Many have called Jeffrey Epstein, the American financier and convicted child sex offender, a “monster.”
As fitting as this title may be, it also obfuscates the insidiousness of sexual violence.
The primary narrative of the Epstein files has so far been focused on how one powerful man cleverly enmeshed other powerful men—and some women—into his massive network of privilege and exploitation through the promise of access to others who are rich, powerful, and influential. But this is not the lesson the Epstein scandal should teach Americans.
Those of us fighting to end sexual and gender-based violence have cautioned against this framing of the abuse, which renders the exploitation of young girls and women simply a shocking deviation from the standards of acceptable behavior, rather than the product of entrenched power structures.
If we label Epstein a “monster,” we whitewash the environment that created, fostered, and abetted him.
The real lesson of the Epstein files is this: we built the world that made him possible. Epstein was not the disease. He was a symptom. And symptoms don’t disappear without treatment.
What’s more, Epstein was not an anomaly. His case simply highlighted what happens when power goes unaccountable, when silence is rewarded, and when child sexual abuse is treated as a private scandal rather than a public emergency.
If the conditions that produce, protect, and empower men like Epstein are entirely of our own making, that also means they are entirely within our power to change. Sexual and gender-based violence is solvable. And the Epstein files should be our call to finally act like it.
For those of us who work to end the global pandemic of sexual and gender based violence, it’s all too clear that male violence against women is painfully common. The sexual abuse of girls and women has been normalized and is routinely blamed on the actions of a few bad apples. It’s so normalized that we cannot believe it, even when it’s happening in plain sight.
This is not to say that the public anger towards Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell is not justified. The details are disturbing, and the scale of harm is staggering. We need this anger. But we need to harness it better, to help us answer troubling questions about the societies we live in. Questions like, what kind of world makes Epstein’s web of power—and those who participated, knew, and stayed silent—possible? And, crucially, what kind of world would have stopped it? The biggest question: what can we learn from the information and patterns emerging from these files that help us identify the current “Epsteins” still operating in obscurity?
It is tempting to treat Epstein as an outlier. But that story is too simple. Epstein operated in a system that protects status and male entitlement. He did not abuse power in a vacuum. He abused power in a culture that too often excuses it.
Sexual and gender-based violence is not rare. Worldwide, nearly one in three women will experience physical or sexual violence in her lifetime. One in eight girls globally experiences sexual violence before the age of 18, and boys are not safe either.
Sexual violence is disproportionately perpetrated by men and driven by gender inequality and unequal power relations. These are not marginal figures. They are structural and everyday realities. The problem is systemic.
When abuse happens at the highest levels of business and politics, the damage runs deep: survivors are re-traumatized, institutions lose credibility, and public trust erodes. The Epstein scandal illuminated the lengths to which power protects itself.
It’s important, in our response to the Epstein files, that we don’t buttress these power structures. We must listen to survivors. We must learn about the hell they went through. And we must untangle the range of debilitating consequences women and girls experience because of gendered, unequal power structures, not just those created by wealthy and influential individuals.
Coverage of the sexual violence and abuse inflicted on Epstein’s and his conspirators’ survivors must go further than fascination and disbelief. We must remember that these powerful people operate within already existing power structures, which enable violence against women and girls. We must remember that this violence is not inevitable. It doesn’t have to be an acceptable way of life. It is preventable because sexual and gender-based violence is solvable. We have frameworks. We have tested programs.
Decades of research suggest that well-designed, evidence-based interventions can reduce violence, sometimes by up to 50%. We must fund solutions that decrease the current violence while actively dismantling the roots of this structural problem.
The kind of world that could have stopped Epstein’s web of abuse already exists in theory; we just need to put it into practice.
We know, for example, that schools have the potential to be a powerful tool to prevent sexual violence. Schools do not just transmit knowledge; they shape norms. Norms shape whether abuse is tolerated or challenged.
We know that this needs to change, and how to change it. Evidence-based solutions exist. They just need to be taken to scale.
For instance, when education systems embed consent, gender equality, and respectful relationships into curricula, and pair that with policies that respond swiftly and seriously to harassment, violence declines. Messages about preventing sexual violence and building healthy relationships can shift peer norms and reduce the acceptance of violence. School programs can change attitudes, interrupt harmful behaviors before they become entrenched, and improve relationship outcomes.
Engaging boys in conversations about healthy masculinity is also critical because research indicates that when we equate manhood with dominance, conquest, and entitlement, sexual violence will spread.
If we are serious about preventing future Epsteins, boys and men must be central to the solution. Not as saviors, but first as survivors themselves and as accountable participants. That means calling out abuse within professional networks, refusing to shield powerful friends, demanding transparent investigations, and supporting survivor-centered systems.
What holds us all back from addressing gender-based sexual violence is a lack of breadth, coordination, and sustained political will. We’re stuck in disbelief, and in stories about “monsters.” But there are no boogey men. There are simply powerful men who do monstrous things.
In practice, this world that could have prevented the sexual exploitation perpetrated by Epstein does not treat sexual exploitation and violence as a personal scandal, but as a governance and cultural failure. It’s a world where institutions build safeguards long before abuse surfaces.
It’s a world where prevention is embedded everywhere. Schools teach consent, respect, and equality as foundational skills. Workplaces treat harassment and exploitation as core risks to culture and performance, not reputational inconveniences. Online platforms enforce zero-harm commitments. Media and entertainment mitigate harm by monitoring excessive and gratuitous gender-based violence and messaging. Governments integrate prevention across health, education, justice, labor, and technology sectors.
A world where silence and inaction are no longer neutral.
Public anger can be a catalyst. But anger alone will not prevent the next predator. Accountability and transparency matter. So do commitments to protect the safety and dignity of every citizen - even children. However, without a sustained focus on preventing harm before it happens and upending the systems that facilitate the harm, we will repeat the cycle. Solutions require investment.
It requires leadership across all sectors.
It requires refusing complacency.
And it requires us to stop blaming our societal issues on “monsters.”