End of the Year Issue
Elly Loiseau
November 26, 2025
On average, 24% of women within the EU face Intimate Partner Violence (IPV). In Finland this figure rises to 30% with Denmark being even higher at 32%. In the context of the Nordics, 28% and 27% of Swedish and Norwegian women experienced IPV respectively. These relatively high statistics are described as the Nordic paradox, which explores why countries that are often described as models of egalitarianism face the highest rates of IPV. Understanding why this contradiction exists requires looking beyond numbers and into the social dynamics that shape behaviour. The Council of Europe defines sex and gender-based violence as “Violence founded on a gender-based power imbalance … deeply rooted in the structures, norms and social and cultural values of society”. Consequently, the coexistence of strong equality frameworks and persistent violence therefore suggests that the roots of IPV lie within these cultural, social, and structural foundations, not simply in the absence of legal progress.
Some believe the Nordic paradox may be due to backlash effects, in which progressive gender-equality ideals provoke resistance from traditional norms. Given the comparatively high levels of equality in the Nordic region, this resistance may be magnified, helping to explain the paradox. Conversely, it is suggested that Nordic countries' advanced gender equality laws help destigmatize reporting and thus we see an increased rate of IPV, not due to a true difference between the countries but rather as there are increased reports. This would reveal, however, a darker truth that IPV is more prevalent in other countries, but due to under-reporting, we just remain ignorant of its fact.
The existence of the Nordic paradox prompts a larger reflection on the limits of policy. Not just what we as a society put in place to combat inequality but also as to why IPV continues to persist regardless. Similar contradictions appear in global data. For example, studies in low and middle-income countries have found that women's improved economic or educational status can either protect them or increase their risk of IPV victimization, depending largely on cultural and interpersonal context.
This supports the idea that IPV's causes are embedded in culture and society regardless of policy changes. These patterns begin shaping vulnerability at an early age. Kelly Liz, a professor of sexualised violence, states that the “underlying theme is that daughterhood as currently constructed sets women up to be victimized”. She emphasizes that vulnerability is not accidental, but produced.
Reflecting on this, I first felt men’s eyes on me when I was 12, and by 13, I had already become hypervigilant of my surroundings. At 14, I was catcalled in front of a construction site on my way home from school; to this day, I feel uneasy walking past one. At 15, my friends traded stories about how men had driven by calling them “easy”, or tried to take pictures up their skirts or followed them home. Recently, one of my friends asked me whether it was normal that a guy at the club had put his hands under their clothes and kept touching them despite their objections while holding them in place. I highlight these moments because they are not anomalies; for every second woman, they are simply life.
What may appear as isolated incidents for an outsider actually reflects broader patterns that shape how girls learn to move through the world. These experiences impact a woman's sense of boundaries; it warps inappropriateness into a normal part of growing up, and is an infringement of their human rights as women. This normalization of discomfort forms the backdrop against which women learn to manage, rather than confront, danger as it all fades into the background noise of becoming a woman.
After interviewing women on their experiences, Kelly Liz concluded that the reason behind women's non-reaction was typically for two reasons: fear of escalation and the inability to think of an appropriate response. I can say from personal experience that the impulse to ignore such behavior is both ingrained and normalized. Living with that persistent sense of fear becomes a form of violence in itself. It degrades boundaries and rewires reactions. The normalization of discomfort in girlhood may shape how women later interpret, tolerate, or respond to controlling behaviours in relationships. If so, these learned responses are not individual shortcomings, but reflections of a social environment and institutional practices that continue to reproduce the conditions for IPV.
The West may have seen progress regarding the elimination of discrimination against women within a legal framework, yet, as the UN describes, “it is no accident that family law remains the slowest to change”. Family law shapes women’s rights around marriage and divorce. It is not enough to say that culture alone makes women vulnerable, but rather necessary to look at how institutions themselves reproduce this vulnerability. This gap between formal rights and lived reality. These dynamics become particularly visible when looking more closely at factors that shape a woman's decision to leave abusive relationships and marriages.
The liberalization of divorce law is often presented as proof that modern states have already done their part for women. Many countries in the West have seen a shift from fault-based divorce, which studies show has consequently led to a decrease in female suicide, a reduction in reported domestic violence and fewer cases of intimate partner homicide. However, this progress narrative obscures the truth that for many women, the process of leaving remains dangerous and institutionally unsupported.
This gap between formal progress and lived danger is echoed in women's testimonies. Kelly Liz observes that leaving abuse is rarely a single event, but rather a process marked by endurance and adaptation. A record linkage study done in Finland strengthens this point: demonstrating that the risk of partner assault was sharply elevated two to three years before divorce, with especially higher rates for women with children under the age of 12. Their risk remains higher even a year after the divorce. Between 2003 and 2013, roughly 65% of women killed in Finland were killed by their current or partner. Mothers face additional vulnerability as joint custody means they must remain in contact with their abuser throughout the process and perhaps the rest of their lives. These statistics are key in seeing how divorce for women in abusive relationships often concentrates the violence rather than ending it.
Furthermore, violence often escalates when women attempt to leave their abusive partner. Rane and Holmes describe divorce as one of the most stressful events in someone's life. Women often face cultural pressures to keep families together. These expectations shape how a woman perceives her personal safety. Scientific data suggests that “with the exception of parents faced with unresolvable marital violence, children fare better when parents work at maintaining their marriage”. Although this conclusion explicitly excludes situations of abuse, it reinforces a broader social message that preserving a nuclear family must be prioritised above all else. As a result, many women come to absorb the notion that their own safety is secondary and treated as negotiable rather than an unquestionable human right.
Beyond immediate safety, leaving exposes women to steep financial penalties that leave them more vulnerable; women see a 27% decrease in their standard of living as a result of divorce. Additionally, across the EU, women's income dropped by roughly 24%, a figure that can drop to 50% for custodial mothers, while men's losses are smaller. Women ultimately bear the brunt of the marital loss in a divorce, creating a level of economic dependence that makes the decision to leave far more complicated.
Compounding this, criminal justice institutions systematically fail to act on reported violence. Data from the UK shows that while reports of rape have reached record highs, the number of prosecutions has fallen by around 70%, with many women withdrawing their cases due to exhaustive and hostile interrogation. Sexual and domestic violence remain among the only crimes where the victim is routinely treated as the main object of suspicion, showing that women continue to be held responsible for male aggression.
Taken together, these dynamics show that IPV cannot be understood merely as individual behaviour or legal failure; there is a level of complexity that goes beyond equality clauses. The question “why didn’t you just leave?” overlooks how women have been culturally taught to absorb harassment, take responsibility for others’ actions, and endure. This continuity is the thread that ties private experience to institutional behaviour. It is necessary to see how these traditions shaped institutions put in place to protect women, and how history continues to repeat itself.
Until institutions stop mirroring the culture that harms women, the promise of equality will remain only partial.
Photo Source: Chase Carter, flickr