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Women, the State, and Political Liberalization: Middle Eastern and North African Experiences
Laurie A. Brand
1998
9. The Changing Guise of State Feminism
The two periods of political liberalization explored in chapter 7 offer numerous examples of interaction between women and the state that have implications for women’s rights and status. I have selected several cases from each period for examination below. We begin with the first liberalization period and a consideration of: the emergence of an autonomous women’s “movement”; the atrophying of the UNFT; the 1981 changes in the CSP; the 1983 appointment of women ministers for the first time in Tunisia’s history and the establishment of the Ministry of the Family and Promotion of Women; and MTI’s challenge to the CSP. The second half of the chapter will discuss several cases drawn from the post-changement period: the interaction among women, Islamists, and the state; the revival of the UNFT; the licensing of the ATFD; and a final section on women and the state as liberalization ended.
The First Liberalization
The Emergence of an Autonomous Women’s Movement
By 1975, Bourguiba’s modernizing program, including the CSP, had been in place for nearly twenty years. Women’s labor force participation was 19.1 percent, up from 6.2 percent in 1966; 1 and as a result of universal education, literacy among women had risen to 32.1 percent, up from 17.6 percent at the time of independence. 2 Finally, the availability of family planning support since the early 1960s had given women much greater control over their fertility. Thus, the first generation of women to have been born and reached maturity under the CSP had, in effect, arrived by the late 1970s. The development of a lobby for further changes in women’s status required the emergence of a new generation of women who viewed the CSP, not as a gift to be accepted without question, but as a cornerstone on which further building could take place.
In 1978 a group of independent, although generally leftist women coalesced into a study group at the well-known Tahar Haddad Club, a cultural institution located inside the medina of Tunis. It was controlled by the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, but was also supervised, not surprisingly, by women from the UNFT. The establishment of the Club d’Etudes de la Condition des Femmes (CECF) was seen as daring at the time, because it appeared as a challenge to the UNFT, which, to date, had enjoyed a monopoly on women’s organizing. Among its goals, the club sought to make Tunisian women aware of their continuing oppression despite the formal rights they enjoyed, to aid them in recognizing their intellectual capacities and the role they could therefore play in the country’s economic and cultural development, and to demonstrate that the women’s struggle needed to be situated, not vis-à-vis men, but vis-à-vis the social structures that permitted the concentration and the maintenance of power in men’s hands. 3
One critical event in the evolution of CECF women was a meeting entitled “La femme dans les sociétés européennes et maghrebines,” sponsored by the local authorities in Tabarka in the summer of 1979. Because the gathering was not held in Tunis, there were greater opportunities for expression; and this was the first time Tunisian women outside official institutions discussed their situation in terms other than simple praise for Bourguiba. The significance of the event, however, derived from how the women were treated during and after the meeting. In the first place, the local authorities changed a number of the names of panels and presentations to less controversial ones, and during discussions the women were repeatedly criticized in an aggressive and often vulgar fashion. Then, upon their return to Tunis they began to hear rumors about their purportedly illicit behavior during the meeting. The women were shocked and for some it constituted a turning point, as they were then determined to continue under the auspices of the CECF the discussions that had been so rudely and crudely silenced at Tabarka. 4
Beginning in October 1979, the women began to meet every Saturday for discussions. They eventually decided to form committees to examine different issues such as “women and the family” or “women and culture,” or “women and history.” After a while, however, the meetings became plenary, rather than committee, sessions. 5 Beyond the issues of their own internal functioning and organization, the women also faced the question of their relationship to broader society. They held debates, showed films, and sponsored exhibitions of paintings, books, and posters in addition to their closed, club discussions. They also introduced and eventually managed to have March 8 broadly accepted as women’s day in Tunis, thus affirming their international ties and distancing themselves from the state’s August 13 celebration. The activity for which they are perhaps best known was a petition they circulated against a Ministry of Interior order that women secure written permission from their father or husband whenever they left the country. In the end the order was revoked. 6
| [G]iven the domination by the PSD over public institutions and the domination by the extreme left in other arenas, the women’s club Tahar Haddad was really the only democratic place in all of Tunisia, the only place where people could actually get up and express different ideas, and still meet the following week to continue the discussion. It was something truly exceptional... 7 |
But tensions gradually developed in the group, partly but not exclusively between those who wanted the Club to be simply a place where women could meet and discuss issues and those who thought that this work should then serve as a point of departure for more directed political activity. This was true even for the issue of the CSP: after passionate debate the majority refused to agree to hold a discussion of revising the CSP even in a closed session, much less have a more public event. 8 External factors also began to take their toll. Members began to be pressured by men in various ways and mocked for participating in CECF activities. The studies and discussions also increasingly confronted the women with difficult existential and identity issues, including their definition of and identification with feminism, which reportedly led to an increasing number of divorces. The women continued to meet into 1982, working in small groups. Eventually, however, the tensions between members led to serious divisions and the club lost its momentum. 9
To recount the next episode in the development of an autonomous Tunisian women’s movement, one must backtrack for a moment. At a CECF meeting on March 8, 1980, the idea of constituting a women’s labor union committee was discussed. A series of meetings to specify the contours of this committee followed. Again, however, there were internal political problems: the constitution of such a group was opposed by many female (not to mention male) labor activists on the grounds that it divided the working class along gender lines. To assuage these concerns, as well as those of the UNFT that this would be a competing organization, the committee that was founded was constituted as a study bureau. 10 The establishment of the Commission Syndicale d’Etudes de la Condition de la Femme Travailleur (CSE) was finally announced by the Secretary General of the UGTT, Taieb Baccouche, on March 8, 1982. 11 Most of its members were university and high school instructors, many were CECF members, and it began to gather momentum as the CECF was losing steam. To address UGTT and UNFT concerns about who would control it and what it would do, it was located within the organizational framework of the Bureau National d’Etudes of the UGTT.
The CSE was charged with a variety of tasks: sensitizing the structures and union members to workers’ problems; reinforcing women’s participation in union life; pinpointing specific problems regarding women’s participation, studying them, and proposing solutions; and making the public aware of these problems. Many of the women were not happy with these limits but accepted them since the formation of the group allowed them to realize at least some of their aspirations. The first meetings had about sixty attendees—all women, even though the CSE was constituted as a mixed organization. 12
Again questions related to program and goals arose. The women debated whether they should focus on women and ensuring their job security or take on the misogynous nature of the labor union itself and confront the state. 13 Over a three-year period the CSE organized a number of seminars on problems particular to women workers. For example, thanks to its efforts a report on the condition of female workers and on their specific demands—the protection of the right of women to work and the struggle against the forms of exploitation to which they were subject—was adopted by the 16th national congress of the UGTT, in 1984. In general, however, the commission was not successful in gaining the ear and attention of the UGTT leadership, which saw the CSE as a recourse for women workers and hence a counterweight to its power 14 —a threat rather than an asset. On a lower level, some UGTT cadres refused to cooperate with the CSE by obstructing its contacts with other women workers, and the UGTT Centrale’s monthly Echaab refused to publish the texts of the commission’s studies. 15
At the same time, the CSE found itself enmeshed in broader UGTT politics and concerns: demands for greater autonomy, the intensification of labor union demands in the 1970s, 16 and Mzali’s efforts to coopt the UGTT through the formation of the National Front. Since the PSD was beginning to perceive the UGTT as a competitor, it should not be surprising that the UNFT, which had begun a campaign against the independent women’s movement, took particular aim at the CSE. 17 In any case, owing to both internal UGTT problems and external challenges, the commission was dismantled at the end of 1985 following the UGTT’s closure.
Meanwhile, the independent women came to the realization that their “mobilizing structures”—the two study groups—did not permit political expression and public demonstration of their positions. Therefore, another informal group emerged, which included some of the same women. Called the Femmes Démocrates (FD), its first public activity was a demonstration in 1982 in response to the General Union of Palestinian Women’s call for solidarity in the face of the Israeli invasion of Lebanon. 18 Beginning in 1983, the FD decided to have regular meetings to discuss a variety of issues. One of the first topics broached was whether they should consider joining the UNFT. It was decided that until the FD constituted a more structured or formal group, the question was premature. 19
The FD reappeared in public after the 1984 bread riots. Hundreds had been arrested, and in the trials that followed some were condemned to death. In response, the FD published a declaration charging the government with responsibility for the demonstrations and denouncing the irregularities in the trials that followed. They were also the first to call clearly for the abolition of the death penalty. 20 Yet their activities continued to be reactive and spontaneous. Finally, the decision to publish a bilingual journal, Nissa, gave them the focus they had lacked. They applied for permission to publish in July 1984 and received it the following November.
Focus did not mean consensus, however. From the first issue, the women faced the dilemma of how to position themselves vis-à-vis the CSP. As one activist noted,
| [t]he Personal Status Code was then being attacked by the Islamists, but at the same time it was strongly defended by the government. There was no question, of course, of allying ourselves with the Islamists, but we didn’t want to sound like a mouthpiece for the government either. Yet if we argued too strongly for progressive changes in the CSP, the journal might be confiscated by the authorities... 21 |
There were no easy answers to these issues and they continued to disagree over which questions they could or should address, in what way, and how to make such decisions.
The journal also suffered from financial problems. The start-up capital had come from the founders, as each contributed fifty Tunisian dinars. 22 But they were never able to sell enough copies to make the journal a break-even venture. Nor did they benefit from the financial assistance that the Ministry of Culture had offered to other cultural journals: the Ministry routinely bought only 10 copies of Nissa, whereas it typically bought 1,000 copies of other journals. Nor did the women benefit from the government subsidy for paper, although one activist stated that this may have been the fault of the journal. 23
Its last issue (number 7) appeared on the occasion of International Women’s Day 1987. 24 During its brief life, Nissa had contributed to a movement of opinion aimed at promoting just and satisfying relations between the sexes. It had treated such issues as rape and the death penalty, the rights of children and the right to life, the campaign against the CSP, coeducation and mixing of the sexes, feminism, and labor union activism. There is no question in the mind of activists that in their experience with the journal they had benefitted from a certain openness under the Mzali government. 25 In the end, however, as we have seen with the study groups, that was not enough: “We were, throughout the whole experience of Nissa, unable to resolve our different points of view about the relationship between women’s issues and broader issues... We, and I speak about all of us, just didn’t have the minimum tolerance necessary for other points of view.” 26 Internal problems and dissent, not state coercion, appear to have been the most important immediate factors in the journal’s demise, although the backdrop of an authoritarian state played a key structural role.
Not until 1986 was a distinct women’s association established (although it was not formally granted its “visa” until 1989): AFTURD, l’Association des Femmes Tunisiennes pour la Recherche sur le Développement, which began as a local section of the Association Africaine pour la Recherche sur le Développement, based in Senegal. This, again, was a research-oriented organization, the objective of which was to conduct studies on the integration of women into the economic and social development process. 27
Evaluation
There seems little question that the opening of the early 1980s played a critical role in allowing for the operation of the various women’s groups described above. In my interviews, women referred to these years as the golden age in comparison with the situation in the 1990s. However, the UNFT monopoly on women’s activity made it much more difficult for the independent women to organize anything other than study groups. Hence, the coercive nature of the state played a key role in shaping what sort of groups might operate and how extensive their activities might be. At the same time, however, the Tunisian women activists are quite frank in their autocritiques, as they realize that their inability to reach a consensus on certain issues or on how to proceed also hampered their efforts.
The Atrophying of the Union Nationale des Femmes Tunisiennes (UNFT)
This development, like the others, has its roots in the general fossilization of the PSD and the broader crisis in the Tunisian political system. By 1980, there appears to have been little life left in the union, independent of the role some of its members played in various PSD and governmental structures. In other words, while it continued to play a role in the development of certain women’s political careers, its service function had been seriously neglected. Given that it had been imposed from above as opposed to having been demanded from below, and given the paternalistic attitude Bourguiba and his regime had toward women and the UNFT, it was largely viewed as an organization intended to implement policy formulated from above and to reflect the glory of the Liberator of Tunisian Women.
Fathia Mzali did initiate the founding of a Committee on Women’s Labor, which was intended to conduct research into the low levels of female labor force participation. There was also some discussion of focusing on the special problems and needs of women who emigrated abroad. 28 However, neither of these initiatives seems to have produced much in the way of results. Little concrete information about union activities is available for this period aside from the union’s journal, Al-Mar‘ah. From this journal the personality cult of Mzali is clear. By the mid-1980s, the journal was appearing infrequently and contained summaries of international or Arab regional conferences that the union hosted or attended rather than articles on UNFT activities. 29
The most important development of the period was the establishment of the alliances or rabitat. Some of the alliance women did in fact prepare studies for and participate in discussions of draft laws, 30 but the alliance initiative was likely a defensive response to the beginnings of more open activism among the women who ultimately came together as the FD. Indeed, the fact that the UNFT had been allowed to lose its original dynamism did not mean that it (read, its president) was willing to cede territory it assumed to be its own without a fight. There is certainly enough evidence of UNFT displeasure with the emerging independent activity to support this contention. It was the UNFT that insisted the CSE be called a “study” club, that it be contained within the UGTT, and that it not be allowed to take on a life as a competing women’s political organization.
Mzali’s dismissal from her ministership as part of the events surrounding her husband’s political demise led to her replacement for only a few months by UNFT treasurer Chehrezade Chaouche. At that time, newspaper stories began to appear that decried the UNFT’s deterioration. The union was described as having become an official club for the socially prominent 31 which had allowed the union’s literacy and professional training facilities, located largely in the rural areas, to languish. There were also several commentaries regarding the need to review Al-Mar‘ah and to change its format to one that was more relevant to average women. These criticisms must be understood, of course, in the context of the permissibility of attacking the record of Mrs. Mzali, who had been dismissed and discredited, not as examples of freedom of expression. By this time the political opening was clearly over.
The UNFT Congress held in October 1986 elected a new president, Fatima Duweik, a member of the PSD Central Committee and a parliamentary deputy who had effectively left the union along with a number of other activists during the last years of Mzali’s presidency. The press then changed its tone: it began to praise the new leadership, claiming that the problem of excessive bureaucratization had been overcome and that ideas and demands from the masses of women were now being received. 32 In fact, however, the changes were negligible. Indeed, despite her declarations of a desire to make the union more inclusive, Duweik made clear that she was first and foremost a PSD activist. Whether as part of a desire to distance herself as much as possible from her discredited predecessor or as a result of her lack of ease in dealing with professional and intellectual women, Duweik allowed the alliances to atrophy, thus sacrificing one of the few dynamic structures that remained to the UNFT. 33
Evaluation
The fossilization of the UNFT must be understood in the context of the broader crisis in the Tunisian political system and as part of the more specific process of lack of turnover or renewal among PSD cadres. Fathia Mzali’s personal ambition—her assumption of the ministership and failure/refusal to relinquish responsibility for the union—was both cause and effect of the union’s problems. The union would wait another several years before a serious initiative aimed at revival was launched.
The 1981 change in the Code du Statut Personnel (CSP)
By the mid-1960s, the legislation underpinning Bourguiba’s developmentalist program was in place. Central, of course, was the CSP. The 1970 attempt by the UNFT under Radhia Haddad to push forward amendments to the CSP was quickly quashed by Bourguiba, who made clear that he and he alone was responsible for this portfolio. In any case, no new changes were introduced into the CSP until February 1981. As noted in the previous chapter, the idea to revise the law came as a result of the president’s concern that a widow or divorcée be able to maintain a decent standard of living after losing her husband. To change the law to that end, in November 1980 the minister of justice assembled a committee of fourteen, including five women. About one-third of the members were Islamists, who were not terribly inclined to change the law, about one-half were secularists, who wanted to further develop Tunisian law, and the rest wanted only narrow changes. 34
Several months were spent in deliberations, although not long enough according to some who felt that such serious topics merited a longer period of reflection. 35 Because of the relative balance between contending strains of opinion, the committee went back to the president for consultations. The president had been convinced of the need to find a system of sharing the fruits (makasib) of marriage, something along the lines of the idea of community property. However, at the meeting with the president, some members of the committee advised against the idea of an equal sharing, arguing that this was a European idea with no basis in Islam, and would, therefore, not be accepted by Tunisian society. Some even expressed the fear that not only would the desired goal (protecting these women) not be achieved, but that a backlash could occur; for example, women might be killed rather than divorced so that the husband could avoid dividing up property. In the end, therefore, it was the third group, those who supported the idea of only very narrow reforms, who won the day. 36
Evaluation
While it is true that this initiative came as the Islamists were beginning to flex their muscles (see chapter 7), there is no evidence to suggest that the president made the decision that the code needed to be revised because he wanted to reaffirm the state’s concern with women in order to be sure, for example, that he could count on their support to counter this domestic political challenge. In the first place, testimony, both written and oral, insists that the sufferings of some divorced women happened to reach the president’s ears, and he decided to act. 37 And, while it is true that these changes were implemented during the period of liberalization, it seems that this was an example of the president’s acting independently and because he chose to do so. The only role that the liberalization may have played at this time was that the realm for public and media discussion of the changes was greater than it would otherwise have been. 38
The Appointment of Two Women Ministers and the Creation of a New Ministry
There had been, for some time a discussion of the possibility of a woman’s being appointed minister. Several names had been bandied about, including that of Fathia Mzali. Then, during the discussions of the 1983 budget, a number of female deputies had called for the revival (ba‘th) of a high-level women’s structure to look after the concerns of women. 39 Given that women’s concerns were addressed by a number of ministries—justice, education, social affairs, health—the idea of the new Ministry for the Family and Promotion of Women was not that it be one devoted to actual administration and running of women’s affairs, but rather one concerned with conceptualizing problems and solutions, of studying and making proposals that would harmonize the work of the other ministries on “women’s issues” such as family planning, employment, women’s rights, family assistance, and better integrating women into the development process. It was not intended to take over from other ministries their existing projects dealing with women, but to help coordinate policies. To that end the minister or the ministry was to be represented in all other bodies and agencies whose tasks dealt directly with women and the family. 40 The other unusual aspect of the ministry’s structure was that, like the Ministry of Defense, it was to have an organic link directly with the president. 41 It is worth noting that at the same time Mzali was appointed to head this new ministry, another woman, Souad Yaacoubi, was appointed minister of state for public health, a position that later became a full-fledged ministership under her direction. (Unlike Mzali, Yaacoubi outlasted the changement, remaining at her post until the ministerial changes following the April 1989 elections.)
Mzali succeeded in recruiting to work with her several high-powered women who had been active in her rabitat, especially the one for women from legal professions (including Faiza Kefi from the Ministry of Planning, who assumed the presidency of the UNFT in 1993). Beyond that, the available record indicates two major accomplishments. The first is the brief publication of a new journal entitled al-Mar’ah al-‘A’ilah w-al-Sukkan (Women, Family, and Population). The second was the union’s supervision of the national committee to evaluate Tunisia’s performance during the Women’s Decade 1975&-;84. This involved the preparation, distribution, compilation and analysis of questionnaires for a report for the 1985 UN meeting in Nairobi. 42 In evaluating the impact of this ministry, beyond these two projects, it is difficult to point to anything more than symbolic importance. Although Mzali was appointed on November 1, 1983, the specifications of the ministry were not published until February 1984, and the ministry was closed by presidential decree on June 23, 1986, shortly before Muhammad Mzali was dismissed as prime minister. The Journal Officiel de la République Tunisienne (JORT), the equivalent of an official gazette, was still publishing appointments of people from other government positions to work in the new ministry, as well as notices of basic job openings, up until the time the ministry was closed.
Evaluation
The establishment of this ministry fit well with the modernizing image of Bourguiba’s Tunisia. The announcement of the appointment of Fathia Mzali and Souad Yaacoubi to ministerial positions and the creation of a new ministry, which Mzali was to head, came at the height of Muhammad Mzali’s power, November 1983. The question that arises, why did this happen in 1983?
Given the jockeying for power between Mzali and “the palace,” one might have expected that the explanation lay in an attempt by the prime minister to fill the cabinet with those who were loyal or beholden to him. His wife was quite ambitious, and she had been pushing since 1978 for the establishment of a ministry to deal with women. 43 She must have assumed she would be the logical choice to head such an institution.
Another explanation, which seems eminently plausible given the nature of the regime and given the story behind the 1981 CSP changes, was that it had more to do with presidential whim. 44 Observers of the political scene at the time argued that the catalyst was the presence in the delegation that had accompanied President Mitterrand, on a recent visit to Tunisia, of Georgina Dufoix, recently appointed minister of social affairs and national solidarity in charge of family, population, and immigrant workers. Bourguiba was already sensitive to the issue of appointing a woman minister, had reportedly been thinking about it for some time, thought that its time had come, and the presence in such a delegation of Dufoix led him to act. Thus, according to this explanation, it was a presidential, not a prime ministerial, decision. It was also Bourguiba who reportedly defined the extent of the ministry’s purview.
Again, it is difficult to see in these developments contestation or negotiation of broader social forces at work as the result of political liberalization. The president decided the establishment of this ministry and the appointment of two women was the appropriate next step in his continuing championing of the cause of women. While Mzali’s position as prime minister cannot have hurt his wife’s appointment chances, she had a very long and strong record with the PSD in her own right, which made her the logical candidate for this job, quite apart from the identity of her spouse. In the end, the ministry’s life and Mzali’s tenure were too short to make a longlasting impact.
The MTI’s Challenge to the CSP 45
The growing strength of the MTI ultimately led in summer 1985 to an unprecedented move: an open call for a referendum on the CSP. In an interview in Jeune Afrique, MTI leader A. Mourou argued that it was not the rights of women, but the rights of the family that the CSP should defend. He contended that there were gaps in the code that needed to be addressed and that the MTI was therefore calling for the establishment of a national council composed of specialists to review the CSP and the reasons for the deterioration of the cohesion of the Tunisian family. 46
The MTI’s challenge cannot be separated from the broader economic and political context. It will be remembered that following the riots of 1984, Mzali abandoned his attempt to coopt labor as a power base. In the meantime, he had been dealing with Islamists in one way or another, and while still not formally licensed, they were able to take advantage of the liberalization (and Mzali’s political predicament) to assert themselves more forcefully. At the same time, a number of economic factors rendered their calls more acceptable. The economic crisis of the 1980s led increasing numbers of people in the political parties and unions to blame women for the economic and social deterioration. Unemployment, delinquency, and increasing instability in the family structure were all laid at the feet of a purported excessive liberation of women. The prescribed solutions were familiar: returning women to the home (from the labor market); reinstating polygamy; and making obtaining a divorce more difficult.
Even with the increasing economic pressures, however, most Tunisians did not respond to the MTI’s call. Hence, it abandoned the idea of a referendum on the CSP, and instead called for a law forbidding mixed (Muslim female/non-Muslim male) marriages. A circular to this effect had been issued by the Ministry of Justice in November 1973, but such marriages continued to take place in the country. By focusing on this issue, the MTI was able to advocate the virtues of returning to the shari‘a without directly confronting the CSP. Such a position enabled them to rally the largest number of people around their demand while neutralizing those who defended women’s rights.
The UNFT was silent on this issue, but other groups were not, and there were numerous exchanges in the press on the subject during this period. Further fueling the debate was the fact that the LTDH was engaged in drafting its charter, and the secularists took advantage of this opportunity to propose the inclusion in it of an article calling for complete freedom of spousal choice. 47 This then triggered an even wider controversy. In the end there was no new law on mixed marriages. Instead, on August 13, 1985, the anniversary of the promulgation of the CSP, the mufti of the republic published a juridical-religious opinion forbidding such unions. For its part, the LTDH backed down and simply omitted any reference to religion from the article in question. 48
Evaluation
The combination of Mzali’s equivocation in dealing with the Islamists, which offered them the equivalent of a political opening, and the growing economic crisis in the country helped to create an atmosphere in which Mourou’s call for a reexamination of the CSP could not only be voiced openly but also strike a responsive cord with a segment of Tunisian society. While the Islamists were not yet in a position to challenge the state, in part because secular sentiment was still so strong, they were viewed as sufficiently powerful to force the LTDH to back down from its position on mixed marriages and to lead the state to reaffirm its opposition to such unions.
The Changement: Pluralism Ascendant...Pluralism Quashed
The story of the place of women in the maneuvering and bargaining that took place under Ben ‘Ali began immediately after the changement. Just as women and the CSP were a central part of the legitimacy formula of the Bourguiba regime, so they became under the new president. As was the case in the first section of this chapter, several developments will be examined to explore the relationship between women and the state during the period of liberalization and its aftermath. A final section, which examines developments as the state abandoned its experiement with political liberalization, is included to provide a contrast, especially since the Tunisian state has engaged in a number of high-profile initiatives apparently in support of women since the liberalization ended.
Ben Ali, the Islamists 49 and the Women
One author divides the post-Bourguiba period into three phases, and they are useful for organizing this discussion. 50 The first is the period of anticipation and uncertainty, which began with the “constitutional coup.” Although women were one of the most important sectors referred to in Ben ‘Ali’s November 7 declaration, immediately thereafter rumors began to circulate that the new president intended to reverse some of Bourguiba’s policies. According to testimony, men began to taunt women, taking special pleasure in menacing them with the possibility that the CSP would soon be a relic of the past.
Even more threatening, early moves by Ben ‘Ali to relax the secularism of his predecessor’s regime led some to conclude that a competition had developed between the PSD and the MTI over who was more Islamist. 51 The state’s initial silence in the face of the questioning of women’s gains even by some deputies was interpreted as meaning that the CSP was in jeopardy. Moreover, the swift move to Islamize state discourse—the introduction of television broadcasting of the calls to prayer, Ben ‘Ali’s making the hajj, and his references to the need to be faithful to the country’s Arabo-Islamic heritage—gave Islamists hope, just as they troubled many women. 52
Growing concern with the power of the Islamists began to lead to the coalescing of a group of democratic, liberal, reformist, and leftist women and men. On International Women’s Day 1988, many who were concerned with the new direction in regime policy organized a series of activities to celebrate the CSP, women’s other gains, citizenship, and secularism more broadly. In a speech on this occasion, the head of the LTDH stated that the time was not appropriate for pressing for more rights for women. Instead, the focus needed to be on protecting and reinforcing existing rights. In this way, men again took charge of the women’s struggle, and limited it to one of a rear-guard defensive action in which the battle lines would be clearly drawn, and the only enemy would be the fundamentalists. 53 Whether the Tunisian men’s response was because they were truly afraid of an Islamist backlash that would trigger instability or whether they simply used this to cover their own sexism is an open question.
Perhaps as a result of this series of events, in a March 20, 1988 address, Ben ‘Ali called the CSP “un acquis civilisationnel irreversible.” He thereby closed the book on any discussion of overturning the CSP and presented the state as the guarantor of the code. However, the president’s position, similar to that of the LTDH, was also intended not to upset conservative sensitivities. His phrase, “Tout le CSP, mais rien que le Code,” captured the new approach to women’s rights: what had been granted would be preserved, but no amendments were envisioned. This speech marks the beginning of the second period, characterized by bargaining with and attempted cooptation, not only of the Islamists 54 but also, increasingly, of women.
At the end of the summer, the president announced his intention to assemble working committees to draft a National Pact. Participants in the discussions were to include representatives from the political parties, including the Islamists, as well as a variety of other organizations: the UGTT, the LTDH, UNFT, and even the unlicensed FD (later ATFD), as well as the doctors and engineers associations. The work was to focus on defining and agreeing upon the bases and principles required to preserve an état de droit (a state based on the rule of law). During the course of the discussions, great differences emerged. For example, the government and others wanted the Islamists to renounce violence as well as their desire to turn the clock back on certain issues. The MTI’s primary goal at the time was to secure legal political party status, and it was willing to make substantial compromises to achieve it. The bargain that was finally struck to include the Islamists as signatories to the pact involved the MTI’s acceptance of the designation of the CSP as an “irreversible civilizational gain” in exchange for the inclusion in the text of a phrase insisting upon Tunisia’s Arabo-Islamic identity. In the end, the president declared that women were in fact responsible for safeguarding this identity, a charge that made many non-Islamist women extremely uncomfortable. Once again, the women’s struggle had been redefined by the state to serve its interests. 55
Despite the MTI’s formal acceptance of the CSP through its adherence to the National Pact, Islamist candidates during the campaign for the April 1989 elections regularly attacked the code, often attracting large, supportive crowds. The Islamists placed women center-stage in their program, campaigning on the theme of “women and morals,” lambasting “the modern woman” and glorifying “the veiled woman.” 56 In response, on March 31, 500 women participated in a demonstration led by the still unlicensed ATFD, although the president of the UNFT, Neziha Mezhoud, was also present. Slogans called for no retreat on women’s rights and for equality. 57
In the end, the PSD turned RCD (Rassemblement Constitutionnel Démocratique) received 77.7 percent of the female vote (39.8 percent of eligible women), and 70.5 percent of the male vote (47.3 percent of the eligible men). Six RCD women were elected; the previous parliament had had seven. The success of the Islamists, who ran as independents, was estimated officially at 13 percent of the vote; however, according to informed observers, the percentage was actually much higher, especially in the urban areas and in Tunis in particular. 58
Ben ‘Ali was apparently surprised by their strong showing and stage three in the drama began in the wake of the elections. 59 As the Islamist threat appeared to increase both from abroad (Algeria) and domestically, Ben ‘Ali’s policy gradually turned into full-scale assault against al-Nahdah, while adopting a policy of more actively supporting women, at least in terms of form. While a concern for religious conservatism had clearly insinuated itself into regime, the threat that the state would make concessions to the Islamists on women or any other issue had dissipated. Whatever the brutality of the measures, many women (and other non-Islamists) justified the assault as the only means of preventing religious elements from taking power.
Evaluation
One of the most interesting characteristics of the early Ben ‘Ali period is the degree to which the regime’s policy toward the Islamists became increasingly inseparable from its policy toward women. The important place that women and the CSP had had under Bourguiba meant that they would certainly be a target of Islamists seeking to restore Islam and women to their “proper place.” Beginning with an ambivalent attitude toward women’s concerns as it Islamized state discourse, the state gradually came to view women as a natural first defense line against the Islamists. With nowhere else to go, the women had little choice but to seek the protection of the state. Once the state decided to crack down, it was able to use its concern for women as a justification for its policy and as proof, especially to the outside world, of its continuing commitment to modernity and human rights, regardless of the brutality to which it had resorted.
The UNFT: the Struggle for Redefinition
As noted in the previous chapter, the UNFT was the central institution used by the state to channel women’s activities. Over the years, several attempts by the UNFT to assert a degree of autonomy, or generate from within its ranks ideas for improving women’s status, had been met with resistance, as the president kept women’s affairs as his personal portfolio. Interest aggregation from the bottom up was neither envisioned nor appreciated.
The changement opened the way for change in the UNFT. In December 1987, it held a meeting in which independents joined with some members of the executive committee to issue the first call for autonomy of the organization from the PSD. A more serious discussion of this issue, however, had to await other developments. In February 1988, the RCD congress failed to reelect Fatima Duweik to its central committee, thus in effect forcing her to resign from the presidency of the UNFT. Dr. Neziha Mezhoud, who had been a member of the executive committee of the UNFT holding the health, social affairs, and social services portfolio but who had remained aloof from the conflicts that had recently plagued the union, was unanimously elected by the executive on August 9 to take Duweik’s place. 60 The celebration of her installation later that month marked the first time that women from outside the union—the opposition—were invited to attend such an event. Mezhoud stressed that she wanted to break monopolies in the women’s field and encourage independent associational activity. 61
On September 8–9, 1988, the UNFT central council met to confirm the election of Mezhoud and to begin to address three basic issues: setting new general directions and ways of working; restructuring the union and its bylaws; and participating in drafting the National Charter. The 1988 congress of the PSD turned RCD had declared its interest in preserving the independence of national organizations like the UNFT. Thus at the September meeting discussion began of the nature of the union’s relationship with the RCD. The UNFT executive agreed upon the principle of union independence, but in the framework of preserving cooperation and some ties with the RCD. The union’s growing financial problems, the need to seek funding from international agencies, and the importance of reinvigorating the alliances were also addressed. 62 In order to reinterest women in the UNFT and stem what she and others saw as growing marginalization, Mezhoud invited all women of good will to put their interest in women’s issues above partisan concerns. From the UNFT’s side she promised a change in modus operandi, including more varied and mobilizing programs of action. 63
In keeping with her invitation of non-UNFT or RCD women to her installation, one of Mezhoud’s first initiatives was to broaden the appeal of the UNFT by organizing the coordination of women of different political backgrounds, including the ATFD women, to solicit their opinion regarding the union. Many insisted upon an end to the union’s dependence upon the party as a condition for their further involvement. Some expressed skepticism regarding the move toward greater autonomy when the UNFT was taking its budget directly from the RCD, its president continued to be a member of the party’s central committee, and the majority of its members were recruited from RCD ranks. 64 A meeting was held on November 9, 1988, which did include a few women from outside the UNFT and the RCD, to discuss the future relationship between the woman’s organization and the party, but little progress was made. 65
On January 19–20, 1989, the union’s national council, comprising 200 delegates, met. No political parties were invited, but some independent women received invitations. This was the first meeting of the national council since the changement. The central issue under discussion was the UNFT-RCD relationship, and two proposals were put forward. The first was to adjust the relevant paragraph in the bylaws to read that there would be relations of cooperation with the RCD and mutual assistance with other organizations working to emancipate women. The second was to remove the paragraph altogether so that there would be no reference to the nature of the relationship between the party and the UNFT. Not surprisingly, there were strong differences of opinion between the two camps. The larger, but less cohesive, of the two wanted the union to become independent. The other group wanted to maintain a special relationship with the party based on only partial independence, and although smaller, it enjoyed a certain historic legitimacy in the union. 66 While initially the council seemed to be moving toward autonomy, the old guard flexed its muscle to secure a reaffirmation of the traditional relationship between the UNFT and the party. 67 In the end, the bylaws were changed largely in line with the opinion of the more powerful minority, so that the UNFT became an organization with “privileged ties” with the RCD. 68
While this was the most critical issue addressed by the conference, dissatisfaction in the ranks was manifested in discussions of other issues as well, including many that had been raised in 1986 at the previous congress: problems of finance, centralization of power, the place of women in political leadership positions, the undervalued role of UNFT representatives in rural areas, and so on. 69
In the meantime, there did appear to be some positive changes in the UNFT. The very fact that its president was pushing the question of autonomy from the RCD was nothing short of revolutionary. The UNFT line had also begun to evolve, as was evident in Mezhoud’s interviews on radio and television. The journal Al-Mar’ah had received a facelift and expanded publication (4,700 copies in June 1991, 18,500 in August 1991). Its more streamlined version was bilingual (the old version had been almost exclusively in Arabic), and had regular sections devoted to issues such as health, children, food, beauty, culture, and short stories. The UNFT structure also underwent a change: 60.9 percent of its women in leadership positions changed, and of the new totals, 83 percent were between twenty and forty years-of-age. 70 In addition, Mezhoud founded new alliances dealing with the sectors of education, health, social affairs, and office/government employees. 71 Perhaps more important were some of the public positions that the union took on political issues. For example, it denounced the negative attitudes expressed by a parliamentary deputy (RCD) regarding women’s participation in political life mentioned in chapter 1. It expressed its support for Minister of Education Charfi, when the Islamists launched their campaign against him, and it joined the ATFD in a demonstration on the eve of the April 1989 parliamentary elections. The UNFT cast itself as appealing to women who wanted to work but thought of themselves as moderates, those who were looking for dialogue and evolutionary change, not those who wanted to, as they put it—no doubt referring to those women of an ATFD inclination—“shock public opinion.” 72
But change in such an organization does not come easily, and despite attempts by Mezhoud at renewal, there appeared to be little change in the tone or level of the discussions from the 1986 meeting. 73 Indeed, the UNFT Congress held December 7–9, 1989, at which Mezhoud was reelected, reflected many of the more general problems from which the UNFT suffered. Although she stressed the importance of reasserting the value of the role of the UNFT at a juncture marked by the emergence of “retrograde, reactionary and extremist tendencies,” in general, there was no spirit of struggle or volunteerism among the participants. 74
Evaluation
Several factors explain the UNFT attempts at revival. The first was a general revival in the party and government itself announced and pushed by Ben ‘Ali. In this atmosphere of renewed enthusiasm about politics, many who had left the union or had never thought seriously of joining began to show interest. The focus on pluralism and the limited period of greater freedom of expression also opened the way for a discussion of union autonomy, a subject that could not have been broached before. Perhaps further triggering action was the presence of the ATFD and the feeling on the part of the UNFT that it needed to position itself in relation to ATFD demands.
At the same time, the brief opening created threats to the union in terms of its relationship to the party. For example, at the time of the designation of the new central committee of the RCD as well as at the time of the 1989 legislative elections, it became clear that the UNFT no longer constituted the sole training ground for RCD women candidates. Similarly, the women of the RCD, even those of the central committee, have not felt obliged to join the UNFT. Some have even tried to create women’s groups within the party, attempts against which the UNFT has protested, since it considers these unnecessary parallel structures. 75 It has also lost its monopoly position among state organizations as the regime has created a number of governmental NGOs dealing with women. Moreover, the state’s adoption of the discourse of pluralism has led to the licensing of real NGOs that in effect compete with the UNFT in a variety of areas that had long belonged solely to it. At the same time, however, the RCD continues to treat the UNFT as a part of the party’s field of control. Hence, it has gained neither substantive autonomy nor maintained the power it once exerted within the party and state structures.
The Story of the ATFD
The eventual legalization of the Femmes Démocrates, the first independent women’s organization with a clearly activist (as opposed to research) agenda, is one of the most important stories of this period. Following the changement, the ATFD published a declaration carrying eighty signatures and underlining the importance of the CSP, among other issues. 76 Although still unlicensed, the women were consulted on the National Pact in fall 1988, and five ATFD members were granted an audience with the president during which they were promised that their organization would be licensed.
They first asked for a visa (license) in late November 1988, but were denied the right to hold a press conference on that occasion. A formal request for licensing in February 1989 was also denied. ATFD members suggested that the UNFT had exerted pressures so that they not be legalized. (The UNFT president did state that it was very painful for them to see the emergence of another women’s group, especially one that had such dislike for the UNFT.) 77 In any case, they then approached the minister of the interior for clarification. In late July 1989 they were asked to reformulate certain articles of their statutes. After doing so they presented a new request, which was approved and announced on August 11. 78 Despite the long-standing antagonism between the two, in the face of rising interest in Islam by the state, the ATFD and the UNFT moved closer together, first, just prior to the 1989 parliamentary elections and then again on December 27, 1990, against positions taken by certain deputies calling into question women’s rights. They also organized a series of meetings in support of Algerian women. 79 In general, however, it was the ATFD that initiated such activities.
ATFD goals include the elimination of discrimination against women, defending existing rights, and developing Tunisian legislation so that there is greater real equality between the sexes. They also seek to change patriarchal and discriminatory attitudes, to encourage women to take charge of their struggle themselves (rather than continuing to rely on “gifts” from the state), and to encourage women to participate in civil and political life. They view women’s rights as an inseparable part of human rights, and the struggle to achieve these rights as part of a larger battle against all forms of discrimination, and part of the struggle for true democracy. 80
Despite quite limited resources, the ATFD has sponsored numerous conferences and workshops on women’s rights and concerns. The newspapers of the period carried periodic statements from the ATFD in response to statements by members of al-Nahdah or the government which challenged women’s rights. They also made clear their desire to participate in government discussions relative to women’s status (such as the Women and Development commission intended to prepare suggestions for the eighth development plan) by suggesting and calling for the need to change or amend certain legislation.
While it continues to argue for changes in Tunisian legislation to improve women’s status, the gradual closing of the “opening” has left the ATFD less and less room to militate on this front. Perhaps as a result, since 1991, one of the primary foci of their programs has been the campaign to sensitize men and women to the problem of violence against women. Although the UNFT and the Ministry of Women’s Affairs also officially have structures to address this problem, the ATFD was the first to push for a more open discussion of it. They began with a poster campaign and then organized an international seminar on the topic. This was followed by a series of roundtables and workshops to train women to work at what became a violence counselling center at its headquarters supported by small contributions from Italian, German, and American institutions. 81
Evaluation
The ATFD is the one women’s NGO in Tunisia with a clearly political message and program. The inheritors—indeed in many cases the original activists—of the independent women’s study groups of the 1980s were finally able, in the ATFD, to agree upon an organizational structure and receive a license from the government. This was no mean achievement and cannot be explained except in the framework of the conditions surrounding the changement, including the Islamist challenge. As one analyst argued, “[u]ltimately the government granted the union a visa, not out of respect for free contestation but rather because it realized the UFD [sic] could mobilize a significant force of feminists behind the regime’s campaign to battle the Islamists.” 82 At the same time, the presence of a legalized ATFD served other regime interests as well, since, as one former activist described it, it was “a nice decoration when the question of civil society or democracy was raised.” 83
While its mere existence is extremely significant, for reasons related to broad political constraints as well as the feminist aspects of its program, membership remains small, and women come and go depending upon the political atmosphere. In 1989, when women were worried about the fundamentalists, many joined the ATFD ranks. Some were demobilized after the regime began its assault against the fundamentalists and the danger to the CSP appeared to fade. 84 However, the increasing coercion resorted to by the state against even non-Islamist opposition forces has led some ATFD activities to be canceled, and the narrowing of the realm of activity has hurt the appeal of an organization that continues to guard its autonomy and work on political issues. The women are faced continuously with the dilemma of maintaining relevance (through an acceptable level and variety of activities), which requires some form of working or cooperating with the state, and avoiding cooptation. 85 As the margin of freedom of activity has narrowed, it has become increasingly difficult for the women to remain both relevant to political developments and true to their principles.
Ben Ali, the Proliferation of Women’s Organizations, and the Promotion of Women
Starting with the discussions leading to the issuance of the National Pact, but especially since the beginning of the battle against the Islamists, government officials have stressed the importance of associational life or civil society. As al-Nahdah’s fortunes declined and women’s currency with the state began to increase in value, one of the most notable developments has been the state policy of institutionalizing a concern for women along with an (obviously selective) promotion of women to high profile positions. This period has also produced a variety of apolitical women’s organizations.
In June 1991 Ben ‘Ali announced the establishment of a National Consultative Commission on Women and Development, which was to prepare a report for consideration during discussions of the Eighth National Development Plan. While this was viewed as a positive development, it came after the initial working groups had already been assembled, and criticism was raised that there was no special working group on women. In the wake of the criticisms, such a group was convened, but it had only two months to prepare a report that the other sectoral commissions had had two years to write. A variety of individuals as well as institutional actors, including the ATFD, were involved in the commission’s discussions, which focused on education and literacy, health and family planning, vocational training and development, and information, culture, and communication. The ATFD women felt that most of the content had largely been predetermined. However, they were able to argue that schooling should be made compulsory and in 1992 the education law was amended to make schooling a requirement, not just a right. 86
The real move to reinforce the state’s position vis-à-vis women was initiated on December 31, 1991 (following the first round of the ultimately aborted Algerian elections), when Ben ‘Ali called for a commission to examine women’s legal status—especially, but not exclusively, the CSP—to explore ways to reinforce and develop women’s gains without contradicting the country’s Arabo-Islamic identity. The commission began meeting in February 1992 to review all laws. It comprised fifteen members, including seven women: one, an adviser to the president; two law professors; three lawyers, and a theologian. Its recommendations were announced on Women’s Day, August 13, 1992, and finally came into effect a year later. As the previous chapter detailed, the new CSP revisions included some very positive elements. However, in announcing these changes, the president concluded his speech by mentioning the coming “payback dates” (presumably elections) which would allow the state to evaluate how women were shouldering their responsibility. 87
In the realm of high-level appointments, in January 1992 a woman was named vice-president of the parliament, and a municipal councilor from Gabes and member of the RCD, Chadlia Boukhchina, was named by Ben ‘Ali as a political adviser, the first woman ever to serve the president in such a capacity. At about the same time, party faithful Naziha Zarrouk was appointed permanent secretary in charge of RCD women’s affairs. The party then also appointed regional RCD women’s coordinators. On August 17, 1992, the president announced the nomination of two women to the government: Nabiha Gueddana, state secretary attached to the prime ministry charged with women’s and family affairs; and Neziha Mezhoud (who had been the head of the UNFT), state secretary attached to the Minister of Social Affairs. At the same time, six women were appointed chargées de mission at the ministries of foreign affairs, international cooperation and foreign investment, national economy, housing, transportation, and professional training and employment. 88 Following the RCD congress in early September 1993, Gueddana, who was not on the new RCD central committee, was replaced by Mezhoud, and the position was upgraded to full ministerial status. At the same congress, Neziha Zarrouk became only the second woman to win a place on the RCD Politburo.
If one moves to the realm of governmental NGOs, perhaps no institution has as high an external profile as CREDIF (Centre de Recherche, d’Etudes, de Documentation, et d’Information sur la Femme.) Created in August 1990 as an administrative service, it was made a public establishment by a subsequent change in the law. It continued to receive state money under the supervision of the Ministry of Women’s and Family Affairs, but was thereby accorded greater autonomy. It is housed in a large three-story building in the upscale al-Manar district, where it has a small but impressive and growing library. CREDIF is responsible for monitoring the condition of Tunisian women in order to provide data to decisionmakers. It has developed a data bank on women and women’s issues and has initiated and is the focal point of a network of information on women for Tunisia and North Africa. The center has also produced a number of studies on women’s condition, Tunisian women’s oral histories, women’s legal status, and the like, in addition to publishing a regular magazine and bulletin. Not surprisingly. CREDIF has already become a prominent reference center in its area of expertise. It also organized and hosted a series of conferences, including some in preparation for Tunisia’s participation in the 1995 UN conference on women in Beijing. 89
There has also been a proliferation of real, as opposed to governmental, NGOs dealing with women, although they are either clearly humanitarian or developmentalist in thrust. Before concluding, it is worth discussing one last organization: Rihana, the network of NGOs that participated together in the Beijing conference. Initially, the NGOs had been approached by Minister of State for Women and Family Affairs, Nabiha Gueddana, for input into the Tunisian governmental report for Beijing. Her/the state’s desire was that all activity be coordinated through the ministry, but the NGOs refused. Then came an initiative of the UNFT, to establish the network which they named Rihana. Nine women’s NGOs, among them the UNFT and ATFD, agreed to work together for a number of goals while preparing for the international women’s conference. This type of coordination was unprecedented and was especially notable since it involved working with the UNFT. In a way it was still the state’s highly touted partenariat (partnership between civil society and the state) formula, but with an organization identified as not completely coincident with the state. 90 The discussions were not always easy, and the difficulty of working together was clear in interviews with UNFT and ATFD women.(None of the other organizations had the same history of nonrecognition or antagonism.) But for three years, women who had previously refused to set foot in each other’s headquarters met on a weekly basis. 91 Not all were pleased with the outcome of the joint presentation at Beijing (a workshop and a video presentation), but both sides insisted that they had learned a great deal from the experience and that it had, at very least, de-demonized the other. 92
Evaluation
Given that women had lined up behind the state as it cracked down on the Islamists, as the assault was ending in late 1991 and in 1992, Ben ‘Ali in effect “rewarded” the women with a series of gestures of support, both symbolic and concrete, but all in the framework of reinforcing domestic stability, Tunisia’s image of progress and pluralism, and women’s dependence upon the state. His 1988 speech closing the door to any revisions of the CSP had already reasserted the president’s special prerogative in addressing the women’s portfolio. However, the introduction of new amendments to the CSP in 1992 was the first clear demonstration of the president’s intent publicly to promote women’s issues. In so doing he was operating in the Bourguibist tradition. Yet, by simultaneously making a number of appointments of women to key party and governmental positions and promoting the development of associational life (if in a highly constrained or controlled form), Ben ‘Ali also clearly distinguished himself from his predecessor’s legacy of a one-party state.
Conclusions
Under both periods of liberalization and subsequent retrenchment examined above, women’s issues became sources of contention between regime and opposition, but to different degrees. The opening under Mzali offered the first real opportunity since independence for women to come together outside the framework of the UNFT monopoly. While the women’s efforts were limited by their lack of experience, their small numbers, and the continuing pressures from an authoritarian state, they nonetheless carved out a certain space that they continued to develop and eventually built into an independent women’s organization. At the same time, however, the combination of regional factors and a growing domestic political crisis meant that the liberalization under Mzali also opened the door to other non-PSD Tunisians to operate more freely. While some of the minor opposition parties certainly took advantage of this opportunity, the group whose strength continued to grow through the period was the Islamists.
Just as questions related to women’s status had been central to Bourguiba’s modernization project so they were to the Islamists’ program for putting Tunisian society back on the road to fuller implementation of shari‘a, a program that, on the basis of MTI’s own discourse, many women understood to portend major retreats from the rights they enjoyed. Although Mzali’s flirtation with the Islamists as he searched for coalition partners to reinforce his position made many Tunisian women nervous, as long as Bourguiba was in power there seemed little chance of the prime minister’s ceding ground on the CSP. The cases of women-state interaction examined above to a large extent reflect the president’s continuing personal monopoly of decisions related to women, not a real response by the state to pressures from below, Islamist or feminist. The only exceptions are the development of the ATFD precursor groups (the most obvious example of women’s ability to take advantage of a political opening) and the increasing assertiveness of the MTI.
Under Ben ‘Ali, the stakes were raised. Despite the general relief that Bourguiba had been removed from the presidency without bloodshed or civil unrest, Ben ‘Ali still needed to consolidate his position and distinguish himself from his predecessor. At the same time, he had to address the pressures for change in the political system, including the growing Islamist movement. The examples above have outlined how regime policy gradually shifted from one of compromise with or cooptation of the Islamists to one of treating women as the first line of defense against them. While Ben ‘Ali “rewarded” his female reservists with a variety of legislative amendments and high-level promotions after the battle was won, the approach is fraught with dangers: it leaves women dependent upon the state to defend their rights and makes them the most likely target of backlash should the regime change.
The state under Ben ‘Ali has certainly recognized women as a pressure group of importance, but it has also decided that any further evolution of law or status has to be within a more conservative framework. 93 Many Tunisian women are unwilling to criticize the regime’s approach. They have been profoundly affected by developments in Algeria and believe that their choice is between the current Tunisian government and the Islamists. They also compare their status to women elsewhere and see that they have many advantages. The women of the ATFD, on the other hand, argue that there has been a real retreat in the women’s situation in Tunisia, regardless of the changes introduced in 1993. They are most concerned with the continuing conservative nature of a state discourse pervaded by Islamic idiom. They are uncomfortable with the National Charter’s reference to the country’s Arabo-Islamic heritage, viewing it as a serious departure from the more secular orientation of the Bourguiba years. The state has refused to define what it means by this phrase, and thus there is always the possibility that it could be used to justify a retreat in the field of women’s rights. 94
The National Charter called for a partenariat (partnership) between the state and civil society. This means some form of cooperation, but it is not supposed to involve absorption. Yet, Ben ‘Ali’s successes in coopting opposition members have already been mentioned. What must be stressed in conclusion is that while the state discourse is one of pluralism, civil society, and tolerance (the code word for anti-fundamentalism), the practice is that of demobilization, depoliticization, and coercion—to the extent that all opposition, even secular and loyal, is treated as threatening. Even the concept of citizenship remains problematic. Despite the degree to which Bourguiba’s reforms helped to liberate Tunisian women, as one analyst has pointed out, this “liberation in the framework of her private family space was accompanied by an infantilization of the individual Tunisian (man and woman) in the framework of public space” 95 through the institution of the single party and its affiliated structures and by the broader authoritarian nature of the regime. Under Ben ‘Ali there is a window dressing of political pluralism, but the levels of coercion remain high. The regime plays on Tunisians’ fears of a spillover from Algeria to justify its continuing repressive policies. It is not a situation which bodes well for the further development of any rights; indeed, the trend is clearly one of erosion. Yet, as long as the economy appears to perform well and the country is stable, many Tunisians, women and men, will be unwilling to risk the rise of Islamist influence and the losses they believe it would bring, by pushing for a greater opening of the system.
Endnotes
Note 1: CREDIF, Femmes de Tunisie (Tunis: SIMPACT, 1994), p.74. Back.
Note 3: Neila Zoughlami, “Quel Féminisme dans les groupes-femmes des années 80 en Tunisie?” (hereafter Zoughlami) Annuaire de l’Afrique du Nord (hereafter AAN), 1989 (Paris: CRNS, 1989), p. 445. Back.
Note 4: Azza Ghanmi, Le Mouvement Féministe Tunisien: terminologie sur l’autonomie et la pluralité des femmes, 1979–1989 (hereafter cited as Ghanmi) (Tunis: Editions Chama, 1993), pp. 28–29; and Amel Ben Aba, “Clore pour éclore à l’aube du féminisme tunisien,” in AFTURD, vol. 2. Back.
Note 5: Ghanmi, pp. 43–44. Back.
Note 6: Ibid., pp. 27–28. Back.
Note 7: Kevin Dwyer, Arab Voices: The Human Rights Debate in the Middle East (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991—hereafter cited as Dwyer), p. 195. Back.
Note 8: Ghanmi, pp. 50–54. Back.
Note 9: Dwyer, pp. 196, 199–200. Back.
Note 10: Ilhem Marzouki, Le Mouvement de Femmes en Tunisie au XXème siecle (Paris: Maisonneuve et Larose, 1993—hereafter cited as Marzouki), pp. 261, 265. Back.
Note 13: Zoughlami, p. 446. Back.
Note 14: Ghanmi, pp. 60–61. Back.
Note 15: Le Maghreb, June 30, 1989. Back.
Note 16: Zoughlami, p. 446. Back.
Note 17: Ghanmi, pp. 59–60. See discussion of this period in chapter 7. Back.
Note 18: Marzouki, p. 266. Back.
Note 19: Ghanmi, pp. 67 and 70. Back.
Note 20: Marzouki, p. 267. Back.
Note 22: Ghanmi, p. 77. At the time, 50 TD was worth about US$42. Back.
Note 24: Marzouki, p. 295. Back.
Note 25: Zoughlami, p. 447. Back.
Note 27: Zoughlami, p. 448. Back.
Note 28: Dialogue, April 6, 1981. Back.
Note 29: The press dossiers at the Centre National de Documentation had very little on the UNFT from 1983 to 1988. Back.
Note 30: Haqa’iq, July 13–19, 1990. Back.
Note 31: Al-Sabah, April 4, 1987. Back.
Note 32: Al-Sabah, April 7, 1987. Back.
Note 33: Interview with Radhia Riza, former vice-president of the UNFT, Tunis, November 9, 1995. Back.
Note 34: Al-Tayyib al-Lumi, “Al-Jadid fi Majallat al-Ahwal al-Shakhsiyyah,” (hereafter cited as al-Lumi), in ‘Ayyad Ibn ‘Achour (ed.), Thulathiyyat al-Majallah al-Qanuniyyah al-Tunisiyyah, 1953–1983, ‘Adad Khass (Tunis: Kulliyyat al-Huquq w-al-‘Ulum al-Siyasiyyah w-al-Iqtisadiyyah bi Tunis, 1985), p. 66. Back.
Note 35: See the interventions of law professor Sassi Ben Halima in “Amendement du code du statut personnel, Le Maghreb, April 11, 1981. Back.
Note 36: Al-Lumi, pp. 67–68. Back.
Note 37: Interview with Hedia Jrad, president of the ATFD, in Tunis, October 23, 1995. Al-Lumi confirms this point as well. Back.
Note 38: See the interventions of lawyer Fathia Bahri in “Amendement,” Le Maghreb, April 11, 1981. Back.
Note 39: Al-Sabah, April 11, 1984. Back.
Note 40: See Order 107 of 1984, published in al-Mar’ah al-‘A’ilah w-al-Sukkan, February 1985. Back.
Note 41: Le Maghreb, November 5, 1983. Back.
Note 42: L’Action, April 7, 1984. Back.
Note 43: Riza interview. Back.
Note 44: Jrad interview. Interview with author and consultant Souad Chater, in Tunis, October 31, 1995. Back.
Note 45: This section is taken largely from Rachida Ennaifer, “Des Acquis en Péril,” Kalima, no. 1, February 1986. Back.
Note 46: Jeune Afrique, August 7, 1985. Back.
Note 47: AAN, 1985, p. 704. Back.
Note 48: Souad Chater, Les Emancipées du Harem (Tunis: Editions La Presse, 1992) p. 38. Back.
Note 49: For a discussion of the diversity among Islamists in Tunisia see Douglas K. Magnuson, “Islamic Reform in Contemporary Tunisia: Unity and Diversity,” in I. William Zartman (ed.), Tunisia: The Political Economy of Reform (Boulder: Lynne Reinner, 1991), pp. 169–192. Back.
Note 50: Aziza Dargouth-Medimegh, Droits et Vécu de la Femme en Tunisie (Paris: L’Hermès Edilis, 1992—hereafter cited as Dargouth-Medimegh), p. 144. Back.
Note 51: Ghanmi, p. 120. Back.
Note 52: Dargouth-Medimegh, p. 144. Back.
Note 53: Ghanmi, pp. 120–21. Back.
Note 54: Dargouth-Medimegh, p. 144. Back.
Note 55: Ghanmi, 122–23. Back.
Note 56: Dargouth-Medimegh, p. 145. Back.
Note 57: Al-Sabah, April 1, 1989. Back.
Note 58: Dargouth-Medimegh, pp. 154, 158, and 181. Back.
Note 59: Dargouth-Medimegh says this period starts with the president’s speech closing the campaign, p. 144. Back.
Note 60: Le Maghreb, September 30, 1988. Back.
Note 61: Al-Musawwar, August 19, 1988. Back.
Note 62: Al-Mar’ah, special issue, November 1988. Back.
Note 63: Le Maghreb, September 30, 1988. Back.
Note 64: Ibid., short interviews, pp. 11–13. Back.
Note 65: Le Maghreb, November 11, 1988. Back.
Note 66: Al-Akhbar, December 12, 1988. Back.
Note 67: Le Maghreb, January 27, 1989. Back.
Note 68: Ghanmi, p. 129. Back.
Note 69: Al-Hurriyyah, January 22, 1989. Back.
Note 70: Le Maghreb, December 8, 1988. Back.
Note 71: Le Renouveau, November 27, 1988. Back.
Note 72: Interview with Faiza Kefi, president of the UNFT, in Tunis, October 25, 1995. Back.
Note 73: Al-Hurriyyah, January 22, 1989. Back.
Note 74: Al-Akhbar, December 16, 1989. Back.
Note 75: Le Maghreb, December 8, 1989. Back.
Note 76: Reproduced in Ghanmi, pp. 93–95. Back.
Note 77: Kefi interview. Back.
Note 78: Le Temps, August 12, 1989. Back.
Note 79: Zakya Daoud, Féminisme et Politique au Maghreb (Casablanca: Editions Eddif, 1993), p. 107. Back.
Note 80: Al-Sha‘b, August 11, 1992. Back.
Note 81: Interview with Sana Jelassi, member of ATFD and administrator of the violence counseling center, in Tunis, October 10, 1995. Back.
Note 82: Eva Bellin, “Civil Society in Formation: Tunisia,” in Augustus Richard Norton (ed.), Civil Society in the Middle East (Leiden: Brill, 1995), in note, p. 146. Back.
Note 83: Discussion with former ATFD activist and professor of history Dalenda Larguech, in Tunis, October 12, 1995. Back.
Note 84: Ghanmi, pp. 99–100. Back.
Note 85: Interview with Nadia Hakimi, secretary-general of the ATFD, in Tunis, 10 October 1995. Back.
Note 86: Jrad interview. Back.
Note 87: Daoud, pp. 121–123. Back.
Note 88: Ibid., pp. 117–118. Back.
Note 89: InfoCredif, November 6, 1994. Also, interview with Dr. Soukaina Bouraoui, director of CREDIF, in Tunis, October 21, 1995. Back.
Note 90: Jrad interview. Back.
Note 91: Kefi interview. Back.
Note 92: Kefi and Hakimi interviews; interview with Fathia Harzallah, member of AFTURD, in Tunis, October 18, 1995. Back.
Note 93: Dargouth-Medimegh, pp. 183–184. Back.
Note 94: Jrad interview. Back.
Note 95: Abdelkader Zghal, “La circulation des femmes dans le commerce politique,” Revue Tunisienne des Sciences Sociales, no. 88/91, 1987, p. 28. Back.
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