Days of Anti-Violence
Every year, from 25 November to 10 December, the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence campaign turns the world orange as a symbol of unity and solidarity. This global campaign has been ongoing for 34 years, with a main message encouraging victims of gender-based violence to speak up.
On one hand, this campaign has achieved much by breaking up longstanding silences on the subject and turning private suffering into a matter of public concern. On the other hand, despite decades of campaigning, the problem persists, with an estimated one in three women globally has experienced gender-based violence.
Domestic violence remains the most pervasive form of gender-based harm, firmly rooted in the social and political life of countries across different levels of development. It occurs despite existing campaigns to end it and amid a structured legal framework to prevent it in many countries.
For instance, in Indonesia and Japan, legal frameworks to combat domestic violence have existed for more than two decades, but statistics show that not much has improved.
In Indonesia, the National Commission on Violence against Women recorded the ever-rising report of domestic violence, reaching hundreds of thousands of cases every year. Meanwhile, Japan’s Cabinet Office surveys reveal a trend of stagnation, with one in three women experiencing abuse from an intimate partner at least once in her lifetime.
These concerning pictures demonstrate not a gap of knowledge but the lack of capacity to bridge between awareness and governance.
Global campaigns like the 16 Days of Activism have urged us to listen to survivors’ narratives, but these have not yet forced governments to examine how effective their systems respond. Decades of such campaigns have successfully convinced women to report, yet failed to ensure that when they do, there is a structure that is ready to respond with care and competence.
The result is a chain of disappointment; survivors may come forward, but they might grow disappointed because the system erected to protect them is caught in red tape or, worse, unprepared.
The following section draws on data collected from Surabaya, Indonesia and Sapporo, Japan. Evidence from these two cities suggests that the persistence of domestic violence cannot be explained solely from cultural or legal aspects. The political dimension also plays an important role here, as the issue lies in how the care service towards victims is moulded by the relationship between civil society and government.
In this modern age, the question is no longer about whether victims would gather the courage to speak up. The real challenge is whether those in power have learnt to listen and build a system that responds with responsibility and steady care.
Lessons from Two Cities
Comparative insights from Surabaya and Sapporo help map this institutional landscape in concrete ways. Although the two cities operate within different administrative traditions, their experiences point to a similar structural logic.
In Surabaya, the government unit that handles women’s protection has established a long partnership with a feminist organisation with extensive experience in crisis support. The collaboration grows out of daily interactions built on trust and steady commitment.
Counsellors often pick up late-night calls, accompany survivors to hospitals, sit with them while filing police reports and offer the kind of calm emotional support that helps them move through moments that can feel heavy or even retraumatising.
Their responsiveness demonstrates how intuition, speed and relational trust fill the gaps left by rigid bureaucracy. However, the same qualities expose the fragility of the system. When emotional labour becomes the main infrastructure of care, the system depends on individuals rather than institutions. Funding change, leadership changes or personnel burnout can disrupt support networks.
Interviewed government officials expressed sincere empathy, but their actions remained bound by administrative verification and procedural standard. The paradox is clear: care requires improvisation, while bureaucracy demands rigid formality. At some point, these different logics create tension that civil society organisations must negotiate daily.
Sapporo, on the other hand, presents a different style of collaboration that leans on formal structures. The city works through official contracts with several women’s organisations, c
On the surface, this arrangement looks appealing because it creates predictability and outlines clear procedures within the system. Shelters, hotlines and counselling centres have predictable workflows, where coordination across departments follows established rules.
However, social workers interviewed described a workload dominated by paperwork, reporting and compliance with procedural requirements; this reduces the time they spend in direct contact with survivors. In this sense, emotional labour becomes measurable data rather than lived engagement.
Red Tape
Data, reports and paperwork are parts of how institutions define performance. When the state governs care through indicators that prioritise documentation, it privileges administrative order over emotional quality. When it values consistency above relational engagement, it shapes how care is practised. The result seems to be stability that risks losing its human compassion.
Negotiating bureaucracy and compassion can be described as “governing intimacy”. The phrase points to the carefully managed closeness that forms between the state and feminist organisations. Governments turn to civil society for empathy, adaptability and the ability to interpret complex situations. Civil society, in turn, leans towards the state for legitimacy, funding and formal authority.
This mutual reliance requires deliberate boundary setting to ensure the relationship remains productive without collapsing into overdependence. If organisations stand too far from the state, coordination becomes slow and fragmented. If they stand too close, bureaucratic logic threatens to erode their independence and critical voice.
Governance intimacy demonstrates that care is not a neutral action, yet it is inhere
Feminist groups often carry the toughest emotional work, yet they still get only small recognition and not much proper support from the institutions that depend on them. Their contributions become invisible layers that sustain the system while remaining undervalued.
This dynamic shows that domestic violence governance is not simply about service delivery. It is a contest over responsibility, authority and the meaning of empathy within public institutions. Surabaya and Sapporo reveal that different administrative traditions can produce similar vulnerabilities because both rely on the emotional and intellectual labour of feminist actors to cover structural weaknesses.
From Awareness to Accountability
The 16 Days of Activism offers a moment to reconsider where the weaknesses of the current response lie.
Awareness, of course, still matters, but it no longer defines the edge of the movement. The priority has shifted towards demanding governments fully understand their responsibilities.
This is because when domestic violence is treated as a question of governance, institutional capacity becomes the main target of reform. This shift requires clear commitments and practical steps that strengthen how institutions work, rather than relying on symbolic gestures.
Governments need to acknowledge feminist organisations as partners in governing domestic violence rather than as mere service providers. These organisations understand how survivors think and feel, and they are often experienced in navigating the legal, medical and social blocks that emanate as byproducts of bureaucracy. Their insights should inform policy design, budget allocation and institutional protocols.
Meanwhile, stable funding arrangements could reduce personnel burnout. Clear roles can protect their autonomy. Inclusion in policymaking projects the state’s respect for their expertise and acknowledgement of the political nature of care.
Institutional empathy also needs to be cultivated intentionally. Bureaucrats, police officers and frontline staff should receive training in emotional competence, trauma awareness, and survivor-centred communication. This is not about asking officials to be “warm” in a sentimental sense but about equipping them with the capacity to respond without causing additional harm.
Sensitivity becomes a professional skill that enhances the effectiveness of procedure, while institutions that combine clarity with compassion earn trust more easily and improve case outcomes.
Reforming how institutions measure success is equally important since counting reports cannot capture survivor safety. A rising number of cases may signal increased trust, or it may reflect institutional failure. Metrics need to capture elements such as response speed, the quality of coordination, survivor satisfaction and the accuracy of referrals. These measures offer a clearer picture of how institutions actually work and guide policymakers toward areas that require improvement.
Strength
The relatio
By following that shift in paradigm and action, the 16 Days of Activism can serve as a moment more for reflection than symbolic unity. The colour orange can keep its place as a sign of shared commitment, while at the same time hinting at something deeper, which is the need to shape institutions that listen and treat care as something the public sector must carry, while also being decisive in taking actions.
Violence keeps happening not only because survivors hold back their stories, but also because many institutions still struggle to respond with the level of skill and human feeling that the situation really needs. It is indeed a global issue that needs global effort to tackle.
Acknowledgment: This article draws on research supported by the Japan-Related Research Grant from The Sumitomo Foundation (Fiscal Year 2024)
