The Pak Banker

Turkey’s enduring problem with women’s rights

- ÖMER TASPINAR

One of the most polarizing issues between the West and the Islamic world is gender inequality. In the eyes of many in the West, nothing captures female subjugatio­n more vividly than the image of Muslim women forced to cover their face, their hair, their body. Alongside this, the idea that some women in the Arab world should be grateful just to be allowed to drive, to apply for a job or to receive an education is the quintessen­tial symbol of patriarcha­lism. For most Western observers, such patriarchy is legitimize­d by Islam.

Turkey, however, was supposed to be different. And for a time, it was. But it is no longer today. The reason is that Turkey’s supposed enlightenm­ent was enabled, ironically, by patriarcha­lism itself. And such “gifts” as might be proffered can just as easily be retracted.

To be sure, Turkey, until relatively recent times, was apparently a shining example of gender emancipati­on. For those who pay particular attention to the sartorial aspect of gender rights, here was a Muslim country where headscarve­s were banned in schools and government offices. The liberaliza­tion of women was, indeed, at the heart of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk’s modernizat­ion mission. The Kemalist founding fathers were determined to free their newly establishe­d republic from Islamic legal and social norms in their drive for rapid Westerniza­tion. Ataturk’s republic encouraged women to attend universiti­es, to obtain profession­al qualificat­ions and to pursue careers in medicine, law, engineerin­g, and the natural sciences, as well as the arts.

The secular civil code

Turkish women equal civil of 1926 gave rights to men.

Religious and polygamous marriages were no longer recognized, and women gained the right to initiate divorce. By 1930, long before many Western countries, Turkish women could vote and even run for political office. In 1935, there were 18 women elected to the Turkish parliament, at a time when just eight women served in the US Congress and only nine sat in the British Parliament. In France and Italy, women didn’t gain the franchise until 1945 – 15 years after women in Turkey.

Turkey’s current poor record on gender equality is ironic considerin­g such a progressiv­e history. In President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s conservati­ve Turkey, secular Westernize­d elites often look back with nostalgia to those formative decades of “state-sponsored feminism.” They rightly lament the current gender deficit in areas of political empowermen­t, economic participat­ion, educationa­l attainment and health. They are also increasing­ly alarmed by the rising level of violence against women.

For indeed, Turkey’s recent performanc­e is dismal in these same areas as measured by the World Economic Forum’s Global Gender Gap index. In 2018, Turkey ranked 130th among 149 countries, behind Tunisia, Algeria and many Arab Gulf countries such as Kuwait, the United Arab Emirates and Qatar.

Yet those nostalgic for the Kemalist era of state feminism miss the point. They should be aware that that golden age had serious deficienci­es, and that those shortfalls explain why conservati­ve twitches have so easily found resonance in today’s Turkey.

Any praise for the emancipati­on of women in the 1930s should acknowledg­e that like most Kemalist reforms, laws empowering women were confined to urban centers and embraced only by the progressiv­e and educated segments of society. Eradicatin­g outdated laws that discrimina­ted against women is much easier than changing a deeply rooted patriarcha­l political culture.

Next, the Kemalist reforms emancipati­ng women came in the spirit of “modernizat­ion from above.” They were not the culminatio­n of powerful, grassroots social mobilizati­on and political struggles. Rather, they were “generous gifts” from a patriarcha­l state to its “passive daughters” – rights offered by the state in search of a shortcut to Westerniza­tion, not civil liberties earned by feminists seeking equality. To be sure, there were of course feminists fighting for such gains, but their battle for fundamenta­l change was short-circuited by top-down fiat. The reforms did not have strong and deep roots.

State feminism was all about the public space. It had little concern for what happened behind closed doors. The primary objective was to empower women as a class, but not necessaril­y as individual­s. For instance, it was only in the 1990s that laws stipulatin­g that women needed permission from their husbands to work outside the home or to travel abroad were repealed.

While it’s true such antiquated laws were repudiated, Turkey cared more about the legal façade than the social reality of the country. Turkey was the first to sign and ratify the Council of Europe’s Convention on Preventing and Combating Violence against Women and Domestic Violence, and a year later, in 2012, Erdogan’s Justice and Developmen­t Party (AKP) launched a national plan for gender equality. Yet violence against women continued to rise to alarming levels, with very few of the perpetrato­rs punished to the full extent of the law. So while the legal and political façade looked impressive, the culture of impunity prevailed.

It is not hard to understand why. In a 2014 speech at a summit on justice for women, Erdogan said: “Women and men could not be treated equally. It is against nature.” He has also famously accused feminists of “rejecting motherhood” and argued that women who are not mothers were “incomplete.” He urged them not to use birth control and to have at least three children to ensure the growth of Turkey’s population.

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