When we started the One Million Signatures campaign in Iran in 2006, we were aware that demanding a change to laws that discriminate against women in an Islamic state could result in a backlash.
The goal of the One Million Signatures campaign is modest and straightforward: to press for reform, from inside Iran, to the laws that make an Iranian woman or girl’s life legally worth half that of a man’s.
We set out to do so by educating the people of Iran, because we knew that both culture and law had to be changed in order to achieve equal rights for women. We engaged in face-to-face discussions with the public about these discriminatory laws, and encouraged Iranians to join us—their mothers, wives, daughters, and sisters—in this struggle. We then asked members of the public to sign a petition addressed to the Iranian Parliament asking for the reform of laws that discriminated against women.
We fully anticipated accusations that our demands contradicted Sharia, or Islamic, law and that we were “promoting a Western agenda.” For that reason, we made an effort to explain in our materials and during our discussions with the public that our demands for change and equality did not in fact contradict Islam, and instead helped promote progress in Iran.
We built our case to ordinary Iranian people by explaining that Islamic scholars offered various interpretations to Sharia law when it came to women’s rights. We referred to the cultural advancement of Iranian society and the social achievements of Iranian women, and explained the negative impact of legal discrimination on the lives of women, the structure of the family, and society as a whole.
We discussed—but eventually decided not to tackle directly—the issue of the hijab, the Islamic dress code for women, which we felt should be voluntary rather than compulsory—because we realized it was an ideologically charged issue and could hijack the overall goal of pressing for improvements in many other areas that affect women’s everyday lives. Thus, we generally referred to imposed veiling as a form of legal discrimination in our literature, but did not highlight it as one of our main petition demands. These were some of the strategies we chose to pursue in order to minimize the possible negative backlash we would receive for making such a bold and public demand for women’s equality in Iran.
As it happens, the authorities never accused us of promoting an agenda in contradiction to Islam, and our critics only accused us of promoting a Western agenda in passing. To our surprise and dismay, however, our efforts to engage with the public elicited a violent response from Iranian authorities, and security forces began arresting our members as soon as they set out to collect signatures.1 The authorities formally charged our members with alleged crimes such as “endangering the national security” and spreading propaganda against the state. They not only prevented us from reaching out to the public, but also disrupted our efforts to hold public or private meetings to advance our campaign.
In June 2006, several months before the official launch of our campaign, women’s rights activists planned a public protest in Haft-e Tir Square in Tehran to demand equality for women. The protest turned violent. Security forces arrested seventy protesters, and the authorities charged many of them with security crimes. The Iranian government had drawn a line in the sand: public protests constituted a threat and would not be tolerated.
So we changed our tactics and decided to rely solely on collecting signatures and engaging with the public through dialogue. We assumed that the peaceful and transparent strategy of holding face-to-face discussions with Iranians and collecting signatures in support of a petition to the parliament would be tolerated by the authorities.
We were wrong.
This was our wake-up call. To the Iranian government, ensuring control over its population was paramount. It didn’t matter how reasonable our campaign goals were. The reality is that when you work in a politically closed environment, any form of organizing, any effort to build networks and to connect individuals, is viewed by the state as a security threat. When that organizing takes place around women’s rights, the situation becomes that much more complicated.
Today, women in Islamic countries—especially politically closed or transitioning societies—have to contend with an entirely different set of challenges than women activists elsewhere. These challenges require increased cooperation, collaboration, sharing of strategies, and solidarity of women’s movements throughout the region. In this way, not only can women build on and learn from one another’s experiences, they can speak for one another when political and fundamentalist forces make it too dangerous to speak inside a given country. In so doing, they can drive home the point that the demand for women’s rights is in fact an indigenous one, echoed and bolstered by progressive voices across the region. The specific challenges women face after 2011’s mass movements for democracy in the region make the formation of such a solidarity network even more imperative.
Too often when women in Islamic countries work for equal rights, their efforts are dismissed in their own countries as “Western demands.” The argument used for justifying continued discrimination against women is often a religious one based on a conservative interpretation of Sharia law. This is the case in Iran. Supporters of this conservative interpretation claim women and men have complementary but different roles and responsibilities in Islam. Therefore they should also enjoy different rights.
This argument ignores the more progressive interpretations of Sharia law, which have been used in places such as Morocco and were instrumental in reforming the Moudawana, or the family code. Instead, authorities often rely on interpretations of Sharia law that reflect existing cultural practices that are often rooted in patriarchal beliefs or cultural traditions that reinforce the notion of women’s primary roles as mothers and wives. These interpretations of Sharia law are, in turn, viewed as sacred and immutable.
Around the world, those seeking to reform religious laws (regardless of the religion) are often met with reprisals and sometimes accused of heresy. They endure threats, arrests, and even assaults and attempts on their lives. In Egypt, for example, Coptic Christians are not allowed to seek divorce. In order to get a divorce, some Copts have converted to Islam, where limited divorce rights are granted to women. This practice has contributed to sectarian tensions and even violence between Copts and Muslims. Even in countries with more progressive gender laws, challenging the validity of religiously based legislation poses many difficulties.
Despite these dangers, brave women activists and Islamic scholars in countries as diverse as Bahrain, Iran, Morocco, and Malaysia are promoting more progressive interpretations of Sharia law. This is a long and arduous struggle. Unlike conservative or fundamentalist forces that often have access to mainstream media outlets to spread their message, reformists often work in isolation and have limited access to mainstream media. Progressive scholars are even viewed as a threat to the status quo and are often targeted by both their critics and authorities.
One consequence of this imbalance is the somewhat surprising complacence of Western and international policymakers when it comes to speaking out on women’s rights. We are often surprised, if not shocked, to see some Western observers and policymakers relying on cultural relativism arguments to justify discrimination against women in Islamic countries. From Afghanistan to Iraq and beyond, where the West has on occasion stepped in by military force or through other means, to “ensure democracy and human rights,” the most negotiable item is often women’s rights. This is, in part, because of the harsh backlash by indigenous political leaders and religious conservatives in the region, who have often chosen to draw a red line when it comes to the “imposition of Western ideals” with respect to women’s rights. The fact is that women’s rights are not Western but rather universal human rights, guaranteed by numerous UN declarations, conventions, and treaties.
The complacency of some international policymakers leaves women activists in the Middle East wondering, would the international community be as accommodating to conservative forces if the targets of discrimination were ethnic or religious groups and not women and girls?
Many Western observers in the region believe that democracy in countries that have recently experienced popular uprising or revolution will look different from what we see in Western democracies because it will have to be based, at least in part, on Sharia law. In fact, the concept of “Islamic democracy”—what it will look like and how it will function—is is still quite vague, with many questions unanswered. Whose interpretation of Sharia law will be used? Will Sharia laws apply to religious minorities, such as Christians and Jews, or will religious minorities have their own religiously based civil code? Will the penal code adopted in these new democracies include punishments authorized by certain interpretations of Sharia law such as flogging and stoning? Will the new judicial system rely on interpretations of Sharia law that limit women’s personal status rights?
These questions help us to identify the real challenges that await the countries and societies that are currently experiencing transitions resulting from the “Arab Spring.” That challenge is to make it clear that women’s rights may not be sacrificed or bargained away by anyone, whether protesters, democracy activists in the region, or the international community.
Unfortunately, the voices of progressive women are often completely excluded from discussions regarding the future of these transitioning nations at the international and regional levels, and absent or muffled at the national and local levels. This despite the fact that the changes set into motion by the Arab Spring provide an invaluable opportunity for the UN and other key actors to insist that women have a seat and a voice at the negotiating table when it comes to determining the future of their nations. After all, millions of women joined, and were on the front lines of the revolutions that have shaken and shaped the Middle East and North Africa.
It is no small irony that when you work to advance women’s rights in politically closed systems, democracy advocates who should be your staunchest allies are often the ones working against you. We are often assured by these advocates that when democracy is achieved, then women’s rights too will be realized. We are cautioned that demanding gender equality early on would be divisive and that we would be better off focusing our energy on the demand for broader democracy. But often this is not the case, and once the revolution has toppled the old regime, discrimination against women not only continues, but is promoted and justified by religious and cultural norms by the very same “democracy activists” who have now assumed the reins of power.
We saw this in Iran during after the Islamic Revolution of 1979. And then again later, when women played a key in electing President Mohammad Khatami in 1997, a reformist who ran on a platform of promoting civil society and citizen participation. During his eight years in office, reformist politicians often cautioned women and other rights groups not to publicly criticize the government of Khatami, then under fire by conservative political groups. Women’s groups largely gave in to this demand, hoping that reformists would push for major change in women’s rights once they consolidated power. But women’s rights reforms were never a top priority. As a result, reformists and women’s groups failed to build successful alliances based on mutual respect, which could have transformed demands for equality into legal reform.
By the 2005 elections, women’s groups in Iran came to realize that the only way they could advocate for women’s rights was to do forge a new path free from political alignments and considerations. This strategy was instrumental in elevating the voice of Iranian women activists and their demands to the national level. They sought to ensure that their movement was strong and independent, and that their ideals were not held hostage to the whims of political parties and their leaders.
Today, across the Arab Spring countries, we are witnessing similar demands by “democracy activists” who are urging women’s rights advocates to remain silent and hold off on their legitimate demands for equality. Again, women are being told that when the task of building of democracy is complete, their demands will naturally be met.
The toppling of dictators and dictatorships does not guarantee the advancement of women’s rights. In post-revolution Egypt and Tunisia, some women’s rights activists have come under attack for having allegedly been aligned with dictators. Others are accused of advocating a Western agenda not in line with Sharia law. This is in part because in pre-revolution Tunisia and Egypt (and even Iran), women’s rights had been used as indicators of progress toward democratization—without there being a genuine or substantive effort toward broad-based democracy and institution building. After the revolutions, a backlash toward these gains took shape, and the demands of women’s rights activists were not always viewed as responsive to real social needs. As a result many pro-democracy activists who should otherwise be natural supporters of gender equality now see the inclusion of women in the democratic process as peripheral or nonessential at best.
To subordinate women’s rights is a mistake. If women’s equality is not viewed as a prerequisite to achieving democracy, the prospects of realizing a true democracy later will be all the more difficult if not impossible.
During the coverage of public protests in Iran in 2009 and across the Arab world in 2011, I noticed that many observers were surprised, if not shocked, at the active participation of women. These images helped dispel many of the myths surrounding Muslim women—that they are subservient and passive by nature. Instead, many viewers began to realize, perhaps for the first time, that women in Muslim societies were both politically and socially engaged and were often on the front lines of the push toward change.
I visited both Egypt and Tunisia shortly after their respective revolutions and met countless women’s rights activists who were working to ensure that women’s voices were included during the transition toward democracy. Their ideas and approaches were varied, but they all valued the importance of raising cultural awareness through education, advocating for legislative reform, and participating in the elections as both voters and candidates. One women’s rights activist in Egypt told me that it was important for women to be present in all aspects of social life, and to speak about issues beyond women’s rights, so that the Egyptian population views them as capable of advocating for all of the population on a range of issues, as opposed to just the family code.
Yet the challenges for political transitions across the region are immense, including facing increased militarism and fundamentalism from both state and non-state actors, and rebuilding critical institutions like the judiciary. While citizens in some countries in the region are moving toward democracy, others are faced with increased conflict and repression. These developments have posed even greater challenges for women’s rights.
In Morocco, where rapid reforms on women’s rights have been introduced and women have proposed language in the constitution guaranteeing equality, major barriers to women’s equal participation remain and the women’s rights reforms are viewed negatively or with suspicion by an increasingly conservative public.
In countries that experienced revolutions, political space has opened up for the general public, but women are facing challenges they had not faced before. In Tunisia, for example, there is greater scrutiny of women, who are targeted for their dress and activism, and are pressured to conform to “Islamic” ideals. At one stage a hit list targeting progressive activists, including women’s rights advocates, circulated on the Internet in Tunisia. One positive sign was the government’s decision in August 2011 to lift key reservations to the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, known as CEDAW, but women’s equal participation in decision making still faces great challenges and women are grossly underrepresented in public and political life. In Egypt, hard-won gains such as (limited) divorce rights for women are being threatened.
Despite upcoming elections in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya, existing barriers to democracy and women’s equal participation and representation in the social and political spheres make it difficult for them to ensure their voices are taken seriously. As a result of decades of political repression, liberal groups are less organized than many of their more conservative counterparts—some of whom promote a regressive vision of women’s rights. The progressive groups also benefit from less funding and support and do not enjoy strong community networks. At the same time, women face serious barriers even within progressive parties.
In Tunisia, where a proportional system is in place, despite not being listed at the top of party ballots for the Constituent Assembly elections in October 2011, women managed to win 24 percent of the vote, or 49 seats.2 With 37 percent of the vote, or 90 seats out of 217, Ennahda, the Islamist party, managed to win the largest percentage of votes in Tunisia’s first free elections after the revolution.3 Ennahda candidates stressed tolerance generally and respect for women’s rights specifically, including the upholding of women’s legal gains. But following the elections, Ennahda’s spokeswoman, Souad Abderrahim, made headlines by claiming that “single women were a disgrace to Tunisia and did not have the right to exist.”4 Her statements exemplify the often uncertain and complex environment women face in post-revolutionary Tunisia.
In Egypt, proposed quotas for women’s representation in political office have been criticized by feminists as insufficient, and few qualified women have been willing to take up the challenge of political life.
In Iran, there is greater repression after the protests following the disputed presidential elections in 2009. Women are being targeted in ways unprecedented since the early days of the 1979 revolution. Increased control of women’s dress not only serves misogynistic ideals but allows police presence on the streets to control the public at large. Syria, Libya, Bahrain, Iraq, Afghanistan, and Yemen are facing increased or chronic conflicts—conflicts that seriously undermine the ability of women to advance their political and social agendas. In Iraq, women will for the first time enjoy fewer rights and freedoms and will be less educated than the generation of women that preceded them.
In some countries, women’s rights activists are grappling with the question of Sharia law for the first time. Islamist women who have been denied public presence and the opportunity to participate in politics now have the opportunity to engage more fully in advocating for an Islamic state. As a consequence, secular feminists are under attack more than ever. Those who survived or created some semblance of public space to advocate their agenda before the periods of transition are now feeling more isolated and threatened than ever.
One strategy utilized by some women’s rights advocates in the region is inclusion in the political process—as candidates, members of political parties, and voters. But considerable training is needed for women candidates to be able to speak to issues beyond women’s rights. Outreach to voters—especially women—is critical to ensure that women themselves vote for progressive agendas, yet civil society groups are less organized and not as well funded as established forces like the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt.
Women’s groups have also been unable to bridge their practical gaps with the general public. Many younger activists are expressing a need to learn how to build movements on and about women’s rights. Some younger feminists in Egypt are focusing more on the cultural challenges at hand and do not see much of a discrepancy between cultural norms and Sharia law. They are instead choosing to focus their energies on building a culture of equality rather than fighting to ensure the adoption of civil over religious laws. But more experienced Egyptian feminists insist that the focus should be two-fold: to include both legislation and adherence to international standards, as well as cultural education. They view family laws, along with other restricting laws, as major barriers to women’s equality. But often their focus on laws and regulations that affect women is working against them, because work on family law and women’s rights issues has historically been viewed as a “soft issue” not worthy of consideration by “serious politicians” concerned with more broad-based issues concerning democracy.
Women’s rights activists across the Middle East face similar questions. How can we best promote women’s rights in an Islamic context? How can we reach out to the public? Who are our most likely allies? How do we stay true to our ideals and values, while respecting the culture of the communities in which we work? To answer these fundamental questions, we need to learn from one another and draw on multiple experiences in the region. Only then will we be able to craft sustainable rights-based solutions to the specific problems faced by women in the Middle East, North Africa, and other Muslim-majority societies.
As women’s rights come under fire on a daily basis, or women’s rights advocates are pressured, threatened, targeted, or arrested, strong statements of solidarity from regional women’s movements along with international leaders are essential to providing support to rights activists and pressuring rights violators. Regional cohesion and collaboration among women’s groups will also force political players at the national and regional levels to take the demands of these groups more seriously.
Of course, women in the Middle East cannot do this alone. We need support from international women’s movements, human rights organizations, and nontraditional actors at the national and regional levels. We need better access to national and international media, in order to successfully engage with the public, influence culture and thinking, and share messages and visions of equality.
Perhaps most important, women’s rights defenders need to support and learn from one another and be advocates, first and foremost, for themselves. Through regional solidarity, they will finally be able to hold national, regional, and international policymakers and actors to a higher standard of inclusion and gender equality.
We must systematically and relentlessly drive home the point that democracy will not be realized and stabilized without ensuring rights for half of the population.
Sussan Tahmasebi is an Iranian women’s rights activist who has worked to strengthen civil society with a focus on gender issues and women’s rights. She is a founding member of the award-winning One Million Signatures campaign, which seeks an end to Iran’s gender-biased laws. Tahmasebi, who has been harassed by Iranian security forces and was banned from traveling abroad for over two years because of her work, is a 2011 recipient of Human Rights Watch’s Alison Des Forges Award for Extraordinary Activism. Tahmasebi is currently working to promoting women’s rights, peace, and security in the Middle East.