Why women in politics matter

Following a five-month stalemate, Lebanon’s prime minister has finally announced his 30-member cabinet. News reports have concentrated on the representation of various religious factions. But there has been little attention to the fact that all 30 ministers are men. Recent Lebanese governments were dominated by men, but not to the total exclusion of women.

The gender imbalance in Lebanon's cabinet is of additional interest because of the hopes for change generated by the general upheaval in the region. The ousters of presidents Hosni Mubarak in Egypt and Zine el Abidine Ben Ali in Tunisia were both instigated by popular protests that featured discontented women as well as men. Inside and outside of these countries, the role of women in the protests has led to expectations of a type of democracy in which women have if not an equal voice, then at least a voice.

So far, these expectations have been largely disappointed.

In Egypt, only one woman was appointed to the new 27-member cabinet, and a quota system put in place in 2010 to ensure women’s participation in parliament has been canceled by the military council that serves as an interim government, with no alternative mechanisms provided to ensure participation.

In Tunisia, the experience has been better, in particular with a requirement to alternate men and women on party listings for elections, heightening the possibility that women will fill parliamentary seats for successful parties. Still, of 31 ministries, only two are headed by women, and the civil society transition council formed after the former president departed is also overwhelmingly dominated by men.

To be sure, many Western democracies are bad role models when it comes to women's political participation and leadership. In the United States, only 89 of the 535 members of Congress the House -- 16.6 percent -- are women, and fewer than a quarter of the members of the French and Canadian parliaments are women. This situation is appalling and needs to change.

The real question, however, is not who is already doing this right, but rather why it matters. The answer doesn't lie with abstract notions of fairness or unsubstantiated claims that women are a kinder and more altruistic breed than men. It matters because women's political participation and leadership are necessary for democracy to function most effectively.

There are at least two reasons for this.

First, the more closely government represents the composition of society as a whole, the more stable its policies are likely to be. This means that it is not just important to include women, but also to ensure broad representation. For example, Rwanda tops the charts for the percentage of women in parliament, with 56 percent, but most are from the same ethnic group, which some commentators warn could lead to instability.

Second, a mixed-gender cabinet or parliament should, all other things being equal, tend to address more of the concerns that apply exclusively or disproportionately to women. Of course, female politicians don’t always bring up issues that are important to women, and male politicians don't always exclude these concerns. But research has shown that non-feminist women are more likely than non-feminist male colleagues to work on policies that affect women.

Of course, women's political participation and leadership are not the only necessary factors for general peace and prosperity. But they are necessary factors. Supporters of democracy everywhere, whether in Lebanon, France, or the United States, would do well to remember that.

@Salon

Making Noise about Violence and Women

@HuffingtonPost

Violent women are making news these days.  Last week, the singer Rihanna released a music video, Man Down, depicting a woman (herself) assassinating the man who had sexually assaulted her.  This week, the BBC reports that the number of women convicted for domestic violence in England and Wales has more than doubled between 2005 and 2010. These news pieces, while obviously very different in nature, challenge prevailing notions that societal violence is perpetrated almost entirely by men. Do they signify social change?

The vast majority of domestic violence is directed against women and girls.  The same BBC report that shows an increase in women convicted for domestic violence also shows that in over 90% of convictions for domestic violence, the perpetrator is a man.  In the United States, the National Institute for Justice estimates that 25 percent of adult women are affected by domestic violence at some point, as opposed to 7.6 percent of men.

Statistics also show that while US women are less likely than men to be murdered, when they are killed, they are more likely to be killed by their husband or boyfriend.  Thirty percent of female homicide victims were killed by their intimate partner, as opposed to 5 percent of male murder victims. In 70–80 percent of intimate partner homicides, no matter which partner was killed, the man physically abused the woman before the murder.

This admittedly superficial review validates the notion of men as the main perpetrators of violence and women as the victims.

It is, however, a very unsatisfactory read.  Not just because it overlooks male victims of violence and their suffering, which is substantial and real.  And not just because it overlooks the fact that domestic violence, regardless the victims’ gender, is damaging to society as a whole (which it clearly is). 

It is particularly unsatisfactory because it suggests that we cannot change. 

In fact, everything we know suggests that domestic and intimate violence is not inevitable, and that women and men, whether victims or perpetrators, are effective agents for change.  While this may seem counterintuitive in the face of continued domestic violence worldwide, it is notable that in those societies or communities where intimate violence is stigmatized and reviled, the violence abates. 

Consider the cases of local communities in South Africa and India where women and men respond to the beatings of a neighbor by assembling outside the perpetrator’s house and banging on pots and pans, or ringing the doorbell.  While the sample sizes on these projects are too small to say whether a scaled-up version would help to stop domestic violence altogether, the involvement of a small number of very vocal activists lead to broader community involvement and desire for change.

Moreover, in countries where the elimination of domestic violence is seen as a political priority, supported by comprehensive policies, strong political rhetoric from the highest level, and resources, the prevalence of violence does go down over time.

Indeed, the clearest success factor in interventions on domestic violence seems to be societal.  The violence continues where it is ignored and abates where it is stigmatized. In this sense, both Rihanna’s video and the BBC report could contribute in a positive way to combating domestic violence.  Violence against women in the home, sadly, is rarely newsworthy.  Violence against men and music videos are. 

Hopefully, the discussion generated by Rihanna and the BBC will, in time, move away from whether or not a music video should show murder and whether men are more or less victimized than women.  The truth of the matter is that we are all affected by living in a society that does not, summarily, condemn violence in intimate relationships.  We need to start banging our pots about that. 

With reported rapes, the DSK case is the exception

@LATimes

The charges filed recently against former IMF chief Dominique Strauss-Kahn have perpetuated a myth: that the U.S. justice system moves swiftly and effectively to resolve allegations of sexual assault.

In the wake of Strauss-Kahn's arrest, the media, particularly in Europe, have highlighted the perceived equality and fairness of a justice system that allows an immigrant single mother with relatively few financial resources to challenge an internationally renowned politician who is able to post a $1-million cash bail. To be sure, this is a remarkable situation, but unfortunately it is not the experience of the vast majority of those who report rapes in this country.

Strauss-Kahn may or may not be guilty, but we do know that every two minutes someone is sexually assaulted in the United States, according to the Department of Justice's Crime Victimization Survey. We also know that an estimated 60% of these assaults go unreported.

So the question is, do the 40% who are not reluctant to contact the authorities for help actually see justice done?

The answer: It depends.

Nationally, police arrest a suspect in only half of the sexual assault complaints they receive. Most of those arrested are prosecuted, but fewer than two-thirds of those prosecuted are convicted. Moreover, not all those convicted are sentenced to incarceration. In the end, an estimated 1 out of 16 rapists spends time in jail.

Some jurisdictions have better records than others. In 2009, Human Rights Watch published a report about the appalling response to sexual violence in Los Angeles County, where arrest figures had been declining and — more to the point — the physical evidence taken from rape victims that might have helped lead to a DNA match and a prosecution was systematically filed away without being sent for testing. The situation in Los Angeles has improved since then, but there are other places where this isn't the case. In 2010, we published a report about Illinois, showing similar problems.

In fact, the prevailing failure to try to convict rapists is directly related to the way police and prosecutors treat victims, their testimony and the evidence. It is telling that the media description of the alleged victim in the Strauss-Kahn case highlights her religious devotion and life struggles — factors that in many people's eyes would make her a more credible witness. But victims without those attributes are often perceived very differently. Police officers sometimes abandon a rape case because, based on initial interviews and context alone, they don't believe the alleged victim is a credible witness.

Research suggests that 3% to 8% of rape complaints are false — similar to the proportion of other crime complaints. But researchers have found that police officers are much more likely to mistrust an alleged rape victim than they are to mistrust other victims, particularly if the woman alleging sexual assault doesn't conform to police notions of how a woman should act.

This course of action may seem logical: Few would want the police to waste valuable resources on investigations of crimes that didn't really happen. However, experience from jurisdictions such as New York — where all rape kits, as the physical evidence is called, are processed — reveals that a subjective analysis of victim credibility can be wrong. After New York decided to test every rape kit, and not just the ones from cases in which the police officer subjectively felt the allegation was likely to be true, the arrest rate rose over five years from 40% to 70% of complaints filed, and the proportion of convictions grew too. The point here is not that New York's response to sexual violence is perfect but rather that the decision to pursue rape cases — whether or not police find the victim credible by subjective measures — can result in more prosecutions.

The U.S. justice system deals unevenly with sexual violence. A state-by-state analysis of relevant legislation, policies and crime statistics would most likely show that the record is better where victim rights are a priority and where "tough on crime" rhetoric is backed by across-the-board action.

But let's go back to the broader issue of sexual violence and that fact that a woman is sexually assaulted in the United States every two minutes. Whatever the outcome of the proceedings against Strauss-Kahn, this high-profile case has brought the subject of sexual assault into the realm of public discussion, and that is a good thing. But as long as rape and sexual assault are so common in the United States, we can hardly say the system is working just fine.

Common Sense Abortion Policy

@TheHill

Abortion should not be a hard, divisive issue – at least not politically.

This week, Gallup released its annual survey on how the US public feels about it.  For the past 10 years, the figures have hovered around the same lines, with about 50 percent saying they believe abortion is morally wrong, and around 40 percent said they believe it to be morally acceptable. Older people and Republicans score higher than others on being “pro-life” and seeing abortion as “morally wrong.”

The survey also tracks how the American public feels about abortion policy. Between 50 and 60 percent say abortion should be legal in some circumstances.  Another 20 to 30 percent believe it should always be legal, and 15 to 20 percent say it should always be banned. 

Considering that discussions about abortion during the annual budget season in Congress this year threatened to shut down the federal government, some politicians might be tempted to scrutinize the Gallup survey for hints on the most politically expedient position to take on this issue.

That would be a bad idea.

Surveys on morals generally make for poor policy-making tools, not least because they can be read selectively. One Catholic blog celebrated the fact that 72 percent of those surveyed this year want abortion illegal, at least in some circumstances.  But if you read the figures from the opposite side of the debate, they show that a higher percentage of those surveyed (77 percent) believe abortion should be legal, at least in some circumstances.  Neither reading would be particularly helpful in crafting a policy response to abortion that allows for real, informed, and healthy choices.

Instead, politicians should be looking at studies on contraception use, current abortion practices, and pregnancy.

Because, if they do that, they’ll find that 1 in 5 women in the United States feel they need to terminate a pregnancy at some point in their lives.  Study after study has shown that women and girls have abortions when they need them, regardless of the legal or political context.  Knowing this, politicians should realize that the only two things a government can affect through legislation and policies are 1) to what extent abortions are needed; and 2) to what extent abortions are safe.  That makes the job of forming abortion policy a lot easier and less divisive. Few would contend that they wouldn’t want to reduce the need for abortion. And few would want abortions to be unsafe.

Abortion is obviously scarcer in situations in which women get pregnant when they want to be, and when they are in a position to expand their families.  This requires not only access to contraception and scientifically based sex education, but also paid family leave and support for child care.

Or look at it from another perspective. In countries where abortion is illegal, it is rarely scarce.  In Argentina, where abortion is criminalized for most women, an estimated 40 percent of all pregnancies terminate in abortions.  In Peru, with a similar legal framework, that proportion is 37 percent, and in Chile, where all abortion is illegal, the proportion is 35 percent. In Mexico and the United States, where the legality and access to abortion varies widely from state to state, the proportion is 20 percent. (All percentages calculated by using public figures on abortions and annual live births.)  

So in fact, where abortion is illegal, it is equally if not more prevalent than in jurisdictions where it is legal. And where abortion is illegal, it is much more likely to be unsafe.  

So, policy-wise, abortion is easy.

Of course, this does not mean that abortion doesn’t generate strong feelings.  Most everywhere, the issues related to abortion are framed as a “battle,” either for women’s lives, rights, and health, or for the life of the unborn child.  Positions are presented and regarded as immovable and based on fundamental rights. 

And it also does not mean that terminating a pregnancy doesn’t present complex questions about the worth of human life, and about when a human being begins to exist.

And it definitely does not mean that the emotions that come with facing an unwanted or unhealthy pregnancy are uncomplicated or straightforward or always lead to the conclusion we expect.  I have spoken with ardent supporters of abortion rights who have chosen to carry unplanned pregnancies to term because they felt a child grow inside them.  And I have spoken with equally ardent supporters of abortion bans who have chosen to terminate pregnancies because they just could not face having a child.

But it does mean that surveys on morals are not useful in shaping effective policies on abortion. Instead, if policymakers want to make policy that has some impact on how frequently abortion is used, they should look to research on the social, economic, and health factors that affect a woman’s ability to plan her pregnancy in the first place.  That is what makes the difference.

How Not to Address Teen Pregnancy

This past weekend, New Zealand found itself in the midst of a loud public debate over the case of a  teenager who procured an abortion with the support of her school counselor, without  informing her parents. The parents were angry, and much was said about the ethics, propriety, and legality of the situation.

The main issue was not whether abortion should be legal there (it is) or whether the state may be justified in limiting access (it  does).  The question was whether parents have a right to interfere with (or at least know about) their daughter’s decision.  New Zealand law says they don’t.  In the United States, over 40 state legislatures and the Supreme Court have come to the opposite conclusion.

In the United States, as in New Zealand, the arguments for parental involvement laws include an assertion that they contribute to lower teenage pregnancy and abortion rates, and that they improve family communication.  There is no evidence to support this. The clearest documented impact in the United States of these laws has been an increase in the number of minors traveling outside their home states to get abortions in states that don’t mandate parental involvement or  have less restrictive laws.

Moreover, the American Academy of Pediatrics has noted that parental involvement laws don’t  promote family communication, though  they  increase the risk of harm to the adolescent by delaying access to appropriate medical care.  In fact, most teenagers who seek abortions—in particular younger teens—voluntarily seek their parents’ involvement, regardless the law.  And research has shown that adolescents who are strongly opposed to informing parents for fear of a negative or coercive response tend to predict family reactions accurately.

A stronger argument for parental involvement is that an abortion is a serious medical procedure, and the child should be able to count on her family for support. This is indisputable.  What is under dispute in the recent debate in New Zealand—and what should be under dispute in the United States—is whether these laws help increase that support, or whether they can have the opposite effect.  Just because the US Supreme Court has said that parental involvement laws are constitutional doesn’t mean they are helpful either in preventing pregnancy -- or in helping a young girl who finds herself pregnant.

Many American politicians decry the US teenage pregnancy rate, which is roughly three times the rates in  Germany and France, more than four times  the Netherlands rate, and 50 percent higher than New Zealand’s. 

There are good reasons to seek to prevent teenage pregnancy. First of all, early pregnancy can have adverse physical health consequences.

And having to care for  a child affects access to education, employment, and public life for the young mother—and perhaps for her baby as well. Changes in the mother’s life from an unplanned pregnancy can be surprising and even oppressive. And teenage pregnancies are more often than not unintended.

There are plenty of good answers to what to do about high teenage pregnancy rates. They include ensuring that teenagers both know how to prevent pregnancies (scientifically based sex education) and have access to the means to do so (modern contraception).  There are also more intangible factors, such as positive body image for girls, policies that promote gender equality, and greater openness about sex. Studies have shown that countries that score high on all of these points tend to have lower levels of teenage pregnancy and in many cases abortion.

The United States has a long way to go to ensure access to age-appropriate, comprehensive sex education and modern contraception, and US teens could certainly use support in developing positive notions of their bodies, gender equality, and healthy sexuality.

But rather than investing in these areas, state legislatures are marching forward with more and more legal restrictions on access to information and abortions, including parental notification or consent,  and mandatory waiting periods and sonograms.  These laws are heavy in government intervention and  don’t deter teen pregnancies.   

US legislatures would be better off considering what policies would best protect the rights of the pregnant girl to have the health information and services she needs, to be consulted and heard in matters that concern her, and to have her best interests protected by the state. These questions were raised this weekend in New Zealand.  It is high time they are raised in the United States as well.