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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780855984526 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Oxfam Publishing |
| Publication date: | 02/28/2001 |
| Series: | Oxfam Focus on Gender Series |
| Pages: | 88 |
| Product dimensions: | 7.50(w) x 9.62(h) x 0.24(d) |
About the Author
Caroline Sweetman is Editor of the international journal Gender and Development.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
'Point of order, Mr Speaker': African women claiming their space in parliament
Sylvia Tamale
At the close of the millennium, there is a wave of invigorating air sweeping across the African continent. The refreshing breeze can be felt in the form of women smashing the gendered 'glass ceiling' in a bid to overcome the cultural and structural barriers that impede their political careers. In this short article, I examine the relationship of African women to parliament. In the first section, I look at women's involvement in politics in pre-colonial Africa, and then examine the barriers to women's political activity thrown up by colonialism. This history explains much about women's absence from contemporary African national assemblies. I then focus on one state – Uganda – looking closely at the policy of affirmative action there, and the reality of male bias, prejudice, and sexual harassment that women MPs confront when they manage to enter parliament.
African women are currently giving men a run for their money in the highest political offices of their land. They include Eileen Sirleaf-Johnson of Liberia, Rose Rugendo of Tanzania, Charity Ngilu of Kenya, Inonge Mbikusita-Lewanika of Zambia, and Margaret Dongo of Zimbabwe. Specioza Wandira-Kazibwe, from my own country, Uganda, is the first woman to ascend to the second highest political position in the land: a true rarity in Africa, and across the world. But African women remain grossly under-represented in the institutions that make decisions for their nations. By the close of the last millennium, in only 17 African countries did women account for ten per cent or more of parliamentarians.
Clearly, we have a problem here. African women were active participants in the struggle for political independence all over the continent. More recently, they have also played active roles in liberation movements, in countries including Uganda (Byanyima 1992). But in spite of these contributions, women in Africa still represent a very small minority of state national legislators. South Africa has the highest number of women representatives among national legislatures in Africa, and was the first African country to achieve the 1995 UN target of 30 per cent for the representation of women in parliament (United Nations 1996, para 182). Seychelles stands second at 27.3 per cent, followed by Mozambique, Namibia, Eritrea, and Uganda. At the other end of the spectrum are countries such as Djibouti and the Comoros, where the assemblies are exclusively composed of men. Have African women always been absent from the decision-making process in their communities?
This article is based on research I conducted between 1995 and 1998. The information on Ugandan women parliamentarians comes from notes I made from observations in the National Assembly, and interviews with legislators – 40 women, and 15 men.
Understanding women's absence: history revisited
Pre-colonial Africa
Male-authored, male-biased history texts have failed to acknowledge women's past contributions to the political life of most African societies. Recently, a growing literature has aimed to correct the record, by highlighting the important roles of African women as political actors in the pre-colonial period (for example, Staudt 1989; Agorsah 1990). This scholarship seeks to document certain structural features of pre-colonial African political economy that provided specific roles for women.
The status of African women was not equal to that of men (Hafkin and Bay 1976; Amadiume 1987); patriarchal societies predominated on much of the continent. However, African women played extremely important and diverse social roles, and wielded substantial economic and political power all over the continent. While a sexual division of labour preceded the colonial period in many African societies (Schmidt 1991), this was not divided along productive and reproductive lines. During pre-colonial times, most African women were fully engaged in both reproductive and productive activities (Okeyo 1980).
Women's participation in trade was so vigorous that in many African contexts they formed women's market networks, which gave them a high degree of economic power. Women in Ghana, for example, had total control of the proceeds from their trade sales – a factor that gave them relative autonomy from men (Agorsah 1990). In addition, the well-organised market networks often formed a strong basis for women's political activities. For example, in 1929, when the Igbo and Ibibio women of Nigeria rose against the British colonial authority in the famous 'Women's War', communication and co-ordination throughout the war was accomplished through marketing networks known as mikiri (Mba 1982).
In her work, Kamene Okonjo contrasts the 'dual-sex' political structures of West African traditional societies with the 'single-sex' system existing in much of the North. She shows that despite the patriarchal structure of much of pre-colonial Africa, women were not totally subordinate. In a single-sex system, 'political status-bearing roles are predominantly the preserve of men ... [and] women can achieve distinction and recognition only by taking on the roles of men in public life and performing them well' (Okonjo 1976, 45). Okonjo describes in detail how authority structures in Africa were distinctly sex-separate. She demonstrates how the dual-sex system worked among the Igbo of Nigeria, where the functions of the Obi (male monarch) were parallel to, and complementary with, those of the Omu (female monarch). Okonjo argues that 'within this system, each sex manages its own affairs, and women's interests are represented at all levels' (ibid.). Sex-separate institutions were also found in East Africa. For example, among the Kikuyu of Kenya, women performed economic, social and judicial functions through an age-segmented institution called ndundu (Stamp 1975).
The colonial period
However, the colonial intrusion into African societies 'added new dimensions to the differentiation between the sexes' (Chazan et al. 1988, 87). When Europeans colonised Africa, they transplanted their ideas of male-dominated politics, and ignored African women's political and economic activities. This created the conditions for denying adulthood to women, defining them as wards of men (Staudt 1989). By eroding most of the power and autonomy that African women had previously enjoyed, colonialism pushed them to the limits of subordination.
For example, when the British colonialists took over power in Nigeria, they only recognised the male Obi (to whom they offered a monthly salary); they completely ignored the female Omu. Kamene Okonjo concludes that 'the absence of women from meaningful political representation in independent Nigeria can be viewed as showing the strength of the legacy of single-sex politics that the British colonial masters left behind' (Okonjo 1976, 58).
A systematic and deliberate colonial policy ensured that African women were excluded from politics. Women were distanced from decision-making in agricultural production and other forms of production, due to Western views about the '... "proper" place of men and women in societies' (Staudt 1981, 5). It has also been argued that shifting decision-making from community level to the colonial capital cities lessened women's opportunities to influence political decision-making, because women had relied on influencing their male kin informally (Strobel 1982).
Several scholars cite missionary education as the single most important policy that adversely affected African women in relation to men (for example, Weis 1980). In order to participate in competitive party politics and parliamentary democracy, one needs some basic education in subjects such as English, civics, the law, and political science, fields that at the time were the exclusive preserve of men. The education given to girls in the colonial era certainly did not provide women with the intellectual skills needed to participate in Western-style politics imposed on the colonies at independence. Education for women was primarily geared towards providing the educated men with good wives and home-makers, and focused on domestic skills, nutrition, and home economics. As in Victorian Europe, not only were educational opportunities disproportionately provided to males, but men's education was also accorded higher priority than that of women (Staudt 1981). Moreover, the educated African housewife was viewed by the colonisers as a potential consumer who could motivate her husband's productivity.
She must be educated to want a better home, better furnishings, better food, better water supplies, etc. and if she wants them she will want them for her children. In short, the sustained effort from the male will only come when the woman is educated to the stage when her wants are never satisfied (Roddan 1958, quoted in Staudt 1989, 78).
Independence and beyond
At the time of formal independence from colonial rule, most African countries accorded full political rights to women. Not only did they have full suffrage rights, but they were also free to stand for any political office. Susan Geiger suggests that it was in the best interest of African nationalist leaders to present themselves as 'enlightened proponents of Western democracy and equality' (Geiger 1990, 227).
However, at independence, Africa inherited political ideologies and structures designed to consolidate male privilege and power, and women's subordination. Male authority in post-independent African states was so ubiquitous that for a very long time it was taken for granted. Recently, feminist theorists have begun to question the concept of 'the state', and challenge the patriarchal power encoded in it. They have shown that the division between the 'public' and 'private' spheres is artificial, and has had a huge negative impact on women (MacKinnon 1989).
There was no political ideology at independence – or, to put it another way, no strong women's movement – to challenge men's domination (Strobel 1982, 126). Where women's organisations existed, these were often closely connected to the male elite who were to rule after independence. For example, at the time of independence in 1963, Kenya had a nominally autonomous national women's organisation called Maendeleo ya Wanawake (Women's Progress) which held the mandate for promoting the advancement of African women. Although it started by criticising the Kenyan government, its leaders were soon co-opted as wives and kin of male national leaders. Audrey Wipper asks the rhetorical question: 'With husbands, brothers and fathers occupying some of the most powerful positions in the country, do they have too much at stake to query certain practices, let alone take action to oppose the power structure?' (Wipper 1975, 116). African women's continued absence in the political sphere is due in large part to this failure to challenge the deep social inequalities that result in female poverty and subordination.
In Tanzania, the national women's organisation, Umoja Wa Wanawake Wa Tanzania (UWT – United Women's Organisation of Tanzania), officially a part of the ruling party in Tanzania, was also charged with the task of improving the lives of poor rural women. Despite all UWT's efforts, women's status in Tanzania did not show any significant improvement. Susan Rogers identifies the problem not to be co-optation, as in the case of Maendeleo, but rather the uncritical 'acceptance of the sexual division of labour and accompanying gender relations as essentially unalterable conditions of human existence, even as Tanzanian women themselves identify these relations as central to their oppression ...' (Rogers 1983, 38).
Analyses of why African women remain largely absent from political life today must also explore the larger structures within which African politics are played out. The prospects of political systems integrating women in Africa are dim indeed, in light of the fact that national structures are themselves shaped and influenced by regional or international contexts. In the context of globalised politics, the realities of African politics within the prevailing hierarchical world economic order mean that '... [at] the top stratum, which international movers of capital dominate, women are inconsequential, and increased representation would not be likely to produce significant change' (Staudt 1981,19).
Affirmative action: lessons from Uganda
One of the ways that African governments have sought to redress the problem of women's paucity in decision-making positions is through the introduction of affirmative action programmes. Ugandan women, for example, have a constitutional 'sex quota' – reserved seats – at the level of parliament and local councils. This has helped considerably to boost the number of women politicians. Today, female parliamentary representation in Uganda stands at 18.1 per cent. This has certainly altered the Ugandan political landscape, albeit in contradictory and complex ways.
The benefits to women from the affirmative action experiment are limited by the fact that it was a top-down policy imposed by the state. In 1989, the National Resistance Movement (NRM) government gained the support of women legislators by offering them access to the political world of male power. However, challenging inequality between women and men was not on NRM's agenda. The fact that the state is not a guaranteed ally in the struggle for gender equity makes it extremely important that the women's movement in Uganda marks a critical distance from the state. But women continue to support the NRM government because it gave them access to the political arena, and this has nipped any popular opposition in the bud. Women activists need to stop 'thanking' the NRM for having 'delivered' them from oppression. They should not view the policy as a privilege but a right: it is merely a political opportunity, within which to advance the emancipation of women in all spheres of life.
The problem is exacerbated by the politics of patronage, whereby resource-poor women (and men), in the context of an underdeveloped economy, have to depend on the resource-controlling state as a vital back-up for advancing their political careers. Complacent in their positions of power, many affirmative action beneficiaries do not engage in serious self-analysis concerning their role in parliament, nor do they seriously or systematically question the gender implications of state-sponsored bills.
The affirmative action policy has proved to be class-centric, largely benefiting an educated elite minority among Ugandan women. In this sense, the policy has perpetuated mainstream post-colonial politics, which has excluded the voices of the largest section of the peasant population (both men and women). In other words, the political situation of the majority of women who face the brunt of oppression and marginalisation, for whom affirmative action was purportedly targeted, largely remains constant. Affirmative action policies are essentially limited in that they neglect class-based interests (Sikhosana 1996). When Uganda introduced affirmative action as an experiment in 1989, it was a reformist strategy, which did not deal with the underlying structural problems of the system. It could only therefore be of limited value to the women's movement in Uganda. Affirmative action is merely a necessary first step toward the difficult road to transformative action that allows for a democracy with a wider base.
Gender issues faced by Ugandan women MPs
Despite the increase in the number of female politicians in Uganda, I found in my research that it is still extremely difficult for women to achieve political autonomy. Gender inequality affects the social interactions of male and female legislators, and remains an integral part of the parliamentary institutional framework (Tamale 1999). Female politicians face common problems and challenges, irrespective of their mode of entry into the legislature (that is, whether through affirmative action or the direct route).
(Continues…)
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Table of Contents
Editorial Caroline Sweetman, 2,
'Point of order, Mr Speaker': African women claiming their space in parliament Sylvia Tamale, 8,
From palm tree to parliament: training women for political leadership and public life Lesley Abdela, 16,
Towards realistic strategies for women's political empowerment in Africa Sara Hlupekile Longwe, 24,
Collective action, organisation building, and leadership: women workers in the garment sector in Bangladesh Petra Dannecker, 31,
'Empowered leaders'? Perspectives on women heading households in Latin America and Southern Africa Kavita Datta and Cathy Mcllwaine, 40,
Transformational leadership: advancing the agenda for gender justice Peggy Antrobus, 50,
Leadership for adolescent girls: the role of secondary schools in Uganda Jill Sperandio, 57,
The leadership role of international law in enforcing women's rights: the Optional Protocol to the Women's Convention Kwong-Leung Tang, 65,
Leadership for social transformation: some ideas and questions on institutions and feminist leadership Aruna Rao and David Kelleher, 74,
Resources Compiled by Erin Murphy Graham, 80,
Publications, 80,
Organisations, 84,
Electronic resources, 85,
Videos, 86,