In defence of anonymity, and the lack of it.

I have a large degree of sympathy for Mark Pritchard, the MP who has today been informed that the rape inquiry hanging over his head has been dropped due to a lack of evidence. To be accused of such an appalling and stigmatising crime would be a blot of anyone’s reputation (apart from Ched Evans, it would seem). Depressingly, the court of human nature tends to return a verdict of no smoke without fire (along similar lines, it’s interesting to see how many people are absolutely ready to believe the allegations laid at Prince Andrew’s door. Not that I’m saying it didn’t happen, and his taste in friends is clearly beyond questionable, but they are, as yet, merely allegations), so to be accused of rape, however falsely, is a lifelong burden.

However, it was depressing to see the rapidity with which he started banging the drum for altering the anonymous status of the accusers and accused. I can understand his position, in his place I’d feel something similar. I can’t imagine what it must be like to be falsely accused of anything, let alone something as serious as rape. But the two positions advocated by those who want change are both problematic. That the accuser should be publically named seems, on the face of it, reasonable. But it fails to take into account the fact that the vast majority of rape cases which fail to secure convictions do so not because of a false accusation, but because of a lack of evidence. Rape is notoriously difficult to prove, and he burden of proof always lies with the prosecution. Former DPP, Keir Starmer acknowledged this when he called the notion of widespread false accusations “a myth”. It also, more damningly, makes it far less likely that the abused will ever come forward in the first place. The thought of being named, of people knowing, must be beyond horrifying to abuse victims. Again, I can’t pretend to understand.

That the accused should remain anonymous seems, at first glance, even more reasonable, and used to be the legal case (and was also the coalition’s position until not too long ago, something about which they remain curious quiet). And then you think about Savile, and Stuart Hall, and Rolf Harris (whose lawyers attempted to bully the papers by invoking Leveson, and saying that publishing his name was “not in the public interest”) and all the others who hid for so many years, and all the victims who never came forward, and only found the courage to do so once the name was out there. Think about John Worboys, the serial rapist who, once his name was public, 85 women came forward, some gave evidence at his trial without which, he may never have been convicted. And set against that, I’m afraid, the argument melts.