Women's Citizenship and Political Rights (Women's Rights in Europe)

Women’s Citizenship and Political Rights Edited by Sirkku K. Hellsten, Anne Maria Holli and Krassimira Daskalova

Women’s Citizenship and Political Rights

Women’s Rights in Europe Series Series Editors: Christien L. van den Anker, Audrey Guichon, Sirkku K. Hellsten and Heather Widdows

Titles include: Sirkku K. Hellsten, Anne Maria Holli and Krassimira Daskalova (editors) WOMEN’S CITIZENSHIP AND POLITICAL RIGHTS Heather Widdows, Itziar Alkorta Idiakez and Aitziber Emaldi Cirión (editors) WOMEN’S REPRODUCTIVE RIGHTS Forthcoming titles: Christien L. van den Anker and Jeroen Doomernik (editors) TRAFFICKING AND WOMEN’S RIGHTS Audrey Guichon, Christien L. van den Anker and Irina Novikova (editors) WOMEN’S SOCIAL RIGHTS AND ENTITLEMENTS

Women’s Rights in Europe Series Series Standing Order ISBN 1–4039–4988–3 You can receive future titles in this series as they are published by placing a standing order. Please contact your bookseller or, in case of difficulty, write to us at the address below with your name and address, the title of the series and the ISBN quoted above. Customer Services Department, Macmillan Distribution Ltd, Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS, England

Women’s Citizenship and Political Rights Edited by

Sirkku K. Hellsten Centre for Global Ethics, University of Birmingham, UK

Anne Maria Holli Department of Political Science, University of Helsinki, Finland

and

Krassimira Daskalova Faculty of Philosophy and Social Sciences Sofia University, Bulgaria

Contents List of Tables

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Foreword Yakın Ertürk

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Acknowledgements

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Notes on the Contributors

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List of Abbreviations

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Introduction Sirkku K. Hellsten, Anne Maria Holli and Krassimira Daskalova

Part I

Theoretical Feminist Perspectives

1

13

1. Dilemmas of Political Participation Shirin M. Rai

15

2. European Citizenship: A Political Opportunity for Women? Ute Gerhard

37

3. Can Feminism Survive Capitalism? Challenges Feminist Discourses Face in Promoting Women’s Rights in Post-Soviet Europe Sirkku K. Hellsten 4. Citizenship, Civil Society and Gender Mainstreaming: Complexities of Political Transformation in Central and Eastern Europe Barbara Einhorn 5. ‘Gender Equality’: On Travel Metaphors and Duties to Yield Hege Skjeie

Part II

Applying New Insights to Old Problems

6. Education and European Women’s Citizenship: Images of Women in Bulgarian History Textbooks Krassimira Daskalova v

53

67 86

105 107

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Contents

7. Strong Together? A Comparative Study of the Impact of the Women’s Movement on Policy-Making in Finland Anne Maria Holli 8. Transnational and National Gender Equality Politics: The European Union’s Impact on Domestic Violence Debates in Britain and Finland Johanna Kantola 9. Implementing Gender Equality: Gender Mainstreaming or the Gap between Theory and Practice Petra Meier

127

154

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10. Good Governance and Good for Business Too? Equality and Diversity in Britain Judith Squires

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Index

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List of Tables 7.1 7.2 7.3 7.4 7.5 8.1 8.2 8.3 8.4

Typology for movement impact/state response Typology for women’s policy agency activities Country comparison by dual response/no response impact across policy sectors Summary of the results for Finland by date of end of decision Variables explaining the impact of the women’s movement in Finland Differences in refuge ideologies according to Teuvo Peltoniemi Proximity of domestic violence to which women are victims (1) Proximity of domestic violence to which women are victims (2) How widespread is domestic violence against women?

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129 130 134 140 142 159 169 169 170

Foreword This series is a timely initiative to counter the mounting opposition and challenge to the progress made thus far in transforming mainstream human rights discourse from a feminist perspective. Expansion of the concept of human rights to address violations experienced by women due specifically to their sex has considerably altered international and domestic law and demystified the public/private distinction that justified women’s subordination. The Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women, adopted in 1979 by the United Nations General Assembly, was an important step in the recognition of the universality of human rights, a view that became officially endorsed at the Vienna World Conference on Human Rights in 1993. Also referred to as the International Bill of Rights of Women, the Convention has been ratified by 180 member states. Yet, after over quarter of a century since the adoption of the Convention and the numerous human rights instruments that followed, what remains universal is the gross violation of women’s rights worldwide. Notwithstanding the notable progress achieved in the advancement of women in the past decades, women in all parts of the world still face obstacles in accessing rights, such as the rights to education, health, political participation, property and to decide over matters related to their sexuality, reproduction, marriage, divorce and child custody, among others. Women’s bodies are the zones of wars and the sites of politics and policies as revealed in the armed conflicts around the world, transgressions over their reproductive and sexual rights, trafficking, dress codes as well as immigration and refugee policies, etc. Even in countries where traditional patriarchy is transformed, as in the European experience, gender-based discrimination and violence against women continue to persist in modified, subtle and discrete forms. In many of the countries in the European region, where human rights standards and institutions are in place, women’s formal political participation is still extremely low, reproductive rights are an area of continuous contestation and struggle, social entitlements are at risk and single mothers and minority and immigrant women are at the greatest risk of poverty. We need to learn more and understand how gender hierarchies are reproduced under diverse conditions and in different places. The books in this series promise to do that. They illustrate the need for viii

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increased attention from researchers, NGOs and policy-makers throughout Europe for these instances of violations of women’s rights. This series comes at a time when the EU process of enlargement has shown that respect for women’s rights within different regions in Europe is diverse. It is fascinating to see that specific rights for women are protected better in some countries than others while it may also be the case that in the same region other rights for women are less well observed. By illustrating these trends and inconsistencies, this series allows for comparison across the region as well as for reflection on the policy gaps across Europe. The four books cover the areas of trafficking, political participation, social entitlements and reproductive rights in detail, from a multidisciplinary perspective and with contributions from activists, professionals, academics and policy-makers. State-of-the-art debates are reflected upon and burning issues in women’s rights are brought together in one series for the first time. The depth of the arguments, coverage of recent developments and clear focus on their implications for gender equality are most commendable aspects of the series. The books push forward the agenda for all of us and remind us that women’s rights are not protected equally and intrinsically. In fact, the contributions confirm that we still have a way to go to achieve women’s equality in contemporary Europe. This unique and compelling collection is a must for everyone striving for rights, equality and justice! Yakın Ertürk Human Rights Commission Special Rapporteur on Violence against Women, its Causes and Consequences

Acknowledgements This series is the result of the involvement of a large number of people in the work of the Network for European Women’s Rights (NEWR). We would like to thank them all for their input, although we cannot name them all here. We want to thank especially those who spent time and energy discussing the four themes of NEWR during a series of intensive and engaging workshops across Europe and in the final conference in Birmingham. We would also like to thank Professor Donna Dickenson for initiating the project and leading it for two years, and Christien van den Anker for taking over this leadership for the final year of the project, as well as all the other project partners, Itziar Alkorta Idiakez, Francesca Bettio, Jeroen Doomernik, Aitziber Emaldi Cirión, Maria Katsiyianni-Papakonstantinou, Lukas H. Meyer and Irina Novikova, for their contributions. We could not have done the project without the commitment and persistence of Audrey Guichon and the consistent support of Jose Vicente. We thank Rebecca Shah for taking over from Audrey in the final months of the NEWR project and for her thorough editing work of all four volumes in this series. We thank the European Commission for funding the NEWR project under its 5th Framework Programme. We hope that this series of books will contribute positively to the debate on women’s rights and to improving the lives of all women in Europe. With regard to this book, Women’s Political Rights and Citizenship, we would like to thank those activists and researchers from various parts of Europe who participated in the workshops on this topic and shared their thoughts about current problems, future challenges and suggestions for remedies with us. Unfortunately, the participants are too numerous to name but it is they who made this whole project possible. In particular we are grateful to the many activists and NGO representatives who gave up their valuable time to enlighten academics about the burning issues in women’s political rights, political participation and citizenship across Europe. These on-the-ground perspectives were invaluable in determining the content and issues, which this book addresses. We are also most grateful to the institutions that hosted these workshops, the University of Birmingham, the University of Helsinki and the University of Sofia. x

Acknowledgements

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Last but not least, we want to thank Milja Saari for her work in getting this book finished by helping us in checking references and bibliographies. Sirkku K. Hellsten Anne Maria Holli Krassimira Daskalova

Notes on the Contributors Krassimira Daskalova teaches Modern European Cultural History at the Faculty of Philosophy and Social Sciences, St Kliment Ohridski University of Sofia, Bulgaria. Her research interests include the comparative history of Balkan/East European women’s movements; women, gender and the East European transition; the history of (women’s) authorship in modern south-eastern Europe; the history of literacy and reading; the history of women’s education; and the history of the East European intelligentsia in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; oral history. She is the author of two books on Bulgarian cultural history and has edited and co-edited several volumes; she has also published many articles and book chapters on women’s/gender history and the history of the book and reading. Barbara Einhorn is Reader in Gender Studies and Director of Graduate Studies in the School of Social Sciences and Cultural Studies at the University of Sussex. She is Associate Editor of the European Journal of Women’s Studies and a member of the editorial board of the International Feminist Journal of Politics. She has acted as gender consultant to The United Nations women’s programme (UNIFEM), the International Labour Organisation (ILO) and the World Bank. Her research interests include citizenship, civil society and gender politics in the transformation process in Central and Eastern Europe; identity, ‘home’ and belonging for (multiple) migrants; and nation, gender and transformation. She is the author of Citizenship in a Uniting Europe: Nation, Gender and Transformation, Palgrave, forthcoming and Cinderella Goes to Market: Citizenship, Gender and Women’s Movements in East Central Europe, Verso, 1993. Ute Gerhard is Emeritus Professor of Sociology and Director of the Cornelia Goethe Centre for Women’s and Gender Studies at the University of Frankfurt/Main. She works in the fields of law, sociology and history. Her research includes women’s rights, social policy in a European comparison, the history of women, the women’s movement and feminist theory. Among her recent publications are ‘Engendered Citizenship: A Model for European Citizenship? Considerations against the German Background’, in J. Andersen and B. Siim (eds) The Politics of Inclusion and Empowerment. Gender, Class and Citizenship, Palgrave, 2004; and Debating Women’s Equality. Toward a Feminist Theory of Law from a European Perspective, Rutgers University Press, 2001. xii

Notes on the Contributors

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Sirkku K. Hellsten is Reader in Development Ethics and the Director of the Centre for the Study of Global Ethics, University of Birmingham. She is the Coordinator for the political participation theme in the NEWR project. Her main fields of interests are in political philosophy, with a focus on social justice, and in applied ethics, with particular emphasis on development ethics and bioethics. Dr Hellsten has undertaken numerous research projects in these fields in Finland, the USA, New Zealand, Tanzania and in the UK, and has published widely on related topics. Anne Maria Holli is Researcher (Academy of Finland) at the Department of Political Science, University of Helsinki. Her major areas of research are in the fields of public equality policies, gender and politics. Her most recent publications include Discourse and Politics for Gender Equality in Late Twentieth-Century Finland, Helsinki University Press, 2003 and chapters on Finland in the following RNGS books: A. Mazur (ed.) State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Job Training: Making Democracies Work in the Global Economy, Routledge, 2001; J. Outshoorn (ed.) The Politics of Prostitution. Women’s Movements, Democratic States and the Globalisation of Sex Commerce, Cambridge University Press, 2004; J. Lovenduski et al. (eds) Feminism and Political Representation of Women in Europe and North America, Cambridge University Press, 2005; and M. Haussman and B. Sauer (eds) Reconfigured States and Opportunities: Comparative Women’s Movement Strategies since the 1990s, Rowman & Littlefield, 2005. Johanna Kantola obtained her PhD from the University of Bristol, where she is currently working as a post-doctoral researcher. She has published articles on gender and the state in the International Feminist Journal of Politics, European Journal of Women’s Studies and European Political Science and has contributed chapters to various edited volumes. She is also affiliated to the Political Science Department at the University of Helsinki, where she published a monograph, The Mute, the Deaf and the Lost: Gender Equality at the University of Helsinki Political Science Department, University of Helsinki Press, 2005. She is the co-editor of the Finnish Women’s Studies Journal. Petra Meier is research fellow at the Politics Department of the Vrije Universiteit Brussel and the Radboud Universiteit Nijmegen. Her major areas of research are feminist theories on representation, the conceptualisation of measures to promote social groups in decision-making and their interaction with electoral systems, feminist approaches to public policies, the political opportunity structures of the Belgian women’s movement and state feminism. She edited Genre et science politique en Belgique et en

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Francophonie, with Bérengère Marques-Pereira, Academia-Bruylant, 2005; and Vrouwen vertegenwoordigd, Wetstraat gekraakt? Representativiteit feministisch bekeken, with Karen Celis, VUBpress, 2004. She has published in Party Politics, European Political Science, Acta Politica, Res Publica, Tijdschrift voor Sociologie, Ethiek en Maatschappij and in edited volumes. Shirin M. Rai is Professor of Politics and International Studies at the University of Warwick. Her research interests are in the area of feminist politics, democratisation, globalisation and development studies. She has written extensively on issues of gender, governance and democratisation. Author of several books, the most recent being Gender and the Political Economy of Development, Polity Press, 2002. She has also co-edited Rethinking Empowerment: Gender and Development in a Global/Local World, Routledge, 2002, and edited Mainstreaming Gender, Democratizing the State? published for and on behalf of the United Nations by Manchester University Press, 2003, and the Special Issue of the International Feminist Journal of Politics on Gender Governance and Globalization, 6(4) 2004. Hege Skjeie is Associate Professor at the Department of Political Science, University of Oslo. Her research interests include human rights, religion and equality, equality policies, gender politics and party leadership. She is currently involved in projects on Democracy, Religious Freedom and the Human Rights of Women (2004–2008), Gender Equality, Cultural Diversity: European Comparisons and Lessons (2005–2006), and Nordic Gender Equality Discourses (2005–2006). Recent publications in English include: ‘Equality Law and Religious Gender Discrimination: Norwegian Examples’, in S. Cabbibio and K. Børresen (eds) The Impact of Cultural and Religious Gender Models in the European Formation of Socio-Political Human Rights (forthcoming 2005) and, with Anette Borchorst, ‘Changing Patterns of Gender and Power in Society’, NIKK Magasin, 3 (2003). Judith Squires is Professor of Political Theory at the University of Bristol. She is currently working on the changing nature of equality discourses, focusing on gender quotas, gender mainstreaming and diversity management strategies. Her recent publications include: Ethnicity, Nationalism and Minority Rights (co-editor with Tariq Modood and Steven May), Cambridge University Press, 2004; Women in Parliament: A Comparative Analysis, (co-authored with Mark Wickham-Jones), Equal Opportunities Commission, 2001; and Gender in Political Theory, Polity Press, 1999.

List of Abbreviations ACAS ACE CEDAW CEHR CRE CSGE DFID DRC DTI EC ECJ EEC EOC EPZ EU EWL ICERD IMF JHP MEP MP NEWR NGO NYTKIS PAET RNGS SEWA UK UN UNIFEM WAVE WEDO WEU

Advisory, Conciliation and Arbitration Service Accelerated Christian Learning Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination Against Women Commission for Equality and Human Rights Commission for Racial Equality Centre for the Study of Global Ethics UK Department for International Development Disability Rights Commission Department of Trade and Industry European Community European Court of Justice European Economic Community Equal Opportunities Commission Export Processing Zone European Union European Women’s Lobby Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination International Monetary Fund Southeast European Joint Project (an initiative of the Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeastern Europe) Member of the European Parliament Member of Parliament Network of European Women’s Rights Non-Governmental Organisation Coalition of Finnish Women’s Associations for Joint Action Policy Appraisal for Equal Treatment Research Network on Gender, Politics and the State Self-Employed Women’s Association United Kingdom United Nations United Nations Development Fund for Women Women Against Violence Europe Women’s Environment and Development Organisation Women and Equality Unit xv

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List of Abbreviations

WHO WID WIEGO WPA WU

World Health Organisation Women in Development Women in Informal Employment: Globalising and Organising Women’s Policy Agency Women’s Unit

Introduction Sirkku K. Hellsten, Anne Maria Holli and Krassimira Daskalova

This book is part of a four-volume series based on the findings of a three-year project, the Network for European Women’s Rights (NEWR), funded by the European Commission 5th Framework. The objective of NEWR was to study women’s rights in Europe across four sub-themes: trafficking; reproductive rights; political participation; and social entitlements. NEWR has set up a thematic network on the topic of women’s rights as human rights by bringing together expertise and encouraging dialogue across disciplines and among the countries of Eastern and Western Europe. Launched in October 2002, it is a continuous source of information and a platform capable of influencing the policy-making process, especially in Europe. The project is led by the Centre for the Study of Global Ethics (CSGE), University of Birmingham, together with nine partners across Europe: the University of Siena, the University of Amsterdam, the University of Bremen, the University of Deusto, the University of the Basque Country, the University of Helsinki, the University of Sofia, Panteion University and the University of Latvia. This volume on Women’s Rights in Europe focuses on the NEWR theme of political participation and citizenship. Its purpose is to disseminate the NEWR findings and to convey a sense of the challenges and opportunities for gender justice and active citizenship in integrating Europe. It is based on the identification of the burning issues of women’s political participation and citizenship that were raised during the project networking and research. The issues were identified as: 1. 2. 3. 4.

Equality discourses and the importance of a normative debate. Globalisation and state transformation. Forces of resistance. The impact of different waves of EU accession talks. 1

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Sirkku K. Hellsten, Anne Maria Holli and Krassimira Daskalova

5. Accountability and implementation strategies. 6. Alliances with other equal opportunity, so-called vulnerable groups. 7. The impact of changes in the representation of women on the political/policy agenda. 8. The generation gap in the feminist movement in the 1990s. 9. Access to resources; economic and power structures. The chapters that follow deal with and bring together these issues, discussing them from both theoretical and empirical points of view. The theme of this book, women’s political participation and citizenship in Europe, is extremely broad and multi-layered, particularly in a time of political and economic transition in Eastern Europe and the related expansion of the European Union (EU). Before we can evaluate which strategies work best in promoting women’s equal political participation and full citizenship we need to analyse the concepts of citizenship, political participation, feminist discourses and gender equality. Thus, discussion of women’s political participation and citizenship calls for both theoretical and empirical political analysis of concepts such as equality, gender, citizenship, democracy, discrimination, feminism and many others, as well as of political and social institutions and attempts to reform them. Understanding the current status of women’s political participation and citizenship in Europe also requires that we pay attention to the role and position of the multiplicity of actors relevant to the field, such as supranational and governmental bodies, political parties, non-governmental organisations, civil society and other formal organisations, such as administration, education and women’s movements, as well as informal networks. The enlargement of the EU has allowed activists and academics to confront some of the ‘false rhetoric’ of gender equality that prevailed under socialist regimes, to compare women’s position under different political and economic orders, and to reconsider the burning issues related to attempts to achieve gender equality across Europe. The comparative studies and increasing collaboration between the formerly socialist Eastern and Central European countries and Western Europe has created the opportunity to bring into discussion and under new evaluation various national gender equality machineries, on the one hand; and on the other, it has brought the disparities in gender policies back onto the agenda of political debates in various parts of Europe as well as within the political organs of the EU. Strategies for improving women’s position are various and differ between European countries. Gender mainstreaming is a central pillar of

Introduction

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European policies on gender equality; quotas are the subject of highly contested debates, often linked to their misuse throughout history; and the recourse to adopting positive action measures is not provided for – let alone in use – in many countries across Europe. The variety of means available for achieving gender-equal political participation reflects how far we are from full equality between women and men in politics. Part I of this volume focuses on the theoretical framework related to political participation and women’s rights as human rights. Feminist theorists have argued for the gendered nature of citizenship. This is also the standpoint supported by Shirin M. Rai in Chapter 1, ‘Dilemmas of Political Participation’. Rai shows that feminist theorising on citizenship has been looking for ways to overcome the shortcomings of the concept by reconceptualising citizenship from a more encompassing perspective, developing ideas on how to include gender in democratic theorising or how to develop new theories of democracy with a feminist face. In order to find a solution more comprehensive understandings of citizenship are required, notably social citizenship and ideas of deliberative democracy. Rai notes that European politics is increasingly reflective of the dilemmas and challenges of the politics of citizenship. On the one hand, there are ongoing debates about the relationship between the nation-state (the traditional site conferring citizenship) and the regional and supranational institutions of the EU. There are concerns about identities and accountabilities, borders and regulations. On the other hand, there is an acknowledgement of the expanded sense of Europe and expanded citizenship thereafter, and how this links to the wider world. Rai discusses how participation has been a language of both inclusion and exclusion; of a vibrant civil society as well as a dysfunctional politics. She reflects on the complexity of the issues of citizenship and political participation, particularly with regard to the differences among women, engagements with institutions of power and the experience of participation they have. Her conclusion is that political participation is an important measure of the confidence that women have in the development of states and polities, but it is not quantifiable without taking into account the changing context of our global society. In Chapter 2 Ute Gerhard expands the theme of citizenship by studying ‘European Citizenship: A Political Opportunity for Women?’ She presents historical models of citizenship across Europe and shows how the inclusion and exclusion introduced by Rai have actually worked in European political history. Gerhard notes that the forces of ‘globalisation’ in their various forms (e.g. immigration, trafficking in women, transnational corporations, neoliberal reconfiguration of welfare states)

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not only challenge the boundaries between the national and the transnational, the local and the global, the economy and politics, but also point in a variety of ways to theoretical and practical problems, gendered and ethnicised injustice among them, embedded in our understandings and practical application of ‘citizenship’ as a right and an enabling precondition for participation. Gerhard focuses on Europe as a community of law with respect to women’s gains and losses, and discusses whether European citizenship might be an option for women. Here the question is whether and how far the Draft Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe reconsiders women’s rights. This aspect will be of interest in order to discuss the European integration process as a political opportunity for the empowerment of women. The idea of European citizenship has developed together with the formation and enlargement of the EU, but has remained a top-down concept with which individuals have not established spontaneous connections. From a gender perspective, the building of the EU has also contributed to a certain extent to gender equality, and even if some critiques suggest that progress in that field is exclusively enjoyed by working women, today European citizenship has extended beyond its previous limitation to the economic sphere. This extension allows for women’s multiple constitutive identities and divergences to be expressed, while contributing to the creation of a certain European sphere made of a ‘multiple, layered system of rights, obligations and loyalties’.1 However, European citizenship cannot be prejudicial to the level of social protection of a given country since it will remain a national prerogative. In Chapter 3, ‘Can Feminism Survive Capitalism? Challenges Feminist Discourses Face in Promoting Women’s Rights in post-Soviet Europe’ Sirkku K. Hellsten discusses the problem of achieving solidarity between European women, by focusing on the paradoxes that feminist discourses face in relation to the promotion of women’s rights in today’s Europe. She notes that the various feminist approaches in Eastern as well as Western Europe are embedded in their particular historical and socioeconomic frameworks and sometimes appear incompatible and unable to work together in current European political and economic practice. Particularly in transitional societies, this makes the situation for women’s rights advocacy confusing, to say the least. Post-socialist feminism faces a dilemma whether to continue to believe in the values of socialist solidarity, whether to grapple with individualist liberal values from within the liberal feminist framework (and by engaging in related NGO projects), or whether to be post-Soviet, post-socialist and postmodern altogether by declaring all ‘the great stories dead’ and turning to more anarchistic feminist approaches.

Introduction

5

Hellsten argues that the various Western formulations of feminism, for their part, need to be clear in their normative agenda and avoid turning into a flagship for liberal democracy, which acts as a Trojan horse to smuggle in individualist and capitalist values to replace the remnants of egalitarian ideologies, which – after all – originally provided the most powerful ideological critique of capitalist injustice and its negative impact on women’s rights. Her main claim is that women’s rights advocates need to redirect their focus on the wider structural issues, such as the future directions of liberal democracy and its economic policies. While it might be essential to teach women across Europe how to survive capitalism, it is at least as important to unite – rather than assimilate – women’s movements in the region, and the world as a whole, in order to have more influence on local and global economic policies and move in a direction in which equality and social justice, rather than gender issues alone, are the common goals of all the parties of interest: men and women across Europe. In Chapter 4 Barbara Einhorn expands on the theme of ‘Citizenship, Civil Society and Gender Mainstreaming: Complexities of Political Transformation in Central and Eastern Europe’. She focuses on three crucial issues impacting on women’s political participation in the region, fifteen years since the end of the Cold War: 1) the multiple levels of social, economic and political transformation constituting both the context and opportunity structures of political change; 2) contestations about the analysis of the situation, particularly the relevance of Western feminist theories; and 3) debates about the most appropriate strategies for achieving gender-equitable political participation. Einhorn shows that while involvement in civil society and NGOs has long been women’s most common platform for political engagement and change, it is problematised in post-Soviet Europe. In the former socialist countries, women’s NGOs flourished after the fall of communism and throughout the 1990s. In the Balkans, although perceived as non-feminist, women’s organisations provided the most efficient space for women’s empowerment. Yet the process that fostered the creation of all these women’s organisations was not without problems. Women’s NGOs and grass-roots activist groups now tend to fill the vacuum created where the state has withdrawn from public service provision. This has created a ‘trap’ for women, which at least in part derives from the idealisation of civil society, which followed the fall of state socialism. Civil society was seen as the epitome of democratic space, which had been lacking earlier, by both dissident activists and (primarily male) theorists within the region, and by Western analysts and international donor agencies.

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Both Einhorn and Hellsten point out that limited funds mean that women’s NGOs are rarely able to initiate large-scale projects, but instead concentrate on voluntary work or social services through a framework of programmes initiated by Western donors, who also bring in liberal ideology which tends to undermine and diminish the local feminist discourses and set aside local attempts to use the socialist and communist concept of equality to promote social justice that treats women as equal to men. Financial investments by international donors have contributed as much to the mushrooming of women’s organisations as to their shift in mandates or downright dissolution: for example, international aid has facilitated the involvement of many women in the ‘reconstruction’ effort, especially in post-conflict zones. There is an ‘NGO-isation’ of feminism or, in other words, the ‘co-option of the feminist agenda by the interests of the state’.2 Women’s NGOs, however, tend to be unstable and often permeable entities facing many difficulties in financing and organisation. They have difficulties in maintaining their identity and keeping their profile, while trying to adjust to donors’ expectations. The sustainability of women’s NGOs is at considerable risk in many postSoviet societies and many of them dissolve after the completion of a particular project and after exhausting the funds available to them. Thus, women’s organisations in these countries today are often subjected to constraints that threaten their very nature and existence. Paradoxically at the same time ‘NGO-isation’ is taking space and women’s labour and time away from more traditionally ‘political’ efforts, e.g. participation in parties or directly feminist organisations. This is a burning issue in the former socialist countries (where women’s political representation declined after the transition) as well as in many Western countries in the context of welfare state reconfiguration and downsizing (such as in the Nordic countries). The basic question is: are women ‘cheated’ into participating as grass-roots service-providers, without a say in the formulation of public policies and the larger issues of the society they live in? In Chapter 5 Hege Skjeie explores the complexities and debates surrounding the discourses on gender equality. Her chapter, ‘“Gender Equality”: On Travel Metaphors and Duties to Yield’, reveals that even in those European countries, and particularly in Scandinavia, in which equality is considered to be at a high level, there is a persistent pattern of patriarchy which continuously demands gender equality to yield in the face of other societal values, and lately also of other human rights and equity issues, such as issues relating to religious or cultural rights. Skjeie also points out that, particularly in the Nordic countries (Finland,

Introduction

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Sweden, Norway, Iceland and Denmark), there has been a tendency to be over-optimistic about ‘being almost there’ when it comes to gender equality when in reality all these countries still have a long way to go to achieve gender-neutral social justice. She identifies the ‘travel metaphor of equality’. This refers to the state of affairs in the Nordic countries where women’s organisations, and society at large, admit that while some problems might remain, they certainly are well on their way to gender justice. Consequently, since these countries can see that the goal is in sight, they feel there is no need to take more radical action. Instead, feminists in the region can compare their achievements among each other (‘Who is the closest to the goal?’) – and against those countries that still have a longer way to go (particularly the newly independent, transitional post-Soviet countries). Skjeie points out that it is often overlooked that, despite optimistic enthusiasm, the goal of gender equality in fact appears to recede in the process of trying to reach it, and that women’s rights, to an increasing degree, are now made to yield in favour of other human rights issues related to religious freedom, cultural integrity or ethnic identity. In contrast to the theoretical focus adopted in Part I, Part II presents empirical research concerned with more concrete problems and barriers to women’s political participation and full citizenship and strategies to improve them. The problems appear in many guises, ranging from outdated and patriarchal attitudes apparent at individual, institutional and cultural levels to the existence of exclusive political structures (for example, in electoral systems, political recruitment, the organisation of political and administrative institutions and political processes) and ideologies that do not fully accommodate women as participants or gender as a legitimate concern in policy-making. Challenging these barriers to women’s citizenship has been a central strategy for feminist activism and scholarship since the rise of second-wave feminism in the 1960s, and even before. However, the reforms achieved by women’s efforts are also bound to be compromised by a major historical challenge to their permanent character; namely, that political institutions and contexts are in a constant state of flux as a result of other demands and external pressures, too. In these processes, women’s achievements may be lost, if not by intention, then by neglecting to pay attention to their preservation. In a way, the challenge of politics lies in its contingent nature; that institutions and political contexts do not stay fixed but are re-created continuously. This demands careful analysis by all of us to be aware of what the changes imply for women’s citizenship. This is especially true today, as

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the transition of Central and Eastern Europe to post-communism, the enlargement of the EU, neoliberal economics and the shifts between the role of the nation-state and supranational decision-making constitute a series of forces of change, unprecedented in peacetime Europe. The following empirical chapters address precisely these issues, between the constants of women’s political exclusion and devaluation and the forces of change pulling in different directions, in today’s Europe. For example, the dynamic of the EU accession process has been referred to as a potential catalyst for efforts towards greater gender equality. While it is agreed that women have been particularly affected by the transition to a market economy (some women more so than others), it is also true that the transition has had an effect on equality legislation. During the NEWR workshops some argued that ‘the closer a country is to accession, the greater the level of gender equality’. Others contested that the element of proximity to accession is a sufficient criterion, but admitted that the accession process nevertheless creates pressures and conditions that contribute to improving gender equality. It can be said to be positive only in so far as it brings gender equality issues onto the domestic political agenda. However, especially in the Nordic countries where gender equality has traditionally been considered to be already well achieved, some scholars observe that the combined impacts of ‘Europeanisation’ seem multifaceted and contradictory from the viewpoint of increasing women’s rights. In Chapter 6, ‘Education and European Women’s Citizenship: Images of Women in Bulgarian History Textbooks’, Krassimira Daskalova discusses the role of education and cultural values for women’s political participation and citizenship. Daskalova suggests a feminist (resisting) reading of the (sexist) (mis)representations of women in Bulgarian history textbooks published during the period of transition after 1989. Her text is one more example that the so-called ‘turning points’ of history do not transform the lives of women and men in the same way. The representation of women and their experiences are still largely missing from the new national history canon, demonstrating the sexist biases of the new educational politics parading as civic and liberal. In tune with the ideas developed by many feminist theoreticians who have shown that the concepts of nation-state, citizenship and liberalism are not genderneutral, Daskalova argues that the official discourse developed in school textbooks after 1989 can be seen as a hidden programme for civic education; that what is at stake now is the formation of the civic identity of future generations of European citizens; that if we want contemporary education to build a tolerant, multicultural and pluralistic European

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civil society in the future, women should enter The His(s)tory. As Daskalova insists, one of the strategies for implementing gender justice and equal citizenship entails a cultural change from social models where women are defined as ‘minors’, or mainly in relation to their reproductive capacities, to models in which they are defined as persons, individuals and citizens, entitled to take part equally in public institutions of every contemporary European society. In Chapter 7, ‘Strong Together? A Comparative Study of the Impact of the Women’s Movement on Policy-Making in Finland’, Anne Maria Holli explores the question of women’s substantive representation. Holli examines when and how various women’s constituencies succeed in inserting their concerns in public policies. Drawing on the results of a large, international, comparative project, Holli addresses some of the perennial issues concerning women’s participation and representation by illustrating that women’s inclusion does indeed matter. Including women’s movements in the policy-making process tends to produce more satisfactory policy outcomes from the women’s point of view. The openness of the policy sub-system, the presence of left-wing power, some characteristics of women’s movements (inclusion of women’s movements that are close to the Left, the cohesiveness of movements and the high priority of the issue at stake) as well as the backing of a state women’s policy agency are shown to play a crucial role in determining women’s policy success. However, as Holli argues, these factors may combine in different ways in different countries to produce similar outcomes. Focusing on Finland, she illustrates this in practice by pinpointing the movement strategies and institutional mechanisms which have contributed to Finnish women’s relatively high policy success in that specific national context. The analysis also highlights the problems that Finnish-type ‘party feminism’ faces between party and gender concerns, providing food for thought on the possibilities and pitfalls of politicising gender in precisely those legislative and party contexts that are supposed to provide the solutions for problems concerning women’s participation and citizenship. In Chapter 8, ‘Transnational and National Gender Equality Politics: The European Union’s Impact on Domestic Violence Debates in Britain and Finland’, which focuses on domestic violence policy, Johanna Kantola investigates one of the most salient topics in a context of an enlarging Europe, namely the impact of supranational EU discourses on domestic discourse and policies, and vice versa. Kantola shows that the EU plays an important role in negotiating new conceptions of gender equality, and thus forms a potential arena of reforms in the realisation

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of European women’s rights and full citizenship. In the field of domestic violence, as Kantola’s analysis illustrates, the EU has provided member states with new actors, discourses, institutions and policies. Its impact has been notable especially in Finland, where domestic violence policy had traditionally been weak. While it is often assumed that it is the developing countries that benefit from the international influence in terms of advancing gender equality, Kantola clearly illustrates that the EU and transnational discourses can also benefit countries which are internationally thought of as pioneers in gender equality. However, the other side of the picture that Kantola paints points to the continuing power of national discourses. The EU member states also learn from one another and for their part influence the EU to produce new conceptions of gender equality and initiatives to advance women’s status. In Chapter 9, ‘Implementing Gender Equality: Gender Mainstreaming or the Gap between Theory and Practice’, Petra Meier takes up the ‘latest’ answer to gender equality problems by the EU, that is, gender mainstreaming, and explores its problematic and weak implementation in practice. She focuses on the potential of gender mainstreaming to achieve gender equality taking the political and institutional setting of the public policy into account. She analyses the definition of gender mainstreaming and shows that whether it can be evaluated to be a success or a failure often depends on the definition adopted. The concept of gender mainstreaming promises a lot and raises high expectations, but it is also a very demanding task and thus depends on the goals set whether it is a beneficial strategy for improving women’s rights. Contrasting the prerequisites for gender mainstreaming with what are considered to be sufficient conditions for an effective implementation of public policies more generally, Meier shows not only that gender mainstreaming shares the typical external constraints affecting the implementation of public policies, but also that it faces particular internal restrictions. Furthermore, contrasting an ideal condition of gender equality with everyday practices of policymaking shows that the different problems related to the implementation of gender mainstreaming reinforce each other. To be able to mainstream gender in public policies better, Meier argues, we need to be aware of which problems relate to the implementation of gender mainstreaming specifically and how to deal with them. In the concluding chapter, ‘Good Governance and Good for Business Too? Equality and Diversity in Britain’, Judith Squires brings together the various themes discussed in the earlier chapters in her study of the pursuit of gender equality in Britain. She claims that the struggle for gender equality was previously framed by arguments for social justice

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and inclusive citizenship with limited focus on the labour markets, but is now increasingly addressed as part of a wider ‘equality and diversity’ strategy, framed by arguments for economic productivity and applied widely to all aspects of social, economic and political citizenship. Squires suggests, via an exploration of both gender mainstreaming and diversity management in Britain and the EU, that whilst both mainstreaming and diversity have theoretical appeal to radical political democrats and theorists, they are conceived, defended and implemented in ways that aim to appeal to business sector interests. Although quite different in their derivation, both the diversity and mainstreaming discourses share certain features. Both are increasingly framed by considerations of good governance and economic competitiveness such that they marginalise social justice issues and egalitarian citizenship. When we reflect on all the topics discussed in this book Squires’ conclusion appears to summarise well the state of today’s gender equality and the emphasis related to the concern for women’s rights in the integrating Europe. It clearly appears that amongst the complexity of all the developments, two key features emerge: the pursuit of equality is bound up with modernisation and the practices of a new form of governance; and the conceptual framing of equality is shifting from a concern with egalitarian citizenship to one of economic productivity. Returning to Skjeie’s rhetoric: we still have a long way to go and need to plan for the many steps that must be taken to build a united Europe that is striving for true social justice.

Notes 1. U. Gerhard, ‘Gendered Citizenship: a Model for European Citizenship’. Paper presented at the Sofia workshop for NEWR, March 2004, p. 11. 2. B. Einhorn, ‘Political Participation: Some Key Issues in the Context of Political Transformation in Central and Eastern Europe’. Paper presented in Birmingham for the launch workshop of NEWR, January 2003, p. 6.

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Part I Theoretical Feminist Perspectives

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1 Dilemmas of Political Participation Shirin M. Rai

Introduction In an ‘era of globalisation’ political participation and citizenship are issues that need to be discussed within a wider global context that reaches beyond the borders of Europe. European politics is increasingly reflective of the dilemmas and challenges of the politics of citizenship. On the one hand, there are ongoing debates about the relationship between the nation-state (the traditional site securing citizenship) and the regional institutions of the European Union (EU). There are concerns about identities and accountabilities, borders and regulations. On the other, there is an acknowledgement of the expanded sense of ‘Europe’, and expanded citizenship therefore, and its links to the wider world. Due to the changing structures of international relations, new laws and policies on immigration (on national and regional levels, that is, the EU, African Union and any other regional arrangements), and new forms of multilateral co-operation (such as international civil society networking within and without Europe), political participation cannot be understood without taking into consideration that wider context. Theoretically, political participation has a long genealogy. Like most concepts that we use today, this is an unfolding concept. From the direct participation of the Greek city-states to the Schumpeterian model of participation in elections, the concept has been central to our conversations about democracy. There are several ‘myths’ about participation that we can examine: Participation is good in itself – it creates the stake people have in society; it legitimises decisions that are taken in the name of people in society; it allows individuals to relate to each other as participants in a common cause; it educates us in a civic culture which is crucial for the stability of the polity. Participatory politics allows for claims to be made 15

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against the state – freedom of speech, movement, association, what we would consider human rights today could be said to have evolved in response to the needs of participatory politics. Participation took the form of military service in the defence of the state, from which flowed the rights of citizenship. From Jean-Jacques Rousseau to Karl Marx, there is a strain of thought that focuses on participation as a marker of a good and unalienated society, where citizens have control over not only their representatives, but also the political agendas set by the state and its institutions. On the other hand, there is also the myth that participation is destabilising – from Socrates to Samuel Huntington participation has been regarded as problematic. It brings into public discourse voices that are unfit to be heard – racism, sexism and ethnic cleansing have all been articulated in the public sphere and legitimised through the language of participation and of fundamental rights of speech, movement and association; it allows the loudest voices to be heard – the rule of the mob instead of Reason; is a luxury for the privileged – the costs of participation are met by those who cannot afford to participate; levels of participation can prove destabilising in the absence of strong controlling mechanisms of state power; participation is therefore problematic and threatening and needs to be framed within representative institutions where the voice of Reason might be better heard. Participation thus has been a language of both inclusion and exclusion; of a vibrant civil society as well as a dysfunctional politics.

Feminist theorising participation: movements, citizenship and democratisation Feminist theorising has largely supported the importance of the participatory politics and practice at different levels – grass-roots as well as global. It is through their participation in these movements that women and women’s groups have been able to stake a claim to citizenship and equal representation in political life and institutions. The points of departure for women participating in various movements have been different, as have been the political contexts – colonialism, military dictatorships, authoritarian regimes, religious states (Jayawardena, 1989; Bystydzienski and Sekhon, 1999). These contexts have influenced the forms this participation has taken – women’s participation in the suffragette movements in England and the United States, peaceful mass participation as part of mainstream, organised political action such as the Indian national movement, negotiations with religious authorities over a long period of time such as in the Islamic Republic of Iran, struggles for

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human rights in Chile, Guatemala and other states, where violence as a means of social control was paramount, or participation in armed struggles at different levels such as those in China, Algeria and South Africa (Rai, 2000). The constituencies of women that participated, as well those who did not or were unable to, are important indicators of the politics of these movements as well as their long-term impact. While reflecting on the exclusionary practices of states and organisations, feminists have also examined how participation in political movements is not uninfluenced by the cleavages of class, caste, religion and ethnicity – the differences among women as well as between women and men are important in shaping the future agendas for struggle. Women’s political participation in these oppositional movements has highlighted one of the most important anomalies for democratic practice – the distinction made between the public and the private spheres. Women have, even as part of mainstream political movements, been characterised in terms of motherhood – they have been spoken of as the reproducers of nations and ethnicities, as bearers of cultural norms as makers of traditions, of embodying the past and future of nations. Women’s groups have been in the forefront of challenging the separation between the public and the private. For example, in the democratisation movements against the military dictatorship, we saw Chilean women call for democracy in the home as well as in politics. However, these struggles have not always been successful. Women’s participation has often legitimised movements without necessarily resulting in women’s political visibility much less representative parity for them. Agendasetting for political movements has reflected this dichotomous thinking. Together with other feminists I have argued that political priorities have often been fashioned to accommodate the dominant power relations, and to postpone the struggles against these (Stacey, 1983; Helie-Lucas, 1991; Rai, 1996, 2002). Feminist arguments against a distinction between the public and the private spheres have been long and well made (Pateman, 1989). While radical feminists have seen the obliteration of this distinction as necessary to democracy that is inclusive of gender-based difference, others have seen such a bridging of the public and private as transitory – a phase that would allow the entry of women into the public arena as independent actors (Phillips, 1995, 1999). Feminists have also pointed to the diversity of women’s histories and the experiences of ‘the public’ on account of class, race, disability and sexuality to argue for the essentially contingent and contested nature of the debate on the distinction between the public and the private spheres (Lister, 1997: 122–5). Some feminist

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scholars have argued that while democratising the private domain is crucial for women’s participation in the public, it ought not to be confused with issues of civic participation and rights (Dietz, 1992; Mouffe, 1992). Young, for example, has stressed the importance of maintaining the separation between the two spheres. She suggests that the private sphere should be thought of as ‘that aspect of his or her life and activity that any person has the right to exclude from others. The private in this sense is not what public institutions exclude,’ she argues, ‘but what the individual chooses to withdraw from public view’ (Young, 1990: 119–20). Lister, quite rightly, points out the problems with this articulation of the public– private divide: ‘it does leave open the question as to which individuals have the power to make their choices stick’ (1997, p. 121). Like the others cited above, I would question particular constructions of the distinctions between the public and private spheres. I would also emphasise, however, the need for a simultaneous, but parallel, democratisation of both the public and the private spheres. Here I would insist with Dietz on keeping the two domains separate. It is important, I would argue, to mark a conscious transition that women must make to politicise the issues that affect them within the private sphere. Rather than focusing on the issue of exclusion from the private sphere, I would emphasise the terms of inclusion into the public sphere. I would suggest that it is only through making the private public that we can move forward on this issue. While not entirely answering the question of agency raised by Lister, such an understanding of the bringing together of the public and the private would do so in part through the social mobilisation of women (and men) on particular issues in the public sphere. As Kandiyoti (1991) has pointed out, such negotiations might involve bargains with patriarchy. These would necessarily involve, as Molyneux (1998) has discussed, making analytical distinctions between strategic and practical interests. However, I would argue, both these processes could contribute, in different ways in different contexts, to making women’s ‘private’ experiences and struggles political. Within the feminist movements the claim to participation has gone hand in hand with claims to citizenship. The concept of citizenship itself has evoked vigorous debates over meanings as well as the materiality of participative politics. In the 1980s we saw citizenship linked to the embodied participation of a stakeholder, which generated a deeply exclusionary discourse, in the words of Bina Agarwal (1997), of membership as opposed to one of usufruct rights. On a more positive note, debates about civil society embraced citizenship rights and led to a revisiting of the Marshallian analysis of the concept in its three forms: individual rights,

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political rights and socioeconomic rights. The latter further led to the examination of entitlements to citizenship in the context of economic retrenchment. Globalisation debates have led scholars to consider the local as well as global implications of citizenship in the context of elite embeddedness (Kothari, 1995). Feminist scholars have been engaged in all these debates. Some are worried about the impact of macroeconomic neoliberal policies on the erosion of citizenship rights, while others are hopeful of new terrains of social participation in the context of expansion of politics under globalisation. Constitutional change and debates on citizenships are perhaps one area where the activism of the women’s movements at both the global and national levels, international pressure through the various United Nations (UN) conferences, and the establishment of national machineries for women have been able to open up new territory for gender equality. Legal and constitutional reforms promoted in many countries have resonated with the theoretical and strategic debates on women’s interests and with the feminist scholarship in the area of citizenship. It is in the operationalising of particular citizenships that we can view the contexts within which new claims to citizenship rights might be made and others extended. The struggles over what it means to be a citizen, the terms on which citizenship can be crafted, the need to acknowledge differences among populations and also an insistence on equal citizenship rights, as well as the reopening of settled arrangements in the context of economic and social changes in the polity, all form part of this unfolding process. Feminist scholars have written extensively on citizenship, arguing that it is an important as well as a contested concept (Lister, 1997: 3). It has been argued that: modern citizenship is inserted into a social field … [where] freedom, autonomy and the right to be different … are pitched against the regulating forces of modernity and the state, and subverted by discourses of ‘culture and tradition’ – of nationalism, religiosity and the family. (Werbner and Yuval-Davis, 1999: 1) Citizenship is thus embedded in the dominant social relations in particular contexts, while at the same time appearing as a universal discourse of rights. Feminist scholars have felt this ambiguity acutely and pointed out the term has as often been used in struggles to secure greater standing within the national political arena as it has ‘often simultaneously functioned to justify the exclusion of other members of the national community’ (Narayan, 1997: 49). Citizenship can be exclusionary in

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two ways: first, by denying national citizenship to individuals it can be used to reject the ‘human’ claims of those who are thus denied; and second, by individualising citizenship it limits the political space to acknowledge collective rights to citizenship, and therefore an historically embedded understanding of citizenship (Kymlicka, 1995). Citizenship has also been important to the discussions on gender and democratisation. Perhaps here more than anywhere else, we are conscious of the changed international political climate. We also become aware of the political context of the old and new democracies, and of transitional or fragile democracies within which women have to negotiate their citizenships. In transitional societies the terms of women’s inclusion in political life have been important (Blacklock and MacDonald, 2000; Zulu, 2000). However, these debates on citizenship are taking different forms, depending on the nature of transitions. So in South Africa, given the history of systematic exclusion of black people from the polity, the focus of political debate has been on constitutional provisions for an engendered citizenship. In Guatemala and Mexico, the experience of military dictatorships has seen the women’s movements shifting the debate from a citizenship-based to a human rights-based discourse. This shift is visible in other states, where liberalisation is creating tensions around the environment, or displacement of peoples, or of conditions of employment. In countries where the transition has included a dismantling of economic state structures such as in the Eastern European countries and in Russia, citizenship debates have necessarily had to take on board the new economic realities (Jereska, 1998; Einhorn, 2000). The question of entitlements to citizenship has then become important. What this very rapid trawl through the participation theory and practice shows is that political participation has a chequered history, which is reflected in the dominant social relations through the regimes of inclusion and exclusion and is shaped by the struggles to alter these regimes. It is interesting to note that political participation is no longer being juxtaposed to representative politics. In the colonised world, this suspicion of state institutions has not been so much in evidence. The fight for national recognition was one in which in most countries women and men participated together. The forms that this participation took were deeply gendered, but the promise of a postcolonial equality of citizenship held this alliance together regardless. However, the terms of this participation permeated processes of state formation and the levels of women’s presence in state institutions remained low. In western polities, the engagement of feminists with the state was more problematic. While the liberal feminists engaged the state on policy reform, radical and socialist feminists saw the

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state as part of the problem of patriarchal oppression of women rather than as a solution. Overall, we had to wait until the 1980s, when changing economic and political conditions led to a serious engagement of women’s groups with state institutions in both the North and the South. During the 1980s, with the expansion of NGO networks and their inclusion, in a consultative capacity, in institutions of governance, new avenues of engagement with the state and international bodies were opened up. The fall of the Soviet Union also translated into a third ‘wave of democratisation’, which during the 1990s came to include governance institutions in consolidated democracies and international bodies such as the UN in the context of pressures of globalisation. This allowed the gap between institutions and movements to narrow. The focus shifted to participation in and dialogue with institutions. As a result, strategies for increased levels of representation of women in public institutions have been explored – quotas for women, parity representation, new equal opportunity legislation in employment and provision of appropriate social infrastructure for women to be able to participate in political life. We can review the engagement of women’s groups with the state in three different fields. The first is that of participation in political institutions. They have insisted on the importance of representation of women in these institutions from different standpoints – that women do politics differently/better, or that it is just that historically excluded groups be allowed a say in the ‘governing’ that affects their lives. Strategising for this, feminists have argued for quotas for women in political institutions in order to make women more visible and audible in political processes. They have also engaged with political institutions by participating in bureaucracies, policy-making bodies and representative organisations under the broad principles of gender mainstreaming (McBride, Stetson and Mazur, 1995; Miller and Razavi, 1998; Rai, 2003). The second arena, which links the state debate with that on democratisation, is that of women organising in the informal and formal sectors and spaces of politics – women’s movements, human rights groups, functional lobbying groups such as the Self-employed Women’s Association (SEWA) and Women in Informal Employment: Globalizing and Organizing (WIEGO). These groups have lobbied governance institutions at all levels from the outside. The focus has been both the protection of their members as well as lobbying for shifts in state policy. Women’s movements have been grappling with the issue of the changing role of the state. As the sites of production and reproduction shift within states, as new regimes of production make for different forms of work – part-time, flexible, concentrated in export processing zones, migratory – women are having to

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organise differently. While the state continues to be a central focus of women’s mobilisation on various issues, supra-territorial strategies are increasingly employed in order to counter the state, to delegitimise its position or to mobilise global discursive regimes in their interests. So, women’s groups have participated in ethical trading initiatives (Hale, 2004), as well as challenged the erosion of welfare provision and pressed for gender-sensitising economic policies at the global as well as the local level (O’Brien et al., 2000). The third area of feminist intervention is that of developing political and epistemic networks that feed into policy institutions as well as debates. Feminist scholarship in the fields of economics as well as development studies has unpacked key economic concepts, particularly the crucial concept of work: What constitutes work? How is it reflected in economic documents that form the basis of policy-making? And how, alternatively, might work be assessed, analysed and reflected in public debates? (Rubery, 1988; Bakker, 1994; Bakker and Gill, 2003). Gender budget groups in many countries have done useful work in discovering the male bias in economic accounting for the work of women and the impact of this on economic policy-making and its impact on the lives of both men and women (Elson, 2004). These groups have engaged in discussions with Treasury departments with intellectual expertise and political commitment to attempt to make transparent the contribution of women to the economy. If the state is a participant in the reconstitution of its own relations with the global political economy, then it continues to be a focus for the struggles against this changing relation, whether it is from (dis-)organised labour in the urban or the rural context, or from other social movements (Rai, 2002). The nation-state as the focus of developmental struggles allows historical knowledge of traditions, cultures and political contexts to be mobilised with greater facility than the amorphous ‘international economic institutions’ peopled by shadowy figures not visible to the local oppositional struggles. Thus, state accountability and the space for political participation for both men and women form an important part of the understanding of governance for many women’s groups at both the national and the global levels (Tambiah, 2002). Around these struggles new markers of inclusion and exclusion have developed, but these are increasingly being viewed in the context of globalisation.

Globalisation and the terms of political participation Feminists have and are engaging and extending the debates on globalisation from different perspectives (Sen and Grown, 1985; Mies and

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Shiva, 1993; Chang and Ling, 2000; Rai, 2002; Peterson, 2003). Faced with new challenges, feminists have also sought to examine and theorise how globalisation is changing political activism at grassroots level as well as at the level of global institutions (Basu, 1995; Cockburn, 1998; Stienstra, 2000; Waylen and Rai, 2004). While some feminist scholars have focused on communicative expansion that has been brought about by globalisation (Eisenstein, 1998), others have been concerned about global economic regimes. In particular global production and structural adjustment policies that are affecting women’s lives directly and indirectly, reshaping gender relations within the home and in the workplace (Afshar and Dennis, 1991; Elson, 1995, 2004; Jackson and Pearson, 1998; Beneria, 1999; Runyan, 1999) have been the focus of attention, as have been issues of security and insecurity, and of well-being (Elson, 1995). In terms of political activism, feminist scholars have built on and stretched further the ideas of ‘borders’ and a ‘borderless world’ through studies of women’s migration (Pellerin, 1998; Kofman, 2000; Staudt, 2004), world communities such as those based on religion (Moghissi, 1999; Karam, 2000), and by examining the growing density of women’s networking through informal and formal organisational structures (Stienstra, 2000; Liebowitz, 2002). One of the key contemporary political debates regarding globalisation is the perceived shift from (state) government to (global) governance. What does the shift from government to governance signify, and what have been the ramifications of this shift for political participation? Are the terms of political participation shifting in the light of the changing relations between state and supra-state institutions? How can we participate in supra-territorial institutions when national institutions have proved to be so unnameable to politically marginal groups? Have technological advances that have ‘networked’ us globally opened up new avenues of participation, or are these reinforcing the economic and political gap between the rich and the poor? Can the rise of religious fundamentalism be seen as a particular form of political participation in response to an experience of fragmentation that accompanies globalisation? The rise of global institutions led to a liberal institutionalist analysis of the consequences of global governance for democratisation. On the one hand, the various interventions focus on the need for conceptualising alternatives to state institutions of government in the context of the global political economy. On the other, the literature focuses on addressing the democratic deficit of the global institutions themselves. How can these institutions be made more accountable in a context where they seem to be usurping the power of the state (Woods, 2002)? The

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effectiveness of global institutions, especially the UN system and the Bretton Woods institutions, are evaluated and found wanting, leading to prescriptions of reform. New governance institutions are recommended to regulate actors and issues emerging as key in a globalised world, such as mechanisms of consultation, surveillance and co-ordination of macroeconomic policies, an ‘international financial architecture’ stabilised through global institutions, and the regulation of capital (transnational corporations) and labour (migration) (Nayyar and Court, 2002: vii–xi). A juxtaposition of this liberal institutionalist agenda for global governance and of the social democratic framework might allow us to develop some key themes of democratic governance, such as the link between political democracy and social justice, the relation between representative and participatory politics and the importance of global democratic space for mobilisation in challenging the hegemony of neoliberalism. Such a juxtaposition would also allow us to explore the concerns of feminist scholarship – about democratising the private as well as public spheres, the unbundling of citizenship in the context of neoliberal policy agendas and the struggles to defend the welfare state provisions and the mainstreaming of gender perspectives in policymaking – which are sidelined in the liberal institutionalist framework. Feminist studies of transitional and democratising states emphasise these points. While some of the studies have focused on the impact of liberalising economies and the marketisation of the state on women’s lives (Einhorn, 2000) others have considered how women can engage the state in a globalising context where the state is coming under multiple pressures and is repositioning itself in different ways in different contexts ( Jaquette and Wolchik, 1998; Blacklock and Macdonald, 2000; Eschle, 2000; Rai, 2000, 2002). Feminist engagements with global governance have built on the insights derived from the debates on the market and the state, as well as on processes of democratisation (Rai, 2004). Meyer and Prugl (1999) have defined three different feminist approaches to global governance. First, gender in global governance is seen as ‘involving institutional structures in which women have found or carved out niches for themselves and their interests as women’ and therefore ‘introduce into global governance women-centred ways of framing issues …’ (1999: 4–5; Stienstra, 2000; Liebowitz, 2002). Gender mainstreaming processes have seen feminist bureaucrats and gender policy advocates make homes in state and global governance structures (Miller and Razavi, 1998; Sawer, 2003; Staudt, 2003). The outcomes of these engagements from within have varied greatly depending on the level of bureaucratic hierarchy at which feminists are

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able to operate, the political culture of the site of governance, the dominant framework of analyses used by organisations to fashion policy, the resources that gender work has been able to attract – both financial and political capital – as well as the support that feminists within organisations have been able to depend upon from social movements engaged in advancing women’s strategic interests. Second, gender in global governance is approached through critical politics ‘exploring the purposive, goal-oriented … social-movement strategies to influence the United Nations’ and Bretton Woods institutions (Meyer and Prugl, 1999: 5; also see O’Brien et al., 2000). UN conferences have been catalysts for women’s organisations to mobilise in the interests of their constituents, as well as to develop conceptual tools to engage critically with the discourses of growth-led development emanating from Bretton Woods institutions. NGOs have mounted campaigns, such as Women’s Eyes on the Bank and the ‘Women Take on the World Trade Organisation’ campaign by Women’s Environment and Development Organisation (WEDO). In the context of the regional free trade agreements, such as the North American Free Trade Agreement, ‘Transnational NGO activism can actually be seen as contributing to or expanding the resources an national political movement has at its disposal’ (Liebowitz, 2002: 175), thus linking the various levels of organisations and sites of resistance. Feminist and women’s groups have engaged with institutions at all these levels through conventional and virtual forms of political engagement and developed insights from these engagements (Eisenstein, 1998; also Youngs, 2001). Finally, feminists have approached gender politics in the context of global governance as ‘contestations of rules and discursive practices in different issue areas’ (Meyer and Prugl, 1999: 5). They have done so not only by focusing on the consequences of the dominant global neoliberal economic policy frameworks espoused by the Bretton Woods institutions, but also by the constitutive gendered nature of the concepts used to formulate these policies (Bakker, 1994; Elson, 1995; Rai, 2003). Some have argued, for instance, that the intensification of globalisation through the extension of marketised economies and state institutions has been accompanied by changes in the governance of production and social reproduction. This is resulting in the transformation of ‘gender orders and regimes associated with intensified globalization’ and the institutionalisation of these transformations in gendered governance frameworks (Young, 2003: 109). Though women’s groups are engaging with institutions of power, this is not an uncontested strategy; many women’s NGOs find such engagements too problematic and politically flawed. Despite sceptical voices, globalisation of participation through social movements is regarded by

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many as the dynamic, creative response to the forces of economic convergence. And yet, can we see this global politics as co-optive of increasing populations forced to interact with the dominant discourses of reasonableness – capitalist growth and the predominant logic of markets, liberal democracy and individual human rights? Is the language of participation becoming a discourse of justification of the dominant social order? Fundamentally, participation in what? How do we translate into practical politics the feminist slogan ‘Think globally, act locally’? I discuss some of these issues in the next section.

Political participation: a new stabilising ethic? According to Clark (2002) the following reasons contributed to the NGO engagements with the Bank and international financial institutions more generally: the debate was brought within target institutions, such as the G7, regional bodies such as the European Commission, national parliaments; creeping conservatism of the North including the perceived failure of aid and loan regimes; building on some victories for other battles – success in one area led to greater confidence of successful advocacy and campaigns in another; comparative perspectives of Southern partners made Northern economic actors appear more reasonable; the debt crisis made economic justice an important issue to mobilise on. Therefore, as Miller and Razavi point out, ‘ “disengagement” – proposed by some feminists – is untenable as long as multilateral development institutions continue to exercise influence over the development policy process’ (1998: 139). The output of the political participation of women’s groups at different levels and in different forums has been measured by whether or not gender has been mainstreamed in policy and institutional structures. Mainstreaming gender in economic policy-making became one important element of social movement politics. Mainstreaming has been defined as: a strategy for making women’s as well as men’s concerns and experiences an integral dimension in the design, implementation, monitoring and evaluation of policies and programmes in all political, economic and societal spheres so that women and men benefit equally and inequality is not perpetuated. (ECOSOC, cited in Staudt, 2003) Assessing mainstreaming of gender agendas, Jahan has pointed out that the need is not simply for organisational change, but for a transformatory

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approach which would lead to a fundamental change in the mainstream itself (Jahan, 1995). If we are to assess the engagement of women’s NGOs with the World Bank, for example, we need to ascertain the range and limits of possibilities that the NGOs have been able to explore and influence. What we find is that despite several gender-sensitive initiatives, the Bank’s fundamental approach to economic growth and its endorsement of the neoliberal market-based economic framework has not shifted. The instrumentalist argument continues to pervade its policy-making – women’s education and health in particular are linked to the programmes on population control, for example. In a comparative study of six World Bank poverty assessments in four countries – Ghana, Zambia, Tanzania and Uganda – for example, Whitehead and Lockwood found that ‘[t]here is tendency to locate WID [Women in Development]/gender concerns in the soft areas – such as human resources – in an organization giving strong analytical and policy priority to economics’ (1999: 528). As a result of treating gender as discrete, and as a cultural issue related to women’s ‘social status’ in some cases and as ‘gender division of labour’ in others, there appears to be a somewhat ‘accidental’ diversity in the way in which these assessments address the issue of the gendered nature of poverty (ibid.: 528–30). I have argued elsewhere (Rai, 2002) that the NGOs and women’s movements working with institutions of power at any level are constrained by the dominant paradigms of power. Most of the initiatives taken by these institutions under pressure from women’s groups are ‘integrating’ rather than ‘agenda-setting’ (Jahan, 1995). The limitations of ‘cultural’ and ‘socio-economic’ structures that embed the local political institutions are significant constraints upon women activists. These constraints not only impose limits to change, but also raise the issue of co-option of women’s groups into the hierarchies of power and influence. Second, in each case the issue of differences among women is crucial. The differences that have emerged among women have been many – between NGOs of the North and those of the South, between activists and femocrats, between those who decide to engage with multilateral and state institutions and those who do not, between those who are funded by multilateral agencies and those less well funded or not funded at all. These divisions are also about who gets heard and who doesn’t, and therefore about the implicated nature of engagement which normalises critiques through mainstreaming them. Third, and linked to this, there has been a recognition that the terms of women’s engagements with multilateral bodies or state institutions do not generally favour women. The shifts in the paradigms within which various

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institutions of power function are minimal. Multilateral institutions as well as states show a minimal shift in their approach to economics and policy-making (DFID, 2005), the national machineries of various countries are embedded in and constrained by the political economy of their contexts (Rai, 2003; DAW, 2004), and at the local level, state institutions work with women’s groups within very narrow boundaries, reluctant to challenge the dominant social mores. Fourth, there are disagreements about the costs attached to the engagement of women’s movements with institutions of power – and that these are differentially borne by women in the North and South, and by women of different socioeconomic strata. While a strategy of disengagement with multilateral and national institutions of power might be untenable, it is important to have cognisance of the costs of such engagements in terms of the fragmentation of women’s movements, fracturing of dialogue between different NGOs, and groups within countries, and also between North and South. These costs are not inconsiderable and are unevenly distributed. For women in socially vulnerable positions due to either their class, religious, ethnic or caste position the cost can be personally very high. Finally, there is also the question of the legitimacy not only of the state or multilateral institutions but also of women’s NGOs speaking for women at international and national forums. Who can speak of the pain and confusion of activists who, on the ground, feel betrayed by the system that they thought was going to be their ally for change? The argument is thus not about whether to participate in and engage with institutions of power or not. The argument needs to be how far the process of participation and engagement is necessarily part of the outcomes. In short, it is about taking politics seriously in order to challenge the dominant paradigms but with cognisance of structural power, which can be a powerful obstacle to attaining gender justice. If feminist engagements with global governance institutions do not take into account the disciplinary power of the dominant social relations within which these institutions are embedded, these engagements could succumb to the danger of supporting ‘systems that create themselves’ (Riles, 2002: 173). In this sense, how do we measure effectiveness of engagement and participation at the state and the global levels?

Indicators of participatory effectiveness Participation has always been difficult to measure. Is political participation effective when we focus on the outcomes achieved through it, or is it the processes of participation that are empowering themselves

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whatever the outcome? As far as outcomes are concerned, one easy way to measure the effectiveness of political participation is assessing how that translates into women’s participation in representative bodies. If the number of women in parliaments and governance bodies continues to be minimal or to climb up very slowly, then we can assume that despite the rhetorical space occupied by feminists, the evidence points to the continued exclusion of women in society. From that perspective, we see that globally mainstreaming strategies and the political pressure brought about by women’s groups and movements have begun to address some issues of under-representation. Quota legislation in different parts of the world, for example, are increasing women’s memberships of legislatures and resulting in women becoming involved in the government as well as in the governance institutions at the global level (DAW, 2000; Dahlerup, 2005). There is some evidence from comparative feminist research that women representatives do attempt to address women’s basic needs, are approached by women’s groups to address their problems and even some evidence that, on the whole, women representatives are less corrupt and therefore bring to local governance some degree of credibility in the eyes of the people (Rai et al., 2005). A second would be an examination of the role of social movements as political participation: Have social movements been able to shift macroeconomic policy (outcome) which, for instance, might adversely affect the environment? Or have the movements been able to mobilise general interest in sustainability (process) and engender increased awareness of global environment that might sustain participatory politics of a different kind – recycling, organic consumption, fair trade initiatives, etc.? Are these the markers of a new citizenship? The engagement of women’s NGOs and activists with the World Bank raises some difficult questions for women’s NGOs. Lobbying the World Bank means dealing with economists who are not necessarily convinced of the agendas of the women’s NGOs and speak a language that is inaccessible to activist women, and therefore means making time for and expending energy on learning this language. Time and energy are at a premium for most women activists. The process of ‘consultation’ with Bank (or other major economic institutions) representatives is not without its power imbalances, and can therefore be alienating (Cohen, 2000). The gathering of information required to challenge the economic indicators that the Bank officials bring to bear on these discussions also requires resources and training that many Third World NGOs cannot provide. However, as Chiriboga (2002) has pointed out, the tendency of many southern NGOs to look to the World Bank to provide funding runs the risk of creating a clientelistic

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relationship, where funding possibility are achieved in return for favourable comments and risk losing international and Northern allies. The differential resourcing of NGOs and questions of access thus become important issues of difference among the NGOs: the evolution of the campaign [Women’s Eyes on the Bank] to date is illustrative of the power differences between women’s movements North and South, of the importance of geographical location, and also of delays in the spread of communication technologies to marginalised social movements. (O’Brien et al., 2000: 65) Also, the costs of engaging with multilateral organisations – especially those associated with the enforcing of structural adjustment policies – are differentially felt by women’s NGOs. Women in the South are often faced with abuse for engaging with ‘foreign’ organisations. There are also questions of accountability of the NGOs that make links with multilateral organisations and those that do not (see Rai, 2002). Attempts to leapfrog the nation-state by approaching multilateral organisations can also result in the undermining of democratic politics or struggles towards a democratic politics on the ground. None the less the increased levels of NGO activity, especially the forum of UN organised conferences on women, has led multilateral institutions to address the question of gender equity, and has prompted many nation-states to do the same. A third measure would focus on the processes of participation and not just the outcomes. This would allow us to examine issues of sustainability of political participation in institutions as well as the levels of vulnerability attached to such participation. The debate on deliberative democracy could be one useful framework within which to address some of these issues. Contemporary deliberative democracy framework involves three elements: process, outcome and context. Feminists have argued for a similar process/outcome-based politics when they have spoken of ‘rooting and shifting’ or ‘transversal politics’, of situated deliberation leading to democratic outcomes as particularly suited to the way women do (or are predisposed to do) politics (see Yuval-Davis, 1997; Cockburn, 1998). Deliberative theorists have defined deliberative democracy in the following way. As a process it includes: collective decisionmaking with the participation of all those who will be affected by the decision or their representatives; decision-making by means of arguments offered by and to participants who are committed to the values of ‘rationality and impartiality’ such that they are able to argue in terms

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of public rather than simply particular interests; conversing such that individuals speak and listen sequentially before making collective decisions, and from the perspective of participants, ensuring that some interests are not privileged above others, and no individual or group can dictate outcome of actions of others which means that outcomes are not known before the deliberations are conducted and completed (Knight and Johnson, 1997: 279–319; Elster, 1998). On this view, political equality becomes a central theme in the deliberative democratic argument. The deliberative democracy argument does focus on outcomes as well as processes, but these are different outcomes: the educative power of the process of deliberation; the community-generating power of the process of public deliberation; the fairness of the procedure in such a model; the epistemic or knowledge-building outcome of deliberation and the ‘congruence of the ideal of politics articulated by deliberative democracy with “who we are” ’ (Cooke, 2002: 53–87). Deliberative theorists point out that as outcome the concept includes the following presumptions: deliberations lead to change of preference resulting from communication; it leads to better decisions; it legitimises decisions, which improve the chances of these being carried out; it lessens the impact of bounded rationality – situated positions become open to scrutiny and possible shifts; it improves the qualities of the participants – speaking, listening and deliberating; and it may constrain misrepresentation and irrationality, in language if not in decisions – the ‘civilising force of hypocrisy’ – as a ‘second-best’ argument. Decisions and the quality of decisions are thus both part of the deliberative equation. Finally, as context, the deliberative setting promotes rationality and impartiality, and considers the question, who deliberates? It is here that arguments of justice are juxtaposed with those of general interests or the common good (Cohen, 2000). As is clear from the above discussion, the emphasis of deliberative democracy theorists has been on political equality. Knight and Johnson acknowledge that ‘a commitment to political equality involves potential trade-offs with other societal goals’ and concede that ‘some redistribution of power and relevant material resources as well as an acceptance of inequalities in the treatment of citizens by the state’ will have to be deemed acceptable (Knight and Johnson, 1997: 310). How does deliberation fare under such conditions of relative or absolute inequality? For women in public political institutions as they currently function this approach to equality poses multiple problems. First, there are problems of identity – whom do they represent? Their constituents are obviously both men and women, but do they also take upon themselves (or not) the added burden of ‘representing the interests of women’? Are they,

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therefore, feminists, ‘womanists’? Second, how do they reconcile their membership of a political party with, if not membership then sympathy with women’s movements? Without such sympathy would they be any different from men in political institutions? Is the question of the presence of women a sufficient question? Third, how are the differences of socio-economic positions reflected in the work of women representatives? Is it important that the women representatives are from particular class/caste groups? To paraphrase Anne Phillips, ‘which (in)equalities matter’? (1999). Finally, how does the general social position of women in society affect their participation in the political process? Is the deliberative process, rather than being more open to the participation of women in politics, more inhibiting for women as they seek their voice? Would a more secretive process of voting be better suited to their participation? These questions are relevant for us as we balance an increased engagement of women with governance structures on the one hand, and an expanded sense of political participation through international women’s movements and NGOs on the other. In this essay I have tried to question the assumption that political participation is empowering per se for women. I have reflected upon the complexity that a) differences among women, b) engagements with institutions of power and c) the experience of participation bring to the discussion on political participation. Political participation is, upon my reading, an important measure of the confidence that women share in the development of states and polities. It is however by no means measurable without taking into account the changing context of our global society.

References Afshar, H. and Dennis, C. (eds) (1991) Women and Adjustment Policies in the Third World, London: Macmillan. Agarwal, B. (1997) ‘Editorial: Re-sounding the Alert – Gender, Resources and Community Action’, World Development, 25 (9): 1373–80. Bakker, I. (ed.) (1994) The Strategic Silience: Gender and Economic Policy, London: Zed Books. Bakker, I. and Gill, S. (eds) (2003) Power, Production and Social Reproduction, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Basu, A. with McGrory, C. E. (eds) (1995) The Challenge of Local Feminisms: Women’s Movements in Global Perspective, Boulder: Westview Press. Beneria, L. (1999) ‘The Enduring Debate over Unpaid Labour’, International Labour Review, 138 (3): 287–309. Blacklock, C. and MacDonald, L. (2000) ‘Women and Citizenship in Mexico and Guatemala’, in S. Rai (ed.), International Perspectives on Gender and Democratisation, Basingstoke: Macmillan.

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Blumberg, R. L., Rakowski, C., Tinker, I. and Monteon, M. (eds) (1995) Engendering Wealth and Well-Being: Empowerment for Global Change, Boulder, San Francisco and Oxford: Westview Press. Bystydzienski, J. and Sekhon, J. (eds) (1999) Democratization and Women’s Grassroots Movements, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Chang, K. A. and Ling, L. H. M. (2000) ‘Globalization and its Intimate Other: Filipina Domestic Workers in Hong Kong’, in M. Marchand and A. S. Runyan (eds), Gender and Global Restructuring: Sighting, Sites and Resistances, London: Routledge. Chiriboga, M. (2002) ‘The International Finance Institutions and the Latin American NGOs: the quest for a Regional Agenda’, in J. A. Scholte with A. Schnabel (eds), Civil Society and Global Finance, London: Routledge. Clark, J. (2002) ‘Civil Society and Global Finance: Evolving Experience of the World Bank’, in J. A. Scholte with A. Schnabel (eds), Civil Society and Global Finance, London: Routledge. Cockburn, C. (1998) The Space Between Us, Negotiating Gender and National Identities in Conflict, London: Zed Books. Cohen, S. (2000) ‘Social Solidarity in the Delors Period: Barriers to Participation’, in C. Hoskyns and M. Newman (eds), Democratizing the European Union: Issues for the twenty-first century, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Cooke, M. (2002) ‘Five Arguments for Deliberative Democracy’, in M. Passerin d’Entreves (ed.), Democracy as Public Deliberation: New Perspectives, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Dahlerup, D. (2005) Quotas for Women Worldwide, London: Routledge. DAW (2000) Commission on the Status of Women Agreed Conclusions on the Critical Areas of the Beijing Platform for Action 1996–1999, New York: United Nations Publications. DAW (2004) The Role of National Mechanisms in Promoting Gender Equality and the Empowerment of Women: Achievements, Gaps and Challenges, Rome, 29 November– 2 December, 2004, Available at: http://www.un.org/womenwatch/daw/egm/ nationalm2004/ [accessed 11 May 2005]. DFID (2005) Partnerships for Poverty Reduction: Rethinking Conditionality, London: Department for International Development. Dietz, M. (1992) ‘Context is All: Feminism and Theories of Citizenship’, in C. Mouffe (ed.), Dimensions of Radical Democracy: Pluralism, Citizenship, Community, London: Verso. Einhorn, B. (2000) ‘Gender and Citizenship in the Context of Democratisation and Economic Reform in East Central Europe’, in S. Rai (ed.), International Perspectives on Gender and Democratisation, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Eisenstein, Z. (1998) Global Obscenities, Women of the World Unite, New York: New York University Press. Elson, D. (ed.) (1995) Male Bias in the Development Process, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Elson, D. (1999) ‘Labor Markets as Gendered Institutions: Equality, Efficiency and Empowerment Issues’, World Development, 23 (3): 611–27. Elson, D. (2004) ‘Engendering Government Budgets in the Context of Globalization(s)’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, Special Issue on Gender, Governance and Globalization edited by G. Waylen and S. M. Rai, 6 (4): 623–42.

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Elster, J. (ed.) (1998) Deliberative Democracy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Eschle, C. (2000) Global Democracy, Social Movements and Feminism, Boulder: Westview Press. Hale, A. (2004) ‘Networking as Women Workers in the Context of Globalized Production: Ensuring that the Movement for Corporate Social Responsibility Makes a Difference’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, Special Issue on Gender, Governance and Globalization, edited by G. Waylen and S. M. Rai, 6 (4): 669–72. Helie-Lucas, M. (1991) ‘Women in the Algerian Liberation Struggle’, in T. Wallace with C. March (eds), Changing Perceptions, Writings on Gender and Development, Oxford: Oxfam. Jackson, C. and Pearson, R. (eds) (1998) Feminist Visions of Development, London: Routledge. Jahan, R. (1995) The Elusive Agenda: Mainstreaming Women in Development, London: Zed Books. Jaquette, J. and Wolchik, S. L. (1998) Women and Democracy: Latin America and Central and Eastern Europe, London: Johns Hopkins University Press. Jayawardena, K. (1989) Feminism and Nationalism in the Third World, London: Zed Press. Jezeska, A. (2003) ‘Gender Awareness and the National Machineries in the Countries of Central and Eastern Europe’, in S. Rai (ed.), Mainstreaming Gender, Democratising the State? National Machineries for the Advancement of Women, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Kandiyoti, D. (1991) ‘Bargaining with Patriarchy’, Gender and Society, 2 (3): 274–90. Karam, A. (2000) ‘Democrats without Democracy: Challenges to Women in Politics in the Arab World’, in Shirin M. Rai (ed.), International Perspectives on Gender and Democratisation, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Knight, J. and Johnson, J. (1997) ‘What Sort of Political Equality Does Deliberative Democracy Require?’ in J. Bohman and W. Rehg (eds), Deliberative Democracy, Essays on Reason and Politics, Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Kofman, E. (2000) ‘Beyond a Reductionist Analysis of Female Migrants in Global European Cities: the Unskilled, Deskilled and Professional’, in M. Marchand and A. S. Runyan (eds), Gender and Global Restructuring: Sighting, Sites and Resistances, London: Routledge. Kothari, R. (1995) ‘Under Globalisation: Will Nation State Hold?’, Economic and Political Weekly, 1 July. Kymlicka, W. (ed.) (1995) The Rights of Minority Cultures, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Lasch, C. (1995) The Revolt of the Elites and the Betrayal of Democracy, New York: W. W. Norton. Liebowitz, D. (2002) ‘Gendering (Trans)National Advocacy: Tracking the Iollapalooza at “Home” ’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 4 (2): 173–96. Lister, R. (1997) Citizenship: Feminist Perspectives, Basingstoke: Macmillan. McBride Stetson, D. M. and Mazur, A. G. (1995) Comparative State Feminism, London, Sage. Meyer, M. K. and Prugl, E. (eds) (1999) ‘Gender Politics in Global Governance Gender Politics’, in Gender Politics Global Governance, Maryland: Rowman and Littlefield Publishers. Mies, M. and Shiva, V. (1993) Ecofeminism, London: Zed Books.

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Miller, C. and Razavi, S. (eds) (1998) Missionaries and Mandarins, Feminist Engagement with Development Institutions, London: ITDG Publishers. Moghissi, H. (1999) Feminism and Islamic Fundamentalism: The Limits of Postmodern Analysis, London: Zed Books. Molyneux, M. (1998) ‘Analysing Women’s Movements’, Development and Change, 29: 219–45. Mouffe, C. (1992) Dimensions of Radical Democracy, London: Verso. Narayan, U. (1997) ‘Towards a Feminist Vision of Citizenship: Rethinking the Implications of Dignity, Political Participation and Nationality’, in M. L. Shanley and U. Narayan (eds), Reconstructing Political Theory, Feminist Perspectives, Cambridge: Polity Press. Nayyar, D. and Court, J. (2002) Governing Globaliszation: Issues and Institutions, Helsinki: UNU/WIDER. O’Brien, R., Scholte, J. A., Goetz, A. M. and Williams, M. (2000) Contesting Globalisation, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Pateman, C. (1989) The Sexual Contract, Cambridge: Polity. Pellerin, H. (1998) ‘Global Restructuring and International Migration: Consequences for the Globalization of Politics’, in E. Kofman and G. Youngs (eds), Globalisation: Theory and Practice, London: Continuum. Peterson, V. S. (2003) A Critical Rewriting of Global Political Economy: Integrating Reproductive, Productive, and Virtual Economies, London: Routledge. Phillips, A. (1995) The Politics of Presence, The Political Representation of Gender, Ethnicity and Race, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Phillips, A. (1999) Which Equalities Matter? Cambridge: Polity Press. Rai, S. M. (1996) ‘Women and the State: Issues for Debate’, in S. Rai and G. Lievesley (eds), Women and the State: International Perspectives, London: Taylor and Francis. Rai, S. M. (ed.) (2000) International Perspectives on Gender and Democratisation, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Rai, S. (2002) Gender and the Political Economy of Development, Cambridge: Polity Press. Rai, S. M. (ed.) (2003) Mainstreaming Gender, Democratising the State? National Machineries for the Advancement of Women, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Rai, S. (2004) ‘Gendering global governance’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, Special Issue on Gender, Governance and Globalization edited by G. Waylen and S. M. Rai, 6 (4): 669–72. Rai, S. M., Bari, F., Mohanty, B. and Nazmunnessa, M. (2005) ‘South Asia: Gender Quotas and the Politics of Empowerment: A Comparative Study’, in D. Dahlerup (ed.), Quotas for Women Worldwide, London: Routledge. Riles, A. (2002) The Network Inside Out, Ann Arbor: Michigan University Press. Rubery, J. (ed.) (1988) Women and Recession, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul. Runyan, A. S. (1999) ‘Women in the Neoliberal “Frame” ’, in M. K. Meyer and E. Prugl (eds), Gender Politics in Global Governance, New York: Rowman and Littlefield. Sawer, M. (2003) ‘The Life and Times of Women’s Policy Machinery in Australia’, in S. M. Rai (ed.), Mainstreaming Gender, Democratising the State? National Machineries for the Advancement of Women, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Sen, G. and Grown, C. (1985) Development, Crises and Alternative Visions: Third World Women’s Perspectives, London: Earthscan.

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Shiva, V. (2000) ‘Poverty and globalisation’, Reith Lectures, Available at: http://news.bbc.co.uk/hi/english/static/events/reith_2000/lecture5.stm [accessed 11 May 2005]. Stacey, J. (1983) Socialism and Patriarchy in Communist China, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Staudt, K. (2003) ‘Gender Mainstreaming: Conceptual Links to Institutional Machineries’, in S. M. Rai (ed.), Mainstreaming Gender, Democratising the State? National Machineries for the Advancement of Women, Manchester: Manchester University Press. Staudt, K. (2004) ‘Gender, Governance and Gloablization at Borders: Femicide at the US–Mexico border’, Unpublished paper presented at the CSGR Workshop on Gender, Governance and Globalization, University of Warwick, 17–18 September. Stienstra, D. (2000) ‘Making Global Connections among Women, 1970–1999’, in R. Cohen and S. M. Rai (eds), Global Social Movements, London: Routledge. Tambiah, Y. (ed.) (2002) Women and Governance in South Asia: Re-Imagining the State, Colombo: International Centre for Ethnic Studies. Waylen, G. and Rai, S. M. (eds) (2004) ‘Special Issue on Gender, Governance and Globalization’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 6(4). Werbner, P. and Yuval-Davis, N. (1999) ‘Women and the New Discourse of Citizenship’, in N. Yuval-Davis and P. Werbner (eds), Women, Citizenship and Difference, London: Zed Books. Whitehead, A. and Lockwood, M. (1999) ‘Gendering Poverty: A Review of Six World Bank African Poverty Assessments’, Development and Change, 30: 525–55. Woods, N. (2002) ‘Global Governance and the Role of Institutions’, in D. Held and A. McGrew (eds), Governing Globalization: Power, Authority and Global Governance, Cambridge: Polity Press. Young, I. M. (1990) Justice and the Politics of Difference, Princeton: Princeton University Press. Young, B. (2003) ‘Financial Crises and Social Reproduction: Asia, Argentina and Brazil’, in I. Bakker and S. Gill (eds), Power, Production and Social Reproduction, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Youngs, G. (2001) ‘Feminizing Cyberspace: Rethinking Technoagency’, in J. L. Parpart, S. M. Rai and K. Staudt (eds), Rethinking Empowerment, Gender and Development in a Local/Global World, London: Routledge. Yuval-Davis, N. (1997) Gender & Nation, London and New York: Sage. Zulu, L. (2000) ‘Institutionalising Changes: South African Women’s Participation in the Transition to Democracy’, in S. M. Rai (ed.), International Perspectives on Gender and Democratisation, Basingstoke: Macmillan.

2 European Citizenship: A Political Opportunity for Women? Ute Gerhard

Looking at the European integration process from a gender perspective, two questions arise: What does Europe mean for women? And, what can women expect from the European unification process? In other words, what opportunities does the European Union offer women to influence its policies and to participate in its bodies? Those who get involved in this topic will be surprised by how much European reality already is established – beyond the Euro and unnoticed in everyday life. This is especially true for Europe as a legal community. Therefore, experts are already talking about an ‘integration through law’ and an ‘integration through citizenship practice’ (Wiener, 1999). This chapter focuses on both of these aspects and starts with a short introduction to the terminology of citizenship, particularly with respect to its meaning in different political and historical contexts. Against the background of the diversity and particularism of European legal history the current debates are both fascinating and demanding. Perhaps we might learn from this history how to deal with these differences. I then give a short historical insight into the gender of citizenship rights – the women’s case. I focus on Europe as a community of law with respect to women’s gains and losses, in order, finally, to discuss the question of whether European citizenship might be an option for women. Here the question is whether and how far the Draft Treaty establishing a Constitution for Europe considers women’s rights. This aspect informs any discussion of the European integration process as a political opportunity for the empowerment of women.

The meaning of citizenship: terminology Citizenship denotes a particular relationship between the individual and the state. But the term has and has had different meanings in various 37

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historical periods and languages. The varied vocabulary shows that, at present, it is not possible to define citizenship as a universal and abstract category. Instead, in the broad theoretical discourse on citizenship we have learned to distinguish not only meanings but also different dimensions of citizenship: Whereas in Anglo-American history the term citizenship implies both status with participatory rights and membership in the sense of belonging, in the Central European tradition we can discern a difference between the legal status of an inhabitant/denizen of a community, city or state in the simple sense of being situated or ‘belonging to’ (Staatsangehöriger), and inhabitants/citizens, who are recognised as full members of a city or state and participate in its authority or sovereignty (Staatsbürger). Only the latter would be a citizen in political terminology, as defined by Immanuel Kant, whose legal theory influenced political theory for more than a century: ‘Only the one who is entitled to vote and to take part in legislation is called a citizen (citoyen, i.e. citizen of the state, not only of the city/ bourgeois)’ (Kant, 1996: 458). In the same paragraph we find the often cited statement concerning women: ‘Among those who have difficulties being active citizens are, besides journeymen, servants, minors, all females, everybody … who is compelled to earn his/her living at the disposal of others’ (ibid.). The distinction between the Stadtbürger (inhabitant of a city or bourgeois) and Staatsbürger (citoyen) governed European jurisprudence throughout the nineteenth century. It distinguished between the citizen/ bourgeois as a private individual, entitled to civil (that is, private) rights on the one hand, and the ‘citoyen’ entitled to political rights to take part in government and sovereignty on the other. This distinction also mirrored the separation of the public and private spheres as well as the systematic differentiation between public and private legal rights. Another distinction is made between citizenship-as-legal-status, in the sense of full membership in a particular political community, and citizenship-as-desirable-activity with a greater emphasis on responsibilities and virtues (Kymlicka and Norman, 1994: 353). This is also the distinction between citizenship as rights, with individual entitlements and autonomy of the subject as core element of the liberal tradition on the one hand, and attachment to a particular community with certain obligations on the other: the communitarian approach. Others underscore citizenship as a political obligation and discern three components as offering distinct models of the citizen, namely citizenship as rights, belonging and participation, identified as characteristics of the liberal, the communitarian and the civic republican model. The latter is marked not only by the capacity and right to participate as full and equal members

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within the economy and polity, but also by obligations linked to taxation, military conscription and the duty and ability to perform paid work and to contribute to national social insurance schemes (Bellamy, 2004: 7). Beside the fact that these ideal types never occur in reality in a pure form, it is apparent that all these conceptions are modelled on predominantly male criteria. Given the sexual division of labour, the ideal citizen of classical republicanism belonged to an exclusive minority largely freed from the necessity of labour and unencumbered by demands of everyday life (see Lister, 1997: 32). Correspondingly, the freedom to earn one’s own living, not ‘at the disposal of others’ (Kant’s definition) or to own and acquire property, the liberal approach, throughout the nineteenth century until the middle of the twentieth, was granted to male legal subjects or heads of household only, whereas women’s work inside the home, caring for others – hidden, but indispensable for the common good and welfare – did not count, or did not entitle women to act as citizens. In her critical synthesis of the different approaches, Ruth Lister offers an illuminating ‘reconstruction’ of citizenship from a feminist perspective: Citizenship is thereby understood as both a status, carrying a set of rights including social and reproductive rights, and a practice, involving political participation broadly defined so as to include the kind of informal politics in which women are more likely to engage. The relationship between the two elements is a dynamic one which is fired by the notion of human agency. (Lister, 1997: 196) The modern conception of citizenship emerged with the social and political transformations of the American and French revolutions together with the Industrial Revolution. The freeing of individuals from subjection, from subjecthood to feudal authorities, to an emancipated subject of civil society was, according to different historical contexts, a complex process that had taken place through the rule of law, particularly the freedom of contract and the guarantee of property rights. It was tightly connected to the emergence and development of the nation-state, which means it is and was exclusive with regard to a culturally and legally constructed nationality; it was always tied to a particular territory and authority. Therefore, the question is: how can a European citizenship be envisaged that transcends national boundaries? European citizenship has been at issue ever since the Maastricht Treaty of 1992 used the legal term citizen of the Union and stated that a ‘citizen of the Union is, anyone who is a citizen of any of the member states’ (Art. 8). Although the Amsterdam

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Treaty of 1997 later specified that ‘Citizenship of the Union shall complement and not replace national citizenship’ (Art. 17), the nature of European citizenship remains contested, especially in the face of international migration and increasing numbers of refugees and asylum-seekers. Before going into this, I want briefly to discuss the gendered aspects, barriers to and steps of women’s citizenship in an historical perspective.

Gendered citizenship: an historical approach The systematic exclusion of women from the public sphere and their inclusion in the private sphere was neither coincidental nor merely a remnant or leftover from the past, but constitutive of the way civil society functioned. The public/private division as a main structure of a liberal civil society maintained inequality for women in and because of the family as an inherent contradiction. Beside ‘private’ law (otherwise known as civil law) exclusion from citizenship was organised by a broad range of political measures that formed part of public law. Corresponding to the double foundation of civil society and its hidden base, the family, reasons given for women’s subordination derived from the subordination of women, legitimised by private law, especially by family law, on the one hand, and on the other, the exclusion from citizenship organised by a broad range of political measures which were part of public law.1 Refusing to grant women citizenship status, and thus denying them all public and political rights, was, from a legal perspective, closely tied to the ‘special role’ women played in the family, according to civil society theorists. ‘Women are the representatives of love, just as men are representatives of law in a general sense’ (Conversations-Lexikon, 1817–1819, 2: 789). This condensed gender assignment hit the nail precisely on the head with respect to civil society. Carol Pateman has elaborated the systematic meaning and relevance of the marital contract in political philosophy, regulated by a particular contract, the ‘sexual contract’ (Pateman, 1988; 1989). Although I do not agree with all her conclusions, because she posits a ‘sexually differentiated citizenship’, it is still worthwhile re-reading the core reflections of civil society’s key thinkers to understand what love has to do with limitations on women’s rights (see also Gerhard, 1978; 2001: 22ff., 154). Whereas classical natural law scholars were able to leave matrimonial law to custom, the pressure for legitimacy grew towards the end of the eighteenth century. This becomes apparent following the reflections of Johann Gottlieb Fichte’s Grundlage des Naturrechts nach Prinzipien der Wissenschaftslehre, written in 1796. Fichte is mentioned here because his

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‘Deductions from Natural Law’ are paradigmatic of the liberal way of legitimising the gendered order of civil society. Moreover, his argumentation had – like Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s philosophy of gender (Rousseau, 1911 [first published 1762]) – a lasting impact on continental legal theory and the practice of family law. Fichte justified the ‘subjection’ of woman and the husband’s ‘right of compulsion over her’ according to Rousseau’s gender model (Fichte, 1970: 441). Regarding the civil and legal status of women he concluded: ‘since only a self-determined, free subject can realize the concept of right, that is, can restrict its freedom through the possibility of another’s freedom’ (ibid.: 76–8), ‘[woman’s] continuous necessary wish … to be so subjected’ excludes her from all individual rights. ‘Her husband is, therefore, the administrator of all her rights in consequence of her own necessary will’ (ibid.: 441). The legal framework anchoring this gender-based inequality was the marriage contract, which in a liberal society was more contradictory than ever. For this point on marriage was conceptualised not only as a contract, which ideally demanded the ‘free will’ of the woman, but also as a natural and moral institution, which meant it existed irrespective of the will of the partners and could not be dissolved. Significant, though, was the new, modern motivation for marriage. Bartering and economic calculation were replaced by love, perceived as mutual yet unequal. However, Fichte’s acknowledgement of this thoroughly ‘modern’ emotion by no means signified greater self-esteem, self-realisation and emancipation for women. Rather, it implied consent to subservience and subordination to the will of the man. This was very different from the gender philosophy of early Romanticism, which developed at the same time. For writers like Friedrich Schlegel and Friedrich Schleiermacher, the experience of love, both sensual and intellectual, created the prerequisite for woman to escape social convention and follow her destiny as a human being (Nowak, 1986: 284). Both Rousseau and Fichte derived the bourgeois-patriarchal argument for the legitimacy of female subordination from a typology of the sexual act. In Rousseau’s pedagogical novel Emile (Rousseau, 1911) we read in chapter 5 under the heading ‘Sophy, or Woman’: In the union of the sexes each alike contributes to the common end, but in different ways. From this diversity springs the first difference which may be observed between man and woman in their moral relations. The man should be strong and active; the woman should be weak and passive; the one must have both the power and the will; it is enough that the other should offer little resistance. When this

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principle is admitted, it follows that woman is specially made for man’s delight. (ibid.: 322) Interestingly enough, this connection between a specific sexual behaviour, described as ‘natural’, and the social order governing men and women – and thus the connection between love and state theory – was going to play a central role in political theory. Although such polarising characterisations – male/female, active/passive – represent a near-unbroken pattern of thought in western philosophy, it was new to take the gender roles thus defined to such extremes, assigning women to the sphere of love and morality, as opposed to law. Fichte and Rousseau have since been criticised and analysed thoroughly from a feminist perspective. The exclusion of women from citizenship was not only organised by family and marriage law as the hidden base of civil society, regulated by a particular contract, the ‘sexual contract’ (Pateman, 1988 and 1989; Gerhard, 1990/2001, 22ff., 154). An explicit barrier to women’s political participation in the public was a broad range of political measurements which were part of public law. It is noteworthy that the story of women’s exclusion from participation in power and sovereignty refers not only to their long-term exclusion from the franchise, but also to implicit and explicit limitations and gender-related discriminations which have accompanied the history of women’s movements for 200 years and provoked mobilisation and numerous initiatives and policies. For instance, through various bans on the formation of political associations by women or their simple participation in assemblies dealing with political issues (see e.g. the association laws in Germany, Austria, Hungary and Italy after the failed Revolution of 1848) women were explicitly excluded from participating in the public sphere and from political representation. These barriers were all the more grave as bourgeois society drew its democratic legitimacy from this new ‘type of social organisation’, from associations and voluntary organisations of civil society (see Nipperdey, 1972; Dann, 1976). It is therefore remarkable how bluntly lawyers and political theorists continued to justify this exclusion even at the end of the nineteenth century. This was not only about the preservation of the gender-related division of labour and sex roles, or simply about the consistently emphasised protection of the family, but also about the idea that ‘the written law, as well as customs have always been against the admission of women to political power and still are’ (Ostrogorskij, 1897: 40; see also Gerhard, 1997: 526). In a comparative study of the role of women

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in public law at the end of the nineteenth century titled History and Legislation in Civilized Nations, awarded a prize by the Parisian Faculty of Law, Ostrogorskij legitimises these traditional/patriarchal opinions by giving an informative survey of legal dogma and leading opinion, court cases and controversies across the ‘civilised world’ as influenced by the women’s movement and its activities. The author did not limit himself to legal postulates, but referred to common sense as expressed in innumerable essays, tracts and, not least, in encyclopaedias of the era. He found the same arguments everywhere: even if the term ‘woman citizen’ or ‘citoyenne’ was often used, for Ostrogorskij the concept offered nothing whatsoever on women’s participation in politics. Even the most advanced liberals who defended ‘recognition of women as citizens’ and urged elimination of tutelage found it unthinkable that women be granted the right to vote, their continued exclusion was seen as ‘the single limitation derived from the customary position of women in the family or from her subordination under the man’s decision-making power: Whoever is entitled to decide to go to war, he must be in a position to fight’ (Welcker, 1847, 5: 668–70). The traditional argument that women cannot bear arms appeared to present an insuperable obstacle whereas, in reality, the social contract and representation of the people’s will had long replaced military prowess, let alone the authorisation to duel as a precondition for voting rights. The concept of ‘citizenship’ as agency, however, allows us to reconsider the different spheres where participation and cooperation occur within civic society. Women – not least because they had no other choice – used less formal relationships, means of social service and their involvement in social reform for civil rights activism and thus transcended the narrow limits of the private sphere to enter public life. Their ‘practical social work itself actually provided a back-door through which women slipped into public life’ (Klein, 1971: 17). By overcoming obstacles, women’s movements in different nations and phases have frequently demonstrated their acumen in political action by means of various arguments, strategies and social practices. Initially, and for the most part, they made claims for the equality of all humans, yet also emphasised differences – the different way of living and different experiences of women. Women’s rights activists at the turn of the twentieth century, for example, legitimised their programme as ‘organised motherhood’, which ‘sends women not only to day care centres, kindergartens and schools but also to parliaments’ (Zahn-Harnack, 1928: 77; cf. also Sarvasy, 1994: 306f.). This was a strong point in the face of patriarchal means of domination all over the world. At other

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times criticism was based on the inadequacies of policies that lacked solidarity and consideration of care for others, which is why feminists even today argue for a re-conceptualised notion of ‘democracy as practice of care’ (Tronto, 2000: 25f.). Thus the eventual success story of these movements in the twentieth century must be seen as a very dynamic and open-ended process, which permanently extended and changed the space of the political sphere. The aim of the claim for self-determination and political participation does not and did not ever mean becoming similar to men or ‘the same as men’; rather it meant making freedom a possibility for different human beings and making relevant experiences that had been uttered as experiences of injustice. Meanwhile it is emphasised again and again that the theoretical as well as the practical process of ‘re-gendering citizenship’ is all about the transcendence of false dichotomies: ‘beyond equality versus difference’ and ‘beyond an ethic of justice versus an ethic of care’ (Lister 1997: 91f.).

Women’s rights within the legal framework of the European Union The European Community (the European Union (EU) since 1992) has, since its foundation nearly 50 years ago, evolved into a community of law that is guaranteed by various institutions. Even though its codes of law are very complex and frequently not very transparent, they increasingly determine the everyday life of all EU citizens. Experts even agree in the assertion that the European Community has been a particularly active contributor to legal advances made to improve the situation of women in Europe (an exception can be found in the Scandinavian countries) (Meehan, 1993; Hoskyns, 1996; Hubert, 2001: 145). The history of European gender-related policies begins with Art. 119 of the founding Treaty of the European Economic Community (EEC) of 1957, which explicitly inscribed the principle of ‘equal pay for equal work’. But in the next twenty years the regulation was rarely observed. Article 119 prompted public attention only when Belgium female workers in the Herstal equal pay strike of 1966 referred to it to add force to their demands for better wages, and two years later when the Belgian stewardess Gabrielle Defrenne sued the airline SABENA for equal treatment (Hörburger, 1991; Hoskyns, 1996: 40f.). In particular, the judgment of the European Court of Justice (ECJ) in the second Defrenne case in 1976 had a far-reaching impact, since the Court ruled that Art. 119 is directly applicable in each member state and that non-application is a violation of community law (ECJ Case 43/75 Defrenne II, 8 April 1975), thus

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enabling every man and woman to refer to this Community law in the courts of their own country. At that time, in which the second wave of feminism, together with the first World Conference on Women 1975 in Mexico, was changing awareness of sex discrimination and when the first ‘enlargement’, with three new member states (UK, Ireland and Denmark) was taking place in 1973, women’s and gender issues were pushed onto the political agenda. At the same time, the groundwork was laid to carry on gender-related policies on a European level. In 1976 the Directive on the ‘application of the principle of equal pay for men and women’ came into force, which, among other things, defined that this principle should apply not only to equal work but also to work of equal value (EEC, 1975). During the 1970s and 1980s the European Commission took a number of initiatives to advance the equal treatment of men and women at work, which led to the introduction of further Directives, for example the Directive regarding ‘access to employment, vocational training and promotion, and working conditions’ (EEC, 1976) or the Directives on the equal treatment in statutory or occupational social security systems (EEC, 1979; 1986a; 1986b). For the first time, these Directives contained an explicit interdiction of indirect discrimination, while the ECJ proceeded to a wider interpretation of Art. 119 and punished indirect discrimination in these cases as well. In these and other cases the ECJ played a crucial role in enforcing the Directives on the equal treatment of men and women. On the one hand, the ECJ has increasingly guaranteed the right to take action in the courts and established far-reaching standards for the interpretation and application of the principle of equal treatment. On the other, it has the task of exerting control jointly with the European Commission: other than recommendations, Directives have a binding character and have to be incorporated into domestic law within a certain period of time. In the past, again and again, the Commission has had to take action or at least had to threaten such a step because member states have missed deadlines for adjusting domestic law or because they have implemented insufficient legislation. In spite of this success story feminist criticism refers consistently to the fact that all achievements remain focused on paid work and thus follow the logic of the common market. As far as the reconciliation of family and professional life is concerned, progress is much slower. Caring needs and responsibilities still seem to be private issues and are ignored as ‘non-market appendage[s] of a labour-market participant’ (Lewis and Ostner, 1994: 178). Meanwhile, the Directives on ‘the protection of pregnant workers and workers who have recently given birth

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or are breastfeeding’ (EEC, 1992), on parental leave (EC, 1996) and parttime employment (EC, 1998) establish a minimum legal standard. Still, these Directives address the working population only, and thus also focus on paid work, which characterises the social policies of the EU and has prevented a more comprehensive consideration of care work. The Amsterdam Treaty of 2 October 1997 (which replaced the Maastricht Treaty, 1992) has meanwhile created a new legal base for European gender equality policies. The Treaty confirms the principle of equal pay and treatment at work (Arts. 137 and 141) and explicitly allows for ‘measures providing for specific advantages’ (that is, affirmative action) in order to support the ‘under-represented sex’ (Art. 141, Par. 4). Article 2, in combination with Art. 3 (2), moreover, provides that promoting gender equality is the binding task of all activities of the Community, and thus introduces the concept of gender mainstreaming to the EC Treaty. At the same time, the European employment strategy, launched at the Luxembourg summit in 1997 and laid down in annual employment guidelines, country-specific recommendations and national action plans, sets up the strengthening of equal opportunities as one of its four pillars, alongside the objectives of raising employability, adaptability and entrepreneurship. Thus the Amsterdam Treaty enlarged the European mandate on gender equality in a crucial manner, especially since it sought to guarantee the promotion of gender equality under Art. 2 of the Treaty in combination with Art. 3 (2) ‘in all activities referred to in this article [these are 21 activities ranging from a common trade policy to environment, education, health protection or technical development, agriculture, transport or development policies]’ (Hubert, 2001: 157). However, the effect of these new provisions on gender equality remains open-ended, since the Draft Treaty for a European Constitution, drawn up by a European Convention under the presidency of Valéry Giscard d’Estaing and presented to the European Council during the meeting at Thessaloniki in June 2003, is still contested and has yet to be ratified by all 25 member states.

European citizenship – The Draft European Constitution as a trial run The Draft European Constitution defines EU citizenship in the same way as the Treaty of Amsterdam and the draft therefore confirms the wording and its contents: ‘Every national [sic] of a Member State shall be a citizen of the Union.’ Listed are the rights to move and reside freely within the territory of the member states, the right to vote and stand as a candidate in elections to the European Parliament, diplomatic as well as

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consular protection and a right to petition the European Parliament (Art. I-8). But what does this mean for the implementation of citizenship rights in a much broader sense? As mentioned, EU citizenship does not replace national citizenship; explicitly it ‘shall be additional [to it]’. Therefore, Union citizenship does not entail citizenship in a European state in the sense of a people or sovereign, for to date the EU Constitution does not rely on the will of the people nor is the representation of citizens in the European bodies democratically resolved. The Draft tries to improve the democratic deficits, but the citizenship issue touches on fundamental questions concerning the institutional character of the European Union. So far, the Union is neither a state nor an ensemble of contract partners; it is a trans- or post-national body in its own right. Commentators therefore use the concept of post-national citizenship based on justice (Habermas, 1998), and on the Union as ‘a space for freedom, security and the rule of law’ (see Amsterdam Treaty, Art. 2 as well as the draft for a European constitution), rather than on nationality or statehood (Bellamy, 2004: 2). Some believe these circumstances open up new possibilities for extending citizenship to new groups of people and spheres of social and political life beyond the state in ways that will lead to a fairer world (Soysal, 1994). The Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union, which was agreed by the European Council in December 2000 and proclaimed as a first step towards a European Constitution (it is now included into the constitutional draft as Part II), places the EU’s citizenship provisions within the broader European context that promises to guarantee human rights as a basic individual right. Political scientists analysing the dynamics of European integration discover alongside a new community of law (‘integration through law’) a parallel process of integration by means of formal and informal practices of civic rights (integration through citizenship practice) (Wiener, 1999: 272). Part of this citizenship practice is the so-called acquis communautaire, a technical term that is also used in the text of the treaties. It signifies the active property of rules, but also court decisions, agreements and all forms of collaboration, which can be formal as well as informal ways of doing things, forming opinions and enacting practices. Emphasis is put especially on informal practices and discourses of civil rights, on social movements, particularly the women’s movement as well as NGOs and transnational policy networks as key features of civil society. Others mention the European Women’s Lobby and woman activists in official bodies, e.g. the Women’s Rights Committee of the European Parliament or the network on Women in Decision-Making, for it became apparent that the ‘democratic deficit’ of the EU was and is first of all a gender issue. ‘For both

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political and socioeconomic reasons, gender equality is linked to the future of the European Union’ (Hubert, 2001: 156). There is, therefore, no cause to idealise the situation. Also when we look at the representation of women in European institutions and decisionmaking positions, the gender disparity flies in the face of any equality rhetoric and gender mainstreaming policy. Although the proportion of elected women in the European Parliament is even higher than in most member states, except in the Scandinavian countries (2004: 30.3 per cent), women’s participation in committees, positions of power and decisive bodies is less (chair persons in political groups: 20 per cent in 2004, http://www.womenlobby.org/parl6th.htm). Again, the composition of the Convention, which has drawn up the draft European Constitution, proves that a critical mass is necessary to represent and defend the interests of an under-represented group, especially when gender issues are on the agenda. The Convention was a gentlemen’s club: only 17 out of a total of 107 members were women. The gender gap, to many observers, is one reason why the Draft Constitution in various respects offers less than the Amsterdam Treaty or remains vague and insufficient concerning women’s issues (Mateo, 2004). Single provisions in the Draft confirm the terms of the Amsterdam Treaty, for example Art. 141, the former famous Art. 119, now reads: ‘Equality between men and women must be ensured in all areas, including employment, work and pay’ (Art. II-23). However, active promotion of women is formulated in negative terms only, as an exceptional possibility, not as an inducement. Instead ‘positive measures’ should be prescribed in order to achieve substantive gender equality. Moreover, it is remarkable that in Art. I-2, sub-titled ‘Union’s values’, ‘equality’ is listed among other values, e.g. ‘dignity, liberty, the rule of law’, but not explicitly as ‘equality of men and women’. Gender equality, however, is mentioned in Art. I-3, sub-titled ‘Union’s objectives’, but here again equality is reduced to formulations of social exclusion and discrimination. This, once more, is a negative defence, not a demand for positive action and promotion. To hint at another critical point: in Art. II-52 under the heading ‘General provisions governing interpretation and application’, there is a typical gateway for traditional and systematic exclusion of women’s needs and interests. Following the wording that all fundamental rights ‘shall be interpreted in harmony with … traditions … common to Member States’, gender experts can imagine the consequences. The contradiction between the emancipation of women and adherence to traditional values has always been the main obstacle blocking the implementation of women’s rights. Finally, what is essential but nevertheless totally absent in this

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promising Draft are all those important concerns that the new feminist movement put on the political agenda as inalienable women’s rights, which are recognised and confirmed by UN Conventions and in the international as well as European human rights discourse: women’s reproductive rights and freedom and protection against violence. Feminist initiatives and civil rights activists were not listened to, nor did they receive answers to their questions in the public debate about the constitutional treaty. One critique was that the constitutional project ‘promotes the right of marriages and the right to found a family, but is silent on all forms of violence committed against women. At the same time, it doesn’t mention anything about the right to contraception, abortion or divorce’ (see http://www.penelopes.org). At present, since the process of ratifying the Draft Constitution was halted by the ‘No’ vote in the French and Dutch referendums and the British postponement not only are detailed questions concerning women’s rights still open, but the European integration process as a whole is in crisis. To assess this development is a political question. There might be different political traditions and experiences with constitutional agreements in Europe. In any event, from a gender perspective, any agreement and confirmation of individual rights instead of customs and traditional gender practices offer opportunities for women. Therefore, the question of whether this European integration process to date has ‘failed women’ (Klausen and Maier, 2001) in my opinion has to be denied. With regard to the integration already achieved through law and citizenship practice, women in Europe have more to win than to lose. Therefore, a new and broader debate about a European constitution has to be taken as an opportunity for intervening on multiple levels of European civil society and the political public. The EU as a democratic project remains a trial run for activities of civil society and also as a political empowerment structure for women. In Europe, the women’s movements bring in political and historic experiences, which are essential for building European citizenship rights. They have introduced new standards of justice to the European agenda. There is no doubt that new forms of intervention and new forms of coalition-building are necessary, which transcend national limits and practice active citizenship.

Note 1. The distinction between private and public law – not familiar to common law – stems from Roman law and governs continental jurisprudence. Private law refers to relations between individuals with which the state is not directly

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Ute Gerhard concerned. Its central plank, freedom of contract, rests on the supposition that both/all partners are free and equal to make the agreement, whereas public law regulates relationships between authorities, the government or officials and a subject in a hierarchical relationship. The private law doctrine of freedom of contract, however, was contradictory and contested not only with regard to employment relationships, but particular in family law where the husband in all civil rights legislation until well into twentieth century was considered to be the master and head of the household (see e.g. Steinmetz 2000 for elaboration).

References Bellamy, R. (2004) ‘Introduction: The Making of Modern Citizenship’, in E. Santoro (ed.), Lineages of Citizenship: Rights, Belonging and Participation in Eleven NationStates, Basingstoke and New York: Palgrave, pp. 1–21. Dann, O. (1976) ‘Die Anfänge politischer Vereinsbildung in Deutschland’, in U. Engelhardt et al. (eds), Soziale Bewegung und politische Verfassung. Beiträge zur Geschichte der Modernen Welt, Stuttgart: Klett, pp. 197–232. Fichte, J. G. (1970) The Science of Rights, New York: Harper & Row. Gerhard, U. (1978) Verhältnisse und Verhinderungen: Frauenarbeit, Familie und Rechte der Frauen im 19. Jahrhundert, Frankfurt/M: Suhrkamp. Gerhard, U. (1990) Gleichheit ohne Angleichung: Frauen im Recht, München: Beck. Gerhard, U. (1997) Frauen in der Geschichte des Rechts: Von der Frühen Neuzeit bis zur Gegenwart, München: Beck. Gerhard, U. (2001) Debating Women’s Equality. Toward a Feminist Theory of Law from a European Perspective, New Brunswick, New Jersey and London: Rutgers University Press. Habermas, J. (1998) Die postnationale Konstellation, Frankfurt/M: Suhrkamp. Hörburger, H. (1991) Europas Frauen fordern mehr. Die soziale Dimension des EG-Binnenmarktes am Beispiel der spezifischen Auswirkungen für Frauen, Marburg: SP. Hoskyns, C. (1996) Integrating Gender. Women, Law and Politics in the European Union, London and New York: Verso. Hubert, A. (2001) ‘From Equal Pay to Parity Democracy: The Rocky Side of Women’s Policy in the European Union’, in J. Klausen and C. S. Maier (eds), Has Liberalism Failed Women? Assuring Equal Representation in Europe and the United States, New York and Basingstoke: Palgrave, pp. 143–63. Kant, I. (1996) ‘Groundwork of the Metaphysics of Morals’ [1785], in I. Kant (ed.), Practical Philosophy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 37–108. Klausen, J. and Maier, C. S. (eds) (2001) Has Liberalism Failed Women? Assuring Equal Representation in Europe and the United States, New York and Basingstoke: Palgrave. Klein, V. (1971) The Feminine Character: History of an Ideology, London: Routledge. Kymlicka, W. and Norman, W. (1994) ‘Return of the Citizen: a Survey of Recent Work on Citizenship Theory’, Ethics, 104 (1): 352–81. Lewis, J. and Ostner, I. (1994) ‘Gender and the Evolution of European Social Policies’, in Zentrum für Sozialpolitik der Universität Bremen (Arbeitspapier 4). Lister, R. (1997) Citizenship – Feminist Perspectives, Basingstoke and London: Macmillan.

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Mateo D. M. (2004) ‘Eine Lücke im Konventsprozess? Die Partizipation und Repräsentation von Frauen in der Zukunftsdebatte’, in U. Liebert et al. (eds), Verfassungsexperiment. Europa auf dem Weg zur transnationalen Demokratie?, Münster: Lit Verlag, pp. 225–39. Meehan, E. (1993) Citizenship and European Community, London: Sage. Nipperdey, T. (1972) Verein als soziale Struktur in Deutschland im späten 18. und frühen 19. Jahrhundert: Geschichtswissenschaft und Vereinswesen im 19. Jahrhundert. Beiträge zur Geschichte historischer Forschung. Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, pp. 1–44. Nowak, K. (1986) Schleiermacher und die Frühromantik, Weimar: Böhlau. Ostrogorskij, M. J. (1897) Die Frau im öffentlichen Recht. Eine vergleichende Untersuchung der Geschichte und Gesetzgebung der civilisierten Länder, Leipzig: Wigand. Pateman, C. (1988) The Sexual Contract, Cambridge and Oxford: Stanford University Press. Pateman, C. (1989) The Disorder of Women – Democracy, Feminism and Political Theory, Cambridge: Polity Press. Rousseau, J. J. (1911) Émile, London: J. M. Dent and Sons. Sarvasy, W. (1994) ‘From Man and Philanthropic Service to Feminist Social Citizenship’, Social Politics: International Studies in Gender, State, and Society, 1: 249–55. Soysal, Y. N. (1994) The Limits of Citizenship: Migrants and Postnational Membership in Europe, Chicago: University of Chicago. Steinmetz, W. (ed.) (2000) Private Law and Social Inequality in the Industrial Age, Comparing Legal Cultures in Britain, France, Germany and the United States, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Tronto, J. (2000) ‘Demokratie als fürsorgliche Praxis’, Feministische Studien extra, 18: 25–42. Welcker, C. (1847) ‘Geschlechterverhältnisse’, in C. Rotteck and C. Welcker (eds), Das Staatslexikon. Encyclopadie der sämmtlichen Staatswissenschaften für alle Stände, Altona, 655ff. Wiener, A. (1999) ‘The Constructive Potential of Citizenship: Building European Union’, Policy and Politics, 27 (3): 271–93. Zahn-Harnack, A. V. (1928) Die Frauenbewegung. Geschichte, Probleme, Ziele, Berlin: Deutsche Buch-Gemeinschaft.

International statutes Council Directive 75/117/EEC of 10 February 1975 on the approximation of the laws of the Member States relating to the application of the principle of equal pay for men and women Official Journal L 045 19.02.75 p. 19, Incorporated by OJ L 001 03.01.94 p. 484. Council Directive 76/207/EEC of 9 February 1976 on the implementation of the principle of equal treatment for men and women as regards access to employment, vocational training and promotion, and working conditions Official Journal L 039 14.02.76 p. 40, Derogation in 194N, Incorporated by OJ L 001 03.01.94 p. 484. Council Directive 79/7/EEC of 19 December 1978 on the progressive implementation of the principle of equal treatment for men and women in matters of social security Official Journal L 006 10.01.79 p. 24, Incorporated by OJ L 001 03.01.94 p. 484.

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Council Directive 86/378/EEC of 24 July 1986 on the implementation of the principle of equal treatment for men and women in occupational social security schemes Official Journal L 225 12.08.86 p. 40, Incorporated by OJ L 001 03.01.94 p. 484, Amended by OJ L 046 17.02.97 p. 20. Council Directive 86/613/EEC of 11 December 1986 on the application of the principle of equal treatment between men and women engaged in an activity, including agriculture, in a self-employed capacity, and on the protection of self-employed women during pregnancy and motherhood Official Journal L 359 19.12.86 p. 56, Incorporated by OJ L 001 03.01.94 p. 484. Council Directive 92/85/EEC of 19 October 1992 on the introduction of measures to encourage improvements in the safety and health at work of pregnant workers and workers who have recently given birth or are breastfeeding (tenth individual Directive within the meaning of Article 16 (1) of Directive 89/391/EEC) Official Journal L 348 28.11.92 p. 1. Council Directive 96/34/EC of 3 June 1996 on the framework agreement on parental leave concluded by UNICE, CEEP and the ETUC Official Journal L 145, 19/06/1996 p. 0004–0009, CONSLEG – 96L0034 – 16/01/1998 – 11 p., Amended by OJ L 010 16.01.98 p. 24. Council Directive 97/81/EC of 15 December 1997 concerning the Framework Agreement on part-time work concluded by UNICE, CEEP and the ETUC – Annex: Framework agreement on part-time work Official Journal L 014, 20/01/1998 pp. 9–14.

Cases ECJ, Defrenne v. SABENA Case 43/75 Defrenne II, 8 April 1975.

3 Can Feminism Survive Capitalism? Challenges Feminist Discourses Face in Promoting Women’s Rights in Post-Soviet Europe Sirkku K. Hellsten

Introduction This chapter examines the role of feminism and women’s rights movements in today’s Europe. It pays particular attention to the role of Western feminist discourse in relation to the women’s movements and women’s rights protection in Eastern and Central Europe. The purpose is to set women’s rights advocacy in relation to the further integration of Europe, and the issues of social justice related to the expansion of the European Union (EU). The chapter takes a critical look at the fragmented stage of European feminist discourse per se by discussing feminist influence and women’s role in the practical and ideological unification and reconstruction of post-Soviet Europe. This theoretical analysis is reflected against the practical promotion of women’s participation through civil society activism and formal political positions. The main research question asked is whether theoretical feminist discourses and practical, political women’s rights promotion can go hand in hand in contemporary Europe in practice and help women in post-Soviet Eastern and Central Europe gain a stronger voice in national and trans-European integration policies.

Background During the last decades there has been active dialogue between the global North and South on women’s rights as well as on particular approaches to feminism and their normative political and social agenda. Non-Western, postcolonial third world feminism as well as the feminist 53

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discourse of women of colour within the United States have criticised Western feminism for its cultural hegemony. The main focus of critique has been the abstract liberal illusion of a ‘global sisterhood’ that can be enhanced by the traditionally Western universalistic thinking which focuses on procedural justice and individual rights. The third world and non-Western feminist discourses have pointed out that the Western tendency to focus on universal moral principles and the methodology of justice tends to erase important differences in power and access to resources not only between men and women, but among women themselves coming from distinct races, ethnicities, nationalities and historical settings. Thus, within contemporary feminist argumentation we can detect an internal fragmentation between individualist and communitarian traditions. Particularly women from non-Western, or in general from originally more collectivist, cultures are left to defend their traditions against liberal feminists who base their battle for women’s right on the individualist approach. At the same time, however, they want to try to improve women’s position within their own traditions. The third world feminist discourse has critically challenged the idea that there is any intrinsic solidarity of ‘universal sisterhood’. Instead, women can be just as discriminating, demeaning and biased when it comes to granting full equality to women in other cultures, different traditional value systems and different ways of thinking about the place of women in social context and in relation to set gender roles (see, for example, Mohanty, Russo and Torres, 1991; Narayan, 1997; Bulbeck, 1998; Narayan and Harding, 2000). This debate between Northern and Southern feminists has brought out discussion on identity, difference, race, social status, power relations and various colonial histories to ‘world feminism’ as well as to world politics. It has also influenced many global development policies and projects, particularly in the developing world. It has also helped the Western feminist discourse to reorient itself to recognise difference and marginalisation, not merely between sexes, but within the gender discourse and in action aimed at realising social and gender justice in a global context. It has also led to further empowerment of women in the South within their distinct cultural contexts and to understanding the value of local knowledge. Nevertheless, until very recently this debate on difference and power, internal to the feminist framework, has focused on the issues of race, ethnicity and traditional culture as the basis of differences between women, rather than on the relationship between women’s rights and transitional political culture. Thus, despite the rapid changes in social, political and cultural order in post-communist Eastern and Central Europe until recently, there has been very limited discussion on the relation between earlier socialist feminism,

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post-communist feminism, Western liberal feminism and post-feminist attitudes. Besides the theoretical debates on the role and structure of feminist discourse, feminist voices of the Eastern European women’s rights movements may listen less attentively to the Western feminists when the local reconstruction and transition policies in Eastern and Central Europe are decided, and vice versa. This appears particularly to be the case when Western feminists account for the violations of the post-Soviet women’s rights and advocate programmes that they see are needed in women’s rights promotion, while feminist movements in post-Soviet countries are trying to cope with the new socioeconomic development and women’s place in it. In a sense the post-communist feminists are set between a rock and a hard place: their views tend to be debated by both – the Western liberal feminists as well as the post-Soviet liberal market economics. The Network of European Women’s Rights (NEWR) project has shown that across Europe there are fractions in feminist reasoning, which disallow a cohesive promotion of women’s rights across the politically and economically integrating Europe. These fractions also prevent a deeper common understanding of democratic values and shared demands for local, regional and international commitment to the realisation of these values. Thus, in order to take women’s rights seriously, there is a need to overcome the internal fractions of the feminist movement in Europe and to bring the views on the best ways of promoting women’s rights closer together. Women’s rights can be advocated only when we use women’s ideological, ethnic, cultural and historical differences as strengths – rather than as dividing features – in focusing on the wider issues of social and economic justice.

Cinderella goes to the market, but does she know what to buy and for what price …? The uneasy relationship between Western and Eastern European feminist discourses starts with the universalising nature of Western feminism, which disregards the local contexts, generalises and scandalises information. Feminist theorists in Eastern and Central Europe note that much of the empirical work published in the West about the situation of women in the former Eastern Bloc has predominantly focused on the extremely deleterious effects of post-communist reforms on women. It has discussed some of the worst-case scenarios, focused on the most difficult situations and relied on statistics that can be used to make hasty generalisations about Eastern European women as a homogeneous group of victims of socialist politics and post-socialist transition (Phehar, 2004: 145–52).

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Women are presented as the losers in the recent transformations in postcommunist societies: they are shown to lose out socially and economically; not only are the failing economies cutting those social entitlements that women had during the communist era, but also the underlying cultural values and traditions that further enforce women’s suppression are now emerging in many newly independent or transitional countries. Western liberal feminists tend to point out that Eastern European transitions have brought in ‘male democracies’. With the collapse of the state socialism of the Soviet era, the position of women has deteriorated and Eastern and Central European democracies are suffering the ‘resurgence of patriarchal discourses’, which include both capitalist exploitation of women and women’s suppression by ethnic nationalism and religious conservatism (Einhorn, 1993; Platek 2004: 5–25; Rueschmayer, 1994: 226; Moghadan, 1995: 348). When set in the global context, Western liberal feminists appear to have created yet another category of the ‘victimised’ and ‘helpless’ women living in suppressive social, economic and political conditions that they cannot change. Much in the same way that women in the South were at one time categorised as passive victims of the forces of culture, economy and politics, women in post-Soviet societies are now seen as victims of the economic and social forces they can neither control nor fully understand. This view of liberal feminism hastily generalises women’s experiences, and ignores their role in different national and political histories. It is also based on biased knowledge, which in the Foucauldian sense categorises its objects according to Western norms, values and standards. Thus, knowledge on women in formerly socialist states always remains knowledge about the ‘Other’. This ‘Other’ is ‘the object of knowledge’ which is different from the subjects of knowledge that is ‘us’, the Western women/women in the West, who see themselves as the objective observers and thus, tend to think they ‘know better’ (Ghodsee, 2004; Phehar, 2004: 145–6).1 Feminists in various Eastern and Central European countries point out that it is also often ignored that the downfall of the communist system in the late 1980s did not bring merely negative effects to women’s rights, as the Western studies might have led us too easily to believe. There are now also more opportunities for women in the former Eastern Bloc to establish new groups and to mobilise others with similar policy preferences in order to create pressures on the new political establishments and take action on gender issues. In addition, post-Soviet women’s rights advocates point out that the role of women’s movements during the socialist era and after it should not be dismissed. In fact, today we

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can witness a prolonged period of development of women’s and feminist movements in the countries of the former Eastern Bloc. This era is marked by the fundamental transformation of those very societies during the socialist era when women participated in the class struggle and promotion of social equality. Thus, socialism as a political system was not hostile to women, but included gender equality in its ideal. Eva Fodor, for instance, argues that the state socialist emancipation project was indeed successful because it enabled more women to participate in various forms of workplace authority than its capitalist-corporatist, apparently democratic counterpart did and that women in socialist countries actually had a better chance of career advancement than women in many more conservative capitalist countries. She points out in her comparative study on women’s rights in Hungary and Austria that women in Austria could get ahead only if they assimilated the male-biased norms of the ‘ideal worker’ by eschewing reproductive responsibilities, while in Hungary the workplace and the promotion ladder were somewhat reconceived to enable (if in a segregated manner) the presence of women, not as ‘imperfect men’ but also as wives and mothers (Fodor, 2004). In other words, feminism was part of socialism in its equality discourse, unlike in capitalist societies in which feminism had to find its way to the prevalent socioeconomic system, which was, by its very nature, hostile to women. After the fall of socialism, feminism has re-emerged in various forms across transitional Europe and influenced women’s attitudes and promoted rights in all formerly socialist societies, but now in a more distinct form, looking for its place in new socio-economic situation (Ostrowaska, 2004; Rymanenko, 2004; Susnik, 2004).

(Re)-emerging capitalism and gender equality Despite the post-Soviet feminist critique of paternalism that is in-built in liberal feminism, women’s rights activists in the post-Soviet Europe admit that in many cases after the fall of socialist system women have actually lost both their social entitlements and their political power. Social entitlements are seen as relics of the former socialist egalitarianism. Women’s role in politics, on the other hand, is weakening with the fact that without these entitlements many women are forced to return to take care of the home and family. When social security is withdrawn, women’s responsibilities in the private sphere take over their participation in the public sphere. Simultaneously the tightening economy had led quickly to vast unemployment. More women than men are now unemployed, and fewer women get a good education. As a result there

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are fewer women in high political or private sector positions, while more women are reported as victims of domestic violence, trafficking, forced prostitution, etc. (see for instance Micu, 2004: 163). Finally, women’s rights advocates in the post-Soviet Europe have admitted that not all generalisations made by Western liberal feminist are hasty or prejudiced. It is possible to show that most, if not all, postSoviet societies have gone through similar (though not the same) experiences during the transitional era. All former socialist countries have suffered economic shocks that have reduced their capacity to collect revenue, and thus challenged the basis on which state support rests. All the new states have experienced some change regarding public enterprises and welfare systems and employment levels that went with them. All have also experienced political change with access to democratic ideas which, on the one hand, grant greater freedom to organise, but, on the other hand, have led to a resurgence of the earlier suppressed national, cultural and religious identities and traditions, which may contribute to women’s weakening position. Thus, while the impact of all the transformations has been different across the regions and thus the very term Eastern and/or Central European women cannot cover the experiences and situations of women in various countries, it might still be useful to try to draw some conclusions about women’s relations to the state and to families in the new Eastern European regimes in order to help women in the region share and compare experiences during and after the socialist system (Phehar, 2004: 146–50; Wallach Scott and Keates, 2004: 179). In this context we face the paradoxical relationship between the universalistic agenda of Western feminism and the particularistic concerns of local promotion of women’s rights. On the one hand, most of the current movements are open to Western experiences, but at the same time they search for their own conceptual prospects and development of authentic practices. Some post-socialist feminists note that the ‘term’ feminism has become a ‘dirty word’ in the post-Soviet context. People tend to equate it with radicalism rather than with democracy; it brings conflict rather than social harmony. Feminism is also often seen as foreign propaganda rather than the improvement of local gender equality and women’s political participation. Feminist ideologies are detested by women outside academic and activists circles, and widely rejected by common people who are just trying to get by and find their identity in the midst of the turbulent transition (Micu, 2004). Neither men nor women in transitional countries want ‘feminism’ as a new form of political radicalism. They do not welcome the ‘feminism’ of the West, but see

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it as yet another foreign ideological doctrine; nor do they encourage ‘indigenous feminism’. What people need are resources that help them to organise their lives and to work together for common goals. What women need are opportunities for equal participation and influence. All in all, what everybody wants is a working democracy that delivers its promises of equal participation.

Feminism, civil society and the politics of non-governmental organisations in transitional societies Democracy, however, has not fulfilled its promise in post-socialist practice. Thus, foreign assistance and intervention are needed in order to build proper political and economic institutions and efficient infrastructure. Various governmental and non-governmental donor organisations are engaged in helping the political and economic reconstruction of post-Soviet Europe. When it comes to gender equality it is often Western feminists and their non-governmental organisations (NGOs) that have been employed by the multilateral and bilateral aid communities to help women in former socialist countries survive the process of economic and political transformation. In many cases the Western feminist movements and their local counterparts have adopted liberal ideologies in order to get the necessary funds to improve women’s lives and to widen women’s participation. This often results in the hope that the further integration of Europe can provide even more protection for women’s rights in post-Soviet, transitional societies. Particularly the EU accession states (new members as well as those still in line for membership) have high expectations of improving women’s formal rights with membership in the EU. These positive expectations are often enforced by Western European feminists, who sometimes present themselves – as well as Europe as a whole – as the forerunner of women’s rights. While they may criticise the emerging international, neoliberal economic policies for their traditionally patriarchal nature, their own activities are highly dependent on these very neoliberal policies. Ironically, then, both feminist and capitalist agendas often go hand in hand with the Western aid and funding for local and international NGOs, which, for their part, are harnessing local women to build democracy with capitalism and a market economy in the name of women’s rights promotion. (Ghodsee, 2004; Discussion in the NEWR Workshop on Women’s Political Participation in Sofia, March 2004). The problems are evident: first, feminism in/from the West appears to be returning to its roots as ‘bourgeois’ liberal feminism, which tied the

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feminist agenda to the wider value framework of the Western liberal democracy and market economy. This connection, for its part, tends to ignore the complex historical legacies and class struggles of socialist feminism and does not necessary fit the cultural, historical and other local aspects of post-Soviet societies. It then easily ignores the class struggles of socialist feminism and focuses only on the problem of patriarchy as the evil force in capitalism (Ghodsee, 2004). Consequently, when class struggle is set aside and patriarchy is left to take the blame for the drastic reduction in living standards for women in post-communist societies alone, attention is easily distracted from the wider structural adjustment policies of the World Bank and the stabilisation programmes of the International Monetary Fund (IMF), which are primarily responsible for the removal of the safety nets that once supported women in both the former socialist countries and the European welfare states and social democracies. The fact that the support for women’s programmes and women’s NGOs in postSoviet Europe within transitional economies are themselves based on international neoliberal goals works on two levels. On the one hand, the private sector and civil society are taking over the earlier responsibilities of the state and public sector such as childcare, education and care of the elderly. On the other, it may simultaneously weaken grass-roots opposition to these same neoliberal policies and to the dismantling of social welfare by placing the blame for the drastic reduction in living standards for women on the shoulders of patriarchy only. This also creates fractions in the united front of men and women in fighting the root causes of poverty and injustice. NGO activity, then, is Janus-faced: while women’s increased political participation is ‘the pronounced goal’, many NGOs are quite evidently a part of an ‘anti-politics’ machine. They tend to create immediate technical fixes to various social problems and not to focus on the wider structural conditions in society that create those problems in the first place. They emphasise women’s problems and isolate women’s struggles from general social inequality. While funded by international aid agencies or bilateral programmes NGOs are encouraged to be politically neutral and to concentrate on issues that are independent of politics. Many women’s NGOs tend to emphasise individual projects which address specific goals, narrowly defined by the project sponsors, and avoid tackling larger issues of economic injustice and inequality in society (Ghodsee, 2004). Simultaneously, they may divert well-educated middle-class women away from participating in formal political decision-making by providing relatively secure personal income as well as guaranteed funding for concrete smaller-scale projects, the immediate results of which are evident, even

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though the long-term social impact might turn out to be less productive for the promotion of women’s rights because the various self-help and community programmes release the state from the responsibility of taking care of basic social services. Involvement in civil society and NGOs has long been women’s most common platform for political engagement and change. In former socialist countries, women’s NGOs flourished after the fall of communism and throughout the 1990s. In the Balkans, although perceived as non-feminist, women’s organisations provided the most efficient space for women’s empowerment (Blagojevic, 2003). Yet the process that fostered the creation of all these women’s organisations did not take place without problems. At the launch workshop of NEWR Barbara Einhorn referred to her theory of the ‘civil society “gap” and indeed “trap”’ (Einhorn, 2003). Einhorn argues that the civil society ‘trap’ relates to the way women’s NGOs and grass-roots activist groups are filling the vacuum that is created when the state withdraws from public service provision. Financial investments from international donors have contributed as much to the mushrooming of women’s organisations as to their shift in mandate or dissolution; while in post-communist and post-conflict countries, international aid has facilitated the involvement of many women in the ‘reconstruction’ effort. Having to adapt to the resources available meant that a considerable number of NGOs, as was the case in Latvia for example, have shifted women’s activism and efforts from (or back to) political groups to service providers. In Slovenia, only a few organisations today focus on political change by paying attention to problems of the new, market-based economic system and women’s status in it. In Hungary only a few women’s organisations focus on women’s political participation despite the fact that there is a great need to have more women in formal decision-making organs in order to influence the reconstruction of the economic and political machinery in the newly structured European context. Similarly, in Bulgaria women’s organisations tend to concentrate on the charity sector and to be weaker in the political sector (Filipova and Daskalova, 2003). One can recognise the phenomenon of the ‘NGOisation’ of feminism or, in other words, the ‘co-option of the feminist agenda by the interests of the state’ (Einhorn, 2003). All in all, due to the limited direct funds, the sustainability of women’s NGOs in post-Soviet Europe is at considerable risk, with many of them disappearing after the completion of a particular project. Consequently, while foreign aid through women’s civil society organisations might increase women’s grass-root participation, they simultaneously tend to keep women away from national and international

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politics. Instead, they let capitalism remain the masculine and patriarchal practice it was before women had any direct influence in politics and in markets. All in all, while various critical feminist discourses in Eastern and Central Europe are welcoming democratic ideals and change, they rightly see the need to challenge the Western tendency to universalise a set of capitalist values in one comprehensive package of liberalism. Therefore, there is a need to clarify the current relation between socialist feminism, post-socialist feminism and liberal feminism. Normatively, socialist and Marxists feminisms advocated more comprehensive changes in societal and economic power structures, but have lost their plausibility with the fall of the socialist political and economic system in practice. As elsewhere in a global economy, liberal policies are now offered as the only feasible option for post-Soviet societies. The liberal form of social Darwinism that has crept into politico-economic discourses by trying to prove that only the strongest will survive, has also taken over feminist discourse in Europe by setting different variations of feminism to compete rather than complement each other. Within the feminist discourse in Europe only the best one in practice will survive by working closely together (and in harmony) with the global neoliberal economics within the liberal ideological framework. The irony is, of course, that in most cases the neoliberal market policies that have been responsible for the very decline in general living standards both in transitional societies as well as in the Western European welfare states are now actually giving Western feminist their mandates to help Eastern European women (as well as women in the South) in the first place.

Conclusion The paradox of feminism in contemporary Europe is that the various feminist discourses in Eastern as well as in Western Europe are embedded in their particular historical, socioeconomic frameworks and sometimes appear incompatible to work together in current European political and economic practice. Particularly in transitional societies, this makes the situation for women’s rights advocacy confusing, to say the least. Postsocialist feminism faces a dilemma whether still to believe in the values of socialist solidarity, whether to tackle individualist liberal values from within the liberal feminist framework (and by engaging in related NGO projects), or whether to be post-Soviet, post-socialist and postmodern altogether by declaring all ‘the great stories dead’ and turning to a more anarchistic approach.

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Western feminism, for its part, needs to be clear with its normative agenda and avoid turning into a flagship for liberal democracy, which provides a Trojan horse to smuggle in individualist and capitalist values to replace the last remains of egalitarian ideologies, which – after all – originally provided the most powerful ideological critique of capitalist injustice and its negative impact on women’s rights. Women’s movements across Europe need to unite in the global struggle against poverty, inequality and injustice. This can be done only by preventing liberal democracies from giving full ‘political’ authority to the invisible hand of capitalist markets. More attention should have been paid to the shrinking responsibilities of states in the care of children and the elderly, equal access to education, health care, and equal opportunities to employment and political participation. Without serious attempts to integrate the different feminist discourses under the same normative and practical agenda there can be no united front in the promotion of women’s rights across integrating Europe. Instead, liberal feminism remains a foreign import, while socialist and Marxist feminism is losing its credibility and voice within the currently dominant neoliberal ideologies. This is despite the fact that feminist theorists and women’s rights activists in Eastern and Central Europe have repeatedly noted that socialist egalitarianism provided women with much better social and economic protection than the so-called individual rights of new economy and liberal politics have succeeded in doing in the long run. If we take seriously the experiences that women had in pre-transitional time from socialist and communist heritage, we could find new ways to shape the social policies across Europe in the future. Thus, the final suggestion of this chapter is that women’s rights advocates refocus on the wider structural issues such as the future directions of liberal democracy and its economic policies. While it might be essential to teach women how to survive capitalism, it is at least as important to unite – rather than assimilate – women’s movements across Europe, and the world as a whole, in order to have more influence in the local and global economic policies and move towards a direction in which equality and social justice, rather than gender issues alone, are the common goals.

Notes 1. Naturally there are divisions and different trends of feminist thought within Western women’s rights promotion (such as liberal feminism, radical feminism, Marxist feminism, postmodern feminism, etc.), which disagree with and

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Susnik, M. (2004) ‘Second-wave Feminist Groups in Slovenia’, in Post-Communist Countries in Women and Politics: Contemporary Women’s/Feminist Movements in Post-Communist Countries 10 Years After, Zagreb, Croatia: Zenska Infotelka. Wallach Scott, J. and Keates, D. (2004) Going Public: Feminism and the Shifting Boundaries of the Private Sphere, Champaign, IL: Illinois University Press. Watson, P. (2000) ‘Politics, Policy and Identity: EU Eastern Enlargement and East-West Differences’, Journal of European Public Policy, 7 (3) Special Issue: 369–84.

4 Citizenship, Civil Society and Gender Mainstreaming: Complexities of Political Transformation in Central and Eastern Europe Barbara Einhorn

Introduction The mission of building gender-inclusive democracies is far from being fulfilled. … We must ensure that women’s voices are a vital part of global politics. Simply put, if women are excluded from democracy, democracy fails. (Posadskaya-Vanderbeck, 2002: 7) This chapter is concerned with the opportunities for and constraints on the achievement of gender equitable political participation in Central and Eastern Europe.1 I propose to focus on three areas, all of which illustrate the complexity of the issues at stake, the varying pace and scope of change, and some of the factors influencing these changes. The three areas for discussion are: • the context of social, economic and political transformation across the region of former state socialist regimes in Central and Eastern Europe; • contestations about the most pertinent analytical framework for theorising the current situation; • debates concerning the optimal strategies for the achievement of gender equitable outcomes. 67

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Clearly, the transformation process which the countries of Central and Eastern Europe have been undergoing for the past fifteen or sixteen years has been enormous. Far from representing, as much of the literature would have us believe, a straightforward ‘transition’2 from one known economic and political system cast as both hegemonic and homogeneous (communism or state socialism, coded negatively and hence rejected) to another known system (capitalism and democracy, coded unquestioningly as a homogeneous and positive good), this process has been extremely complex, with outcomes on several fronts still unclear, especially in terms of the costs and benefits of change. For most of these countries, the transformation has involved several processes going on simultaneously: the transition from a centrally planned ‘command’ to a market economy with the prioritised modality of privatisation; the transformation of a state socialist to a liberal democratic political system; an enormous restructuring process which included the shift from an industrial to a post-industrial economy; and a move away from public social support and state welfare provision as a result of the IMF-imposed neoliberal market model.3 Several of these processes mark the policy outcome, namely the political abandonment of the socialist rhetoric of egalitarianism and social justice in favour of the liberal discourse of individual liberty and (economic) opportunity. The discourse of transformation has highlighted gains in civil and political rights, while the process itself has been, in material terms, almost entirely focused on economic restructuring: marketisation, interpreted as privatisation. Thus, as I shall argue in this chapter, European Union (EU) accession, while embodying hopes in relation to EU commitment to gender equality through gender mainstreaming, is in practice a process of economic alignment and integration. In this process, concerns not only for gender equality but also for citizenship and social justice are marginalised. Many of these processes have also been occurring in Western Europe, both over the same period and earlier (in the UK since the beginning of the Thatcher government in 1979), signalling the end of the post-Second World War welfare state and its assumptions about citizenship being based on social as well as economic and political rights. Nancy Fraser argues that today, ‘the Keynesian–Westphalian frame is losing its aura of self-evidence’ (Fraser, 2005: 2). For her, this loss of self-evidence denotes the demise of Western European social democratic welfare states as a result of neoliberal policies, and simultaneous challenges to the nation-state as the unquestioned address for citizenship claims, as a result of supranational institutions of governance such as the EU and the United Nations (UN), but also, more powerfully still, of the growing impact of economic globalisation.

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The fundamental nature of the transformation in Central and Eastern Europe has resulted in profound social as well as economic and political dislocations. The relative retreat of the state from welfare provision within the externally imposed neoliberal paradigm has exacerbated the impact of economic restructuring (Steinhilber, 2002). Some of the negative effects have been huge increases in poverty and a widening income gap (Daskalova, 2000: 339). Some authors would claim that one of the most definitive effects has been the re-emergence of class as a social determinant in the region (Gapova, 2002; Regulska, 2002). Economic losses are presented as more than matched by new opportunities, in terms of both entrepreneurship and the freedom (not always matched by the capability) to organise politically. Yet in several countries the increased space for individuation and the establishment of differentiated identities has encouraged discrimination, marginalisation and – in extreme cases – conflict based on ethnic or religious ‘otherness’. The most significant factor of the transformation process from the perspective of a commitment to social justice is its intrinsically gendered nature (Gal and Kligman, 2000a, 2000b; True, 2003b). Women have lost economic rights and social entitlements that were theirs in the past, and their newly won political rights seem up to now to remain largely paper rights. Not only is the gap between rich and poor widening; so too is the gender gap, across a wide spectrum: within the economy, in the polity, in media representations, in nationalist and religious discourses, in terms of reproductive and social rights, but also in terms of increases in the feminisation of poverty (Daskalova, 2000: 342), in ‘trafficking’ (True, 2003b: 94–8)4 and in domestic violence. The political, economic and social aspects of the transformation process were accompanied by a reconfiguration of gender dynamics. Indeed, understandings of what constituted ‘masculinity’ and ‘femininity’ shifted in a way that structured as well as reflected the transformation process (Duhacek, 1998).

The context The transformation process in Central and Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, in all its complexity and multi-layeredness, is occurring within the framework of two further supra-regional transformation processes, both of them exerting a direct impact on the shape and direction of change within the region. The first of these is globalisation, a process setting East European workers and industries into the formerly unknown global market. The impact on heavily feminised industries in the region such as textiles has been immediate, with the loss of heavily

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subsidised trade with the Soviet Union and competition with even cheaper female workers in East and Southeast Asia. The second, currently most significant, process is that of EU enlargement. Like the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War that that has come to signify, what is little recognised is that the process of EU enlargement and European economic integration has implications for both sides of the process, implying change in the West as well as in the East. Many of the problematic issues in terms of women’s rights and gender equality that I shall discuss in this chapter are of course issues that remain thorny and to varying degrees also largely unresolved in pre-2004 EU member states. The first round of enlargement, implemented in March 2004, integrated the Czech Republic, Estonia, Hungary, Latvia, Lithuania, Poland, Slovakia and Slovenia, but, due to a European Commission decision in October 2002, not Bulgaria and Romania as originally planned. There is currently, therefore, a very real danger that this process will create second- and third-class European citizenship for those countries left out in the cold, reinforcing already widening gaps between the ‘in’ group of countries in Central Europe and the Baltic states, and the countries of Eastern and South-eastern Europe (with the exception of Slovenia), not to mention Belarus, Russia, Ukraine and Central Asia. A second danger is that the EU’s exclusive focus on the economic sphere will simply elide many of the most crucial problems of political participation and social entitlements faced by women in the region. In a conference paper, speaking on behalf of the KARAT Coalition of women’s NGOs from the region, Regina Barendt stated: ‘If state intervention remains limited to the labour market, as was the case under socialism, the most immediate impact is to intensify the exploitation of women on the one hand, and fail to alter the traditional gendered division of labour on the other. We in the region have known this for 25 years, but it is only now slowly gaining recognition in the EU’ (Barendt, 2002). The dangers for gender equality inherent in the way that in the EU ‘from the beginning the social has been subsumed within the economic and only given a separate focus when this appeared functional or necessary to economic integration’ has been identified earlier by Catherine Hoskyns (Hoskyns, 1996: 207), but not necessarily adequately addressed within EU policy. Joanna Regulska maintained in 2002 that ‘the increasing privileging of economic over social and political ties has further threatened CEE countries’ hopes for joining the EU as equal partners’. She found that the evidence of negotiations around accession ‘reinforces the impression that there is a lack of EU commitment to carry gender discourse as a part of accession negotiations’. Furthermore, while the Polish government had

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felt obliged, admittedly only in May 2001, to introduce ‘required legislation regarding equal pay and equal treatment of men and women’, this was confined to measures in the sphere of the labour market, and ‘purely instrumental’ (Regulska, 2002). Jacqui True documents the Czech ‘government’s failure to properly implement’ the equal opportunities legislation it introduced as an amendment to the Labour Law in 1999 for the purposes of harmonisation with EU requirements (True, 2003b: 98–100). On this evidence, it would seem that neither national governments in the region nor the EU itself perceived gender as a key barometer of eligibility readiness for accession. The EU policy of gender mainstreaming – even in existing EU countries – hides a lack of conceptual clarity in terms of meaning, intentionality and purpose: is the goal, for example, equal treatment, equality of opportunity or equality of outcomes? Does it necessitate equal opportunity legislation or anti-discrimination legislation? Is there a problem in the fact that gender mainstreaming is a top-down strategy? Might a crucial political edge in terms of feminist goals of social transformation be lost through this strategy? ‘Gender mainstreaming should not replace politics’ (Verloo, 2002). Nor should it be used to mask issues of women’s rights, or withdraw funding from, or replace, measures of positive discrimination for women. In practice, gender mainstreaming strategies, especially within the EU context, are often formulated in terms of economic efficiency, hence they are effective strategies for integrating women into the labour market, rather than within a framework of political transformation towards the goal of gender equitable societies. Added to the lack of conceptual clarity is the fact that ‘almost all accession countries have commissions or departments on equal opportunities, but, with very few exceptions, they hardly understand the concept, not to mention the initiative they may take or the competence they have to carry out activities in this respect’ (IHF, 2000: 17). In Poland, the Equal Opportunities Officer appointed in November 2001 did not have an automatic right to attend cabinet meetings, nor to insist that her recommendations are translated into legislation or government policy. Initial attempts by the Parliamentary Women’s Lobby to introduce a draft Equal Opportunities Bill into the Polish Sejm, for example, met with laughter and ridicule. As of 2002, the only country to have an ombudsperson dealing with gender issues was Lithuania, which in June 2002 introduced amendments to its 1998 Equal Opportunities legislation allowing resort to ‘positive discrimination’ in order to ensure women’s rights (NWP/OSI, 2002: 14). There is a need, recognised in some existing EU member states, for example Germany, for state institutions to institute a dual strategy,

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combining gender mainstreaming policies with positive measures to enhance gender equality. Even where the formal mechanisms and legislation are in place, there are questions about the level of implementation. As in Western Europe, many of the countries in the region lack sufficient numbers of women in positions of power in legislatures and in trade unions who are committed to gender equality and might ensure that the legislation, once passed, becomes a reality. Again the Polish case is illustrative, suggesting that compliance or non-compliance with the gender norms of EU legislation was unlikely to impede, or delay, accession for those countries that joined in 2004 (Steinhilber, 2002). Moreover, there is a danger that EU enlargement might result in an equalisation downwards, whereby women in Central and Eastern Europe are forced to accept lower levels of female political participation, labour force participation, childcare provision, pay equity or reproductive rights than they were accustomed to. This was evident in some aspects of the German unification process.

Analytical frameworks in question I have argued above that an often overlooked outcome of the end of the Cold War and, more recently, of the EU enlargement process too, is that these processes involve change on both sides. The only aspect of this which the British media – and politicians – manipulate is the fear of vast hordes of East Europeans ‘taking our jobs’ or ‘sponging off the state’ in Britain. Evidence that the health system would collapse without immigrants, that farms and factories would have to close without the seasonal and short-term workers from Eastern Europe, is harder to get across. Similarly, the fact that most Polish people who come to Britain for work have no intention of settling here, thus paying into the UK social security system without ever staying long enough to benefit from it, is seemingly too complex a reality to be reflected in media portrayals or political and populist discourse. What is important is to recognise that there is mutual benefit to be gained from the movement of people resulting from EU enlargement. The mutual changes and two-way benefits of EU enlargement have repercussions for both issues to be discussed in this section. Both issues concern contestations around the appropriate analytical framework for dealing with the impact of political transformation in Central and Eastern Europe. The first question is whether the relevant frame for rights claims in the era of EU enlargement (and the wider context of

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globalisation) is the nation-state or supra-national institutions such as the EU. The second is whether feminist theory, especially that perceived as an import in Eastern Europe, has anything pertinent to offer in understanding the gendered ramifications of the transformation process itself. The jury is still out on whether the nation-state has been superseded by regional or international institutions in terms of its ability to confer citizenship rights or implement human rights. Nancy Fraser argues that in the post-social democratic era ‘it is no longer axiomatic that the modern territorial state is the appropriate unit for thinking about issues of justice, nor that the citizens of such states are the pertinent subjects’ (Fraser, 2005: 3). A special issue of the International Feminist Journal of Politics in 2004 is devoted to exploring issues of gender and governance in the era of globalisation (Waylen and Rai, 2004). In it, Shirin Rai argues persuasively that ‘comparative feminist scholarship provides key insights into the constitutive, gendered nature of the state in the global political economy and thus challenges the “declining state” thesis’. She documents the ‘decisive shift’ in the 1990s ‘from scepticism and caution towards the state to an engagement with and embrace of state institutions’ on the part of feminists. Of particular relevance to this volume is the centrality of feminist efforts to change state policy, in part through arguing for quotas for women in political institutions, as well as their engagement with the policies of gender mainstreaming (Rai, 2004: 584, 586). With reference to Eastern Europe, Joanna Regulska (2002: 11–12) observes that ‘neither the official “sameness” imposed by the communist political culture nor the “difference” engendered by differing degrees of democratisation liberates women as fully participating political actors’. She therefore poses the question: ‘Will the fact that women have not found significant opportunities in formal, domestic political structures make them more likely to search for alternative ways to act politically beyond the nation-state?’ The successful international lobbying activities of KARAT, a coalition of NGOs in Eastern Europe, might suggest an affirmative response. Yet I am not entirely convinced that transnational institutions are well enough established to supplant the nation-state’s role as addressee for citizenship claims, at least not yet. Whilst it is true that the existence of the European Court of Human Rights has enabled some individuals within the EU to take their own governments to court, this surely represents the exception. It also exemplifies the way that human rights discourse – and indeed liberal democratic discourse – focuses on the individual, rather than on social groups, whereas gender equality – despite multiple differences between women – implies the need to overcome structural disadvantage, not mere individual

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difficulty. Most women in Western Europe, whether they are exercised about the continuing gender pay gap, the glass ceiling, occupational segregation in all its forms, parental leave, domestic violence, lesbian rights, the rights of migrant women or female asylum seekers, possess neither the social nor the financial capital to access such supranational institutions. For the majority, then, the nation-state remains the only address to which they have access and are in a position to address their claims for citizenship rights, social entitlements and greater social justice. On the question of whether Western feminist theory has anything positive to offer in the analysis of the transformation process, it has first been necessary to acknowledge that women in Western Europe have much to learn from the experiences of women in Central and Eastern Europe, in other words our exchanges of ideas need to be genuinely twoway processes. The very fact of diametrically different past experiences of citizenship and political participation offers potential for throwing new light on old issues in analysing gender injustices. Where gains in women’s economic and political rights in Western Europe were hard won through struggle against a liberal democratic state which proclaimed individual freedoms, women in Central and Eastern Europe experienced a conception of ‘equality’ handed down from above by a paternalistic state, but within a context in which everyone lacked individual rights and there were no political and public spaces in which civil society associations could function. In neither case has gender-equitable citizenship status or even equal political participation been achieved. There is therefore a great need for the establishment – and/or expansion – of networks across the still existing ‘wall in our heads’, as Bärbel Bohley, a leading member of the opposition movement in pre-1989 East Germany, called it after the fall of the Berlin Wall. A precondition for the kind of sharing that empowers both sides is both the capacity and the willingness for mutual listening and learning. One inspiring example within the region of such networking and a ‘transversal politics’ in which women show willingness to listen, learn, and work together while respecting their different locations and not trying to erase their differences, was the cross-ethnic project coordinated by Cynthia Cockburn in Bosnia-Herzegovina (Cockburn, 2000; Cockburn et al., 2001).5 Since the transformation process began, feminists in Central and Eastern Europe have been at pains to stress differences, not only between countries within the region, but also in relation to what were perceived as hegemonic Western feminist theories or colonising Western feminists.6 As Susan Bassnett noted early in the transformation process, ‘the general

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assumption even among feminists seemed to follow lines ominously close to those of the colonial discoverer’ (Bassnett, 1992: 12).7 Dasa Duhacek ponders the difficulty of definition in constructing a theory relevant to the needs of women in the region. ‘How do we speak of feminism which is other than Western feminism, if not as a feminism which is the other to it, which would presuppose Western feminism as the parameter?’ (Duhacek, 1998: 129). Dasa Duhacek is one of several analysts who explain hostility to Western feminism as the result of the different significance attached to the private sphere and hence to the public/private divide in the region (Duhacek, 1998; Einhorn, 1993; Gapova, 2001). Commentators from the region see this as the main explanatory factor in East European women’s resistance to Western feminism, which they interpret as women striving for autonomy against men as opposed to the solidarity within the family whilst it was a ‘rump’ civil society space and hence a kind of substitute public sphere and site of resistance during the state socialist period (Drakulic, 1992; Duhacek, 1998; Havelkova, 1993: 69; 2000; Jalusic, 2002; Zhurzhenko, 2001a). Despite these differences, several scholars from the region are now modifying their stance, partly as a result of engagement – at international conferences and in cross-regional European networks – in the difficult but creative process of East–West feminist dialogue. Hana Havelkova writes: ‘I believe that East European women tend to over-emphasise the differences between Western theories and post-Communist realities … attempting to protect their own authentic experiences against the invading feminist theory’ (Havelkova, 2000: 120). Judit Acsady (1999: 407) analyses the media’s role in creating hostility to feminism as ‘Western ideology’ that is ‘alien to Hungarian tradition’. Denise Roman speaks of the ‘fallacious’ rejection of Western feminism by East European feminists. Her view is that Third Wave difference-based feminisms hold considerable potential for Central and Eastern Europe: The very Western definition of gender as ‘socially’, ‘historically’, and thus locally and contextually constructed (Scott, 1986), is indeed useful as an analytical-theoretical tool for surveying gender relations anywhere and anytime, … – even if the dynamic of patriarchy or women’s politics [in any one country, at a particular moment in history] is revealed to be specifically different, thus claiming particular normative propositions. Roman views concepts such as Mouffe’s ‘coalition politics’ or Yuval-Davis’s ‘transversal politics’ as offering analytical and potentially normative

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frameworks for the development of a ‘democratic, gendered future’ (Roman, 2001: 61, 62, 64).

Strategies for gender equality Regardless of their adherence to particular versions of feminist theory, feminists in both East and West, North and South debate the optimal strategies for the achievement of more gender equitable participation. There is even debate about whether increased female political participation is indeed a sufficient, or even a necessary condition for that end. Two particular strategies that are currently on the international agenda but whose merits are contested, are: gender mainstreaming as a policy designed to achieve gender equality, and quotas as a means to increase the level of women’s political participation. One could argue that these strategies are symptomatic of the old debates concerning the merits of top-down versus bottom-up approaches.8 Since the Fourth UN World Conference on Women in Beijing in 1995, international agencies and supranational bodies such as the EU have favoured top-down gender mainstreaming strategies. In many regions of the world, and also in the context of EU enlargement, this strategy is hampered by the lack of women at leadership level, and the fact that women’s rights or gender equality as goals are, with few exceptions, not included on political party platforms. During the run-up to EU accession, the Polish Centre for Women’s Rights reported as late as 2000 that Poland has done nothing to adjust its legislation to EU standards in the field of equal status of women and men and that issue is probably the last item on the government priorities list. (Women’s Rights Centre, 2000: 14; cited in Regulska, 2002) Suspicion of top-down statist approaches that was prevalent in the early years of transformation has persisted in some countries and goes some way to explaining the enhanced status of NGO activity in the region as opposed to mainstream political involvement. This suspicion was a perfectly understandable reaction to the experience of an all-powerful and invasive state during the socialist period (Szalai et al., 1990). Nor is antistatism peculiar to East European feminisms (Mansbridge, 2003). When Western or Southern feminists ponder whether or not to ‘give up on the state’ they are (with the exception perhaps of Latin American countries re-establishing democratic institutions after the end of military dictatorships) not speaking from a position of similar experiences of the state.

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The resistance to state-led solutions has – until recently – expressed itself, among other ways, in rejection of the use of quotas as a political strategy. Quotas seem to many feminists from the region to smack of the undemocratic manipulation of the political process by the previous regimes through the installation of puppet ‘representatives’ in parliaments, whose job it was merely to rubber-stamp decisions taken elsewhere, i.e. in the Central Committees and Politburos of the ruling Communist Parties (with women notably absent from those higher echelons of political power). However, the experience of drastically falling levels of female political representation in early democratic elections in several countries in the region eventually led to shifts in this attitude.9 Women activists in Georgia, Latvia and Poland, for example, now advocate the adoption of quotas for women as the necessary short-term strategy for achieving some level of critical mass of women, and thus as a mechanism for the achievement of gender equality, in parliaments and legislatures. In Poland, strong lobbying by the Parliamentary Women’s Lobby and the adoption by three political parties of a 30 per cent quota rule led to an increased percentage share, rising from 13 per cent in 1997 to 20 per cent in 2001 in the Sejm (Lower House) and from 12 per cent to 23 per cent in the same period in the Senate (Upper House) (Fuszara, 2000; Spurek, 2002). Another reason for not abandoning the national state, which is particularly pertinent in the case of Central and Eastern Europe, is the loss of social entitlements which followed the transformation process (Daskalova, 2000: 346–7). During a 1995 political debate in Hungary, the proposal to dismantle remaining social welfare entitlements was justified by arguments that ‘social expenditures had to be brought down to secure a “healthy” economy, while welfare universalism had to be abolished to ensure economic “growth”’ (Haney, 2002: 186). Women’s relative loss of access to the labour market has been well documented (Einhorn, 1993, 1997; Lokar, 2000). So also have the issues of discriminatory hiring practices and sexual harassment that have followed (Daskalova, 2000: 340, 342; Einhorn, 1997; Lokar, 2000; NWP/OSI, 2002). I have long argued that the neoliberal market paradigm empowers the male economic actor as the citizen with the capacity to exchange contracts in the marketplace. Without social entitlements, for example, to adequate and affordable childcare, and in a context where women are still seen as primarily responsible for looking after children, they do not have an equal capacity to access the public spheres of either the market or the polity. This situation is exacerbated by the nationalist and religious discourses paramount in several countries of the region which allot women sole responsibility for the private sphere and enjoin them to produce babies for the nation

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(Slapsak, 1997; Gapova, 1998; Daskalova, 2000: 350; Zhurzhenko, 2001b). Such discourses insidiously support the economy’s need to shed labour and provide a rationalisation for the closure of childcare facilities. In this context, it is necessary to rethink the optimal modality for the achievement of gender equitable outcomes, particularly in relation to the question of women’s full participation in determining policies and practices that affect their lives, exerting influence as active political subjects. I have expounded elsewhere (Einhorn, 1995; 2000a) a theory of social entitlements rather than one of individual rights as best enabling the necessary conceptual and practical linkages between state, market and household. It is necessary to reiterate here that the state, historically the locus of welfare and social provision, and the actor with regulatory power over working conditions, has a crucial role to play in enabling women to develop the capacity to access both market and polity on an equal basis with men. Obviously, the nation-state’s power to enforce decent working conditions is waning in the face of powerful transnational corporations. In future, therefore, there will be a need to develop transnational regulatory bodies for the protection of citizens’ and workers’ rights. However, for the short to medium term, in the absence of easily recognisable or accessible bodies of this kind, political participation at the nation-state level will remain important. The extent to which the regulatory role in relation to issues of social justice and gender equality hitherto played by the nation-state is increasingly taken on by supranational legislative and enforcement bodies such as the European Parliament or the European Court of Justice, is a development to be watched. Finally, I want to return to the issue of the level at which women’s political participation can be most effective. The transformation process has seen a veritable explosion of ‘civil society’ activity in Central and Eastern Europe, at the same time as the role of civil society associations and NGOs is the focus of funding and policy-making by international donor agencies and governments alike. Political theory has long established that women – and not only those adopting the anti-state stance particular to this region in the post-communist period – find grass-roots and local, single-issue as opposed to universalist and mainstream political party involvement, to be more in tune with and compatible with their commitments and lifestyle. An enormous number of NGOs has emerged in the region, many of them initiated and managed by women. However, in the particular context of a rigidly applied neoliberal market model and the loss of social provision this entails, such political involvement takes on particular meanings and is accompanied by particular risks.

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Specifically, there is a danger of what I have called elsewhere the civil society ‘trap’ (Einhorn, 2000a; Einhorn and Sever, 2004). This is where women’s NGOs in effect provide some of the welfare functions abandoned by the state. KARAT, an advocacy coalition of women’s NGOs in the region formed following the 1995 Beijing UN conference, states that women are active in NGOs on an equal footing with men, and that NGOs have been successful in influencing government policy in several countries. However, they also document the lack of capacitybuilding and expertise, the dependence on foreign donors and the distortions this can produce in NGO priorities and activities (Barendt, 2002; KARAT, 2002). KARAT speaks of the necessity of professionalisation of NGO advocacy work; Sabine Lang argues in contrast that the ‘NGOization of feminism’ dilutes its political and dynamic impact (Lang, 1997). My theory of a civil society ‘trap’ relates to the ways in which it is women’s unpaid labour – often of women made redundant who have difficulty finding re-employment – that provides social supports such as childcare or care of the elderly. This labour remains invisible, simultaneously depended upon yet unrecognised by state agencies. Women’s NGOs and grass-roots activist groups are filling the vacuum where the state has withdrawn from public service provision. This seems to me a ‘trap’ which derives at least in part from the idealisation of civil society that followed the collapse of state socialism. Civil society was seen as the epitome of the democratic space that had been lacking earlier, both by dissident activists and (primarily male) theorists within the region, and by Western analysts and international donor agencies. There are debates around the conceptualisation of civil society and its relationship to autonomous women’s or feminist movements. In the context of the transformation process in Central and Eastern Europe, Ferenc Misslevitz, a Hungarian academic and former dissident activist, once commented: ‘We dreamed of civil society. What we got were NGOs.’ Compounding the civil society ‘trap’ is what I call the civil society ‘gap’. This relates to the lack of channels of communication between NGOs and social movements on the one hand, and political power structures and state agencies on the other. How does civil society activism by women translate into gender-sensitive policy-making? KARAT identifies two problems in the region which precisely exemplify this ‘gap’: Despite the fact that a process of opening the state authorities to the public has started, NGOs are kept outside mainstream policy

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formation. … The main obstacle is the unresponsiveness and unwillingness of the administration to engage in a dialogue with civil society or even with other departments and governmental institutions. (KARAT, 2002) Thus there are risks in focusing on bottom-up strategies, or grassroots activism, to the exclusion of involvement in conventional party politics and the policies of gender mainstreaming. In conclusion, I would argue – as did Catherine Hoskyns in relation to the EU – that there is a need for both top-down gender mainstreaming policies and for grass-roots campaigning pressure on the part of strong women’s and feminist movements (Hoskyns, 1996). Jacqui True and Michael Mintrom validate the key role of social movements and particularly the transnational feminist movement in ‘the diffusion of gendermainstreaming mechanisms’ (True and Mintrom, 2001: 27). In her later study of the efficacy and transformative potential of gender mainstreaming as a strategy, True concludes that ‘gender mainstreaming is an openended and potentially transforming project that depends on what feminist scholars, activists and policy-makers collectively make of it’ (True, 2003a: 368). Without support from mainstream politicians and the institution of properly supported mechanisms for their implementation, gender mainstreaming policies cannot succeed. On the other side of the balance sheet, only pressure from below can ensure that issues of gender equity are kept on the agenda of national, supranational and international institutions, and that gender-sensitive policies are not merely written into legislation, but are also given weight in terms of the human and financial resources necessary for their implementation. Only then can policies such as gender mainstreaming or quotas or other mechanisms designed to achieve greater gender equity make a real difference, not only women’s lives, but to the life and health of the whole of societies, nationally and internationally.

Notes 1. It goes without saying that the transformation process has differed in pace, scope and nature within individual countries in the regions. Beyond individual country differences, the trends evident over the past 15 years vary within the region. Thus there are both notable inter-country differences and contrasting directions of development between the sub-regions of East Central Europe, Eastern and South-Eastern Europe and Central Asia. The process of EU enlargement is contributing to widening the gaps between these regions in terms of political participation, as this chapter will discuss.

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2. On the debate about the use of the term ‘transformation’ as a more accurate term than the more commonly used ‘transition’, see Einhorn (2000b); Einhorn and Sever (2005); Gal and Kligman (2000a: 11–12). 3. In terms of their impact on the transformation process in this region, I would characterise as premature claims that ‘the neoliberal Washington consensus has given way to a “post-Washington consensus” aimed at integrating social and economic dimensions of development … and challenging the old state versus market dichotomy’ (Bergeron, 2003: 397; see also Monbiot, 2003). Rather, I find Jane Jaquette’s view (in the same journal special issue on gender and democratisation) apt in relation to this region, namely that the increasing level of women’s political participation in many countries in the world ‘has not altered the neoliberal consensus that is harmful to their interests’ ( Jaquette, 2003: 331). 4. See O’Connell Davidson (2006) for the contested and problematic nature of the term ‘trafficking’. 5. In this path-breaking work, Cockburn applied and developed the concept of ‘transversal politics’ elaborated by Yuval-Davis (1997). 6. Of course, this emphasis on ‘difference’ in feminist theory is not exclusive to Eastern Europe, since it is also reflected, as Tat’jana Zhurzhenko notes, in the shift within Western feminism from a ‘feminism of equality’ to a ‘feminism of difference’ (Zhurzhenko 2001b: 519). On difference feminism in international social movements, see Mansbridge (2003). 7. ‘If we look at women in Eastern Europe now, it seems to me that we would be better helped if we were to seek ways of exchanging ideas and experiences rather than to assume that we … have all to offer and nothing to learn’ (Bassnett 1992: 12–13). 8. Some might argue that both of these strategies are top-down mechanisms; however, it could be argued that the introduction of quotas is something women’s movements in many countries have fought to have introduced. The argument is that whilst numerically more women politicians does not guarantee the introduction of gender-sensitive legislation or the implementation of gender equitable policies, nevertheless, achieving a ‘critical mass’ of women is a pre-condition for this to occur, since marginalised ‘token’ women have no possibility of altering the prevailing gendered hierarchies of power. 9. Women’s political representation fell drastically in the first democratic elections from an average 33 per cent to levels of 10 per cent and below. Even more alarmingly (given the token nature of representation during the state socialist period), the level fell further in several countries in subsequent democratic elections. Thus in Albania, for example, women held 36 per cent of parliamentary seats prior to 1989. Their share fell to 20 per cent in 1991, but much more drastically, to 7 per cent in the 1997 elections. There appears to be an East–East divide opening up, with Central European countries showing improvements in levels of female political participation in subsequent elections, while Eastern and South-Eastern Europe and the Central Asian republics levels continue to fall. However, in several countries where there has been improvement, it is only slight. In Ukraine, women held 4.2 per cent of parliamentary seats in 1994, and 5.6 per cent in 1998. In Hungary, the level rose from 7 per cent in 1990 to 8.5 per cent in 1998 (NWP/OSI, 2002: 11; UNICEF, 1999; in several cases, what has happened is that the East European level has fallen to one comparable with Western European countries).

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References Acsady, J. (1999) ‘Urges and Obstacles: Chances for Feminism in Eastern Europe’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 22 (4): 405–9. Barendt, R. (2002) ‘Women for Europe and Europe for Women: KARAT Coalition Lobby-building, Network Creation, Building Alliances and Gaining Power’, Paper presented to the conference Europe’s Daughters: The Traditions, Expectations, and Strategies of European Women’s Movements, Berlin, June. Bassnett, S. (1992) ‘Crossing Cultural Boundaries or How I Became an Expert on East European Women Overnight’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 15 (1): 11–15. Bergeron, S. (2003) ‘The Post-Washington Consensus and Economic Representations of Women in Development at the World Bank’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 5 (3): 397–419. Bulgarian Gender Research Foundation (2003) Gender Assessment of the Impact of EU Accession on the Status of Women in the Labour Market in CEE, Sofia: BGRF. Available from: http://www.karat.org/eu_and_economy/gender_assessments.html [accessed 18 April 2005]. Cockburn, C. (2000) ‘The Anti-essentialist Choice: Nationalism and Feminism in the Interaction between Two Women’s Projects’, Nations and Nationalism, 6 (4): 611–29. Cockburn, C., Stakic-Domuz, R. and Hubic, M. (2001) Women Organizing for Change: A Study of Women’s Local Integrative Organizations and the Pursuit of Democracy in Bosnia-Herzegovina, Zenica: Medica Zenica, Infoteka. Daskalova, K. (2000) ‘Women’s Problems, Women’s Discourses in Bulgaria’, in S. Gal and G. Kligman (eds), Reproducing Gender: Politics, Public, and Everyday Life after Socialism, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 337–69. Drakulic, S. (1992) How We Survived Communism and Even Laughed, London: Hutchinson. Duhacek, D. (1998) ‘Eastern Europe’, in A. M. Jaggar and I. M. Young (eds), A Companion to Feminist Philosophy, Oxford: Blackwell, pp. 128–36. Einhorn, B. (1993) Cinderalla Goes to Market: Citizenship, Gender and Women’s Movements in East Central Europe, London and New York: Verso. Einhorn, B. (1995) ‘Ironies of History: Citizenship Issues in the New Market Economies of East Central Europe’, in B. Einhorn and E. J. Yeo (eds), Women and Market Societies: Crisis and Opportunity, Aldershot and Brookfield: Edward Elgar, pp. 217–33. Einhorn, B. (1997) ‘The Impact of the Transition from Centrally Planned to Market-based Economies in Women’s Employment in East Central Europe’, in E. Date-Bah (ed.), Promoting Gender Equality at Work, London: Zed Books and ILO, pp. 59–84. Einhorn, B. (2000a) ‘Gender and Citizenship in the Context of Democratisation and Economic Reform in East Central Europe’, in S. M. Rai (ed.), International Perspectives on Gender and Democratisation, Basingstoke and London: Macmillan, pp. 103–24. Einhorn, B. (2000b) ‘The Terminology of “Transition”’, Discussant’s Comments in M. Lazreg (ed.), Making the Transition Work for Women in Europe and Central Asia, World Bank Discussion paper no. 411, Washington, DC: World Bank, pp. 107–10.

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Einhorn, B. and Sever, C. (2004) ‘Gender, Civil Society and Women’s Movements in Central and Eastern Europe’, in J. Howell and D. Mulligan (eds), Gender and Civil Society, London and New York: Routledge, pp. 23–53. Fraser, N. (2005) ‘Democratic Justice in a Globalizing Age: Thematizing the Problem of the Frame’, Paper presented to a Symposium at the University of Sussex, 7 March. Fuszara, M. (2000), ‘New Gender Relations in Poland in the 1990s’, in S. Gal and G. Kligman (eds), Reproducing Gender: Politics, Publics and Everyday Life after Socialism, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, pp. 259–85. Gal, S. and Kligman, G. (2000a) The Politics of Gender after Socialism, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Gal, S. and Kligman, G. (eds) (2000b) ‘Introduction’, in S. Gal and G. Kligman (eds), Reproducing Gender: Politics, Publics and Everyday Life after Socialism, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Gapova, E. (1998) ‘Women in the National Discourse in Belarus’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 5 (3–4): 477–88. Gapova, E. (2001) ‘Understanding the Other: A Response to Tiffany Petros’ Article’, Central Europe Review, 3 (2). Available from Women’s/Gender Studies Association of Countries in Transition Electronic Library: www.ZensKestudie.edu.yu/wgsact/ e-library/e-lib0007.html (accessed 4 July 2005). Gapova, E. (2002) ‘On Nation, Gender, and Class Formation in Belarus … and Elsewhere in the Post-Soviet World’, Nationalities Papers, 30 (4): 639–62. Haney, L. (2002) Inventing the Needy: Gender and the Politics of Welfare in Hungary, Berkeley, Los Angeles, London: University of California Press. Havelkova, H. (1993) ‘A Few Pre-Feminist Thoughts’, in N. Funk and M. Mueller (eds), Gender Politics and Post-Communism: Reflections from Eastern Europe and the Former Soviet Union, New York and London: Routledge, pp. 62–73. Havelkova, H. (2000) ‘Abstract Citizenship? Women and Power in the Czech Republic’, in Barbara Hobson (ed.), Gender and Citizenship in Transition, London: Macmillan, pp. 118–38. Hoskyns, C. (1996) Integrating Gender: Women, Law and Politics in the European Union, London and New York: Verso. International Helsinki Federation for Human Rights (2000) Women 2000: An Investigation into the Status of Women’s Rights in Central and South-Eastern Europe and the Newly Independent States, Vienna: IHF. Jaquette, J. (2003) ‘Feminism and the Challenges of the “Post-Cold War” World’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 5 (3): 331–54. Jalusic, V. (2002) ‘Between the Social and the Political: Feminism, Citizenship and the Possibilities of an Arendtian Perspective in Eastern Europe’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 9 (2): 103–22. Kalivodova, E. (forthcoming 2005) ‘Czech Society in Between the Waves’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 12 (4). KARAT (2002) NGO Advocacy – Advocacy NGOs, Summary of Conclusions of a Report on Women’s and Feminist NGOs in Albania, Bulgaria, Croatia and Romania, See KARAT website: http://www.karat.org/ [accessed 11 May 2005]. Lang, S. (1997) ‘The NGOization of Feminism’, in J. Scott, C. Kaplan and D. Keates (eds), Transitions, Environments, Translations: Feminisms in International Politics, London and New York: Macmillan, pp. 101–20.

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Lokar, S. (2000) ‘Gender Aspects of Employment and Unemployment in Central and Eastern Europe’, in Lazreg (ed.), Making the Transition Work for Women in Europe and Central Asia, World Bank Discussion Paper no. 411, Washington DC: World Bank, pp. 12–25. Mansbridge, J. (2003) ‘Anti-statism and Difference Feminism in International Social Movements’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 5 (3): 355–60. Monbiot, G. (2003) ‘Poisoned Chalice’, The Guardian, 19 August. Mouffe, C. (1992/1997) ‘Feminism, Citizenship and Radical Democratic Politics’, in J. Butler and J. W. Scott (eds), Feminists Theorize the Political, New York and London: Routledge, pp. 369–84; reprinted in C. Mouffe, The Return of the Political, London and New York: Verso. Network Women’s Programme, Open Society Institute (2002) Bending the Bow: Targeting Women’s Human Rights and Opportunities, New York: Open Society Institute. Network Women’s Programme and The Open Society Foundation Romania (2002) Equal Opportunities for Women and Men in the EU Accession Programme: Poland, Available at: http://www.eonet.ro/Poland.htm [accessed 11 May 2005]. O’Connell Davidson, J. (2006) ‘The Trouble with “Trafficking”’, in C. van den Anker and J. Doomernik (eds), Trafficking and Women’s Rights, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Posadskaya-Vanderbeck, A. (2002) ‘Without Women, Democracy Fails’, Director’s Message, in Network Women’s Programme, Bending the Bow, New York: Open Society Institute, pp. 6–7. Rai, S. M. (2004) ‘Gendering Global Governance’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 6 (4): 579–602. Regulska, J. (2002) ‘Women’s Agency and Supranational Political Spaces: The European Union and Eastern Enlargement’, Paper presented at the Annual Meeting of the American Association of Geographers, Los Angeles, 20–24 March. Roman, D. (2001) ‘Gendering Eastern Europe: Pre-Feminism, Prejudice, and East– West Dialogues in Post-Communist Romania’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 24 (1): 53–66. Roth, S. (2002) ‘Opportunities and Obstacles – Screening the EU Enlargement Process from a Gender Perspective’, Paper presented at the conference Euroland and Eastern Europe: Assessing the New Integration Processes, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, 22 March. Slapsak, S. (1997) ‘Nationalist and Women’s Discourses in Post-Yugoslavia’, in J. W. Scott, C. Kaplan and D. Keates (eds), Transitions, Environments, Translations: Feminisms in International Politics, New York, London: Routledge, pp. 72–8. Spurek, S. (2002) Women, Parties, Elections, Lodz: Women’s Rights Centre Foundation. Steinhilber, S. (2002) Women’s Rights and Gender Equality in the EU Enlargement. An Opportunity for Progress, WIDE (Network Women in Development Europe) Briefing Paper, October. Szalai, J. et al. (1990) ‘Social Policy and Socialism: Citizenship, the Working Class, Women and Welfare’, in B. Deacon and J. Szalai (eds), Social Policy in the New Eastern Europe: What Future for Socialist Welfare? Aldershot: Avebury, pp. 34–5. True, J. (2003a) ‘Mainstreaming Gender in Global Public Policy’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 5 (3): 368–96. True, J. (2003b) Gender, Globalization and Postsocialism: The Czech Republic after Communism, New York, Chichester: Columbia University Press.

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True, J. and Mintrom, M. (2001) ‘Transnational Networks and Policy Diffusion: The Case of Gender Mainstreaming’, International Studies Quarterly, 45: 27–57. UNICEF (1999) Women in Transition: The MONEE Project. Regional Monitoring CEE/CIS/Baltics, 6, New York: United Nations. Verloo, M. (2002) Keynote Address to International Gender Mainstreaming Conference, Leipzig, 6–8 September. Waylen, G. and Rai, S. M. (eds) (2004) Special issue on ‘Gender, Governance and Globalization’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 6 (4). Yuval-Davis, N. (1997) Gender and Nation, London: Sage. Yuval-Davis, N. (1999) ‘The “Multi-Layered Citizen”: Citizenship in the Age of “Glocalization”’, International Feminist Journal of Politics 1 (1): 119–37. Zhurzhenko, T. (2001a) ‘Free Market Ideology and New Women’s Identities in Post-Socialist Ukraine’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 8 (1): 29–49. Zhurzhenko, T. (2001b) ‘(Anti)National Feminisms, Post-Soviet Gender Studies: Women’s Voices of Transition and Nation-Building in Ukraine’, Österreichische Osthefte, 43 (4): 503–24.

5 ‘Gender Equality’: On Travel Metaphors and Duties to Yield Hege Skjeie

Introduction Securing gender equality is an ongoing democratic challenge. The ‘culture of equals’ is intrinsic to democracy, as Anne Phillips (2004) has written: democracy involves an assertion about the fundamental equality of all human beings and an expectation that this will be reflected in public policies and law. Principles of gender equality are written into international covenants, national constitutions, laws and bureaucratic guidelines. But how gender equality actually translates into law and public policies is highly controversial politics. Gender equality is conceived of in various ways. But all kinds of gender equality politics contain battles over rights, recognition, participation and distribution. This chapter discusses gender policies in the Nordic countries, and particularly in Norway, in light of what I call the ‘travel metaphor’, which is embedded in the gender equality discourse. This is the cherished image of the ‘road towards’ gender equality, the view of automatic, gradual equalisation between genders vis-à-vis power and influence. As a way of handling persistent inequality, political leaders often frame ‘gender equality’ as a kind of nationally encapsulated, common journey. In the official gender equality policies that I have analysed, equality rights are mainly treated as consensual, free of controversy and achievable over time. The travel metaphor portrays ‘gender equality’ as a linear process of evolvement where we all, together, continuously take new steps towards the goal. This goal might still be ‘far ahead’, but nevertheless it is securely within our reach; we just have to travel for as long as it takes and far enough. A brief example illustrates the case. When the Norwegian representative for gender equality policies recently met the UN women’s committee 86

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in New York, her main message was that although all gender equality goals had ‘not yet’ been obtained, ‘considerable achievements’ had been made. In official gender equality rhetoric, we regularly find references to areas of society which might have ‘a long way to go’. In others, ‘considerable steps have been taken’. Some ‘setbacks’ might occur, some parts of society are ‘lagging behind’, while others are ‘almost there’. There is an implicit ‘be patient’ clause to official gender equality rhetoric which makes abundant use of the road/travel/journey. It implies that everybody involved is really working hard and truly doing their best to achieve the common goal. This patience clause makes it tempting to ask when, exactly, will ‘we’ finally arrive ‘there’ in the gender equal society where justice reigns uninterrupted? Are we ‘there’ when all imaginable equal rights are secured? When all gender structured violence is left behind? When all public budgets are gender equalised? When all organisations are gender mainstreamed? When all ‘reconciliation problems’ of paid work and unpaid care are finally solved? When all the world’s religious leaders have left all their gender hierarchies behind? Is there, actually, an end-station to democracy that reaches the set ideals? I wish to contrast the linear optimism of the travel metaphor of gender equality with what I (consequently) call gender equality’s ‘duty to yield’. This expression signifies all the situations where a general commitment to gender equality is combined with political willingness to grant competing principles or different sets of values precedence in actual conflict situations. Gender equality policies are shaped within complex systems of political negotiations and compromises. In political practice, gender equality often has to give way to other important values. A classic example is the yielding duty of gender equality when confronted with the principle of freedom of religious beliefs. The right to religious freedom is a cornerstone of human rights thinking. In liberal state-religion orders, this right remarkably often translates into a claim for due respect for religious doctrines and customs, and consequent group claims for rule-based noninterference from the state – so-called exemption rights. The gender hierarchies imposed by many religious doctrines and practices are often in direct conflict with women’s rights to equality. When religious groups are granted formal exemption from laws against gender discrimination, a duty for gender equality to yield is imposed. Yielding duties pose actual barriers to the recognition of gender equality rights. In this sense, there is no travelling going on. Closely connected to the image of the journey towards gender equality is one particular argument about why gender equality is so important to ‘achieve’. This argument addresses the usefulness of gender equality – the

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many ways that women will enrich the public sphere (and men the corresponding private sphere), when gender equality is finally here. Consider, for instance, the European Commission’s 2005 gender equality report. The introduction is securely set within the travel metaphor of equality: the report ‘shows advances, but inequality remains’. Then follows a standard utility argument for gender equality, which with notable lack of delicacy, is stated as follows: ‘Increased integration of women into the work force will release the productive potential of the EU [European Union] and increase social cohesion, in line with the Lisbon strategy’ (European Commission website, 2005). In my view this is a prime example of degrading pragmatism in official equality talk. The Commission seems to have forgotten that there are democratic obligations which are different from productivity concerns. Democracy cannot be subsumed under productivity. What if increased integration of women into the workforce did not increase social cohesion in the EU? Should gender equality principles be abolished? This chapter contrasts the image of the gender equality ‘journey’ with actual duties to yield, as such duties can be observed in Norwegian gender equality law. In my view, yielding duties deserve at least as much attention as ‘the steps taken’ at any time. Three examples of yielding duties are given particular attention in this chapter. First, I discuss the limited scope of regulations to secure equal pay for work of equal value. Second, I address the general exemption from anti-discrimination legislation which is granted to religious communities. And third, I discuss the incorporation of CEDAW (Convention on the Elimination of All forms of Discrimination Against Women) in Norwegian law, which has been carried out in such a manner so as to give CEDAW less binding force than other human rights conventions. I shall set my discussion within a framework that is based on a policy analysis study conducted by Mari Teigen and myself. This analysis was a part of a large-scale government initiated research programme on ‘Power and Democracy’ in Norway over the period 1998–2003 (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003).1

The travel metaphor The rhetoric of linear gradualism, or incrementalism, has been identified as a dominant gender equality discourse in each and every Nordic country (see Freidenvall, Dahlerup and Skjeie, forthcoming). While I do not think that gradualist conceptions of equality journeys are in any way exclusive to this territorial unit, there is a particular legacy of feminist writings on Nordic political cultures that might be partly ‘responsible’ for

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this discursive frame. The influential work on Scandinavian welfare state policies and the concurrent concept of ‘state feminism’ launched by Helga Hernes in the late 1980s, was tied to a claim that Nordic democracies embody a state form that makes it possible to transform them into women-friendly societies. The concept was largely held to be synonymous with ‘state interventionism’ aimed at the emancipation of women and the creation of ‘women-friendly’ politics (see Bergman, 2004). State feminism captured political settings where mobilisation ‘from below’ – i.e. feminist movements – combined with ‘integration politics from above’ – i.e. party political elites and institutions – in state initiatives where social rights expansion, and party political inclusion, were the two sides of the same transformation vision. In the women-friendly society, injustice on the basis of gender would be largely eliminated without an increase in other forms of inequality (Hernes, 1987: 15). State feminism coined a gradual development of policies, which in the end would fulfil all claims embedded in a principle of gender justice. In my opinion, the concept of state feminism, as it was developed in the 1980s, also mirrored actual feminist understandings of societies being ‘on the right course’. There was a perception of a political ‘breakthrough’ in the way political leaders approached gender equality. A factual alliance between women and the state was being formed (see the discussion in Skjeie and Teigen, 2003). In the following decade, feminist research elaborated on, and quarrelled over, the meaning, reality and implication of Nordic state feminism (Borchorst and Siim, 2002). Political elites have, however, to a large degree stuck with the promise of Nordic exceptionalism. Often, the framing of ‘gender equality’ in Nordic political debates is one of ‘almost there’. As Anne Maria Holli has outlined regarding the Finnish ‘national journey’: It has become increasingly commonplace in the 1990s to regard Finland as a ‘gender equal’ society par excellence already. The Finnish people are considered to have internalised ‘gender equal’ values and behaviour, in contrast to other people and cultures which have not ‘come so far’. The problems we observe in our country are not considered serious, but as minor blemishes in an otherwise perfect society. (Holli, 2003: 17–18) A similar observation is made by Annette Borchorst (2004) concerning the Danish ‘national journey’. To this she adds the observation of a

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problematic ‘We’–‘They’ construction of recent gender equality rhetoric. This is the claim that Danish citizens have already reached the endstation of the equality journey. As of today, in Danish political rhetoric dominated by a centre–right government, the ‘equality project’ is mainly claimed to be of relevance to ‘Muslim countries’ or to immigrant minority groups now living in Denmark. In this kind of rhetoric, local gender equality ‘exceptionalism’ thus mixes with nationalism in quite disturbing ways. In a comparison of French and Finnish parliamentary debates on equal representation, the respective ‘parité’ ‘quota’ debates, Eva Raevaara (2005) identifies a larger common content of nation-building in the rhetoric of gender equality. It all tends to underscore the country’s ability to progress towards a perfect democracy. The equality discourses have a common content in that they model the road to gender equality as a route of national exceptionalism. For instance, Raevaara describes one strand of the parité debate as insistent on the particular French obligation to remain a model of equality for all. After all, France is – as the world well knows – the birthplace of human rights. The Finnish parliamentarians simply maintained that Finland could also excel among nations when adopting a gender quota law. This way, Finland would both prove its firm place within the Nordic tradition of excellent equality, and hope to achieve a status of first among equals. Alternatives exist of course; these are dominant but not monolithic public discourses. Anne Maria Holli (2003) comments on how a countertendency is particularly notable, not least because of its prominence, in Swedish official gender equality discourse (see also Borchorst, Christensen and Siim, 2002; Freidenvall, Dahlerup and Skjeie, forthcoming). Consensual ‘travel-talk’ is here challenged by an analysis of structural gender discrimination which is framed as ‘the gender power order’. ‘The gender power order’ is clearly more focused on concepts of gender discrimination, systemic exclusions and misrecognition (Eduards, 2002). It is a counter-tendency in gender equality discourse which is not least inspired by the ‘genus system’ analysis of the Swedish power commission from the late 1980s (Hirdmann, 1990) and the following official ‘women’s power investigation’ in the latter part of the 1990s. The ‘gender power order’ has also informed Swedish legislation to combat violence against women, including the legal ban on buying sex (Borchorst, Christensen and Siim, 2002; Eduards, 2002; Skjeie and Teigen, 2003). Thus structural discrimination perspectives are clearly more institutionalised in Swedish party politics than in other Nordic ‘state feminisms’.

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The problem of institutional male dominance In all these ‘best countries’ of gender equality, patterns of strong institutional male dominance persist. This is, for instance, true in all the Nordic countries, as quite comparable large-scale national surveys have shown. In the research team in charge of the Norwegian ‘Power and Democracy Study’, we made a comprehensive analysis of official gender equality policies (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003). This analysis included a survey among institutional elite groups. Two thousand top leadership positions were identified, and the persons holding the leadership positions were interviewed. The survey revealed an overall male dominance of nearly 85 per cent in national elite positions, with variations from 60 to 65 per cent in party politics to 98 per cent in private business corporations. The statistics clearly show that male dominance is overwhelming in the societal elites of current Norwegian society. Thus they bluntly demonstrate that in elite levels of society, few ‘roads’ to gender equality have yet been paved in Norway. The top leaders in sectors such as business, state administration, party politics, media, the church, the arts, academia, law enforcement and defence were interviewed about attitudes to various aspects of gender equality policies. The survey documented what we call the problem of benevolent non-commitment. Verbal support for gender equality combines with strong male dominance in formal positions of power and influence. Today, there is a broad political consensus at the rhetorical level about the significance of gender equality for societal well-being. Yet a general consensus, across different leadership strata, on the importance of gender equality policies combines with quite specific willingness to subordinate gender equality to competing principles or interests. This often happens when leaders are asked about prioritising political issues which simultaneously pose conflicts of interests in areas of particular relevance to different leadership strata. To give a few examples: business leaders often support affirmative action in hiring processes in the public sector, but largely reject gender quotas on the boards of private businesses. Most church leaders are eager protagonists for quota regulations in politics, workplaces, higher education, etc., but largely reject the idea that gender discrimination within in the Norwegian state church should be prohibited by law.2 Labour party leaders are clearly more supportive of a prohibition of gender discrimination within the church, than of politics which prioritise wage increases in the care professions of the public sector (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003). In this study, we argue that the extreme male dominance in formal positions of power and influence become more ‘manageable’ through

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the gender equality travel rhetoric. The ‘journey’ allows for problems of gendered power to be ‘almost’ solved. The travel requires patience. Simply, more time needs to pass for patterns of positional male dominance to gradually evolve into patterns of positional gender balance. Strong (statistical) male dominance in the leaders’ own organisations is not primarily identified as a problem of discrimination, of dubious network recruitment practises or of misogynistic attitudes towards women in positions of authority. Most important, the leaders claim, is the fact that ‘too few women apply’ for leadership positions (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003).3 In elite levels of society, gender equality is portrayed as a harmonious common project. It is pasted into a language that creates images of change in ‘the right direction’ happening all the time – even if/when simple statistics clearly demonstrate more permanence than change. There are, again, exceptions to the insistence on gradual progress. Different types of quota policies are controversial, but receive strong support in several leadership strata. For several years, the male hegemony in top leadership levels of large business corporations has been challenged by gender equality policies as constituting an ‘unacceptable’ state of affairs. Here, even cabinet ministers have declared themselves to be simply ‘fed up’ with the situation. In 2004 a new law on the composition of the boards of publicly owned corporations thus came into effect, establishing a regulation minimum of 40–60 per cent female–male gender balance. If private companies do not ‘sufficiently’ improve the gender balance of their boards, the same regulation will apply to the private sector from the year 2006. This law is the only one of its kind. No other government has demonstrated similar interventionist ambitions as regards the governing bodies of businesses. The law is modelled on the 40–60 regulation of gender balance, which since 1987 has applied to all governmental appointed boards and committees, and today also encompasses locally appointed committees. However, the politicians’ ‘own’ bodies, the parliament, and regional and municipal councils, are exempted from similar legal regulations. Here a vague argument about the voters’ right to decide the composition of elected bodies, or else a similarly vague argument of ‘party autonomy’, seems to support politics of non-interference. Furthermore, several party political internal quota regulations are already in place. Generally speaking, these suffice to produce an ‘acceptable’ national (statistical) gender balance of about 30–40 per cent women among delegates. In the words of the travel metaphor, political bodies have ‘already’ moved ‘sufficiently far’ in ‘the right direction’, and consequently (if somewhat inconsistently) need no permanent rule about their compositions.

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Equality’s utility In the Norwegian context of 1980s ‘state feminism’, Helga Hernes (1982, 1987) outlined three main arguments for political representation demands. She distinguished between a ‘democratic right to participation’ argument, which she called ‘the justice argument’, an argument about ‘women’s important contributions’, which she called ‘the resource argument’, and an argument about ‘conflicting, gender structured, political interests’, i.e. ‘the interest argument’. In actual political debate, all three kinds of arguments were often intertwined. Yet the resource argument can be seen to fit exceptionally well with portrayals of society’s harmonious struggle to ‘achieve’ gender equality, in the sense that arguments about ‘women’s contributions’ are consensus building, conflict avoiding and thus non threatening political arguments. My own analyses of party political conceptualisations of a ‘politics of presence’ (cf. Phillips, 1995) in the late 1980s, which included interviews with MPs and the then world famously mediated ‘Women’s Cabinet’ headed by Gro Harlem Brundtland, revealed the importance of what I called a ‘rhetoric of difference’ supporting internal party quota policies and gender sensitive nomination politics (Skjeie, 1992). The rhetoric of difference stressed women’s and men’s different contributions to political life, based on different (gendered) perspectives and experiences, as the ‘inclusion of women’ was here conceived to challenge and change established political priorities within all the major political parties (although in somewhat different, party specific ways). Correspondingly, in the first attempts to regulate the gender composition of public boards and commissions, one major argument from the initiators (the committee preparing the legislation) was how women would contribute to a broader presentation of ‘the public point of view’. When ‘reserved seats’ for female students were introduced in higher technical education in Norway, ‘women’ were held to provide a new, and much needed, focus on communication skills and user-friendliness. All over, we can identify political arguments which stress that women are to enter boardrooms, judicial offices, professorships, etc. in order to ‘save the institutions’ – that is, a range of utility-oriented arguments which claim that the inclusion of ‘women’ will better serve students, advance the climate in the workplace, improve risk assessments, enhance the company image. In the book Menn i mellom we also give an example from the debate on formal regulations for gender balance on company boards, provided by the Norwegian Equality Centre: ‘Gender balance on the boards of private businesses means caring for businesses’ own interests, and this way

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also Norwegian interests … Affirmative action in this respect is an issue of profits’ (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003: 200). In neoliberalist rhetoric the utility argument easily turns into an argument on profitability. This has been witnessed in much of the Norwegian equality debate during the last decade. Anne Therese Lotherington (2002) has described how equality initiatives directed towards the private sector of the economy are now mainly supported by arguments about ‘profit’. These mainly stress how a continuing neglect of ‘competent women’ will hurt businesses as they will not be able to realise their full profit potential. This kind of profitability talk is by no means limited to the private sector. It is a general argument in official gender equality talk: the ‘resources’ of ‘competent women’ are not fully ‘utilised’ in society (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003). Anna Jónasdóttir (1991) has remarked that ‘utility’ is indeed the defining framework of the gender equality discourse, as utility considerations are woven into a never-ending struggle to define the ‘gender essence’. Is it sameness? Is it difference? Who are ‘women’? Two centuries of political discourse have centred on defining women’s role, and correspondingly, Jónasdóttir claims, elaborating what ‘good’ woman bring to public life – to the order and stability of the state; to the pleasure of men; to the transformation of politics (Jónasdóttir, 1991: 203). All too often, as Martha Nussbaum has observed, women are not treated as ends in their own right, persons with a dignity that deserves respect from laws and institutions (Nussbaum, 2000). This holds true for much gender equality rhetoric as well. The complacent utility arguments are deeply problematic. When gender equality is argued for as a means to secure competitiveness, the category of ‘women’ becomes a representation of ‘means’ for companies and organisations to use. This utility rhetoric puts equality on the defence, as a field that must be defended with something else than its own value. Such discussions circle around a far too old – and endlessly patriarchal – requirement that women should contribute ‘as a gender’ – with their collective empathy, their collective talent and their collective reason. If not, what are we nagging about?

Equality’s duties to yield Under the harmonising umbrella of the equality ‘journey’, and/or general references to equality’s ‘utility’, quite specific political negotiations and bargains take place. In the book Menn i mellom (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003) we describe these bargaining processes as producing a series of pragmatic compromises where competing rights are prioritised, and the

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equality ‘contract’ is frozen (cf. Hirdman, 1990). In Norwegian gender equality politics, three major compromises are particularly notable, as they are literally sanctioned by law. They can all be observed in the actual phrasing of the Gender Equality Act 1978 which covers working life, politics, education, civil society and family life. Here, in an encounter with the constitutionally recognised right to ‘religious freedom’, protection against gender discrimination was set aside. In an encounter with the ‘freedom of negotiation’, the right to pay equity was adjusted. In an encounter with the ‘freedom of association’, the right to equal participation was diminished. The very restricted scope of the legally guaranteed right to equal pay for work of equal value presents a subtle example of equality’s duty to yield in Norwegian legislation. Until the Gender Equality Act was revised in 2002 only identical work, performed by a male and a female employee respectively, both employed within the same business/organisation, could be compared under the regulation providing a right to equal pay for work of equal value. The limited scope of the equal pay regulation in the Gender Equality Act was due to intervention from the leadership of the trade union movement. They demanded a ‘hands-off’ policy on equal pay when their comrades in the Labour Party government prepared the law in the mid-1970s. Any regulation that could impede the ‘right to free negotiations’ was simply unacceptable, the trade union representatives declared.4 The wage controversy was largely contained within the upper echelons of the labour movement. The negotiations were secret, and threats were being made about the trade unions’ possible withdrawal from all ‘cooperative’ work with the government. Yet the issue did undoubtedly relate to a principal dispute over how negotiation freedoms could curb legal interventions to secure equal pay for equal work. The wage compromise reached in the mid-1970s defines a context where ‘fair wages’ can also be seen to collide with concerns about ‘national productivity’. Resisting all attempts to change the definitional boundaries of equal pay in the Gender Equality Act, the Ministry of Finance, in the early 1990s, took care to list all its objections to a legally based comparison of wages which moved beyond the ‘identical work’ limitation. According to the Ministry such changes would: • contribute to rigidity in wage formation; • prevent readjustments and new entrepreneurship; • imply increases in the average wage level, and corresponding increases of cost problems in the Norwegian economy;

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• contribute to weakened public budgets, or reduced employment within the public sector; • create negative competition conditions for employment and value creation in the private sector of the economy (Skjeie and Teigen, 2003: 152). And that was that. Only comparisons with International Labour Organisation conventions, EU Directives and equal pay regulations in other Nordic countries were able, in 2002, to change the Norwegian legal interpretation of equal pay for work of equal value. Yet the Ministry of Finance’s long list of reservations simultaneously, if indirectly, comments on the European Commission’s concerns to release ‘productive potential’ in the EU (cf. the Introduction). Equal pay regulations in Norwegian law was kept on a minimum level exactly because a fair law was perceived to threaten productivity.

Religious exemptions to equality In the Norwegian Gender Equality Act there is one generally stated rule of exemption. The prohibition of gender discrimination applies to all areas of society excepting the ‘internal conditions’ in religious communities. The yielding duty of gender equality, when the principle clashes with religious beliefs, is an all too familiar theme. Historically, religious freedom has implied safeguarding forms of worship from transgressions by a state with the power to define the conditions for religious practise as well as ensuring equal treatment of different religions (Ketcher, 2001). And modern liberal democracies typically hold the protection of religious freedom to be ‘among the most important functions of government’ (Nussbaum, 2002: 168). But as such, ‘religious freedom’ has often been understood as a special group right. That is, religion constitutes an area where a general law might have limited application. This is the conventional understanding of religious freedom in Norway, where religious communities have the right to discriminate on the basis of gender, or on the basis of sexual orientation, if and when such discrimination is rooted in religious conviction. This exemption also encompasses the official state religion’s main institution; the Church of Norway (‘the state church’). The general exemption was made politically possible through the collective intervention of the whole state church establishment, including the bishops, the theological colleges and the Ministry of Church Affairs, during the preparation of the act in the mid-1970s. The Labour Party government at first had no such general exemption plans; the plan was,

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to the contrary, to regulate all equality matters of the official state church firmly within the scope of this law. But the fury of the bishops when faced with this infringement on the institutional autonomy of the church, simply became too much for the government to handle. In principle the exemption right in the Gender Equality Act means that neither the general ban on discrimination, the obligation of authorities and employers to promote equality, the protective measures regarding employment, dismissal and pay equity, nor regulations pertaining to equal rights to and during education and training apply to the internal affairs of religious communities.5 To paraphrase ‘travel-talk’ once more: The Norwegian Gender Equality Act presents no road at all towards equality for religious women. Within their own communities of faith, they are, to the contrary, principally exempted from the protection of the law. In a new chapter on equality in working life in the Act relating to worker protection and the working environment, religious communities are correspondingly exempted from the general ban on discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. And in a new law prohibiting ethnic and religious discrimination, corresponding exemption rules accommodate religious practices, although with a notable ‘exception to the exemption’ for employment relations that have no religious aims. One other ‘exception to the exemption’ is at least as noteworthy. This relates to a recent controversy over the content of textbooks used in Christian private schools in Norway, within the so-called Accelerated Christian Education (ACE) scheme. Here religious utility considerations of ‘women’ combine with instructions to subordination in clear contradiction of any gender equality principle. In social science classes in ACE schools pupils would learn that: When God had completed the creation, he saw that all was good. With only one exception: It was not good for man to be alone. Man needed a close community with other people, or he would be lonely. To accommodate this need, God created woman and instated the family. (http://www.kjonnsrettferdighet.no/Utdanning/62 [accessed 11 May 2005]). Younger pupils in other social science classes were invited to mark the best answer to the following multiple-choice assignment: • Wives will be (sorry, sad, happy) to obey their husbands. • (Wives, cats, dogs) shall obey their husbands.

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• A wife obeys God when (he, she, it) obeys the husband. (http://www. kjonnsrettferdighet.no/Utdanning/62 [accessed 11 May 2005]). These textbooks have, however, been declared to be in violation of the Gender Equality Act. This decision, in 2001, by the Equality Ombud and the Complaints Board was possible due to a separate clause in the Act which stipulates that all teaching materials used in schools shall build on gender equality (§7). In this case, the claim to a general exemption right was simply overruled, with the complaints board’s decision integrating state obligations following from CEDAW in its ruling.6

CEDAW in Norwegian law CEDAW does not regard the relation between religion and women’s rights as a legitimate area of exemption. Religious stereotyping and gender hierarchies are directly challenged in the provisions of the Convention (see Vuola, 2002; Børresen, 2004; Hellum, 2004). By ratifying the Convention, states commit themselves to ‘take all appropriate measures to eliminate discrimination against women by any person, organisation or enterprise’ (Art 2 e). In Norway, a recent controversy over the formal status of CEDAW has added to the cataloguing of gender equality’s yielding duties. In February 2004, the Conservative-Christian Democratic coalition cabinet decided not to afford CEDAW the same legal status as other human rights conventions have been given in Norwegian legislation. The Human Rights Act 1999 incorporates four international human rights conventions ratified by Norway directly into Norwegian legislation, with precedence granted to the incorporated conventions in cases when a conflict arises between these and other statutory provisions. These conventions have thus been given what is often referred to as ‘semi-constitutional’ status. The Human Rights Act incorporates the European Convention on Human Rights, the Covenants on Civil and Political and Economic, Social and Cultural Rights, and the Convention on the Rights of the Child. Both CEDAW and the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) have, in accordance with the parliament’s wishes, been in line for incorporation. But now the government has decided that neither of them will be included in the Human Rights Act. CEDAW will be incorporated into the Gender Equality Act, and ICERD into new law which prohibits ethnic discrimination. This decision simply means that no precedence clause will apply for CEDAW

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and ICERD. In all probability it also means that when a conflict arises between CEDAW’s protection and human rights’ guarantees that are secured through the Human Rights Act, CEDAW guarantees will simply have to yield.7 I have a personal interest in challenging this new hierarchy of human rights in Norwegian legislation. The cabinet cites a final conclusion of the Power and Democracy study as the prime reason behind this move. This conclusion, which was made with my dissent, states that the Norwegian political system is in a process of fragmentation, where ‘democracy’, understood as national majority rule through party political representation and formal chain of governance, is disintegrating. Many processes of change were interpreted as pointing in this direction. In particular, however, this main conclusion stressed an increase in legislation on citizen rights as contributing to a trend in which courts take control of political issues. When human rights conventions are incorporated in Norwegian law, the rulings of international courts become increasingly important in defining the limits of national political decisionmaking power. The expansion of legally binding human rights regimes, particularly during the past decade, was thus portrayed as a threat to ‘democracy by popular will’. (NOU, 2003: 19, Østerud, Engelstad and Selle, 2003).8 The formal status of CEDAW has been through an extensive process of review and comment. Virtually all of the institutions and agencies consulted during the review process in 2003 recommended that the convention be incorporated into the Human Rights Act. Only two were negative: the Legislation Department at the Ministry of Justice and the Office of the Attorney General. Both declared that they were deeply worried about the relationship between ‘judicialisation’ and the overall political room to manoeuvre (Skjeie, 2004: 19–21).9 The stated objection to the incorporation of CEDAW into the Human Rights Act is not, then, based on any form of substantive evaluation of the significance of the convention’s equality principles. Incorporation into the Human Rights Act is instead rejected on the basis of general considerations about the appropriateness and/or danger of institutional power shifts. The reasoning behind this particular instruction to yield might still be assumed to go roughly as follows: The human rights safeguarded in CEDAW are only of ‘minor importance’, because women’s rights are safeguarded ‘adequately enough’ in Norway already, while the discrimination against which women are not protected, is generally viewed as not ‘too harmful’. What this reasoning actually implies, is a political acceptance of the relativisation of women’s human rights.

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Conclusion There might be an overwhelming appeal to a gradualist way of thinking and talking about gender equality. The travel metaphor can be seen to offer both hope and optimism in its harmonious evolvement-oriented outlook on society and life. But in important ways the equality journey remains at odds with human rights based reasoning. Rights discourses do not similarly engage in gender small talk, about the few steps remaining, or the goal already in sight. Rather, they present equality as a principal right. Although sets of rights are obviously – in actual political life in different territorial bounded settings – gradually claimed, recognised, rejected or reinforced, and very differently so, ‘the journey’s’ gradualism remains at odds with a perspective of democratic rights and obligations. To set the opposition maybe far too bluntly, travel perspectives advocate, or encourage, patience, pragmatism and local partial ‘solutions’. Democratic rights stress principally non-negotiable, state/societal ‘obligations’. Interpretations of rights are not fixed, but rights perspectives still resist ‘the journey’s’ pragmatism and partiality. Rights discourses engage with ‘cultures of discrimination’ as clearly contrary to democratic ‘cultures of equals’. Freedom from discrimination forms one cornerstone of international conventions on human rights. Women’s right to equality is at the heart of CEDAW. International debates on democratic diversity, and in particular on multiculturalism, are specifically focused on the problem of potentially conflicting rights (cf. Okin, 1998, 1999; Kymlicka, 1999; Nussbaum, 1999). Yet much work initiated under the umbrella of CEDAW also makes more than abundant use of the travel metaphor. Opening the session of the Commission on the Status of Women marking of Beijing ⫹ 10, UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan leapt straight into the travel metaphor, reminding the audience how ten years earlier women gathered in Beijing ‘took a giant step forward’. Over this decade, there has consequently been ‘tangible progress on many fronts’ (Press Release SG/SM/9738). UNIFEM’s gender equality webpages are, quite correspondingly, filled with ‘travel’ allusions. For example, UNIFEM’s executive director, Noeleen Heyzer, indicated UNIFEM’s key role in supporting countries to ‘move forward’ on all gender equality fronts. Yet UNIFEM has also seen how ‘gains can be lost’, and ‘advances reversed’. ‘Four steps’ were highlighted in the preparation for Beijing ⫹ 10. Achieving gender equality demands a ‘two-track’ approach – gender mainstreaming and renewed investment in women’s human rights. And we all need to work together to give countries a single, clear set of benchmarks for ‘monitoring

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progress’ on the implementation of gender equality and women’s empowerment (Heyzer, 2004). The proposition advanced in this chapter is somewhat at odds with this belief. Here I have argued that by encapsulating gender equality as a common, step-wise, joint journey, the positioning of equality as an individual and democratic right is at risk of being more easily ignored. Prototypically, the state binding norms of CEDAW play almost no role in Norwegian elite structured, travel-oriented gender equality discourse. CEDAW’s specification of equality rights is mostly thought of as being of relevance ‘abroad’.10 When women’s right to non-discrimination and the concurrent discrimination ban in the Gender Equality Act are invoked in debates otherwise informed by the travel metaphor, the issue soon enough turns into one of ‘how big’ a problem discrimination ‘really’ is – in ‘our’ society. The belief often stated is that it is ‘really not so big’. Various ways of downplaying rights imply that the dominant gender equality discourse also hesitates to address the actual political problems posed by conflicting rights. Yet any law has to confront this challenge of gender justice: How are cultural and religious claims to institutional autonomy, and specific, group differentiated, rights, reconcilable with women’s right to equality? The harmonising strategies embedded in travel metaphors and journey rhetoric have obvious difficulties in coping with these kinds of democratic challenges. What is imposed in the absence of confrontation, far too often turns out to be a tacit duty for gender equality to yield.

Notes 1. A similar research programme was carried out in Denmark during the same period. Scandinavian governments have repeatedly initiated comprehensive scholarly investigations of the state of power and democracy in their countries. The tradition started with a ten-year long Norwegian ‘Power Study’ (1970–80), followed by a five-year Swedish investigation (1985–90) and then these two new parallel studies (1998–2003). Both surveys have, as did a Swedish investigation ten years earlier, focused on gendered power relations. For an overview, see Skjeie and Borchorst (2003). 2. With the notable exception of the few women church leaders. 3. Although quite dramatic differences in perceptions between men and women in leadership positions should be noted. 4. Under no circumstances should gender structured wage differences which followed from collective agreements by labour market parties be subjected to scrutiny by the Equality Ombud. Such cases are referred to the corporatist labour court; Arbeidsretten. 5. This, however, is not the Equality Ombudsman’s current interpretation of the exemption right as regards the Church of Norway. But no discrimination

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6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Hege Skjeie cases within the Church have so far been tried by the Ombud and the Complaints Board. A further presentation of legal assessments is offered in Skjeie (2004, 2005). Which was made with an interesting majority-minority voting pattern: the women members of the complaints board formed the majority, the men the minority. According to the minority, the constitutionally guaranteed right to religious freedom ought to trump the gender equality act in this case. In all probability this legal ‘solution’ also implies that the government’s earlier statement about ‘no conflict’ between CEDAW and the general exemption clause in the Gender Equality Act will remain unchallenged (cf. Skjeie, 2004, forthcoming 2005). In the final report to the government, I consequently made a largely dissenting argument, i.e. on the democratic importance of an (internationalist) discourse and politics of rights, new majority-minority challenges, and CEDAWs importance in balancing dilemmas of conflicting rights (NOU 2003: 19, 74–87). And they both referred to the majority statement from the Commission on Power and Democracy regarding how ‘judicialisation’ in general, and international human rights regimes in particular, shift power from the political arena to the courts, thus adding to the breakdown of the democratic infrastructure (see Skjeie, 2004: 19–21). Two kinds of gender-based violations form an exception to this rule: international trafficking in women and children, and domestic violence and abuse, which are officially framed as violations of human rights (NOU 2003: 31, Governmental Plan of Action against Trafficking, Skjørten, 2004).

References Bergman, S. (2004) Book Review: ‘Amongst Men: Male Dominance and Gender Equality Politics’, Nordic Journal of Women’s Studies, 12 (3): 182–4. Borchorst, A. (2004) ‘Skandinavisk likestillingspolitik tur-retur, på dansk billet’, Nytt Norsk Tidsskrift, (3–4): 264–74. Borchorst, A., Christensen, A. D. and Siim, B. (2002) ‘Diskusjoner om kjøn, magt og politik I Skandinavia’, in A. Borchorst (ed.), Kønsmakt under forandring, Copenhagen: Hans Reizels Forlag. Borchorst, A. and Siim, B. (2002) ‘The Women-Friendly Welfare States Revisited’, Nordic Journal of Women’s Studies, 10 (2), 90–8. Børresen, K.E. (2004) Kjønnsmodeller i kristendom og islam, University of Oslo: Artikkelutkast, Faculty of Theology. Eduards, M. (2002) Fôrbjuden handling. Om kvinnors organisering och feministisk teori, Stockholm: Fritzes. European Commission website (2005) Available at: http://europa.eu.int/comm/ employment_social/news/2005/feb/gender_equ_rep_2005_en.html [accessed 3 May 2005]. Fraser, N. (2003) ‘Social Justice in the Age of Identity Politics: Redistribution, Recognition and Participation’, in N. Fraser and A. Honneth (eds), Redistribution or Recognition? A Political-Philosophical Exchange, London: Verso.

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Freidenvall, L., Dahlerup, D. and Skjeie, H. (forthcoming) ‘The Nordic Countries: an Incremental Model’, in D. Dahlerup (ed.), Gender Quotas Worldwide, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Hellum, A. (2004) ‘Reproduktive rettigheter og religionsfrihet’, In Demokrati, religionsfrihet og kvinners menneskerettigheter, Norges forskningsråd. Hernes, H. (1982) Staten – kvinner ingen adgang? Oslo: Universitetsforlaget. Hernes, H. (1987) Welfare State and Women Power – Essays in State Feminism, Oslo: Universitetsforlaget. Heyzer, N. (2004) ‘Women’s Equality, Development and Peace: Achievements and Challenges for Beijing ⫹ 10’, Presentation at the 59th session of the UN General Assembly Third Committee, 12 October 2004, Available at: http:// www.unifem.org/news_events/story_detail.php?StoryID ⫽ 174 [accessed 3 May 2005]. Hirdman, Y. (1990) Genussystemet, In SOU 44, Demokrati og makt i Sverige. Makutredningens hovudrapprt. Holli, A.M. (2003) Discourse and Politics for Gender Equality in the Late Twentieth Century in Finland, Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Jónasdóttir, A. (1991) Love, Power and Political Interests, Ørebro Studies 7, Ørebro: University of Ørebro. Ketcher, K. (2001) ‘Kvinners rettigheter i et nytt rettslig landskap’, in B. S. Tranøy and Ø. Østerud (eds), Mot et globalisert Norge? Oslo: Gyldendal Akademisk. Kymlicka, W. (1995) Multicultural Citizenship, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kymlicka, W. (1999) ‘Liberal complacencies’, in J. Cohen, M. Howard and M. C. Nussbaum (eds), Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Susan Moller Okin with Respondents, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Lothrington, A. T. (2002) ‘Konstruksjon av politiske problemer: Hva slags problem representerer ‘likestilling’?’ Unpublished paper presented at the Conference Det likestilte Norden som framtidsverksted, Stockhom, February. NOU (2003) Makt og demokrati. Sluttrapport fra Makt- og demokratiutredningen [Power and Democracy: The Final Report from the Power and Democracy Study], NOU, 19. NOU (2003) Retten til et liv uten vold, NOU, 31. Nussbaum, M. (1999) ‘A Plea for Difficulty’, in J. Cohen, M. Howard and M. C. Nussbaum (eds), Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Susan Moller Okin with Respondents, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Nussbaum, M. (2000) Women and Human Development. The Capabilities Approach, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Okin, S. M. (1998) ‘Recognizing Women’s Rights as Human Rights’, in APA Newsletters, 97 (2). Okin, S. M. (1999) ‘Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women?’ in J. Cohen, M. Howard and M. C. Nussbaum (eds), Is Multiculturalism Bad for Women? Susan Moller Okin with Respondents, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Østerud, Ø., Engelstad, F. and Selle, P. (2003) Makten og demokratiet. En sluttbok fra Makt- og demokratiutredningen, Gyldendal Akademisk [Power and Democracy: The Power and Democracy Study]. Phillips, A. (1995) Politics of Presence, Cambridge: Polity Press. Phillips, A. (2004) ‘Democracy, Recognition and Power’, in F. Engelstad and Ø. Østerud (eds), Power and Democracy. Critical Interventions, Aldershot: Ashgate.

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Raevaara, E. (2005) ‘In the Land of Equality? Gender Equality and the Construction of Finnishness and Frenchness in the Parliamentary Debates in Finland and France,’ Draft paper, Helsinki: Christina Institute for Women’s Studies. Skjeie, H. (1992) ‘Den politiske betydningen av kjønn’, ISF rapport, 92:11, Oslo: ISF. Skjeie, H. (1998) ‘Quotas, Parity and the Discursive Dangers of Difference’, in J. Klausen and C. Meyer (eds), Has Liberalism Failed Women? New York: Palgrave. Skjeie, H. (2004) ‘Trosfrihet og diskrimineringsvern’, in Kvinneforskning, no. 3. Skjeie, H. (forthcoming 2005) ‘Equality, Law and Religious Gender Discrimination: Norwegian Examples’, in S. Cabbibio and K. Børresen (eds), The Impact of Cultural and Religious Gender Models in the European Formation of Socio-political Human Rights, Oslo: University of Oslo. Skjeie, H. and Borchorst, A. (2003) ‘Changing the Patterns of Gender and Power in Society’, In NIKK Magazine no. 3, vol. 4. Skjeie, H. and Teigen, M. (2003) Menn i mellom. Mannsdominans og likestillingspolitikk, Oslo: Gyldendal Akademisk. Skjørten, K. (2004) ‘Kvinnemishandling – kunnskap og politick’, in Kvinneforskning, no. 3. Vuola, E. (2002) ‘Remaking Universals? Transnational Feminism(s) Challenging Fundamentalist Ecumenism’, Theory, Culture and Society, 19 (1–2), 175–95.

Part II Applying New Insights to Old Problems

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6 Education and European Women’s Citizenship: Images of Women in Bulgarian History Textbooks Krassimira Daskalova

When speaking about the low level of women’s political participation and gender justice, one should pay special attention to the cultural and institutional factors that propagate the old patriarchal notions about ‘woman’s nature’, ‘woman’s role’, ‘woman’s destiny’ and the discourse of ‘essential difference’. Foremost among these factors of socialisation is the education system which sustains the gender hegemony (in terms of Gramsci and Althusser). Such institutions shape the dominant discourse of the ‘feminine’ woman and posit certain standards and ideals of womanhood. In this chapter I will explore the character of school education and especially of textbooks in some southeast European/Balkan states, with special emphasis on Bulgaria, and their connection to civic education and the formation of citizenship of the future generations from a gendersensitive perspective during the period of the so-called transition after 1989. As many scholars have argued, the well-known French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu being one of them, the school institution is among the major institutions – together with the Church and the State – responsible for the preservation of old stereotypes and male domination (Bourdieu, 1998). Though it is clear that textbooks are not the only channels responsible for education and socialisation of the young, it is impossible to deny their important role in the cultivation and maintenance of the prevailing gender order, attitudes and values. With their implicit conformity, textbooks (and school education in general) perpetuate the existing social rules, roles, relations, actions and positions. Textbooks and especially history ones have always served the ideological propaganda of the politically powerful. Bearing in mind that they are products of the rather conservative state system, it is hard to believe that innovation would be encouraged. 107

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Here I will analyse some new Bulgarian history textbooks, pointing out their one-sided way of depicting women. I will start with the political changes in Eastern Europe after 1989 and their impact on the representations of the past, history writing and the content of the history textbooks. Then I will present some theoretical considerations in order to justify my ‘resisting’ feminist reading and to show the explicit and implicit biases of the textbooks’ authors. I will go on to an empirical analysis of three textbooks: one for the fifth grade and two ‘alternative’ textbooks for the eleventh grade. I will conclude by summing up the results of my research.

Attempts at reforming school textbooks after 1989 Before 1989 there were ideological and structural differences within the education of the countries in southeast European/Balkan states. Since the fall of communism, school textbooks have been rewritten in many of the former socialist countries to rid them of the ideological distortions of the ‘old regime’ and to adjust history to current political events (among the most suggestive cases being contemporary Serbian textbooks; Stojanovic, 2003). This process of rewriting went along with a discussion and re-evaluation of the educational systems, school curricula and the contents of the textbooks (Deyanov, 1995). Several collective undertakings of specialists from various European countries should be mentioned in this respect, most of them dealing with history textbooks. In the early 1990s the Bulgarian Ministry of Education and Science and the ‘Intercultural Centre for Minority Studies and Cultural Interactions’ commissioned a research project entitled ‘Rewriting the New Bulgarian History in the High School Textbooks’. In the second half of the 1990s one major undertaking in this regard was the ‘Southeast European Joint Project’ (JHP), an initiative of the Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeast Europe based in Thessaloniki, Greece (Koulouri, 2001; 2002). What appears to be the main outcome of the research and workshops organised by the JHP is the recognition that without exception all educational systems in southeastern Europe/the Balkans are ethnocentric, i.e. they favour the dominant national group. The participants in the project pointed out striking similarities in their national textbooks, especially in the way the Balkan ‘Other’ is presented (versus national pasts). The overall aim of the project became to fight the stereotypes, prejudices and old clichés in the history textbooks of the region. Some of the participants saw this in terms of democracy and human rights. Among all the texts included in the volumes with the

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proceedings from the above-mentioned scholarly meetings, there are only a couple of words about the importance of women’s oral history sources and the portrayal of women in ‘history’.1 Thus what remained missing from the critique developed by the participants in the JHP was attention to the stereotypical portrayal of women. There have been several more research projects dealing with the textbooks. One of them, sponsored by Koerber Stiftung, was dedicated to rewriting East European history by developing new emphases and historical fields. Another – sponsored by the British Council – resulted in the establishment of national helpdesks for intercultural learning materials in several European countries.2 But only a few of them paid attention to gender dimensions within national education. A good example of the latter was the research done on primary school textbooks in Croatia3 and another project by Romanian colleagues entitled ‘Gendering Education in Romania’.4 In both cases the findings reveal little awareness of gender issues in school activities and no specific concern for these issues.5 In the context of the ongoing reform of Romanian primary and secondary education, most of the teachers interviewed showed that they were not prepared for gender-sensitive education. They were predisposed to maintain the cultural norms (including those based on gender) and rather act in a conservative way than to be ‘(gender) norm breakers’.6 As far as Romanian textbooks are concerned, according to the findings of the research project, they are gender-insensitive and full of implicit and explicit sexist qualifications (e.g. the maintenance of old-fashioned myths of masculinity and femininity in the textbooks’ texts and illustrations, the absence of education for private and family life, etc.). While history textbooks in the Southeast European countries are no longer devoted solely to the narration of wars, diplomatic treaties and the actions of monarchs and state officials, from a gender perspective their content and the knowledge they offer concerning the economy, social life, social groups, and culture are far from satisfactory. History textbooks are still a long way from being means for the cultivation of critical assessment of historical discourse; they still do not offer conceptual tools for a better understanding of the conflicting interests of various social actors in history, a knowledge that should help young people to understand better the current social and political realities (Dragonas and Frangoudaki, 2001).

General considerations Textbooks transfer, along with knowledge, the political, social and cultural norms of society. Present-day history textbooks (rewritten after 1989)

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in particular provide a new conceptualisation of the past. But even in these new versions of history women are still ‘those who have no right to history’, to borrow an expression from Lucien Febvre. The experience and representations of women are still largely absent from the new national history canon, demonstrating the sexist biases of the new educational ‘politics’ parading as civic and liberal. This is yet another example that the so-called ‘turning points’ of history do not turn around the lives of women and men in the same way. Whatever we teach must be honest, in the sense that it must be true to the surviving ‘traces’ of the past. But this should not prevent us as historians from seeing that the trace becomes evidence in the process of using it to support an argument, i.e. interpretation ‘prior to which, although it exists, it remains just an unused piece of stuff from the past’ (Jenkins, 2003: 59). Rewriting the Bulgarian history textbooks means starting a symbolic ‘civil war’ about the interpretations of the past that will affect school curricula. If until now women’s history researchers have accepted playing the role of history’s objective analysts, it is no longer possible because what is at stake is the formation of the civic identity of future generations. This also means that the official discourse developed in the history textbooks can be seen as a hidden programme for civic education. It is important to problematise the functions and selections of the historical matter presented in history textbooks, to articulate the discriminatory silence that casts a shadow on women’s historical existence and to overcome the silence about the past of half of the population as this past is our ‘future’s past’. Some of the well-known twentieth century’s scholars (starting with Benedeto Croce7) questioned the claim of objectivity in social science, and even Max Weber8 in his presumably value-neutral concept of social science recognised the role of values. Others showed the manipulative and ideological character of historical writing. History writing, according to them, has a dual ‘nature’ – as scholarship and as a resource that legitimises political power. As Marc Ferro put it, historical writing – in spite of its declarations of ‘scientism’ – has two main functions: ‘divination’ and ‘fight’. These ‘missions’, according to him, have been realised to a different extent throughout history writing, but their meaning remains unchangeable. He points out that the ‘scholarly quality’ and the methodology of history serve as no more than ‘a fig leaf’ for ideology (Ferro, 1992: 8–13). Dominick Lacapra likewise insists that ‘we could no longer rely on the idea that objectivity is a normal given of historiography that is assured by established procedures or that bias is a deviation from normality for which we can simply “correct” ’. More than that: ‘the constructive place of the historian’ in the ‘process of elaborating a range of subject-positions

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(those of researcher, reader, and theorist or intellectual)’ should be recognised and taken into consideration (Lacapra, 2000: 26). Using similarly sobering critical language Bourdieu showed that the role of education for cultural reproduction and social change, and for canonical scholarly writing, not only transmits but redistributes ‘cultural capital’ and power in a society, as well (Bourdieu, 1978). Feminist historians, on the other hand, have shown that women as a subject were ‘hidden from history’ and from other humanities and social sciences, and that scholarship is far from being ‘objective’ or ‘universal’ (Bock, 1991: 1). Taking this into consideration, it is curious to follow how and why the historical narrative is putting into relief, or ‘silencing’, certain periods or aspects of the historical past. The fact that all history textbooks are ethnocentric is well documented in the international historical scholarship; the Bulgarian case is not a unique phenomenon. Here, however, I am not interested in this main ideological manipulation of Bulgarian historiography, which is nationalistic and centred on the Bulgarians, without concern for the historical past of the minority groups and the multi-ethnic character of the territories considered as irredenta. I will pay attention only to the discriminatory vision of women, implicit or explicit in the history textbooks’ narrative. Needless to say, in doing so, I am not claiming to be systematic in any way. Rather, my opinion is based on a (directed, purposeful and ‘resisting’9) feminist reading and interpretation of the contents of some of the new history textbooks published after 1989. That is to say, I do share the opinion that scholarship in general, and history writing in particular, is not ‘value-free’. Scholarly writing is to a larger extent ‘coloured’ by the theoretical, political and personal preferences of the author. Below are mine. According to Pierre Nora, school textbooks – along with autobiographies – are among the ‘functional sites’10 of memory where every society stores its memory for safekeeping or where it discovers it as a necessary part of its identity. The discourse of the history textbooks represents the official historical memory, which to a great extent is the outcome of an inter-subjective agreement of a small group of people belonging to the establishment. Hence the questions: whose memory does the traditional Bulgarian historical narrative articulate and what kind of historical knowledge does it offer?

Democratisation after 1989 and history narratives: whose history? The image of the ‘Other’ or the image of our own ‘self’ that lives in our conscience and resides in our memory depends largely on how we were

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taught history at school. That is why it is important to note that women are not often mentioned as actors of history in the Bulgarian textbooks’ narratives. In the interplay between women’s ‘presence’ and ‘absence’ one can discover the development of a sexist vision of the Bulgarian women’s past. The silencing and misrepresentation of the second wave of Western feminisms, the development of a negative image of ‘feminism’ and feminists, combined with the firm belief of women under state socialism in their ‘emancipation’ led to a lack of a sense of gender inequality among Bulgarian men and women, historians included. This might suggest why, with the ‘democratisation’ of society and scholarship after 1989, the experience and the representations of women were not included in the new national historical canon, confirming the political character of history writing. So, even today, after the huge development and the recognised influence of feminism and of women’s/gender studies – women’s/gender history in particular – on the contemporary humanitarian paradigms in other parts of the world, women do not have a historical existence for Bulgarian historical scholarship. Of course, the historical narrative is ‘a selective view of the past’, but sometimes the selection speaks much more for the present than for the past. In what follows I would like to elaborate on the representation (or absence) of women in the present-day history textbooks in Bulgaria. My text has several limitations: 1) it is based only on textbooks about national (Bulgarian) history; and 2) it is based only on recently published history textbooks (after 1989, i.e. the beginning of the most recent Bulgarian ‘transition’). However, the way of presenting world history is not very different, and one should assume that the representations and images of women that appear in world history textbooks are of a similar kind, as the scholarly context and interests are similar for most of the established representatives of the historical ‘guild’. From about a dozen new history textbooks I have studied, all published since 1989, I will analyse three: one history textbook for the fifth grade and two ‘alternative’ textbooks for the eleventh grade, all of them first published in 1996. As is known, under communism there was only one unified history textbook for every school grade. In the new conditions after 1989, in tune with the ‘democratisation’ of society, several ‘alternative’ history textbooks from different authors or teams of authors appeared, all of them approved by the Bulgarian Ministry of Science and Education. But all changes notwithstanding, the Bulgarian historical scholarship today is still traditional, which means that it is mostly a platform for the political

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elite. It does not pay enough attention to the spheres outside politics – such as the workplace, household and family – and women’s position there. Let me start by presenting briefly a history textbook for the fifth grade, written by two women historians, both of them university professors. The textbook (first published in 1996) deals with the Bulgarian history from the fifteenth century until 1878 (i.e. the periods of Ottoman rule and the so-called National Revival). The content of this textbook is quite different from most history textbooks dealing mainly with political history. Out of 50 units, 21 are not traditional political history: they are devoted to economic and agrarian history and ‘l’histoire des mentalités’. One should point out, however, that only one out of all 50 lessons is dedicated to an issue commonly referred to as ‘woman’s sphere’ – everyday family life. Moreover, this lesson is not oriented towards every pupil as the authors recommend it only to ‘the curious’ among them, and included it as additional reading to the main historical corpus. Their decision to do so is guided by the supposedly greater historical significance and ‘universal’ value of the political events and economic phenomena. Under communism ‘an author’s history’ was unthinkable, impossible and incompatible with the practice of textbook writing, as the authors were expected to follow the one-sided and ideologically distorted, presumably Marxist ‘scholarly’ truth. The textbook under consideration already shows the authors’ personal vision of Bulgarian history between the fifteenth and nineteenth centuries as a result of their own research. However, they did not pay attention to the most recent developments in the Bulgarian social and cultural history.11 In this textbook, there is only one lesson dealing with an aspect of women’s/gender history – everyday family life.12 Using the arguments of the concept of ‘gender parallels’,13 the authors present the separate spheres for men and women – public life for men and life within the household for women.14 Implicit is their idea that within Bulgarian agrarian society of the nineteenth century, there existed two spheres of equal power: the home with its everyday domestic duties for women and a separate, publicly oriented sphere for men. Though ‘the father decided whether the children would go to school’ and how and when certain work related to the household needed to be done, and his word was quasi-law in most Bulgarian families, still, according to them, the mother ‘was respected and loved by her husband’, because All household matters depended on her, she was responsible [sic] for the hygiene and the order of the house, for the meals of the children,

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for the domestic animals and for the winter supplies. She was an advisor and a supporter of her husband in difficult times. (Mutafchieva and Gavrilova, 1996: 139) In other words, according to these unconscious, unreflective and valueladen opinions, women reigned within the home as undisputed mistresses. And when ‘the man’ went away for seasonal work or on business, She remained both as a mother and a father … looked after the workshop, commanded [sic] the children, span and weaved and sold on the market all things produced by her to get money for household expenditure. (Mutafchieva and Gavrilova, 1996: 139) No doubt a man would really have to love a woman very much in order to honour her with so many obligations! The only implication about the (hierarchical) construction of gender difference, told to the fifth-graders, is the statement that from their early childhood ‘boys started to learn man’s work’ while girls were taught ‘how to sew and knit’, ‘to weave and spin’ and ‘how to bake bread’. But in spite of the separate domains, ‘the whole family participated in the work on the fields’. The quotation above sounds very much like a lecture on the typical traits and mentality of the Bulgarian people – a principal concern of the so-called ‘national psychology’, inspired by the German Volkspsychologie. This type of knowledge has the pretence of scholarly status and can be characterised as arch-patriarchal and traditionalist. I would like to cite (for a comparison) some lines by a well-known Bulgarian male writer, Konstantin Petkanov, who was educated in Germany and was an admirer of Volkspsychologie. His article, entitled ‘The Spirit of the Bulgarian Woman’, was published in the authoritative philosophical journal Filosofski pregled in 1933. Here are some typical lines from it: The Bulgarian woman has as the main goal of her life to give joy to everybody. That is why she does everything one wants from her: she gives birth, cleans, makes bread, washes, sews, weaves, ploughs, sows, gathers in the harvest, digs, etc. … When she loves, she shows her love through the work … her personality is nothing, her family is everything for her… (Petkanov, 1933: 386)

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But the reader should not think that the limitations that patriarchy puts on ‘the Bulgarian woman’ makes her unhappy or ‘a man’s slave’. Just the opposite: She neither complains about life and its difficulties nor tries to gain her freedom. (Petkanov, 1933: 387) We can recognise implicit and even explicit in the writings of contemporary Bulgarian historians the old patriarchal ideology of the type of ‘folk psychology’. By reading and hearing in schools such essentialising representations of the self-negating creature, existing through her children and her family, the school girls and boys internalise them to the point that they become ingrained in their minds as ‘habitus’.15 These texts convey their messages indirectly, by simply assuming that, for women, there are certain ‘right’ things to do and correct ways to behave. What is more frustrating to me is that women historians partake in what a Bulgarian male colleague of mine in another context very properly defined as ‘self-colonising cultures’ (Kiossev, 1995). Those women historians themselves willingly subscribe to an ideology of ‘femininity’, and thus become complicit in their own subordination.

‘Alternative’ history textbooks In this section I would like to discuss two other ‘alternative’ textbooks for the eleventh grade (again) published in 1996. The first is co-authored by (four) male university professors (Giuzelev et al., 1996); the second was written by a team of nine historians, who teach at the Department of History at Sofia University ‘St. Kliment Ohridski’, four of them women (Delev et al., 1996). The second textbook is better written and looks more modern from a methodological point of view. The material is better organised with citations of ‘prime sources’ and the main scholarly discussions, related to some of the presented topics. Thematically, however, it is again a traditional narrative (63 out of 88 units are dedicated to clearly political matters). The his(s)tory in the first textbook begins with the prehistoric past of ‘the Bulgarian lands’ and goes up to December 1994, when the first government with a woman as prime minister (Reneta Indjova) was established. Following the old Marxist clichés of history the narrative starts with the Palaeolithic epoch (Stone Age) and shares the firm conviction that gynocratic forms predominated at the dawn of civilisation; the

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authors then introduce the image of ‘the woman’ from the ‘matriarchate’ – the epoch when ‘she’ presumably ruled the society. Convinced that the matriarchate is a primitive stage in the progressive evolution of society, the authors trace its replacement by a patriarchate (as the next stage of the Bulgarian historical pageant) (Giuzelev et al., 1996: 13, 15). In fact, one can see here a strategy ‘to relegate women’s power to the remote past’, to assign them a place in ‘prehistory’, to associate them with barbarian, ‘gynocratic regimes’ with their typical absence of law and morality, all this meaning to ‘write women out of the picture’ (cited in Georgoudi, 1992: 463),16 i.e. to exclude them from history. This is what clearly happens in the Bulgarian case.17 One can observe that as one goes forward in Bulgarian history and approaches the modern age, the representations of women in the history textbooks become fewer. The next mention of women comes in the medieval period when women of noble birth appear as wives and daughters of the kings of Bulgaria, of the Byzantine Empire or other neighbouring countries. The princesses and queens, the most privileged of women (and fewest in number), are presented either as passive actors in events directed by men or as aggressive rivals and seductresses in the competition for power/the throne. While it is clear that the ruler’s office was then a source of cultural models that shaped social behaviour, it is not at all evident whether those women had any public role. The representations of the queens who belonged to the ethnic ‘Other’ are especially interesting. Foreign wives of Bulgarian kings (tsars) are named by their ethnicity, e.g. ‘the Jewish woman Sara’, ‘the Hungarian woman Ana’, ‘the Byzantine princess Maria’, etc. This follows the patterns of xenophobic (especially antiGreek) nationalist writing constructed in the period of ‘National Revival’ (Danova, 2001) but also strengthened by the authentic language of the religious misogyny of the medieval Christianity used by the authors. The close citation of the medieval sources and the reproduction of characteristics given to women there obviously demonstrate the authors’ understanding of ‘value-free’ and ‘universal’ scholarship. In the second textbook for the eleventh-graders, Bulgarian women are mentioned for the first time as historical actors in the ninth century, when they were mobilised together with men in the wars against the Byzantine Empire. Women (together with children and the elderly) appear there not only as warriors but also as passive victims of the Byzantine ‘invaders’. One story concerns the correspondence between the Bulgarian king Boris I and Theodora, the mother-regent of the emperor Michail III, a minor. Readers are informed that in a letter to Boris, she wrote that she would inevitably emerge as a winner in the war between

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them because even if he managed to defeat her, his victory would have been gained against a woman. It is understandable that medieval sources undervalue the political achievements of female actors in history in tune with the prevailing ideology of the time. But one wonders why the authors of the textbook favoured such a story and what its implicit message to pupils is. Women appear mainly as objects of dynastic marriages. They are mentioned only as daughters, granddaughters, sisters, etc. of the rulers, in some cases even without their names, i.e. they are not presented as personalities but as relatives to a great man. Due to the masculine character of medieval culture, women appear in documents and literary texts only as reflections of male visions and fantasies about them. One of the things that usually catches the attention of the medieval narrator – but also of contemporary male historians – is the woman’s beauty. There is a pervasive tradition in which women are portrayed and referred to as objects of pleasure, whose qualities are discussed by men. In the textbook under consideration there are several passages showing man’s objectifying gaze towards ‘the beauties’. Female actors once again become visible with ‘the Bulgarian contribution’ to the history of ideas through the medieval ideology of the heretics, known as ‘bogomils’ (‘dear to God’). Readers are told that the bogomils preached a negative attitude towards legal Christian marriage and considered ‘the woman to be a creature equal to the man’. The implicit message of those lines is that because only heretics believed in equality between the sexes, it is wrong to believe in such equality; that this way of thinking is peculiar to heretics, people deviating in their religious beliefs and behaviour from ‘the norm’. The bogomils, continue the authors, held explicitly sexual views, such as that ‘one should not rebel against human nature and the desire of the flesh’, and they preached that people should obey the Devil, not God (Delev et al., 1996: 131). It is clear that when put within the context of such scandalous ideas of the ‘heretics’, the idea of equality between women and men can provoke a more puritanical mind. The lesson on everyday life of medieval Bulgarians contains several lines about women. They are represented as natural creatures, as reproducers, whose main responsibility is childbearing and child-raising. According to one of the textbooks, because of the ‘high child mortality rate and the shortness of human life, people (and especially women) married early (between 12 and 15 years)’ (Giuzelev et al., 1996: 88). Women are incorrectly presented as having the right to choose the time (and partner) of their marriage while medieval marriage was largely a strategic manoeuvre

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and usually an act of violence against the wills of both girls and boys in line with patriarchalism and ingrained tradition. The authors of the ‘alternative’ textbook, however, reveal the true character of medieval marriage – a deal planned by parents during their children’s early childhood. But it would be incorrect to interpret the lack of freedom to choose a spouse as a form of oppression because similar limitations on the freedom of action were imposed on all so-called ‘dependants’. As some women’s historians rightly point out, the specific oppression of women in arranged marriages can be found in their becoming man’s dependants, the strict control exercised over their bodies and sexuality.18 However, the reader cannot find evidence of ill treatment of women in the first textbook. If she is curious enough (and looks for additional information in the alternative textbook) she will ‘discover’ something about women’s inferior status in the medieval family. She will read there that during the Middle Ages among the grounds for divorce were ‘infidelity, drunkenness, impotence but not the mistreatment of a spouse by her husband’. Actually what the pupil learns is that the husband was allowed to beat his wife. No author comments on this. (Of course, one cannot expect that authors who pretend to present only ‘objective historical truth’ would explicitly state their opinion on such a ‘marginal’ problem, even less that they would present medieval marriage from a female perspective, whatever that means.) Last but not least, and not without connection to the maleness of the authors of the textbooks (and with some national pride!), they write that ‘the women’s traditional dress … accentuated the slender waist of the Bulgarian woman’ (Giuzelev et al., 1996: 90). In other words, they imagine and see ‘the Bulgarian woman’ from the past with the typical objectifying male gaze. If the pupils read the ‘alternative’ textbook, however, they would be confused to discover that ‘everyday female dress’ was loose, and not nipped in at the waist ‘in order to hide the beauty and the suppleness of the body’ (Delev et al., 1996: 148). What women’s dress was actually like is irrelevant, since the implicit purpose in both cases is to praise ‘the beauty of Bulgarian woman’. Witchcraft in the Middle Ages interestingly is mentioned only once and then in relation to a man – the so-called Boyan-Magiosnikut (Boyan the Wizard), a son of the Bulgarian tsar Simeon I. No female witches are mentioned. Another reference to women comes in a section dedicated to family life under Ottoman domination: the students learn that the Bulgarian family is monogamous, the Muslim polygamous (Muslim men were allowed to have up to four spouses).

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The man, husband and father, was the main figure, the head of the family. According to the laws, the family’s property belonged to him, and he was the real master of the house. The spouse-mother was responsible for the everyday work and for raising the children. She participated equally with the man in the agricultural work but she was also entrusted [sic] with responsibilities for the garden, the domestic animals and the weaving of cloth. (Delev et al., 1996: 140) This is interesting. It appears that the male authors of this textbook are more aware of the asymmetry and gender hierarchy in the traditional family everyday life than the women historians already cited. Women appear for the first time as public figures in this textbook during the so-called period of National Revival. They are mentioned, however, only as participants in women’s educational societies (in one of ‘the alternative’ textbooks for the eleventh grade). Although there are at least several publications on the role of women teachers for example, not a word is written about their active participation in the communal life of the time. Quite striking also is the lack of reflection on women’s participation (as producers) in home industries, though it is well documented. Women do not appear even in the lesson about everyday life during the period of the National Revival. The historical actor described there is the depersonalised, non-gendered ‘Bulgarian’. Several women in the creative professions – actresses, artists, poets, pianists, and opera-singers – are mentioned in the period of the Bulgarian liberal nation-state (1878–1944). The paradox is that in comparison with the pre-modern, traditional society, women become even less visible in modern times despite the fact that they become more active and publicly visible (thanks to the better preserved written sources, and to the high level of women’s literacy and education). Nothing is said even about the enfranchisement of women in 1937 and 1938 (for local and parliamentary elections). Still, the authors report that in 1905 the Bulgarian National Assembly voted in the first law for the protection of women and children’s labour. Women and girls also appear on the pages of the ‘alternative’ textbook as victims of sexual abuse (rape) in 1903 during the Ilinden uprising of the Bulgarians of Macedonia and Thracia against Ottoman rule. The authors report data on 3,122 Bulgarian women violated by Muslims. Of course, I do not underestimate this fact but one wonders why women are represented in school textbooks only as natural beings: as reproducing children or as victims of male sexual aggression. As many scholars

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have shown, victimising victims contributes to the perpetuation of their victimisation. The last and only reference to women in the section on communist rule explains the demographic problems of the country in the 1970s with the migration of women of ‘fertile’ age to the towns. The migration is presented as voluntary, and nothing is said about communist politics, which mobilised and praised women either as ‘builders of socialism’ or as ‘mother heroes’, depending on the priorities of the time.

Conclusion I have analysed several new history textbooks (published after 1989) in an attempt to suggest a gender-sensitive reading, interpretation and questioning of the official history narrative that still prevails in the Bulgarian educational and scholarly institutions. In this final section I summarise the results of this study. The images of women that appear on the pages of Bulgarian history textbooks represent ‘woman’ as an immutable natural being. ‘She’ gives birth and raises children, lives her whole life at home or in the fields, takes care of the small things in everyday life, and is ‘protected’ from being active in the public sphere, where power is exercised. The reproductive (‘natural’) ‘function’ appears to be the main, if not the only, role for Bulgarian women in the past – their ‘destiny’. What transpires in the pages of the school textbooks is the sexist vision of ‘woman’ as a natural, passive and motherly creature, totally immersed in ‘her femininity’ while ‘man’ is gendered only in his relations to ‘woman’ and his attributes are considered to be universal. Men’s activities are considered to be not biological but political – something that secures their place in history. The fact that some of the authors of the history textbooks are women has in no way changed the ‘conservative’ and nation-centred spirit prevalent among the members of the profession. Aware only of their own successful professional career, women historians are not sensitive to their own ‘femaleness’ and the limits of the existing power frames. The thematic professional choices of those women historians are conditioned by the educational and scholarly institutions in which they work. The topics and issues of their interests demonstrate that they unconsciously internalise the objective social structures and norms, including scholarly ones, which become what Bourdieu would call their habitus. The very limited representations of women in history textbooks can also be explained by the fact that social history in Bulgaria is

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underdeveloped (if we exclude, that is, the ideologically distorted history of the working class that was extensively researched under communism). But even the political actions of women are not visible in the textbooks. Instead of the ‘silence of the Middle Ages’ one should properly speak about the ‘silence of the Modern Ages’ regarding Bulgarian women’s history.19 Due to the lack of goodwill and scholarly (and political) interest, women are almost absent from textbooks in spite of the existence of many documents and archival material about Bulgarian women in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. ‘History’ remains mute when historians do not allow it to speak. The presumably ‘universal’ and ‘value-free’ language of the textbooks is not innocent but ideologically manipulative. It does not help overcome the traditions of the patriarchal culture but supports their perpetuation. It possesses huge symbolic power which builds images, forms attitudes, values and modes of behaviour, and reproduces patriarchal hierarchical relations in various social domains.20 This is the power that selects some voices to be heard and causes others to be ignored, disciplined, rejected, ironised or ostracised. The incorporation of women’s history in ‘the functional places of memory’ (Pierre Nora) is an important part of the identity politics of every society. For some Western societies, this was an issue of scholarly debate and concern some 30–35 years ago, when the new wave of feminism reached its peak and helped the establishment of women’s/gender studies as a scholarly discipline. During the 1980s Western European feminists denounced the sexism hidden in their national history textbooks.21 Feminism, however, is almost nonexistent as social practice and unknown or misrepresented as an ideology in present-day Bulgaria. As everywhere in post-communist East European countries, there are ‘deepseated notions of gender difference’ combined with the idea of ‘a lack of any real sense of gender inequality’ (Watson, 1993). That is why a myth of ‘gender harmony’ is being elaborated by some East European scholars and women’s activists in contrast to the Western feminist idea of universality of gender power relations. From here, it is not difficult to reach the concept of ‘gender parallels’. It seems that communist propaganda succeeded in silencing the ‘eruptions’ and ‘flows’22 of Western feminisms. The communist notion of emancipation and equality (equated primarily with ‘the right’ to work), inculcated by the ‘old regime’ in the minds of many people, still prevails. Whoever expects different (feminist) thinking on topics that have to do with women and gender will

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have to wait until a new generation of East European feminist scholars appears, well schooled in the new paradigms of today’s humanitarian thought and free from the old Communist ideological dogmata. To represent women as active social actors in the past means shattering the stability of the traditional history narrative. Reconsidered from the perspective of women, history requires other signposts. To rewrite Bulgarian (as well as southeast European) history means starting a ‘civil war’ with existing ‘universalistic’ interpretations. But if we want our contemporary education to build a tolerant and pluralistic society in the future, women should enter History. The notion of citizenship with its key idea that all individuals are born free and equal – based on the liberal ideas of individualism and equality developed during the seventeenth century – marked a radical departure from traditional ideas of society as made up of natural hierarchies and inequalities. Liberal ideology presents the modern abstract (‘universal’) individual as a social actor without gender, but in fact this individual still possesses all the qualities that women are assumed not to have (Okin, 1979). Feminist scholars criticised the liberal (male) understanding of citizenship which applies only to rights, entitlement and patterns of participation in public institutions. They argue that it is important to explore the history of the public-private divide alongside the history of citizenship as the public and the private are valued differently, ruled by a different logic of action, and gendered. Men’s citizenship – according to feminist scholars – was constructed on the ‘fraternal social contract’ of women’s exclusion and on the domestic patriarchal power they were given. And as the case with the Bulgarian history textbooks shows (as well as textbooks dealing with a new subject called ‘civic education’ recently added to the school curricula23) a cultural change should be made from social models where women are absent or are defined as ‘minors’, or mainly in relation to their reproductive capacities, to models in which they are defined as persons and individuals, entitled to take equal part in public institutions of modern society. Only then can one expect that representations and images of women in contemporary Bulgarian (and not only Bulgarian) textbooks would not essentialise and dehistoricise women, but help overcome the implicit misogynistic denial of women’s basic humanity. Then, and only then, will it no longer be necessary to struggle to define women’s rights as human rights. Then, and only then, women’s presence in the (local, central and all-European) bodies of political power – in municipal and parliamentary structures – will make a difference.

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Notes 1. In Katz (2001) there is just a word about women’s oral history sources, especially p. 65. Hanna Schissler is the only one to pose the question: ‘How are women portrayed? Do they play a role at all in “history” ’? See Schissler (2001: especially p. 95). 2. On the idea for helpdesks, see Sercu (1999). 3. Reported by the Croatian participants at the Helsinki workshop on women’s political participation in September 2003. 4. On this see: Stefanescu and Miroiu (2001). There is a chapter in English that summarises the results: see especially pp. 60–96. See also Miroiu (2003). 5. Stefanescu and Miroiu (2001: 60). 6. Ibid., p. 75. 7. At the beginning of the twentieth century Croce wrote that most historical writings pose the problems of their own time rather than of the epoch they are supposed to be studying. 8. Weber (1959) outlined the limits of the possibility of ‘a value-free scholarship’. See also Runciman (1978). 9. The terms ‘resisting reader’ and ‘resisting reading’ are due to Fetterleey (1978). 10. Sites of memory (‘lieux de mémoire’), according to Nora, are artificial and deliberately fabricated. They exist to help us reveal the past and ‘to block the work of forgetting’. He speaks about ‘the topographic’ (archives, libraries, museums), ‘memorial places’ (architectural memorials and cemeteries) and ‘symbolic’ sites of memory (as commemorations, pilgrimages, anniversaries, emblems) – all of them pretentiously universalistic, i.e. men-centred. See Nora (1989). 11. About the publication related to the history of women, gender and family in Bulgaria, see Daskalova (2002: 364–74). 12. On the ‘field’ of women’s/gender history, see Bock (1989: 7–30, especially p. 9). 13. Ida Blom has pointed out that one should keep in mind that, despite the idea of ‘gender-parallels’, state legislation and popular traditions are subordinated to male authority. See Blom (1991: 135–49, especially p. 140). 14. In another (already scholarly) publication, however, Raina Gavrilova claims that ‘public’ and ‘private’ are ‘imported’ terms that ‘meet the resistance’ of the local ‘historical reality’. See Gavrilova (2001: 98–107). 15. On this term, see Bourdieu (1977). 16. For a more recent analysis related to this topic, see Taylor Allen (1999). 17. In the other textbook considered here, no woman appears in the narrative about prehistory. Absence and silence are what one finds as alternatives. 18. On this, see Opitz (1992). 19. Here I refer to the subtitle of Volume II: A History of Women in the West, edited by Christiane Klapisch-Zuber (1992), Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. 20. On the symbolic power of language, see Bourdieu (1991). 21. See, for example, ‘Image de la femme dans les manuels scolaires’, and ‘Frauenbuild in Schulbuechern’, from the collections of the Historical Archive of the European University Institute-Florence, Italy. 22. Those metaphors were coined by Offen (2000).

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23. Probably it is suggestive to mention that the recently published textbook for the twelfth grade of the Bulgarian secondary schools, entitled ‘The World and the Individual’, which is supposed to give basic knowledge about society and its citizens, does not differentiate between women and men citizens but speaks in pretentiously non-gendered ‘universal’ terms that actually follow the old clichés claiming that to be a ‘woman’ or a ‘man’ is biologically predestined. See Grekova et al. (2002: especially pp. 112, 113 and 130). Speaking about the hierarchy of identities, its companion book (Deyanova et al., 2002) does not even mention that there are gender hierarchies in the contemporary societies (see especially pp. 21–3).

References Blom, I. (1991) ‘Global Women’s History: Organizing Principles and Cross-Cultural Understandings’, in K. Offen et al. (eds), Writing Women’s History: International Perspectives, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Bock, G. (1989) ‘Women’s History and Gender History: Aspects of an International Debate’, Gender & History, Vol. 1 (1): 7–30. Bock, G. (1991) ‘Challenging Dichotomies: Perspectives on Women’s History’, in K. Offen et al. (eds), Writing Women’s History: International Perspectives, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1977) Outline of a Theory of Practice, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1978) La Distinction: Critique social du jugement, Paris: Minuit. Bourdieu, P. (1991) Language & Symbolic Power, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Bourdieu, P. (1998) La Domination masculine, Paris: Seuil. Danova, N. (2001) ‘Bulgarskite uchebnitsi ot epochata na utvurzhdavane na natsionalnata identichnost I obrazut na “drugite” ’, in Da mislim drugoto. Obrazi, stereotipi, krizi, XVIII–XIX vek (Interpreting the Otherness: Images, Stereotypes, Crises, 18th–19th Centuries), Sofia: Kralitsa Mab, pp. 326–41. Daskalova, K. (2002) ‘Die Entwicklung der Frauengeschichte in Bulgarien’ in L’Homme. Zeitschrift für feministische Geschichtswissenschaft, 13 Jg. Heft 2, 364–74. Delev, P., Angelov, P., Bakalov, G., Todorova, T., Mitev, P., Trifonov, S., Baeva, I., Kalinova, E. and Vassileva, B. (1996) Istoria. Uchebnik za 11 klass (A History Textbook for the 11th Grade), Sofia: Otvoreno Obshtestvo. Deyanov, D. (ed.) (1995) Prenapisvaniata na novata bulgarska istoria v uchebnitsite za gimnaziite (Rewriting the New Bulgarian History in High School Textbooks), Sofia: MNP. Deyanova, L., Dichev, I., Kabakchieva, P., Kolev, K., Mineva, M. and Shikova, I. (2002) Sviat I lichnost. Uchebno pomagalo za 12 class (World and Individual in the United Europe for the 12th Grade), Sofia: Prosveta. Dragonas, T. and Frangoudaki, A. (2001) ‘The Persistence of Ethnocentric School History’, in C. Koulouri (ed.), Teaching the History of Southeastern Europe. Thessaloniki: Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeast Europe, pp. 37–47. Ferro, M. (1992) Kak razkaivayut istoriyu detiam v raznih stranah mira, Moskva: Visshaia shcola.

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Fetterleey, J. (1978) Resisting Reader: Feminist Approach to American Fiction, Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Gavrilova, R. (2001) ‘Mezhdu chastnoto I publichnoto: bulgarskite zheni prez XIX vek’ (Between Private and Public: Bulgarian Women during the Nineteenth Century), in K. Daskalova and R. Gavrilova (eds), Granitsi na Grazhdanstvoto: evropeiskite zheni mezhdu traditsiata I modernostta (Limits of Citizenship: European Women between Tradition and Modernity), Sofia: LIK, pp. 98–107. Georgoudi, S. (1992) ‘Creating a Myth of Matriarchy’, in P. Schmitt Pantel (ed.), A History of Women in the West. Vol. 1. From Ancient Goddesses to Christian Saints, Cambridge, MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, pp. 449–63. Giuzelev, V., Kossev, K., Lalkov, M. and Ognianov, L. (1996) Istoria. Uchebnik za 11 class na Srednoto Obshtoobrazovatelno Uchilishte (History. A Textbook for the 11th Grade), Sofia: Prosveta. Grekova, M., Deyanova, L., Dichev, L., Kabakchieva, P., Kolev, K. and Shikova, I. (2002) Sviat I lichnost. Uchebnik za 12 class (The World and the Individual for the 12th Grade), Sofia: Prosveta. Jenkins, K. (2003) Re-thinking History, London and New York: Routledge. Katz, V. (2001) ‘Workshops for the Future’, in C. Koulouri (ed.), Teaching the History of Southeastern Europe. Thessaloniki: Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeast Europe, pp. 61–7. Kiossev, A. (1995) ‘The Self-Colonizing Cultures’, in D. Ginev, Fr. Sejersted and K. Simeonova (eds), Cultural Aspects of the Modernization Process, Oslo: TMVSenteret, pp. 73–81. Koulouri, C. (ed.) (2001) Teaching the History of Southeastern Europe, Thessaloniki: Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeast Europe. Koulouri, C. (ed.) (2002) Clio in the Balkans. The Politics of History Education, Thessaloniki: Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeast Europe. Lacapra, D. (2000) History and Reading: Tocqueville, Foucault, French Studies, Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Miroiu, M. (2003) Guidelines for Promoting Gender Equality in Higher Education in Central and Eastern Europe, Bucharest: UNESCO-CEPES. Mutafchieva, V. and Gavrilova, R. (1996) Istoria. Uchebnik za 5 klas (History. A Textbook for Fifth Grade), Sofia: Prosveta. Nora, P. (1989) ‘Between Memory and History: Les Lieux de Mémoire [1984]’, Representations, 26: 7–25. Offen, K. (2000) European Feminisms, 1750–1950. A Political History, Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Okin, S. (1979) Women in Western Political Thought, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Opitz, C. (1992) ‘Life in the Late Middle Ages’, in C. Klapisch-Zuber (ed.), A History of Women in the West. Vol. II: Silences of the Middle Ages, Cambridge, MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, pp. 267–318. Petkanov, K. (1933) ‘Dushata na bulgarkata’, in Filosofski pregled, Vol. 5 (5), 385–93. Runciman, W. G. (ed.) (1978) Max Weber: Selections in Translation, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Schissler, H. (2001) ‘Beyond National Narratives. The Role of History Textbooks’, in C. Koulouri (ed.), Teaching the History of Southeastern Europe, Thessaloniki: Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in Southeast Europe.

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Sercu, L. (1999) National Helpdesks for Intercultural Learning Materials. A Guideline, Utrecht: Parel. Stefanescu, D.-O. and Miroiu, M. (eds) (2001) Gen si politici educatiuonale (Gendering Education in Romania), Bucaresti. Stojanovic, D. (2003) ‘Construction of Historical Consciousness. The Case of Serbian History Textbooks’, in M. Todorova (ed.), National Identities and National Memories in the Balkans, London: Hurst & Company, pp. 327–38. Taylor Allen, A. (1999) ‘Feminism, Social Science, and the Meaning of Modernity: The Debate on the Origin of the Family in Europe and the United States, 1840–1914’, The American Historical Review, Vol. 104 (4): 1085–113. Watson, P. (1993) ‘The Rise of Masculinism in Eastern Europe’, New Left Review, 198: 71–82. Weber, M. (1959) Wissenschaft als Beruf, Berlin: Duncker and Humbolt.

7 Strong Together? A Comparative Study of the Impact of the Women’s Movement on Policy-Making in Finland Anne Maria Holli

Introduction Securing women’s political rights has become increasingly prominent in international law and treaties on human rights. At the outset, starting from the United Nations Declaration of Human Rights in 1948, the focus was on ensuring women’s formal political citizenship rights only, that is, suffrage and formal eligibility for public office. Over time and as societies proved resistant to accepting women as fully-fledged political actors, the focus gradually shifted to emphasising women’s inclusion in all forms of decision-making, as well as incorporating gender equality considerations in all the levels and stages of policy-making (gender mainstreaming). The motivation is often that women’s increased participation is conceived as enhancing democracy. Paradoxically, however, as this chapter illustrates, democracy may also be an important precondition which helps realise the participation of women’s constituencies in public policy-making. It also shows that their inclusion indeed matters, as it tends to produce more satisfactory policy outcomes. This chapter explores the issue of women’s substantive representation by focusing on the impact of women’s movements on Finnish public policymaking since the late 1960s. The case study on Finland was completed as part of a larger international comparative project, the Research Network on Gender, Politics and the State (RNGS). My aim is to present a comprehensive analysis of the results on Finland, illustrating which women’s movement strategies and institutional mechanisms have contributed to Finnish women’s relatively high policy success. The analysis highlights the adaptation and interconnectedness of women’s movement strategies and 127

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activities to the political environment in which they function, showing how Finnish women have found openings for ‘critical acts’ (Dahlerup, 1988) to improve women’s status in society. The steady increase of women representatives in the legislature but also in other, related arenas, has added to Finnish women’s opportunities to deploy system characteristics for coalition-building and mutual strategic alliances (Halsaa, 1991). During the last fifteen years, this has also led to more institutionalised forms of cross-party co-operation for women’s party organisations and many joint campaigns by women Members of Parliament (MPs) in the parliamentary arena. At the same time, however, membership in the European Union (EU) and concurrent shifts towards supra-national decision-making arenas as well as other structural changes pose new challenges for Finnish women’s opportunities to influence policy-making (see e.g. Kantola in this volume). The chapter is structured as follows. It starts by presenting the background RNGS theoretical approach, followed by a description of its cross-cultural comparative results regarding opportunities and barriers for women’s policy success. After that, the results of an analysis of twelve Finnish policy debates are investigated, pointing out some specific patterns revealed by the Finnish data and reflecting on their significance.

Analysing women’s movement impact on public policy-making: the RNGS approach The concepts of descriptive and substantive representation and their relationship have been of major interest to feminist political studies (e.g. Jónasdóttir, 1988; Phillips, 1995; Young, 1990, 2000; Childs, 2004; see also Pitkin, 1967). Descriptive representation refers to the idea that political representatives are regarded as representing their electorate because of shared traits or a similar background, for example, gender, class or ethnicity. Substantive representation on the one hand refers to the ways in which, for example, women’s interests are advocated by their democratically elected representatives and are included in the formulation of public policies (Pitkin, 1967). These concepts are fundamentally linked with core questions in feminist politics: Does legislators’ gender affect their political activity and, if so, how? Do women MPs and other political actors represent ‘women’s interests’ (however these are defined) to any degree? Do women get what they want out of public policy-making when are they successful, and what are the barriers? What kinds of possibilities for social and political change are implied by women’s increased mobilisation and political presence?

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Interested especially in the links between descriptive and substantive representation, the Research Network on Gender, Politics and the State (RNGS),1 working since 1996, has developed a systematic, cross-cultural comparative approach to the study of the impact of the women’s movements and the role of state feminism in post-industrial democracies. In the RNGS approach, several strands of theory – democratic representation, new institutionalism and social movement theory – are combined with an analysis of gender and feminist politics. The focus of the study is the interaction between women’s movements and the state, hypothesising that women’s policy offices form a link between the two. The research project sets out to analyse the impact of women’s movements on public policies (dependent variable) and the role played by women’s policy agencies (intervening variable) in this process. Variations in the dependent and intervening variables are examined by two clusters of independent variables: women’s movement characteristics (stage, closeness to the Left, priority of issue, cohesion and strength of counter-movement) and the characteristics of the policy environment (characteristics of the policy sub-system, party or coalition in power and frame fit). The analysis applies the qualitative comparative method to an in-depth analysis of a small number of cases (see e.g. Ragin, 1987; King, Keohane and Verba, 1994). In the RNGS model, Gamson’s (1975) distinction between substantive and procedural responses by the state to social movement demands provides the basis for the study of movement impact. Substantive response refers to whether or not the state changes the substance of policy in order to meet the demands of the movements. Procedural response, on the other hand, refers to whether or not the state accepts the movement organisation as a legitimate representative of movement interests in the political process. By analysing the impact of the women’s movements in the framework of these two dimensions, the model sets up four possible outcomes for movement effect on public policy (Table 7.1). Dual response thus refers to a women’s movement success on both dimensions; no response to a failure on both accounts. The other two values (pre-emption and co-optation) are Table 7.1

Typology for movement impact/state response

Women involved in policy process

Yes No

Policy content coincides with women’s movement goals Yes

No

Dual response Pre-emption

Co-optation No response

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Typology for women’s policy agency

WPA genders policy debates

Yes No

WPA advocates women’s movement goals Yes

No

Insider Marginal

Non-feminist Symbolic

cases of partial movement success in regard to the substantive and procedural responses respectively. Women’s policy agency activities and characteristics are hypothesised as an intervening variable in the analytical framework. The role of these agencies is conceptualised on two dimensions: Is the women’s policy office an advocate of women’s movement goals or not in the policymaking process? Is it effective in gendering and changing the terms of the policy-making process to coincide with those of the women’s movements? Four possible types of women’s policy agency activity emerge from the typology: insider, marginal, non-feminist and symbolic, representing declining activism by the agency in the policy-making process under investigation (Table 7.2). Moreover, the characteristics of the agency are analysed as to its scope, type, proximity to power, resources, leadership and policy mandate. In sum, the RNGS project is interested in such questions as: Do women’s movements achieve what they want as far as public policy-making is concerned? When are their political initiatives successful? When do they fail? Is a state women’s policy machinery to mediate and aid women necessary if their efforts are to be successful in influencing policy-making? To provide answers to these questions, the project has systematically mapped the values for the targeted variables in the policy debates, seeking to distinguish favourable and unfavourable political opportunity structures from women’s points of view. As my aim is to concentrate on the results of the research with a special emphasis on women’s movement impact, I will limit the presentation of the methodology of this joint approach to pointing out some of its advantages to the study of women’s substantive representation and feminist comparative politics.2 First, in the RNGS approach the study of women’s movements is not confined to what could be called ‘feminist movements’ only. Rather, the model adopts a broader perspective on the concept, noting the various cultural

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expressions of both ‘feminism’ and ‘women’s movements’. This is achieved by targeting the participation and activity of women as individuals, groups, organisations, networks and women’s publics in so far as they claim to represent women or women’s interests in some manner in a given policy process. In this way, the project is able to take into account the variations in forms of women’s mobilisation in different countries and cultures, whether they be ‘feminist’, ‘traditional’ or even ‘anti-feminist’, and whether they are organised in autonomous movements, inside parties or institutions or, for example, as informal ad hoc networks or actions (RNGS, 2004). Second, in feminist studies it is quite common to be interested in laws, public policies and policy sectors initially thought of either as advantageous or disadvantageous to women. The question is whether this often implicit choice of subjects also affects the outcomes of research. Do we get too rosy a picture of women’s impact on public policies on the basis of studying, for example, the introduction of new gender equality legislation, where, as we know, women are bound to be very active? Or vice versa, is the resulting picture too negative, if we decide to limit our study to, for example, economic policy or foreign policy? The RNGS approach has tried to avoid this implicit bias, first, by selecting a wide range of policy sectors to study over time, and second, by utilising debate selection criteria which emphasise issue salience and the variety of debates in terms of the debate life cycle and decisional system importance (RNGS, 2004). Third, in the RNGS model, the unit of analysis is the policy debate instead of the more conventional choice of the country. Using this choice, the model allows for comparisons across the issues and policy areas, as well as for longitudinal studies on the women’s movements and their interactions with the state, in a national setting, for instance. The methodology makes any national differences between the countries a matter of empirical study, not an assumption that is inherent in the model (see also Mazur and Parry, 1998). Finally, during the process the project has gathered rich qualitative data on the policy debates, which is a source for further ideas and new approaches. The careful groundwork done by individual researchers facilitates the construction of new hypotheses about women’s policy influence, and makes it possible to test them empirically. It also provides a plateau for diversifying the analyses theoretically and methodologically in new directions. For example, the overall results achieved by the RNGS project are in the process of being converted to a quantitative data set, which makes it possible to use statistical methods to assert causal patterns in the service of theory-building. There also exist alternative, more qualitative attempts at building on the work done so far.

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When and where do women’s movements succeed? Results of the cross-cultural comparative analysis So far, the RNGS project has completed its results on four policy areas: job training (Mazur, 2001c), abortion politics (Stetson, 2001c), prostitution policies (Outshoorn, 2004c) and political representation (Lovenduski et al., 2005b), with the remaining analyses due to be published over the next few years. For the time being, the published data include analyses of 122 policy debates over time from 15 post-industrial democracies and the EU. Across the policy sectors, women’s movements achieved full policy satisfaction (dual response impact) in 48 per cent of the debates in the terms of the approach whereas they faced total failure (no response impact) in 21 per cent of them (Mazur, 2001b; Stetson, 2001b; Outshoorn, 2004b; Lovenduski et al., 2005a). The remaining 31 per cent of partial outcomes consisted of 21 per cent of co-optation impacts (no policy satisfaction despite women’s involvement) and 10 per cent pre-emptive outcomes (authorities adopting women’s movement demands fully or partly without women’s involvement and access to the policy process). Thus, in sum, women’s movement concerns were inserted in public policies in six cases out of ten (dual response and pre-emption outcomes combined). The results also illustrate that women’s and women’s movement involvement in the process achieved a satisfactory outcome five times more often than when they were excluded from it. Nevertheless, even when women were included as active participants in the process, in two cases out of ten for some reason they failed to achieve policy satisfaction. These overall results from the RNGS project suggest a slightly more pessimistic – but nevertheless quite remarkable – evaluation of women’s potential to influence public policy-making than Mazur’s (2002) comparative cross-cultural analysis of public policies. There she, utilising a different method for evaluating policy success and secondary sources on policy debates, found a much higher feminist policy success rate, few low success cases and no total policy failures at all. One of the main observations of the RNGS project is that different policy sectors seem to offer very different political opportunity structures from women’s points of view (cf. also Mazur, 2002: 184–5). Whereas in job training full policy success (dual response impact) was achieved in only 28 per cent of the debates, in abortion policy, prostitution policy and debates on political representation the success rate was over 50 per cent (57 per cent, 53 per cent and 52 per cent respectively). The policy failure rate (no response impact) suggests something similar: in job training policy women failed to obtain any response in 48 per cent of the

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debates. In abortion policies the failure rate was only 7 per cent; in prostitution 17 per cent; and in political representation 15 per cent (Mazur, 2001b; Stetson, 2001b; Outshoorn, 2004b; Lovenduski et al., 2005a). Out of this range, job training was thus the most hostile to women’s demands, abortion policy the most accommodating. In their comparative analyses concerning the individual policy sectors, Mazur (2001b), Stetson (2001b), Outshoorn (2004b) and Lovenduski et al. (2005a) conclude that the independent variables – the characteristics of women’s movements and the policy environment – seem to play a decisive role on women’s impact. The probability of women’s policy success is higher when: • the policy sub-system in question is moderately closed or open3 in character; • the Left is in power; • the women’s movement which is mobilised by the debate is close to the Left, the issue is of high priority to the movement, and the various strands of women’s movements are unified on the issue.4 In contrast, the likelihood of policy failure for women’s movements is highest when the policy-making sub-system is closed and the Left is not in power (Mazur, 2001; Stetson, 2001b). Although the same variables appear important to all the policy sectors studied, there are some variations in their relative weight. For example, Mazur (2001b), Outshoorn (2004b: 288) and Lovenduski et al. (2005a) stress the crucial significance of policy environment characteristics in the areas of job training, prostitution and political representation. By contrast, Stetson (2001b: 286) claims a prioritised role for women’s movement characteristics in abortion policy. The varying emphasis seems to reflect the in-built differences between opportunity structures in those different policy sectors, as well as the distance of a policy issue being a ‘women’s issue’ in the first place. The RNGS studies also conclude that women’s policy offices constitute effective links between women’s movements and the state. Women’s movements have tended to be more successful where state structures for women’s policy have acted as insiders in the policy-making process, that is, they have gendered policy debates in ways that have coincided with women’s movement goals. By contrast, the movements have been less successful when women’s policy agencies have played some other role, whether it be marginal, non-feminist or symbolic. Together, these results make for a strong argument for the important role played by state feminism

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Anne Maria Holli Table 7.3 Country comparison by dual response/no response impact across policy sectors Country

Dual response

No response

Finland (N ⫽ 125) Italy (N ⫽ 11) USA (N ⫽ 12) Canada (N ⫽ 9) Spain (N ⫽ 11) France (N ⫽ 14)

58% 55% 50% 44% 36% 29%

25% 18% 33% 11% 27% 43%

Average (all RNGS data N ⫽ 122)

48%

21%

in aiding women’s demands in public policy-making (Mazur, 2001b; Stetson, 2001b; Outshoorn, 2004b; Lovenduski et al., 2005a). The RNGS has so far focused on policy sectors. In this framework, national patterns are not easy to discern because of the low number of debates studied within each single country. Consequently, the RNGS analyses have not found much evidence on nation-state patterns for policy outcome (Mazur, 2001b: 316–17; Stetson, 2001b: 292–4; Outshoorn, 2004b: 289–90; Lovenduski et al., 2005a). However, as the project is evolving and completing its database, it also becomes possible to investigate the question of country-specific patterns more closely. Table 7.3 presents data contrasting full policy success and full policy failure in a set of countries analysed by the RNGS. The presentation is limited to the countries where, first, job training was analysed, and second, where there were about ten policy debates studied in the country. The aim of the first restriction is to ensure that the sample of the debates in the country not only concerned the more ‘women-friendly’ policy sectors but had a sufficient span over differing sectors. The aim of the second limitation is to ensure that there were enough policy debates studied across the sectors in the country to lend some reliability to tentative conclusions. Finland tops this list of nation-states with slightly more women’s full policy success than the average, followed by Italy, the United States and Canada. At the other end of the spectrum, Spain and France appear relatively unresponsive to women’s movement demands; in particular, the failure rate in France is high when compared with the overall average.6 The results – with the notable exception of Italy7 – broadly coincide with what we would expect on the basis of earlier comparative studies (see e.g. Norris, 1987; Sainsbury, 1994; Stetson and Mazur, 1995; Bacchi, 1996; Mazur, 2002: 188–9; Inglehart and Norris, 2003). However, the results also clearly illustrate that there is no straightforward relation between the proportion of women’s political representation

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and their policy success. In Finland, the proportion of women MPs has been very high for a long time (in 2005, 37.5 per cent), combined with high policy success. The United States (14.9 per cent), despite its very active women’s movement, does not even reach the world average (15.8 per cent) in women MPs but displays a relatively high level of women’s policy success nevertheless. In France the low number of women MPs (12.2 per cent) and women’s low policy success seem to go hand in hand (Interparliamentary Union webpages).8 These observations clearly point to some conclusions. First, the relationship between women’s descriptive (understood in its simplest form as the number of women MPs) and substantive representation (women’s movement policy success) is neither straightforward nor simple. Earlier research has illustrated that not all women are equally pro-equality or interested in acting for women; for example, left-wing men often tend to score better on scales of ‘women-friendliness’ than right-wing women, although the latter tend to be invariably ‘more women-friendly’ than their male party colleagues. Tremblay and Pelletier (2000) note that feminist consciousness is more significant than gender as such for the support for liberal and genderrelated issues in Canada. They remark pointedly that electing feminists into office seems to be a much more efficient strategy on ensuring ‘womenfriendly’ policy outputs than paying attention to gender only. The results of this country comparison indicate that, in addition to women’s political representation, the mobilisation potential of women’s constituencies and the responsiveness of the political and institutional settings in which they function are crucial in explaining national variations in women’s policy success. However, the combinations of variables producing this effect may vary vastly between individual countries. For example, a highly favourable and responsive institutional setting might combine with a weak women’s movement mobilisation in one country to produce successful policy outputs, whereas in another country the success can be a result of high rates of both state responsiveness and women’s mobilisation. To be able to analyse and understand these patterns better, we will next have a look at a specific combination of variables in a specific national context, that is, Finland.

When and how do women’s movements succeed in Finland? Results of a country analysis Context We have already seen that in terms of the RNGS model, Finnish women’s movements appear highly successful in their ability to reach

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policy satisfaction across policy sectors. Before going into a detailed analysis of the Finnish RNGS results, I will render a background description, illustrating that many of the crucial structural features highlighted both by the RNGS and other studies exist as part of the Finnish political context. First, Finland is a prosperous, stable parliamentary democracy and a Protestant country with evidence of both secularisation and the shift towards postmaterialist values (Inglehart and Norris, 2003). Since the early 1980s, Finnish women have in average been better educated than men. They also continue working full-time even after marriage and having small children, which is internationally quite exceptional (see also Siaroff, 1994). Previous studies have shown that all these features are significant either for a high political participation level or a high support for egalitarian attitudes (Hayes, McAllister and Studlar, 2000; Inglehart and Norris, 2003). The former is illustrated by the fact that Finnish women have been more active voters than Finnish men in all the elections held since 1983. The latter translates into a very high support for normative gender equality in national and international surveys (Haavio-Mannila, 1986; Melkas, 1999, 2001, 2004; Inglehart and Norris, 2003), with women consistently more aware of remaining inequalities. Second, in a framework of an open-list proportional electoral system with multi-member constituencies, mandatory preferential voting and quite strong voter preferences for own gender, Finnish women’s representation in the legislature has traditionally been among the highest in the world. It was already 21.5 per cent (and consequently much higher than in most countries even today) 34 years ago, in 1971, the time when the first of the parliamentary debates analysed in this study took place. Women’s political representation increased slowly and steadily at both the national and local level since the Second World War, with no sudden electoral victories or major downfalls. The gradual development makes it difficult for the researcher to discern relations between the proportion of women and their policy impact. However, with a longer timespan to study, as is the case here, the more implicit patterns also become clearer. Third, Finland is a very legalistic society and the nature of political processes tends to be quite open and to facilitate policy deliberation and access. Policy proposals are typically prepared in political or administrative committees that often include representatives of political parties, governmental bodies and interest groups. The committees also obtain expert statements from various institutions and interest groups. Finished proposals are sent to a remittal process to different state authorities and interest organisations. The government, responsible for the final bill, is a

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coalition of several political parties, which makes it necessary to negotiate between different interests. When a bill is sent to Parliament, it is submitted to a parliamentary standing committee, which checks the bill once more, and takes into consideration expert witnesses. Finally, Parliament makes any last-minute adjustments and the final decision on the bill at its sittings. In all of these policy stages, a public debate about the bill may affect the viewpoints of the participants on necessary amendments and lead to the inclusion of new interests. In principle, although not always in practice (see Holli, 2003: 162), these deliberative structures also offer many openings for Finnish women’s constituencies to obtain a descriptive or substantive representation of their interests. Fourth, both the RNGS study and other previous research suggested that left-wing parties tend to be more ‘women-friendly’ than right-wing parties. They tend to have more women as candidates and elected representatives than the right-wing ones and they have also been more willing to include gender-related rules, such as internal or electoral quotas, in their structures (Caul, 1999). In her comparative study of Western industrialised democracies, Norris (1987) found that left-wing power had contributed to the decrease of the horizontal and vertical segregation of the labour market, whereas right-wing power tended to increase it. Hence, Norris’s conclusion was that politics – and party power – do matter to women. With regard to Finland, the relatively strong position of the Left, especially the Social Democratic Party (which has been in government with few interruptions since 1966), is an important favourable factor. Fifth, we have to consider the country-specific characteristics of Finnish women’s movements. From a comparative perspective, international second wave feminism emerged late (1973–7) and then in a weak form in Finland (Bergman, 1999, 2002). Finnish women’s movements have also been considered to display clear integrationist tendencies in a field strongly divided by the traditional Left/Right division. Working through established political channels and structures has been seen as characteristic to Finnish (and other Nordic) feminism (Gustafsson et al., 1997; Bergman, 1999). In Finland, women’s party sections (party feminism) have played a central role in public policy-making, with a parallel moderate feminist grass-roots movement which has seldom resorted to radical strategies or mobilised politically to a significant degree. Women’s party sections have been considered to be relatively independent organisationally and financially (Haavio-Mannila et al., 1985; see also Christensen, 1999). Over the years all of them more or less integrated into their agendas the feminist ideas advocated, first, by the home-grown sex role movement

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Association 9 (1966–70) and later by radical feminist groups and academic feminism (Nupponen, 1969; Alanen, 1981; Jallinoja, 1983; Holli, 1988; Katainen, 1994; Lähteenmäki, 2000). Feminist influence has nevertheless been most prominent in the ideology and demands expressed by the left-wing women’s party sections (see also Westman, 2000: 288–96; Carbin and Holli, 2002; cf. Siukola, 2004). From the late 1980s onwards, there has been visible a new trend to establish and institutionalise women’s co-operative activities across party and organisational lines in Finland (Bergman, 1999). This can be regarded internationally as extremely rare. The new trend was first apparent in the establishment of NYTKIS, the Coalition of Finnish Women’s Associations for Joint Action in 1988. It consists of all the women’s party sections, the Central League of Finnish Women’s Organisations, the League of Finnish Feminists and the academic Society for Women’s Studies. Their joint membership is more than 600,000 persons, i.e. over 20 per cent of the female population of Finland. Initially, NYTKIS acted as an informal co-operative network, but decided however to organise formally in the early 2000s. From the very beginning, NYTKIS adopted some radical feminist organisational principles, such as the rotation of leadership and consensus-oriented decision-making procedures, as its organisation model. Its aim is to promote women’s political participation and gender equality in Finland, lobbying political parties, the government and the parliament in specific issues for this goal. In 1991 NYTKIS was followed by another women’s cross-party alliance when women MPs decided to establish a network of their own within the parliament in the aftermath of the world-record high in women MPs and a simultaneous shift in governmental power to a centre-right coalition. Acting as an unofficial parliamentary standing committee, the Network investigates and lobbies for issues considered as important to all women regardless of party affiliation within the parliament (Ramstedt-Silén, 1999). The women MPs’ Network has also been regarded as relatively successful in inserting women’s joint concerns in public policies (RamstedtSilén, 1999; Aalto, 2003; Holli, 2004; Lejonqvist-Jurvanen, 2004; Aalto and Holli, 2005; Holli and Kantola, 2005), however, the party political division between women MPs poses the major problem for the cohesion and effectiveness of women’s joint endeavours (Lejonqvist-Jurvanen, 2004). In conclusion, in Finland many of the features (democracy, prosperity, a high level of egalitarianism, women’s high socio-economic status, high level of women’s representation) regarded as beneficial for women’s political participation are in place. In particular, two of the structural

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factors (left-wing power and moderately closed/open policy sub-systems) evaluated by the RNGS as crucial to women’s policy success tend to be available per se as part of the Finnish contextual framework. On the other hand, the integrationist character of Finnish women’s movements and the prominence of party feminism can be regarded – depending on one’s viewpoint – either as a strength or as a weakness (cf. also Gelb, 1989). The model provides easier policy access, but it also entails the real danger of deradicalisation of women’s movement demands. As I have noted elsewhere (Holli, 2001; Holli, 2003: 164–5), this model also seems to make the articulation of gendered interests by women’s party sections very much dependent on the larger political situation. This is important also for understanding the patterns of women’s impact on Finnish policymaking, as the next section will show in more detail. Patterns of women’s policy impact in Finland The Finnish RNGS data include twelve policy debates from four policy areas: job training, prostitution, political representation and childcare policies (Holli, 2001, 2004; Aalto, 2003; Aalto and Holli, 2005; Holli and Kantola, 2005). The sectors include both those considered to have a high feminist success rate (political representation) to those with a medium and low feminist success rate (job training policy) (Mazur, 2002). Notably, the Finnish data do not include any debates on abortion policy, which proved to be the most accessible policy sector from the women’s movement point of view in the RNGS comparison (Stetson, 2001b; cf. Mazur, 2002, 184–5). Instead, the Finnish data include two debates on childcare policy, which, according to Mazur (2002: 184–5), cross-culturally has appeared as the policy sector with the lowest feminist policy success rate. Consequently, the data on Finland are more slanted to low success policy sectors than the RNGS average. The Finnish data were gathered by following the RNGS criteria strictly in order to include representative debates and with an explicit aim to avoid the temptation to include at the outset ‘feminist successes’. In the early stages of the project, the Finnish data were gathered and analysed by one researcher only, that is, myself. In the later stages of the project, a team of researchers (Johanna Kantola and Terhi Aalto) co-operated in the data collection and analysis. At both stages, extreme care was placed, on the one hand, to guarantee that the same criteria of debate selection and analysis were applied to all the policy debates, and, on the other, to retain a detailed knowledge of the qualitative richness of the data. The homogeneity of the Finnish data in this respect can be regarded as enhancing the validity and reliability of the results.

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Table 7.4

Summary of the results for Finland by date of end of decision

Policy outcome

Women’s movement impact/state response

1970s Employment Act 1971 Adult Further Training Act 1975 Change in Electoral Law 1975

Dual response No response No response

1980s The repeal of the Vagrant Act 1986 Gender Quotas in SKDL 1987* Employment Act 1987

Dual response Dual response Dual response

1990s Labour Market Subsidy Act 1993 Day Care Act 1994 Gender Quotas in the Equality Act 1995 Subsidies for Home Care of Children 1995 The Sex Crime Act 1998 The Helsinki Municipal Ordinance 1999**

No response Dual response Dual response Co-optation Dual response Co-optation

* Debate took place inside a political party and thus deviates from the majority of debates which took place at the national level. ** Debate took place at the local level and thus deviates from the majority of debates which took place at the national level.

In the following presentation, I will focus on two aspects: temporal change and the variables explaining patterns of women’s policy success. In order to be able to analyse the emerging patterns in more detail, I will draw on both context and qualitative data. The debates investigated a thirty-year period, that is, 1969–99 (see Table 7.4). It is also the period since the rise of second-wave feminism and the establishment of a governmental women’s policy machinery in the country. It covered the various stages in the development of women’s movements and feminism, from a growth period during the 1970s and 1980s to a consolidation in the 1990s. It was also during this period that the Social Democratic, ‘women-friendly’ Finnish welfare state was established in the 1970s, expanded in the 1980s and gradually streamlined during its reconfiguration phase in the aftermath of the 1990s economic recession. A longitudinal comparison of the Finnish debates suggests that women’s movements seldom succeeded in placing their concerns into public policies in the 1970s, consistently did so in the 1980s, and continued to be quite successful in their policy aims during the 1990s, although with more variation as to policy outcome (Table 7.4). This

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interpretation corresponds to the stage of overall feminist activism and the phase of welfare state evolvement, which both were at a peak during the 1980s in Finland. It also corresponds to the existence of a ‘critical mass’ of women MPs (over 30 per cent) since 1983 in the parliamentary arena (cf. Holli, 2003: 162–3). Table 7.5 presents the Finnish results on the crucial RNGS variables: policy environment characteristics, women’s movement characteristics and women’s policy agency activities. Three different patterns emerge in the analysis, each explaining a specific policy outcome. First, in Finland, women seemed to be successful in their policy demands (dual response) when they just managed to mobilise in a sufficient degree in a moderately closed policy sub-system framework.9 The prerequisites to sufficient mobilisation included the active participation of left-wing women’s political organisations, cohesiveness of movements (different strands of women’s movements were not openly in dissension about the proposal or issue) and a high priority issue. Left-wing power in government contributed to favourable outcome, but from the 1990s onwards, did not seem necessary for it. The same applies to the role of women’s policy agencies, which appear extremely effective, but since the 1990s no longer necessary for successful policy outcome. Before, Finnish women’s policy successes were invariably accompanied by state equality agencies playing an insider role in the policy processes (Table 7.5). The important exception of the 1990s was the debate about the Day Care Act 1994, where the women’s policy offices remained totally symbolic. Instead, the watchdog’s role was now taken up by the Women MPs’ Network in Parliament, illustrating the new significance of the latter. The activity of women’s new institutionalised cross-party co-operation structures was prominent in most of the 1990s debates (see Aalto, 2003; Holli, 2001, 2003, 2004; Aalto and Holli, 2005; Holli and Kantola, 2005). The significance of left-wing power and support for women’s substantive representation went further than the clear-cut division of governmental and parliamentary power which was the variable systematically targeted by the RNGS model. Notably, some degree of left-wing support for women’s demands was distinctive to all of the Finnish women’s policy successes investigated by this study, regardless of whether the Left was in power or not. However, the latter condition was only realised between 1991 and 1995 when there was a right-wing government in the country. During this period, many important policy debates took place that mobilised women’s movements against the governmental line. For example, the subjective right to municipal day care for pre-school children (Day Care Act 1994) and a new gender quota paragraph in

Table 7.5

Variables explaining the impact of the women’s movement in Finland Policy environment: policy sub-system characteristics

Policy environment: Left in power

Women’s movement closeness to Left

Women’s movement issue priority

Women’s movement cohesiveness

Women’s policy agency activities

Women’s movement impact/state response

Moderately closed Moderately closed

Yes Yes

Close Close

High Low

Cohesive Cohesive

Insider Insider

Dual response Dual response

Closed

Yes

Close

High

Cohesive

Symbolic

Dual response

Moderately closed Moderately closed

Yes No

Close Close

High High

Insider Symbolic

Dual response Dual response

Gender Quotas in the Equality Act 1995

Moderately closed

No

Close

High

Cohesive Cohesive (dividing) Cohesive

Dual response

The Sex Crime Act 1998

Moderately closed

Yes

Close

High

Cohesive

Insider Nonfeminist Insider

Policy outcome

Policy success (dual response) Employment Act 1971 The repeal of the Vagrant Act 1986 Gender Quotas in SKDL 1987* Employment Act 1987 Day Care Act 1994

Dual response

Partial outcome (co-optation) Subsidies for Home Care of Children 1995 The Helsinki Municipal Ordinance 1999** Policy failure (no response) Change in Electoral Law 1975 Adult Further Training Act 1975 Labour Market Subsidy Act 1993

Moderately closed

Yes

Not Close

High

Divided

Symbolic

Co-optation

Moderately closed

No

Not Close

High

Cohesive

Symbolic

Co-optation

Moderately closed

Yes

Close

Low

Cohesive

Symbolic

No response

Closed

Yes

Close

Low

Divided

Symbolic

No response

Closed

No

Close

Low

Divided

Symbolic

No response

* Debate took place within a political party and thus deviates from the majority of debates which took place at the national level. ** Debate took place at the municipal level and thus deviates from the majority of debates which took place at the national level.

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the Equality Act 1995 were achieved by women’s active pressure politics in spite of the right-wing government’s resistance. The mechanisms for women’s policy success in these debates included women MPs allying across the right-left division, and forming a winning coalition in Parliament with the opposition left-wing male MPs. This factor also makes clear why it was important to include the leftwing women’s organisations in Finnish women’s mobilising efforts in order to gain results. First, since they have been more influenced by feminist thought than the right-wing ones, they were more prone to act as starting motors in furthering women’s interests in public policy-making. Second, they almost invariably succeeded in securing both considerable party support and male votes (often in toto) from their own ranks for their demands in the parliament. The analysis of the Finnish overall data also showed that right-wing women’s party organisations did not obtain similar support from their own party groups and male colleagues when they did mobilise on an issue. This also provides the key for the second set of policy outcomes, namely those of co-optation. When right-wing women mobilised on an issue by themselves, without managing to recruit the left-wing women actively (because of, for example, different or conflicting priorities or left-wing disinterest) they were bound to be disappointed at the outcome. This seemed to occur despite otherwise favourable policy environment characteristics.10 Nor were there insider women’s policy agencies lending their support to right-wing women’s demands. From a more comprehensive perspective, almost all of the Finnish policy debates investigated over time witnessed right-wing resistance (especially men’s) towards the women’s movement demands, regardless of topic or policy sector. From this perspective, it is extremely interesting to observe the emerging gap between right-wing women and men during the 1990s as right-wing women started to mobilise on gender grounds and even to shift their allegiance from party to gender on several crucial occasions (see above; cf. also Siukola, 2004). The third set of policy outcomes were the total failures (no response) in terms of the RNGS model. By contrast to the successes, then, the policy subsystem was more often closed, and there were definite problems in women’s movement mobilisation (low priority of issue and the divided character of the movement). Nor was there any insider support by women’s policy agencies. What is most significant, though, is that Finnish women’s movements did not offer gendered opinions on the issues or attempt to gender policymaking. Consequently, women’s policy failure in the Finnish context mainly seems to correspond to the failing ability or willingness of women’s

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movements to analyse the issue from a gender perspective or to articulate gendered concerns in a specific policy debate. Why and when did women’s constituencies not offer gendered analyses of the issue – or if they did, why did they keep silent in public? The failures took place either in the policy sectors concerning economics (job training) or political representation (electoral law), and thus core issues from the point of view of the conventional left/right party division and interests. All three policy failures also occurred in political or economic national crisis situations (Holli, 2001, 2003; cf. Räsänen, 1984), and in periods or specific debates displaying quite exacerbated left/right conflicts. It is also there that we find the explanation for the passivity of women’s movements, i.e. its predominant form as party feminism. The party women’s opportunities for standing as women and acting for them were then very much restricted by their role as party representatives, too (see also Childs, 2004). The Labour Market Subsidy Act 1993 illustrates well the mechanism of silence produced by party political imperatives. The right-wing government proposed a bill, which quite incidentally included remedies to some major problems in married women’s unemployment benefits – a fact that the government did not even notice. In that process, there were indications that the whole of the left-wing – women included – were aware of the gendered implications of the proposed reform all along, but refrained from bringing them up. As the left-wing parties objected to the right-wing government’s ‘incorrect formulation’ of the Labour Market Subsidy Bill in its totality, they did not want to give it any ammunition by pointing out the positive consequences of the reform for women. This was brought up only after the left-wing had finally lost the battle against the reform. This example shows clearly how party political concerns may prevent women from gendering policy debates in Finland. Thus, my analysis suggests women’s movement characteristics being the crucial explanatory set of variables for Finnish women’s policy success or failure. Policy environment characteristics (open/closed character of the sub-system, left in power) play an important role for policy outcome, but also, in the final analysis, some other characteristics of the specific policy debates (notably, political/economic crisis situation, degree of party conflict) might be equally significant, as they seem to shape the opportunities and barriers for Finnish-type integrationist feminism to be able to mobilise on gender grounds. As already mentioned, before the 1990s successful women’s movement mobilisation invariably coincided with the insider activity of a women’s policy agency. Elsewhere (Holli, 2002; 2003: 165) I have suggested that

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this can be understood via the idea of ‘strategic partnerships’ (Halsaa, 1991; see also Mazur, 2002: 190–1), referring to the way in which various elements of women’s movements mobilise and co-operate on specific issues and pragmatic problems. Finnish state equality agencies have been integral partners in such alliances, which have also always included women MPs and often women working in the state bureaucracy. Sometimes the women’s policy agencies initiated the formation of such partnerships by offering a gendered analysis of a specific social problem; sometimes they were mobilised along as an issue was brought up by others. Last but not least, between 1972 and 1986, then the sole women’s policy agency, the Council for Equality between Women and Men, was organised as a composite of all political parties, that is, it was made up mainly by party women. The Council provided a forum for seeking out common interests. Notably, the empirical data indicate strongly that if the women’s party sections were divided on an issue, so was the Council, with no policy line for it to pursue in the debate. From the second half of the 1980s onwards, there was a series of significant changes affecting the status of women’s policy offices and especially their position in women’s strategic partnerships. First, their number proliferated from one to three, as the Equality Ombudsman’s Office was established in 1987 and a Ministerial Gender Equality Unit (for the preparation of governmental gender equality policy) in 2001. Their mandate and contacts with women’s organisations were by the nature of their activities more limited. Simultaneously, there were constant administrative re-organisation efforts and diminishing resources, which affected especially the status of the previously influential Council for Equality. Its possibilities of investigating gender equality problems and proposing reforms are in practice barred by the fact that its personnel today consists of a General Secretary, and some part-time or hourly-paid secretaries for topical working groups. Also the politically nominated council shifted character in the mid-1990s, as it became a gender balanced (40–60 per cent) body of women and men as decreed by the Quota Law of 1995, and no longer a party women’s meeting ground. Finnish EU membership from 1995 affected the activity of all the Finnish women’s policy agencies as their work turned towards implementing EU directives and guidelines in the national framework and participating in the technical preparation of EU gender equality reforms both in national and EU arenas. In a context of scarce personnel resources, this considerably shifted the focus of gender equality policies. Zwingel (2005) has shown how the 1979 United Nations CEDAW convention was deployed maximally by Finnish women’s movements and the Council for

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Equality in the 1980s and 1990s to initiate domestic gender equality reforms. She surmises that EU policies may have assumed a similar transformative significance for Finnish national policies. Kantola’s (2004) study of the impact of EU discourses on violence against women for Finland points towards a similar conclusion. However, the multiple and possibly contradictory gendered impacts of Europeanisation on Finnish policy-making, women’s movements and state feminism remain still very much uninvestigated. This analysis of Finland points to the conclusion that the new women’s institutionalised cross-party co-operative structures (NYTKIS, Women MPs’ Network in Parliament) have partly come to replace the formerly indispensable – but now diminished – role played by women’s policy offices in women’s strategic partnerships. They provide the new platforms for seeking out common interests and building coalitions for women’s joint action in a context of politically divided feminism. Such alternative coalition-building by women is made possible because there are structural openings for it in the Finnish political system. For example, individual MPs are less dependent on their party (for re-election, for instance, because of the open list PR system) and parliamentary party discipline tends to be less restraining than in some other countries. The strengthening of women’s cross-party co-operation can be regarded as the answer offered by women’s organisations to the structural changes (shift of power to the right-wing, a deep economic recession and welfare state retrenchment, partly closing opportunity structures and the diminishing role of women’s policy agencies) that posed new threats both to women’s status and their possibilities to influence policy-making in Finland in the 1990s.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have presented the results of a RNGS analysis of twelve Finnish policy debates from 1969 to 1999. The analysis illustrated that in Finland women’s movements have been quite successful in achieving policy satisfaction. A comparison of the cross-cultural RNGS results and Finnish results both point to similar conclusions, namely the significance of policy environment characteristics, women’s movement characteristics and the existence of an insider women’s policy agency. However, the country-specific analysis of the Finnish debates over time makes this interpretation more nuanced and partly modifies it for Finland. Some policy environment characteristics (relative openness of policy sub-systems and left-wing power) regarded by the RNGS to contribute to women’s movement impact tend to exist as structural features of the

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Finnish political context. Women’s policy impact followed three different patterns there, my analysis highlighting the pertinence of women’s movement characteristics for policy outcome. Over time, there occurred definite changes in both movement strategies and the patterns of women’s policy influence. For example, during the 1990s a split between right-wing women and men in their concern for gender became visible. Women’s joint action over party lines increased in parliament and the co-operation acquired institutionalised forms which served partly similar functions in women’s strategic partnerships than women’s policy offices did earlier on. This observation gives a new slant to some of the insights offered by the RNGS project: certainly, specialised women’s policy agencies are very effective in aiding women’s movements achieve policy satisfaction, but there also exist alternative roads towards that objective. This chapter also pinpoints many of the difficulties and barriers that Finnish-type integrationist, politically divided women’s movements face in their struggle between gender and party concerns. It shows how they have nevertheless managed strategically to deploy the openings of the political system to make workable strategies and initiate reforms. Despite new problems, the abilities of Finnish women’s movements to gender policy debates seem actually to have increased over time and especially during the 1990s, which, as the logic of my analysis suggests, gives good prospects for their continued success in public policy-making.

Notes 1. The project consists of over 40 country specialists studying 15 countries in Europe and North America as well as the supra-national decision-making of the European Union. 2. For more information about the methodological choices, see RNGS (2004); Mazur (2001a); Stetson (2001a); Outshoorn (2004a); Lovenduski (2005); Mazur and Parry (1998). 3. Building from the concept of iron triangles and taking Heclo’s (1978) notion of issue networks into consideration, the RNGS model conceptualises different types of policy sub-systems along a continuum, with ‘open sub-systems’ (amorphous networks, wide participation of actors, no clear chain of command), ‘moderately closed sub-systems’ (organisation more clearly defined, several actors trying to dominate), and ‘closed sub-systems’ (participation limited, one major set of actors controls policy space and the parameters of the arena). 4. Moreover, the RNGS study also points out that policy success is more likely when the movement frames the issue in matching or compatible terms with those utilised in the dominant discourse of the policy sub-system. However, this factor will be excluded from my analysis in this article.

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5. The Finnish data include the published case studies on policy debates (see Holli, 2001, 2004; Holli and Kantola, 2005) as well as the data gathered by Aalto (2003) for her thesis on child care policies. 6. However, the methodological problems inherent in doing joint comparative analysis across cultures must be taken into account when considering the reliability of these results. The relatively small number of individual country cases, possible bias (for example, towards ‘women’s successes’ in the selection process or selecting debates that were at the outset gendered) in debate selection, the different number of debates selected from different policy sectors and the overall composition of policy sectors studied, or individual different ways of interpreting the common research criteria in spite of efforts to avoid exactly that, all affect the reliability of results especially at country comparison level. 7. The high women’s policy impact by Italy in this classification is somewhat surprising and needs closer investigation, as it deviates from the results of related studies (e.g. Stetson and Mazur, 1995; Hayes, McAllister and Studlar, 2000; Mazur, 2002). 8. If we were to take into account the other countries where fewer policy debates on fewer sectors have been studied, especially Sweden and the Netherlands emerge as particularly responsive to women’s demands (with their dual response rate 83 per cent and 78 per cent respectively), followed by Austria (67 per cent) and Great Britain (56 per cent). The same discrepancy between women’s political representation and policy success comes again forth: whereas Sweden (45.3 per cent) and the Netherlands (36.7 per cent) appear successful on both accounts, for example the United Kingdom combines a relative high policy success by women with a low number, only 17.8 per cent, of women MPs (2005) (Interparliamentary Union webpages). 9. I exclude the debate concerning Gender Quotas in SKDL 1987 from this explanation since it took place within the extreme left-wing party (closed policy sub-system) which also made the debate remain outside the mandate of the women’s policy agencies by prevalent definitions of possibility of state intervention and internal party democracy. 10. However, there was only one debate in the data combining right-wing power with right-wing women’s mobilisation (Helsinki Municipal Ordinance, 1999) in a moderately closed policy sub-system, which can be regarded as the most accessible policy environment for right-wing women.

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Unpublished Master’s thesis, Department of Political Science, University of Helsinki. Holli, A. M. (2001) ‘A Shifting Policy Environment Divides the Impact of State Feminism in Finland’, in A. Mazur (ed.), State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Job Training: Making Democracies Work in the Global Economy, New York and London: Routledge, pp. 183–212. Holli, A. M. (2002) ‘Suomalainen tasa-arvopolitiikka vertailevan tutkimuksen valossa’, in A. M. Holli, T. Saarikoski and E. Sana (eds), Tasa-arvopolitiikan haasteet, Helsinki: WSOY and Tasa-arvoasiain neuvottelukunta, pp. 128–145. Holli, A. M. (2003) Discourse and Politics for Gender Equality in Late TwentiethCentury Finland, Department of Political Science, Acta Politica 23, Helsinki: Helsinki University Press. Holli, A. M. (2004) ‘Towards a New Prohibitionism? State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Prostitution Policies in Finland’, in J. Outshoorn (ed.), The Politics of Prostitution. Women’s Movements, Democratic States and the Globalisation of Sex Commerce, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 103–22. Holli, A. M. and Kantola, J. (2005) ‘A Politics for Presence: State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Political Representation in Finland’, in J. Lovenduski et al. (eds), Feminism and Political Representation of Women in Europe and North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Inglehart, R. and Norris, P. (2003) Rising Tide. Gender Equality and Cultural Change Around the World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Interparliamentary Union webpages. Available at: http://www.ipu.org/ [accessed 22 January 2005]. Jallinoja, R. (1983) Suomalaisen naisasialiikkeen taistelukaudet. Naisasialiike naisten elämäntilanteen muutoksen and yhteiskunnallis-aatteellisen murroksen heijastajana. Porvoo: WSOY. Jónasdóttir, A. (1988) ‘On the Concept of Interests, Women’s Interests and the Limitations of Interest Theory’, in K. B. Jones and A. Jónasdóttir (eds), The Political Interests of Gender. Developing Theory and Research with a Feminist Face, London: Sage, pp. 33–65. Kantola, J. (2004) ‘Gender and the State: Comparisons of Feminist Discourses in Finland and Britain’, Unpublished PhD thesis, University of Bristol. Kantola, J. (2005) ‘Transnational and National Gender Equality Politics: The European Union’s Impact on Domestic Violence Debates in Britain and Finland’, in S. Hellsten, A. M. Holli and K. Daskalova (eds), Women’s Citizenship and Political Rights, London: Palgrave. Katainen, E. (1994) Akkain aherrusta aatteen hyväksi. Suomen Naisten Demokraattinen Liitto 1944–1990, Tampere: Tammer-Paino. King, G., Keohane, R. and Verba, S. (1994) Designing Social Inquiry: Scientific Inference in Qualitative Research, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Lähteenmäki, M. (2000) Vuosisadan naisliike: naiset ja sosialidemokratia 1900-luvun Suomessa, Helsinki: Hakapaino. Lähteenmäki, M. (2000) Vuosisadan naisliike: naiset ja sosialidemokratia 1900-luvun Suomessa. Helsinki: Sosiaalidemokraattiset naiset. Lejonqvist-Jurvanen, N. (2004) ‘Betydelsen av det kvinnliga intresset i Finlands riksdag – en studie av riksdagens kvinnliga nätverk åren 1991–1999’. Unpublished Master’s thesis, Department of Political Science, University of Helsinki.

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Lovenduski, J. (2005), ‘State Feminism and Political Representation’, in J. Lovenduski et al. (eds), Feminism and Political Representation of Women in Europe and North America, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lovenduski, J., Baudino, C., Guadagnini, M., Meier, P. and Sainsbury, D. (2005a) ‘Conclusions: State Feminism and Political Representation’, in J. Lovenduski et al. (eds), Feminism and Political Representation of Women in Europe and North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Lovenduski, J., Baudino, C., Guadagnini, M., Meier, P. and Sainsbury, D. (eds) (2005b) Feminism and Political Representation of Women in Europe and North America. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mazur, A. and Parry, J. (1998) ‘Choosing not to Choose in Comparative Policy Research Design: The Case of the Research Network on Gender, Politics and the State’, Policy Studies Journal, 26 (3): 384–97. Mazur, A. (2001a) ‘Introduction’, in A. Mazur (ed.), State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Job Training: Making Democracies Work in the Global Economy, New York and London: Routledge, pp. 3–27. Mazur, A. (2001b) ‘Comparative Conclusions’, in A. Mazur (ed.), State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Job Training: Making Democracies Work in the Global Economy, New York and London: Routledge, pp. 293–318. Mazur, A. (ed.) (2001c) State Feminism, Women’s Movements and Job Training: Making Democracies Work in the Global Economy, New York and London: Routledge. Mazur, A. (2002) Theorizing Feminist Policy, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Melkas, T. (1999) Tasa-arvobarometri 1998, Elinolot 1998, 1, Helsinki: Tilastokeskus, Tasa-arvoasiain neuvottelukunta. Melkas, T. (2001) Tasa-arvobarometri 2001, Elinolot 2001, 1, Helsinki: Tasaarvoasiain neuvottelukunta, Tilastokeskus. Melkas, T. (2004) Tasa-arvobarometri 2004, Julkaisuja 2004, 20, Helsinki: Sosiaali-ja terveysministeriö. Norris, P. (1987) Politics and Sexual Equality. The Comparative Position of Women in Western Democracies, Boulder: Rienner. Nupponen, T. (1969) ‘Suomen puolueohjelmat ja sukupuoliroolit’, in K. Eskola (ed.), Miesten maailman nurjat lait, Helsinki: Tammi. Outshoorn, J. (2004a) ‘Introduction: Prostitution, Women’s Movements and Democratic Politics’, in J. Outshoorn (ed.), The Politics of Prostitution. Women’s Movements, Democratic States and the Globalisation of Sex Commerce, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 1–20. Outshoorn, J. (2004b) ‘Comparative Prostitution Politics and the Case for State Feminism’, in J. Outshoorn (ed.), The Politics of Prostitution. Women’s Movements, Democratic States and the Globalisation of Sex Commerce, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 265–92. Outshoorn, J. (ed.) (2004c) The Politics of Prostitution. Women’s Movements, Democratic States and the Globalisation of Sex Commerce, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Phillips, A. (1995) The Politics of Presence, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pitkin, H. (1967) The Concept of Representation, Berkeley: The University of California Press. Ragin, C. (1987) The Comparative Method: Moving Beyond Qualitative and Quantitative Strategies, Berkeley: University of California Press.

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Ramstedt-Silén, V. (1999) Riksdagsutskott eller kvinnoförening? Det kvinnliga nätverket I Finlands riksdag. SSKH Notat 4/99. Svenska social- och kommunalhögskolan vid Helsingfors universitet: Helsingfors. RNGS (2004) RNGS Project Description/September 2004. Available from: http:// libarts.wsu.edu/polisci/rngs/pdf/project904.pdf [accessed 22 March 2005]. Räsänen, L. (1984) ‘Katsaus tasa-arvolainsäädännön kehitykseen vuosina 1970–1982’, in Mies – nainen – ihminen, Helsinki: Opetusministeriö. Sainsbury, D. (ed.) (1994) Gendering Welfare States, London: Sage. Siaroff, A. (1994) ‘Work, Welfare and Gender Equality: A New Typology’, in D. Sainsbury (ed.), Gendering Welfare States, London: Sage, pp. 82–100. Siukola, R. (2004) ‘Poliittinen puolue ja naisen paikka? Naispoliitikon toiminnan mahdollisuudet ja rajat Kansallisessa Kokoomuksessa’, Naistutkimus – Kvinnoforskning, 17 (4): 22–33. Stetson, D. M. (2001a) ‘Introduction: Abortion, Women’s Movements and Democratic Politics’, in D. M. Stetson (ed.), Abortion Politics, Women’s Movements and the Democratic State. A Comparative Study of State Feminism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 1–16. Stetson, D. M. (2001b) ‘Conclusion: Comparative Abortion Politics and the Case for State Feminism’, in D. M. Stetson (ed.), Abortion Politics, Women’s Movements and the Democratic State. A Comparative Study of State Feminism, Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 267–95. Stetson, D. M. (ed.) (2001c) Abortion Politics, Women’s Movements and the Democratic State. A Comparative Study of State Feminism, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stetson, D. M. and Mazur, A. (eds) (1995) Comparative State Feminism, Thousand Oaks: Sage. Tremblay, M. and Pelletier, R. (2000) ‘More Feminists or More Women? Descriptive and Substantive Representations of Women in the 1997 Canadian Federal Elections’, International Political Science Review, 21 (4): 381–405. Westman, A. L. (2000) Under the Northern Lights. The Reflection of Gender on the Career of Women Managers in Finnish Municipalities, University of Joensuu, Publications in Social Sciences no. 43, Joensuu. Young, I. M. (1990) Justice and the Politics of Difference, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Young, I. M. (2000) Inclusion and Democracy, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Zwingel, S. (2005), ‘How Do International Women’s Rights Become Effective Domestic Norms? Analysis of the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women and Its Impact on the National Contexts of Chile and Finland’. PhD Thesis. University of Bochum.

8 Transnational and National Gender Equality Politics: The European Union’s Impact on Domestic Violence Debates in Britain and Finland Johanna Kantola

Introduction The aim of this chapter is to investigate transnational gender equality politics and its meaning to national politics. In order to do this, the chapter will explore the relationship between violence against women and gender equality in two European Union (EU) member states, Finland and England, and in the EU itself. The link between domestic violence and gender equality has been strong in Britain and weak in Finland, and is emerging at the EU level. The EU’s gender equality policies develop within a framework of differing national understandings of what gender equality consists of, what is crucial for gender equality and how to achieve it. These differing conceptualisations have, in turn, taken very different institutional forms in the member states. As there is no universal understanding of the conception of gender equality, even amongst feminists within Europe, the EU plays an important role in negotiating new conceptions of gender equality. In this process, the EU member states learn from one another and new EU level conceptions of gender equality emerge. The entry of the two Nordic countries, Finland and Sweden, into the EU in 1995 was generally perceived as enhancing the status of gender equality in the Union.1 It has also been noted that the Nordic countries, especially Sweden, were worried that entry to the EU would bring down their high national standards on gender equality (Bergqvist and Jungar, 2000). For example, in Finland the gender equality model relies on some 154

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key characteristics of the women-friendly welfare state, namely women’s full-time participation in the labour market, extensive public sector child care arrangements, individual taxation, and universal welfare benefits (Anttonen, 1997).2 Whilst Finland has appeared as a pioneer in gender equality in relation to these fields, Britain has lagged behind. It has been EU legislation that has shaped British policies on retirement, pay and pensions, maternity and parental rights, sexual harassment in the work place and protective legislation (Meehan and Collins, 1996: 226–9). Some commentators, such as Gösta Esping-Andersen, suggest that the Nordic welfare state model and its gender contract could be a model for all Europe (quoted in Borchorst and Siim, 2002a: 69). In the face of such prescriptive tendencies, it is important to explore the limits and restrictions of the model and its gender equality discourse.3 One way to do this is to focus on violence against women, which has not been an integral part of the gender equality policies in the Nordic countries (Ronkainen, 1998; Lindvert, 2002). Domestic violence is not a typical area of study for scholars interested in EU gender equality policies either. The EU competence in the field is low and can use only so-called soft policy instruments, such as recommendations and action plans, to tackle the problem. However, some important insights are to be gained by focusing upon domestic violence debates. First, recognising the importance of violence against women for gender equality exposes some of the limits of the Finnish gender equality discourse and institutions and challenges the pioneer status of Finland in achieving gender equality. This, in turn, raises interesting questions about which and whose models we should follow when aspiring for gender equality in the EU. Second, the recent EU attempts to tackle violence against women point to the ways in which EU equality policy is widening from the original narrow concerns with economic equality to new areas. Feminist scholars have directed their energies to studying the EU’s role in shaping women’s social and economic rights (see, however, Elman, 1996). It could be argued that this buys into prevailing assumptions about gender equality and results in an emphasis on liberal and economic, legal and political categories, and, therefore, a narrow understanding of gender equality. A focus on violence against women has the potential to broaden the debates on gender equality and on the role of the EU in achieving gender equality. A number of scholars use the concept of Europeanisation to study the impact of the EU on member states’ politics. The term captures the way in which a European dimension becomes an embedded feature framing politics within European states (Featherstone, 2003: 3). Europeanisation

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is a process of convergence towards shared policy frameworks which does not, however, require uniformity or imply an erosion of the domestic or an overriding of member state’s internal processes (Liebert, 2003: 15, 16; see also Caporaso and Jupille, 2001). Study of Europeanisation has often been located within a broadly institutionalist discourse and domestic institutions are viewed as filtering the impact of EU-level innovations (Cram, 2001: 606). Whilst recognising the importance and contributions of institutionalist analysis, this chapter wishes to combine institutional analysis with discourse analysis. British, Finnish and EU debates on domestic violence are compared and contrasted on the level of discourses, institutions and actors. The aim is to capture the interplay of diverse discourses and processes of institutionalisation in the two countries and the EU. The chapter will proceed as follows. In the first section, I will analyse the domestic violence debates in Britain and Finland respectively and focus on the discourses, institutions and actors that have shaped domestic violence policy in these countries. The section will show the differences between national gender equality discourses in the two member states. In the second section, I will concentrate on the EU policies on violence against women. This will illustrate the ways in which the EU is emerging as a transnational actor in the field. In the third section, I will consider the meaning and the impact of the EU policies on Finland and Britain. Finally, I will draw some conclusions about the relationship between the national and transnational gender equality policies.

Gender equality and domestic violence in Finland and Britain The aim of this section is to show the strong national discourses about domestic violence that exist in member states. The British refuge movement, Women’s Aid, grew out of and drew on radical feminist ideas.4 It became the most prominent actor of the women’s movement on the issue of domestic violence and started setting up a network of refuges for battered women in the 1970s. By 1977, there were nearly 200 refuges in the UK for women escaping domestic violence. Women’s Aid articulated a universal domestic violence discourse. In this discourse, any woman could experience domestic violence – it was not a problem of workingclass families or alcoholic men only: Until men no longer see women as their possessions, but as people with equal status and rights, women will always be beaten. We are

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fighting not only to stop battering, but also to change the position of women in our violent society. (National Women’s Aid Federation, 1978: 2) Women’s Aid’s feminist explanation saw domestic violence as a reflection of unequal power relations both in society and in personal relationships and domestic violence as a symptom of the more general male violence and domination over women (Hague and Malos, 1993). In other words, for Women’s Aid, domestic violence was a serious societal problem and its root causes could be tackled only by making the general position of women in society better (Coote and Gill, 1977; Weir, 1977). In relation to the state, these feminists drew on an autonomy discourse that was underpinned by distrust of the state as an institution and a belief in the autonomy of the women’s movement. Autonomy from the state was important in order to maintain and discover feminist ways of working (National Women’s Aid Federation, 1978). Women were made strong through self-help and through sharing experiences with other women in similar life situations. Women’s Aid was for women and by women, and its feminism was inspired by a ‘women-only’ strategy. Women were treated not as victims but as survivors in order both to challenge victim-blame and to make visible women’s resistance strategies (Kelly and Radford, 1996: 20). The Women’s Aid organisation was non-hierarchical and was based on democratic functioning. In the autonomy discourse, every engagement with the state was regarded as having its price. For example, a turn to the state might result in compromising on societal critique and feminist practice (Rose, 1985). Feminists in academia not only endorsed Women’s Aid’s discourses on domestic violence and the state but also radicalised them and provided academic research and theories to back up the arguments. Liz Kelly (1987) employed the concept of the continuum of sexual violence which emphasised that sexual violence exists in most women’s lives and only the form sexual violence takes, how women define events and the impact of the events on them at the time and over time, vary (Kelly, 1987: 48). Feminist academics confirmed the importance of autonomy and empowerment as strategies to deal with domestic violence and warned against tokenistic and divisive reforms executed by the state (Hanmer, Radford and Stanko, 1989: 11). In Britain, however, the discourses on domestic violence were diverse. Competing discourses explained domestic violence in terms of individual pathology and emphasised that women were also violent (Pizzey, 1982).5 The parliamentary debates in the 1970s demonstrate that there

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was deep unease among Conservative male members of parliament (MPs) about the appropriate means to deal with domestic violence.6 They were particularly worried about the role of the police in transgressing the public/private distinction and intervening in ‘domestic disputes’. Their arguments drew on a nuclear family discourse, where the unity of the family should be respected by the police, and on a scarce resources discourse, which questioned whether it was justified to increase the burden on the police. Courts, in turn, stressed men’s property rights. These ideas were extremely important in explaining resistance to feminist discourses. Diversity also existed within feminism. Black feminist theorising highlighted black women’s different experience of ‘universal’ domestic violence (Southall Black Sisters, 1989). Also non-feminist actors, such as the Women’s National Commission, Victim Support, the Home Office and the Law Commission, started to contribute to the debates. Their discourses in turn impacted on and shaped Women’s Aid’s feminist discourses, but also showed the impact that the feminist discourses had had on the public debates (see, for example, Home Affairs Committee, 1993). In comparison to Britain, the lack of feminist discourses on domestic violence in the 1970s and 1980s in Finland was striking. Domestic violence was a silenced problem (Ronkainen, 1998) and there were very few feminists in Finland who would have considered violence against women as pivotal for gender equality. Feminist activists or theorists did not set the domestic violence agenda; it was set by non-feminist actors, who argued that domestic violence was caused by dynamics in the family. In direct contrast to British feminist discourses, in the family violence discourse, the relationship between the perpetrator and the victim was the most important factor causing domestic violence (Peltoniemi, 1984: 159). Whilst feminists in Britain succeeded in establishing that domestic violence occurred regardless of differences in class, race, ethnicity or sexuality (see Home Affairs Committee, 1993), in Finland it was argued: Almost all research shows that family violence accumulates more to the lower social groups than might be expected statistically. This is not surprising because all criminal violence is more common in lower than higher social groups. (Peltoniemi, 1984: 46) According to Peltoniemi, domestic violence was not caused by the structure of the patriarchal society, as emphasised by the British feminist discourses, and, therefore, the solution to the problem of ‘family violence’

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was also to be found on the individual level (Peltoniemi, 1982, 1984: 230). At best, domestic violence was seen as a social problem which required practical social policy solutions. As a social policy problem, ‘family violence’ became just a small part of bigger social problems such as alcoholism or mental problems.7 The discourse constructed a strong dichotomy between the family dynamics model and the feminist model (see Table 8.1). The family dynamics approach became the superior norm in Finland. In this dichotomous way of thinking, the family dynamics model was moderate, sensible, reasonable and prudent, in contrast to the irrational, extreme, feminist men haters outside society. The dichotomy was persuasively established and it effectively silenced feminist voices on domestic violence in Finland. There was hardly any space for positive understandings of the meaning of feminist ideas about autonomy and empowerment as in the British context. The first feminist discourses on domestic violence in Finland started to emerge in the beginning of the 1990s, almost twenty years later than in Britain. In feminist journals of the 1990s it was finally argued that ‘violence against women is a clear sign of unequal gender relations’ (Uusi Nainen, 1991, 1992). On the international level domestic violence had been taken increasingly seriously since the mid-1980s and various bodies and organisations were condemning domestic violence as a serious human rights violation Table 8.1

Differences in refuge ideologies

Concept Relationship to feminism Cause of family violence Nature of family violence Victim Children Openness of the activities Accepting men Form of action Target of action Personnel Relationship to the state Participation in politics

Family dynamics approach

Feminist approach

Family violence Negative Relationship problems Social sickness Both woman and man Very important Very open Accepted as personnel and visitors Private conversations Family Professional Co-operation Weak

Battered women Highly positive Patriarchal society Crime Only woman Less important Very closed Not accepted at all

Source: Table in Peltoniemi (1984: 210); translation JK.

Groups Women’s self-confidence Non-professional Independent Strong

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and demanding national governments to take action (Keck and Sikkink, 1998). It was via the international level influence that the importance of tackling domestic violence as a gender equality question came to Finland.8 To meet the international pressure the Council for Equality established a committee to study violence against women in 1990 (the Violence Subcommittee). The Committee argued that it had been difficult in Finland to accept the existence of domestic violence because: it fits so badly to the image we have of the status of the Finnish women. It is commonly assumed that the status of the Finnish women is the best in the world and that gender equality has already been achieved in Finland. (Naisiin kohdistuva väkivalta, 1992: 1) The Committee formulated a gendered violence discourse and used the concept of violence against women in contrast to family violence to challenge the hitherto dominant idea that domestic violence was gender neutral. However, these feminist discourses on violence against women did not represent a real alternative to the women-friendly welfare state discourse. They pointed out that the dominant understanding of Finland as a women-friendly welfare state had worked against recognising the extent of violence against women in Finland but at the same time they drew on the dominant discourse and argued that women-friendliness demanded that the state had to tackle to problem. The state had to take responsibility in confronting violence against women. In contrast to Britain, there was little space to formulate discourses on autonomy or empowerment. The strong national discourses underpin the institutional frameworks for tackling domestic violence in these two countries. On the one hand, in Britain, domestic violence legislation was drafted and implemented much earlier than in Finland, and it was possible to obtain injunctions by the end of the 1970s when the Domestic Violence and Matrimonial Proceedings Act 1976 was passed (see Maidment, 1985: 8; McCann, 1985: 76). On the other hand, the refuge network, established in accordance with the ideas of empowerment and autonomy, received no national funding and faced severe funding problems. At the same time, police practice improved slowly and the Home Office issued guidelines for better practice in the beginning of 1990s (Home Office, 1990). The situation was quite different in Finland. At the beginning of 1990s, domestic violence could only be dealt with under the 1889 criminal law. It was not legally possible to obtain injunctions and the police had no guidelines on how to deal with domestic violence. The law distinguished

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between violence in the public and private spheres and rape in marriage was not criminalised. Research into domestic violence was mostly nonacademic and no statistics existed to reveal the extent of the problem. Furthermore, in Finland, refuges did not grow out of the women’s movement or feminist activism as in Britain, but developed from former child welfare institutions. The provision for battered women did not take place outside the public sector but was complicit with its services. When a family came to a refuge, the partner who stayed at home was contacted. Refuges organised family discussions which the perpetrator was invited to participate in (Leskinen, Mäkinen and Peltoniemi, 1982). Domestic violence only entered Finnish public debates in the 1990s and the institutions reflected its late arrival. However, when reforms started to take place, they were often swift, in contrast to the incremental developments in Britain. Legal developments included criminalising rape in marriage in 1994. In 1995, prosecution in domestic violence cases became the responsibility of the general attorney and the Act on Restraining Order was passed in 1998. The Social Affairs and Health Ministry took up its role as the leading governmental department on the issue. New statistics showed that 40 per cent of Finnish women have experienced physical or sexual violence or the threat of violence by men. Only a quarter of women who had experienced violence had sought outside help, mainly from hospitals or the police in cases of severe injury. Only 2.8 per cent had sought help from refuges (Heiskanen and Piispa, 1998). In conclusion, the discussion shows that there were strong and varying national discourses about one aspect of gender equality in the two member states, that of violence against women. These discourses defined the content of gender equality – the link between gender equality and domestic violence – and the scope of gender equality politics. They also underpinned the domestic violence institutions of these countries. In sum, the discussion shows the importance of the national context that transnational policies and strategies confront.

Gender equality and domestic violence in the EU In the mid-1990s, some scholars argued that violence against women was a high priority issue for the UK women’s networks but not for those of the EU (Sperling and Bretherton, 1996: 309). Since then, however, the issue of violence against women has gained in prominence in the EU. In this section, it becomes evident that the EU does not just filter discourses between the EU member states, but synthesises and brings

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different discourses together in novel ways. The point relates closely to the emergence of new actors and institutions, which articulate and embody the new discourses. Sonia Mazey suggests that the EU plays an important role in the creation and legitimation of new policy actors with whom national governments have to deal (1998: 132–3). The European Women’s Lobby (EWL) emerged as a key actor in articulating discourses about violence against women at the EU level in the 1990s. It was the largest coalition of women’s non-governmental organisations in the EU representing over 3,000 affiliated organisations from member-states as well as Europeanwide women’s organisations. It was established in 1990 to promote equality between women and men and to ensure that gender equality and women’s rights were taken into consideration in all EU policies (Hoskyns, 1996: 185–6). In 1997, the EWL developed within its existing structures a European Policy Action Centre on Violence against Women. The goal was to provide a forum for women’s NGOs and to enable them to take a leadership role in engaging policy and decision-makers to tackle violence against women. An Observatory on Violence against Women was also formed. It was an expert group composed of fifteen women, one from each of the memberstates of the time, with extensive expertise in the area of violence against women. The task of the Observatory was to advise the EWL on strategies to address violence against women within the EU. The aim was to extend lobbying beyond national boundaries and to achieve European-wide responses to address violence against women. The EWL argued that the work of the Policy Action Centre, with the input of the Observatory, was instrumental in facilitating and developing a co-ordinated approach to violence against women within the EU (EWL, 2002). In her evaluation of the network, Catherine Hoskyns suggested that the EWL was biased towards educated and professional women (1996: 203). European networking touched only a fraction of women’s activity throughout the EU, and distances, lack of resources and the abstraction of EU processes deterred many women from participating. The EU was seen as having little to offer women concerned with sexual politics and violence against women (Hoskyns, 1996: 203). The EU’s strong focus on employment policy had shaped EWL’s priorities. With its new structures, however, the EWL was able to reach out to new constituencies and accommodate new concerns in its agendas. Women Against Violence Europe (WAVE), in turn, formed a bottom-up forum for women’s organisations. WAVE was a European-wide NGO network against violence against women and children. The establishment of

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its organisational structure benefited from the EU Daphne Initiative in 1997 (discussed below). The network comprised approximately 1,000 women’s organisations combating violence against women and children in Europe. The aims of the network included taking common action and promoting feminist analyses of violence against women. The network was more critical of the EU, its patchy funding and commitment than the EWL (WAVE, 2000: 9). Another channel and form of access for women preventing domestic violence was the European Parliament and the European Commission (see Footitt, 2002). Since the 1970s, female members of the European Parliament (MEPs) constituted an important part of the women’s lobby at the European level, and since 1981 there was a standing committee for women’s rights within the European Parliament (Mazey, 1998: 142). Individual female commissioners were important actors in domestic violence debates. Anita Gradin, Swedish Commissioner between 1995 and 1999, took initiatives on a number of issues, and in September 1999 Anna Diamantopoulou was appointed as a commissioner with specific responsibility for gender equality (see Hubert, 2001: 159). These actors articulated feminist discourses about violence against women and ensured their presence at the EU level. The universal domestic violence discourse, as identified in the discussion on Britain, was also endorsed at the EU level: Violence affecting children, young people and women is present in all societies, regardless of the level of development, the political system, culture or religion. (European Commission, 2001: 3) A significant element of the universal discourse, which suggested that domestic violence results from differences in power between men and women, was emphasised by the female actors in particular (see EWL, 2003). Gradin stated in the European Parliament: ‘Violence against women is the most extreme expression of the lack of equality which exists between women and men’ (European Parliament, 1997). This was also argued by other female MEPs in parliamentary debates.9 Maj-Britt Theorin (Committee on Women’s Rights and Equal Opportunities of the European Parliament) argued on another occasion: Long-term precise studies in all spheres of society will unveil that violence against women is not random, accidental, or a private matter. Rather it is structural. It is both a manifestation of the power balance

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between women and men, and a social mechanism which forces women into continuing subordination. (2001: 16) The universal domestic violence discourse drew on the idea of a continuum of violence (Kelly, 1987). Violence against women was linked with other issues, such as prostitution and trafficking in women, and governments were criticised for not treating all aspects of violence against women in a coherent way: ‘Prostitution cannot be dissociated from other forms of male violence perpetrated against women’ (EWL, 2003a). The feminist discourses found their way to the documents of the Commission (European Commission, 2001: 3). In parliamentary debates, however, it was left mainly to the female MEPs to articulate and represent feminist discourses, and even to debate the topic. In the 1997 debate, only one of the 14 MEPs who spoke in the debate was a man (European Parliament, 1997). In 1999, three out of the 17 MEPs who spoke in the debate were men (European Parliament, 1999). This suggests that violence against women was seen as a women’s issue, although Gradin explicitly attempted to reframe violence against women as a man’s problem (European Parliament, 1999). The EWL was also worried about a new trend where feminist definitions might be losing ground. Evidence of the depoliticisation of the public discourse on violence against women is emerging at both national and European level. This means that increasingly the feminist analysis of violence against women as a manifestation of the unequal power relations between women and men and the institutionalisation of these power relationships in all areas of public and private life is being eroded. (EWL, 2003) Another feminist strategy involved appealing to a human rights discourse and articulating violence against women as a breach of women’s rights. The human rights discourse emerged from the debates that had taken place at the United Nations (UN) level since the early 1990s. For example, the 1993 Vienna Declaration was pivotal in recognising women’s rights as human rights (UN, 1993; Pietilä, 2002: 27) and facilitated understanding violence against women within this framework. The European Women’s Lobby argued: An important part of the EU population is submitted to torture, slavery, humiliation, violence and degrading treatments precisely because they

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are women … The persistence of violence against women, in all its forms and throughout the whole life cycle of women, is a fundamental barrier to the enjoyment by women of their fundamental human rights and freedoms and to the achievement of equality between women and men. (EWL, 2003a) Diamantopoulou stated: ‘Violence against women … has political repercussions since it is a violation of the fundamental human rights’ (in Lisbon, 4–6 May 2000). In the human rights discourse, domestic violence was articulated as an international problem, as opposed to a domestic or national problem, and the discourse gave a role to the international actors, such as the EU or the UN, in tackling the problem.10 A third discourse, namely a public health discourse, where violence against women was conceptualised as a public health problem, emerged at the EU level. At the UN level, it was endorsed by the World Health Organisation (WHO), which argued: A growing body of research evidence is showing that sharing her life with an abusive partner can have a profound impact on a woman’s health … Although violence can have direct health consequences, such as injury, being a victim of violence also increases a woman’s risk of future ill health. (WHO, 2002: 100) In this discourse, domestic violence was conceptualised as harmful to women’s health. The harm done to women’s health was argued to have public and national level repercussions: it led to an increase in sick leave, in health care costs and in lost working hours. Institutionally, the influence of this discourse could be seen especially in the fact that public health was made the legal basis of the new EU Daphne Programme in 1999. As a consequence, tackling violence against women in the Daphne Programme had to be made to fit the frame of protection of public health. The public health discourse was criticised by female MEPs for being narrow and for reducing violence against women to a health problem (European Parliament, 1999). However, the EWL adopted the discourse and tried to work within it. Violence is a leading worldwide public health problem … EU action is urgently needed to prevent all forms of violence, in particular violence against women, in order to protect women’s human rights, and

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to reduce the consequences for the health of women, men and children, and for socio-economic development. (EWL, 2003b) This quotation is an indication of the prevalence of the public health discourse at the EU level. It also shows that feminist actors adopted the discourse and used it when combating violence against women. The MEPs’ cautious remarks, in turn, suggest that adoption of the discourse was not without problems; it might narrow violence against women to questions of public health protection. The EU’s domestic violence policy and institutions developed within the boundaries of ‘soft law’ – guidelines, recommendations and action plans – and not with legally binding directives (‘hard law’) (Elman, 1996: 8; Shaw, 2000: 423). This led some commentators to conclude that the EU impact on member states was not significant in the field of domestic violence (see, for example, Sifft, 2003: 154). The low competence was initially combined with a lack of interest, and feminists questioned the EU’s willingness to interfere in the domestic violence policies of member states. Jalna Hanmer (1996: 143) argued that the EU agenda was one that excluded most of women’s lives, in particular, the complexity of the connections between family, work, welfare, and the labour market, without which violence against women could not be understood. It is undeniable that the EU mainly concerned itself with work-related equality and women’s rights in the workplace. In addition, feminist scholars tended to concentrate on areas other than domestic violence when studying the role of the EU.11 However, domestic violence did emerge as a concern at the European level as early as the 1980s (European Parliament, 1986).12 This was well before it was regarded as an important issue in Finland but later than in Britain. Since then significant developments have taken place that have raised the profile of domestic violence at the EU level. A few key developments are outlined below to illustrate this. For instance, the human rights provisions of the EU were strengthened with the Amsterdam Treaty 1997 (which came into force on 1 May 1999), which turned equality for women and men into one of the explicit tasks of the European Community (Article 2). The Treaty allowed sanctions to be taken against member states violating in a ‘serious and persistent’ way liberty, democracy, respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms and the rule of law (Article 7) for the first time. The promotion and protection of the human rights of women thus became an essential part of the EU’s human rights policy (European Commission, 2000: 9; Hubert, 2001: 156–7). This signals that the original commitment of the EC member

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states to equal pay for equal work was widened to recognise equality between women and men as a fundamental principle of democracy for the whole EU (Hubert, 2001: 145). In December 2000, the European Commission adopted the European Charter of Fundamental Rights of the European Union. The Charter set out for the first time in EU history the Union’s obligation to promote a whole range of civil, political, economic and social rights of European citizens and all people resident in the EU. Articles 20–27 address issues of equality and guarantee to protect and ensure the right to equality between women and men (European Commission, 2002: 4–5). The new Framework Strategy on Gender Equality was implemented in 2001, further integrating the issues of violence against women and trafficking in women within the general framework designed to promote gender equality in all aspects of social and civil life (European Commission, 2002: 4–5). Both developments suggest that it is possible to articulate violence against women as a women’s right issue within the human rights discourse. Accordingly, the EWL called on the EU to establish a firm legal basis on violence against women within the new EU Treaty/Constitution (2003). Within the boundaries of soft law, some EU actions illustrated a strengthened commitment to tackle violence against women. Austria, Germany, Finland, Portugal and Spain hosted conferences on the topic during their presidency and each of them adopted EU-wide recommendations or statements. The Stop Programme was set up in 1996 to strengthen co-operation to combat trafficking in women and children and it was followed by the Daphne Initiative (1997–9) to support and promote close cooperation of NGOs active in this field, to improve statistics and information on violence against women, to encourage preventive measures and to strengthen the protection of victims of violence (European Commission, 2001). A new Daphne Programme followed (2000–3). It was open to public bodies in addition to NGOs and had a budget of 20 million euros (European Commission, 2000a: 19). In July 1997, the European Parliament adopted a ‘Report on the need to establish a European wide campaign for zero tolerance of violence against women’ (the rapporteur was Marianne Fredriksson on behalf of the Committee on Women’s Rights). The campaign was launched in 1999 by the European Commission, together with the European Parliament, member states and NGOs (European Commission, 2001: 5; Theorin, 2001: 17). In the context of the campaign, a large, cross-national survey on attitudes towards domestic violence against women was carried out (European Commission, 1999). At the same time, statistics revealed that at least one in five women in the EU experience violence by their intimate male

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partner and 95 per cent of these acts of violence take place within the home (EWL, 1999). In conclusion, this section has illustrated the emergence of new actors (EWL, WAVE, European Parliament and European Commission), new discourses (public health, human rights), and new institutions (Stop and Daphne Programmes) at the EU level. These developments took place beyond state borders, but had the potential to influence member states’ domestic violence policies. In other words, member states have to deal with the new actors, discourses and institutions. Similarly, feminist actors, discourses and strategies are now situated in this multi-level governance framework. The EWL and WAVE are two examples of the ways in which feminists are engaging with new institutions and levels of governance. This suggests that it is important that feminist scholars and activists grasp the importance of these new developments.

The EU discourses in the contexts of Finland and Britain In this final section, I focus on the potential meaning of the EU discourses for domestic violence debates in Finland and Britain. It is often noted that EU policies are thwarted by problems of non-implementation and non-compliance. National policy styles form a dense ‘hinterland’ of detailed programmes, policies and institutions and it takes a very long time for EU institutions and policies to permeate and change this hinterland significantly (Mazey, 1998: 145). As noted above, on the issue of domestic violence, the EU did not even resort to hard law (binding directives or regulations) but remained in the field of soft law, which did not require similar actions from the member states. Domestic violence institutions remain different in the member states and the EU does not attempt to influence them radically. Therefore, my main focus is on the three discourses on domestic violence that have been predominant at the EU level; universal domestic violence, human rights and public health discourses; and their meaning for domestic violence debates in the two countries examined here. When comparing the discourses on violence against women in the EU, Finland and Britain, it is evident that the feminist explanatory discourse, the universal domestic violence discourse, was strong in Britain, and had relatively many representatives in the EU, but had not been influential in Finland. The legitimacy of the feminist discourses in Britain and the EU contrast strongly with the predominant family violence discourse in Finland. In Britain, since the beginning of 1990s, both female and male MPs, on the Left and Right, argued in parliamentary

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debates that domestic violence was a universal phenomenon. In other words, feminist discourses had filtered through to the state level in that member state. In Finland, by contrast, the universal domestic violence discourse was not recognised by non-feminist or state actors. The significance of the relatively late recognition of the problem of domestic violence is illustrated by the following statistics (European Commission, 1999). A significant percentage of the Finnish respondents (39.1 per cent) knew of a woman in their circle of friends and family who had been a victim of domestic violence. The figure for the UK was 32.8 per cent and the EU average was only 19.3 per cent. Also, 40.1 per cent of the Finnish respondents knew a perpetrator in their circle of friends and family. In the UK, the corresponding figure was 27.4 per cent and the EU average was 16.5 per cent (see Tables 8.2 and 8.3). The figures indicate that domestic violence was widespread in Finland. Yet, when asked whether domestic violence was common in Table 8.2 Proximity of domestic violence to which women are victims (1) The respondents were asked: Do you know of a woman who has been a victim of some form of domestic violence in your circle of friends and family?

Finland UK EU

Yes (%)

No (%)

39.1 32.8 19.3

56.9 63.3 76.3

Source: European Commission (1999: 111).

Table 8.3 Proximity of domestic violence to which women are victims (2) The respondents were asked: Do you know of someone who has subjected a woman to some form of domestic violence in your circle of friends and family?

Finland UK EU

Yes (%)

No (%)

40.1 27.4 16.5

56.1 68.8 79.2

Source: European Commission (1999: 116).

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Table 8.4

How widespread is domestic violence against women?

The respondents were asked: In general, do you think domestic violence against women is very common, fairly common, not very common or not at all common in your country? Very Common (%) Finland UK EU

8.3 32.1 24.0

Fairly Common (%)

Not Very Common (%)

55.1 48.9 49.5

30.6 11.2 18.3

Source: European Commission (1999: 6).

their country, only 8.3 per cent of the Finnish respondents thought that it was very common, in contrast to 32.1 per cent of the UK respondents, the EU average being 24.1 per cent (Table 8.4). 30.6 per cent of the Finns thought that domestic violence was not very common in contrast to 11.2 per cent of UK respondents. In sum, there seemed to be a lack of recognition about the seriousness of the issue in Finland. Statistics about the frequency of violence against women in Finland had not influenced public opinion in Finland. This indicates that despite the positive institutional developments in Finland, the status of combating domestic violence was not very high. In such a context, support and pressure from, for example, the EU have an important role to play. Hence, the EU discourses offer important support for feminist discourses in Finland.13 First, the universal domestic violence discourse supports an understanding that violence against women results from unequal power relations. Second, the human rights discourse stresses that in matters of bodily integrity the individual’s negative rights (freedom from) are as important as positive rights (freedom to). Traditionally in the Nordic countries, the latter have been more important and anti-discrimination laws have not played a central role in achieving equality. It is only recently that the legal position of an individual has been influenced by human rights discourse and that there has been an increased consciousness of legal rights in Finland (Nousiainen and Niemi-Kiesiläinen, 2001: 2). The EU has been an important source of legal developments in this field (Nousiainen, 2004). Arguably, the human rights discourse also has a role to play in Britain. Under New Labour since 1997, a process of ‘domestication of international human rights law’ has taken place, which denoted the incorporation of parts of the European Convention on Human Rights and Fundamental

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Freedoms (the Convention) into internal UK law and the adoption of the Human Rights Act 1998 (Millns, 1999: 182–3). Susan Millns (1999: 198) suggested that some of the decisions reached in the European Court of Human Rights indicate that the state could not always draw the boundaries of public and private sphere activity as narrowly as it might desire. She further argued that EU human rights law was already proving significant for combating sexual violence in the UK and might provide a new source of legal arms for female prisoners, recipients of welfare benefits, victims of sexual harassment, single mothers and individual concerned about the politics of sexual identity (Millns, 1999: 209).14 The public health discourse has not traditionally been very strong in Finland or in Britain, although in England the Women’s Aid’s website contains statistics on domestic violence and health.15 In the EU, by contrast, the discourse was prominent and was debated in the European Parliament. This signals the ways in which the EU is synthesising ideas, for example, from member states and the international level (UN, WHO). Member states have to deal with these new discourses in complex ways, for example, when national organisations apply for EU funding from the Daphne Programme, which is underpinned by the public health discourse.

Conclusion This chapter has explored national discourses about gender equality on the one hand, and emerging transnational discourses on the other. The chapter focused on one particular aspect of gender equality – violence against women – in two EU member states, Finland and Britain, and in the EU itself. The two member states were shown to have strong national discourses on the topic. These discourses, however, now interact with the transnational discourses that are emerging at the EU level. In the context of different national discourses about violence against women, the EU emerged as an important mediator between member states. It was a new transnational arena for actors, discourses and institutions. First, the EU provided the member states with new actors, such as the European Women’s Lobby (EWL). Second, on the level of discourse, the EU discourses provided support for feminist analyses of violence against women in Finland. In addition, the EU brought forward discourses, such as human rights and public health discourses, which were not prominent in the two member states analysed here prior to EU intervention. Third, on the institutional level, the developments of the EU domestic violence policy remained rather weak to date but some important programmes were put in place (Daphne and Stop).

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Importantly, the evaluations of the influence of the transnational discourses are likely to depend on national discourses and policies. For example, the importance of the EU domestic violence discourses was possibly greater in Finland than in Britain. Britain has a well-established domestic violence policy and the EU discourses are likely to be either less important or to meet more resistance in that member-state. It is often assumed that developing countries benefit from international influence in terms of advancing gender equality. This chapter, in contrast, has pointed to some of the ways in which a country that is thought to be a pioneer in gender equality can benefit from transnational gender equality discourses. The chapter illustrates ways in which the EU could contribute to the advancement of gender equality in Finland. The discussion showed that Finland lagged behind in recognising violence against women as an integral part of gender equality, and it was only in the mid-1990s as a result of international pressure that the Finnish authorities began to address the problem. This international influence is proving to be important still in the 2000s and a significant part of it comes from the EU, as the discussion illustrated. A focus on domestic violence points to the positive impact of the transnational discourses represented by the EU. Notably, a focus on other aspects of gender equality might result in more negative conclusions about the relationship between the national and the transnational. In Finland, women and feminist voices are incorporated to the decisionmaking processes at the national level through women’s policy agencies and women’s high representation in the parliament. However, the same is not the case at the EU level, where Finnish women’s voices are not heard equally well. In other words, although the EU has an impact in redefining violence against women in more feminist terms in Finland, this does not increase the chances of Finnish women’s movements to act at the EU level. The discussion here has pointed to merely redefining particular discourses about domestic violence, not providing women with more spaces within which to act. It is possible to draw some more general conclusions about studying the EU as a transnational actor. I studied the EU discourses, actors and institutions in terms of one specific policy area, namely domestic violence. A focus on some other aspect of gender equality might result in different conclusions. Therefore, it is crucial to note that the ‘EU’ and its policies do not form a homogeneous field. This suggests that EU gender policies can only be captured by studying different fields, revealing the contradictory effects and differentiated nature of the EU and its policies on the member states.

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Finally, the analysis about the EU discourses not only shows the importance of the transnational but also points to the continuing power of national discourses. For example, in Finland, the EU debates on domestic violence had the potential to challenge the women-friendly welfare state discourse, but there is no indication of this happening. Nevertheless, the EU was a source of new discourses for Finland and the Finnish women’s movement could look to the EU. On the topic of domestic violence Britain and its women’s movement did not look to the EU, one reason being the country’s well-established national discourses on this topic.

Notes 1. For such evaluations see Stratigaki (2000: 30), Banaszak (2003: 145) and Rees (1998: 5). 2. For a recent discussion on the ethnocentrism of the women-friendly welfare state discourse and its other problems see Borchorst and Siim (2002). 3. Differences and similarities between the five Nordic countries are constantly debated, and these debates question the existence of one Nordic model and challenge attempts to portray the countries as aligned (see for example Bergqvist et al., 1999). In this chapter, I focus only on Finland, and do not attempt to argue that the same arguments pertain exactly in the same way in relation to the other Nordic countries. 4. A detailed discourse analysis is beyond the scope of this chapter but forms part of my PhD thesis (Kantola, 2004a), on which this paper is based. See also Kantola (2004b). 5. For a classification of different explanations, see Smith (1989) and Hague and Malos (1993). 6. See for example the debate in the House of Commons, 13 February 1976. 7. The power of the discourse could be seen in the few publications in the 1980s that dealt with domestic violence, for example in a special issue of the Finnish Social Security journal, Sosiaaliturva (24/1981). 8. Developments that were particularly influential in Finland included a conference organised by the Committee of Ministers of the Council of Europe on Social Measures Concerning Violence in the Family (15 January 1990), the First Conference of European Ministers on Physical and Sexual Violence against Women in Brussels (14–15 March 1990), the United Nations study Violence Against Women in the Family (UN 1989), and the UN declaration 20 December 1993 on violence against women. 9. Since 1996, there have been two debates on violence against women in the European Parliament and two debates on trafficking in women: 16 September 1997, Debate on Violence against women, 15 December 1997, Debate on Trafficking in Women for the purpose of sexual exploitation, 8 March 1999 debate on Violence against Women – Daphne programme, and 18 May 2000 Debate on Trafficking in Women. 10. Feminists have been sceptical about the appropriateness of the human rights discourse for feminist struggles. For a discussion of different positions, see Charlesworth and Chinkin (2000).

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11. See for example Hantrais (2000), Mazey (1998), Meehan and Collins (1996). 12. For example, in 1986, the European Parliament’s Women’s Committee produced a report on violence against women (European Parliament, 1986; Hanmer, 1996: 139; Hoskyns, 1996: 155). The report led the European Parliament to enact a ‘Resolution on violence against women’ on 14 July 1986. 13. One example of a productive encounter between Finnish and wider EU communities active on the topic was the EU expert meeting on Violence Against Women in November 1999 in Jyväskylä, Finland, which brought together activists and scholars from EU countries (see Keeler, 2001). Another one is the fact that the Coalition of Finnish Women’s Associations is currently in the process of translating the EWL domestic violence guide (2002a) into Finnish. The guide draws explicitly on the feminist perspective, where “violence against women is considered a structural problem, the cause of which is a direct result of gender inequality” (EWL, 2002: 3). 14. See also Millns (2003) for a more cautious analysis of the capacity of the Human Rights Act to improve women’s lives in Britain. 15. See http://www.womensaid.org.uk/dv/dvfactsh2.htm (accessed 18 April 2005).

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Millns, S. (1999) ‘“Bringing Rights Home”: Feminism and the Human Rights Act 1998’, in S. Millns and N. Whitty (eds), Feminist Perspectives on Public Law, London and Sydney: Cavendish Publishing Ltd, pp. 181–210. Millns, S. (2003) ‘Women’s Rights after the Human Rights Act 1998’, in A. Dobrowolsky and V. Hart (eds), Women Making Constitutions: New Politics and Comparative Perspectives, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 142–54. Naisiin kohdistuva väkivalta: Väkivaltajaoston mietintö (1992) Tasa-arvojulkaisuja. Sarja B: Tiedotteita 5/1991, Helsinki: Sosiaali- ja terveysministeriö. National Women’s Aid Federation (1978) Women! You Don’t Have to Put up with Being Battered: How to Get an Injunction, London and Manchester: Manchester Law Centre and National Women’s Aid Federation. Nousiainen, K. (2004) ‘Against Discrimination or for Equality?’, in V. Puuronen et al. (eds), New Challenges for the Welfare Society, Joensuu: University of Joensuu Press. Nousiainen, K. and Niemi-Kiesiläinen, J. (2001) ‘Introductory Remarks on Nordic Law and Gender Identities’, in K. Nousiainen et al. (eds), Responsible Selves: Women in the Nordic Legal Culture, Aldershot: Ashgate, pp. 1–24. Peltoniemi, T. (1982) Perheväkivalta Suomessa ja Ruotsissa: yleisyys ja asenteet, Oikeuspoliittisen tutkimuslaitoksen julkaisuja 54, Helsinki. Peltoniemi, T. (1984) Perheväkivalta, Helsinki: Otava. Pietilä, H. (2002) Engendering the Global Agenda: The Story of Women and the United Nations. Development Dossier, UN Non-Governmental Liaison Service. Pizzey, E. (1982) Prone to Violence, Available at: http://www.bennett.com/ptv/ [accessed 18 April 2005]. Rees, T. (1998) Mainstreaming Equality in the European Union: Education, Training and Labour Market Policies, London and New York: Routledge. Ronkainen, S. (1998) Sukupuolistunut väkivalta ja sen tutkimus Suomessa – Tutkimuksen katveet valokeilassa, Naistutkimusraportteja 2/98, Helsinki: Sosiaali-ja terveysministeriö. Rose, H. (1985) ‘Women’s Refuges: Creating New Forms of Welfare?’ in C. Ungerson (ed.), Women and Social Policy: A Reader, London: Macmillan, pp. 243–59. Shaw, J. (2000) ‘Importing Gender: The Challenge of Feminism and the Analysis of the EU Legal Order’, Journal of European Public Policy, 7 (3): 406–31. Sifft, S. (2003) ‘Pushing for Europeanisation: How British Feminists Link with the EU to Promote Parental Rights’, in U. Liebert (ed.), Gendering Europeanisation, Brussels: Presses Interuniversitaires Européennes, pp. 149–86. Smith, L. (1989) Domestic Violence: An Overview of the Literature, London: Home Office. Sosiaaliturva (1981) ‘Perheväkivalta – piiloväkivaltaa’ 24: 1182–3. Southall Black Sisters (1989) ‘Two Struggles: Challenging Male Violence and the Police’ in C. Dunhill (ed.), The Boys in Blue: Women’s Challenge to the Police, London: Virago, pp. 38–44. Sperling, L. and Bretherton, C. (1996) ‘Women’s Policy Networks and the European Union’, Women’s Studies International Forum, 19 (3): 303–14. Stratigaki, M. (2000) ‘The European Union and the Equal Opportunities Process’, in L. Hantrais (ed.) Gendered Policies in Europe, London: Macmillan, pp. 27–48. Theorin, M. B. (2001) ‘Statement’, in L. Keeler (ed.), Recommendations of the E.U.: Expert Meeting on Violence Against Women, Helsinki: Ministry of Social Affairs and Health, pp. 15–19.

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United Nations (UN) (1989) Violence Against Women in the Family, Sales No. E.89IV.5, New York: United Nations. United Nations (UN) (1993) Declaration on the Elimination of Violence Against Women, New York: United Nations. Uusi Nainen (1991) ‘Lyönti sattuu sieluun saakka’ 8, pp. 13–15. Uusi Nainen (1992) ‘Naisiin kohdistuva väkivalta on yhä tabu’ 2, pp. 46–8. Women Against Violence Europe (WAVE) (2000) Newsletter 1/2000, Available at: http://www.wave-network.org/WAVE012000.rtf [accessed 10 July 2003]. Weir, A. (1977) ‘Battered Women: Some Perspectives and Problems’, in M. Mayo (ed.), Women in the Community, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, pp. 109–20. World Health Organisation (2002) World Report on Violence and Health, Geneva: WHO.

9 Implementing Gender Equality: Gender Mainstreaming or the Gap between Theory and Practice Petra Meier 1

Strategies to improve women’s participation in politics and to promote their full citizenship not only focus on the physical presence of women on the political scene, but also address the achievement of gender equality through public policies. Public policies can indeed help women to overcome barriers to their entry in the political sphere, but they are especially targeted at achieving gender equality in society at large. For a long time, gender equality policies were limited to ensuring equal treatment of both sexes in legislation. Later on, they developed into what are often called specific gender equality policies. While the former approach was meant to correct existing discrimination (in legislation) and to make citizens formally equal, the latter recognised that equal rights do not necessarily mean equal opportunities or even equal outcome, because of the structurally different starting positions individuals face in everyday life. Specific measures, such as positive action, were introduced to mitigate structural, though not legal, inequality and to promote equality (Nelen and Hondeghem, 2000). Since the fourth UN women’s conference held in Beijing in 1995, gender equality policies have increasingly been reoriented towards a broader and more structural approach of gender inequalities, with countries like the Netherlands being precursors in this field. Next to specific or targeted gender equality policies, other public policy areas are also meant to promote gender equality, not the least by recognising how previous and current policies contain biases (re)producing gender inequality and how these can be overcome. Gender mainstreaming is in sum meant to gender the mainstream public policies. From the outset, there were high expectations about gender mainstreaming and the possibilities it raised for achieving gender equality. 179

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Disappointment about the results of former policies to promote gender equality increased hopes that the new structural approach of gender mainstreaming might be more successful. But there were also critical voices underlining that gender mainstreaming would not be the magic spell or potion. A decade after the introduction of gender mainstreaming feelings are still mixed. Whereas many believe in its ‘revolutionary potential’, the results cannot be evaluated to be an overwhelming success despite numerous political statements. This raises some questions. Why do political decisions about gender equality measures so often become watered down or forgotten when they reach the implementation stage? Why do institutions not change in the intended manner? And what factors contribute to these problems of implementation or rather, of non-implementation? How could they be amended, which institutional characteristics – or women’s strategies for that matter – could contribute to gender equality issues being taken seriously in various – political and bureaucratic – institutions? The aim of this chapter is to address these questions. The focus is thereby not so much on what has been achieved, but on what could be achieved. Hence, the focus is on the potential of gender mainstreaming to achieve gender equality taking the political and institutional setting of the public policy context into account. I will first start with an analysis and discussion of the definition of gender mainstreaming, or, of what it promises. The basic underlying assumption is that what is considered to be a success or failure depends to a large extent on the definition of the goal to be achieved (see also Walby, 2004). Much of the existing literature on gender mainstreaming concentrates on evaluating gender mainstreaming attempts and draws lists of factors contributing to the potential success of gender mainstreaming in achieving its goal (see, for instance, Woodward, 2003). Many of these factors come close to what the Council of Europe (1998) has called ‘facilitating conditions’ or ‘necessary prerequisites’ for gender mainstreaming. On the whole, these factors are considered to determine at least partially the potential success of gender mainstreaming. However, they are ideal criteria, which have been defined from the perspective of what is required, not from that of what is available in public policy making practices. Because these factors are intrinsically related to the definition of gender mainstreaming, this definition imposes on them, and I have to discuss them together with the definition itself. Second, I turn to public policy literature in a broader sense, more specifically to what are considered to be the sufficient conditions for an effective implementation of public policies. I will compare the prerequisites for an effective implementation of gender mainstreaming with these

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conditions. Implementing public policies is never smooth; the perfect implementation of public policies simply does not exist. The problems observed in (the implementation of) gender equality policies should not be overestimated or all defined as being entirely caused by the issue at stake, namely the achievement of gender equality. However, gender equality policies in general, and gender mainstreaming in particular, face specific problems. We should distinguish between particular implementation problems related to gender equality issues and those related to the implementation of public policies in general. Comparing the prerequisites for the implementation of gender mainstreaming with the sufficient conditions for the effective implementation of public policies as they have been defined by the mainstream public policy literature, helps to make this distinction. In a broader sense, I think that it is also relevant not to study gender mainstreaming or gender equality policies as separate entities, but to try to link them to ‘mainstream’ public policy studies. Finally, I will confront the literature with the everyday practice of policy-making, because the literature defining sufficient conditions for the implementation of public policy encounters the same problem as earlier. The conditions thought favourable for implementation are ideal criteria. The final question addressed focuses not so much on what is ideally required but on what is available and on what we can learn from that situation for further thinking on gender mainstreaming, both in theoretical and in political terms.

The promises made by gender mainstreaming The most common definition of gender mainstreaming is the one formulated by the Council of Europe. It reads as follows: Gender mainstreaming is the (re)organization, improvement, development and evaluation of policy processes so that a gender equality perspective is incorporated in all policies at all levels and at all stages, by the actors normally involved in policy-making. (Council of Europe, 1998: 15) This definition is without doubt the most widespread and adopted, both by practitioners and scholars of gender mainstreaming. Therefore, I will start by analysing this definition to see what it is that gender mainstreaming promises. Although gender equality policies and women’s policy machineries (Stetson and Mazur, 1995) have many names, the concept of gender

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equality has broadly speaking evolved from a legalistic approach of equal rights, to equal opportunities supported by positive action, to what is called a more structural conceptualisation of gender equality. In the feminist literature gender mainstreaming represents this latest approach. It implies an underlying model of equality that is based on assigning new standards for gender equality not only for women but also for men (Rees, 1998). Although not all scholars agree on this farreaching definition as being the sole model of gender equality in gender mainstreaming (see, for instance, Booth and Bennett, 2002), there is a tendency to argue that equality should not be defined as sameness, whereby male standards are accepted without discussion and the aim consists of upgrading the societal position of women to equal that of men. Neither should equality be defined as an equal valuation of difference between the sexes whereby women (and men) might still be stuck in traditional role patterns. Gender mainstreaming rather implies that new standards are defined for both sexes that are neither male nor necessarily confirm traditional role patterns. Verloo (2001) argues that gender mainstreaming stands for the recognition of the impact of gender biases on the reproduction of gender inequality. Her description of this dynamic suggests that both gender inequality itself and its mechanisms of reproduction have a structural basis. Similarly, Liebert (2002) argues that gender mainstreaming widens the gender equality frame by expanding thinking about the structural and institutional causes of inequality. Neither the definition of equality as sameness, nor its definition as the equal valuation of differences between the sexes is considered to fully recognise the structural causes of gender equality. As mentioned before, gender mainstreaming is often considered to have a ‘revolutionary potential’. ‘This strategy implies a much more complex and widespread political action, and a revolutionary change in the process of policy-making’ (Bustelo, 2003: 384). ‘Gender mainstreaming requires a radical redefinition of policy values and practices’ (Woodward, 2003: 65). Other scholars, too, refer to the fact that gender mainstreaming is a potentially revolutionary (Verloo, 2001) or radical (Mazey, 2000) strategy. The revolutionary or radical potential of gender mainstreaming does not only refer to the underlying model of equality and hence the outcome of the policy-making process, but especially to what a gender mainstreaming strategy would do to the policy-making process itself. Gender mainstreaming is meant to lead to a critical review of deeply embedded cultural values and policy frames (Mazey, 2000) or practices (Woodward, 2003). It requires new perspectives, new expertise and the change of established operating procedures (Pollack and

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Hafner-Burton, 2000). It actually addresses political, policy and bureaucratic systems and structures themselves (Rees, 1998). It implies more complex and broader political action (Bustelo, 2003), in order to come to a transformation of the existing policy agenda (Verloo, 2001). In the end, gender mainstreaming means that its principles and practices become part of the routine of policy formulation and implementation, that they become part of the deeply embedded rules or practices of institutions (Bretherton, 2001). Taking a closer look at the Council of Europe’s definition of gender mainstreaming leads to a similar conclusion on the expected revolutionary potential of gender mainstreaming regarding the policy-making process. First, gender mainstreaming organises, reorganises, improves, develops and evaluates policy processes. Hence it is meant to intervene in the existing policy-making process. The minimal result is that the policy process is challenged, for instance by the addition of new elements or by a minor reorganisation. The maximum is that the policy-making process becomes completely revised and remodelled, adding major new dimensions to it. Second, gender mainstreaming requires that a gender equality perspective be incorporated in all policies at all levels and at all stages. Again, this involves major changes since gender equality policies have traditionally been confined and limited to the competencies of the women’s policy machinery meant to develop sector policies. The mainstream of the policy-making process was not required to adopt a gender equality perspective. Furthermore, a gender equality perspective was not applied to all stages of the policy-making process. Third, gender mainstreaming implies that a gender equality perspective is adopted and incorporated by the actors normally involved in policy-making whereas formerly gender equality policies were confined to the women’s policy machinery. The impact gender mainstreaming should have on the policy-making process is reflected in it being labelled as an agenda-setting approach (Jahan, 1995) as opposed to an integrationist one. Gender mainstreaming is supposed to reorient the mainstream political agenda because it fundamentally rearticulates policy paradigms, ends and means from a gender perspective and it prioritises gender objectives. While the agenda-setting approach transforms mainstream policies, an integrationist approach does not challenge the mainstream itself. It would merely limit itself to inserting a gender perspective, to adding women to the mainstream, without questioning the underlying policy paradigms (Lombardo, 2005). Feminists prefer the agenda-setting approach and argue that gender mainstreaming is precisely about challenging and transforming the mainstream.

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The articulation of gender mainstreaming as an at least potentially revolutionary strategy, and its prevailing conceptualisation, are indicators of the expectations fostered. They promise a lot and raise high expectations. Lombardo (2005) clearly reveals these promises through a list of indicators developed in order to recognise whether a gender mainstreaming strategy has been adopted. In order to study the extent to which the processes preceding the two recent European Conventions on the Future of Europe and the Charter of Fundamental Rights followed a gender mainstreaming strategy, she defined five shifts in the policy-making process that at least partly have to occur in order to be able to speak of the existence of gender mainstreaming. A first shift concerns concepts underlying the policy-making process. Gender mainstreaming implies a shift to the broader and more holistic concept of gender equality discussed above, with a focus on gender and not only on women, and the aim of achieving substantive equality. A typical element of such a shift is that structural causes of the reproduction of inequality, such as the male standard, the patriarchal system or men’s behaviour, are focused on too. A second shift implies that the mainstream policy agenda has to be reoriented in order to give priority to achieving gender equality. Policy objectives and measures meant to achieve substantive gender equality have to get a relevant place in meaningful policy initiatives and fields. Gender equality objectives and targeted policies of special relevance for women should get priority. A third shift requires that a gender perspective is built into the larger or mainstream political agenda, as has also been discussed before. Policy measures have to be screened regarding their effects on both sexes. Policy ends and means have to be thought through and rearticulated from a gender perspective. A fourth and related shift concerns the institutional and organisational cultures of political decision-making, implying shifts in the policy process, in policy mechanisms and regarding policy actors. This involves acquiring the necessary gender expertise and knowledge on the mechanisms causing and reproducing gender inequality as well as on the necessary remedies. It entails more cooperation among actors of different policy areas and from civil society, as well as the development and use of new policy tools. A fifth and final shift implies parity between men and women in decision-making bodies and processes, hence, a shift towards the inclusion and participation of a higher number of women in political decision-making.2 Advocates and scholars of gender mainstreaming acknowledge that such shifts do not occur by themselves. For the change to occur, a set of necessary prerequisites needs to be in place. These are the necessary

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political will to define gender equality as one of the main policy objectives and to question prevailing paradigms, structures, processes and policies reproducing gender inequality. These conditions also imply the necessary knowledge on the current gender relations and on gender issues. Special emphasis is put on the availability of statistics and data segregated by sex. Furthermore, as mentioned before, policy processes have to be reorganised or developed in order to be able to cope with gender mainstreaming. Another condition for gender mainstreaming is the availability of the necessary financial means, human resources, etc. Finally, gender mainstreaming requires the presence of complementary specific gender equality policies, of a women’s policy machinery and of the participation of not only men but also women in political decisionmaking. All these necessary prerequisites or facilitating conditions are considered to set the framework for gender mainstreaming. It is argued that gender mainstreaming is difficult to implement without them. In this respect the definition of gender mainstreaming promises a lot and raises high expectations, but it is also – and this is commonly recognised – very demanding. It is a fact that the conceptualisation of gender mainstreaming itself is a source of possible deception when it comes to results.

Conditions for an effective implementation of public policies There are different policy styles between countries, regions or levels of policy-making, due to differences in political, administrative or juridical systems, their paradigms, organisational and cultural processes or routines, as well as fundamental norms and values prevailing in society at large. The successful implementation of public policies is also directly related to former steps in the policy-making process and there are different ways to approach the question of how to implement public policies. None the less, the public policy literature on implementation theory defines a number of conditions for an effective implementation of public policies or of constraints to be avoided (Hogwood and Gunn, 1984; Hill and Hupe, 2002). They can be summarised in two sets of conditions, external and internal factors. Internal factors are directly related to the implementation stage of public policies, their presence or absence having a direct impact on the effective implementation of public policies. External factors affect the implementation stage of public policies even though they are no direct part of it. Generally, they are related to stages preceding the implementation of policies or they are part of the larger framework in which policy-making takes place.

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A first external factor affecting the implementation stage is the requirement that public policies be based on a valid theory of cause and effect. This implies that there is a correct analysis and understanding of the policy problem lying at the basis of policy intervention. It also implies that this should be translated into an adequate prognosis of how to solve the problem at stake. There need be not only a correct diagnosis itself, but also a correct understanding of the principal factors and causal linkages affecting the policy objectives defined. The relationship between cause and effect should be as direct as possible, preferably without any intervening links or with as few as possible. Attempts to translate policy problems into policy objectives through very complex patterns of dependency with (various levels of) intervening variables hamper effective implementation. Second, there should be a complete understanding of and agreement on the policy objectives to be achieved. Policy objectives should not be vague or evasive but easy to identify, clear and specific. They should be consistent, mutually compatible and supportive. And they should be understood and agreed upon by all parties involved. Third, sufficient competence and jurisdiction over the target groups and other points of leverage is essential. Finally, circumstances external to the implementing process should not have a constraining effect on it. The relative priority of the policy goals formulated should not be undermined by the emergence of conflicting public policies or by other external conditions undermining effective implementation, such as changes in relevant socio-economic conditions or the lack of political will on behalf of important policy actors to achieve the goals set. The literature underlines the need for substantial commitment to and active support of the policy objectives or statutory goals set. The second set of conditions for the effective implementation of public policies focuses on internal factors directly related to the implementation stage. First, the implementation process should be sufficiently structured. The implementing agency should have an adequate hierarchical integration. Tasks should be fully specified; it should be precisely defined who does what in moving towards the objectives. There should be a perfect communication and co-ordination of the various actors and elements involved in achieving the policy goals set. Preferably there is but one single implementing agency and otherwise dependency relationships should be reduced to a minimum. The more agreement needed in the stages of the implementation process, or the greater the number of actors involved, or both, the less predictable the policy outcome becomes. Second, the implementing agency should be sympathetic to the issue. Third, adequate time and sufficient resources in terms

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of money, of human resources, of substantial skills, etc. should be made available. There must not only be enough overall resources but also the necessary combination of resources needs to be available at every stage of the implementation process in order to avoid postponement or abandonment. Even though Hogwood and Gunn (1984) produce a policy analysis for what they call ‘the real world’, they underline that their conditions are those for a perfect implementation of public policies, thereby recognising that they do not occur in practice. It is an illusion to believe that policy making happens under ideal circumstances. None the less, contrasting the prerequisites for gender mainstreaming with the conditions for effective implementation as defined in the public policy literature can help to detect potential implementation problems regarding gender mainstreaming.

Conditions for the effective implementation of public policies and gender mainstreaming Gender mainstreaming definitely shares with public policies more generally the external constraints affecting the implementation stage from the outside. The very need for gender equality policies basically resides in the fact that problems of inequality are not perceived at all or that they are wrongly perceived. If the causes of gender inequality had been correctly assessed and addressed there would simply be no need for policies meant to achieve gender equality. For instance, for a long time it was not considered a problem that women had no right to vote, to property or to the same employment, salary and pension rights as men, and this is still the case in certain areas. These differences on the grounds of sex were (or are) not perceived as being problematic and it took a long struggle by feminists to get them recognised as such. The problem of gender inequality is also a very complex one. Its causes are multiple and they can be found in the organisation of all spheres of society: citizenship, labour and intimacy. It goes beyond the individual, a certain location or even one time frame. Gender inequality is fed by layers of causes, which are related to each other and subject to change. The evolution in the recognition of the causes of gender inequality also means that gender mainstreaming faces important constraints when it comes to an easy translation of the relationship between cause and effect as there are many intervening links. The interconnectedness between gender inequality and other social inequalities such as those based on race, ethnicity and sexual orientation, make it difficult to simplify the problem into a

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single simple diagnosis and prognosis, which is meaningful for policy purposes. Simplification in this case often leads to abstraction; a reduction of the problem leads to simply recognising that gender inequality exists and that the solution is to strive for the achievement of gender equality. This might be the bottom line of the issue but such a simplistic articulation is not helpful from the point of view of the formulation of policy objectives. Hence, the complexity of gender inequality issues might make it difficult to come to clear, specific and consistent policy objectives. However, the growing complexity of policy problems does not only concern the issue of gender inequality but is a feature characterising society at large. And the accumulation of insights into the causes of gender inequality certainly facilitates the formulation of more effective policies. This does not alter the fact that the diagnosis of gender inequality issues faces the problem that it interferes with broader normative concerns. As with many other policy questions, the issue of gender inequality is analysed within the setting of a – often at least partially unarticulated – normative view of the correct or ideal society, including perceptions of women’s and men’s societal roles. The difficult separation of normative assumptions from a problem diagnosis of gender inequality issues makes a correct estimation of the actual situation more difficult. The correctness of a certain analysis is never anything but relative because it is related to the normative conceptualisation of society. Normative assumptions might blur the diagnosis of gender inequality but moreover they might have implications for the prognosis; for the policy objectives defined. The danger that policy objectives do not in the end correspond to the problems as such might reside in the fact that they are blurred by normative assumptions about the positions men and women should occupy. Both the complexity of the problem of gender inequality and its articulation within normative settings on what male and female societal positions should look like, potentially undermine the necessary ‘perfect’ understanding of and agreement on the policy objectives to be achieved. They make it unlikely that policy objectives on gender equality are understood and agreed by all parties involved. This is even more true in the case of gender mainstreaming, because it requires an understanding of more complex causes and patterns of inequality, a shift to a broader model of gender equality and a prioritisation of gender equality issues within a broad range of policy fields formerly not implied in the achievement of gender equality. Gender mainstreaming puts into question prevailing policy paradigms, both when it comes to gender equality and when it comes to other paradigms. Even if fully understood by all

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parties involved it is unlikely that the transformations gender mainstreaming involves will be agreed upon by all of them. Gender equality policy objectives have seldom been awarded relative priority, and the requirements of gender mainstreaming make it even less likely that it will be put on the top of the political agenda. Gender equality policies will probably continue to come off worst in the competition between conflicting public policy objectives (for a very good illustration of the priority of the supply side of the labour market see, for instance, Rubery, 2002; or Stratigaki, 2004; see also Bretherton, 2001). Gender mainstreaming does not only share the constraints affecting the implementation of public policies from the outside. It is especially affected by the factors directly related to the implementation stage and it is at this level that we can mainly find problems particular to gender mainstreaming. The effective implementation of public policies is supposed to require a sufficiently structured process, implying a minimum number of dependency relationships and preferably just one implementing agency. Gender mainstreaming, like all horizontal policy approaches, fundamentally challenges this principle. The basic idea of gender mainstreaming is that a gender equality perspective is incorporated in all policies at all levels and at all stages, and that all policy actors contribute to the achievement of the gender equality objectives set. In this respect, implementation in the gender mainstreaming approach resembles a governance paradigm, whereby the focus is more on network management and less on a vertical chain-like relationship. This means that a multitude of actors is involved in the implementation of policy objectives and not a single policy agency, and that these actors are located in all policy fields and at all levels. An effective implementation of gender equality policies therefore requires a comparatively high degree of communication and co-ordination of the various actors and elements involved in achieving the policy goals set. It also requires a more elaborated and very precise definition of responsibilities and tasks between the different actors involved in the implementation process. These supplementary efforts require extra resources: knowledge and expertise, both on gender issues and on the management of the implementation process; actors who actually execute all these tasks; tools and instruments to do so; in sum: money and time. But gender mainstreaming requires more than resources. It involves a remodelling of implementation processes. All these supplementary efforts, which are required by horizontal approaches to policy-making, stand in sharp contrast to the fact that gender equality policy objectives are often not considered to be a priority. Policy outcomes can further be hampered by the fact that the

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inclusion of all policy fields implies non-hierarchical working relationships. The multitude of actors, and especially the inclusion of actors formerly not involved in gender equality issues, also increases the likelihood that not all of them are sympathetic to the issue of gender equality.3 Finally, gender mainstreaming challenges the relative importance of the women’s policy machinery. On the one hand, it might move towards centre stage, because of its comparably high expertise and crucial coordinating role. On the other hand it loses its privileged status as an expert on gender equality policies. In sum, gender mainstreaming shares the external constraints affecting the implementation of public policies in general and in addition it faces particular internal ones. This conclusion puts the problem of the weak implementation and unsatisfactory outcomes of gender mainstreaming policies into perspective. But it also illustrates that what the literature on gender mainstreaming defines as being necessary prerequisites or facilitating conditions are relevant claims.

Gender mainstreaming and the gap between theory and practice Attempts to implement gender mainstreaming confirm that many of the constraints can be found in typical policy making. An ongoing analysis of various types of policy documents related to political participation, family policy and domestic violence in six European countries and at the EU level over the last decade (see www.mageeq.net [accessed 19 April 2005]) reveals that such documents in many cases do not follow a rigid rational problem analysis (Krizsán et al., 2004; Meier et al., 2004; Verloo et al., 2004). The policy documents do not necessarily provide for a coherent problem analysis. They are even less likely to extrapolate it to a clear prognosis of how to solve the problem and with what it means. In cases where a problem analysis is present it is often limited to listing a long number of problems without necessarily relating them to each other or searching for their underlying causes. In many cases policy documents limit themselves to prognosis, which often takes the form of ‘shopping lists’ of wished measures. These measures are frequently unrelated to the problem in need of a solution, and they do not specify who is supposed to do what and which means are necessary to attain the objectives set. Finally, many policy documents lack a clear role attribution in diagnosis and prognosis of who caused the problem, who should solve it and which are the target groups of the policy to be implemented. Policy documents actually reflect that they are generally as much a

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result of political compromises as of a rational analysis of the policy issue at stake. Policy documents have to be agreed upon by a large number of actors, hence, priority might be given to achieving the necessary political consensus rather than producing an analytically consistent policy document. More than the analytically correct goal, policy documents reveal the politically acceptable objective. The acceptability of the goal is related to prevailing assumptions about gender equality. As Bretherton correctly underlines, gender mainstreaming ‘is not an attempt to remedy an absence’ (Bretherton, 2001: 62). The organisation and functioning of society is imbued with understandings about gender. ‘In consequence, attempts to “mainstream” gender equality are confronted by pervasive understandings and practices supportive of male dominance’ (Bretherton, 2001: 62). Liebert (2002), for instance, argues that the widening of the prevailing equality policy frame through gender mainstreaming in Germany collides with the frame of the male breadwinner. The German tax system, nurseries, schooling provisions, parental leave allowances and other systems strongly stimulate a (male) bread winner and a (female) care giver who has renounced paid employment and they do not correspond to a model of equality required by gender mainstreaming. Such pre-existing gender regimes have a strong impact on the implementation and impact of gender mainstreaming (Walby, 2004). To a certain extent they determine the degree of openness to gender mainstreaming and the extent to which it can contribute to change. Conservative perceptions of gender roles by some actors undermine the adoption of far-reaching gender equality objectives and putting them into practice as recent Belgian (Plasman and Sissoko, 2004) and Spanish (Lombardo, 2003) policy initiatives have shown. Existing gender regimes do not only set the general context for gender mainstreaming. The existence of different and eventually conflicting perceptions of gender equality can lead to policy documents including various models of gender equality. The European Commission, for instance, bases its policy recommendations on many different models of gender equality such as equality as sameness, an equal valuation of difference, and the request to set new standards for both sexes (Walby, 2004). The analysis of policy documents related to political participation, family policy and domestic violence in six European countries and at the EU level revealed that whereas one definition of gender equality can lead to the formulation of different policies, different definitions can also lead to the very same suggestion for a policy solution (Meier et al., 2004). The question is to what extent this conjunction of gender equality models and unrelated concrete objectives is a conscious choice, the ignored outcome

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of political negotiations or the consequence of a lack of insight in gender equality issues. In many cases the assumption that women have to catch up with men is still very much on the agenda and many objectives essentially refer to women, even though the policies are officially labelled gender mainstreaming (Service public fédéral Emploi, Travail et Concertation sociale et al., 2002, 2003; see also Benschop and Verloo, 2000; or Nelen, 2000, who report similar cases and conclusions). An analysis of the postcivil war reconstruction of Bosnia-Herzegovina revealed that not only a lack of sensitivity to gender equality but also erroneous gender stereotypes about men and women led to poor policies (True, 2003). The further away from the femocrat centre or the women’s policy machinery that gender mainstreaming attempts travel, the more frequently the term gender mainstreaming is misunderstood (Woodward, 2003). No matter the causes for the absence of a clear vision of gender equality, the point is that this absence makes it possible to adapt the definition of gender equality to a particular situation. Rubery (2002) points out the clear absence of such a definition at the EU level, which allows the member states to define very different policies within the same policy field. While some member states take the role of women as the primary caregiver for granted and design policies meant to facilitate and not to change women’s dual role in employment policies, others challenge traditional gender roles. The problem then is that what is labelled as gender mainstreaming might not actually be gender mainstreaming, leading to policies that are sold under the wrong label, not necessarily bringing substantive gender equality closer. Existing gender regimes, especially conservative perceptions of gender roles, also stimulate strategic framing on behalf of the advocates of gender mainstreaming. Advocates of gender mainstreaming try to extend existing frames or to construct links with existing frames, by connecting gender mainstreaming to the language, values and objectives of the dominant prevailing policy frames (Verloo, 2001; see also Lombardo, 2005). There is evidence that the more gender mainstreaming is strategically framed in accordance with dominant policy frames, the more open the political system is towards it (Pollack and Hafner-Burton, 2000; see also Benschop and Verloo, 2000; Plasman and Sissoko, 2004; or Rubery, 2002, for concrete examples of strategic framing). Benschop and Verloo (2000) point out a related strategy, that of self-censorship. In a gender mainstreaming approach the approval of various actors is often required all along the policy-making process. This can lead to a form of selfcensorship on behalf of the advocates of gender mainstreaming in order to anticipate possible negative reactions and to prevent conflict.

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But strategic framing and preventive self-censorship can have the boomerang effect that the message is not passed, relevant details on how gender relations should change or even the basic assumptions of gender mainstreaming do not necessarily get across. This makes it more likely that key elements of the message of gender mainstreaming do not find their way into a sound problem analysis or even formulation of policy objectives. In the end, strategic framing and self-censorship might undermine the putting into practice of gender mainstreaming. The problem is that the more hostile the policy context is likely to be towards gender mainstreaming, the greater the chance that advocates will try to frame it strategically, which might then in itself decrease the likelihood of having a sound gender mainstreaming approach adopted. However, there is no short-term solution for this dilemma, especially since gender equality is seldom a priority, other than a rhetorical one (see for instance Lombardo, 2003; Plasman and Sissoko, 2004). Or, as Stratigaki points out with respect to EU policies: Analysis of the barriers to implementing gender mainstreaming show that the problem was not that it was newly established and needed a ‘grace period’ for policy actors to assimilate it. Barriers are primarily erected because gender mainstreaming is infiltrated by feminist concerns suggesting fundamental changes in ways of thinking and understanding society. Gender mainstreaming can potentially challenge and transform gender-biased public policies. However, this policy goal interferes and clashes with other dominant policy frames of the EU based on hierarchical gender distribution of power. (Stratigaki, 2005: 15, emphasis in the original) Therefore, at the point of departure for the implementation of gender mainstreaming a sound problem diagnosis is often not available, the concrete link between diagnosis and policy objectives may be weak, with policy objectives being in themselves ambiguous and the larger policy environment may not be in favour of fundamentally altering prevailing gender relations when this collides with other policy priorities. An analysis of the routine practice of policy-making also reveals many of the constraints directly related to the implementation process. For example, in 2001 each minister of the federal Belgian government set a policy objective in order to mainstream a gender perspective and to promote gender equality within his or her competencies (Service public fédéral Emploi, Travail et Concertation sociale et al., 2002). Despite the doubling of the initial timeframe from one to two years, many of the

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objectives were not met. A major reason resided in the clash between the need for a transversal approach and the sector-based reality of the Belgian (federal) policy making structure. The clash between the horizontal approach of gender mainstreaming and vertical structures leads to a dependency on third actors not involved in a vertical dependency relationship. The making operational, implementation or follow-up of the gender mainstreaming objectives often turned out to be the responsibility of another authority. This could be a regional or local authority but meeting the objectives set could also come under the competencies of another Minister and hence another vertical power structure. This was further complicated by the fact that the putting into operation and implementation of the objectives was generally attributed to actors at a low level in the hierarchy, which made it difficult for them to have an impact on external actors on whom they depended for meeting the objectives (Plasman and Sissoko, 2004). This problem is the more succinct in multi-level systems involving a supranational level. For instance, EU policies on structural funds have to be implemented by national and regional authorities within the member states (Rossili, 2000). Rubery (2002) shows that policy areas requiring change in the workplace have generated but a limited government involvement, most of it being left to the discretion of the social partners. The weakness or lack of interest of the trade unions to advocate substantive change in existing gender relations led to the issue being left as the employers’ sole responsibility. Existing problems of implementation are further amplified by the fact that gender mainstreaming policies often rely on soft policy tools: targets, benchmarking, discretionary guidelines, (informal) codes of practice, and the exchange of good practice. As the name indicates, soft policy tools do not have a compelling character. They are malleable and rarely require justification. Even though their malleable character facilitates testing, learning and adaptation of the tools and instruments, they are relatively ineffective when it comes to fostering or enforcing change in a hostile environment (Mazey, 2002). Also, gender mainstreaming cannot rely on many procedural blueprints or cut-and-dried tools and instruments on how to implement it. This increases the relatively large discretion of policy-makers to render it operational and to implement it (Liebert, 2002). In sum, in many cases vague policy objectives regarding gender equality go hand in hand with a considerable amount of discretion when it comes to making them operational and implementation in a gender mainstreaming approach. The first problem is external to the implementation process of gender mainstreaming and goes for public policies in

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general. The second problem is directly related to the implementation process, but is to a large part specific to the horizontal approach and relative newness of gender mainstreaming. The point is that the different problems mutually reinforce each other. A tighter implementation process with the necessary expertise at its disposal could more easily absorb and counterbalance problems external to the implementation process itself. Implementation problems due to a large amount of discretion would have less importance in cases where there is better problem analysis, a more direct relationship between cause and effect and more substantive priority awarded to the achievement of gender equality.

Conclusion The concept of gender mainstreaming promises a lot and it raises high expectations, but it is also a very demanding task. In this respect, the conceptualisation of gender mainstreaming itself is a source of possible deception when it comes to results. What is considered to be a success or failure depends to a large extent on the definition of the goal to be achieved. However, contrasting the prerequisites for gender mainstreaming with what are considered to be sufficient conditions for an effective implementation of public policies, shows that gender mainstreaming shares the typical external constraints affecting the implementation of public policies but that it also faces particular internal ones. Furthermore, contrasting such ideal conditions with everyday practices of policy-making shows that the different problems related to the implementation of gender mainstreaming mutually reinforce each other. This conclusion puts the problem of the weak implementation and outcomes of gender mainstreaming policies into perspective. The problems observed in (the implementation of) gender equality policies should not be overestimated or all defined as being due to the issue at stake, namely the achievement of gender equality. A distinction should be made between implementation problems related to gender equality issues and those related to the implementation of public policies in general. Hence, the question of why political decisions about gender equality measures so often become watered down or forgotten when they reach the implementation stage, can be easily answered pointing at the fact that the same applies to many public policies. But yes, part of the problems in implementation is due to the fact that the issue is about gender equality. The question then arises what can be done about it. What can we learn from the present state of the art for thinking further on gender mainstreaming, both in theoretical and in political terms?

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It might be important to focus not so much on the lack of material results or their weakness. Instead, we should re-orient our focus on the policy-making process itself and how it works, as research is starting to do to a growing extent. In order to achieve a better implementation of gender mainstreaming we need to know precisely how the process works and what mechanisms play a role in it. This approach implies that we do not so much start with the ideal conditions and see to what extent they are fulfilled but rather focus on institutional practices and see what we can learn from them. Within this context it is also important to distinguish between the different stages of the policy-making process. It is true that the conditions for the implementation of public policies are partly products of what has happened before. It is also impossible to draw general conclusions because so much depends on the larger political system, on bureaucratic traditions and cultures, on specific policy issues. Policy problems are not only related to issues but also to specific contexts. But it is important to be able to locate precisely the causes of implementation problems. For instance, the clear and unambiguous articulation of gender mainstreaming objectives is not underlined as much in the literature as the need for political support or necessary resources. Research can and should play a crucial role in analysing gender mainstreaming processes because the evaluation of public policies and policy-making processes still receives less attention than it needs in order to be effective. All this will help us clarify the conditions favourable for a substantive implementation of gender mainstreaming, which will favour its concrete implementation in everyday policies.

Notes 1. With special thanks to Theo Jans and to Anne Maria Holli for their very helpful comments and suggestions. 2. Lombardo (2005) does not clarify the precise link between a shift towards parity democracy as an equal participation of both sexes in political decision-making and gender mainstreaming. Parity democracy could actually be seen as one of the outcomes of gender mainstreaming, because gender mainstreaming is a tool to achieve substantive equality. Substantive equality implies an equal share of power between men and women. It is however arguable whether there needs to be a shift from a minimum presence to an equal share of women in political decision-making in order to be able to speak of gender mainstreaming. Lombardo is not alone in underlining the need for a sharing of power between the sexes and gender mainstreaming (see, for instance, Council of Europe, 1998). 3. Increasing the number of actors involved in the achievement of gender equality also raises the possibility that actors favourable to gender equality but traditionally not involved in such issues receive a platform for action.

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References Benschop, Y. and Verloo, M. (2000) ‘Geen roos zonder doornen. Reflecties op gender mainstreaming’, Tijdschrift voor Genderstudies, 3: 23–32. Booth, C. and Bennett, C. (2002) ‘Gender Mainstreaming in the European Union. Towards a New Conception and Practice of Equal Opportunities?’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 9: 430–46. Bretherton, C. (2001) ‘Gender Mainstreaming and EU Enlargement: Swimming against the Tide?’, Journal of European Public Policy, 8: 60–81. Bustelo, M. (2003) ‘Evaluation of Gender Mainstreaming’, Evaluation, 9: 383–403. Council of Europe (1998) Gender Mainstreaming. Conceptual Framework, Methodology and Presentation of Good Practice, Strasbourg: Council of Europe. Hill, M. and Hupe, P. (2002) Implementing Public Policy: Governance in Theory and Practice, London: Sage. Hogwood, B. W. and Gunn, L. A. (1984) Policy Analysis for the Real World, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jahan, R. (1995) The Elusive Agenda: Mainstreaming Women in Development, London: Zed Books. Krizsán, A. et al. (2004) Domestic Violence: Women’s Problem?, Paper for the 2nd Pan-European Conference on EU Politics of the ECPR Standing Group on the EU, Bologna: 24–26 June. Liebert, U. (2002) ‘Europeanising Gender Mainstreaming: Constraints and Opportunities in the Multilevel Euro-Polity’, Feminist Legal Studies, 10: 241–56. Lombardo, E. (2003) ‘EU Gender Policy: Trapped in the “Wollstonecraft Dilemma”?’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 10: 159–80. Lombardo, E. (2005) ‘Mainstreaming Gender Equality in the European Constitution-Making Policy’, in J. Schonlau et al. (eds), The Making of the European Constitution, Basingstoke: Macmillan. Mazey, S. (2000) ‘Introduction: Integrating Gender – Intellectual and “Real World” Mainstreaming’, Journal of European Public Policies, 7: 333–45. Mazey, S. (2002) ‘Gender Mainstreaming Strategies in the EU: Delivering on an Agenda?’, Feminist Legal Studies, 10: 227–40. Meier, P. et al. (2004) ‘Women in Political Decision-making and Gender Mainstreaming: Obvious Partners?’, Paper for the 2nd Pan-European Conference on EU Politics of the ECPR Standing Group on the EU, Bologna: 24–26 June. Nelen, S. (2000) ‘Mainstreaming als “nieuwe” strategie inzake gelijkekansenbeleid: wondermiddel of verdwijntruc? Een bestuurskundige benadering van mainstreaming’ Tijdschrift voor Genderstudies, 3: 33–42. Nelen, S. and Hondeghem, A. (2000) ‘Een beleid op weg. Situering van het gelijke-kansenbeleid in België’ Tijdschrift voor Genderstudies, 3: 36–48. Plasman, R. and Sissoko, S. (2004) Belgium: Analysis of Policy Context and Policies. Equapol: Gender-sensitive and Women-friendly Public Policies: A Comparative Analysis of Their Progress and Impact, Brussels: DULBEA ULB. Pollack, M. and Hafner-Burton, E. (2000) ‘Mainstreaming Gender in the European Union’, Journal of European Public Policy, 7: 432–56. Rees, T. (1998) Mainstreaming Equality in the European Union: Education, Training, and Labour Market Policies, New York: Routledge. Rossili, M. (ed.) (2000) Gender Policies in the European Union, New York: Peter Lang.

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Rubery, J. (2002) ‘Gender Mainstreaming and Gender Equality in the EU: The Impact of the EU Employment Strategy’, Industrial Relations Journal, 33: 500–22. Service public fédéral Emploi, Travail et Concertation sociale et al. (2002) Rapport final Projet Cellule Mainstreamingi, Brussels: Service public fédéral Emploi, Travail et Concertation sociale. Service public fédéral Emploi, Travail et Concertation sociale et al. (2003) Rapport final Projet Cellule Mainstreaming, Brussels: Service public fédéral Emploi, Travail et Concertation sociale. Stetson, D. and Mazur, A. (1995) Comparative State Feminism, London: Sage. Stratigaki, M. (2004) ‘The Cooptation of Gender Concepts in EU Policies: The Case of “Reconciliation of Work and Family”’, Social Politics, 11: 30–56. Stratigaki, M. (2005) ‘Gender Mainstreaming versus Positive Action: An On-going Conflict in EU Gender Equality Policy’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 12 (2): 165–86. True, J. (2003) ‘Mainstreaming Gender in Global Public Policy’, International Feminist Journal of Politics, 5: 368–96. Verloo, M. (2001) Another Velvet Revolution? Gender Mainstreaming and the Politics of Implementation, IWM Working Paper No. 5/2001, Vienna: IWM. Verloo, M. et al. (2004) ‘Framing the Organisation of Intimacy as a Policy Problem across Europe’, Paper for the 2nd Pan-European Conference on EU Politics of the ECPR Standing Group on the EU, Bologna: 24–26 June. Walby, S. (2004) ‘Gender Mainstreaming: Productive Tensions in Theory and Practice’, Contribution to ESRC Gender Mainstreaming Seminars, University of Leeds. Woodward, A. (2003) ‘European Gender Mainstreaming: Promises and Pitfalls of Transformative Policy’, Review of Policy Research, 20: 65–88.

10 Good Governance and Good for Business Too? Equality and Diversity in Britain Judith Squires

In this chapter I want to argue that where the pursuit of gender equality in Britain was previously framed by arguments for social justice and inclusive citizenship – but limited in focus to the labour market – it is now increasingly addressed as part of a wider ‘equality and diversity’ strategy, framed by arguments for economic productivity and applied widely to all aspects of social, economic and political citizenship. I want to suggest, via an exploration of both gender mainstreaming and diversity management in Britain and the EU, that whilst both mainstreaming and diversity have theoretical appeal to radical political democrats and theorists, they are conceived, defended and implemented in ways that aim to appeal to business sector interests. Although quite different in their derivation, both the diversity and mainstreaming discourses share certain features. Both are increasingly framed by considerations of good governance and economic competitiveness such that they marginalise broader issues of social justice and egalitarian citizenship.

Women and political decision-making The British public is sceptical about the idea of positive action in pursuit of gender equality and is more comfortable with the idea of equal opportunities for all. Researchers have found that when asked to speak of gender equality people use the language of ‘fairness’, ‘tolerance’ and ‘having the same chances in life’ (Howard and Tibballs, 2003: 7). There is little support for the idea that women, as a group, are unequal in society today and sex inequality was not seen as a priority issue. The concept of feminism is seen virtually unanimously in negative terms as old-fashioned. 199

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However many people (and young women in particular) liked the idea of promoting ‘women’s rights’ (Howard and Tibballs, 2003). The implications of this approach to equality can perhaps be seen most clearly in relation to debates about women’s political representation. Whilst the political parties each have their own doctrines and ethos within this, generating discursive controversies regarding the pursuit of representative gender equality, the basic citizenship practices of the British polity operate within a liberal discursive frame that privileges formal equality of opportunity. Parties that embrace the ideal of minimal equality of opportunity (Swift, 2001: 91–132), including the Conservatives and the Liberal Democrats, have eschewed the use of gender quotas, choosing to affirm the ideals of meritocracy and individual opportunities. As Ian Duncan Smith, the then leader of the Conservatives, stated: ‘All-women shortlists have not been a success for Labour, because instead of getting people who are high quality, what we’ve actually got in is people who haven’t really performed as politicians for the Labour Party’ (Perkins, 2001). Employing a similar discursive frame, the Liberal Democrats rejected a motion at their 2001 conference for all-women shortlists. Delegates argued that the shortlists proposal was ‘illiberal and unworkable’, depriving local parties of their ability to choose the most able candidate and making women into ‘tokens’. As a woman from the Lib Dem Youth and Students group argued: ‘The proposers are telling me I cannot fulfil my dream of becoming an MP without this motion. They underestimate me’ (Ward, 2001). Parties that adopt a more radical conception of equality of opportunity (Swift, 2002), such as the Labour Party, have been more willing to adopt gender quotas. The Labour Party has long been characterised by a commitment to equality, though this commitment has always been accompanied by intra-party debates as to whether equality should be understood as equality of opportunity, equality of income or equality of regard (see Drucker, 1979: 45–67). None the less, arguments for positive action measures regarding women’s representation were consonant with certain equality discourses that had a clear lineage within the Party. This commitment to equality of presence within the Party was manifest in the General Secretary’s statement to the 2002 conference: ‘My personal ambition is to see equal representation for women at all levels of public office. I believe the party should adopt measures that ensure the selection of more women candidates and if that means all-women shortlists, then that’s what we should do’ (Treisman, 2002). So gender quotas are discursively constructed as one particular solution to the problem of gender inequality in relation to public participation in parliamentary politics, but one that appears to its critics to rely on a

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problematic conception of equality of outcome that undermines the pursuit of justice as ‘fairness’ (Wolff, 1998). Moreover, concern about the possible essentialism implied by quota policies, coupled with scepticism that there is a link between descriptive and substantive representation, means that arguments for quotas in Britain have tended to focus on a ‘justice’ argument, rather than arguments that women’s interests remain unfulfilled or that democracy is likely to become atrophied (Phillips, 1995: 62–3). The justice argument implies that numerically equal representation of women and men in legislatures is itself an indication of parity, regardless of the beliefs of those present or the policies enacted. Given the ongoing discursive controversies surrounding notions of equality, it is unsurprising that gender quotas remain controversial in Britain. The implementation of gender quotas initially took the form of a Labour Party policy to require all-women shortlists in half of all winnable seats in the 1997 general election. Following devolution, quota policies – in the form of twinning and zipping – were also adopted by the Scottish and Welsh Labour Parties. The two nationalist parties, the Scottish Nationalist Party and Plaid Cymru, also implemented zipping. Implementation proved difficult in Westminster elections given the majoritarian electoral system that operates with single-member constituencies and a first-past-the-post formula for determining electoral success. The policy of all-women shortlists was devised as a way of implementing party-based gender candidate quotas within a majoritarian electoral system. The key challenge to its implementation has proven to be incumbency (the difficulty of displacing sitting MPs) and resistance from constituency selection committees. Implementation was complicated, but also dramatically facilitated, by the devolution process, which allowed parties to develop different quota systems appropriate to the mixed electoral system introduced in Scotland and Wales. It allowed Scottish and Welsh parties to implement zipping on regional lists. It also allowed for the creation of a new quota strategy appropriate to the newly established assemblies with no incumbent representatives, ‘twinning’. Implementation was further complicated by the legal uncertainty surrounding gender quotas following a ruling in 1996 that all-women shortlists contravened equal opportunity employment legislation. This uncertainty was later removed by the passing of the Sex Discrimination (Election Candidates) Bill in February 2002, which allowed parties to introduce positive action policies without risk of legal challenge. As a consequence of the all-women shortlists and twinning policies Britain has witnessed a dramatic rise in the overall numbers of women present in national legislatures since 1997. This increase is due in large part to the policies of a single party – the Labour Party – which has

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gained a large proportion of the overall vote during this period. However, the other major political parties (Conservatives and Liberal Democrats) have neither followed the Labour Party in introducing gender quotas, nor substantially increased the numbers of women elected within their party (see Krook, Lovenduski, and Squires, 2005; Squires, 2005 for further details). This suggests that gender equality is still primarily conceived in Britain in terms of formal equality of opportunity. However, there have been significant new developments in the way in which New Labour has approached gender equality policies and institutions.

Gender mainstreaming Whereas the under-representation of women in Westminster represents the most identifiable area of concentrated work by feminist political scientists in British politics (Mackay, 2004: 99–100), New Labour’s commitment to gender mainstreaming has been subject to little analysis. None the less, there have been important developments in relation to the establishment of a ‘gender machinery’, which is responsible for gender mainstreaming and this is an increasingly important aspect of gender equality policies in Britain. The UK government adopted gender mainstreaming as its gender policy in 1998 (Cabinet Office, 1998) and since then has been developing a series of policy instruments to implement this policy. Its approach to gender mainstreaming is perhaps best exemplified through the work of the Women and Equality Unit (WEU) (see Beveridge et al., 2000; Squires and Wickham-Jones, 2002, 2004). The Women’s Unit (WU) was established in June 1997, following Tony Blair’s landslide election victory. The Unit was charged with scrutinising legislation to promote sexual equality and with promoting femalefriendly policies. A WU publication stated: ‘At the centre of its work is the drive to put women’s interests into the mainstream of government policy, including for civil servants through guidance and training’ (WU, 1998: 25). Emphasising the different roles of the unit, including policymaking and consultation, Harriet Harman was quoted: ‘For the first time, women’s issues are put firmly at the heart of government. I will open a new dialogue with women’ (Ward, 1997). In November 1998, New Labour’s commitment to mainstreaming was formalised with the publication of ‘Policy appraisal for equal treatment’ guidelines. The guidelines stated, ‘We must understand how policy can have a different impact on different groups in society’ (Cabinet Office, PAET guidelines, 1998). The guidelines offered advice to civil servants

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on how to monitor the impact of policy proposal through the collection of data, consultation, assessment, and, if necessary, action. Civil servants should not assume that policy measures were gender-neutral: gender impact assessment challenges the assumption that policies and service affect everyone in the same way. It puts people at the heart of policy-making and leads to better government by making gender equality issues visible in the mainstream of society. (Cabinet Office, 1998) The WU would provide advice on the implementation of the guidelines. In 1999 the Unit carried out a large-scale consultation exercise, ‘Listening to Women’: ‘Government has never communicated with women in this way before. We will circulate our findings in the autumn to all parts of the government so that they can use them in their own policy making and will develop women specific guidelines for service providers’ (Prime Minister and Minister for the Cabinet Office, 1999: 27). This exercise was followed with further research and the publication that year of a magazine, Voices, aimed at disseminating information to women. The Unit also organised consultations with women’s groups in civil society, including the Women’s National Commission. Originally, the WU lacked resources and was poorly integrated into Whitehall policy-making (see Squires and Wickham-Jones, 2004: 81–99). It was also subject to criticism by women’s organisations and the press (Perkins, 1999). As a result many commentators predicted the demise of the WU before the June 2001 general election (Hinsliff, 2000). However, the WU was not abolished: it was restructured as the Women and Equality Unit. As such it took responsibility for policy on gender equality issues (‘coordinating policy on women and gender equality issues’, Cabinet Office, 12 July 2001), including the sex discrimination act and equal pay. The Unit’s remit was to improve the position of women in ‘measurable’ ways and to promote equality generally regardless of gender or sexual orientation. The WEU announced five priorities: reducing the pay gap, work life balance, women in public life, domestic violence and public services. In May 2002, the WEU was moved from the Cabinet Office to the Department of Trade and Industry. In the same month the government announced its intention to abolish the separate commissions for race equality, disability rights and women’s opportunities and replace them with a single equalities body. Angela Mason, formally executive director of Stonewall (which campaigns for gay and diversity rights) was appointed as the new Director of the Unit in November 2002. She is a strong advocate

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of the creation of a single equality body (Pink Paper, issue 738, 24 May 2002) and is currently overseeing the development of the WEU into an Equality Unit. These developments have subsequently worked to redefine the mainstreaming project in Britain, which is increasingly focused on the labour market and bound up with the pursuit of economic productivity, and is also now framed as part of a wider ‘equality and diversity’ agenda.

Equality and diversity In October 2002 the government launched ‘The Equality Institutions Review’, which it described as ‘the most significant review of equality in over a quarter of a century’. As part of the review it produced various consultation documents, including Equality and Diversity: Making it Happen, which explored long-term options for the priorities and role of equality institutions in Great Britain, and invited responses from end-users, businesses, service-providers and equality experts. The government announced, on 30 October 2003, its plans to establish a single Commission for Equality and Human Rights (CEHR). The White Paper ‘Fairness for All’ states that the role of the CEHR will be to bring together work related to several different aspects of equality, including age, sexual orientation, disability, race, religion and gender. Government affirmations of this new integrated approach to equality emphasise the importance of respecting diversity as well as promoting equality: the government’s consultation paper on the Single Equality Body was, for example, entitled ‘Equality and Diversity: Making it Happen’. This discourse is also prevalent throughout the wider society: 2002 saw the formation of The ‘Equality and Diversity Forum’ to promote dialogue across the equality strands; the Learning and Skills Council offers ‘Equality and Diversity Guidance’; Advisory, Conciliation and Arbitration Service (ACAS) has ‘equality and diversity advisers’; major banks have ‘equality and diversity strategies’ and most universities now have ‘equality and diversity teams’. The establishment of the CEHR will further institutionalise the ‘equality and diversity’ discourse that has emerged so swiftly onto the British policy agenda. In 2003 the European Commission also launched a five-year, EU-wide information campaign, ‘For Diversity – Against Discrimination’, aiming to ‘promote the positive benefits of diversity’ (EC Green Paper, 2004: 13). This provides the framework for an integrated equality strategy ‘based on the premise that equal treatment and respect for diversity are in the interests of society as a whole’ (EC Green Paper, 2004: 10). This indicates that

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the pursuit of equality is now increasingly held to entail a respect for diversity, both in the EU and in Westminster. The equality consultation and current plans for a new Commission, whilst perhaps consonant with New Labour’s wider policy commitments and political ideals, were in large part instigated in response to directives from Europe (in particular Article 13 of the Employment Directive) which extend the grounds for protection against discrimination in employment and training to include sexual orientation and religion by 2003 and age by 2006. In light of these Directives the government has had to consider how best to widen existing equality legislation and remits of the three existing equality commissions. These new directives gave an added impetus to long-standing calls to review the equality legislation in operation in Britain, which is a complex patchwork of piecemeal legislation introduced largely in response to previous European directives. The principles of equal treatment and non-discrimination are at the heart of the European Social Model and gender equality in particular has long been recognised as one of the EU’s core objectives (see Rossilli, 2000). The founding European Treaties include a right to non-discrimination on the ground of sex. Various Treaty revisions subsequently advanced more specific principle of gender equality (Bell, 2005). The EC Treaty right to equal pay for women and men was strengthened, most notably to include the concept of equal pay for work of equal value (EC, 1975, Art. 141(1)). Protection for positive action was incorporated (Art. 141(4)) and a duty to ‘promote equality between men and women’ in all activities was inserted (Art. 3(2)). The non-discrimination employment Directives issued by the European Union following the adoption of Article 13 of the Nice Treaty 1997, focusing in particular on the EU Directives on Racial Equality and Employment Equality in 2000 and the following community action programme to combat discrimination, 2001–6 (Beveridge and Nott, 2002; Hoskyns, 2000; Rees, 2002). As Jo Shaw states: Gender equality – initially in the limited form of a guarantee of equal pay for equal work of equal value for women and men, and subsequently in the form of a more wide-ranging equal treatment principle applying to all aspects of employment and training, and most aspects of welfare – is deeply rooted in the EC and EU Treaties, in legislation, and in an extensive case law of the Court of Justice. (Shaw, 2005: 1) In the context of both the EU’s particular commitment to gender equality, and also the distinctly British focus on race equality, the Labour

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governments of the 1970s introduced equality laws designed to remedy discrimination on the basis of both sex and race: The Equal Pay Act 1970, the Sex Discrimination Act 1975 (SDA), the Race Relations Act 1976 and the Fair Employment (Northern Ireland) Act 1976. The Equal Opportunities Commission (EOC) and Commission for Racial Equality (CRE) were established to uphold these laws. More recently this twin focus on sex and race in Britain’s equality laws was augmented by a newer focus on disability. The Disability Discrimination Act was introduced in 1995 and the Disability Rights Commission (DRC) established in 2000. The introduction of further new equality legislation – The Employment Equality (Sexual Orientation) Regulations 2003 and the Employment Equality (Religion or Belief) Regulations 2003 – implement other European Employment Directives which outlaw discrimination on grounds of sexual orientation, religion or belief, disability and age in employment and vocational training. This piecemeal approach of using European directives to update UK equality laws has created a complicated array of equality laws. Equality is presently addressed by a patchwork of at least 30 Acts of Parliament, 38 Statutory Instruments, 11 Codes of Practice, 12 EC Directives, and further complicated by the devolution statutes of 1998–9. The sheer complexity of this legislative framework is itself a source of inequality. As Julie Mellor, then chair of the EOC, argued: ‘Britain’s equality laws are in a mess. Inconsistent and incomplete, they offer different levels of protection for different groups and none at all for others’ (Mellor, 2002). However, the announcement of the intention to create the new Commission came without mention of a single Equality Act. Announcing the plans for the new Commission, Patricia Hewitt (Trade and Industry Secretary and Minister for Women) claimed that the new CEHR would ‘give greater support and more joined-up advice to individuals, businesses and communities to crackdown on discrimination, and promote equality and diversity’ (Hewitt, 2003). She continued: ‘Tackling discrimination in the twenty-first century requires a joined-up approach that puts equality in the mainstream of concerns. As individuals, our identities are diverse, complex and multi-layered. People don’t see themselves as solely a woman, or black, or gay and neither should our equality organizations’. The pragmatic motivation to create a single Equality Commission was clearly greater than the motivation to streamline the existing equality legislation. As Barbara Roche (then Deputy Minister for Women) stated, when announcing the consultation: ‘We cannot have six separate commissions dealing with six separate strands’ (Roche, 2002). Many of those

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engaged in the consultation agreed with this: with both the EOC and CRE initially offering tentative support for the idea of a single equality body, the DRC articulating the most anxiety about the plans (as the most newly established and highly funded of the Commissions) and advocates of the three ‘new strands’ welcoming the proposal with enthusiasm. However, as the Task Force set up to establish the remit and structure of the Commission developed its proposals, tensions and antagonisms grew. In July 2004 the Commission for Racial Equality announced its ‘unequivocal rejection’ of the merger of the three existing commissions. A spokesperson said: ‘The CRE isn’t in support of a Commission for Equality and Human Rights when racial issues are at the top of the political agenda’ (Blackstock, 2004). This suggests that the ‘equality and diversity’ discourse deployed by both the EU and the British government is meeting stiff resistance in some quarters from equality professionals committed to a prior group discrimination discourse. The EOC, on the other hand, appears to have embraced the ‘diversity’ agenda that underpins the proposed creation of the CEHR wholeheartedly, stating on its website that: The EOC is committed to challenging discrimination in all its forms, particularly racism, and at an institutional level. We will positively promote diversity and equality of opportunity, recognising that we are here to serve a diverse and multi-racial society. We are committed to the view that organisations make better decisions if they are truly representative of the wider community. Our ambition is to understand and respond to the needs of all women and men, which we can only do if we are sensitive to differences of sex, race, disability, sexual orientation, age and religion, and free of discrimination as an employer and contractor. (http://www.eoc.org.uk/cseng/abouteoc/equalityscheme.asp) Institutionally, it is the EOC that has been most proactive in facilitating the government’s attempt to establish the CEHR, with its equalities remit. This signals the extent to which the issue of gender equality has been subsumed in Britain within the wider ‘equality and diversity’ discourse. It is therefore particularly important to interrogate the framing and limitations of both gender mainstreaming and ‘equality and diversity’ discourses, as each represent new ways of engaging with gender equality issues. Mark Bell points out that a ‘patchwork of models’ of equality has emerged in the context of EU equality law and policy (Bell, 2003: 91–110).

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However, whilst many gender theorists have viewed EU equality policies as comprising three key phases – equal treatment, positive action and gender mainstreaming (Rees, 2002: 48; Booth and Bennett, 2002) – Bell views the patchwork as comprising three main strands: formal equality as antidiscrimination, substantive equality as positive action, and managing diversity (Bell, 2003: 91–110). Whilst there is agreement about the multiplicity of approaches to equality within the EU, some focus on gender mainstreaming as the most recent development, others on diversity management. In fact both are probably right: both gender mainstreaming and managing diversity have emerged as central elements of the EU equality agenda, at more or less the same time, but apparently unconnected – both conceptually and institutionally (see Squires, 2005 on the former; and Shaw, 2004 on the latter). Both the concept and practice of EU gender mainstreaming has been extensively researched in recent years (see Hafner-Burton and Pollack, 2000; Mazey, 2000; Verloo, 2001; Beveridge and Nott, 2002; Booth and Bennett, 2002; Rees, 2002; Rubery, 2002; Jacquot, 2003; Lombardo, 2003; Walby 2004. See also Meier, in this volume). However, as Jo Shaw rightly notes, ‘the concept of diversity has played generally a much more hidden (and less intensively studied) role in the development of EU law’ (Shaw, 2005: 2). As a result, there is little sustained reflection on what ‘diversity mainstreaming’ might entail (though see Hankivsky, 2005; Squires, 2005; and Shaw, 2005). More generally, there has been surprisingly little analysis of the derivation and implications of the ‘diversity management’ emerging from the EU.

Good governance Both gender mainstreaming and diversity managements might perhaps be understood as two elements in a new form of governance, which is emerging as an institutional response to globalisation. Lewis and Giullari, for instance, suggest that the Open Method of Co-ordination is a ‘new form of governance’ that emerges in parallel with a linkage of economic and social policy (Lewis and Giullari, 2005: 80). Within this mode of governance hard instruments, such as Directives, are replaced by common objectives and performance indicators. This Open Method of Co-ordination shares many core features with both gender mainstreaming and with New Labour’s commitment to ‘joined-up government’. All are emergent forms of governance that are associated with the horizontal co-ordination of policy making in the name of efficiency, and all are presented as part of the process of modernisation.

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Significantly, gender mainstreaming has been most successful in Whitehall where it has been depicted as a part of the government’s wider commitment to ‘modernisation’. Within the New Labour lexicon, as Alan Finlayson has shown, ‘modernisation’ ‘is an “up” word, that makes things sound exciting, progressive and positive … [Its] usage helps generate an appearance of structured and unified thinking … It helps to render “natural” and un-contestable that which is not necessarily so’ (Finlayson: 2003: 67). It is used most frequently in relation to public sector reform, ushering in what Stuart Hall has called ‘the new managerialism’ (Hall, 2003: 16). As part of its modernising agenda, on its election to office in May 1997, Labour promised to reform the machinery of government. A central feature of this modernisation, the administration argued, was the introduction of ‘joined-up government’. This notion was based on the conclusion that too often policy initiatives were constrained by departmental boundaries. The way that individual departments interpreted responsibilities meant that proposals were not assessed in their full context. Richards and Smith conclude: ‘The notion is that the policy arena has become a more crowded environment with numerous actors competing for political space, so the government’s ability to maintain some semblance of control has been curtailed’ (Richards and Smith, 2001: 6, 239–50). Whilst problems frequently require more than one department in the design of any solution, the departmental system is ‘administratively and culturally illequipped to reconcile conflicting departmental objectives or encourage cross-cutting policy formation’ (Flinders, 2002). As Tony Blair noted: ‘Government is organised vertically, with departments based on the function they perform … But people’s problems are rarely so neat’ (Blair, speech ‘Modernising Public Services’, 26 January 1999). He suggested that joined-up government, side-stepping departmental boundaries (and the differing norms), would overcome the problem (Taylor, 2000: 55–7). One means by which Labour proposed to deliver joined up government was through the establishment of cross-cutting departmental units, including the Women’s Unit. The success of the Unit in its pursuit of mainstreaming is therefore bound up with the success of the broader project of modernising government and pursuing good governance. Similarly the government has depicted the establishment of the CEHR as a part of its wider modernisation process. The Government states that it want ‘the CEHR to contribute to building an inclusive, fair and prosperous society where there is respect for the dignity and worth of every individual, and where no-one is held back by prejudice and discrimination’. It has been concerned to find an institutional form that will allow the CEHR ‘to work in an integrated way across the equality and human

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rights spectrum’, taking an evidence-based approach (DTI, 2004). As with the WEU, the aim is to establish an institutional framework for a form of governance that emphasises horizontal integration, performance indicators and auditing.

Good for business Another shared feature of gender mainstreaming and diversity management has been the extent to which they are both justified with references to a ‘business case’ rather than one of egalitarian citizenship. For instance, the ‘Gender Impact Assessment’ document used in the government’s gender mainstreaming practices is framed by a discussion of ‘Inclusive Policy Making’, which is depicted as part of the government’s programme of public service reform, the ultimate goal of which is to put the consumer first. Here mainstreaming becomes a way of thinking about users as distinct groups with differing needs, characteristics and behaviours, which matters if one is concerned about delivering customer and user satisfaction. In other words, the ‘business case’ for mainstreaming is the case most frequently offered for why equality matters. As the Department for Trade and Industry states on its website: Unfair discrimination in employment is wrong. It is bad for the individuals who are denied jobs and access to vocational training, who suffer victimisation or harassment, because of prejudice. It is bad for the businesses which are denying themselves access to the widest pool of talent and not sharing in the benefits – such as increased motivation, lower turnover of staff, and access to wider markets – that a diverse workforce and effective equality policies can bring. (http://www.dti.gov.uk) Meanwhile, Barbara Roche told an Institute for Public Policy Research conference that equality and diversity ‘are good for business too’ (Roche, 15 May 2002). A couple of months later she asserted: ‘The benefits of realising this [equality] agenda are enormous, not just for individuals but for Britain as a whole. And the business for diversity is becoming harder to resist as a diverse workforce [brought forward by equality] gives employers a competitive edge’ (Roche, 15 July 2002). At an economic summit held in May 2003, Patricia Hewitt argued that there is a business case for companies to pursue gender equality in the workplace. The debate focussed on the impact of women’s participation in the labour force on the UK’s productivity. Subsequently the Department

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of Trade and Industry (DTI) produced a leaflet entitled ‘The Business Case for Diversity and Equality’ in which it put forward the case for diversity in terms of the need for business to respond to the fact of increasingly competitive and mobile labour markets by treating its employees fairly to retain their services, and in terms of the potential for businesses to ‘identify more closely with its customer base’ by employing more women, more older people and encouraging a wider ethnic mix (DTI, 2004). In a country with a diverse population, in which ‘every single person is a potential business customer’ it stands to reason ‘that businesses with a diverse workforce are likely … to provide a more tailored service to meet individual needs.’ They are also likely to improve recruitment and retention, staff morale and performance (DTI, 2004: 2). All of which suggests that gender equality in Britain is now primarily conceived in terms of the extent to which the pursuit of ‘equality and diversity’ will facilitate social inclusion in paid employment. Even recent research into domestic violence, commissioned by the WEU and written by notable British feminist academic, is approached in terms of its economic consequences. As the WEU ‘Interim Findings’ document states: Two women each week are killed by a partner or former partner, a total of over 100 deaths each year. The cost of the domestic homicide of adult women is an estimated £112 million each year … Domestic violence is a complex social problem with devastating consequences. It drains the resources of public and voluntary services and of employers and causes pain and distress to women and their families. The purpose of providing a figure for the ‘cost’ of domestic violence is to more clearly show its importance, by finding a way of translating these hardships into a common unit of account. (WEU, 2003) That the common unit of account is financial, is of course not surprising. Analyses of New Labour’s approach to equality have focused attention on the refusal to overtly address economic inequalities. It has focused instead on ‘social inclusion’, which has generally amounted to an injunction to all citizens to become disciplined, productive, paid workers (see Levitas, 1997; Armstrong, 2003). Social inclusion comes to be perceived in this New Labour discourse as both the right and the responsibility to develop marketable skills to perform paid work. As such it becomes a part of the project of creating and maintaining a ‘flexible’ employment market (Armstrong, 2003: 412). Whilst individuals are enjoined to pursue

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economic opportunities as an answer to social exclusion, structural inequalities are left un-interrogated (Levitas, 1997: 7). The meritocratic system generated by a commitment to this conception of equality as inclusion in the labour market is compatible with, and indeed appears to generate, a society with huge disparities in income and status in which a talented elite dominates whilst the disadvantaged are deemed to have failed as a result of their own personal deficiencies. A second significant critique of this framing of equality policies as inclusion in paid employment is to be found in feminist concerns about the emergence of the adult work model, replacing the previously dominant male breadwinner model, in which men took primary responsibility for paid work whilst women were assumed to be responsible for unpaid care work (Lewis, 2001). The rapid increase in female labour market participation has led the government to assume that care work will increasingly move to the formal, paid sector (Lewis and Giullari, 2005: 77). This extends the logic of the market into a sphere previously governed by an informal care logic, which is a cause of anxiety for many commentators (see Duncan and Edwards, 1999). Employment growth is also seen as a key social policy goal at the EU level. Here too participation in the paid labour market is viewed as a means of promoting both social inclusion and economic competitiveness (Lewis and Giullari, 2005: 79). The 1993 White Paper of the Commission on growth and competitiveness made precisely this case, and identified the care sector as a source of new jobs. This approach assumes a direct linkage between economic and social policy, whereby ‘social policies are justified in terms of the social investment that is necessary to sustain competition and growth’ (Lewis and Giullari, 2005: 80). This suggests that at both a European and British level the pursuit of gender equality is increasingly framed by a strategy of social inclusion, which is itself viewed as a means to a greater economic productivity. In this way, gender equality policies are to be viewed in the context of a neo-liberal trade agenda, which seeks to establish frames for trade and investment at the regional and national level in the context of the global political economy (Gamble and Payne, 1996). It is, of course, the case that a concern with multiple equality ‘strands’ resonates with the theoretical work on ‘intersectionality’ articulated most clearly by black feminists (see Hill Collins, 1990), and with wider cultural and political changes in the 1990s, including the expansion of gay and lesbian politics, the growth of the disability rights movement, and the increasing tensions surrounding multiculturalism and antiracism (see Cooper, 2004). In this context ‘diversity politics’ is associated with a radical democratic political agenda, which seeks to engage with

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the ‘claims of culture’ and the ‘strange multiplicity’ of our global era (see Benhabib, 2002; Young, 2000). And yet, it is also worth noting that ‘managing diversity’ strategies were also promoted by business sector human resource managers in the United States from the mid 1990s (see Kandola and Fullerton, 1998; Kirton and Greene, 2000; Harvard Business Review, 2001). Diversity initiatives are widely argued amongst human resource managers in the business sector to improve the quality of organisations’ workforces and act as a catalyst for a better return on companies’ investment in human capital. They are also argued to help businesses to capitalise on new markets, attract the best and the brightest employees, increase creativity, and keep the organisation flexible (see Cartwright, 2001). The 1998 Society for Human Resource Management ‘Survey of Diversity Initiatives’ found that 84 per cent of human resource professionals at Fortune 500 companies said that their top-level executives thought ‘diversity management’ to be important, reflecting the current corporate emphasis on diversity policies as an important complement to equal opportunity policies (Price, 2003). In this context ‘diversity management’ is associated not with radical democratic politics, but with the corporate pursuit of economic productivity.

Conclusion In these ways the early conception of gender equality, manifest in both the EU and in Britain, as equal treatment between men and women primarily within the labour market required by hard instruments such as directives and laws, now seems to be more complex. It now appears to embrace the possibilities of equal treatment, positive action and/or gender mainstreaming strategies; it is conceived at times as focused on equal participation in the labour market, at other times as entailing equal participation in decision-making and public life more widely; and it also appears to straddle both the distinct pursuit of gender equality, and the more inclusive pursuit of ‘equality and diversity’, in which gender is but one strand amongst many. Amongst the complexity of these developments, two key features emerge: the pursuit of equality is bound up with modernisation and the practices of a new form of governance; and the conceptual framing of equality is shifting from a concern with egalitarian citizenship to one of economic productivity.

References Armstrong, C. (2003) ‘Opportunity, Responsibility and the Market: Interrogating Liberal Equality’, Economy and Society, 32 (3): 410–27.

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Bell, M. (2003) ‘The Right to Equality and Non-Discrimination’, in T. Hervey and J. Kenner (eds), Economic and Social Rights under the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights. A Legal Perspective, Oxford: Hart Publishing, pp. 91–110. Bell, M. (2005) ‘The Constitutionalisation of the Principle of Gender Equality’. Paper presented at the European Consortium of Political Research Joint Sessions of Workshops, Granada, 14–18 April. Benhabib, S. (2002) The Claims of Culture: Equality and Diversity in a Global Era, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Beveridge, F. and Nott, S. (2002) ‘Mainstreaming: A Case for Optimism and Cynicism’, Feminist Legal Studies, 10: 299–311. Beveridge, F., Nott, S. and Stephen, K. (2000) ‘Mainstreaming and the Engendering of Policy-Making: A Means to an End?’, Journal of European Public Policy, 21 (4): 361–80. Blackstock, C. (2004) ‘Race Equality Body Rejects Merger’, The Guardian, 22 July 2004. Booth, C. and Bennett, C. (2002) ‘Gender Mainstreaming in the European Union: Towards a New Conception and Practice of Equal Opportunities?’, European Journal of Women’s Studies, 9 (4): 430–46. Cabinet Office (1998) Policy Appraisal for Equal Treatment Guidelines. Available at http://archive.cabinetoffice.gov.uk/servicefirst/2000/joinedup/accesschecklist.htm. Cartwright, R. (2001) Managing Diversity, Oxford: Capstone Express Exec. Cooper, D. (2004) Challenging Diversity, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Drucker, H. M. (1979) Doctrine and Ethos in the Labour Party. London: Allen & Unwin. DTI (2004) Towards Equality and Diversity: Implementing the Employment and Race Directives. http://www.dti.gov.uk/er/equality/consult 1.htm. Duncan, S. and Edwards, R. (1999) Lone Mothers, Paid Work and Gendered Moral Rationalities, London: Macmillan. Finlayson, A. (2003) Making Sense of New Labour, London: Lawrence and Wishart. Flinders, M. (2002) ‘Governance in Whitehall’, Public Administration, 80 (1): 51–75. Gamble, A. and Payne, T. (eds) (1996) Regionalism and World Order, London: Macmillan. Hafner-Burton, E. and Pollack, M. (2000) ‘Mainstreaming Gender in the European Union’, Journal of European Public Policy, 7 (3): 432–56. Hall, S. (2003) ‘New Labour’s Double-Shuffle’, Soundings, 24: 10–25. Hankivsky, O. (2005) ‘Gender Mainstreaming vs. Diversity Mainstreaming: A Preliminary Examination of the Role and Transformative Potential of Feminist Theory’, Canadian Journal of Political Science, December. Harvard Business Review (2001) Managing Diversity, Cambridge, MA: Harvard Business School Press. Hewitt, P. (2003) Statement to Parliament. http://www.womenandequalityunit. gov.uk/equality/project/project.htm. Hill Collins, P. (1990) Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment, Boston: Unwin Hyman. Hinsliff, G. (2000) ‘Now Men are Officially the Under-Dogs’, The Observer, 17 December. Hoskyns, C. (2000) ‘A Study of four Action Programmes in Equal Opportunities’, in M. Rossilli (ed.), Gender Policies in the European Union, New York: Peter Lang. Howard, M. and Tibballs, S. (2003) Talking Equality: What Men and Women Think About Equality in Britain Today, The Future Foundation, Available at:

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http://www.eoc.org.uk/cseng/research/talking%20equality%20report.pdf [accessed 13 May 2005]. Jacquot, S. (2003) ‘Sequences of Policy Change: European Gender Equality Policies and the Emergence of the Gender Mainstreaming Principle, 1989–1996’, Paper presented at the ECPR General Conference, Marburg. Available at: http://www. essex.ac.uk/ecpr/events/generalconference/marburg/participant_search.aspx [accessed 13 May 2005]. Kandola, R. and Fullerton, J. (1998) Diversity in Action: Managing the Mosaic, London: Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development. Kirton, G. and Greene, A-M. (2000) Dynamics of Managing Diversity: A Critical Approach, Oxford: Butterworth-Heinemann. Krook, M. L., Lovenduski, J. and Squires, J. (2005), ‘Western Europe, North America, Australia and New Zealand: Mapping the Debates, Adoption and Implementation of Gender Quotas in the Context of Citizenship Models’, in D. Dahlerup (ed.), Women in Politics: Electoral Quotas, Equality and Democracy. London: Routledge. Levitas, R. (1997) The Inclusive Society? Social Exclusion and New Labour, Basingstoke: Palgrave. Lewis, J. (2001) ‘The Decline of the Male Breadwinner Model: The Implications for Work and Care’, Social Politics, 8 (2): 152–70. Lewis, J. and Giullari, S. (2005) ‘The Adult Worker Model Family, Gender Equality and Care’, Economy and Society, 34 (1): 76–104. Lombardo, E. (2003) ‘Integrating or Setting the Agenda? Gender Mainstreaming in the Two European Conventions on the Future of the EU and the Charter of Fundamental Human Rights’, Paper presented at the ECPR General Conference, Marburg. Available at: http://www.essex.ac.uk/ecpr/events/generalconference/ marburg/participant_search.aspx [accessed 13 May 2005]. Mackay, F. (2004) ‘Gender and Political Representation in the UK: The State of the “Discipline” ’, British Journal of Politics and International Relations, 6 (1): 99–120. Mazey, S. (2000) ‘Introduction: Integrating Gender-intellectual and “Real World” Mainstreaming’, Journal of European Public Policy, 7 (3): 333–45. Meier, P. (2006) ‘Implementing Gender Equality: Gender Mainstreaming or the Gap between Theory and Practice’, in S. Hellsten, K. Daskalova, and A. M. Holli (eds), Women’s Citizenship and Political Rights, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Mellor, J. (2002) ‘Spreading Equality Rights’, The Guardian, 16 May. Perkins, A. (1999) ‘Take Two’, The Guardian, 1 June. Perkins, A. (2001) ‘Duncan Smith Jibe at Labour Women’, The Guardian, 4 August. Phillips, A. (1995) The Politics of Presence, Oxford: Clarendon Press. Price, A. (2003) Human Resource Management in a Business Context, London: Thomson Learning. Prime Minister and Minister for the Cabinet Office (1999) Modernising Government, Cm 4310, London: Stationery Office. Rees, T. (2002) ‘The Politics of “Mainstreaming” Gender Equality’, in E. Breitenbach, A. Brown, F. Mackay and J. Webb (eds), The Changing Politics of Gender Equality in Britain, Basingstoke: Palgrave, pp. 45–69. Richards, D. and Smith, M.J. (2001) Governance and Public Policy in the UK, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Roche, B. (2002) Speech, IPPR Seminar on the Single Equality Body, 10 May. http://www.womenandequalityunit.gov.uk/about/ministers/speeches/IPPR_ 15-05-02.htm.

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Rossilli, M. (ed.) (2000) Gender Policies in the European Union, New York: Peter Lang. Rubery, J. (2002) ‘Gender Mainstreaming and Gender Equality in the EU: The Impact of the EU Employment Strategy’, Industrial Relations Journal, 33 (4): 500–22. Shaw, J. (2004) Mainstreaming Equality in European Union Law and Policymaking, Report published by the European Network Against Racism (ENAR), Available at: http://www.enar-eu.org/en/publication/mainstreaming_04_en.pdf [accessed 13 May 2005]. Shaw, J. (2005) ‘Mainstreaming Equality and Diversity in European Union Law and Policy’, under consideration with Current Legal Problems. Squires, J. (2005) ‘Is Mainstreaming Transformative? Theorising Mainstreaming in the Context of Diversity and Deliberation’, under consideration with Social Politics. Squires, J. and Wickham-Jones, M. (2002) ‘Mainstreaming in Westminster and Whitehall: from Labour’s Ministry for Women to the Women and Equality Unit’, Parliamentary Affairs, 55 (1): 57–70. Squires, J. and Wickham-Jones, M. (2004) ‘New Labour, Gender Mainstreaming and the Women and Equality Unit’, British Journal of Politics and International Relations, 6 (1): 81–98. Swift, A. (2001) ‘Equality’, in A. Swift, Political Philosophy, Cambridge: Polity. Taylor, A. (2000) ‘Hollowing out or Filling in? Taskforces and the Management of Crosscutting Issues in British Government’, British Journal of Politics and International Relations, 2 (1): 66. Treisman, D. (2002) ‘On Target’, The Guardian, letters, 25 January. Verloo, M. (2001) Another Velvet Revolution? Gender Mainstreaming and the Politics of Implementation, IWM Working Paper, no. 5, Available at: http://www.iwm.at/ p-iwmwp.htm#Verloo [accessed 13 May 2005]. Walby, S. (2004) ‘The European Union and Gender Equality: Emergent Varieties of Gender Regime’, Social Politics, 11 (1): 4–20. Ward, L. (1997) The Guardian, 4 June. Ward, L. (2001) ‘Outcry as party rejects quotas for women candidates’, The Guardian, 27 September. WEY (2003) http://www.womenandequalityunit.gov.uk/domestic_violence/ interim_findings.htm. Wolff, J. (1998) ‘Fairness, Respect and the Egalitarian Ethos’, Philosophy and Public Affairs, 27 (2): 97–122. Women’s Unit (1998) Delivering for Women: Progress so far. Available at http://www.womenandequalityunit.gov.uk. Young, I. (2000) Democracy and Inclusion, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

International statutes Council Directive 75/117/EEC of 10 February 1975 on the approximation of the laws of the Member States relating to the application of the principle of equal pay for men and women Official Journal L 045 19.02.75 p.19, Incorporated by OJ L 001 03.01.94 p. 484.

Index acquis communautaire 47 Algeria 17 Amsterdam Treaty 39–40, 46, 48, 166 asylum seekers 40 Austria 57 Balkan ‘Other’ 108 Barendt, R. 70 Belgium 44 gender mainstreaming in 193–4 Blair, T. 202, 209 Bohley, B. 74 Borchorst, A. 89–90 borders, borderless world 23 boundaries 4 Bourdieu, P. 107, 111, 120 Bretton Woods institutions 4, 24, 25 Brundtland, G. H. 93 Bulgaria 61, 107–24 civic education in 8, 122 democratisation 111–15 feminism in 121 National Revival 113, 119 representation of family life in 113–14, 118–19 representation of women in textbooks 112–20 rewriting history textbooks in 108–9, 113–14, 114–20 xenophobia in 116 capitalism and gender equality 57–9 and patriarchy 62 Centre for Democracy and Reconciliation in South East Europe 108 childcare 77 loss of 78 as unpaid labour 79 see also women’s sphere Chile, women’s movement in 17 China 17

citizen vs. inhabitant 38 citizenship as agency 43 and democratisation 20 denied 40 entitlement to 16, 19, 20 European 4, 15, 39–40, 46–9 as exclusionary 19–20, 40, 42 gendered 3, 40–4 historical models 3 postcolonial 20 post-national 47 as rights, belonging and participation 38 social 3 and social relations 19 terminology 37–9 women’s claim to 18, 40, 42–3 civic identity 8 civil law 40, 49n civil rights activism 43 entitlement to 38 civil society 59–62 as democratic space 5 engagement in 5 gap 79–80 and gender mainstreaming 67ff gendered order 41 idealisation of 79 networking 15 trap 61, 79 communitarianism 54 contract, freedom of 39, 50n Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination 98 Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Discrimination against Women viii Convention on the Rights of the Child 98 Croatia 109

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Croce, B. 110 cultural capital 111 cultural rights 6, 7 cultural values and political participation 8 culture of equals 86 patriarchal 121 traditional 54 Czech Republic 71 Daskalova, K. 8, 107–24 decision-making 30–1 women and 199–202 Defrenne judgment 44–5 democracy deliberative 30–1 democratic deficit 23, 47 democratic governance 24 democratisation 21 gendered 3 and political participation 15 Denmark 89–90 descriptive representation 128 Diamantopoulou, A. 163, 165 difference 74, 81n gender-based 17 and power 54 rhetoric of 93 among women 27 discrimination 69 gender-based viii indirect 45 structural 90 disengagement 26, 28 diversity 11, 204–5 business case for 210–11 diversity management 11 divorce viii domestic violence 9–10, 58, 69, 74, 154ff donors, international 6 dress codes viii, 118 Duhacek, D. 75 Eastern Europe economic transition 74, 80n

2, 8, 58, 67ff,

gender gap 69 NGOs in 60–1 rejection of feminism in 58 unemployment in 57–8 women in 55–7 see also European Union, accession to; and under individual country names economic policy, gender-sensitised 22 education 8 gendering 109 role of 111 system, socialisation of 107 see also Bulgaria egalitarianism 68 Einhorn, B. 5–6, 61, 67–82 emancipated subject 39 empowerment 5, 74, 157 equal opportunities 182, 200 equal pay, EU legislation 44–5 equality and diversity 204–8 postcolonial 20 religious exemptions to 96–8 equality politics 31 ethical trading initiatives 22 ethnic Other 89, 116 see also Balkan ‘Other’ ethnocentricity of education system 108 of welfare state 173n Europe, as community of law 4 European Commission 26 Directives on equality 45, 205 gender equality report 88 information campaign on diversity 204 European (Draft) Constitution 4, 46–9 equality provisions 48–9 European Convention of Human Rights 73, 98, 170 European Court of Human Rights 73, 171 European Court of Justice 44, 45 European Parliament, women’s representation in 48 European Policy Action Centre on Violence against Women 162

Index European Social Model 205 European Union 44, 73 accession to 8, expectations of 59 Charter of Fundamental Rights 47, 167 Daphne Initiative/programme 165 enlargement 2, 4, 8, 70, 72 Framework Strategy on Gender Equality 167 gender equality policies 154 integration, dynamics of 47 women’s rights in 44–6 European Women’s Lobby 47, 162, 164–5 Europeanisation 155–6 exclusion 3, 8, 17, 29, 40 Fair Employment (Northern Ireland) Act 206 family 40 dynamics model 159 life, representation of 113 reconciliation with professional life 45 violence 158–9; see also domestic violence; violence against women family law 40, 41, 50n Febvre, L. 110 feminism anarchist 4 diversity 158 indigenous 59 NGOisation of 6, 61, 79 Northern/Southern difference 54 post-socialist 4 rejection of in Eastern Europe 58 theorising 16–22 third world 53–4 Western 5, 55, hostility to 54, 58–9, 75, universalising nature of 55 Ferro, M. 110 Fichte, J. G. 40–1, 42 Finland 9–10, 90, 127, 154–5 abortion policy 132, 133 Council for Equality between Men and Women 146, Violence subcommittee 160

219

cross-party alliances 138 Day Care Act 141 domestic violence; discourse 158, incidence of 169–70 Equality Act 144 Equality Ombudsman 146 family violence 158–9, 168 Gender Equality Unit 146 Labour Market Subsidy Act 14 legal procedures 136–7 party feminism 9, 137 Quota Law 146 secularisation 136 strategic partnerships 146 as woman-friendly welfare state 140, 155, 160 women’s movements 137 women’s political representation 135, 136 women’s refuges 161 Fodor, E. 57 folk psychology 114–15 France, parité debate 90 franchise, exclusion from 43 Fraser, N. 73 free trade agreements 25 G7 26 gender budget groups 22 gender equality 4, 9, 73–4, 86ff, 181–2 and domestic violence 156–68 duty to yield 86, 87, 94–6 and EU accession 8 false rhetoric of 2 implantation of 179ff in Nordic states 7, 8 objectives 184 and profitability 94 religious exemptions to 96–8 strategies for 76–80 travel metaphor 86, 88–90 utility of 9, 93–4 gender essence 94 gender harmony, myth of 121 gender hegemony 107 gender inequality 187 gender justice 9

220

Index

gender mainstreaming 2–3, 10, 24–5, 26–7, 71, 76–7, 80, 81n, 179–96, 202–4 defined 181 impact 183 implementation 185–90 revolutionary potential 182–3 theory/practice gap 190–5 gender parallels 121 gender pay gap 74 gender power order 90 gender regimes 192 Gerhard, U. 3–4, 37–50 Germany 71 gender mainstreaming in 191 global governance and democratisation 23 feminist approaches to 24–5 gender in 25 global institutions 23–4 global sisterhood 54 globalisation 3–4, 15, 19, 22–6, 68, 69–70 governance 11, 73, 208–10 Gradin, A. 163, 164 gradualism 88 Guatemala 17, 20 gynocracy 116 Hellsten, S. 4–5, 6, 53–63 Hernes, H. 89, 93 Herstal, equal pay strike 44 Hewitt, P. 206, 210 history writing, purpose of 110 see also Bulgaria Holli, A.-M. 9, 89, 90, 127–49 human agency 39 human rights 6, 7, 16, 73 discourse viii, 73, 170 Hungary 77 Huntington, S. 16 identity politics 121 immigration viii, 15 inclusion 3, 9, 18, 127 incrementalism 88 Indian national movement individualism 54

16

integration 37 international aid 6, 61 see also non-governmental organisations International Bill of Rights of Women viii International Monetary Fund 60 international relations 15 Iran 16 justice as fairness

201

Kant, I. 38, 39 Kantola, J. 9, 154–74 KARAT coalition 70, 73, 79–80 labour market access to 77 participation 212 Lacapra, D. 110 Latvia 61 left-wing power and women’s policy success 9, 137, 141, 144 liberal democracy 5, 6, 60 liberal feminism 4, 56, 57 liberty, individual 68 Lister, R. 18, 39 Lithuania 71 love as mutual but unequal 41 and state theory 42 women as representative of 40 Maastricht Treaty 39 male dominance, institutional 91–2, 107 marginalisation 54, 69 marriage viii, 41 arranged 118 marital contract 40, 41 marital rape 161 Marx, K. 16 Mason, A. 203–4 matriarchate 116 Meier P. 10, 179–96 memory, school texts as functional sites of 111, 125n Mexico 20

Index migration 23 and citizenship 40 and EU enlargement 72 and workers’ rights 74 modernisation 209 motherhood 17, 77 ‘organised’ 43 NAFTA 25 national psychology 114 nation state 8, 22, 73 emergence of 39 nationality and 39 relationship with the EU 15 natural law 40 Network for European Women’s Rights 1, 55 Nice Treaty 205 non-governmental organisations (NGOS) 6, 21, 25, 26–7, 30, 59 in Eastern Europe 60–1 international donors 61 as politically neutral 6 professionalisation of 79 as political engagement 5 in transitional societies 59–62 Nora, P. 111, 121, 123n Nordic states 6–7, 89, 154 Norway 86, 93 Accelerated Christian Education scheme 97–8 CEDAW, and Norwegian law 98–9 equal pay in 95 Gender Equality Act 95–8 Human Rights Act 98–9 Power and Democracy Study 91 quota policies 92, 93 Norwegian Equality Centre 93 nuclear family discourse 158 NYTKIS (Coalition of Finnish Women’s Associations for Joint Action) 138 occupational segregation 74 Open Method of Co-ordination Ostrogorskij 42–3 Otherness 69

208

221

parity democracy 196n participation, effectiveness 28–32 Patemen, C. 40 paternalism 57 patriarchy 6 and capitalism 60 and domination 43 and state oppression 21 Phillips, A. 86 Poland 70–1, 72, 77 Poland Women’s Rights Centre 76 policy implementation 189 objectives 186 outcomes 189 style 185 policy-making 9 political associations, women prevented from joining 42 political institutions quotas in 21 social movements as 29–30 political obligations 38, 39 political participation viii, 3, 15–18 effectiveness 28–32, 78 and globalisation 22–6 as language of inclusion/exclusion 16 as stabilising 26–8 sustainability 30 political representation 81, 132, 133 and policy success 134–5 political rights, entitlement to 38 population control 27 positive action 3, 182, 199 poverty, feminisation of 69 power hierarchies, cooption of women’s group to 27 paradigms 27–8 property rights 39 prostitution 58, 132, 164 public appointments, regulation of 93 public health 165–6 public law 40 public vs. private sphere distinction 17–18, 38, 40, 158 democratisation of 18, 24

222

Index

public policy impact of women’s movements on 129–30, 132–5 implementation 185–90 quotas 3, 21, 29, 76, 77, 93, 200 twinning and zipping 201 Rai, S. 3, 15–36, 73 refugee policies viii, 40 Regulska, J. 70, 73 religious freedom 86, 96–8 and exemption from equality legislation 86 religious fundamentalism 23 reproductive rights viii, 69 rights vs. obligations 38 privatisation of 94–5 RNGS (Research Network on Gender, Politics and the State), analysis of the impact of women’s movements 127–47 cross-cultural analysis 132–5 Finnish analysis 135–47; see also Finland typologies 129–31 Roche, B. 206, 210 Romania 75–6, 109 Rousseau, J.-J. 16, 41–2 Russia 20 Schlegel, F. 41 Schleiermacher, F. 41 Scotland, Scottish National Party 201 second wave feminism and barriers to women 7 in Finland 137 negative image of 112 SEWA 21 sexual contract 40, 42 sexual division of labour 39, 42, 114 sexual harassment 77 sexual violence, continuum of 157 Skjeie, H. 6, 86–102 Slovenia 61 social control 16 social entitlement 57, 77

social inclusion 211–12 social inequality 187 social justice 5, 6, 11, 24, 54, 68, 69 gender-neutral 7 social movements 29 social order 42 social science, objectivity of 110 social security 72 socialism as woman-friendly 57 socialist feminism 54, 60 society, women-friendly 89 Socrates 16 soft law 166, 167, 168 soft policy 155, 194 South Africa 20 Squires, J. 10, 199–213 state feminism 89, 129 state accountability of 22 changing role of 21–2 discourse, autonomy from state 157 formation 20 retreat of 69 strategic framing 192–3 strategic partnerships 146 structural adjustment programmes 23, 30 substantive representation 128 suffragette movement 16 supranational institutions 74 Sweden 90, 154 Theorin, M.-B. 163–4 third world, feminism in 54 trafficking 58, 69, 164 STOP programme 167 transnational regulatory bodies

78

UK all-women shortlist 200, 201 CEHR 204–5 Commission for Racial Equality 207 devolution 201 domestic violence 156–7, incidence of 169 equal opportunities 199 Equal Opportunities Commission 206–7

Index Equal Pay Act 206 Equality Act 206 Equality and Diversity Forum 204 Equality and Institutions Review 204 female labour market participation 212 gender equality 155 Gender Impact Assessment 210 gender mainstreaming as official policy 202 Human Rights Act 171 human rights law 170 joined-up government 209 Labour Party 200, 201–2; commitment to equality 200 as meritocracy 200, 212 political representation of women in 200 Race Relations Act 206 Sex Discrimination Act 206 Sex Discrimination (Election Candidates) Bill 201 Women and Equality Unit 203 women’s refuge network 160 women MPs 201–2 Women’s Aid 156–7 women’s refuges 160 women’s rights 200 Women’s Unit 202–3 United Nations 21, 24, 25 UN Declaration of Human Rights 127 universal domestic violence discourse 156–7, 163–4, 168, 170 utility rhetoric 94 victim-blame 157 Vienna World Conference on Human Rights viii violence against women viii as breach of human rights 164, 167 as public health issue 165–6 Wales, Plaid Cymru 201 Washington Consensus 81n

223

WAVE 162–3 Weber, M. 110 WEDO 25 welfare state 6 downsizing 6 woman-friendly 155, 160 well-being 23 WID 27 WIEGO 21 women policy agency activities 130 women absence from texts 112 historical representation of 8 involvement in civil society 61 representation of in texts 110 role of 107 subordination of 40, 41 women’s sphere 113–14; see also public vs. private sphere distinction see also childcare; citizenship, denied; citizenship, women’s claim to; difference among women; domestic violence; Eastern Europe, women in; feminism; love; marriage; motherhood; political participation; second wave feminism; sexual contract; sexual division of labour Women’s Eyes on the Bank 25 women’s interests 128 women’s movement 9 impact on policy-making see RNGS women’s rights viii, 4, 5, 164 activism 43 in post-Soviet Europe 53ff World Bank 27, 60 funding to NGOs 29–30 lobbying 29–30 poverty assessments 27 women’s engagement with 29 world communities 23 World Conference of Women Beijing 76, 79, 179 Mexico 45 world feminism 54, 55