teased. (Butch, disclosed to a peer).

They didn’t believe me … My own case officer would never have a bar of it. Didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to know about it. ‘Oh that’s not happening, you’re just saying that to get out of …’ didn’t want to know. (Tom, disclosed to carers in his residential care facility).

For those who disclosed during early adulthood (n=2), responses tended to range from neutral to unsupportive, which participants suggested was due to recipients’ lack of understanding or knowledge about how to assist.

199 Dad just doesn’t understand. We were having a conversation about it … and he said something along the lines of ‘If I was fucked up the arse I would remember.’ … It, sort of, put me on the back foot ... putting the blame back on me and I’m just trying to tell him what I remember at 5 or 6 years old. (Andrew, disclosed to father)

Robert’s experiences of disclosing female perpetrated abuse to his wife, and subsequently to treatment providers, are also consistent with the literature on FPCSA that highlights how “people find it difficult to understand exactly how a woman could sexually abuse a child. They are not seen to be capable of this kind of abuse” (Elliott, 1993, p.692).

The first person I told was my wife … she said to me, ‘I'm completely out of my depth.’ … Everyone else, you can see just this thing drift across their face, and they're thinking, ‘Where the fuck do I put this?’ (Robert, disclosed to wife).

In contrast, reactions to disclosure after convictions for offending to treatment providers were described by participants as supportive (n=4):

[My psychologist] has been so good … It's helping. (Bob, disclosed to a psychologist post-offending)

Overall, offending participants’ accounts revealed the diversity of disclosure experiences, including who is told, when, and the implications of others’ reactions to the disclosure. Most offenders delayed disclosure for between 10 and 64 years, which was similar to the findings for non-offenders in Chapter 5. Unlike the non-offenders, however, offenders often disclosed their CSA experiences after being charged with child sex offences. It is therefore possible that delaying disclosure is unrelated to transition from survivor to offender since both groups delayed disclosure, and most offenders only disclosed after being apprehended for child sex offending. Similarly, both offenders and non-offenders experienced some negative responses to first disclosure, especially disclosures made during childhood.

It was suggested in Chapters 2 that disclosure may be linked to subsequent offending (i) if disclosure during childhood is met with negative responses; or (ii) if disclosure is delayed, and inappropriate coping mechanisms (e.g. normalisation) are employed during the period between abuse and disclosure. Since offenders’ and non-offenders’

200 disclosure experiences were not substantially different, it is not possible to confirm whether, or in what way, disclosure experiences impact subsequent offending among this sample.

However, since none of the offenders who disclosed prior to offending sought treatment following their disclosure, while most non-offenders sought treatment, treatment after disclosure may be a more important factor for the cycle of CSA than whether disclosure is delayed. This is an important area for future research with larger, more representative samples.

6.2 Sexuality

As discussed in Chapters 3 and 5, sexuality is a key concept in theories of child sex offending. Several themes arose within non-offenders’ narratives that will largely structure the following discussion of offenders’ perceptions of the impact of their abuse on their sexuality: the development of sexual attitudes; sexual interests and experiences, including offending; the meanings attached to sexual experiences; and the relationship between intimacy and sexuality.

6.2.1 Development of Sexual Attitudes and Understandings Family context. Although most non-offenders described their family as having a certain degree of influence over their sexual development, few offending participants identified this. In fact, some participants emphasised that their parents were not instrumental in their developing understandings of sexuality (n=2):

It's [sexuality] not talked about [at home]. I learned it mostly through school … growing up, and even through teens … we would only get naked for the shower. There was no expression of body or anything in the family. (Andrew)

Most offending participants grew up in homes that did not openly discuss sexuality, and, like the non-offenders, some offending participants’ understandings of sexuality developed from observing their parents’ behaviour (e.g. marriage, divorce, extra-marital sex), which resulted in particular views about sexuality that varied substantially (n=4). For example, Robert’s mother instilled a strong sense of gender equality in Robert that resulted in his understandings of sexuality being based on respect for women:

201 My mother, to her credit, never had this idea about women’s roles. So I would find a lot of issues going to school and boys would be talking about girls or women in … a sexist way ... I would go, ‘What are they talking about?’ (Robert)

In contrast, others developed their understandings of sexuality based on their fathers’ behaviours, which emphasised sexual promiscuity and the role of men as being in control of sexual experiences (n=3).

[My father] was a bus driver, and … he was away, and he was only in his 20’s, so he’s womanising. And poor old mum’s … fighting because she doesn't want him to go … I saw that as how men … are the boss. (Butch)

My dad came out [to Australia] with two women and then he married my step- mum eventually … I met a girl … and that didn’t work out … I think my dad … had sex with her… He had welfare girls … children that … have nowhere to go, and they’re placed in a home for a little while … and he slept with one of them as well. And he told everybody at the bowling club. (Peter)

Some participants described their family contexts as sexualised (n=4). For example, Tom developed an understanding of sexuality from a young age due to his parents’ behaviour:

There’s a lady … who knew me as a child, and it shocked me when she said they used to knock on the door, [asking] ‘Where’s mummy?’ [I’d say] ‘Mummy’s in the bedroom having a root.’ So apparently I used to see the parents doing it as a young kid. (Tom)

Peers. Despite some having few friends in childhood and adolescence (n=3), all offending participants indicated that peers had a strong influence on what they understood about sexuality. Like the non-offenders, offending participants’ peers were instrumental in reinforcing masculine sexuality as heterosexual through behaviours that emphasised “acceptable” sexual practices. This resulted in many participants feeling pressure to conform to these ideals. For some, it led to feelings of difference, fears about their sexuality, and shame if they identified as homosexual:

They were objectifying women, and so was I in a sense. (Robert)

202 Back then, sometimes I went with other boys my own age. That’s a shame. I know now it’s not a shame, but I still feel ashamed of it … Homosexuality wasn’t promoted … There was always the fear of other boys finding out that you’re trying to go for boys. (Tom)

There was a fair bit of talk around the place about poofters … I always saw myself as a bit different to other guys … I was afraid that I was gay, or that I could be sort of effeminate. (John)

As described by several offending participants, practices such as homophobia or the demonstration of (hetero)sexual prowess provided opportunities for some participants to demonstrate their manliness (Cossins, 2000; Kimmel, 1993, 1997):

I got to rugby league and I got really good at it ... Then the women. And then it was like … you hear what goes on today, well it was worse when I was playing … The women were everywhere. (Butch)

As a teen and a young man I went through as homophobic as any other red- blooded Aussie guy. It’s very easy to do. (John)

However, just as for the non-offenders, homophobia was not central to most offending participants’ masculine sexual practices. Rather, one participant identified as homosexual, and five had engaged in sexual practices with other boys and men in adolescence or adulthood. Most offending participants described being open minded about sexuality:

The ‘Yes vote’ [for gay marriage] I agree with. If somebody loves somebody that’s their business, and not anybody else’s. (Tom)

Abuse. Since CSA was the first sexual experience for participants, the development of their understandings of sexuality often involved references to those experiences. As was the case for the majority of non-offenders (n=7), the experience of abuse by a man resulted in initial confusion over sexual orientation for some offending participants (n=3).

I wondered if I was poof. And I was afraid that I was. And I was deeply ashamed. (John)

203 I thought I was gay. I blamed myself, I went, ‘I must be a poofter.’ (Butch)

Several offending participants also described experiencing some physical pleasure during the abuse, which resulted in confusion about their sexuality, and concerns over their complicity in the abuse (n=3). For one participant, the experience of physical pleasure during the abuse perpetrated by his mother was further complicated by the attitudes of others, particularly peers, who minimised the harm of FPCSA (see Chapter 2, section 2.4). For another participant, the experience of sexual gratification during the abuse led to an interest in experimenting with similar sexual experiences during adolescence.

I felt very conflicted about [my sexual] response to that abuse at the time … Definitely, sexual activity with an older woman was viewed as a positive thing by my peers. Totally confusing. (Robert)

I had that initial taste from that [abusive] experience … as the years progressed … from 14 onwards … I encouraged my brother to have a go … and guys that I classed as mates … I identified as homosexual, yeah, on those grounds. (Joe)

I felt guilty … because it didn’t feel bad … I’m ashamed to say it, but it felt good when he touched me. I got an erection. (John)

Like several non-offenders, offending participants’ awareness that they would have been ostracised for having experienced abuse also suggests that CSA was regarded as the fault of the victim.

I understand why so many men who were abused have killed themselves. If it had been known by their peers they were abused, their lives as boys and young men would have been horrific. I saw it first hand. The treatment they received from other boys was brutal. (John)

I remember there was a kid at school who got teased because he got caught giving oral sex to the scoutmaster. He got absolutely vilified for his whole schooling. (Butch)

For most participants, both offending and non-offending, understandings of sexuality changed throughout the lifecourse, often with age, changing social circumstances, as

204 well as experiences with multiple partners and various behaviours. However, the majority of non-offending (n=8) and offending (n=6) participants indicated that their experiences of CSA continued to affect their understandings of sexuality. For example, Robert’s experiences of CSA led him to believe that “sex meant trouble,” which affected his ability to form sexual relationships, and impacted his subsequent offending since viewing child pornography afforded Robert the control he desired over his sexuality. Similarly, Tom’s abuse by significantly older men led to a lifelong vulnerability with respect to the age of his sexual partners:

Above 18, but not too old that they look old, because then it just feels like there’s a dirty old man raping me. It just makes it awful … that’s flashbacks ... Even though I understand it a bit, it's just the feeling of it, the ugliness of it. (Tom)

Butch also strongly linked “garbage” with sexuality since his first sexually abusive experience was perpetrated by a garbage man. This association persisted throughout his life, such that he often felt like a “garbage man” when engaging in sexual behaviours.

[The abuse] is all linked to my sexuality I think, because he was a garbo … I've always been ashamed anyway so this heightened the ‘garbage man’ in me … I think it’s from the abuse … this garbage thing … it’s still with me today. I go through it every week. I hate it. (Butch)

Sexual Partners. Like many non-offenders, offending participants described the role of sexual partners in reinforcing attitudes that had been developed within familial or peer relationships. Several participants described having a lack of knowledge and/or awareness about appropriate sexual attitudes, values and behaviours when they began to engage in consensual sex with peers during adulthood (n=5) because of their initial abusive experiences:

It was this sexual world of … what was normal? (Butch)

At age 12, 13, 14 … there was really not much time for fraternizing with the opposite sex… I felt I missed out on something there … I never really learned … how to make sure both parties enjoyed one another. (Bob)

Like the non-offenders, offending participants also described how sexual partners influenced their understandings of how men were expected to behave in sexual

205 encounters, which often reinforced the understandings they had developed from their peers (e.g. initiators of sex, self-confident, in control) (n=4). For example:

Because we were [professional footballers] … women would be in your bed, waiting for you when you got home, and there’d be swapping and all sorts of things ... I felt inadequate … but I had to do it. (Butch)

In a lot of cases with the young women, they knew I was after just one thing: have it off and that was it. (Joe)

If you get in a man’s bed, normally you’re going to have sex, aren’t you? (Peter)

In stark contrast to the non-offenders’ accounts described in Chapter 5, all participants in this sample described sexual experiences in which they were the dominant sexual partner, including accounts of seeking out sex, initiating sex, experimenting sexually, and engaging in sex as often as possible. For some, control was an important factor in their decisions about when, how, and with whom they engaged in sexual behaviours (n=4):

If a woman loved you she’d be prepared to do anything, so complete control. (Butch)

I just go to the adult centres … for relief or anything like that … I know you have to pay for it, but when you feel like it you just have to. (Tom)

A minority of offending participants described having been the less dominant partner in some sexual relationships (n=2).

I’m the less dominant partner during sex. I don’t push my partner into doing anything. (Andrew)

Well in a lot [of] cases with the men, I was the taker. Like, they’d do it, and I’d take it. (Joe)

Offenders’ experiences of a lack of success with sexual partners, either in obtaining sexual partners, or in performing sexual acts with partners, resulted in experiences of vulnerability and powerlessness (n=7). For some, these experiences related to sexual dysfunction (n=2), though this was more commonly reported by the non-offenders (n=8).

206 Others described feelings of shame, disappointment, or rejection resulting from partners’ responses to their sexual interests or behaviours (n=5). For example:

I didn’t have that kind of attention [from girls] … I had a problem with my own sexuality at that stage, trying to figure out, ‘What’s this about me? Why doesn’t this one have an interest, why doesn’t that one have an interest?’ I never quite figured it out. (Bob)

She doesn’t like shaving her pubic hair, and I’ve asked her a few times, and she said ‘No’ … But in that respect [being sexually attracted to prepubescent bodies] I’d probably enjoy it a lot more. (Andrew)

Offending participants were nonetheless aware of the importance of sexuality for constructing masculine identities, and, for many, sexuality was a site in which participants strived to prove their masculinity (n=7). This is a substantial point of difference with non-offenders’ (Chapter 5), since for most non-offenders, sexuality was not a site in which they could reliably experience power. Offenders, on the other hand, revealed continued attempts to live up to certain (often similar) standards of masculine sexuality, including being in control of sexual experiences, instigating (hetero)sexual encounters, being sexually skilled and experienced, and engaging in sex as often as possible. However, the ways in which participants enacted these ideals differed depending on the resources available to them within their social contexts, and varied over time.

Three participants highlighted the association between sexuality and masculinity in the context of male peer groups, where participants’ peers were competitive about sexual experiences, policed each other’s sexual behaviours, and encouraged certain sexual practices but not others. In these cases, sexuality was directly performed for other men’s approval, as a means of proving masculine status. For example, Butch participated in sexual activities with women that he was not always comfortable with to prove that he was not “different” to his peers who had questioned his sexuality after he disclosed his abuse. Such activities were aimed at fulfilling the expectations of his peers that he would ceaselessly pursue sex, always be ready for sex, and would demonstrate sexual dominance and competence. While he often felt that he was not living up to these idealised standards of male sexuality, he felt compelled to continually demonstrate to himself and others that he was indeed masculine:

207 There were seven of us who lived in a house, there’d be orgies and gang bangs and all this sort of stuff … I don’t think anyone enjoyed it … I think it was all of this group mentality … you had to fit in. (Butch)

Butch’s account demonstrates that participating in heterosexual sex was a vehicle for achieving acceptance as a man among peers. This was also evident in Joe’s account, where failing to demonstrate sexual interest in, and experience with, women was evidence of weakness. In line with the dominant masculine ideals within Joe’s social context, failure to successfully demonstrate sexual competence and skill was admonished by male peers through the practices of public ridicule and exclusion. In contrast, repeatedly demonstrating sexual experience and competence provided Joe with the opportunity to achieve masculine status among his peers:

[Sex] was like everything else, if you want to be part of this mob [male peers], you do it. If you don’t, you’re bloody weak. ‘We don’t need people like you, get out.’ (Joe)

Like Butch and Joe, experiencing masculine status through sexuality was something that Bob could not achieve through only one performance of sexual mastery. In order to demonstrate manhood, sexual behaviours had to be continually performed for other boys’ and men’s approval. During school, Bob’s peers reinforced the importance of sexuality for the accomplishment of masculinity through the stories they told about their sexual exploits. These stories reinforced what Bob’s peers regarded as “acceptable” sexual behaviours and attitudes (e.g. seeking sex with women as often as possible).

While Bob aimed to participate in these behaviours, he was often unable to achieve the degree of sexual success of other boys. Sexuality was nonetheless central to Bob’s identity, and throughout adulthood, he sought to expand his sexual competence, experience and skill within the constraints of his social context. He watched pornography, visited “dancing girls” with his peers, and initiated sexual encounters with his mother-in- law and sister-in-law in attempts to live up to the standards of masculine sexuality he understood to involve men as sexually experienced:

I started having an affair with my mother-in-law … two, three times a week we would be having sex. And in the oddest damn places … I learned what good sex was all about.

208 Other participants also described the importance of sexuality for their masculine performances but practised their sexuality differently to Butch, Joe and Bob because of the resources available to them. For example, Andrew described sex as being extremely important to him, but his isolation from peers and experiences of rejection by women meant that he pursued sex with sex workers and used pornography rather than engaging in sex with peers:

Sex is important to me … I think I’ve always been hypersexual … I think I’m a sex addict … When I’ve tried to form a relationship with someone, and being rejected, it's sort of easier to just go to a [sex] worker. (Andrew)

Sex in these contexts allowed Andrew to perform idealised forms of masculine sexuality by pursuing sex often, demonstrating sexual knowledge and experience, and being in control of his sexual experiences. While this was not directly demonstrated for other men’s approval (like Butch, Joe and Bob) due to his social isolation, his account emphasised that men must also prove to themselves that that they are masculine. For example, Andrew referred to men’s sexuality more broadly when explaining his pornography use, which established his membership in the male community:

I’ve had the thought that maybe it's more prevalent pornography-wise in men, I don’t know if it's true or not, but I think men are more visual in their sexuality.

In contrast, John constructed his sexuality around rebellion against social norms that he felt dictated that “acceptable” sexual attitudes and behaviours were, for example, heterosexual and were those that occurred within the context of marriage:

I had a different attitude to sex ... I didn't give a stuff about society's morals or rules, and saw them as something used by hypocritical elites to keep people under control … as something to break if it suited me. (John)

He also described opposing and rebelling against the sexual standards of other men whose sexual performances focused on sexual prowess, a ceaseless pursuit of sex, and the subordination of women:

When I was growing up, it seemed like a lot of the guys will do anything they can to get into a girl’s pants, and as soon as they do, she’s a slut. I just couldn’t go along with those attitudes ... if it’s not fun for the girl, why would it be fun for the

209 guy? ... But that doesn’t go down very well when you say that to your mates. (John)

Attempting to rebel against these dominant ideals meant that controlling his sexuality, including when, how and with whom he engaged in sexual behaviours, was important for John’s ability to construct a masculine identity.

Similarly, it was clear from Peter’s account that sexuality was important to his masculine identity, but the ways in which he practiced sexuality varied, from adhering closely to dominant ideals of masculine (hetero)sexuality in his interactions with women, to challenging or opposing these ideals in his endorsement of homosexuality. Peter emphasised a ceaseless sexual interest in women, and described “lots [of women] he wanted to go out with” but none that he had developed friendships with. However, while Peter strived to prove his masculinity through continually instigating and pursuing sexual encounters with women (despite frequent rejections), he did not engage in the reciprocal performance of homophobia as a means of proving his heterosexuality. Rather, Peter, like many other participants (n=6), described a very open-minded attitude to homosexuality:

I used to go to one of the hotels which is a gay bar … I wouldn’t have a problem living with a guy if it was the right guy. (Peter)

Peter’s account and the accounts of several other offending and non-offending participants support recent research suggesting that the visibility and social acceptance of homosexuality in recent years has diminished the importance of homophobia for the accomplishment of masculinity for some men (Silva, 2017; Adams & Kavanagh, 2018; Anderson, 2008; Anderson, 2018).

Sexual Interests and Experiences. While the majority of participants in the offending sample indicated some fluidity with respect to their sexual orientation (n=5), only one participant indicated a sexual attraction to children, which precipitated the onset of his online offending:

At 13 or 14 these feelings started to crop up ... Which makes me lean towards the sexuality side of things ... The onset came through puberty. Even though I still liked women … there is an attraction there to children … I’m sexually attracted to hairless, prepubescent bodies … I’m more attracted to adult women with

210 childlike qualities, flat-chested, maybe a little bit baby-faced … a bit more petite. (Andrew)

Although one other offending participant indicated that he had developed an attraction to children after his online offending, all remaining participants did not describe a sexual attraction to children specifically. Rather, these participants described their offending as opportunistic (n=3) due to the unavailability of other suitable sexual partners, or to the individual attributes of children broadly or their victim specifically. In some cases, the onset of the abuse occurred after the child victim reached puberty and developed the physical attributes of an adult woman (n=3):

Right up until my arrest, the majority of my porn was adult … I downloaded this picture of this girl, she must’ve been about 13, and I was quite surprised to find myself aroused. (Robert)

[I abused children] because I couldn’t get anybody else. (Tom)

I think it was opportunistic … it was my daughter specifically … I just saw her as a bit of a kindred spirit … I think the first time it was just in the moment it happened, and then once you've crossed a line once, it’s very easy to cross it again. (John)

Mine was an opportunistic thing … she grew very quickly, she must’ve been throwing bras away every three weeks, and that became even more attractive to me because she was starting to look more like a woman now, not just a little girl anymore. So the touching there escalated. (Bob)

Like the non-offenders, offending participants reported a range of sexual experiences throughout the lifecourse. For example, three participants described experiences of paying for sex. Others engaged in group sex, casual or anonymous sex, and several described engaging in extra-marital sex. One identified a sexual addiction, one was a member of a nudist club, two described engaging in coercive sexual practices, and six out of eight participants described experimenting with homosexual sex at various points throughout their lives, while only one participant identified as homosexual. For example:

I never had any great hang-ups about … sexual … things … I hitchhiked a lot when I was a teenager, and a fellow stopped … and gave me a lift … he was gay

211 and I knew it, and we had an experience; we performed oral sex on each other, he then let me perform anal sex on him … I realised that anal sex is not something for me, and I am not gay that way. (John)

A key difference between the non-offending and offending participants, however, was their stated motivation for engaging in various sexual behaviours. For non-offenders, sexual experimentation was designed to help them discover their sexuality, to experience intimacy in a safe environment, or was a form of self-abuse. In contrast, sexual experimentation was heavily related to fitting in with peers for some offending participants (n=3):

You don't feel good enough, and I’d go, ‘Well I have to do this to fit in.’ (Butch)

Sex was part of fitting in. A bit of a conquest thing. (Joe)

For others, sexual experimentation was related to inherent feelings of powerlessness as a result of CSA (n=5), discomfort surrounding sexuality (n=2) or problems trusting others (n=1). Sexual behaviours with partners that were not emotionally close to participants (e.g. paying for sex, watching pornography) allowed some offending participants the freedom to experience sexual gratification and explore their sexuality in a safe environment that they could control. For some participants, this was also a key motivator for offending:

When my mother abused me, that was my first sexual encounter … I believed that sex was trouble … that my own sexual response is dangerous … I then had this fairly weird sexual response after that, in all my relationships … I wasn’t comfortable sexually … Control for me was a massive issue. (Robert)

Broader social context. Finally, societal attitudes and institutions affected participants’ understandings of sexuality. Like five non-offenders, some offending participants who were abused by men reported that the social context at the time of the abuse made it difficult for them to understand their experiences. On the one hand, societal attitudes were ambiguous about the harm of CSA for the victim, while on the other they reinforced the unacceptability of homosexuality (n=4).

Those guys made a career of [sexually abusing children]. And their organisation just moved them around and covered it up as though it was nothing. (John)

212 [CSA] was sort of quirky, it was quirky and it was the kid’s fault for getting abused. (Butch)

Homosexuality … was an evil thing. But in the Church it thrived. (Tom)

Back in those days homosexuality was against the law. (John)

I know that's derogatory, but in our world, [my abuser] was a faggot. (Butch)

The social context in which the youngest participant in this sample (aged 31) came to understand his sexuality differed from other participants’ contexts. The social climate surrounding CSA had changed in the (approximately) 30 years since other participants experienced abuse and began to develop their sexual identities, such that CSA was more publically discussed, less accepted and less linked to homosexuality:

I didn’t tell anyone about my sexual attraction to children at the time. Because the only point of reference you have is the newspaper, and that’s negative. I felt [already] condemned. And shame. (Andrew)

During adulthood, understandings of adult sexuality were often impacted by social norms and media representations, particularly with the introduction of the Internet in the early 1990s at which point participants were, on average, 32 years of age. This broadened participants’ views of the nature and context of adult sexual behaviours, while also facilitating access to a range of sexual stimuli that were less accessible prior to the introduction of the Internet (n=4).

I don't know what boundaries are. I think, the internet age, watching pornography just numbs you. It just numbed me to when I abused my daughter … it was like she wasn’t my daughter, it was a body. (Butch)

Overall, most participants in this study described similar influences on their sexual development, including family, peers, sexual partners, sexual experiences, and social institutions. For both offenders and non-offenders, CSA remained a significant influence on participants’ sexual development. However, sexuality was a site in which offenders could reliably experience power and demonstrate their masculinity, while for non- offenders this was not the case.

213 6.2.2 Sexuality and Intimacy While the importance of intimacy varied among the non-offenders, the meanings offending participants attached to sexuality (e.g. fun, pleasure, trouble, need) did not indicate a strong link between sexuality and intimacy, particularly during adolescence and young adulthood (n=8). For example:

I think [sex is] mainly about fun. (Andrew)

Sex is a pleasure thing, it's an enjoyable thing between two people. (Tom)

I was a real sex monger … I’m going to do this. And usually because it will feel good. (Bob)

Half of the offending participants described confusion about the role of intimacy in sexual relationships, which meant that some participants engaged in sex when they desired emotional closeness (n=4). For example, Butch described “looking for love” when paying for sex, and equated love with sex and control in all his sexual relationships. Bob described thinking that he was “loving his wife very deeply” but acknowledged an inability to feel the emotions behind the words.

I thought I could love my wife … I can say, ‘I love you’ ... But something’s disconnected with me and [her]. (Bob)

Like the non-offenders, enduring issues with becoming emotionally close to others created problems for experiencing intimacy in sexual relationships for offending participants (n=3). This often stemmed from CSA experiences that were characterised by significant betrayals of trust, and participants’ subsequent issues with shame, self- blame and low self-esteem:

Real intimacy suddenly became part of my relationship, and I remember the first time it happened … I just suddenly withdrew, pulled away. (Robert)

I didn’t regard the age [of my victims]. I think it's just needing something more. I guess if you can’t get people, and you don’t trust anyone … [children are] easier to get. (Tom)

214 Difficulties understanding and experiencing intimacy were also reflected in offending participants’ accounts of their lack of empathy for their victims (n=7). For example:

I have trouble with empathy, particularly with empathy for these kids. (Bob)

I didn't have any empathy for my daughter as a victim … I think this is in part how I dealt with being abused and being able to abuse my daughter then go about my life in all other respects as though it hadn't happened. (John)

In the end, it boils down to losing that empathy for the child. Whether it’s physical or online … I would probably not describe myself as someone with a lack of empathy. But in that moment when I want to look at it [child exploitation material] I ignore the reality of it. (Andrew)

Some offenders’ narratives revealed changes in their views and understandings of the role of intimacy in sexual relationships throughout the life course (n=4), though this was more common among non-offenders’ accounts. For example, Robert identified an avoidance of intimacy in his early sexual relationships, though his understandings of the importance of intimacy changed when he met his wife:

With my wife I learned … it was safe to be intimate … that was the first person that I confronted intimacy with ever, in a relationship … It was hard. (Robert)

Overall, only a few offending participants identified significant experiences of intimacy in sexual relationships (n=3) and there was evidence among some participants’ narratives of confusion surrounding emotional closeness and sex (n=4). For most offending participants, like many of the non-offenders, an inability to emotionally engage with romantic partners was associated with unsuccessful relationships (n=8); seeking sex with partners who were not emotionally close (e.g. extra-marital sex, casual sex, sex workers, pornography) (n=6); avoidance of romantic relationships with age appropriate peers (n=1); and child sex offending behaviours (n=8).

6.2.3 Summary Qualitative analysis revealed that most participants in this sample, like most non- offenders, engaged in a range of sexual behaviours. Experiences of CSA, relationships with fathers, and peer-influence appeared to have the strongest effects on participants’ developing understandings of sexuality. Unlike most non-offending participants,

215 sexuality was important to most offending participants. Many offenders’ constructions of masculinity emphasised sexual practices, such as initiating sexual encounters, being sexually skilled and knowledgeable, or being the dominant sexual partner (Sakaluk et al., 2014). Some used sexual experiences to regain a sense of control, although this control did not always involve power over others (e.g. Andrew and Robert used pornography to control their sexual responses). Experiences of intimacy in sexual relationships were less common among this sample than the non-offender sample.

6.3 Relationships

Participants’ relationships with others constituted a key theme in Chapter 5. This section considers the significant and influential relationships that offending participants had with others from childhood through adulthood.

6.3.1 Contexts of Relationships Family context. Like the majority of non-offenders (n=7), most offending participants described family contexts characterised by varying degrees of isolation from parental supervision or support (n=7) due to divorce (n=4), death (n=2), parents travelling for work (n=2), or in one case, due to extreme violence and neglect which resulted in Tom being taken into institutional care at the age of 9. During care, Tom continued to experience physical and sexual abuse by various foster carers and institutional staff.

I was taken away … to [an orphanage] and from then everything was downhill to this day. (Tom)

Similar to the non-offender sample, only one offending participant reported having a close and loving relationship with his father.

I worshipped my father … he was the only person who loved me. He was the person who was on my side. (Robert)

Similar to the findings from the non-offending sample (see section 5.3), most offending participants described their fathers as dominant or authoritarian (n=6), violent or abusive (n=4), and/or distant (n=1), which meant that few participants felt emotionally close to their fathers. Nonetheless, their fathers strongly affected their understandings of how men should behave:

216 Dad was the ruler of the house … he was the wage earner. And we had to abide by what he said. (Joe)

Dad was a typical Aussie … he was violent with mum maybe a couple of times … My grandfather was in the … second world war … he was just the idol. So it was this really really male dominated family. (Butch)

My father was … very much a stiff upper lip type; you don't show emotions or that you're upset when things are going wrong, and that you can't show people that they're getting to you. I think a lot of that rubbed off on me. (John)

My father murdered my mother in front of me when I was just turning 9. I saw the murder. And it's like it happened this morning. (Tom)

There was a lot of violence. My dad used to beat my mum up all the time … My dad had an army belt … that he used to use. He’d put girls’ knickers on me and tie my legs to the chair. (Peter)

Despite the emotional distance between participants and their fathers, offending participants described the importance of their father’s approval, and the feelings of powerlessness, inadequacy, and anger that resulted from an inability to attain it (n=5).

I valued my father’s opinion 100 percent … that was a big deal, to have your father criticise you, I hated it, it really hurt … so I always thought I was no good. (Butch)

I didn’t feel close to my dad. I just wanted that love. But it didn’t happen. (Peter)

While one offending participant described a loving and supportive relationship with his adoptive mother, six participants reported difficult relationships with their mothers, which was also common among non-offenders’ accounts. Offending participants described their mothers in different ways: as the more dominant parent (n=2), emotionally demanding and/or “highly strung” (n=4), or naïve and/or victimised by their fathers (n=4).

My father … was just so easy going and my mother was completely the opposite … ‘Are you a man or mouse?’ was her favourite saying. (Robert)

217 She was so highly strung … I sensed her stress. (Butch)

At 5 years old my mum had a miscarriage, and I was mopping up the blood … Mum had a few. I found out later that my dad had brought the miscarriages on so mum wouldn’t have any more children. (Peter)

While three non-offenders in Chapter 5 placed a significant amount of blame on their family for the fact that they were sexually abused, few offending participants attributed their abuse to a lack of parental support or care. They believed the abuse was their own fault at the time it occurred, and/or the fault of the offender later in life (n=7). Familial relationships had a greater impact on offending participants’ decisions surrounding disclosure. Some did not tell their parents because they did not think they’d be believed (n=3), while others felt too ashamed because the expression of emotion or weakness was not well regarded in their family (n=4):

I didn’t tell … Either my mum would think I was making it up because she’s devout Catholic, or she would believe me and she would go down there and raise merry hell ... Neither of which appealed. (John)

We were a rural family … it was really a man’s domain … in my world, macho, growing up [with] footy, and all of that … I was petrified … if I told anyone … I just pretended it didn't happen. (Butch)

Robert feared the consequences for his mother (abuser) if he disclosed:

I knew if I [disclosed], she’d go to gaol … I didn't say anything to anyone. (Robert)

For most participants, both offending and non-offending, the family was not an environment in which close bonds were formed, though some participants’ family contexts were described as environments in which certain values were instilled from a young age, including “being good”, abiding by the rules, and not showing emotion.

Peers. Like the non-offenders, almost all offending participants attended boys’ schools, where boys who were “different” based on their race, class, or sexuality were subject to social practices that emphasised their difference:

218 Boys … often sat around discussing which [boys] they thought were poofs … there was … a very homophobic animosity to it … Same kind of thing with racism and stuff, there was an awful lot of that when I was growing up. (John)

At school the kids were awful about black people, calling them hideous names … the hierarchy was the English speakers [above] the Afrikaans speakers … Because my family was bilingual, we ended up living in this really swanky part of [town] … They [other boys] resented the fact that I was an Afrikaner and I’d stepped outside the group. (Robert)

Three participants described themselves as being isolated during their childhood and adolescent years:

I didn’t have a lot of friends. (Peter)

Throughout all of my schooling I had maybe two friends. (Andrew)

However, unlike most non-offenders, offending participants described developing friendships during school (n=5). Like those non-offenders who did develop friendships, this was often achieved by adopting personas that would be accepted by others, such as the “jester.” Boys who were athletic, smart, rebellious or successful with girls were looked up to by participants as exemplifying the types of masculinity they should strive to mimic. For example:

I fitted in everywhere, because even though I felt like Georgie Porgie, that was my secret world. But to survive, I was a jester, really popular. (Butch)

I always had at least one or two very close friends, and a fairly wide circle of lesser friends ... I looked up to the quiet, independent ones … Laid back, not going to be told what to do, rebellious. (John)

One of my friends … was the ladies man at the time. All he had to do was show up and women [laughs] 13, 14, year-old girls, started showing up … I was always jealous of him. (Bob)

219 Offending participants who developed peer relationships in childhood tended to continue to have friendships in adulthood, while those who were isolated in childhood continued to be isolated in adulthood. For example:

I got on with people, I found it easy to make friends; when in Rome, do as the Romans do … I've done it all my life, I've been with elite sportsmen … I've shot heroin with drug addicts. (Butch)

I have never had a friend in my life, to be honest with you. (Tom)

For some offenders, as was the case for some non-offenders, peer reinforcement of acceptable masculine social practices coupled with experiences of CSA resulted in enduring feelings of being “different” to their male peers in adulthood (n=3), fears of not being “good enough” (n=3), and/or experiences of being intimidated by other men’s masculine performances (n=3):

I don't feel good enough … I just picture a picket fence, with a beautiful lawn ... I felt separate to these ‘picket fence people’ all my life. (Butch)

In the boarding school in the bullying thing, I developed a certain underlying fear of men. (Robert)

When my dad left, [my brother] just ruled the house like an asshole … he was doing his macho shit … I was scared of him. He was intimidating. (Andrew)

For several offending participants, these feelings resulted in a desire to avoid people, particularly other men, which was often reflected in their relationship and employment choices (e.g. preferences for few friendships or for female friendships) (n=4):

If there were guys who intimidated me I just wouldn’t have anything to do with them. (John)

I like working with women. I hate working with men … I don’t want to hear all their bullshit, even in the pubs. (Peter)

There was, however, a pattern among offending participants’ accounts (n=6) of reliance on other boys and men throughout their lives for help and/or protection, direction, and

220 for feelings of belonging which was not found among non-offenders’ accounts in Chapter 5:

Two boys just decided they liked me. And they just made it clear to everyone else that I was their mate. But it’s amazing because the bullying stopped … [after my offending] I was put in a cell with a Samoan man … same thing happened as in boarding school … they're all built like brick shithouses, and they let it soon be known that I was under their protection, and all that stuff [bullying] stopped. (Robert)

Some boys were very understanding, like, ‘Oh, come here, Joe, there’s no need to cry about it, I’ll look after you.’ And we became close, good, buddies. But then there was the opposite. (Joe)

I’d call [prison] college ... It’s just like high school … There’s fights, there’s bullies … you’ve got to have friends on your side. I had a couple of good friends that looked after me. (Peter)

A big best mate helps … I tended to make friends with guys who were bigger than me, and you have very little trouble [laughs]. (John)

Unlike the non-offenders, offending participants described having fewer issues developing peer relationships during childhood and adulthood, though several reported underlying feelings of inadequacy and intimidation in relation to peers. For those who struggled to develop peer relationships in childhood, this continued throughout adulthood, but peers were nonetheless influential in the development of all participants’ understandings of masculinity.

6.3.2 Rejection, Disappointment, and Vulnerability Feelings of rejection, disappointment and vulnerability were as central to offending participants’ accounts of their relationships with others throughout their lives as they were to non-offending participants’ accounts.

Rejection and Disappointment. All offenders experienced rejections or perceived rejections (e.g. disappointments). For most, this was reflected in their accounts of unsuccessful marriages and romantic relationships (n=6). For half the sample, their partners’ discovery of their offending resulted in separation or divorce (n=4):

221 I’ve only ever really had one [romantic relationship]. I’ve tried through high school and stuff, but no, always rejected. (Andrew)

[Sarah] is the lady I’ve married … we separated after 49 years because of my offending. It's tragic. It really is tragic. (Bob)

Rejections were also experienced within offending participants’ relationships with peers and family. While some participants’ lives were characterised by repeated experiences of rejection, some described very specific examples of being rejected in personal relationships, often due to their offending behaviours, and the resulting feelings of disappointment and loneliness:

There were those [boys in school] who just wouldn’t give me the time of day … you were the weakest link, you were out … My brother … looked after me … we never left each other’s sides … now he doesn’t have anything to do with me, of course, because … I started abusing over the years. (Joe)

I used to belong to a [motorbike club] but one of the girls there went and told everybody about my offending … the guys didn’t want me, and the vice president was a big, tall guy and he didn’t want me there. So I just left. I’ve been a loner all my life. (Peter)

Vulnerability. Offending participants’ feelings of vulnerability largely stemmed from feelings of difference, or not fitting in, within their social contexts. In these situations, participants feared that others would see them as incompetent or inadequate:

I didn’t fit in with the guys. (Peter)

I was doing a good job there but felt like I didn't belong. (John)

Most also reflected on specific kinds of experiences in which they felt vulnerable, which all involved uncertainty and fear about potential psychological, emotional or physical harms. Similar to non-offenders’ accounts, offending participants identified experiences of vulnerability that included a lack of control over themselves or their environment (n=2); relationships with their mothers (n=6) or fathers (n=6); experiences of loss (e.g. partners, children, employment) (n=6); issues surrounding sexuality and/or sexual offending (n=6);

222 health issues (n=4), injury, specifically being the victim of physical assault (n=4), and peer relationships (especially when they felt they would be judged) (n=6). For example, Andrew said:

Around puberty … I was thinking of [children] sexually … I freaked out … I thought the only place I’m going to end up is either prison or suicide … [and] that threat of whether someone is going to approach me about this.

Offending participants’ responses to feelings of rejection or vulnerability varied according to circumstance, context, and age, but their narratives revealed a need to present an image that they felt other people wanted to see, usually one of strength and competence. Participants would often hide parts of themselves as a means of controlling how others viewed them (n=6), or might withdraw from social contact entirely (n=3) (which was also a common response to vulnerability among non-offenders (n=6)). Such behaviours were often used to prevent, rather than respond to, potentially negative outcomes (such as judgement or rejection) (n=6). For example:

People would say, ‘Oh Robert’s so relaxed!’ … I was terrified that people would know what a control freak I was … I was hiding stuff … so that I was outwardly a raging success. (Robert)

I sometimes wonder who the real me is … I feel I haven't stopped running since … I was abused … If I'm not running, I'm hiding in a crowd … I’d go through periods where I’d be a bit of a loner. (John)

I felt different, but I hid it. I played along … I had to hide that part [that was attracted to children]. (Andrew)

More than half the offenders dealt with experiences of rejection, vulnerability, or loneliness by engaging in self-destructive behaviours, such as risk taking, escalating drug or alcohol use, or self-abuse (n=7). This was also found among five non-offenders. In many cases these behaviours were expressions of participants’ low self-esteem or anger at feeling vulnerable or rejected. They were used as a means of “escape” or to “feel better” (e.g. by self-medicating):

I’ll always self-destruct rather than admit I’m hurt or ashamed … I discovered drugs, like marijuana … But it wasn't strong enough. So then hashish … then

223 LSD ... But heroin, that was the best… the first time I had it … I remember just going, ‘Fuck the world!’ … it was this protest, because that's the worst thing I could’ve done, because I was a footy player, my grandfather was a Light Horseman … shooting heroin, they were the scum, you don't do that. (Butch)

I didn’t like the world, I didn't want to be part of it … for 10 years I was very much a stoner, although I’d also binge drink … for many years I had a suppressed anger at the Brothers, at society, my parents and my peers; that fostered a rebellious attitude in me … I ignored laws concerning drugs, drank underage … engaged in some petty vandalism and took rides in a couple of stolen cars. (John)

For all participants, both offending and non-offending, experiences of vulnerability and rejection were common throughout the lifecourse. Most of these experiences stemmed from their relationships with others, and from being sexually abused. While non- offenders tended to respond to such experiences by withdrawing from social contact, controlling their environment, or self-abusing, offenders approached such feelings in several ways (identity management, withdrawal), but most commonly through self- destructive or risky behaviours.

6.3.3 Powerlessness and Power Like the non-offenders, offenders’ narratives revealed experiences of powerlessness and power throughout their lives. Peers were instrumental in participants’ experiences of powerlessness, since participants often evaluated their adherence to masculine ideals with reference to the masculine performances of their peers. During adolescence, other boys’ bodies were central to participants’ experiences of powerlessness. Like the non- offenders, many offenders commented on their (un)masculine bodies during adolescence that signified their inability to live up to masculine ideals like being athletic or strong:

I hated being in changing rooms and locker rooms and stuff like that with, you know, my peers. I was always a bit small and skinny. (John)

When I was about 12 I was [small] … I was late into puberty and I was ashamed of myself. (Butch)

224 During the high school days, the girls that I tilted that way for were always interested in others, not me … I was always a little heavier than most, and a lot of these guys were the stick thin athletes. (Bob)

During adulthood, other men’s constructions of masculinity around wealth, intelligence, athleticism, sexual prowess or toughness meant that participants often felt different to their peers, or unable to live up to the standards set by other men’s masculine performances. Participating in social practices that were highly regarded by boys and men in adolescence and adulthood, such as employment, sports, aggression or control, resulted in experiences of both power and powerlessness for participants. Successful performances proved participants’ competence, power and masculinity, while failure represented weakness, incompetence, and invited ridicule and judgement from peers.

Sport. Like the non-offenders, powerlessness was experienced by offending participants as both the inability to be successful in sport and physical activities (n=3), as well as the fear, or experience, of ridicule and judgement from peers when success was not achieved (n=2). For example:

At 11 years old … I outgrew the little gridiron league ... I was told in front of all and sundry from all over the town, ‘You’re too fat you can’t play this year,’ and got sent off … Humiliation in front of the boys. (Bob)

I was only just 18 when I got the [football contract], and this is like big time football … I felt inadequate. (Butch)

In contrast, success in sport provided some offending participants with an opportunity to experience a sense of achievement, self-esteem, and pride (n=3). For some, this meant that their self-images were centred around their sporting “identities”:

I got into playing sports … when I got to school that was a big tick, man, ‘This kid’s going to be great’. (Bob)

I just loved football, because that was my identity … I got really good at it … you have stars in your eyes … ‘This is great,’ and getting paid, and just the self- esteem of being a little bit special. (Butch)

225 Anything that you can ride, I excel at. When I was a kid I did horse riding … riding bikes, riding anything, and later on, driving like a maniac … It's a thrill like no other (John)

Employment. Relationships with men in work contexts were environments in which some participants experienced powerlessness (n=4), though this was more commonly reported by non-offending participants (n=9). Some offending participants described difficulties keeping jobs, and, like the non-offenders, reported consistent underlying fears that other men would reveal their inadequacies in the workplace. For example:

I was unable to keep a job throughout my life. (Tom)

I know I have good technical skills and ability in my profession, but sometimes feel like I'm blagging it; that somehow I really don't belong and one day I'll be exposed. (John)

For most participants in this sample, demonstrating a strong work ethic, being in charge of themselves and others, achieving challenging goals, and earning a good wage meant that work became a site in which these participants, like several non-offenders (n=6), could experience self-worth, respect and power (n=7). For example:

The only time I felt like I had some power as a kid was working in the laundry at the [orphanage]. Any job I’ve ever done I felt like people were always trying to tell me how to do something. I said, ‘Look … bugger you … you go in that section and do your job … I’m in charge, this is my area.’ So I took over the laundry. (Tom)

I got a job that paid very good money … My ability to stand up and lead people was valued. (Bob)

I’ve always worked … I got a job running the garage. The working wage was 10 pound[s] a week. I tripled the wage ... Dad only earned 12 pound[s] a week with overtime. (Peter)

Aggression. While less than half of the non-offenders described experiences of aggression or violence, particularly of perpetrating aggression or violence, almost all offending participants described these experiences in peer relationships. Half of the

226 offender sample described being the less powerful person in such encounters (n=4). Several participants reported being bullied during childhood. They attributed these experiences to their own unmasculine traits such as an inability to fight (n=6) or being small in comparison to their peers (n=4). For example:

In boarding school … If I were able to hold my ground and throw a punch or two I would probably have been left alone. But I wasn't, instead I was picked upon because … I was a good target. (Robert)

I was very small … So these kids that I grew up with right from primary school and high school and then in the work force … they made the rules, like dad made the rules … They’ve had control over me. (Joe)

For three offending participants, but only one non-offending participant, strength, toughness, and an ability to fight were central to peer relationships, particularly during adolescence. These social practices were commonly developed in response to experiences of powerlessness. For example, Bob was humiliated in front of his peers after being too overweight to play in the football team, so he developed an aggressive approach to the sport. Butch was ridiculed by his peers after disclosing his experience of CSA, which led to fighting. While Bob’s reliance on fighting declined with age, Butch continued to respond aggressively to feelings of powerlessness (his own or others’) throughout his life:

I learned to be very reckless in playing the game. I’d throw this big … body at people that were much smaller than me and I’d literally wipe them out … I had all the makings of a bully. (Bob)

I nearly killed a guy. I went to a pub to do business ... And this guy kept chipping at me … I just went over and I went ‘bang’ and I head butted him. His head smashed into a wall. Six weeks in intensive care. (Butch).

Control of Self and Environment. Like the non-offenders, offending participants described the lack of control they experienced during their abuse and during other childhood experiences, such as being bullied (n=4), moving home and/or changing schools (n=5), or in physically or emotionally abusive homes (n=5). These childhood experiences of powerlessness continued into adulthood for some participants who described experiencing little control over their lives (n=3).

227 Control over things in my adult life is not a factor. (Tom)

For others, childhood experiences of powerlessness resulted in the development of controlling behaviours in adulthood. This was also found among the non-offenders. Participants alleviated feelings of powerlessness by controlling their emotions (2 offenders, 2 non-offenders); fighting injustices (3 offenders, 8 non-offenders); or controlling their personal contexts, including family, work, or living arrangements (3 offenders, 4 non-offenders). Robert described the importance of controlling every aspect of his life:

I was the world’s biggest controller … when I couldn't control something I would freak out completely. And my poor wife would cop that most of the time … and my kids … I would melt down, throw things … control was huge. It was absolutely everything.

Overall, this analysis revealed that like the non-offenders, offenders’ lives were characterised by experiences of both powerlessness and power. For many participants, feelings of difference or inadequacy around male peers resulted in a range of behaviours that allowed them to experience power in relation to other men, particularly through success in employment. Participants’ experiences of powerlessness during childhood, including during CSA, were linked to continued experiences of powerlessness in adulthood for some survivors, and a need for control for others.

6.4 Characteristics of Offending

While the aim of this thesis is to examine the cycle of CSA rather than child sex offending more broadly, this section briefly documents participants’ experiences of offending. As described in Table 6.6, participants in this sample included intra-familial offenders (n=4), an extra-familial offender (n=1), both extra- and intra-familial offender (n=1), and non- contact offenders who viewed child exploitation material online (online offenders) (n=2).

Among the intra-familial offenders, four out of five participants sexually abused their daughters, while one abused his step-granddaughter. Of those who abused their daughters, two also abused several other family members, including nieces (n=1), granddaughters (n=1), and a son (n=1). Joe abused his own children (2 daughters, 1 son) in addition to his children’s friends and the child of a family friend (Table 6.6).

228 Tom was the only extra-familial contact offender in this sample, and he engaged in offences against boys that were previously unknown to him. The online offenders viewed child exploitation material involving unknown boys and girls (Table 6.6).

Table 6.6 Participant relationship to victim(s) and victim gender Participant Relationship to Abuser Victim Gender Butch Daughter Female Joe Multiple victims: 2 Daughters, 1 Son, Female child of a family Male & Female friend John Daughter Female Robert Unknown boys and girls (child exploitation material) Male & Female Tom Unknown male adolescents Male Peter Step-Granddaughter Female Andrew Unknown boys and girls (child exploitation material) Male & Female Bob Multiple Victims: 2 Nieces, Daughter, 2 Granddaughters Female Summary Intra-Familial: 5; Extra-Familial: 1; Online: 2 Female: 7; Male: 4 Participant Age at Onset Age at 6.4.1 Nature of Offences. Half the participants in this sample were in their 40s when they began offending (n=4). One participant was in his 50s, two were in their 20s, and one was 15 years of age. The average age of participants’ victims at abuse onset was 10 years, and average age at cessation was 12.8 years.34 Participants in this sample offended for periods of time ranging from less than one year to 16 years. The median duration of offending was 6 years (Table 6.7).

Table 6.7 Participant age at offence onset & cessation; Duration and frequency of offences Participant Participant Victim Age at Victim Age at Duration in CSA Age at Onset Cessation Years Frequency Onset Butch 40’s 10.5 13 3 yrs 3 incidents over a 3- month period Joe 44 Daughters: 9 Daughters: 11 2 yrs Monthly Son: 13 Son: 15 2 yrs Child of friend: 5 Child of Friend: <1 yr 5 John 46 8 13 5 yrs Weekly- monthly Robert 46 13 N/A 10 yrs Daily

Tom 20’s 9-13 9-13 Approx. 10 yrs Several incidents Peter 58 12 16 4 years Weekly- monthly

34 Victims of contact offenders ranged from 8 to 16 years of age, while victims of online offenders ranged from 6 to 14 years of age. 229 Andrew 15 6-14 N/A 15-19 (4 yrs) Daily 23-31 (8 yrs)

Bob 20 Nieces: 11-16 Nieces: 16 Nieces: 3 yrs, Multiple Daughter: 13 Daughter: 16 Daughter: 3 yrs incidents Granddaughters: Granddaughters: Granddaughters: 6 16 10 yrs

For participants who committed contact offences, the most serious form of abuse committed by five out of six participants was genital contact without penetration, while one participant engaged in penetrative abuse. More than half of this sample (2 online offenders and 3 contact offenders) had multiple victims (Table 6.8).

Table 6.8 Nature and severity of offences Acts Experienced Severity of CSA Experiences Genital Oral Vaginal/Anal Multiple Force Longer Higher Contact Penetration Penetration Victims Duration Frequency > 1 year > 1 incident Butch X X Joe Xreceived X X John X X X X Robert X X X Tom X X X X Peter X X X Andrew X X X X Bob X X X X

6.4.2 Grooming. Although offenders, overall, experienced little grooming as victims of CSA, consistent with previous literature, all contact offenders (n=6) described some degree of relationship development with their victims, which involved spending time with them, paying them attention, taking them on outings, and/or playing games with them. For example, Peter said in relation to his victim:

Her mum puts her down all the time, so she goes elsewhere for that love and attention. I gave her that … We’d go up for [bike] rides … go out for tea, go to the movies. (Peter)

Most participants described a process of gradual sexualisation that occurred over a period of time (n=5):

I sexualised her. So it took me a long time before I actually physically touched her. (Butch)

No participants reported engaging in physical force or threats with their victims:

230 I didn't need to be violent. It’s like training an animal … If you're gentle and patient, they will come to you ... Same as taming a dog … you be patient, give them a bit of food, whatever else, be gentle, calm voice … That's how I was with my daughter … that was how things escalated. (John)

While grooming of victims has been discussed in some detail in relation to participants’ own experiences of CSA, participants accounts of offending provide insight into a different type of grooming: “self-grooming”. Self-grooming involved rationalisations and justifications that served to minimise participants’ culpability and “block out” the potentially negative impacts of sexually offending and/or viewing child exploitation material (Craven et al, 2006; McAlinden, 2013) (see also Chapter 7, section 7.3).

‘I’m not harming anyone,’ that’s the justification that I use … I know it damages the kid … I’ve blocked off the part that knows. (Andrew)

You can justify it, you can put a good complexion on it ... I convinced myself, I wrote a narrative that said, ‘It’s not serious, what I'm doing.’ (Robert)

I knew it was wrong whilst I was doing it but I rationalised it … I tried to convince myself that what I was doing wasn’t actually abuse … that I wasn’t hurting her, that she wanted it. (John)

For online offenders, there was also evidence of a process of sexual desensitisation for the offender rather than the victim, where offenders’ behaviours progressed with their need to seek out new, different, and often more extreme forms of pornography.

With the porn, sensitisation sets in, and I … needed more extreme … like, you know the dog races? When they put the rabbit out there? I needed a more extreme rabbit sometimes. And then I went down this path. (Robert)

One participant described using emotional coercion to avoid disclosure, while five out of six contact offenders did not describe having employed any specific methods to stop their victims from disclosing the abuse. In many cases participants did not appear to view their behaviour as damaging to the child, or believed that the child was interested in participating (see Chapter 7, section 7.3). As a result, it is possible that they didn’t think they needed to overtly deter disclosure after the onset of abuse.

231 She, for some reason, loved me to touch her crotch … she didn’t stop me, she didn’t say ‘No,’ she just seemed to enjoy what I was doing … [She was] 13. So, she was a little vixen in the whole thing … I was truly lured in. (Bob)

The next day … everything was just normal, and she's come running up to me to give me a big hug and a kiss … I didn't perceive much by the way of resistance … she’d be cuddling me and I got the impression that she was amenable to what I wanted to do … Some nights she’d be grabbing me by the hand, ‘Sleep with me, daddy.’ (John)

When she was 13, she was laying on the bed and we were going to have sex. She asked, well she looked, and I could tell that look, she wanted sex, and I said, ‘No’ … I passed it by. Sometimes I regret that decision. (Peter)

Participants’ accounts of their victims’ (positive) responses to the abuse may be reflective of participants’ “self-grooming”, especially since participants were aware of the need to hide their behaviour from others, which suggests that they knew it was abusive:

You’re always thinking about whether you’re giving off clues and stuff, so you become very good at hiding it. (Andrew)

I have been good at hiding these kinds of things. (Bob)

6.4.3 Victim Disclosure/Cessation of Offending. In most cases of contact offending, the victim disclosed the abuse, usually to their mother (n=4), which ended the abuse (n=5). Some participants attributed victim disclosure to their victim’s developing understanding of sexuality, which was often facilitated by age (e.g. onset of adolescence) or sex education in school (n=3):

The kids started getting taught about this stuff in school. (Bob)

She was in adolescence [when it ended] so it would have been dawning on her quite how wrong it was what I was doing. (John)

In the two cases of online offending, participants were detected by the police, which ended their offending:

232 I’m pretty good with computers, I just didn't think that the stuff that I was doing … was of any consequence … we tell ourselves comfortable stories, you have to if you're going to commit a crime like that. (Robert)

Seven out of eight participants ceased offending following the first victim disclosure or police detection, and subsequent imprisonment and/or treatment.

6.4.4 Context and motivations for offending. Participants’ narratives revealed patterns around the context in which their offending behaviours occurred. For all participants, the sexual component of the abuse was paramount, and sexual stimulation was a key motivating factor for offending:

It was a sexual thing … I was able to block my daughter out enough that she wasn't my daughter … you hate yourself, but the sexual nature of the act overpowers that feeling. (Butch)

Your own self-pleasure overrides the empathy for the child. (Andrew)

While one participant’s offending was precipitated by a sexual attraction to children specifically, for some participants, a lack of sexual gratification in relationships with partners impacted their offending behaviours (n=5):

It's 20 years with no sex in the marriage. And it plays on your mind … I still wasn’t getting anything and this [offending] was pretty good. (Bob)

Around the time that I started abusing my daughter there were sexual problems in my marriage. (John)

Participants also described offending as a way to “feel better” in response to longstanding issues with self-esteem, or in response to day-to-day stressors, such as work (n=6).

It was an attempt to feel better. (Butch)

Sometimes when I’d had a hard day, I think I might be more likely to do something with [my victim] in the evening. (John)

233 That was my way of escape. (Joe)

Associated with the desire to “feel better”, some participants described offending, and particularly the continuation of offending, as being like an addiction (n=4).

If I was particularly depressed or lonely [I’d be more likely to look at child pornography] … that got me most high. That’s the only way I can put it. The high. It's like an addiction. And then as soon as you cum, ejaculate, it's just this rush of self-loathing and ‘I’m never going to do that again.’ And then you get back down to that level again and you’re back on to the websites. (Andrew)

I knew what I was doing was wrong. But … I felt like it was an addiction. (John)

Other participants described offending in terms of the “thrill” of the behaviour, which outweighed concerns over the risk involved in getting caught, awareness that it was wrong, or concerns for the welfare of their victims (n=4). This was often a factor in their continued abuse of their victims:

I was scared. But I got away with it. Nothing happened. It was a thrill. So I’d do it again. (John)

Others described offending as a way to feel in control, of themselves, of others, and of their sexuality (n=3). For example, Butch viewed the abuse of his daughter as an act of control, while Robert described his online offending as “the ultimate control”.

Porn is the ultimate control mechanism, because you can experience sex with complete control. (Robert)

Some participants also described their own experiences of abuse as having an impact on their offending behaviours (n=4). For example, John said:

A lot of the things that [my abuser] was whispering in my ear when he was abusing me, I said the same kind of things to my daughter … ‘There's lots of ways to make a girl feel nice.’ That haunts me.

234 All participants described feelings of guilt, self-loathing, disgust and shame in relation to their offending behaviours. For some, these feelings accompanied the offending at the time (n=3), while for others, they developed after victim disclosure, a conviction for CSA, or treatment for sex offending (n=5). In five cases, such feelings led to participants engaging in self-harm (e.g. attempting suicide).

As soon as I start feeling [sexually attracted to children] I’m just disgusted with myself. (Andrew)

I just wanted to suicide, because of the guilt … I just sat there going, ‘My god, I’m glad my dad’s dead, and I'm glad my grandfather’s dead.’ It's the shame … I thought I was the lowest of the low. (Butch)

Overall, participants’ understandings of, and motivations for, their offending centred around the sexual nature of the abuse. CSA was also described as a way to feel better, as a thrill, as a means of control, or an addiction, particularly in relation to the continuation of abuse. Some participants made connections between their offending and their own experiences of abuse, and all participants described negative emotional states and self- perceptions because of their offending (e.g. guilt and shame), though not always at the time they committed the offences.

6.5 Summary of Findings

This qualitative analysis revealed the complexity and variability of offending participants’ experiences. Several patterns emerged in relation to their experiences of abuse and offending, understandings of sexuality, and relationships with others that may contribute new insights to the literature on men’s experiences of CSA, as both victims and offenders.

6.5.1 Characteristics of CSA & Offending The pattern that emerges from offending participants’ narratives reveals experiences of abuse that commonly involved short durations (M=0.9 years), often 1-3 isolated incidents, by male abusers, between the ages of 7 and 10, and/or 12 and 16 (n=6). Previous research identified that abuse onset at 12 years of age or older was implicated in the transition from victim to offender due to the greater likelihood that victims would have more sexual awareness at this age. Indeed, the findings from this analysis suggest that experiencing a second onset of abuse during adolescence may also result in

235 survivors defining their abuse in sexual terms, as well as coming to understand their earlier CSA experiences as sexual.

Several other factors in offending participants’ experiences of abuse contrasted with previous literature, including the duration, frequency, and severity of abuse. The extant literature commonly associates these factors with subsequent child sex offending behaviours, yet few participants in this sample experienced significant durations or frequencies of abuse, and few experienced severe abuse. Due to the small sample size, it is not possible to conclude that abuse frequency or severity have no impact on subsequent offending. However, these findings suggest the need for further research into the mechanisms through which abuse frequency and severity may impact the cycle of CSA (e.g. other abuse characteristics in combination with these factors may contribute to subsequent offending).

Based on the extant literature it was also suggested in Chapter 2 that close or dependent victim-offender relationships would be implicated in the cycle of CSA. However, few offenders described the development of a close and/or dependent relationship with their abuser, and almost all participants were abused by at least one offender with whom they did not have a close or dependent relationship (n=7). Most participants in this sample attributed their abuser’s status and position of power and authority to the abuser’s success in facilitating the abuse, rather than any particular grooming behaviours. Nonetheless, participants’ narratives revealed tentative evidence for both immediate and enduring feelings of complicity and powerlessness as a result of the grooming process, as well as minimisation of the impacts of the CSA.

Since offending participants’ experiences of grooming were generally inconsistent with the extant literature, they provided unique insights into grooming experiences, including the possibility that grooming may be brief, and may vary depending upon the gender of the abuser and/or the context in which grooming occurs. It is therefore possible that more limited grooming experiences may be implicated in the patterns of abuse that lead some sexually victimised boys to become offenders, including those involving less relationship development, more sexualisation, and more threats to maintain compliance. However, since the link between limited grooming experiences and subsequent offending has not been established in the literature, this remains a tentative suggestion in need of further research.

236 Offending participants’ experiences of disclosure were multifaceted, involving lengthy delays and numerous barriers. Six participants disclosed their abuse in full after they had offended. Some made full or partial disclosures during childhood, but these were met with negative or unsupportive reactions from others (e.g. disbelief, ridicule, dismissal), and no offenders sought treatment following early disclosure. While it was suggested that delaying disclosure or experiencing negative reactions to first disclosure may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender (see Chapter 2), since offenders and non-offenders had largely similar disclosure experiences it was not possible to confirm this suggestion. Examining disclosure experiences among larger samples of victims and offenders remains an importance avenue for future research. These findings also suggest a need for further research into whether accessing treatment following initial disclosure impacts the transition from victim to offender.

There were some similarities between participants’ experiences of abuse and later offending, including the average age at onset (9.4 years for their own abuse; 10 years for their victims’ abuse) and severity of abuse (minimal penetrative abuse). However, participants’ experiences of offending largely differed from their experiences of abuse. While participants experienced mostly extra-familial abuse over short durations and with low frequencies, most engaged in the intra-familial abuse of girls for longer durations and higher frequencies. Participants often delayed disclosure of their own abuse for lengthy periods (more than 28 years), while almost all their victims (of contact abuse) disclosed their abuse within 4 years of abuse cessation, or as a means of ending the abuse. This may be reflective of the different social contexts in which participants’ victims experienced abuse (the 2000s as opposed to 1960s). Participants’ social contexts at the time of their own abuse were often characterised by minimisation of the harms of CSA and victim-blaming (see section 6.1.3). By comparison, participants’ victims experienced CSA within social contexts characterised by more knowledge and awareness of the harms of CSA among parents, children, and the media (Boxall et al., 2014; Quadara, 2017). This context may have encouraged disclosure by participants’ victims within a relatively short period of time (Boxall et al., 2014).

Participants’ accounts of offending also provided insights into the process of self- grooming (Craven et al, 2006; McAlinden, 2013). Only one participant described having tried to stop his victim from disclosing because most appeared to use justifications for their offending during the self-grooming process that characterised the abuse as harmless and/or their victims as willing participants. This finding contributes to the limited

237 literature on self-grooming by exploring the types of justifications that characterise this process.

6.5.2. Sexuality Only one offending participant in this sample described a sexual attraction to children specifically. Most participants’ sexual development was influenced by their experiences of CSA, where specific understandings of sexuality stemmed from their abuse (e.g. Butch and Tom viewed their sexuality as shameful, Robert viewed his sexual response as dangerous). Participants’ relationships with their fathers and peers were also instrumental in their developing understandings of sexuality. Sexual experimentation was common among this sample, and sexuality was an important practice for experiencing power for many participants. Experiences of powerlessness were also common, and were associated with sexual abuse, concerns over sexual orientation, rejection by sexual partners, unsuccessful relationships, and/or sexual dysfunction. Few participants described experiences of intimacy in sexual relationships, though intimacy became more important for some participants later in life.

6.5.3. Relationships Few offending participants described family environments characterised by emotional closeness, and most described violent or abusive home lives. While some participants reported being socially isolated during childhood and into adulthood, most described few problems developing peer relationships. Nonetheless, feelings of inadequacy and difference in relation to peers was common, and many participants’ difficulties with relationships stemmed from innate feelings of vulnerability after being sexually abused or bullied. Participants approached feelings of rejection and vulnerability by managing their personas, withdrawing from social contact, controlling their environment, but most commonly through self-destructive behaviours such as risk taking or substance use. Both power and powerlessness were common experiences throughout the lives of all participants, and most evident within participants’ relationships with male peers. Engaging in behaviours in which they could experience power and success allowed them to act in ways that mimicked the ideals of manhood (e.g. physical strength, self-control), particularly through success in employment. As will be discussed in the next chapter when offenders’ and non-offenders’ experiences are compared, participants’ narratives suggest that child sexual offending may have been one behaviour that allowed participants to mimic the ideals of manhood.

238 Chapter 7: Explaining the Transition from Victim to Offender

The primary aim of this thesis is to identify the factors that may affect the transition from victim to offender among sexually victimised men. This thesis further aims to contribute to theoretical understandings of why there may be a cycle of CSA among men by investigating how the lived experiences of CSA differ among boys, particularly how boys perceive their CSA experiences and interpret them within their social environments, such that some become child sex offenders in adulthood.

When the commonalities and differences among boys’ and girls’ CSA experiences were examined in Chapter 2, the analysis revealed that experiences of CSA for boys are often different to those for girls. Boys were less likely than girls to experience prolonged, frequent or severe abuse. Their abusers were more likely to be similarly aged peers or family members (e.g. siblings), authority figures, or women. Boys were more likely than girls to experience positive perceptions of their CSA experiences at the time and later, possibly due to grooming experiences. When these abuse characteristics were considered with reference to existing research into the cycle of CSA, it was suggested that certain characteristics of the CSA experience may increase a boy’s likelihood of perpetuating a cycle of abuse: (a) abuse during later childhood or early adolescence (aged 12 or older) (Plummer & Cossins, 2016); and/or (b) frequent abuse (Plummer & Cossins, 2016); and/or (c) a victim-abuser relationship that involved a high degree of closeness and dependency (as perceived by the victim) (Plummer & Cossins, 2016); and/or (d) grooming characterised by the creation of a dependent relationship wherein feelings of shame and self-blame are emphasised, and where positive perceptions or physical pleasure were experienced; and/or (e) delayed disclosure and/or negative responses to initial disclosure (that allowed normalising of the abuse to continue).

As a result of these findings, the analyses in Chapters 5 and 6 aimed to document offenders’ and non-offenders’ experiences of these abuse characteristics in order to answer the first research question:

239 What objective characteristics of boys’ experiences of CSA affect their likelihood of sexually abusing children in adulthood?

Chapter 2 further suggested that the above listed abuse characteristics may be interpreted differently by victims within their social contexts, and that these interpretations may impact the transition from victim to offender. To examine how experiences of CSA were interpreted within participants’ social contexts, Chapters 5 and 6 also analysed offenders’ and non-offenders’ life histories to answer the second research question:

Are there differences in the interpretation of their CSA experiences that affect the transition of victim to offender?

This Chapter concludes the analysis of these two research questions by comparing the lived CSA experiences and life histories of offenders (n=8) and non-offenders (n=10) to determine whether there are notable differences between the experiences of men who became child sex offenders in adolescence or adulthood and those who did not.

Since this Chapter aims to develop an explanation for the cycle of CSA, the findings will be discussed with reference to the current theoretical foundations for the cycle of CSA outlined in Chapter 3: Social Learning Theory (SLT), the Pathways Model, and the Power/Powerlessness Theory. Critically applying the principles of these theories to the findings will address whether current theoretical approaches can adequately explain the patterns among offenders’ and non-offenders’ accounts. This Chapter concludes with an assessment of the explanatory value of current theoretical approaches, and the gaps that require further investigation in order to explain the transition from victim to offender. The implications of the findings will be discussed, and avenues for future research will be highlighted in the following Chapter.

7.1. Patterns of Abuse Experienced by Offenders and Non-Offenders

The preceding two Chapters qualitatively analysed the life histories of a sample of non- offenders (n=10) and offenders (n=8). Their stories revealed the complexity and diversity of men’s experiences of sexual victimisation and offending. In order to develop a thorough explanation for why some sexually victimised men become child sex offenders, the aim of this section is to identify:

240 (i) the commonalities in the experiences and characteristics of offenders and non-offenders; and (ii) the differences in their experiences and characteristics.

Overall, this analysis found that the characteristics of abuse highlighted in the literature as being influential on the transition from victim to offender were not useful in distinguishing offenders’ CSA experiences from non-offenders’ experiences, as described in Table 7.1 and explained further below.

Table 7.1 Comparison of Participants’ CSA Experiences and Key Findings: Offenders (n=8), Non-Offenders (n=10). CSA Non-Offenders Offenders Key Findings characteristics associated with offending Age at Onset Under 12 (7) Under 12 (5) Contrary to expectations, (12 years of 12 and over (3) 12 and over (3) only 3/8 offenders were age or older) first abused at 12 years Average: 8.6 yrs Average: 9.4 yrs or older. Range: 2-14 yrs Range: 5-16 yrs 4/10 non-offenders were Median: 7 yrs Median: 8 yrs first abused at 12 years or older. Frequency Range: once - daily Range: once - daily Contrary to expectations, (Frequent Mode: Monthly (n=4) Mode: 1-2 times (n=4) offenders experienced abuse) less frequent abuse than non-offenders. Duration Average: 6.5 yrs Average: 0.9 yrs Contrary to expectations, (Longer Range: 1-12 yrs Range: <1-4 yrs offenders experienced duration) Median: 7 yrs Median: 1 yr shorter CSA durations than non-offenders. Relationship Family (n=3) Family (n=1) Teachers & Minimal difference to Abuser Teachers & Priests (n=3) Priests (n=2) Strangers between offenders and (Closeness and Strangers (n=3) (n=3) non-offenders. dependency) Peers (n=2) Peers (n=2) Other Known Adults (n=2) Other Known Adults (n=4) Abuser 9 male; 1 male & female 7 male; 1 female No difference between Gender offenders and non- (Literature offenders inconclusive) Severity Penetration: (n=9) Penetration: (n=3) Contrary to expectations, (penetration) Multiple Abusers: (n=5) Multiple Abusers: (n=4) offenders were subject to (Severe abuse) Force: (n=3) Force: (n=2)

241 less severe abuse than non-offenders. Grooming Extensive extrafamilial Extensive extrafamilial (n=1) Contrary to expectations, (dependency, (n=5) Intra-familial (emotional offenders had more self-blame, , Intra-familial (violence, coercion) (n=1): limited grooming pleasure) force) (n=3) experiences than non- offenders. First Delayed Disclosure (n=6) Delayed Disclosure (n=5) No difference between Disclosure Age: 15 - 57 yrs (range) Age: 12 - 69 yrs (range) offenders and non- (Delayed Delay: 11 - 45 yrs (range) Delay: 4 - 64 yrs (range) offenders. disclosure or negative Reaction to First Reaction to First Disclosure: 6/8 offenders disclosed reaction to Disclosure: Supportive (n=2) after offending. initial Supportive (n=8) Unsupportive (n=2) disclosure) Unsupportive (n=2) Mixed (n=4)

For example, while an older age at abuse onset, closer victim-abuser relationship and delayed disclosure (or negative reactions to disclosure) have been linked to subsequent child sex offending in the literature, there were no notable differences between offenders’ and non-offenders’ likelihood of experiencing these abuse characteristics.

There were also no substantial differences between the abuse characteristics reported by participants who experienced FPCSA and those who experienced male perpetrated CSA. However, the experiences of the two participants who experienced FPCSA (Sabai and Robert) differed from each other in terms of the nature and severity of the abuse. For example, Robert’s mother did not abuse Robert with a co-offender, unlike Sabai’s mother. While Sabai’s experiences were consistent with Lawson’s (1993) “overt” and “sadistic” forms of mother-son CSA, Robert’s experiences more closely align with Lawson’s (1993) “subtle” and “seductive” categories, although Robert also experienced “overt” CSA.

Robert’s mother engaged in behaviours that were “not intentionally sexual in nature”, were inappropriate for his age, and intended to meet his mother’s “emotional and/or sexual needs at the expense of [Robert’s] emotional and/or developmental needs” (Lawson, 1993, p.266). In section 6.1.3 Robert explains that his mother’s “highly demonstrative” behaviour was often coupled with emotionally demanding and/or emotionally abusive behaviour, consistent with “subtle” and “seductive” mother-son CSA. These behaviours preceded Robert’s experience of “overt” sexual abuse, which is described in detail in section 7.2, and involved many of the behaviours Lawson (1993)

242 describes as “overt” CSA, including “clothed or unclothed touching of genitals, lingering sexualised kissing or hugging, intentional genital exposure, and direct exposure to adult sexual activity” (p.266). Sabai also experienced many of these behaviours during his mother’s abuse, however Sabai’s “overt” abuse was more frequent and prolonged than Robert’s and involved repeated experiences of intercourse until Sabai was 14 years of age.

When there were substantial differences between offenders’ and non-offenders’ experiences of certain abuse characteristics, the characteristics that the literature links to subsequent offending were more often reported by non-offenders than offenders. For example, while the extant literature links severe, prolonged, and frequent abuse, and more extensive grooming experiences to subsequent child sex offending, these abuse characteristics were more often experienced by non-offenders than offenders in this sample.

The answer to the first research question, therefore, is that the objective CSA characteristics identified in the literature as affecting the transition from victim to offender had limited utility for distinguishing the offenders and non-offenders in this study. This may be due to the relatively small sample sizes, and the self-selected nature of these samples. However, the methodology of this study provides the opportunity to gain a deeper understanding of participants’ lived experiences, perceptions, interpretations, and understandings of their CSA experiences, and of their offending. The rich data gathered from the interviews with offenders and non-offenders in this study allowed for consideration of the second research question:

Are there differences in the interpretation of their CSA experiences that affect the transition of victim to offender?

When participants’ interpretations of their abusive experiences were compared, including how they came to understand their lived experiences and make sense of them within their social contexts, distinct differences became apparent between the two groups. It will be argued in the next sections that two overarching patterns emerge from this analysis: x understandings of the abuse as sexual; and/or x a likelihood to minimise/normalise their abusive experience at the time and later.

243 First, offenders were more likely to interpret their CSA experience as sexual. For example, six out of eight offenders understood the abuse to be sexual at the onset of their CSA experiences, whereas only one out of ten non-offenders did so. As will be discussed throughout this chapter, offenders revealed that experiences of some abuse characteristics such as an older age at onset, a shorter duration, lower severity, and/or limited grooming contributed to their understandings of their abuse as sexual from the outset. In adulthood, offenders’ narratives suggested that they were more likely to view sexuality as a site in which they could reliably experience power. Offenders also described their own offending behaviour as sexual in nature and explained that empathy for their victims or awareness that their behaviour was socially unacceptable were “overridden” by their sexual desires. These findings suggest that the different interpretations of CSA experiences for offenders and non-offenders resulted in different constructions of sexuality, with offenders constructing their sexualities around control and power.

Second, offenders (n=7) more often minimised the abusive nature of their CSA experiences at the time and throughout their lives than non-offenders (n=4). Offenders suggested that the brevity of abuse, lack of severity, experience of some physical pleasure during the abuse, and ending the abuse after a short duration (as opposed to the abuser ending the abuse, which was more common for non-offenders) meant that they tended to minimise the negative impacts of CSA, both at the time of the abuse and at the time of their own offending (see section 7.3 below). Offenders revealed that their relationships with others, particularly men, were often influenced by the ways in which they developed and performed their masculine identities. Their accounts of childhood and adolescence were more often characterised by social contexts in which masculinity was represented by others as having to be tough, strong, emotionally unaffected, and aggressive compared to non-offenders. For example, offenders’ fathers were central to their understandings of men as being in control during childhood, while peers reinforced the importance of male dominance through bullying and intimidation in adolescence and adulthood.

Within this context, offenders were more likely to construct personas to fit in with the hyper-masculine cultures of their families and peer groups, and were more prone to prove their masculinity through aggression and risk-taking behaviours than non- offenders. Their narratives suggested that their constructions of masculinity necessitated minimising the harm caused by their abusive experiences since the demonstration of vulnerability and victimhood would have been akin to showing weakness and therefore

244 detrimental to their masculine performances. In this way, offenders constructed masculinities focused on control, and minimising the abuse was one way that offenders could demonstrate, and experience, control (over their abusive experience, over their status as victims, over the way other boys and men viewed them) (see section 7.3 below).

In sum, the abuse characteristics analysed within this study did not in themselves distinguish offenders’ from non-offenders’ CSA experiences. However, the findings suggest that certain abuse characteristics contributed to the ways in which offenders understood their CSA experiences within their social contexts, and this influenced the ways in which they constructed their sexualities and masculinities. Patterns among offenders and non-offenders’ accounts suggest that the transition from victim to offender is impacted by experiences of abuse that result in victims understanding the abuse to be sexual in nature, and that allow the victim to minimise his experience of abuse (to himself and/or to others) such that he may not self-define as a “victim” of CSA. I will argue in section 7.4 that in order to explain the cycle of CSA, it is important to consider whether a victim understands his abuse to be sexual in nature and whether he minimises his experiences of CSA, rather than considering these factors independently.

These findings highlight points of difference between the two groups in this sample that require engagement with current theoretical accounts of the cycle of CSA: Social Learning Theory (SLT), the Pathways Model, and Power/Powerlessness theory. Analysing the findings within these theoretical frameworks will address the second aim of this thesis: to explain the transition from victim to offender among the sexually abused men in this sample. I will argue in sections 7.2 and 7.3 that SLT and the Pathways model are more limited in their ability to explain the findings in this study than the Power/Powerlessness theory, before suggesting an explanation for the cycle of CSA in section 7.4.

7.2 Understanding the abuse as purely sexual

None of the theories discussed in Chapter 3 specifically identify abuse characteristics that may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender. However, the preceding analysis revealed that there may be limited utility in considering the impact of objective abuse characteristics on subsequent offending among this sample. Therefore, these theories may be useful for explaining the transition from victim to offender since they

245 focus on the types of CSA experiences, rather than objective abuse characteristics, that may be associated with subsequent offending.

SLT suggests that experiences of CSA that result in victims learning “deviant sexual scripts” are implicated in the transition from victim to offender. SLT suggests that children learn behaviour that is modelled by influential others. The more “status, prestige and power” the model has, the more likely the behaviour is to be learned (Bandura, 1971, p.18). However, Chapters 5 and 6 showed that all participants attributed their abusers’ status and power to their success in abusing them. Hence SLT does not explain why the non-offenders in this study did not also become abusers, since in their experiences, CSA was also modelled by powerful abusers.

There was also little evidence in this study that the behaviour itself was “imitated” (Akers, 2009) in that the offenders’ subsequent sexual acts rarely replicated their experiences of abuse. While offenders mostly experienced short durations and low frequencies of extra-familial abuse perpetrated by male abusers, their offending pattern was different: they engaged in intra-familial abuse of girls for longer durations and higher frequencies. Few offenders experienced grooming or sexual desensitisation, yet most engaged in grooming their victims. These participants, therefore, did not appear to have “learned” the behaviours they engaged in with their victims from their own experiences.

Additionally, there was little evidence that offenders “learned” “deviant sexual scripts” from their abuse. All participants revealed noticeably similar sexual attitudes and adult sexual experiences. The only key differences were offenders’ greater likelihood to be more dominant in sexual encounters, and to place greater emphasis on sexuality for their self-worth. Neither of these differences amount to “deviancy,” as suggested by SLT. Since these characteristics are also evident in community samples of non-abused men (Beier et al., 2006; Dombert et al., 2015; Freel, 2003; Hall, Hirschman & Oliver, 1995; Templeman & Stinnett, 1991), participants’ accounts are more indicative of the breadth of normative masculine sexualities than “deviant” sexual behaviours.

SLT proposes that internalised attitudes and beliefs about adult-child sexual behaviours (resulting from experiences of CSA) are reinforced within a child’s social context. For example, negative responses to abuse disclosure (e.g. disbelieving, unsupportive, indifferent responses by others) are considered to be linked to victims’ internalization of sexual attitudes which are conducive to the development of sexually abusive behaviours (e.g. Burton, Miller, & Shill, 2002). More broadly, SLT suggests that “seeing

246 transgressions go unpunished” can result in victims replicating abusive behaviours “to the same degree as witnessing models rewarded” (Bandura, 1971, p.25). Several findings from the present sample contradict these assertions.

Throughout the grooming process more non-offenders than offenders experienced attempts by their abusers to influence their perceptions of the acceptability of adult-child sex (four non-offenders vs. one offender). As well, the fact that more offenders than non- offenders experienced only one to three abusive incidents suggests that the acceptability of adult-child sex was not strongly reinforced. As previously discussed, most participants described social contexts in which their abuser was not admonished for his or her behaviour, and in which CSA was not taken seriously by society more broadly. This does not, therefore, explain why only the offenders went on to abuse. In fact, since non- offenders experienced more instances of their abuser going unpunished due to the longer durations and higher frequencies with which they were abused, it would follow, according to SLT, that the non-offenders in this sample would be more likely to become offenders. Further, while most participants indicated that CSA was not taken seriously during their childhoods, one offender grew up learning that CSA was socially unacceptable from his peers and the broader society:

All you see at the time, the only point of reference you have, is the newspaper, and that’s negative … I remember in high school one day they were talking about a news article about someone having sex with a two-year-old or something, [the other boys said,] “just kill him, how could someone do that?” And I felt the same. (Andrew, aged 31)

While some offenders’ accounts support the acceptability of adult-child sex (n=4), as discussed in Chapter 3, viewing children as sexual objects is not necessarily “deviant” nor “abnormal” when considered within the social context of modern Western cultures that frequently sexualise the bodies of children (e.g. in the media) (O’Donohue, Gold & McKay, 1997; Papadopoulos, 2010; Rush & La Nauze, 2006; Tankard-Reist, 2010) (see also section 7.4.). While the behaviour itself is socially unacceptable, it is not necessarily “deviant” or psychologically “abnormal”. As noted by Green (2002, p.470-471):

Sexual arousal patterns to children are subjectively reported and physiologically demonstrable in a substantial minority of “normal” people. Historically, they have been common and accepted in varying cultures at varying times. This does not mean that they must be accepted culturally and legally today. The question is:

247 Do they constitute a mental illness? Not unless we declare a lot of people in many cultures and in much of the past to be mentally ill.

The focus of SLT on victims’ internalisations of the acceptability of adult-child sex, and the reinforcement of these understandings in their social contexts, does not explain the pattern of experiences among this sample. SLT’s acknowledgement of the importance of sexuality for subsequent offending is hampered by the binary conceptualisation of sexuality as “normal” or “deviant”. According to this theory, all participants would have learned “deviant sexual scripts” during their abuse (potentially more non-offenders than offenders in this sample based on the factors hypothesised to strengthen learning (age, duration, frequency, close victim-abuser relationship35)). Assuming that all victims of CSA, therefore, will learn deviant sexual scripts and behaviors overlooks the fact that the cycle of CSA is almost exclusively found among men. Thus, the influence of sociocultural factors specific to men’s experiences of abuse, relationships, and sexuality must also be considered although they are noticeably absent from SLT’s explanations for the transition from victim to offender. The emphasis on social learning implies, however, that the difference between boys’ and girls’ experiences lies within the culturally defined gender norms for men and women. The inadequacy of this “sex role36” approach to explaining the significance of gender for the cycle of CSA is discussed below.

Like SLT, the Pathways Model suggests that different CSA experiences may affect the degree to which “normal” sexual scripts are “distorted” among sexually victimised children, such that “the type of preferred partner, the kinds of sexual activities, and the context for such activities … will vary among individuals depending on their learning history” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.332). Although SLT and the Pathways Model highlight the impact of CSA on a victim’s sexuality, understanding the abuse to be sexual in nature (as found in this sample) is not the same as learning “deviant sexual scripts”.

The Pathways Model provides more specificity than SLT in terms of what is meant by “deviancy” by providing examples of the types of sexual script distortions that may develop from the experience of CSA. Distorted sexual scripts include “inappropriate partners (e.g. age discrepancy), inappropriate behaviours (e.g. deviant or sadistic practices), or inappropriate contexts (e.g. impersonal sex)” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.332). The key flaw in child sex offenders’ sexual scripts is hypothesised to be the

35 Considered to be the “significance of the model” in SLT. See Chapter 3 for more detail. 36 See Chapter 3, Section 3.4.1.4 for more detail. 248 context in which sex is considered desirable. According to this theory, sex is equated with intimacy, and feelings of vulnerability are misinterpreted as a need for sex. Yet what constitutes “deviant practices” remains elusive, and why, for example, “impersonal sex” is “inappropriate” is not explained by the theory.

While there was little evidence that offenders in this sample linked sex with intimacy (see section 6.2.2), there was some evidence that feelings of vulnerability or loneliness were misinterpreted as a need for sex. Some offenders described being more likely to engage in offending behaviours if they were particularly lonely, depressed, upset, or stressed, and that sexual offending provided a means for these men to “feel better.” However, offenders revealed that a desire for emotional closeness often motivated their decisions to seek sex with adult partners as well.

Also contrary to the Pathways Model, experiences of vulnerability were common within all participants romantic and sexual relationships. Confusion surrounding the role of intimacy in sexual relationships resulted in both groups engaging in sexual behaviours when they desired intimacy (e.g. due to feelings of vulnerability, loneliness, rejection, etc.). For example, both Adrian (non-offender) and Butch (offender) described thinking they were looking for love when they were seeking sex with strangers (being paid for sex, or paying for sex, respectively). Confusion surrounding sexuality and intimacy is also not uncommon among men generally. For example, in a sample of eleven men between the ages of 23 and 66, Price (2014, p.67) found that it was “exceptionally difficult to practice intimacy as a man in society” due to the “tangible repercussions for deviating from the expectations of traditional masculinity.” This created confusion for the men in his sample about how a man can show emotion and experience intimacy, when, and with whom.

Participants, particularly non-offenders, revealed that men’s attitudes to, and understandings of, intimacy were likely to change over time, with intimacy being less associated with sexual behaviours and more associated with emotional connection and/or friendships with romantic partners as men got older. Similarly, Price (2014, p.83) found that all participants in his sample reported that “the meaning of intimacy changed from sex to meaning more than just sex” as men aged, such that they experienced and understood intimacy “differently as they grew older and/or experienced more in relationships.” Beutel, Schumacher, Wediner & Brahler, (2002, p.27) also found an increase in partnership satisfaction with age, with “openness” in partnerships being

249 predictive of greater satisfaction in a representative community sample of 1,299 men aged 18-92 years.

These findings pose a problem for the Pathways Model’s explanatory potential: if men develop a better understanding of intimacy in later life, as the findings in this study suggest, according to the Pathways Model the onset of offending should have occurred in young adulthood when the roles of sex and intimacy were more confused. However, the median age at onset of offending among participants in this study was 42 years of age.

The link made by the Pathways Model between experiences of vulnerability and child sex offending does not sufficiently explain the findings among this sample, highlighting a key flaw in the Pathways Model. In other words, the theory locates the source of child sex offending within the “abnormal” individual with “deviant sexual interests.” This study reveals that both offenders and non-offenders’ consensual sexual interests were remarkably similar. The socially unacceptable nature of offenders’ sexual behaviour comes from who they chose as sexual “partners” rather than the sexual behaviours or interests themselves being “deviant” (i.e. the age of their victim, and/or the familial relationship they had with their victim). However, to say that the choice of a child victim is socially unacceptable is not to say this it is “abnormal”, since, as discussed previously, a sexual interest in children is not uncommon among populations of non-offending men (Briere and Runtz, 1989; Dombert et al., 2016; Freel, 2003; Hartill, 2011; Hayashino et al., 1995). In this study, only one participant in each group described a specific sexual attraction to children.

SLT and the Pathways Model, therefore, make value judgements about what is “appropriate” or “acceptable” sexual behaviour. This provides little analytical value for the findings of the present study. The analysis of offenders’ accounts suggested that offenders may define their abuse in sexual terms, more so than the non-offenders. However, this does not imply deviancy. Rather, as suggested by the Power/Powerlessness theory, these findings are more consistent with the assertion that a boy may learn from his experience of CSA that sexuality is important for his sense of self-worth.

Offenders in this study who experienced shorter durations and lower frequencies of abuse were more likely to define their abuse in sexual terms, since they also more often described experiencing abuse when they had some sexual awareness prior to being

250 abused. Their sexual self-identities also appeared to be related to experiencing less grooming than the non-offenders. The comparative lack of grooming for offenders meant that their understandings of their experiences were not confounded by factors like their relationship with their abuser, while the brevity of the abuse did not provide the opportunity to develop alternate interpretations over time. For these participants, therefore, the sexual nature of the abuse was the central defining feature. For example, Joe described his abuse in the following way:

They were solid built blokes, they weren’t skinny blokes... I said to one of them … “have you got any girlie magazines?” … so, he brought this collection … where you get all the naked pictures and that. Well that got me going. I was like a bull at a gate, sort of thing. And one of the guys started taking my shirt off, and my shorts, my undies and everything. And then he started playing with me, getting me erect, you know. And then he started doing the same thing. Before I knew it, there was six of them! Six guys all undressed, with full-ons. And they weren’t little short ones either, they were well-endowed. Then it got to the stage where one, two … I was just gang raped … as the years progressed, I encouraged my brother to have a go … I said … “go ahead and do it” … because being that way now was … I had the taste of it, so to speak … And then I started to abuse … I think I did it because I was abused.

Even among offenders who experienced some degree of grooming, such as Robert and John, the sexual nature of the abuse received a great deal of emphasis in their descriptions of their experiences. Robert described the sexual nature of his abuse in significant detail:

[My mother/abuser] was standing at the door … talking to me. And she exposed one breast, deliberately … she said to me, ‘do you like it?’ And I said, ‘yes’. And then she walked around the end of the bed … and started kissing me with an open mouth. And I kissed her back. And then she took my hand and put it on her breasts … and put her hand in my pants and I had an erection. And she fondled my erection and continued to kiss me, and I continued to respond … she took her gown off, and she lay on the bed, and she opened her legs, and she said to me, ‘come’… when I was looking at my mother lying naked on the bed and looking up at me, I remember her vagina and it was very hairy and, sorry, excuse me, wet, and it was very confronting … then … I believed that sex was trouble, sex puts you in places that you don't want to be, that my own sexual response is

251 dangerous. And what happened was that I then had this, I think, a fairly weird sexual response after that, in all my relationships. It was always, I was a bit distant from it, I was watching it, rather than being in it … don't let yourself go into it, don't lose control. Control for me was a massive issue. And porn is the ultimate control mechanism, because you can experience sex with complete control … this is how I ended up offending, was that with the porn, sensitisation sets in, and … I needed more extreme [images] … And then I went down this path … I went to child abuse material.

John’s account was similarly detailed:

[Christian Brother/abuser] was in a storeroom … he started talking to me, asking if I had any problems with masturbation or dreams … I was really curious … he started going on about how sometimes boys have a blockage, and it needs to be fixed ... he said he could do it if I wanted to. And I let him. He sat me on his knee, I had my shorts down, and he taught me to masturbate … he whispered in my ear, and he was breathing on my neck, and it sort of tingled, and it didn't feel bad. And I was kind of terrified of anybody finding out, but there was a thrill in the risk … About three weeks later ... he wanted to examine me again and so I let him … he got me to stand on [a wooden bench] and he sucked my penis’ … then he sat me down, he said it was his turn, and I didn't want to do it … He was threatening me. It was like he had no fear at all of any repercussions … So I sucked him off … I never thought of myself as a victim … I had a different attitude to sex than most guys I knew … I didn't give a stuff about society's morals or rules, and saw them as something used by hypocritical elites to keep people under control. I saw them as something to break if it suited me and I thought I wouldn't get caught … I am not a predatory child sex offender … I was scared. But I got away with it … It was a thrill. So I’d do it again.

By comparison, non-offenders were more likely to experience abuse for longer durations from a younger age, and the understandings they developed about their abuse tended to involve views of the abuse as a “relationship”, “special secret” or “punishment” rather than a sexual experience. Non-offenders rarely described the sexual nature of their experiences in great detail, and often described the “relationship” between themselves and their abuser as having a greater impact on their later outcomes than any of the sexual acts they experienced. For example, when asked about what they found most difficult about their experiences of CSA, non-offenders described the emotional coercion

252 and loss of control as having greater impacts than the sexual acts both at the time of their abuse, and throughout their lives. For example, Adrian and Ruben said:

It’s absolutely unimportant how often [the abuse occurred] and with how many [abusers] … During the abuse something totally confusing has happened, something which you know usually nothing about at the time … what you do know is you have no choice … and that’s what you struggle to recover from, is the total loss of control. And what becomes difficult later in life is where there are situations where you think you have a choice and it turns out you don’t, they really swat you (Adrian).

The bit that still resonates with me most is that there's so much, you know, six years of my life … stuff happened in it that really just coloured the way I've been for so long … The physical pain has gotten fixed up, I had an operation, but it’s that other [emotional] stuff that’s been hard to shake. (Ruben).

These findings suggest, therefore, that the relationship development experienced by non-offenders meant that they were more likely to focus on the non-sexual elements of the abuse than the sexual elements. Because most did not understand their experiences to be sexual at the onset of, or for some time during, their abuse, the loss of control or emotional coercion inherent in the abuse were central to their understandings. By comparison, offenders’ experiences of abuse were more likely to result in victims defining their abuse in sexual terms. Abuse characteristics such as shorter durations and frequencies of abuse, less severity, and less grooming contributed to their interpretations. These factors may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender.

However, sexualities are constructed within a person’s social context, and are continually reconstructed over time with the influence of peers, romantic and sexual partners and broader social institutions, as the findings of this study indicate. These findings, therefore, must be considered with reference to the different social contexts of offenders and non-offenders.

7.2.2 Understanding the abuse as sexual: The social construction of sexualities Participants’ accounts of their social contexts at the time and shortly after their abusive experiences (i.e. during childhood and adolescence) revealed the significance of their social environments for how they understood their abuse (see section 5.1.3 and 6.1.3). Many commented on social contexts that minimised the significance of CSA, some

253 described contexts that promulgated the notion that CSA was the fault of the victim, while broader masculine ideals of emotional stoicism, heterosexuality, and physical toughness limited some men’s options for disclosure or resulted in negative disclosure experiences. These findings, therefore, suggest that the social context in which CSA occurs, and the contexts in which victims make sense of their abuse, are important for understanding the transition from victim to offender. As Fergus and Keel (2005) caution, it “remains imperative to focus on the social climate in which abuse occurs” and avoid an overemphasis on “individual pathology,” such as defining the offender, or the behaviour, as simply “deviant” (p.3).

Participants described particular social contexts which gave rise to experiences of feeling different, loss, rejection, vulnerability, loneliness, powerlessness, as well as experiences of strength, success, support and intimacy. The most notable difference between offenders’ and non-offenders’ accounts, however, was the importance of sexuality for offenders’ experiences of self-worth and for the accomplishment of masculinity compared to non-offenders’. Since this was one of the strongest differences between the two groups, arguably, an adequate explanation for the cycle of CSA must consider the social constructions of both sexuality and gender. Beginning with SLT, this section will, therefore, consider how each theory considers the social constructions of gender and sexualities to explain why only some sexually victimised boys become child sex offenders.

SLT places great importance on social groups for learning behaviours and attitudes:

the significance of primary groups comes not only from their role in exposing the individual to culturally transmitted and individually espoused definitions [attitudes, values, beliefs] but also from the presence of behavioural models to imitate, and their control over what rewards and punishers will likely be available and attached to criminal or conforming behaviour (Akers, 2009, p.61).

While SLT proposes that primary groups such as family and peers are likely to exert the most influence on behaviour, behaviour is also theorised to be influenced by

more distant reference groups … they might include imaginary or real groups, persons and situations portrayed through the various media, as well as more formal bureaucratic organisations such as those encountered on the job or in

254 school or agencies of social control, law enforcement, and criminal justice (Akers, 2009, p.72).

In this way, SLT incorporates the influence of broader social contexts on how “deviant” sexual attitudes, beliefs and behaviours may be reinforced to produce child sex offending. Men’s and women’s social contexts are said to involve different experiences of socialisation that increase the likelihood for men to engage in crime broadly, and CSA specifically:

male socialisation (social learning in the family and in peer groups) is less likely than socialisation of females to produce conformity to social and legal norms. Girls and women are subjected to more conforming-inducing social control (role expectations … and so on) … The social costs of violative behaviour are greater and the rewards smaller for females than males … The probability that males will be exposed to deviance-producing patterns of associations, reinforcement, definitions, and models is higher than it is for females (Akers, 2009, p.339).

Despite acknowledging that men’s and women’s social contexts are different, SLT provides no justification for the way it conceptualizes these differences. For example, there is no indication of why the “social costs of violative behaviour” would be greater for women, nor why men would be more likely to be exposed to “deviant models.” This points to a key flaw in this theory: in order to explain the gendered nature of sex offending using SLT it would be necessary to rely on a “sex role” perspective (discussed further below).

If the Pathways Model was to be used to understand child sex offending, greater consideration would be given to the sociocultural context in which men come to understand their abuse, and the influence of social context on how men develop understandings of the status of women and children. However, like SLT, use of the Pathways Model would enable the significance of gender for the cycle of CSA to be considered from a “sex role” perspective. The Pathways Model and SLT suggest that there are only two “sex roles” in a given society, a male sex role and a female sex role, and that the appropriate attitudes and behaviours for each role are “transmitted” to children, such that male children will internalise the male sex role through social learning. According to this theory, gender “becomes resolute and unvarying” (Messerschmidt, 1993, p28) (see also section 3.3.6).

255 However, participants’ accounts in this study revealed the dynamic nature of masculinity; the things that were important for some men’s masculine identities were unimportant for others, and the ways participants constructed their masculinities varied throughout their lifespan. As outlined in Chapters 5 and 6, for example, some men felt “masculine” when providing for their families, others felt they had achieved a sense of manhood when they were successful in sports, others described their masculinity in terms of being in control of themselves and others, while others emphasised sexual prowess as the key to their masculine performances. Importantly, participants did not construct their masculinities in just one way or through just one behaviour. Similarly, changing life circumstances resulted in most participants constructing their masculine selves in different ways across the lifespan. The findings in this sample, therefore, reflect Messerschmidt’s (2000) assertion that “behaviour by men is obviously considerably more complex than that suggested by the idea of a universal masculinity that is preformed and embedded in the individual prior to social action” (p.80).

By assuming that men ascribe to static sex roles that proscribe that women and children are subordinate, and that emotions must be controlled, the Pathways Model fails to explain why all men who have experienced CSA do not become child sex offenders, since they would all be conforming to the same culturally defined, “universal,” form of masculinity (Messerschmidt, 2000, p.80). Overlooking the relational nature of gender, and the social inequality and power relations between men and women and among men (Connell, 2005; Messerschmidt, 2000) means that the Pathways Model, like SLT, cannot account for why only some sexually victimised men in this sample became child sex offenders.

To explain why the cycle of CSA only exists among some men, as discussed in Chapter 3, the different ways men “do” masculinity must be considered, with reference to the resources individual men have within their social contexts to enact the ideals of manhood (West & Zimmerman, 1987). Although men consult “existing, but previously constructed, masculine ways of thinking and acting to construct a masculine identity in any particular situation”, masculinity “is always individual and personal” rather than common to all men (Messerschmidt, 2000, p.81). However, “specific forms of masculinity are available, encouraged and permitted, depending upon one’s class, race and sexual preference,” such that men “do” masculinity in different ways “under specific constraints and varying degrees of power” (Messerschmidt, 2000, p.81). When masculinity is viewed in this way, it is possible to understand why only some sexually victimised men become child sex offenders (Cossins, 2000).

256 For example, Bob’s account demonstrates how social context and the availability of certain masculine resources at varying times and in varying circumstances throughout a man’s life shaped the behaviours he engaged in to construct his masculinity. Bob, an offender, grew up in a male dominated environment and placed a great deal of importance on achieving his father’s approval:

Mum was never the smartest match in the box, she was a country girl … My dad had been raised in a big city, had gone off to see the world ... [He] did very well for himself, and I think that’s where I get an awful lot of my forthrightness, no need for anybody else, I’m just, I’m a leader, I’m a problem solver, I’m an entrepreneur. You’d probably call me an overachiever, but I could never meet my dad’s goal ... That created a lot of anger in me.

Bob experienced CSA in early childhood by a close friend of his father’s. He described a strong sense of sexual awareness from a young age when he became interested in, and began sexually experimenting with, same-age peers shortly after his abuse:

At 4 years old, one of the girls up the street … She was the same age as me … we used to play ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ ... I absolutely loved it … [I] didn’t really go off and start grabbing little girls or anything of that nature, just a particular interest.

During childhood and adolescence, Bob’s peer group emphasised the importance of athletic and academic performance, risk taking, and sexual prowess. Sports and academics were areas in which Bob experienced success, and a sense of inclusion, self- esteem, and pride:

I was pretty smart. I’d catch the things instantaneously when the rest of the kids needed an hour lesson … I got into playing sports ... Life was really tied up in our sport.

However, Bob found that he did not have the same sexual opportunities as his peers:

Some … boys in our class … got into sexual things much sooner and were always bragging about their conquests … It really wasn’t anything I could be involved in, I was interested [laughs] ... But yet really still no opportunity.

257 Instead, Bob constructed his masculine identity around success in sports and the demonstration of physical strength, toughness, and athletic skill. In this way, Bob acquired a degree of status among his peers which coincides with Messner’s (1989) assertion that the “choice to pursue or not to pursue an athletic career is explicable as an individual rational assessment of the available means to construct a public masculine identity” (p.71).

However, during adolescence Bob gained too much weight to continue to play football:

One of the big problems came for me at 11 years old when I outgrew the little gridiron league that I was playing in. I turned up on the first day like everyone else and they weighed the kids because you were only allowed to weigh up to a certain point … basically I was told in front of all and sundry from all over the town, ‘You’re too fat you can’t play this year.’ And got sent off … I had to wait 2 years … until I could play again.

At this stage, Bob turned to another practice that was also valorised within his social context: academic performance. He constructed his masculinity around intelligence and academic success, and achieved a sense of self-worth by “easily” accomplishing tasks that involved mental determination and skill. Since this allowed him to feel superior to his peers, from adolescence through to adulthood, Bob’s masculinity was constructed around success and achievement in academic pursuits and, later, in his ability to acquire high-level, well-paid, employment:

I got a job that paid very good money. [I] made the highest wage at that location than any other graduates from [my] year and [I] w[as] very good at what [I] did.

However, during young adulthood, competing demands of study, work, and family life resulted in Bob failing to succeed in both academia and employment. Bob’s ability to consistently experience power in the workplace was, therefore, no longer guaranteed:

I was going to uni, I was commuting an hour into the city, an hour back at night time, homework, working part time for father. That four years was an absolute nightmare. At 21 I almost committed suicide.

258 Fluctuating experiences of powerlessness in these areas led Bob to periodically seek out another way to experience power. Bob described feeling that he had not “fulfilled [his] manliness in the sexual area.” He was unable to match the sexual behaviours of his peers during school, and described limited sexual experiences prior to meeting his wife:

It seemed to take so long to get involved [in sex] and all … So my entry into adult sexuality was short cut, rushed, somehow. I never really learned about good foreplay and how to take my time and how to make sure both parties enjoyed one another … My mind was in that teenage mindset for years, even into our thirties.

Nonetheless, Bob described sex as being important to his sense of self-worth, and felt that he hadn’t had the opportunity to prove his masculinity through sex. At this time in his life, Bob described having few opportunities to engage in sexual experimentation, particularly due to his wife’s lack of interest in sex:

Our sex life went … to virtually nothing ... And [my wife] found out that she liked virtually nothing … which I hated … I used to go out with the guys … Nothing [in the way of sexual opportunities] … nothing sexual during that whole time at all.

Bob began to sexually abuse his nieces. He described these behaviours in purely sexual terms, and as a form of sexual experimentation and accomplishment, rather than as abusive acts:

The youngest one was 14 and the eldest one was 16 … I would’ve been 23 at that stage … That was really my first offending. And gee, I liked the little touch, that really did something for my brain … the thrill of it. The risk didn’t seem to factor in at all … The youngest one she was the best endowed of the two girls. And when I was scratching her back I undid her bra ... Well the next thing you know her top is gaping down and the bra has then dropped down and I can see her boob from the side. And she was a blondie and I had never seen nipples that colour before, very tawny coloured against this almost pink skin that she had. And it was like ‘Oh wow!’ ... With her sister, it was always with clothes on and it was always more the rubbing or a little bit of wrestling that was going on. And just a quick touch. Never did let me get my hand up between her legs. I tried. She had good strong thigh muscles.

259 Throughout adulthood, Bob could not achieve a sense of manhood within his work-life due to losing or changing jobs, or because of experiences of failure in his employment, and eventually retirement. As a result, he turned to sexual abuse, and other sexual practices within the constraints of his social context (such as extra-marital sex with his mother-in-law and sister-in-law) as a means of constructing a masculine identity. This is consistent with the Power/Powerlessness theory’s assertion that when men attempt, but do not live up to masculine ideals “in other arenas of life” (e.g. employment, sport, family life), certain activities may become “key experience[s] through which power is derived and masculinity is accomplished” (Cossins, 2000 pp.126,127). The power/powerlessness theory argues that when other masculine resources are unavailable or limited and men link sexuality and power, they may choose child sex offending behaviours to alleviate feelings of powerlessness. A link between an intermittent inability to successfully engage in masculine practices in his employment and recurrent periods of offending was evident throughout Bob’s narrative:

My success, if you will, in being a man really came out through my work which is why I think my retirement was such a big downer for me, and kicked off some more of the offending.

Bob’s account identifies how the construction of masculinity is dynamic and changeable throughout the lifecourse. Social contexts and relationships with others are instrumental in identifying acceptable forms of masculinity, but how men choose to construct their masculinities is individual and context dependent. As Messerschmidt (2000, p.81) explains, masculinity is the:

construction of personal history up to a specific point in time and exemplifies the unification of self-regulated practices. These practices do not, however, occur in a vacuum. Rather they are influenced by the gender ideals we have come to accept as normal and proper and by the social structural constraints we experience.

Like Bob, participants in both groups did not hold one view of masculinity or sexuality; different masculinities and sexualities were continually constructed throughout participants’ lives. Participants’ constructions of masculinity were influenced by the masculine performances of other men, such as peers and fathers, but these did not solely shape participants’ constructions such that they enacted a single prescribed set of masculine traits as the Pathways Model suggests. Rather, the ideals of masculinity

260 that were influenced by other men’s performances had to be enacted and reenacted within participants’ social interactions with others, and had to hold the promise or experience of power through the accomplishment of a “creditable manhood act” (Schrock & Schwalbe, 2009, p.286) before they became central to participants’ masculine performances. In this way, masculinities were practised and either accomplished or not accomplished. This variability in the way that men construct their masculinities explains why only some sexually victimised men will become child sex offenders. Since neither SLT nor the Pathways Model adequately engages with the complexity of multiple masculinities and sexualities, they are limited in their ability to comprehensively account for the significance of social context for the development of child sex offending behaviours among some sexually abused men.

In contrast, the Power/Powerlessness theory considers that child sex offending is influenced by the centrality of sexuality to constructions of masculinity and experiences of power. As discussed previously, both groups revealed similar experiences of sexual interests, attitudes and behaviours, which supports the Power/Powerlessness theory’s assertion that child sex offending occurs within the context of normative masculine sexuality. The Power/Powerlessness theory identifies experiences of powerlessness as being implicated in the development of child sex offending behaviours. Rather than positioning them as “triggers” for offending like the preceding theories position experiences of vulnerability (Pathways) or sexual stimulation (SLT), this theory suggests that experiences of powerlessness are just as common as experiences of power in the lives of men. Therefore, it is not experiences of powerlessness themselves that precipitates offending, but rather the strength of the relationship between these experiences and men’s expressions of sexuality.

The analyses in Chapters 5 and 6 revealed that participants in both groups engaged in a variety of behaviours to alleviate feelings of powerlessness. Despite the differences in each participant’s approach to constructing his masculinity within the constraints of his social environment, it is evident that all participants engaged with various masculine resources throughout their lives when their masculinity was “in jeopardy”, or when they experienced feelings of powerlessness (Cossins, 2000, p.111). Sometimes feelings of powerlessness related directly to their histories of CSA (e.g. lack of control resulting in controlling behaviours in adulthood), while others spoke of feelings of inadequacy or incompetence in various contexts (e.g. as a result of their relationships with other men). Noticeably absent among the sample of non-offenders were constructions of masculinity centred upon sexuality, because of the fact that sexuality became a site for continued

261 experiences of powerlessness rather than power for most non-offenders (see section 5.2). By comparison, offenders consistently described the importance of sexuality as a masculine practice for experiencing control, power, acceptance from other men, and a sense of self-worth.

For example, Larry, a non-offender, grew up in a female dominated environment and described experiencing difficulties developing a masculine identity:

As a child … my father was very distant from me, emotionally, my mother … would socialise … myself and my two sisters [together], so I felt myself very drawn into this woman’s world … I remember as a child craving [my father’s] attention but not being able to achieve it … and not knowing… Was I masculine? Feminine?

Larry was abused at an older age, but described being developmentally behind his peers and unaware of the sexual nature of his abuse:

I would’ve been 14 when this first started … a very naïve 14 … a bit behind my peers.

During childhood and adolescence, Larry was socially isolated. After growing up in a female dominated environment, he craved acceptance from other men, particularly his father. In young adulthood, Larry attempted to become part of “male culture” by socialising with his father and other male peers in pubs and hotels. He learned that being able to drink a lot was held is high regard by his peers, and allowed him to experience a sense of belonging and acceptance. His efforts to interact with his father and with broader male culture meant that Larry constructed his masculine identity around his ability to tolerate alcohol, an activity that provided him with respect from peers who valorised such performances:

I learnt that … being a good drinker … was really held in high regard … in the male culture … I started to get acclamation for things that I thought I would never get acclamation for. No one would ever invite me for anything … but I was a good drinker, and, gee, people thought that was great! It was my way into the male culture.

262 Although Larry also used his employment to construct a masculine identity, and experience power, he described constant fears that other men who held more power within his workplace (e.g. employers, new staff) would discover that he was incompetent:

When a new principal would come into a school … I would feel immediately threatened, because they will find out that I'm not … competent, I can’t do this very well. They will see that I'm a worthless person … I never saw it as an opportunity to develop special skills or whatever, I always saw it as a negative.

Larry also exercised control over his emotions to present a tough and “stoic” masculinity (see section 5.3.3), as well as control over his family to present an outward appearance of competence, self-assuredness and strength:

The abuse I think has made me … very controlling … I had to control the world, and that immediately was the family … I have to control everything because if I don’t control it, you’ll see that I'm not as good as I should be.

For Larry, experiences of powerlessness in one context could be compensated for by masculine performances in another, such that Larry alleviated experiences of powerlessness according to the masculine resources that were available to him. For example, when he experienced powerlessness and/or a lack of control in his employment, he would turn to a behaviour that reliably provided him with the opportunity to experience power, such as exercising control over his family. Noticeably absent from Larry’s constructions of masculinity were sexual behaviours as a means of accomplishing masculinity. For Larry, sexuality was a site for continued experiences of powerlessness in the form of sexual dysfunction, inexperience, and feelings of inadequacy in relation to peers:

I was a very sexually naïve person… I was trying to think what … the abuse did to me … and I think I became an object, and sex for me was an object … there was this … physical pleasure of it, but … there wasn’t any great emotional commitment … Sexually, I'm not as functional as other men are. In my life, there's only really been four women that I've had sexual relations with … they’re not conquests or anything like that. It was more like ‘this is what happened’. And I was the naive partner more than the active partner ... sexual experiences were not great.

263 By considering the complexities of masculinity and sexuality, and how they are constructed within men’s lives, the Power/Powerlessness theory reveals that neither SLT nor the Pathways Model adequately explain the role of social context on the types of behaviours different men engage in to construct certain masculine identities, and to relieve experiences of powerlessness. The utility of the Power/Powerlessness theory is that it accounts for the variability of such behaviours among men to explain why only some men may engage in sex offending behaviours. Arguably, the centrality of sexuality to offenders’ experiences of CSA, coupled with the importance of sexuality as a site for their masculine social practices, more appropriately describes offenders’ experiences compared to those of non-offenders. As predicted by the Power/Powerlessness theory, for the offenders in this sample, the association between sexuality and masculinity appears to have been central to their transitions from CSA victim to offender.

7.3 Understanding the abuse as minimally harmful

Defining the abuse as minimally harmful was a second key difference that arose from a comparison of offenders’ and non-offenders’ CSA experiences. While “normalising” abuse, that is, minimising the harm caused by CSA and choosing not to self-define as a victim, has been linked to child sex offending in adolescence and adulthood by a number of studies (Bagley et al., 1994; Briggs & Hawkins, 1996; Simon, Feiring & Cleland, 2014; Vaillancourt-Morel et al., 2016), none of these studies have explained why this might be the case.

There are two elements that require explanation in relation to the fact that offenders minimised their abuse more often and for longer durations than non-offenders. Firstly, the findings suggest that certain abuse characteristics make it easier for a boy to minimise the harm caused by his experience. For example, offenders referred to the relative lack of abuse severity they experienced when describing why they did not consider themselves to be “victims”:

If you asked me, I didn't think it affected me … “I wasn't raped, it’s not really abuse” … I've spent my whole adult life going, “nothing happened.” (Butch)

Do I think of myself as a victim? No, not really … I don’t think I was extremely abused. (Andrew)

264 It is important to consider how participants came to minimise their abuse, and what role this might play in their offending trajectory. Secondly, offenders’ minimised the harm they caused to their victims when committing their offences. For example, offenders’ accounts of their experiences of perpetrating CSA included minimisations and justifications such as, “I didn’t regard the age” (Tom); “I’m not harming anyone,” (Andrew) “It’s not serious, what I'm doing” (Robert); “I wasn’t hurting her … she wanted it” (John); “She just seemed to enjoy what I was doing” (Bob); “She wanted sex” (Peter). Whether there is a link between minimising their own experiences of CSA and minimising the harm caused by their offences should, therefore, also be clarified. Whether SLT, the Pathways Model and/or Power/Powerlessness theory can explain these findings will now be considered.

SLT suggests that offenders learn various attitudes and beliefs from their abuse that are conducive to the perpetration of CSA. These attitudes and beliefs are called ““definitions”37 (see Chapter 3, s 3.2). Alternatively, offenders may learn “neutralising definitions” that justify or excuse the behaviour. The finding that offenders were more likely to experience CSA that resulted in understandings of the abuse as minimally harmful can be explained as a “neutralising definition” by SLT. Further, SLT suggests that these “definitions” will be reinforced within a victim’s social context:

exposure to these rationalisations and excuses may be through after-the-fact justifications for … others’ norm violations that help to deflect or lessen punishment that would be expected to follow. The individual then learns the excuses either directly or through imitation and uses them to lessen self-reproach and social disapproval (Akers, 2009, p.80).

Since, as previously discussed, participants most often experienced abuse within social contexts that downplayed or avoided the significance of children’s victimisation, SLT provides a simple explanation for the role of minimisation in the cycle of CSA. A child learns to minimise the abuse by observing their offenders’ justifications for the abuse. This learning is reinforced when the child observes the lack of punishment their offender

37 “Definitions” refer to normative attitudes or evaluative meanings attached to given behaviour. Akers (2009, p,258) suggests that a person is more likely to engage in deviant sexual behaviour when s/he is: differentially associated with others who engage in similar behaviour, has been or anticipates being differentially reinforced for using sexual coercion under given conditions, defines the behaviour as desirable or justified in certain situations, and is exposed to models of forcible sexual behaviour.

265 receives following the abuse. The more often this occurs, the more likely the minimisations will be learned. The child then uses these learned “definitions” when they become an offender to minimise experiences of guilt, shame, or self-reproach following their own offending. It can be expected that those who developed a minimisation approach to their own abuse may have been more likely to reproduce such “neutralising definitions” when they became offenders.

It is possible that offenders who minimised their own abuse may have found it easier to minimise the harm of their offences. While SLT presents a convincing account of the role of minimisation in the transition from victim to offender by conceptualising minimisations as learned, there are some gaps in this explanation. For example, SLT does not specify whether minimisations may affect the onset of offending, or whether they are only likely to occur after the person has already offended. Further, if those who learned “neutralising definitions” after experiencing CSA were more likely to use them when perpetrating CSA, it would be expected that all offenders who minimised their own abuse would also minimise their offending and that those who didn’t minimise their abuse would not.

However, Tom, did not minimise his experience of CSA, arguably due to the severity, duration and frequency with which he was abused, but he did minimise the harm caused by his own offending. This indicates that the link between minimising behaviours following an experience of CSA and using minimising behaviours in the commission of CSA offences may not be as straightforward as SLT’s learning approach implies. Further, there is no indication as to why only sexually victimised boys, rather than girls, would develop “neutralizing definitions” of their abuse, such that they subsequently use them when they become offenders. This leaves the gendered nature of the CSA cycle unexplained.

By comparison, the Pathways Model attributes minimisation to “cognitive distortions” developed as a result of being abused. Cognitive distortions “represent rationalisations designed to excuse individuals’ morally reprehensible actions” (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.333). The Pathways Model does not specify how such distortions may develop, or the types of CSA that may be more likely to reproduce them (e.g. severe abuse). In this Model, “cognitive distortions” that minimise the harm caused by CSA may represent one of two things: “dysfunctional implicit theories about children’s sexuality and their ability to make informed decisions about sex,” which may influence whether or not a person offends; or excuses for offending behaviour after the person has offended (Ward & Seigert, 2002, p.340). The findings above illustrate this premise, with several offenders

266 suggesting that their victim “wanted” to engage in sexual behaviours, though it is not clear whether these statements constitute “excuses” or “dysfunctional implicit theories”.

However, not all offenders minimised their experiences (e.g. Tom) and some non- offenders did minimise their experiences for varying amounts of time following the abuse (e.g. Larry, Steve). If minimisation was evidence of “cognitive distortions”, they would, arguably, be found among all offenders (and not among non-offenders). Further, as discussed throughout this chapter, attributing the source of child sex offending to a psychologically “deviant” individual with “distorted cognitions” is not a supported premise. In other words, if minimising the abuse, both as a victim and as an offender, is conceptualised as a psychological deficiency, why sexually victimised women do not develop these “distortions”, and why some non-offending men in this sample did develop them, remains unexplained.

As discussed throughout this Chapter, the offenders and non-offenders in this sample described similar experiences during their lifetimes, including childhood adversities, sexual experiences, relationships, and psychological and emotional issues. Therefore, understanding the minimisations made by offenders in this sample to be “neutralizing definitions” or “cognitive distortions” provides little analytical value for understanding their role in the commission of child sex offences.

These findings may be better explained by the Power/Powerlessness theory, which suggests that the experience of powerlessness as an abuse victim, together with subsequent experiences of powerlessness in relationships with peer groups and authority figures, may impact the transition from victim to offender. Since all experiences of CSA are likely to involve experiences of powerlessness for victims (Finkelhor & Browne, 1985; Kia-Keating et al., 2005), as expected, all participants’ experiences were characterised by powerlessness due to the inherent lack of control involved in the victim- abuser dynamic (see sections 6.1.3 and 6.3.1).

Both groups described the sexualisation of the relationship as occurring early in their interactions with their abusers, and several participants in both groups reported experiencing more coercion and threats to avoid disclosure than are commonly reported in the literature (Berliner & Conte, 1990; Colton et al., 2010; Gordon, 1990; Phelan, 1995, Plummer, 2018; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001; Sullivan & Beech, 2004). This was particularly true among non-offenders who experienced intra-familial abuse (n=3) and offenders abused in institutional contexts (n=2). Both groups also identified three factors

267 as facilitating their abusers’ success in grooming them: their own vulnerabilities, the abuser’s social status and power, and the broader social context at the time which masked the significance of CSA for victims. These three factors kept non-offenders in the “relationship” with their abusers. For both offenders and non-offenders, these factors minimised participants’ avenues to seek help and deterred disclosure.

Although it is not possible to objectively compare participants’ experiences of powerlessness, the findings suggest that the non-offenders in this sample, rather than offenders, experienced greater levels of powerlessness as a result of being abused. In other words, non-offenders’ abuse involved characteristics (e.g. longer durations and frequencies, more severe abuse) that would arguably have heightened experiences of powerlessness. Offenders’ greater likelihood to minimise the harm caused by their experience of CSA, may therefore, be due to the relatively lesser degree of powerlessness experienced.

An alternative explanation for these findings, however, is that certain CSA experiences may affect the social practices available to a sexually victimised boy. Choosing not to define the abuse as harmful or abusive, and simultaneously controlling others’ perceptions of him by concealing, or suppressing, his victimisation, may be one means by which a sexually victimised boy alleviates experiences of powerlessness. For example, Woods’ (2017) analysis of men’s perceptions of myths surrounding male rape highlight how normalising an abusive experience may enable a sexually victimised man to protect his masculine status:

a man is able to hold his own power and control by the way he portrays himself around others: if he is able to resist the feminizing aspects that are often associated with victimization (especially rape victimization), he maintains control over his masculinity because he has successfully maneuvered around anything that might challenge it. …. The rejection of this victimization is his power and control. On the other hand, though, his power and control is also innately linked to other men’s perceptions of his performance. If other men can see through this act – if the man has not hidden his victimization well enough, or allowed himself to be affected in a way that complicates his own understanding of his masculinity – he has lost his control (Woods, 2017, p.17).

For example, consistent with this pattern of behaviour, after his experience of abuse, John said:

268 The biggest fear I had, was the other boys. I was far more afraid of them finding out than the Brothers abusing me … There were some boys who were singled out as being Brother so-and-so’s bum boy, and they were almost ostracised and that by the other boys. Because if you hung around with a poof then obviously you're one … I was absolutely terrified that any of the boys may have noticed something, but I had learned to sort of be cool when there's trouble around … tough it out … act normal, be cool, don't let anything show ... I was a nervous wreck inside, but just tried not to show it … I tended to keep the boys that I knew from the Brothers sort of at arms length, you know, I was friendly with them, but I never made a point of hanging out with them.

John’s account describes how he feared perceptions of weakness, victimhood, and homosexuality if other boys found out about his abuse. By presenting an unaffected, “tough” and “cool” persona around the other boys, John attempted to hide his victimisation and in so doing, resisted the “feminising aspects” of victimhood that could threaten his masculine status. Since John’s “power and control were directly linked to other men’s perceptions of his performance,” minimising the harm caused by the abuse appeared to offer him an opportunity to achieve a degree of masculine status (Woods, 2017, p.17). Minimising the harm caused by CSA, therefore, appears to be better understood as a particular practice used by some participants to take control of their abusive experience. This may be easier to achieve with less severe forms of CSA.

Offenders were more likely to describe CSA that involved less severity, shorter durations and less frequency, which may explain why offenders were more likely to minimise their CSA than non-offenders in this sample. This does not mean that those who experience more severe or prolonged abuse will not attempt to minimise their abuse as a means of dealing with their feelings of powerlessness. But the success of this practice may be related to the abuse characteristics experienced, with less severe and prolonged abuse that is ended by the victim rather than the abuser making it easier for a victim to successfully deny his victimisation and present to other boys and men a masculine performance that is not characterised by victimisation (e.g. weakness or vulnerability).

Minimisation may be especially important for some victims who are abused by men. While both offenders and non-offenders may have adopted normalising behaviours because of their homosexual abuse, two factors may have increased the likelihood for offenders to do so. Firstly, as discussed, offenders were more often aware of the sexual

269 nature of the abuse at the onset of their CSA. Offenders may, therefore, have immediately understood the connotations of homosexual abuse, meaning that they may have more readily experienced a threat to their masculine status. As previously discussed, while offenders were more likely to describe concerns over sexual orientation following the onset of abuse, non-offenders more often described confusion surrounding the nature of their experiences (see sections 5.1.1 and 6.1.1, Age at onset).

Awareness of the sexual and abusive nature of their CSA was a further difference between Robert’s and Sabai’s accounts of FPCSA. While Sabai viewed his abuse as extremely damaging, he was unaware of the sexual nature of his abuse when it began, and remained unaware for approximately 10 years (until the onset of adolescence). By comparison, Robert’s understandings of his abuse were shaped by his social context, and broader cultural perceptions of FPCSA as evident in Robert’s accounts of his experiences of disclosure in section 6.1.5. Because people’s reactions to Robert’s disclosures often minimised the harm or severity of his abusive experience, this appeared to have affected his interpretation of his abuse. Robert described feeling confused about the abusive nature of his experience due to the cultural expectations of men as sexually dominant (see section 6.2.1) and that he felt complicit in the abuse because he experienced some physical pleasure (see section 6.1.1, 6.1.3).

Robert’s disclosure experiences align with Denov’s (2003) findings that negative responses to disclosure, particularly from professional support persons, result in male victims questioning or denying their abuse:

These participants noted that prior to disclosures, their sense of the sexual abuse experience was already uncertain, and they frequently questioned whether they had truly experienced “sexual abuse”. (p.57).

While Robert’s experience of FPCSA contrasts with Sabai’s in terms of their perceptions of the abuse, offending participants who were abused by men also experienced reactions to disclosure that minimised their abusive experiences, along with feelings of complicity in the abuse because of experiences of physical pleasure.

A second reason offenders may have been more likely to normalise their abuse is that offenders in this sample were more likely to describe growing up in “male dominated” social contexts. The pressure to adhere to masculine (hetero)sexual ideals may have been stronger for these participants as a result. For example, more offenders than non-

270 offenders described family contexts characterised by dominant and/or violent fathers who taught participants that men “are in charge”, “are the boss”, “don’t show emotion”, “don’t cry”. By comparison, non-offenders were more likely to describe growing up in female-dominated households, and to describe their relationships with their fathers as distant.

While peers were highly influential on both offenders’ and non-offenders’ understandings of culturally acceptable masculine social practices, the influence of peers on offenders’ masculine performances may have been more immediate and tangible since this group were, overall, less socially isolated.38 Peers were more readily available to “threaten” offenders’ masculine performances, or to “unmask them as feminine” (Kimmel, 1994, p.148; Cossins, 2000). Indeed, offenders’ hyper-masculine home lives coupled with peer influence suggests that proving that they were indeed “men” within their peer group39 may have been more important to them since it was an issue highlighted more often by offenders than non-offenders40:

I was the eldest son, and the footy player, and so you had to be a man, you couldn't cry … I would’ve been a good soldier, because I’d be shit scared but I would’ve done it anyway because my mates did it. (Butch, offender).

[Sex] was like everything else, if you want to be part of this mob, you do it. If you don’t, you’re bloody weak. “We don’t need people like you, get out, we can go and find somebody else.” (Joe, offender)

By comparison, non-offenders less often described a need to “prove” their manhood:

I never felt the need to profile my masculinity in any way, it just was never an issue for me. Some [men] do feel threatened in their masculinity, but that’s because they require this feeling of masculinity, and I don’t. (Adrian, non- offender)

38 Six non-offenders described social isolation during adolescence and adulthood vs. 3 offenders. 39 See, for example, Chapter 6, section 6.3.1; section 6.4.1. 40 See Chapter 6, section 6.3.1. 271 Masculinity… means the manliness of man. I was never, have never and will never be a masculine man … I just went through life surviving. I didn’t have time to think about all those things. (TML, non-offender)

Normalising or minimising the harm caused by CSA may, therefore, have offered offenders the chance to preserve their masculine status among their peers.

Nonetheless, for both offenders and non-offenders, peer reinforcement of acceptable forms of masculinity coupled with experiences of CSA resulted in enduring feelings of being “different” to their male peers (7 non-offenders, 6 offenders), feelings of inadequacy or not being “good enough” (4 non-offenders, 5 offenders), and/or experiences of being intimidated by other men (4 non-offenders, 4 offenders). This led to difficulties developing male relationships for participants in both groups, but particularly for the non-offenders. By comparison, many offenders described being adaptable to the social context in which they found themselves (n=6). They were more likely to rely on other boys and men throughout the lifecourse for help and/or protection, direction, and for feelings of belonging (n=6). It is possible, therefore, that offenders’ reliance on other boys and men for a sense of belonging and direction increased the importance they placed on constructing a masculinity that adhered to dominant ideals of manhood, such that demonstrating heterosexuality and control (i.e. hiding their victimisation) became central to their constructions of masculinity. Thus, minimisation of abuse may be associated with a greater adherence to masculine social practices that accrue power to the individual. Still the question remains, why sex with children? This issue is addressed directly in the next section.

While it appears that minimising the abuse is a social practice for protecting a victim’s masculine status, the Power/Powerlessness theory can explain patterns of abuse experienced by offenders that are less likely to fit within the general pattern of offenders’ accounts, such as Tom’s. Tom’s abuse was characterised by a lack of sexual desensitisation, lack of grooming and greater sexual awareness at the onset of abuse. While he defined his abuse in sexual terms like most of the offenders in this sample, he experienced a long duration (4 years) with frequent and severe incidences of abuse. The duration, frequency and severity of Tom’s abuse point to experiences that were characterised by extreme powerlessness. He could not, therefore, as easily minimise the harm caused by his abuse. For Tom, this led to enduring feelings of a lack of power and control throughout his life,

272 There’s nothing to take control of … I never trusted anyone else, I never trusted the adults.

Tom’s lack of control had implications for how he related to other boys and men throughout his life. While offenders who experienced less severe and less prolonged forms of abuse could rely on minimising the harm caused by the abuse to reassert their power and construct masculinities that withstood policing by other boys and men, Tom’s account described consistent experiences of powerlessness within peer relationships, romantic relationships, and employment. This stark difference between Tom’s account and that of the other seven offenders highlights that control (through minimising the abuse) may not be possible for all offenders. It will depend upon the nature of their CSA experiences, and will be more easily accomplished by those with less severe and prolonged CSA experiences.

From the perspective of Power/Powerlessness theory, then, reasserting control and protecting one’s masculine status through minimisation may reflect the types of masculinity that sexually victimised boys construct—those that are characterised by control, strength, and sexual practices that accrue experiences of power. In particular, it is important to consider whether a victim understands his abuse to be sexual in nature as well as whether he minimises his experiences of CSA, rather than considering these factors independently.

Taken together, sexual practices that are characterised by control and practices that reject victimisation (such as denial, controlling emotions, fighting, risk taking, homophobic attitudes, demonstrating (hetero)sexual interest, sporting prowess) point to the construction of certain types of masculinity, and the performance of certain types of masculine social practices, that may be associated with the transition from victim to offender.

Overall, by focusing on powerlessness and sexuality as the central features of abuse that impact the transition from victim to offender, the Power/Powerlessness theory explains the common pattern of abuse among offenders’ accounts, as well as the outliers since the theory proposes that sexuality and powerlessness must be considered together. The Power/Powerlessness theory accounts for the abuse characteristics that are most likely to result in victims understanding their experience as sexual. Within the framework of powerlessness, minimisation can be viewed as a means for victims to reassert control over their victimisation. For others, such as Tom, who experienced

273 relatively more powerlessness as a result of more severe and prolonged experiences of CSA, powerlessness has implications for victims’ relationships with other boys and men throughout their lives.

7.4 Explaining the relationship between powerlessness, sexualities and sex offending against children

The preceding sections have identified the means by which offenders’ understandings of their abuse as sexual and/or as minimally harmful may be implicated in the transition from victim to offender. The Power/Powerlessness theory’s emphasis on masculinity and sexuality has thus far provided the most thorough explanation for the findings in this study. The theory suggests that a boy’s interpretations of his abuse as sexual affects his developing sexuality, such that he uses sex to alleviate feelings of powerlessness when his masculinity is threatened, and when other means by which to prove his masculinity are unavailable.

It is also possible to conceptualise the minimisation of abuse as a practice that is used to reassert power after abusive experiences. This appears to be dependent upon the severity of the abusive experience (with less severe abuse making this process easier), and the type of masculinity the victim is striving to accomplish (with those practicing tough, dominant, heterosexual masculinities being more likely to use minimisation as a form of control).

However, it is important to acknowledge that this explanation could just as easily apply to sexually victimised boys who become sex offenders against adult victims. Since this thesis aims to explain the cycle of CSA specifically rather than sex offending more broadly, this section will consider whether current theories of the cycle of CSA (SLT, Pathways, Power/Powerlessness) can specifically account for why some men choose to sexually offend against children, and in what contexts this occurs.

SLT assumes that victims choose to sexually abuse children because they learn from their abuse that a child is an appropriate sexual partner. Such attitudes are theorised to be reinforced within their social contexts. There is some explanatory value to this theory, since some offenders believed that children are appropriate sexual partners. For example, several offenders mentioned that they viewed their child victims as sexual objects once the girls began to develop the attributes of adult women. Peter mentioned that girls “were having sex when [he] was at school”, and referenced several cases 274 portrayed in the media of older men marrying young girls, indicating a belief that sexual activity between adults and girls was not unusual.

The key flaw in SLT’s explanation of child sex offending is that it focuses on CSA as a learned behaviour, rather than a sexual behaviour. In doing so, it overlooks the gendered social context of CSA and the power dynamics inherent in the sexual abuse of children. Indeed, there was little evidence that participants in this study believed that children were appropriate sexual partners because of what they learned as a result of being sexually abused. As discussed in section 6.4, there were very few similarities between offenders’ experiences of CSA and their subsequent offending behaviours. Rather, the choice of child victims was more reflective of sociocultural representations of children as sexual objects, and sociocultural sexual practices (discussed below).

By comparison, the Pathways Model suggests that children are chosen as sexual partners based on opportunity as well as sexual and/or emotional needs. Consistent with this theory, all offenders attributed their choice of child victims to sexual need (n=8), some to emotional need (n=4), and many to opportunity (n=7). However, the idea that sexual need is a key factor that influences child sex offending is problematic. On the one hand, the Pathways Model describes child sex offending behaviours as “deviant” and “abnormal.” On the other hand, it attributes motivations for CSA that could just as easily be attributed to sexual practices with adults (sexual and/or emotional need). For example, emotional need was often associated with both offenders’ and non-offenders’ experiences of consensual sexual behaviours with adults. By attributing the same motivations for sexual contact with children as those for sexual contact with adults, the theory cannot explain how child sex offenders differ from non-offending men, and why their behaviours are defined as “deviant.”

Further, the Pathway Model emphasises opportunity as being influential in the choice of a child victim. This coincides with situational accounts of offending (e.g. Clarke, 1997) which suggest that factors in offenders’ immediate environments can greatly impact whether or not they will engage in criminal behaviour. In the case of child sex offending, factors such as access to children and opportunity to abuse children (e.g. ability to be alone with children) have been identified as influential in the commission of child sex offences. They have also been implicated in the likelihood that non-contact internet child sex offenders (e.g. child pornography viewers) will commit contact offences (Babchishin, Hansen, & VanZuylen, 2015; Bourke & Hernandez, 2009; Long, Alison & McManus, 2012; Shelton, Eakin, Hoffer, Muirhead, & Owens, 2016).

275 However, two offenders in this sample, Tom and Andrew, did not have immediate access to children, so Tom sought victims who were previously unknown to him, while Andrew was convicted of online offences. A lack of access to children can, therefore, simply result in an offender using available resources to gain access to children (as discussed in section 2.6). Conversely, most non-offenders in this sample had as much access to children as offenders, including their own, a partner’s or a friend’s children, or children they worked with (e.g. as teachers or youth workers) (n=8). Many non-offenders’ narratives revealed opportunities for offending that have been identified in past research, including being alone with children in their home, car, work environment, or another isolated place (Colton, Roberts & Vanstone, 2010; Smallbone & Wortley, 2001; Elliott, Browne & Kilcoyne, 1995). For example:

I would go off and take the four kids, just myself, on holidays. I’d leave [my wife] at home, she’d work, and off we’d go. (Ruben, non-offender)

A mate one time, I’d gone ‘round his house, and then he said he had to go out, and he knew all about it [history of CSA] as well, and he just left his two kids with me. (Steve, non-offender)

Because offenders without access can create opportunities to abuse children, while those with access do not necessarily abuse children, it is important that explanations of the choice of a child as a victim do not place too much emphasis on these factors. As described by Adrian, a non-offender:

Any man that’s been abused, any man at all, gets opportunities with kids. If they want to take them or not, it depends somehow on your own feelings and intentions.

Thus, while opportunity and situational factors are necessary for CSA to occur, they cannot in themselves explain why an offender might choose a child as a victim which limits the explanatory value of the Pathways Model. Nonetheless, the Model has some explanatory potential for offenders who identify a sexual interest in children specifically. For the one participant in this sample who revealed this specific interest, Andrew said that sexual need, a desire for intimacy, and opportunity were all relevant to his offences. He described viewing children in a way that a person may view an age-appropriate sexual or romantic partner who could satisfy sexual and emotional needs:

276 There is an attraction there to children. And it's not every child, it's not like … I’m sure you’re not attracted to every man you come across, you probably don’t want to have sex with every man you come across … it’s specific things, or that unexplainable attraction you might have towards someone.

Overall, the three factors of the Pathways Model for explaining children as sexual partners (sexual need, emotional need, opportunity) do not adequately explain the underlying motivation for offenders’ choice of children in this study. Because these motivations are equally relevant for choosing age-appropriate sexual partners, this leaves the “deviant” nature of offenders’ choice of children unexplained. If, however, these factors are considered not as evidence of psychological “deficiency” or “deviance”, but as common experiences for all men, they may hold greater explanatory value, as will be discussed below.

The Power/powerlessness theory suggests that sexual behaviours with less powerful sexual objects, such as children, may allow some men to more easily accrue social power when they feel threatened by the masculine social practices of other men. This is more likely to be the case if their sexual practices are strongly linked to perceptions of power and powerlessness and if other masculine resources are unavailable.

The fact that sexuality was important to the masculine performances of the offenders in this sample has been discussed. Offenders’ narratives also revealed experiences of both power and powerlessness in relation to the masculine practices of other men throughout the life course. Consistent with the Power/Powerlessness theory, several participants described their victims as sexual objects (n=4), while others regarded the age of their victims as insignificant, or “overlooked” whether or not their victims were developmentally mature enough to engage in sexual behaviours (n=4). The fact that few offenders engaged in behaviours to discourage disclosure, because they believed that their victims were interested in or enjoyed the sexual encounters, also highlights an implicit understanding by these offenders that children are sexual beings, capable of “enjoying” adult-child sex. These views may also be associated with offenders’ minimisation of the harms of their own CSA experiences, such that they are able to more easily rationalise or justify their behaviours through the processes of “self-grooming” (see section 6.4.2).

In some cases, a strong link between masculinity and sexuality was evident which allowed some offenders to more easily accomplish masculinity (n=4) when other

277 masculine resources were unavailable. For example, Butch grew up in an environment characterised by traditional forms of masculinity, where men (e.g. Butch’s father, grandfather, uncles) were in charge, aggressive and sometimes violent, and the expression of emotion was considered a weakness:

It was really a man’s domain, and the women were the cooks and the cleaners, you know, it was just that classic sixties Australia.

From a young age, Butch was aware that his father engaged in frequent extra-marital sex despite his mother’s objections:

He was a bus driver then, and I know what he was doing, he took tours to Cairns … and he was only in his 20’s, so he’s womanising … they're fighting because [mum] doesn't want him to go ... And I saw that as how men, well, men do what they want to do, men are the boss.

When playing football during adolescence, Butch’s success in physical strength, endurance, skill and toughness was met by respect and esteem from his male peers in a competitive male environment. When Butch was sexually abused (for the second time) at 12 years of age, he was aware of the sexual nature of the abuse at the time. Although he disclosed to a peer, he was ridiculed regarding his sexuality (“‘Ahhh you're a poofter!’”), since, in Butch’s peer group, CSA was considered to be the fault of the victim. He subsequently experienced issues of self-blame and confusion over his sexuality:

I blamed myself, I went, ‘I must be a poofter’, this is how I used to talk, ‘I'm a poofter’.

Butch strove to prove that he was not “different” to his peers by adhering to the ideals of heterosexual masculine sexuality, including the dominance of men in sexual encounters, the importance of a ceaseless pursuit of sex, and the belief that men should be sexually experienced and uninhibited. Butch had numerous sexual partners and defined sex in terms of control. At this time, he also constructed his masculinity around aggression and violence. Being “known” for mental and physical toughness, and being able to withstand and inflict physical pain in contexts that valorised these performances, provided Butch with ways in which he could reliably experience power:

278 It was around that time I was getting teased, like blokes would go, ‘Oh how’s Dicky [Butch’s abuser]?’ You know? And I was a really good fighter, I’d just started fighting, and I was known.

As a result, Butch constructed a tough, stoic, heterosexual masculinity that reinforced his dominance over women, and over other men. His career in professional sports during young adulthood epitomised each of these practices, while respect from teammates was earned through success on the sports field, and the demonstration of heterosexual prowess in social contexts:

It really became like a notch on your belt … ‘How many did you get this week?’ You know? ... I felt inadequate. Some of these [teammates] were massive men, and I felt like a boy … but I had to do it … 100 percent it's related to not wanting to lose face.

Butch’s accounts of gaining the approval of his peers suggest that, within his social context, he was able to prove his masculinity through various masculine resources including professional sports, fighting, and practices that confirmed his heterosexuality (e.g. homophobia, sexual dominance and sexual experience). He actively engaged in constructing his masculinity around these ideals during adolescence and young adulthood. However, during young adulthood a knee injury impeded Butch’s ability to continue his success in sports. When his girlfriend became pregnant around this time, he referred to his fathers’ and grandfathers’ masculine practices as wage-earners, providers and “heads of the family” when describing how he began to construct a different type of masculinity, one in which he was a provider for his family, and the “man” of the house:

I went, ‘my grandfather’s a light horseman, the girl’s pregnant, you've got to marry her’… Work, do the right thing, be a husband, be a father, and I did.

Nonetheless, enduring feelings that he was not living up to the masculine standards of other men meant that powerlessness was central to Butch’s experiences:

We bought the worst house in an affluent area … it was the best block of land, but I went, ‘Oh I don't fit in here. Again’… I was just back in my childhood. I felt lesser than.

279 No longer being able to prove his masculine credentials through sport, and feeling unsuccessful in constructing his masculinity around being a “provider,” Butch often turned to aggression or violence in order to feel a sense of power. Within the constraints of his social environment, coercive or abusive sexual behaviours also afforded Butch the opportunity to experience power:

If a woman loved you she’d be prepared to do anything, so complete control … [My wife] hated [sex] … We had sex, I remember, 20 times in 6 years … how we’d end up having sex would be, she’d be asleep, or pretend she’s asleep, and then I’d have sex with her. And really, I, sort of, I think that's abuse.

Butch and his wife ultimately divorced. It was after the breakdown of his marriage that Butch’s sexual offending began, when Butch had periodic weekend custody of his daughter. Butch described the abuse of his daughter in the same terms as the abuse of his wife, where control and sexuality were central to his experiences:

It’s like me abusing [my wife]. It’s the same … what I found, and still sort of find with sex: what are boundaries? ... When I abused my daughter, I’d go to this blackness, and it was like she wasn’t my daughter, it was a body … I wasn’t interested in her as a 7-year-old … it was when she started to develop.

After defining his own experiences of CSA in sexual terms, particularly after being ridiculed about his sexuality by peers following his disclosure, sexuality became an important site for Butch to prove his masculinity. Sexual success, particularly in young adulthood, and the resulting esteem from peers, was important to his constructions of masculinity throughout his life. When he failed to accomplish a sense of manhood in other areas, such as playing sport or providing for his family, Butch turned to sexuality as a means of constructing masculinity and experiencing power. The abuse of his daughter was one such expression, since it conformed to his understanding of masculine sexuality as heterosexual and dominant. He did not view his victim as his daughter or as a child; rather she was a sexual object with whom he could be dominant and experience power.

Butch and other participants (n=5) turned to sexual practices with children in the absence of other means of proving their masculinity or feelings of failure when they attempted to do so. For example, lack of access to other masculine resources such as work for Bob, or sport for Butch, were evident around the time that they committed CSA. Thus, child

280 sex offending became a resource for accomplishing and affirming masculinity and experiencing power when “particular social conditions present[ed] themselves [and] when other masculine resources [we]re unavailable” (Cossins, 2000, p.128). The strength of the link between masculinity and sexuality, therefore, appears to provide the most coherent explanation of whether a man will choose to commit child sex offences. Six out of eight offenders revealed this link (see section 6.2.1).

By contrast, the experience of Adrian, a non-offender, provides an example of how a sexual attraction to children, access, and opportunity (as described by the Pathways Model) may fail to lead to child sex offending if the link between sexuality and masculinity is weak. Adrian described a sexual attraction to children (specifically adolescent boys), but had not acted on this attraction, nor had he used child exploitation material to explore this side of his sexuality:

There was a couple of [my son’s] friends that I was very attracted to … I didn’t touch them.

Adrian was abused at 14 years of age, but he described being unaware of the sexual nature of his abuse. Although he understood his abuse as an expression of love rather than as sexual, he acknowledged the harm caused, perhaps because he experienced more severe abuse for a longer duration, and grooming behaviours that affected his understandings of the abuse:

My son was 15, 16 or so, and I was surrounded by his little mates, all of whom were getting very interesting. If I’d wanted to it would’ve been fairly easy to take my chance there … because I was attracted to them as well … I don’t know if it’s because it happened to me, but … it would be so … selfish … That’s not what stopped me. It was more, that’s not what love is.

Sexuality was not discussed in Adrian’s childhood home, and Adrian was largely isolated from peers. During later adolescence, he became more aware of the social dominance of heterosexual masculine sexuality as a result of being bullied by his peers for appearing homosexual. Adrian described being afraid that his peers would discover that he was in fact homosexual, and that he had been sexually abused, which exacerbated his feelings of powerlessness in relation to his sexuality. During young adulthood, Adrian was the less powerful partner in sexual relationships, and described seeking sexual relationships in which he would be “dominated”:

281 You start with abuse and … you’re doing what someone else wants, there's loss of power and control, and that continued through my mid-twenties. I had relationships, I would seek relationships, where I would be dominated by people.

Sexuality continued to be a site in which he experienced powerlessness throughout young adulthood, since it was “unacceptable” to be homosexual:

At the time, [homosexuality] wasn't discussed in my family, I’d never heard of it ... I was perfectly aware at school that it was not a good thing to be. But that was Northern England in the seventies … if I was now 17, 18 in Sydney … it would be much more accepted. I was never accepted when I was that age.

Although Adrian identified as “90 percent gay” he described the possibility of exploring his homosexuality as being purely sexual which he did not pursue since he found the love and companionship he desired with his wife:

I do have desires, but they’re sexual urges. In my relationship with my wife, my needs for companionship are totally satisfied. If I were to go out looking for a boy or a man, it would only be for the sex … It’s a horrible thought that my marriage might end. It sounds stupid for a guy who says he’s 90% gay.

Since Adrian chose not to use masculine sexual practices for accomplishing masculinity and power, he constructed his masculinity around success in employment (being a “workaholic”) and sport (although he had limited success during childhood). When confronted with experiences of powerlessness he was likely to engage in work or running to alleviate such feelings:

Basically, I was working or I was running I wasn’t doing anything else … so I had two areas of success, which built up the self-esteem, and just stabilise your psychology I reckon.

Since Adrian had not defined his CSA experiences in sexual terms, and since sexuality had been a continued site for experiences of powerlessness during his youth, sexuality was not as central to his constructions of masculinity as work or sport in adulthood.

282 Adrian’s account suggests that the link between masculinity and sexuality is a necessary pre-condition for subsequent sex offending by men sexually abused as children. If Adrian’s account is considered in terms of the Pathways Model’s explanation of CSA, arguably Adrian should have offended, since both opportunity and sexual need were present (despite his emotional needs being met by his wife). When Butch’s and Adrian’s accounts are compared, it is apparent that the factors identified by the Pathways Model (opportunity, sexual need and/or emotional need) were present in both men’s choices of sexual partners, while only Butch committed child sexual abuse. The presence of each of these factors in both accounts highlights the explanatory utility of the Power/Powerlessness theory, which argues that the choice of a child is related to the status of children as less powerful partners with whom a man can “confirm his manhood through the reproduction of normative masculine sexual practices” (Cossins, 2000, p.125):

For some men it is arguable that sexual practices with … children can ensure a correspondence with the masculine sexual ideal; that is, the accomplishment of masculinity and experiences of potency are more likely to occur with those who are perceived to have less social power than the individual man in question (Cossins, 2000, p.124).

Offenders are not necessarily different from non-offenders in this sense, since as suggested by Cossins (2000), any man may choose to reassert his masculinity through sex with a less powerful partner (e.g. sex workers, pornography), so as to (more easily) accomplish masculinity, if sexual practices are strongly linked to his perceptions of masculinity.

However, the choice of a child as a sexual partner to “more easily confirm experiences of manhood and accomplish masculinity” (Cossins, 2000, p.125) was more complex for some participants who described selecting children because they provided a “safer” means for experiencing closeness and affection rather than power. In these cases, experiences of closeness were unattainable in other areas of participants’ lives. Their victims appeared to allow them to experience these emotions with a partner that they viewed to be “safer” than adults (n=3) or with whom they felt they had a “special connection” (n=2). These findings would appear to support the Pathways Model, since these accounts suggested that emotional need motivated the choice of a child, and the confusion surrounding sex and intimacy resulted in the sexual abuse of the child.

283 However, such an interpretation ignores the power dynamic between adults and children. Despite offenders’ stated motivations for sexually abusing a child (a desire for intimacy), since a child cannot consent to sex, seeking a child for this reason necessarily involves a relationship characterised by vastly unequal relations of power. Since offenders commonly cited a desire for intimacy as one of the reasons they chose to sexually abuse a child (n=4; John, Tom, Peter, Andrew), it seems important to consider these findings with respect to how intimacy is attained by men.

As discussed above, traditional ideals of manhood make the expression of emotion and the experience of intimacy complex for men (Price, 2014). Many participants in this sample described growing up in social contexts in which it was unacceptable to show emotion (5 non-offenders, 6 offenders), since this signified weakness and vulnerability. Participants’ described ridicule, or the fear of ridicule, when such emotions were expressed. Many participants revealed their inability to become emotionally close to romantic partners (section 7.2), and few offenders described romantic relationships characterised by intimacy (section 6.2.2).

Some participants engaged in casual sex or paid for sex in order to experiment with the expression of emotion and the experience of intimacy (4 non-offenders, 3 offenders). For offenders, children may have represented a similarly “safe” partner. Although not explicitly addressed by the Power/Powerlessness theory, it is possible that offenders’ choices of child victims along with needs for intimacy or emotional connection was congruent with their masculine practices by allowing them to experience forbidden emotions with partners who did not threaten to unmask them as “unmasculine” (as peers and adult partners might have). In other words, sex with child victims may be a means to safeguard their masculinity, by seeking out experiences that may threaten their masculine status (e.g. intimacy) with less powerful objects that do not represent such a threat (e.g. children).

Finally, the Power/Powerlessness theory can also account for the one offender who described a specific sexual attraction to children when sex with a child is considered within the context or normative masculine sexuality. Andrew described a specific sexual attraction to prepubescent bodies, and viewed his experiences as a sexual orientation towards children. His choice to offend online developed out of an acknowledgement that children are unable to consent to sexual behaviours. It was through child exploitation material that he could express his sexuality without coming into direct contact with children. His experience, could, therefore, be explained by the Pathways Model, because

284 of his sexual and emotional needs (his attraction to children in a romantic and sexual way) and opportunity (the availability of child exploitation material online). However, as discussed above, Adrian also identified a sexual attraction to children and opportunities to offend, but did not do so. What appears to distinguish these two participants’ accounts is the importance they placed on sexuality for the accomplishment of masculinity. Andrew described sexuality as being important to him (“I’ve always been hypersexual”), while for Adrian, sexuality was a continued source of powerlessness.

Insofar as Andrew’s sexuality was important for his constructions of masculinity, the Power/Powerlessness theory helps to understand his use of pornography in the sense that sexual behaviours with a less powerful and more compliant sexual object, such as pornographic images, may provide an opportunity for the accomplishment of masculinity (Cossins, 2010). The choice of a child is also consistent with social conceptualisations of children as sexual objects (O’Donohue, Gold & McKay, 1997; Papadopoulos, 2010; Rush & La Nauze, 2006; Tankard-Reist, 2010). For example, O’Donohue, Gold and McKay (1997, p.292) argue that “the media’s contribution to sexual abuse might occur through the depiction of children as sexual objects.” The authors examined magazine articles from 5 popular magazines41 across four decades42 to reveal that children were depicted sexually43 in 1.5 percent of the advertisements containing children, and there was a significant increase in the number of times children were depicted sexually over the four decades.

In a discussion paper for the Australia Institute, Rush and La Nauze (2006) provided evidence for the sexualisation of children in advertisements, magazines and television programs. By reviewing the frequency and content of these images, the authors demonstrated that “[i]mages of sexualised children are now common enough that they may appear ‘normal’” (p.7). More recently, in her review on the impact of the sexualisation of young girls on violence against women, Papadopoulos (2010) argued that increasingly,

41 Magazines included Playboy, Newsweek, Cosmopolitan, Ladies Home Journal, and Sports Illustrated. 42 Years included 1958-1959; 1968-1969; 1978-1979; 1988-1989 43 Six raters who were blind to the experimental hypothesis rated the advertisements based on whether the child appeared to be aged 16 or younger; “the pose or posture of the child, an emphasis on presenting the child as adult-like or mature, the pairing of a sexually provocative adult with a similarly posed child, and the degree of nudity of the child; if nudity was present, it was included in the criteria if it was judged as aimed at being enticing, arousing, or sexually suggestive” (p.294). 285 children are being portrayed in ‘adultified’ ways while adult women are ‘infantilised’. This leads to a blurring of the lines between sexual maturity and immaturity and, effectively, legitimizes the notion that children can be related to as sexual objects (p.6).

A similar finding was reported by Tankard-Reist (2010, p.21) when examining the content of popular magazines:

The young women in these magazines are supposed to be over eighteen. In some cases, this is questionable. But even if they are over eighteen the models are often posed and styled to look much younger, with toys, braces, pigtails and other accoutrements of childhood ... In the words of Pamela Paul (2005, p.198), “the desire for a child and the desire for a childlike woman blur and overlap” in these materials.

It is perhaps unsurprising, then, that among a non-incarcerated, non-clinical, community sample of 173 men, Wurtele, Simons and Moreno (2013) found that 9.8 percent of men anonymously reported some sexual interest in children (from sexual fantasies, to a likelihood of having sex with a child if they were guaranteed no punishment). Conversely, the findings from this study suggest that CSA may be committed by men who do not have a sexual attraction to children specifically, which coincides with previous findings (Blanchard et al., 2001; Maletzky & Steinhauser, 2002; Seto & Lalumiere, 2001). Findings such as these have led Walker and Panfil (2017, p.47) to conclude that:

Attractions to minors in and of themselves … would appear to induce neither antisocial tendencies nor offending … consistent with what we already know about adults’ enactments of … sex acts with individuals who have not consented or cannot consent: these are not acts borne of sexuality or attraction, but of power and control. It is quite illustrative that the majority of adult sex offenders who target children are not primarily sexually attracted to children … [M]inor attraction by itself seems neither necessary nor sufficient to explain interpersonal forms of sexual offending.

The link between masculinity and sexuality, therefore, may be more indicative of who will become a child sex offender than whether a person is sexually attracted to children. The Power/Powerlessness theory revealed that the link between experiences of power and

286 sex with children is not always straightforward, with only half the offenders describing experiences of power or control when abusing their victims. However, the inherent power dynamic in the adult/child relationship suggests that even when offenders framed their offending in terms of attempts to experience intimacy, their choice to attempt intimacy with children who held less social power than them due to their age, size, and vulnerability highlights that all experiences of child sex offending are related to the experience of power for offenders, and powerlessness for victims.

287 Chapter 8: Conclusions

This aim of this thesis was to identify the factors that may affect the transition from victim to offender among sexually victimised men, and to contribute to theoretical understandings of why there may be a cycle of CSA among men by investigating how the lived experiences of CSA differ among boys. Two research questions were developed in order to meet this aim:

1. What objective characteristics of boys’ experiences of CSA affect their likelihood of sexually abusing children in adulthood?

2. Are there differences in the interpretation of their CSA experiences that affect the transition of victim to offender?

While the objective characteristics of boys’ experiences of CSA had limited utility in distinguishing offenders’ from non-offenders’ CSA experiences, the findings from this qualitative analysis of the life stories of 10 non-offenders and 8 offenders revealed two overarching differences between their accounts:

a) Offenders’ experiences of CSA were more likely to lead to understandings of the abuse as (i) sexual in nature; and (ii) non-abusive or involving minimal harm; and b) offenders were more likely to use sex for the alleviation of negative emotional states, the experience of power, and the construction of certain types of masculinity.

SLT, the Pathways Model and the Power/Powerlessness theory were examined for their ability to explain the transition from victim to offender in this particular sample. Although SLT and the Pathways Model offered some explanatory utility, overall, only one theory was capable of adequately explaining the interpretations of abuse that distinguished offenders from non-offenders: the Power/Powerlessness theory. The Power/Powerlessness theory’s focus on both powerlessness and self-definitions of the abuse as sexual appears to adequately account for the cycle of abuse among this sample.

The findings from this sample revealed the importance of considering how theories of the cycle of CSA account for:

288 (i) Different interpretations of the characteristics of sexual abuse (i.e. as sexual in nature and/or non-abusive), and how these interpretations may indicate possible causal pathways from victim to offender; (ii) The gendered nature of the cycle of CSA, and the social context in which victims come to make sense of their abuse such that some sexually victimised boys make the transition from victim to offender; and (iii) Why understanding CSA to be sexual or non-abusive may lead to offending behaviours that are expressed sexually, and specifically with children.

Although SLT and the Pathways Model provided insight into some elements of the cycle of CSA, the Power/Powerlessness theory accounts for the role of social context in the transition from victim to offender. Rather than focusing on the individual, the Power/Powerlessness theory acknowledges the social construction of gender, and the relationship between power and sexualities. As discussed, both groups in this sample described remarkably similar experiences across a range of domains, including childhood adversities, sexuality, relationships, and psychological and emotional issues. They also described experiences of parental separation or divorce, physical or emotional abuse, neglect, bullying, social isolation and socioeconomic disadvantage during childhood. Both groups described similar sexual interests, sexual experiences, and sexual attitudes. Both groups engaged in platonic and romantic relationships, and had similar frequencies of marriage, divorce, and paternity (see Tables 5.1, 6.1, Chapters 5 and 6). Both groups described varying degrees of social inclusion and isolation, although offenders often described wider social networks than non-offenders. All participants described experiences of psychological and emotional upset, trauma, and distress, including depression, anxiety, suicidal ideation or attempt, and self-abuse.

These findings are consistent with previous studies of CSA victims, including those that have documented childhood adversities in the lives of CSA victims, and those that describe the psychological and emotional harms associated with CSA (Bagley, Wood, & Young, 1994; Collings, 1995; Connolly & Woollons, 2008; Finkelhor, 1990; Friedrich et al., 2001; Higgins & McCabe, 2003; Jespersen, Lalumiere & Seto, 2009; Kessler, Davis, & Kendler, 1997; Langevin et al., 1989; Lee et al., 2002; Silverman et al., 1996; Widom, 1996; Widom & Ames, 1994; Yancey & Hansen 2010).

The findings are also consistent with patterns among community samples of men’s transitions from childhood to adulthood, and their engagement in social life, including

289 studies that have analysed men’s sexuality, and studies of changes in men’s sexual desire over time (Ahlers et al., 2011; Beutel, Schumacher, Wediner & Brahler, 2002; Templeman & Stinnett, 1991). The similarities across groups supports the notion proposed in Chapter 3 that child sex offenders are not “different” from non-offending men (Briere & Runtz, 1989; Cossins, 2000; Freel, 2003; Hartill, 2011; Hayashino et al.,1995; Pierce & Pierce, 1985). In fact, their experiences are similar to those of sexually abused non-offenders, as well as non-sexually abused men. Thus, explanations of the cycle of CSA that attribute the transition from victim to offender to various childhood adversities, psychological or sexual abnormalities, or relationship deficiencies (such as SLT and the Pathways Model) are limited in their explanatory value.

SLT and the Pathways Model consider that the sexual abuse of children can be attributed to learned behaviours associated with adult-child sex, experiences of vulnerability, confusion regarding sex and intimacy, sexual and/or emotional need, and opportunity. Yet these theories also described child sex offenders and child sex offending as “abnormal” and “deviant.” This suggests that these characteristics would only be found among child sex offenders, yet, as the findings from this study show, all such behaviours were exhibited by non-offenders in their consensual sexual experiences with age appropriate partners, as well as by offenders in their consensual sexual encounters with age appropriate partners. While these characteristics may be influential in some men’s sexual behaviours, generally speaking, they do not explain why only the offenders in this sample sexually abused children.

The strongest element of the Power/Powerlessness theory that is not adequately addressed by the other theories is the social construction of masculinities and sexualities. Sexualities are developed and reproduced in interactions with others (Alldred & Fox, 2015; Cossins, 2000; Jackson, 2006). Offenders revealed the importance of other men and boys (e.g. fathers and peers) in defining acceptable forms of masculine sexuality. Because more offenders were aware of the sexual nature of their abuse, and defined their abuse in purely sexual terms, they are likely to have been influenced by the sexual ideals promulgated by their abuser, other boys and other men, and more conscious of masculine sexual performances.

They may, therefore, have felt a greater need to prove their masculinity through sex, particularly since abuse by a male abuser (which 7 out of 8 offenders experienced) contravened the dominant ideals of (heterosexual) masculinity in most offenders’ social contexts. Indeed, offenders were more likely to describe sexual behaviours as a means

290 of “fitting in” with their peers, while failure to meet these expectations was associated with being ridiculed, ostracised or socially isolated. By comparison, non-offenders were more likely to describe their sexual experiences in terms of disappointment, incompetence, and/or dysfunction.

While participants’ social contexts changed over time, most continued to construct masculinities using various resources, including success in work or sport, control over themselves or their environment, aggression or risk-taking behaviours. An important difference between the two groups, however, was that offenders were likely to rely on sexual behaviours to derive a sense of power and accomplish masculinity while non- offenders were less likely to do so. As the examples discussed in sections 7.2 and 7.4 revealed, when offenders had no other means for constructing a masculine identify, they turned to specific sexual behaviours to attain a sense of power within their social contexts. It is important to emphasise, however, that this suggested link between self- definitions of CSA as sexual in nature and the development of a masculine identity focused on sexuality requires further investigation with larger, more representative samples of CSA victims.

Section 7.3 also identified that offenders were more likely than non-offenders to experience CSA that made it easier to minimise its abusive nature such that they were less likely than non-offenders to self-define as victims. While no theory directly addressed this issue, consistent with the Power/Powerlessness theory, it is possible that when a man normalises or minimises the abusive nature of CSA, he is regaining some of the power he lost during his abuse. By denying his victimisation and presenting to other boys and men a masculine performance that is not characterised by victimisation (e.g. weakness or vulnerability), he is able to protect his masculine status (Artime et al., 2014; Crete & Singh, 2015; Woods, 2017).

The social contexts of offenders during adolescence and adulthood emphasised a type of masculinity as strong, dominant, non-emotional, and sexually uninhibited or experienced. Offenders placed a great deal of emphasis on sexuality as a site for proving their manhood, but also described feelings of inadequacy in relation to their peers. In such an environment, denial of the abusive nature of CSA may reflect attempts to maintain masculine status by avoiding perceptions of weakness. Since sexuality was an important site for performing masculinity for offenders, minimising their experiences may also have deflected allegations of homosexuality.

291 Minimising the abuse may be easier to achieve when the abuse does not involve penetration or force, is experienced infrequently or for a short duration. It is also possible that minimisation may reinforce understandings of the abuse as purely sexual, may also reduce offenders’ realisations of the harm inflicted on their own victims, as well as justify their offending. Arguably, the role of self-definitions of CSA in the transition from victim to offender is an important avenue for future research.

Overall, the findings from this study suggest that this transition may be explained with reference to (i) whether a boy chooses to (or is able to) minimise the abusive nature of his experiences; (ii) whether or not the abuse is defined in sexual terms; (iii) the link between sexuality and constructions of masculinity, and (iv) the behaviours a sexually victimised boy engages in within the constraints of his social context to prove his masculinity. The Power/Powerlessness theory provides significant insights into the findings from the present study by considering social context (of abuse and offending), gender (the construction and performance of masculinity) and sexuality.

However, while the Power/Powerlessness theory is a general theory of child sex offending, it was applied to the cycle of CSA in this study. Applying this theory to data from larger, more representative samples would help to clarify whether the interpretations of the Power/Powerlessness theory developed in this study adequately explain the cycle of CSA (rather than child sex offending more broadly). Several areas for clarification in future studies that apply the Power/Powerlessness theory to the cycle of CSA include:

(i) The suggested link between an individual’s self-definitions of his abuse as sexual in nature and the development of a masculine identity focused on sexuality (e.g. whether a victim’s understanding of his abuse as sexual in nature impacts his use of sex as a means to alleviate experiences of powerlessness throughout his life); (ii) The utility of conceptualising the minimisation of abuse as a demonstration of control, and the suggested link between self-definitions of abuse as minimally harmful and the construction of a masculine identity focused on control (of self, others, the environment); and (iii) whether sexually abusing children as a means to accrue individual power adequately explains the choice of a child victim for offenders who have a specific sexual preference for children.

292 8.1. Limitations, Implications and Recommendations for Future Research

There are several limitations to this qualitative study. First, the study involved a small, unrepresentative sample of offenders and non-offenders such that the findings cannot be generalised to broader populations of victimised men. While this study aimed to explain the patterns of abuse experienced by victims and offenders in this sample, further research with larger more representative samples of victims and offenders would be required to confirm the conclusions drawn in the present study.

Second, the offenders in this study were men who had been convicted of child sex offences which means the experiences of undetected child sex offenders were not able to be included. This means that the sample may be reflective of the more serious or persistent offenders who came to the attention of authorities, although there are many other factors, such as victim underreporting and attrition rates, that determine whether or not an offender is reported, charged, prosecuted or convicted. For example, six out of eight of the offenders in this sample could be classified as serious and persistent due to the repetitive nature of their offending against multiple victims and/or the length of time and frequency with which they offended.44

Including offenders who had been convicted also means that their accounts may have been shaped by their contact with both the criminal justice system and treatment providers (see Chapter 4, section 4.4.3). Further, as a condition of gaining ethics approval from UNSW, all participants had to have undertaken treatment. This meant that participants’ accounts had been influenced to some extent by the understandings they had developed during treatment. It is possible, then, that participants’ accounts are reflective not only of their experiences, but of how they came to understand their experiences during treatment. This does not necessarily detract from the accuracy or validity of their accounts. Rather, depending upon the extent of their treatment, their accounts may reflect different degrees of understanding, or different abilities to articulate the complexity of their experiences, (see Chapter 4, section 4.4.3).

Finally, the study relied on self-reports from adult victims whose experiences of CSA occurred between 26 and 64 years ago (M=47.5). Issues of accuracy and the limitations of memory are significant for retrospective studies involving self-report. However, since this study was concerned with the lived experiences of abuse and subsequent offending,

44 See Chapter 6, section 6.4. 293 accuracy was less important than participants’ perceptions, self-definitions, and understandings. Nonetheless, the findings from this study cannot be generalised to broader populations of victims or offenders.

By analysing the key themes in this qualitative study, and comparing them to the findings of other studies that have involved more representative samples, the accounts of the 18 participants contribute novel insights into the experiences of male victims of CSA. Further, the findings highlight important areas for future research using larger and more representative samples of victims and offenders. The evaluation of current theoretical explanations for CSA also indicates how the findings from this small sample could be applied to broader populations by situating explanations for the cycle of CSA in a broader sociocultural context. In turn, these findings may have relevance for policy and legislative approaches to the prevention of CSA and treatment for victims and offenders, as discussed below.

For example, although research into men’s experiences of CSA have increased in recent years, the experiences of girls and women are still more often represented in the CSA literature. The qualitative approach used in this study facilitated an in-depth analysis of the complexities, commonalities, and variances among men’s experiences of abuse. For instance, this study is one of the first to document adult male victims’ experiences of grooming, by revealing the nature and extent of grooming of male victims and allowing tentative conclusions to be made about the immediate and long-term impacts of grooming. Since grooming laws have been enacted in most Australian states in attempts to prevent the occurrence of CSA (see Appendix P for examples), these findings suggest areas for future research that have the potential to inform policy and legislative reform.

For example, the nature of the grooming behaviours described by the men in this study is inconsistent with the behaviours defined under section 66EB(3) of the Crimes Act 1900 (NSW) as acts of grooming. NSW’s legislation limits the prohibited grooming behaviours to: exposing a child to indecent material and/or providing a child with an intoxicating substance (Crimes Act 1900 (NSW), s 66EB(3)) compared to other states such as Victoria which captures a broader range of grooming behaviours (see below).

The preceding analysis highlighted that grooming is very often a prolonged process that may involve various seemingly innocuous behaviours, such as befriending a child, taking an interest in them, providing them with gifts and so on. While not a representative

294 sample, it is worth noting that only three out of eighteen victims in this study were provided with intoxicating substances, while only two were exposed to indecent material.

The inherent risk in broadening the definition of grooming behaviours in the NSW legislation is that normal adult-child relationships and legal behaviours may find themselves under the scrutiny of the law (Gillespie, 2002). Broadening the definition may also fail to provide any further protection to children since it is often difficult, if not impossible, to detect and identify many of the subtle behaviours involved in the grooming process as acts of grooming prior to the commission of the subsequent sex offence (see sections 5.1.3; 6.1.3; 6.4.2). This may be particularly true for female offenders, where, for example, in many cases of maternal CSA the abuse may be “subtle, involving behaviours that may be difficult to distinguish from normal caregiving” and may be “concealed within a loving, caring, protective role [where] access to a child for these [abusive] purposes is easy and ‘normal’” (Kelly et al., 2002, p.425; Etherington, 1997, p.110; Deering & Mellor, 2007; Lawson, 1991; Robinson, 1998).

However, there is a similarly significant issue with restricting the legislation to behaviours that do not adequately reflect the true nature of grooming experiences (Randhawa & Jacobs, 2013). Gillespie (2002, p.419) notes that “if one of the purposes of the criminal law is to protect the vulnerable it would be appropriate for the law to intervene some time before the sexual abuse of the child.” By significantly limiting the acts that constitute grooming, particularly in light of the preceding findings, the ability of NSW’s grooming law to act as a preventative measure is drastically reduced. By comparison, section 49M of the Crimes Act 1958 (Victoria) broadens the criminalised behaviours that constitute grooming, where a person

over the age of 18 years must not communicate, by words or conduct, with a child under the age of 16 years or a person under whose care, supervision or authority the child is (whether or not a response is made to the communication) with the intention of facilitating the child's engagement in or involvement in a sexual offence with that person or another person who is of or over the age of 18 years.

This extends the prohibited grooming behaviours from exposing a child to indecent material or alcohol to communicating in any way with a child. It may thus capture the establishment of a relationship with the child, or giving gifts or treats, with the intention of engaging in later sexual activity. This better reflects the nature of grooming behaviours that were experienced by participants in this study. Future research into the nature,

295 stages, short- and long-term impacts of grooming among larger and more representative samples of men, and of women, could provide a means to better inform grooming legislation in NSW such that it could more adequately capture the types of grooming behaviours engaged in by child sex offenders so as to better protect children from the harms of grooming as well as the subsequent harms of CSA (Plummer, 2018).

This study is also among the few qualitative studies that have examined men’s lived experiences of CSA disclosure, including an analysis of barriers to disclosure, who men disclose to, when they disclose, and their experiences of others’ responses to their disclosure. It was suggested in Chapters 2 and 5 that experiences of disclosure may impact the transition from victim to offender in two ways: (i) if childhood disclosures are met with negative or unsupportive responses; and/or (ii) if a victim delays his disclosure until after he has been apprehended for sexually abusing children he may develop coping mechanisms that increase his likelihood of sexual offending.

While this study was not able to provide evidence of the impact of these factors on the transition from victim to offender, the findings contribute to the literature surrounding the importance of disclosure for subsequent psychological and social outcomes (Bagley et al., 1994; Easton, 2014; Herbert et al., 2009; Lorentzen, Nilsen & Traeen, 2008; O’Leary & Barber, 2008; O’Leary, 2009; O’Leary et al., 2010; Ullman, 2007). Participants’ experiences of treatment following disclosure also appear to have had a significant impact on their outcomes. Further research into disclosure, and the role of treatment in the transition from victim to offender could shed more light on the complexities of disclosure for victims.

Most importantly, the present study has implications for understanding the transition from victim to offender. The present study identified that particular abuse characteristics of offenders resulted in the minimisation of their abusive histories and definitions of abuse in sexual terms. The study revealed that these understandings meant that offenders and non-offenders constructed very different masculine identities and sexualities, and relied on a range of different behaviours to relieve experiences of powerlessness throughout their lives. Offenders constructed masculinities and sexualities that were characterised by control, in particular, control of self, their environments, and others. Sexual behaviours with children, and other sexual behaviours, provided a means to alleviate experiences of powerlessness, and to accomplish masculinity.

The Power/Powerlessness theory provided a theoretical framework within which to understand the pathway by which a male victim of CSA might become an offender. While

296 this theory was considered most apt to explain the cycle of CSA among this sample, further applications of this theory to data from larger, more representative samples could further clarify:

(i) the suggested link between self-definitions of CSA as sexual in nature and the development of a masculine identity focused on sexuality;

(ii) the role of minimisation in subsequent offending; and

(iii) whether accruing power (or alleviating powerlessness) adequately explains child sex offending among sexually victimised offenders who have a sexual preference for children.

While the Power/Powerlessness theory is a general theory of child sex offending, this is the first study to qualitatively examine the utility of the Power/Powerlessness theory as an explanatory tool for the cycle of CSA. Future research using larger, more representative samples of victims and offenders would be useful to further evaluate the utility of this theoretical framework for understanding the transition from victim to offender.

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346 Appendices

Appendix A: UNSW HREC Ethics Approval

347 348 349 Appendix B: Safety Protocol

INTERVIEW SAFETY PROTOCOL Safety Protocol for Interviews with Non-Offending Participants a. The student researcher will alert her supervisors of when and where she will be conducting interviews in advance of each interview. b. The student researcher will contact her supervisors as soon as practically possible after the interview to debrief and discuss any concerns. c. The time and location of the interviews will be communicated to a third party [contact details to be provided to supervisors]. The researcher will communicate with this third party prior to commencing the interview and after the interview is completed. d. During interviews with non-offenders, the student researcher will carry a mobile phone at all times in case of emergency. Should anything untoward happen, or the researcher becomes uneasy for any reason, the interview will be terminated immediately and the interviewer will leave. Her supervisors will be contacted as soon as practically possible. e. The student researcher will dress appropriately for the context of the interviews. f. The student will only conduct interviews during daylight hours. g. The student will only conduct interviews with non-offenders in public places, primarily the UNSW library. h. Risk management strategies and interview safety have been discussed between the researcher and her supervisor, and both parties are clear as to procedure. The student researcher will practice interviewing techniques and conduct ‘pilot’ interviews with her supervisor before commencing the research, including how to respond to rejections, unpleasant reactions, and emotional or unsettling situations.

Safety Protocol for Interviews with Offending Participants a. The student researcher will alert her supervisors of when and where she will be conducting interviews in advance of each interview. b. The student researcher will contact her supervisors as soon as practically possible after the interview to debrief and discuss any concerns. c. The time and location of the interviews will be communicated to a third party [contact details to be provided to supervisors]. The researcher will communicate with this third party prior to commencing the interview and after the interview is completed. d. During interviews with offenders, the student will ensure that she familiarises herself with the security personnel on duty during the interview. She will further familiarise herself with the physical layout of the interview space, and where the security personnel will be located during the interview should an emergency situation arise. Should anything untoward happen, or the researcher becomes uneasy for any reason, the interview will be terminated immediately and the interviewer will leave. Her supervisors will be contacted as soon as practically possible. e. The student researcher will dress appropriately for the context of the interviews. f. The student will only conduct interviews during daylight hours. g. The student will only conduct interviews with offenders in locations within Long Bay Correctional Facility that provide security personnel. h. Risk management strategies and interview safety have been discussed between the researcher and her supervisor, and both parties are clear as to procedure. The student researcher will practice interviewing techniques and conduct ‘pilot’ interviews with her supervisor before commencing the research, including how to respond to rejections, unpleasant reactions, and emotional or unsettling situations.

350 School of Law 08th September, 2014

Ms Carolyn Penfold Room 245, Level 2, Law Building Faculty of Law University of New South Wales Sydney, NSW, 2052

Dear Human Research Ethics Committee,

I refer to the research project entitled ‘The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?’ by PhD Candidate Malory Plummer, supervised by Associate Professor Anne Cossins and Professor Janet Chan.

The interview safety protocol developed for this project has the full support of the UNSW School of Law, subject to the individual consent of the potential participant(s).

……………………………… Signature

Ms Carolyn Penfold Head of School School of Law

351 Appendix C: Updated Safety Protocol for Interviews in WA

Safety Protocol for Interviews with Community-Based Offending Participants in Western Australia 2017

a) All participants will be community-based child sex offenders who are currently receiving treatment and voluntarily agree to participate in the project.

b) Screening questionnaires will be reviewed and approved by supervisors prior to an interview being scheduled.

c) Interview times and locations will be arranged and confirmed prior to travel from Sydney to Adelaide.

d) The student researcher will alert her supervisors of when and where she will be conducting interviews in advance of each interview.

e) The student researcher will contact her supervisors as soon as practically possible after the interview to debrief and discuss any concerns.

f) The time and location of the interviews will also be communicated to a third party- the researcher’s sister, Sharne Plummer, who has agreed to accompany the researcher to South Australia during the interview process. The third party will remain within a short distance from the interview location during the interview in case of an adverse event.

g) During interviews, the student researcher will carry a mobile phone at all times in case of emergency. The mobile phone will be kept on the table during the interview. Should anything untoward happen, or the researcher becomes uneasy for any reason, the interview will be terminated immediately and the interviewer will leave. The third party contact will be called in an adverse situation during the interview. Supervisors will be contacted as soon as practically possible.

h) The student will only conduct interviews in public places, such as libraries or community centres.

i) During interviews, the student researcher will arrange the interview environment such that she is sitting closest to the door, and ensure that she is not blocked by furniture or the room's layout from easily and safely exiting the interview room if necessary.

j) The student researcher will dress appropriately for the context of the interviews.

k) The student will only conduct interviews during daylight hours.

l) Risk management strategies and interview safety have been discussed between the researcher and her supervisors, and all parties are clear as to procedure.

352 Appendix D: Recruitment Invitation- Non-Offenders 2014

Approval No HC 14212

THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender? I am Associate Professor Anne Cossins from the Faculty of Law at the University of New South Wales. I am hoping to learn about whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect future child sexual offending behaviours among men.

Participation in this study will involve one or more interviews of approximately 2 hours in duration. The interview(s) will address your experiences of child sexual abuse, and your life experiences as a child and an adult. The interview aims to investigate the meanings you ascribe to those experiences.

To be eligible to participate in this research, you must: (i) be 18 years of age or older; (ii) have adequate English to provide written informed consent and to participate in the interview; (iii) do not have a recognised mental illness; (iv) have a self-reported experience of sexual abuse as a child, where a. Child sexual abuse encompasses all contact and non-contact sexual behaviours between a child and a person at least 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse b. ‘Child’ is defined as person under the age of 18 in accordance with NSW law; (v) not have been convicted for a sexual offence against a child during adolescence or adulthood; (vi) have received, or are currently receiving, treatment or professional support in relation to an experience of child sexual abuse; and (vii) be available to participate in an interview in Sydney.

This research has received ethics approval (approval no. HC14212) from the Human Research Ethics Committee at UNSW. I cannot and do not guarantee or promise that you will receive any benefits from this study.

If you would like to take part in this study, please email Anne Cossins at [email protected] for a copy of the Participant Information Statement and Consent form, and a Pre-Interview Questionnaire.

353 Appendix E: Recruitment Invitation- Offenders 2014

Approval No HC 14212

THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

I am Associate Professor Anne Cossins from the University of New South Wales. I am hoping to learn about whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect future child sexual offending among men.

Experiencing child sexual abuse (CSA) is frequently cited as a key factor for becoming a child sexual offender in adulthood. However, there is no consensus about whether a CSA ‘cycle’ actually exists. This research aims to contribute to understandings of the potential progression from victim to offender among men, by analysing differences in the lived experience of CSA between victimised men who become offenders in adulthood, and victimised men who do not become offenders.

Participation in this study will involve either one or two interviews of approximately 2 hours in duration per interview, and you can choose whether to participate in only one interview or both interviews. The interview will address your experiences of child sexual abuse, your life history as a child and an adult, and your perpetration of child sexual abuse in adulthood. The interview aims to investigate the meanings you ascribe to your experiences.

With your permission I would like to take notes and audio-record the interview so that my notes are more accurate. I cannot and do not guarantee or promise that you will receive any benefits from this study. This research has received ethics approval (approval no. HC14212) from the Human Research Ethics Committee at UNSW.

(v) have perpetrated a sexual offence against a child in adulthood for which you have been convicted.

If you would like to take part in this study, please let the Corrective Services Case Management Officer know of your interest by giving them your full name. The case management officer will

354 let me know that you are interested. Please note that this research is not being conducted in conjunction with Corrective Services, and you are under no obligation to participate. I cannot and do not guarantee that you will receive any benefits from participation in this study.

Your participation in this study will remain confidential, and your name will only be used to arrange a convenient time to meet you and discuss the details of the interview. During that meeting, you are free to decline to take part in the study. If you decide you wish to participate, you can provide informed consent and the interview will be conducted. It is important that you understand that I have an obligation to report any criminal activity you talk about for which you have not been convicted, so I would only like to talk about offences of which you have been a victim or of which you have already been convicted.

355 Appendix F: Pre-Interview Questionnaire

Recruitment Questionnaire The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Survivors

The purpose of this questionnaire is to ensure your safety and well-being as a participant in the present study. If you are uncomfortable providing details about yourself, or answering particular questions, then feel free to leave those sections blank.

• Name:

• Age:

• Occupation:

• Relationship status:

• Do you have children?

1. Have you had any counselling, therapy or professional help regarding your experiences of child sexual abuse? If so, how long for? Are you currently receiving help?

2. Do you have any diagnosed mental health issues? If so, have you received, or are you receiving, treatment for this issue?

3. Are there people in your life who know about your abuse and provide you with care and support, such as a friend, partner or counsellor?

4. Would you be interested in being interviewed about your life and your experiences of child sexual abuse?

5. If you would be interested in being interviewed, what is the best way for me to contact you? Please tick your preference and provide details so that we can discuss your questionnaire and the interview process.

Phone number:

Email address:

Postal address:

Thank you for taking the time to complete this questionnaire. Once you’ve completed it, you can email it back to me either at this email address, or at m.plummer@unsw,edu.au, or you can mail it to Anne Cossins, Faculty of Law, UNSW, Sydney 2052. If you have any questions about the survey please feel free to email me any time.

356 Appendix G: Participant Information Statement and Consent Form- Non- Offenders 2014

School of Law Approval No 14 212

THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT AND CONSENT FORM

The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

Participant selection and purpose of study You are invited to participate in a study of the lived experience of child sexual abuse. My name is Malory Plummer and I am a PhD student from the University of New South Wales under the supervision of Associate Professor Anne Cossins and Professor Janet Chan. I hope to learn whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect the likelihood of a victim of abuse becoming a child sexual offender in adulthood. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you experienced child sexual abuse, but did not go on to offend against children in adulthood.

Description of study and risks If you decide to participate, I will ask you to attend one or more one-on-one interview(s) about your experiences of child sexual abuse, and your social circumstances as both a child and an adult. Each interview is expected to take approximately 2 hours. With your permission I would like to take notes and audio-record the interview so that my notes are more accurate. If you would prefer not to be audio-recorded, only written notes will be taken.

The sensitive nature of the issues to be discussed in this interview may result in discomfort or negative emotional reactions. You are free to stop the interview temporarily or entirely discontinue participation at any time. If you would like to talk to someone about any emotions that arise from the discussion, you can call 24 hour counselling services: Beyond Blue (Phone number 1300 22 4636), or the NSW Rape and Domestic Violence Services (Phone 1800 737 732).

Confidentiality and disclosure of information

357 Any information that is obtained in connection with this study and that can be identified with you will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission, except as required by law. It is important that you understand that I have an obligation to report any criminal activity you talk about for which you have not been convicted, so I would only like to talk about offences of which you have been a victim. If you give me your permission by signing this document, I plan to publish the results as a PhD thesis. In any publication, information will be provided in such a way that you cannot be identified. You will be given a pseudonym at the beginning of the research, and any information that could reveal your identity will be omitted. You will also be given the opportunity to review transcripts, and anywhere that you have been directly quoted, before submission of the thesis.

Recompense to participants I cannot and do not guarantee or promise that you will receive any benefits from this study.

Complaints may be directed to the HREC Coordinator, The University of New South Wales, Sydney NSW, Australia 2052 (phone +61 2 9385 6222 or email [email protected]

Feedback to participants Findings from the study will be made available at the completion of the project. Please indicate on page 3 if you would like to receive a summary of findings.

Your consent Your decision whether or not to participate will not prejudice your future relations with the University of New South Wales. If you decide to participate, you are free to withdraw your consent and to discontinue participation at any time without prejudice.

If you have any questions, please feel free to ask Associate Professor Anne Cossins (email: [email protected]) or Professor Janet Chan (email: [email protected]) will be happy to answer them.

If you would like to take part in this study, please sign the consent form on page 3 and return the signed form (scanned as PDF) by email to [email protected] or by post to Associate Professor Anne Cossins, School of Law, University of New South Wales, SYDNEY NSW 2052.

You will be given a copy of this form to keep.

358 THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT AND CONSENT FORM (continued) The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

Declaration by Participant

I have read the Participant Information Sheet or someone has read it to me in a language that I understand. I understand the purposes, procedures and risks of the research described in the project. I have had an opportunity to ask questions and I am satisfied with the answers I have received. I freely agree to participate in this research project as described and understand that I am free to withdraw at any time during the project without affecting my future care. I understand that I will be given a signed copy of this document to keep. I consent to have the interview audio-recorded for transcription purposes. I consent to written notes only being taken during the interview. I would like to receive a summary of findings at the completion of this research. Send feedback to the following address:

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature of Research Participant Signature of Witness

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. (Please PRINT name) (Please PRINT name)

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Date Nature of Witness

359 REVOCATION OF CONSENT The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

I hereby wish to WITHDRAW my consent to participate in the research proposal described above and understand that such withdrawal WILL NOT jeopardise any treatment or my relationship with The University of New South Wales.

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature Date

…………………………………………………… Please PRINT Name

The section for Revocation of Consent should be forwarded to Associate Professor Anne Cossins, Room 333, School of Law, The University of New South Wales, UNSW Sydney, NSW 2052. It can also be emailed to [email protected].

360 Appendix H: Participant Information Statement and Consent Form- Offenders 2014

School of Law Approval No 14 212

THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT AND CONSENT FORM

The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

Participant selection and purpose of study You are invited to participate in a study of the lived experience of child sexual abuse My name is Malory Plummer and I am a PhD student from the University of New South Wales under the supervision of Associate Professor Anne Cossins and Professor Janet Chan. I hope to learn whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect the likelihood of a victim of abuse becoming a child sexual offender in adulthood. You were selected as a possible participant in this study because you experienced child sexual abuse, and went on to sexually offend against children in adulthood.

The sensitive nature of the issues to be discussed in this interview may result in discomfort or negative emotional reactions. You are free to stop the interview temporarily or entirely discontinue participation at any time. If you would like to talk to someone about any emotions that arise from the discussion, you can call the 24 hour Mental Health Helpline (Phone 1800 222 472), which is staffed by trained mental health nurses who can provide information, advice and referral on to mental health services. You can also contact any staff member in your facility at any time for a referral to face- to-face psychological services.

Confidentiality and disclosure of information

361 Any information that is obtained in connection with this study and that can be identified with you will remain confidential and will be disclosed only with your permission, except as required by law. It is important that you understand that I have an obligation to report any criminal activity you talk about for which you have not been convicted, so I would only like to talk about offences of which you have been a victim or of which you have already been convicted. If you give me your permission by signing this document, I plan to publish the results as a PhD thesis. In any publication, information will be provided in such a way that you cannot be identified. You will be given a pseudonym at the beginning of the research, and any information could reveal your identity will be omitted. You will also be given the opportunity to review transcripts, and anywhere that you have been directly quoted, before submission of the thesis.

Recompense to participants I cannot and do not guarantee or promise that you will receive any benefits from this study.

Complaints may be directed to the Complaints Management Officer who you contacted to participate in this study. The Officer will then pass your complaints on to the HREC Coordinator, The University of New South Wales, Sydney NSW, Australia 2052 (phone +61 2 9385 6222 or email [email protected]

Feedback to participants Findings from the study will be made available at the completion of the project. Please indicate on page 3 if you would like to receive a summary of findings.

Your consent Your decision whether or not to participate will not prejudice your future relations with the University of New South Wales, or Corrective Services NSW. If you decide to participate, you are free to withdraw your consent and to discontinue participation at any time without prejudice.

If you have any questions, please feel free to direct them to the Case Management Officer, who will pass them on to Associate Professor Anne Cossins (email: [email protected]) or Professor Janet Chan (email: [email protected]), who will be happy to answer them.

If you would like to take part in this study, you will be asked to sign the consent form on page 3 during the meeting with the researcher, but before the interview is conducted.

You will be given a copy of this form to keep.

362

THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

PARTICIPANT INFORMATION STATEMENT AND CONSENT FORM (continued) The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

Declaration by Participant

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature of Research Participant Signature of Witness

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. (Please PRINT name) (Please PRINT name)

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Date Nature of Witness

363

REVOCATION OF CONSENT The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Victims: When Does a Victim Become an Offender?

…………………………………………………… .……………………………………………………. Signature Date

…………………………………………………… Please PRINT Name

364 Appendix I: Interview Schedules for Offenders & Non-Offenders

Interview Schedule Non-Offenders

PURPOSE Thank you so much for giving me your time today. I thought I’d just run through a few things before we start that you would have read in the information and consent form. So the purpose of this interview is to talk about your life history and your experiences of child sexual abuse. There are no wrong answers, and there is no judgement in this room, I am here to learn from you, and nothing you say will be discussed with anyone in a way that could identify you. Everything you say will be kept private. You also don’t have to answer any questions I might ask that you’re not comfortable with- its entirely up to you what you want to share.

BREAKS AND WITHDRAWAL We’ll be talking about some sensitive topics today, and its really important that you feel safe. So if I say or do anything that makes you feel unsafe or uncomfortable, not only is it ok for you to tell me, but you should tell me. If at any stage you’d like to take a break, or to stop the interview altogether, please feel free to. There’ll be no negative consequences if you decide that you no longer want to participate at all either.

REPORTING OBLIGATIONS While I’m in no way implying that you would have committed any criminal offences in your life, I just want to let you know that I have an obligation to report any criminal activity you talk about that you have not been convicted of, so I’d only like to talk about offences that you have been a victim of, or that you’ve already been convicted of.

ME I’m also aware that there may be things that you don’t feel comfortable discussing with a woman, and that’s absolutely fine.

STRUCTURE Lastly, in terms of the structure of the meeting today, I think it would be good to have a break after about an hour, and then if you're happy to we can finish up after around 2 hours. But if you need a break, please feel free to take one at any time. And if you’re feeling a little bit shakey or emotional afterwards, please feel free to stick around for a while.

RECORDING As you know, I’d like to record the interview. Its just so that I’ll have accurate notes of what was said. Are you comfortable with me recording this meeting? TURN ON RECORDER

QUESTIONS So before we start do you have any questions about anything?

So, if you’re ok with it, I thought we could start with your childhood. So, are you able to give me an idea of what your childhood was like? Where did you grow up, what was your family like when you were a child?

Childhood & Adolescence x where they grew up x family structure and dynamics x schooling x peer relationships (learning about masculinity and sexuality x interests and hobbies x self-descriptions of who they were as a child and what their childhood was like

365

Adolescence x And as you got a bit older, during your teenage years, was your family structure the same? Did you live in the same area?

x Did you go to the same school or a different one? What was school like around this time?

x What kind of things did you do (with your friends) or where did you hang out as a teenager? Did you play sports? Did you have a job?

x Did you have the same friends in adolescence as you did in childhood? Are you able to recall in what ways your relationships with your friends in adolescence were different to those with your friends in childhood?

x Are you able to remember what kinds of people around that time you looked up to? Other kids? Friends? Family? Celebrities? Adults? How come?

x How would you describe your adolescence generally?

Sexuality and Abuse Experienced x first sexual experience (abusive or non-abusive) x development of sexual experience and conceptions of sexuality while growing up x first abusive sexual experience as a child x subsequent sexually abusive experiences growing up

CSA x age (of themselves and their sexual partner/ abuser) x relationship to their offender/sexual partners x duration of sexual experiences/abuse x frequency x whether any aspects of abusive experiences were pleasurable x whether they told anyone about the abuse x how the abuse (and other sexual experiences) ended x participants thoughts and feelings about these experiences both at the time and now.

Investigate what it is about the participants’ experience of CSA that differs from any other sexual behaviours they experienced during childhood/ adolescence.

CSA x Would you be comfortable talking a bit about your experience of abuse? o [If not]- that’s ok, we can come back to it a bit later if you’d like to. Perhaps you could tell me a bit about what life has been like for you as an adult? So things like your work, your interests or hobbies, your relationships with friends/family, any romantic relationships, or any parts of your life that have been particularly memorable for you.

x Are you able to tell me who it was that abused you?

366

x Are you able to tell me around about when it started?

x Do you remember how it started?

x Would it be ok if you just told me in very general terms what that person did to you?

x Do you remember how long it lasted for?

x Do you remember how it ended?

x What was the most difficult part of the experience for you?

x Do you remember what you thought about the experience at the time? o Was there anything that shaped your understanding of the abuse AT THE TIME? Like peers? Family? School? Media? o Do you have a different understanding of it NOW? o Has there been anything that has changed how you view the abuse as you grew up? Peers? Family? School? Media? Work? Education? o Do you think that your understandings of sexuality were affected by your experience of abuse? In what ways? Have your understandings changed since that time?

x Are you able to tell me whether there is anything that you can’t forget about your experience?

x Around this time, did you have any trusting relationships with anyone? Was there anyone you felt safe, relaxed, or cared for around?

Adulthood x current relationships (family, peers, romantic) x current employment (or employment status before incarceration) x completed levels of education x current interests/ hobbies x the effect the participant feels the abuse has had on their life x the role of the criminal justice system in their abusive experience (if applicable) x the effect of treatment/counselling

o Do you remember when you found relationships like this?

Adulthood x Could tell me a bit about what life has been like for you as an adult? So things like your work, your interests or hobbies, your relationships with friends/family, any romantic relationships, or any parts of your life that have been particularly memorable for you.

x Are you able to tell me about how you think your experience of abuse may have affected aspects of your life?

x Are you able to tell me a bit about how you think your experience of abuse has affected your relationships with other people in your life?

367 Demographic Information x age x location and living arrangements x ethnicity x education x occupation x relationships (romantic and non-romantic) x interests or hobbies.

Closing We’ve been talking for about 2 hours now, so if you’re happy with it I think it might be a good time to finish up for the day. But before we do, is there anything else you’d like to add?

I’d like to thank you so much for giving up your time and for sharing your experiences with me. You’ve given me a great deal of insight, and I really appreciate your willingness to be so open with me. As I mentioned, everything you’ve said today will be kept private

Can I ask whether you think this is something you would do again in the future? Would you like to have a cup of tea before you head off? Would you mind if I gave you a call/email in a couple of days just to see how you're doing?

368 Interview Schedule- Offenders

ME I’m also aware that there may be things that you don’t feel comfortable discussing with a woman, and that’s absolutely fine.

RECORDING As you know, I’d like to record the interview. Its just so that I’ll have accurate notes of what was said. Are you comfortable with me recording this meeting? TURN ON RECORDER

QUESTIONS So before we start do you have any questions about anything?

369

Adolescence x And as you got a bit older, during your teenage years, was your family structure the same? Did you live in the same area?

x Did you go to the same school or a different one? What was school like around this time?

x What kind of things did you do (with your friends) or where did you hang out as a teenager? Did you play sports? Did you have a job?

x Are you able to remember what kinds of people around that time you looked up to? Other kids? Friends? Family? Celebrities? Adults? How come?

x How would you describe your adolescence generally?

Investigate what it is about the participants’ experience of CSA that differs from any other sexual behaviours they experienced during childhood/ adolescence.

x Are you able to tell me who it was that abused you?

370

x Are you able to tell me around about when it started?

x Do you remember how it started?

x Would it be ok if you just told me in very general terms what that person did to you?

x Do you remember how long it lasted for?

x Do you remember how it ended?

x What was the most difficult part of the experience for you?

x Are you able to tell me whether there is anything that you can’t forget about your experience?

x Around this time, did you have any trusting relationships with anyone? Was there anyone you felt safe, relaxed, or cared for around?

o Do you remember when you found relationships like this?

x Are you able to tell me about how you think your experience of abuse may have affected aspects of your life?

x Are you able to tell me a bit about how you think your experience of abuse has affected your relationships with other people in your life?

371 Offending x Could we talk a bit about your experiences of abuse as a perpetrator? o [If not]- that’s ok, we can come back to it a bit later if you’d like to. Perhaps you could tell me a bit about what your plans are for the future with work, relationships, hobbies or interests.

x Are you able to tell me who it was that you abused? o How did you know/meet them? [gaining access] o What was your relationship like with them before the abuse?

x Are you able to tell me around about when it started? o How did it start? [grooming] o Was it something you thought about before you acted on it? o What prompted the change from thinking about it to acting on it? o Do you remember what else was happening in your life at the time? Work, relationships, family, personal?

x Was it a single event or did it happen more often? [frequency]

x Would it be ok if you just told me in very general terms what behaviours were involved with the child? [acts]

x How did you feel about what was happening at the time? o How do you think the child felt? How do you know they felt that way?

x Were you concerned the child would tell someone? [compliance/disclosure] o Did you do or say anything to try to prevent them from telling anyone? o Did they tell anyone?

x Do you remember how long it went on for? o How did it end? o How did you feel once it was over?

x How do you feel about it now? How has it affected you relationships?

372 Appendix J: Updated Recruitment Invitation- Non-Offenders 2015

Approval No HC 14 212 THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

Research Project Title: The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Survivors

I am writing to let you know about a research project that you have the option to take part in. The research is being conducted by Malory Plummer, a PhD student under the supervision of Associate Professor Anne Cossins and Professor Janet Chan from the University of New South Wales. I am contacting you because I understand that you have experienced child sexual abuse, and did not go on to offend against children in adulthood.

This research is being done to learn more about whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect future child sexual offending behaviours among men.

The reason we want to know more about your life experiences, and experiences of child sexual abuse, is because it is a common belief that survivors of child sexual abuse are more likely to become child sexual offenders in adulthood. But there is no definite evidence that this ‘cycle’ exists, and your experiences may shed light on the impact of child sexual abuse for the majority of male survivors who do not go on to become offenders.

Taking part in research is always optional. We are looking for people who want to take part in this research and who: (i) are 18 years of age or older; (ii) have adequate English to provide written informed consent and to participate in the interview; (iii) do not have an untreated substance abuse or mental health issue; (iv) have a self-reported experience of sexual abuse as a child, where Child sexual abuse encompasses all contact and non-contact sexual behaviours between a child and a person at least 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse, or unwanted sexual activity between a child and a person less than 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse ‘Child’ is defined as person under the age of 16 in accordance with NSW law; (v) have not been convicted for a sexual offence against a child during adolescence or adulthood; (vi) have received, or are currently receiving, treatment or professional support in relation to an experience of child sexual abuse; and (vii) are available to participate in an interview in Sydney.

If you decide to take part in the research we would: x ask that you complete a pre-interview questionnaire designed to evaluate your suitability for the study;

373 x ask that you take part in one or more interviews of approximately 2 hours in duration. The interview(s) will address your experiences of child sexual abuse, and your life experiences from childhood to adulthood. The interview aims to investigate the meanings you attach to your experiences.

If you would like more information or are interested in being part of the research please contact:

Name: Professor Anne Cossins Email: [email protected]

Anne will then forward your email on to the student researcher, Malory Plummer, who will contact you further to discuss any questions you may have about participation in the project.

Alternatively, if you would feel more comfortable you can indicate the best way to contact you (phone number or email). This will be provided to Malory Plummer, who will conduct the interview, and she will contact you directly as soon as possible.

Preferred Name: Email: Phone:

Taking part in research is voluntary. You may choose not to take part. If you decide not to take part in this research, your decision will have no effect on your relationship with The University of New South Wales.

This research has been reviewed and approved by The University of New South Wales Human Research Ethics Committee. If you have any complaints or concerns about the research project please email [email protected] or phone +61 2 9385 6222 quoting the following number HC14212.

374 Appendix K: Updated Recruitment Invitation- Offenders 2015

Approval No HC 14 212 THE UNIVERSITY OF NEW SOUTH WALES

Research Project Title: The Impact of Child Sexual Abuse on Male Survivors

I am writing to let you know about a research project that you have the option to take part in. The research is being conducted by Malory Plummer, a PhD student under the supervision of Professor Anne Cossins and Professor Janet Chan from the University of New South Wales. I am contacting you because I understand that you have experienced child sexual abuse, and went on to offend against children in adulthood.

This research is being done to learn more about whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect future child sexual offending behaviours among men. The reason we want to know more about your life experiences, and experiences of child sexual abuse, is because it is a common belief that survivors of child sexual abuse are more likely to become child sexual offenders in adulthood. But there is no definite evidence that this ‘cycle’ exists, and your experiences may shed light on the impact of child sexual abuse for those male survivors who go on to become offenders.

Taking part in research is always optional. We are looking for people who want to take part in this research and who: (i) are 18 years of age or older; (ii) have adequate English to provide written informed consent and to participate in the interview; (iii) do not have an untreated substance abuse or mental health issue; (iv) have a self-reported experience of sexual abuse as a child, where a. Child sexual abuse encompasses all contact and non-contact sexual behaviours between a child and a person at least 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse, or unwanted sexual activity between a child and a person less than 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse b. ‘Child’ is defined as person under the age of 18 in accordance with NSW law; (v) have been convicted for a sexual offence against a child during adolescence or adulthood; (vi) have received, or are currently receiving, treatment or professional support in relation to an experience of child sexual abuse; and (vii) are available to participate in an in-person, telephone, or Skype interview.

If you decide to take part in the research we would: x ask that you complete a pre-interview questionnaire designed to evaluate your suitability for the study; x ask that you take part in one or more interviews of approximately 2 hours in duration. The interview(s) will address your experiences of child sexual abuse, and your life

375 experiences from childhood to adulthood. The interview aims to investigate the meanings you attach to your experiences.

If you would like more information or are interested in being part of the research please contact:

Name: Professor Anne Cossins Email: [email protected]

Anne will then forward your email on to the student researcher, Malory Plummer, who will contact you further to discuss any questions you may have about participation in the project.

Preferred Name: Email: Phone:

376 Appendix L: Updated Participant Information Statement & Consent- Non- Offenders 2016

The study is being carried out by the following researchers: Role Name Organisation Chief Investigator Associate Professor Anne Cossins UNSW Co-Investigator/s Professor Janet Chan UNSW Student Investigator/s Malory Plummer is conducting this study as the basis UNSW for the degree of PhD in the School of Law at The University of New South Wales. This will take place under the supervision of Associate Professor Anne Cossins, and Professor Janet Chan.

What is the research study about? You are invited to take part in this research study. You have been invited because I understand that you have experienced child sexual abuse, and did not go on to offend against children in adulthood.

To participate in this project you need to meet the following inclusion criteria: (i) be 18 years of age or older; (ii) have adequate English to provide written informed consent and to participate in the interview; (iii) do not have an untreated substance abuse or mental health issue; (iv) have a self-reported experience of sexual abuse as a child, where a. Child sexual abuse encompasses all contact and non-contact sexual behaviours between a child and a person at least 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse, or unwanted sexual behaviours between a child and a person less than 5 years older them themselves at the time of abuse. b. ‘Child’ is defined as person under the age of 16 in accordance with NSW law; (v) not have been convicted for a sexual offence against a child during adolescence or adulthood; (vi) have received, or are currently receiving, treatment or professional support in relation to an experience of child sexual abuse; and (vii) be available to participate in an interview in Sydney.

The research study is aiming to see whether certain experiences of child sexual abuse affect future child sexual offending behaviours among men. It is a common belief that survivors of child sexual abuse are more likely to become child sexual offenders in adulthood. But there is no definite evidence that this ‘cycle’ exists. This study aims to see how aspects of your life and abuse experiences impacted you as a survivor of child sexual abuse.

Do I have to take part in this research study? Participation in this research study is voluntary. If you don’t wish to take part, you don’t have to. Your decision will not affect your relationship with The University of New South Wales.

This Participant Information Statement and Consent Form tells you about the research study. It explains the research tasks involved. Knowing what is involved will help you decide if you want to take part in the research. Please read this information carefully. Ask questions about anything that you don’t

377 understand or want to know more about. Before deciding whether or not to take part, you might want to talk about it with a relative, friend, or a counsellor.

If you decide you want to take part in the research study, you will be asked to: • Sign the consent form; • Keep a copy of this Participant Information Statement

What does participation in this research require, and are there any risks involved? If you decide to take part in the research study, you will be asked to participate in one or more interviews that would take approximately 2 hours (per interview). During the interview I, Malory Plummer, will ask you questions about your life experiences, from childhood to adulthood, and your experiences of child sexual abuse. With your permission I would like to record the interview using an audio recorder. The interviews will take place in the following location: The University of New South Wales.

The sensitive nature of the issues to be discussed in this interview may result in discomfort or negative emotional reactions. You are free to stop the interview temporarily or entirely discontinue participation at any time. Unless you say that you want me to keep them, any recordings will be erased and the information you have provided will not be included in the study results. You may also refuse to answer any questions that you do not wish to answer during the interview.

You are also invited to bring a support person with you to the interview if you would like. If you would like to talk to someone about any emotions that arise from the discussion, you can call the 24 hour counselling services: Beyond Blue (Phone number 1300 22 4636), or the NSW Rape and Domestic Violence Services (Phone 1800 737 732). You can also call the Adults Surviving Child Abuse's Professional Support Line from 9am-5pm 7 days a week, on 1300 657 380 or email [email protected].

Will I be paid to participate in this project? There are no costs associated with participating in this research study, nor will you be paid.

What are the possible benefits to participation? I hope to use information I get from this research study to benefit other men who have experienced child sexual abuse, particularly those who hold concerns over the assumed transition from survivor to offender.

What will happen to information about me? By signing the consent form you consent to me collecting and using information about you for the research study. I will keep your data for 7 years. I will store information about you at the secure storage facility in the School of Law at the University of New South Wales. Your information will only be used for the purpose of this research study and it will only be disclosed with your permission. But, it is important that you understand that I have an obligation to report any criminal activity you talk about for which you have not been convicted, so I would only like to talk about offences that have been perpetrated against you.

It is anticipated that the results of this research study will be published and/or presented in a variety of forums. In any publication and/or presentation, information will be provided in such a way that research findings about participants will not be individually identifiable in these publications.

You have the right to request access to the information about you that is collected and stored by the research team. You also have the right to request that any information with which you disagree be corrected. You can do this by contacting a member of the research team.

The audio recordings are for the purposes of the research study. After the interview I will transcribe your recordings, and they will be kept for 7 years in the secure storage facility in the School of Law at the University of New South Wales.

378 Your confidentiality will be ensured by giving you a pseudonym at the beginning of the research, and omitting any information that could reveal your identity. Only I will have access to the data during the research.

How and when will I find out what the results of the research study are? You have a right to receive feedback about the overall results of this study. You can tell me that you wish to receive feedback by ticking the box on page 4 and providing an email address. This feedback will be in the form of transcripts for you to edit and approve, and a summary of findings at the completion of the project. You will receive transcripts prior to analysis, and a summary of findings after the study is finished.

What if I want to withdraw from the research study? If you do consent to participate, you may withdraw at any time. If you do withdraw, you will be asked to complete and sign the ‘Withdrawal of Consent Form’ which is provided at the end of this document. Alternatively you can ring the research team and tell them you no longer want to participate.

If you decide to leave the research study, I will not collect additional information from you. Please let me know at the time when you withdraw what you would like me to do with the information I have collected about you up to that point. If you wish, your information will be removed from my study records and will not be included in the study results, up to the point that I have analysed and published the results.

What should I do if I have further questions about my involvement in the research study? The person you may need to contact will depend on the nature of your query. If you want any further information concerning this project or if you have any problems which may be related to your involvement in the project, you can contact the following member of the research team:

Research Team Contact Name Anne Cossins Position Associate Professor Email [email protected]

If at any stage during the project you become distressed or require additional support from someone not involved in the research please call:

Contact for feelings of distress Name/Organisation Adults Surviving Child Abuse Position Professional Support Line Telephone 1300 657 380 Email [email protected]

What if I have a complaint or any concerns about the research study? If you have any complaints about any aspect of the project, the way it is being conducted, then you may contact:

Complaints Contact Position Human Research Ethics Coordinator Telephone + 61 2 9385 6222 Email [email protected] HC Reference Number HC14212

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Consent Form – Participant providing own consent

Declaration by the participant

I have read the Participant Information Sheet or someone has read it to me in a language that I understand;

I understand the purposes, study tasks and risks of the research described in the project;

I have had an opportunity to ask questions and I am satisfied with the answers I have received;

I freely agree to participate in this research study as described and understand that I am free to withdraw at any time during the project and withdrawal will not affect my relationship with any of the named organisations and/or research team members;

I understand that I will be given a signed copy of this document to keep;

I consent to have the interview audio recorded for transcription purposes;

I consent to written notes ONLY being taken during the interview;

I would like to receive a summary of findings at the completion of this research. Send feedback to the following email address: ______

Participant Signature Name of Participant (please print) Signature of Research Participant Date

Declaration by Researcher* I have given a verbal explanation of the research study, its study activities and risks and I believe that the participant has understood that explanation.

Researcher Signature* Name of Participant (please print) Signature of Research Participant Date

*An appropriately qualified member of the research team must provide the explanation of, and information concerning the research study.

Note: All parties signing the consent section must date their own signature.

380

Form for Withdrawal of Participation

I wish to WITHDRAW my consent to participate in the research proposal described above and understand that such withdrawal WILL NOT affect my relationship with The University of New South Wales.

Participant Signature Name of Participant (please print) Signature of Research Participant Date

The section for Withdrawal of Participation should be forwarded to: CI Name Associate Professor Anne Cossins Email [email protected] Postal Address Room 333 School of Law University of New South Wales Sydney, NSW, 2052

381 Appendix M: Updated Participant Information Statement & Consent- Offenders 2016

To participate in this project you need to meet the following inclusion criteria: (i) be 18 years of age or older; (ii) have adequate English to provide written informed consent and to participate in the interview; (iii) do not have an untreated substance abuse or mental health issue; (iv) have a self-reported experience of sexual abuse as a child, where a. Child sexual abuse encompasses all contact and non-contact sexual behaviours between a child and a person at least 5 years older than themselves at the time of abuse, or unwanted sexual behaviours between a child and a person less than 5 years older them themselves at the time of abuse. b. ‘Child’ is defined as person under the age of 16 in accordance with NSW law; (v) have been convicted for a sexual offence against a child during adolescence or adulthood; (vi) have received, or are currently receiving, treatment or professional support in relation to an experience of child sexual abuse; and (vii) be available to participate in an in-person, telephone, or Skype interview.

382 understand or want to know more about. Before deciding whether or not to take part, you might want to talk about it with a relative, friend, or a counsellor.

If you decide you want to take part in the research study, you will be asked to: • Sign the consent form; • Keep a copy of this Participant Information Statement

The sensitive nature of the issues to be discussed in this interview may result in discomfort or negative emotional reactions. You are free to stop the interview temporarily or entirely discontinue participation at any time. Unless you say that you want me to keep them, any recordings will be erased and the information you have provided will not be included in the study results. You may also refuse to answer any questions that you do not wish to answer during the interview.

Will I be paid to participate in this project? There are no costs associated with participating in this research study, nor will you be paid.

383 Your confidentiality will be ensured by giving you a pseudonym at the beginning of the research, and omitting any information that could reveal your identity. Only I will have access to the data during the research.

Research Team Contact Name Anne Cossins Position Associate Professor Email [email protected]

If at any stage during the project you become distressed or require additional support from someone not involved in the research please call:

Contact for feelings of distress Name/Organisation Adults Surviving Child Abuse Position Professional Support Line Telephone 1300 657 380 Email [email protected]

What if I have a complaint or any concerns about the research study? If you have any complaints about any aspect of the project, the way it is being conducted, then you may contact:

Complaints Contact Position Human Research Ethics Coordinator Telephone + 61 2 9385 6222 Email [email protected] HC Reference Number HC14212

384