alanoud alsharekh

On the championing of women’s rights in the Kuwait and developing a grounded education culture

Describe your own education and experiences that lead you to study and champion women's issues.

I hold a Bachelor’s Degree in English from King’s College, London, where I graduated with honors in 1996. I completed my post-graduate education at the School of Oriental and African Studies (SOAS) in London, earning a Master’s Degree in Applied Linguistics and English-Arabic Language and Translation and a PhD Near and Middle Eastern Studies – Comparative Literature and Feminism. I came back to Kuwait having completed my master’s in the UK at a seminal moment of women asking for their political rights. I got really involved in that movement. That changed my trajectory from purely interested in literature to really focusing on feminism and feminist literature. The comparative aspects of feminist literature and understanding questions of gender and citizenship from that essentially made it a human rights issue for me. My anger and frustration at the marginalization of women fueled both pursuits. Essentially, my academic findings became a way to solidify my activist interests, which were in human rights and women's rights. Consequently, women’s empowerment became one of the main focuses of my consultancy, Ibtkar.

What was your experience when you began working on Gender Studies in the Gulf?

The most frustrating aspect of working in a conservative country like Kuwait is that people equate traditions with religion and project that on gender roles in a manner that is convenient to them. Silencing voices of dissent with absolutist arguments is a repetitive strain on gender advocacy whether you are lobbying for curriculum reform, increased visibility for females in leadership positions or putting an end to violent legislation. Traditions are subjective truths that could drastically differ from one household to the next. From one socio-political background or ethnicity to the next, these practices can differ greatly. Imposing one group’s “traditions” on the other is a form of tyranny.

You have written about the cycle of "feminine, feminist and female." What is the distinction between each of them and how is the cycle pertinent to education?

This tripartite structure in the rise of feminist consciousness in literary texts was first highlighted by Elaine Showalter as a linear development from one era to another. I equate that with simply being aware that, as a woman, you are denied rights based solely on your biology and it comes across in these women’s writing in three different stages, “feminine, feminist and female”. The first of these phases is awareness, although the call for more rights is muted.  The second phase typically features an increasing demand for rights for women and more radicalization. The last phase is the most balanced, both from the language of demands perspective and a literary one. In my book, I argue that, depending on the specific country, not only do these three states of awareness of social status exist simultaneously in the Arab world, they are also accompanied by a rise in activist demands that could affect the writer’s artistic style. The title “Angry words, softly spoken” relates to this notion of soft anger, and, in the “feminine cycle”, the softness overwhelms and  waters down activism demands. In the political feminist stage, the opposite happens. In the more mature female stage, there is equilibrium. 

You have also written about women and taboos. What structural challenges do Khaleeji women face in overcoming taboos in both education and society?

There are many visible and insidious cultural practices that dominate “civilized” behavior in our region, and many centre around women being of a subservient status to men. The dismissive attitude towards pushing the agenda for women in leadership positions and casual sexism espoused by MPs and media personalities remains unchallenged and indulged as a benign reflection of the status quo. It’s in our media, our curriculums and our legal system. We are part of the wave that is challenging it, but, for many, standing up against traditions carries too high a price. Leaving the obvious issues of disciplinary violence and guardianship aside, let's focus on something that seems more benign on the surface: like diwaniya or majliss culture. This culture is prevalent in our part of the world, and women have no access to it. This means that women have no access to the “behind-the-scenes” networking and decision making that goes on there. Consequently, women are often left out of major policy changes and are overlooked for jobs and positions as a result.

You defined the “diwaniyya culture”, as a “network of alliances and pressure groups that influence leadership ascent.” Similar circles of influence exist across the Gulf. Are women excluded from such networks? How can educational institutions facilitate the development of either alternative networks or the assimilation of women into the existing structures?

I don’t think that the solution lies solely in educational institutions, which could be a player by highlighting these issues and teaching students to look for and challenge their own cognitive biases. The solution lies mainly in legislative and punitive measures that ensure that women would get a fair chance based on merit and their qualifications, and not get overlooked or excluded because of segregated power broking systems like diwaniyas. We need to enforce policies that encourage parity and demand more appointed positions for capable females, in a similar fashion to what has been witnessed in the UAE relatively recently. The change must also embrace grassroots movements and take into account what women’s organisations and NGOs are highlighting as issues, such as violence, nationality rights and  housing. The UAE today has pushed for increased visibility for women and more recognition of their ability to lead as equal partners in progress. By allocating 50% of the Federal National Council to women, the UAE is simultaneously acknowledging and circulating the cognitive bias and unconscious resistance to women as authority figures. In Kuwait the situation will not change without similar political will and the introduction of quotas or legislations that actively promote women in leadership. The government needs to appoint more qualified women in the leadership positions. Additionally, disempowering laws and practices must be discriminated against, such as honor-killing legislations, legislations that allow disciplinary violence and those that differentiate between the rights of citizens in housing and nationality based on gender. I was part of the last wave of women to protest the lack of political rights in Kuwait but we now need to protest the nonchalance with which the weakest among us are being treated. In its 4 years of activism, Abolish 153 has dealt with nearly 90 cases of battered women in Kuwait. The government needs to be their savior. Not just us.

The last decade saw significant advancements for Khaleeji women, including political representation and executive positions. Some critics feel that the changes are symbolic and superficial. What's your opinion of these changes?

Describing these real and important changes as symbolic is unfair. I was part of the last generation to protest the lack of political rights and to see young women fill the voting halls. That right has been a seminal change in my lifetime. I understand that when change comes from a top-down perspective, it is easier to dismiss it as not reflective of the general status quo of a deeply patriarchal society. However, when we assign decision making positions to women as judges, ministers, policy makers, board members and C suite executives, we cause a cognitive shift. People start to recognize that as possible and accept future changes more easily. If anything, I believe that we need more political will from both governments and institutions to push through gender-neutral policies and truly support women’s empowerment through giving them a level playing field with men.  

Terms such as “women leadership” have become prevalent in educational, governmental, and even corporate programs that claim to ‘develop women leaders.’ For some, the term is patronizing and the programs do women a disservice by separating them from their male counterparts. For others, it’s a necessary step to give women access to more opportunities. As somebody who runs a consultancy that assists Kuwaiti women run in parliament, what do you think of the term, and of the programs? Are they enough?

I was in the National Assembly when we lost the bill to gain our political rights in 1999. The arguments to keep women out of the political field that were being made between then and 2005 were offensive, vulgar and ridiculous. Today there are those that would deny women legal and economic equality with men. They make similar arguments for keeping women out of the judiciary, placing them in subordinate roles irrespective of merit and questioning their ability to contribute as legislators altogether. It is still not a level playing field, and there is much that still needs to be done for our girls, but at least no one can deny them their voting rights or curtail their political ambitions through an unconstitutional legal loophole. I am dissatisfied with the pace of progress in Kuwait but I can see exponential change happening in the region with regards to women and youth. I am referring to the rapid pace of change in both the KSA and the UAE with regard to the inclusion of women and youth and the changing tide towards the politicized “Islamic” rhetoric that would hold women back in the name of religion and tradition. I know we will not be immune to it, so I remain optimistic.

In your opinion, what does our education system need to look like -- for both genders -- in order for our societies to become truly equal in representation, participation, and in access to opportunities for both genders?

We need to look at finding equal opportunities for young people. If young people or women from a certain socioeconomic background are only allowed to engage in the labor market in entry level positions this is going to create huge problems for us in the future. The aspirational underpinnings of any education or any form of ambition is social and economic mobility. If there is a ceiling on that then you have frustration, anti-establishment movements, and economic and cultural regression. Yes, I strongly believe in gender equality in terms of legal rights and opportunities, but I also believe in the need to investigate ways to make it accessible for people from different socioeconomic backgrounds and young people.

How did these education systems, and the changes that were made to the informal, more familiar systems, affect society? What impact did it have on lifestyle?

Formalizing education resulted in many expected shifts. Families and individuals would move to urban centers to obtain state education. Families began to see the value of formal education in getting access to state employment and the benefits of regular income. And of course, with increased literacy comes improved livelihoods, as people can better access information related to their health, employment, rights, etc. In just 50 years we went from having very low literacy rates to nearly 99% of the population being literate. I personally remember being in primary school and buying a notebook to teach my grandmother the alphabet (a natural born educator, I suppose) as she had no formal education whatsoever, was completely illiterate and could not read numbers or letters. Her children all attended formal school, her son went to study engineering in the US and her three grandchildren (myself included) completed their higher education abroad.

How about standardization of education in the GCC, and Saudi Arabia specifically? How does this impact the quality of education individuals receive, and society overall?

Generally speaking, the GCC state education systems are heavily standardized, with a  centralized curriculum that is set and governed by an official body. The relative small size of GCC countries makes standardizing national curriculums and implementing this relatively easy. Saudi Arabia, being much larger, also has a very standardized national curriculum, but due to the size of the country and the diversity of its population, the delivery of the standard curriculum varies considerably from one classroom to another, and more significantly region to region, depending on the location of the school and the makeup of the student body. Teachers and administrators ‘enact’ policy in different ways based on these variables, and on personal interpretations of policy.

Additionally, the political context and historical moment that information is delivered in influences the way students interpret and understand it. This makes standardization complicated. For instance, many of the messages about women’s status at home and women’s employment may have been readily acceptable in a time when less opportunities existed for women to work. As labour policies push to change this, the texts tend to become less relevant as time goes on, beginning first with skepticism in more urban centers, amongst some families, etc and eventually shifting the status quo (albeit with pockets of persisting resistance).  

Policy makers tend to look for functional solutions, and their technical approach to social development means that people are viewed as inputs in the economy rather than social agents. In looking at young people as an input, you tend to standardize your approach to education. This theory is known as “human capital theory”: the more is invested in the human (in the form of education and training), the more productive they will be. As the state sets the standards of what these investments look like, those who access the ‘right’ kind of education will have more opportunities available to them. So there is often some upward mobility when education becomes available in places it previously had not been, mainly due to the employment opportunities that become available as a result. For example, Saudi Arabia has a very specific list of job titles that categorize people into specific roles. If, for instance, someone pursues education in a different field (like international relations), the value of that investment is often lower than an investment in a more traditional field, such as engineering or medicine.

In reality, standardized education often leaves some students behind. For one, the resources that some students have access to due to their socio-economic background can lead to higher achievement in the classroom, which in turn gives already privileged students more opportunities because they tend to perform better. Only 10% of the Saudi population pursue private education at the primary/secondary level. Private education often means that they learn literacy and computing skills earlier and develop more advanced skills that give them access to higher positions and set them up for faster job progression and salary increases. They will most likely have more future opportunities than those who have access to fewer resources and “social capital.” These “less privileged” students may then be labeled as ‘failures’ and not given the support that they need to put their personal capabilities to better use.

Additionally, the opinions, beliefs and backgrounds of policy makers and curriculum developers becomes (often invisibly) embedded in the education policy. While much of the system was designed by consultants, the curriculum has evolved and texts are written and reviewed by committees that tend to be male-dominated (or exclusively male), and who are part of the same network and have had very similar educational backgrounds. These ideas may not resonate with some students and inevitably put them at a disadvantage. Indeed, many social inequalities are replicated within the classroom in this way, and without explicit policies (which aren’t always effective) built into the system, this phenomenon will only be perpetuated.

You mentioned earlier that there are forms of knowledge, such as history and culture, that we “forget, avoid, or neglect to celebrate.” What impact does that have on our society and the quality of our education? Do we have an “education culture and consciousness” in the Khaleej, and how can we develop one?

Today, education reformers focus on two things: privatizing education and moving into the new digital age. The idea for privatization stems from an inherent belief that the state system is broken and cannot be fixed, and this extends into the digitization where we believe that teachers are incapable of taking our children into the 21st century equipped with the necessary skills. In both cases, those driving these pushes are certain that they can fix something that is “broken.” The approach is very prescriptive, and in my opinion, patronizing. The solutions are very seldomly based on empirical local needs, wants, and aspirations. I think that our problem is we are obsessed with the future, with development, with modernity, that we forget that there is a wealth of fascinating local knowledge (albeit with political influences and superimposed curriculum). We can develop an education culture and consciousness by listening more closely to everyone, especially students, about how they connect to their local and global worlds, and how we can foster these aspirations and turn that into positive energy for growth and development.