Sunday, November 27, 2022
Lack of women’s rights in #Qatar means even the privileged like me must do as men say
In the Gulf state, women go to university and walk the streets safely. But one Qatari woman, 23, describes how men remain their ‘guardians’ for their whole lives.
As people around the world watch videos of men smiling and waving flags outside Doha’s stadiums, they are only seeing one side of the story: what this country is like for a man. In fact, they probably aren’t seeing many women at all.
I’m a 23-year-old Qatari woman, and I don’t longingly look out towards the West and think, “I wish I wasn’t so oppressed.” Western experiences aren’t all the same. But since I was a child, I’ve come up against rules and restrictions that limit my freedom.
The moment that I realised I was being treated differently from my brothers was when I was three or four, and I came home from a day out with my family. My three brothers went with my father to the majlis, a room where he would entertain male visitors. I was not allowed in because I was a girl.
Money affords me privileges that others can’t dream of. In Qatar we don’t have a nuclear family structure like in the West. If you’re born into privilege, there are other people involved. Our family had a driver, a housemaid, nannies and a gardener. My first language isn’t Arabic — it’s English, because that’s the language in which I spoke to my nanny, who was Sri Lankan. In many ways I was closer to her than my own mother. Girls go to school in Qatar. I attended a fee-paying school and studied the British curriculum, but education is free to all citizens.
Not all Qatari women wear the veil. When I was 12 or 13, my parents asked if I had thought about it, and if I had decided what I might like to do, if I wanted to wait or had any questions. I decided to say yes, so I started wearing a type of turban at first to cover my hair, then later I started wearing the shayla and the abaya.
Many women go to university as I do. In fact there are more female university graduates in Qatar than males. But that’s often where opportunity ends: the employment rate in Qatar for men is double that of women. As a woman, your priority is to get married and have children. I’ve heard of many women being told by their families that they weren’t allowed to go horse riding or cycling, because their virginity would be ruined and they would be impure. Once when I was a teenager, my aunt told me: “After God, the next person you obey is your husband.”
But today the birth rate is falling, as women pursue careers. Qatari women are also subject to a guardianship system, which is part of sharia. Women need the permission of a guardian, usually a father or brother, to marry, to get government jobs and to apply for a university scholarship. Once married, their guardian is then their husband. Women under 25 must ask permission from their guardian to leave the country.
Culturally, however, guardianship can last a lifetime. A woman’s husband can take out a travel ban to prevent her from leaving the country at any age, and airport officials have been known to stop women from leaving the country on their own. There is no one to appeal to; there are no anti-discrimination laws.
Most women my age hate the guardianship rules, and things are changing in Qatar, but culture is slow to follow. As of January 2020 women don’t need permission to drive, but my father won’t allow it. He said to me, “What if you get into a car crash? Will people see you on the street arguing with a man?” There have been academic trips abroad that I haven’t been allowed to go on. I wanted to study in the UK, but he forbade it. He said, “What will people say when they find out my daughter is sleeping in a house that isn’t mine?”
For my dad, it’s not really about anything other than what other people will say. Everyone knows everyone here. I have tried to fight him so many times, but sometimes you have to pick your battles. I am due to get married to a man who asked my parents for permission, and to whom I have also said yes — that’s how it works here (I’ve already rejected a couple of proposals because they didn’t feel right). The man I’m marrying is a friend of my family’s, and I think he shares a lot of my feminist values, too. From the messages we’ve been sending each other, we seem to be clicking really well. We have met, but only with our families there.
Some of my friends don’t want to get married, because they’re afraid that the person they’ll end up with is going to be more oppressive than their parents. That’s always a risk. There are no laws on rape within marriage. There is contraception, but not emergency contraception such as the morning-after pill, and abortion is only legal in cases of abnormalities with the foetus. Even then, a man must provide consent.
Women can write the terms they want their husband to adhere to in a marriage certificate. They might say something like: “You can’t stop me from getting an education; you can’t stop me from driving,” so that if your husband goes against them, you have proof that he’s violated the terms you agreed to. But unfortunately, not a lot of women do that — it’s seen as bad taste for the woman to ask, and a slight on her husband’s family. Qatari women can’t get a divorce easily. I know some older people who are trapped in marriages that are oppressive, that are physically and emotionally abusive, and yet they can’t escape. If you have children, the father is their legal guardian, and he can stop them leaving the country. The law in Qatar is not there to protect women; it is there to empower men. And there is no way to speak out about it. I have TikTok and Instagram, and often women use Twitter to talk about these topics — sometimes anonymously. Not a lot of Qatari women show their faces online, it’s still a sort of taboo.I do have some freedom, though. I go to the mall and have even walked around Doha on my own and with friends, against my parents’ wishes. It isn’t the danger; Qatar is very safe. Often it’s so hot that the streets are empty, and I find it scarier to be on the Tube in London. I rarely see migrant workers here, who aren’t allowed to live in Doha and reside in camps outside the city instead. They aren’t allowed to bring their family, and there is a feeling here that they are all bachelors who would do harm to women. On Fridays in the mall they’ll say it’s “family only day”, and that is lingo for “no migrant workers”. For my parents, it is more of a status thing. They don’t want me to be seen walking, because people would think: can’t you afford a car? Why would you use public transport? There are public beaches in Doha with women-only days and private beach clubs too, but I rarely go. You might not see women in the stadiums for the World Cup, but they are there. I have friends and family who have been. I know that there is an argument in the West that the World Cup shouldn’t have been held here but I disagree. I remain optimistic that it can be a force for good. With the world watching closely, there’s nowhere for the government to hide. https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/women-rights-in-qatar-drive-work-study-cdqfl53zk
Why underage marriages are still prevalent in #Pakistan
S. Khan
The recent marriage of a 5-year-old girl in Pakistan's western province of Baluchistan has reignited debate over child protection, and the role of hard-line clergy in family matters.In October, two men in Pakistan's Baluchistan province were arrested after police were tipped off that a 5-year-old girl had been forced into a marriage contract.The girl's uncle said that a local man had insisted the girl marry his son, and forced her father to accept a marriage contract. "We insisted that she is too young to contract a marriage," the girl's uncle told DW, adding that the exchange between the two men had been filmed and then reported to police. The local police chief said those responsible for arranging the marriage had been arrested, but the case was not closed. "We are still trying to trace the cleric who performed the religious ceremony of the marriage contract," he said. This is not an isolated incident. According to UNICEF, Pakistan has nearly 19 million child brides. The UN children's agency estimates that around 4.6 million were married before the age of 15 and 18.9 million before they turned 18."But this is just the tip of the iceberg as very few such cases are reported, because reporting them would stigmatize the family that does so," she said.According to Habib, the country's tribal areas have the most cases of underage marriage. Yasmin Lehri, a former lawmaker from Baluchistan's capital Quetta, said almost all girls in rural and tribal areas of the province were married before the age of 18. "In urban areas, because of growing awareness, girls are married at 18 or older […] but in the rest of the province the situation is very grim," she said.Lehri explained that poverty and economic factors played a significant role, with young girls often exchanged between families to work as laborers.Women and children walk with their belongings towards a higher ground following rains and floods during the monsoon season in Dera Allah Yar, district Jafferabad, Balochistan,Women and children walk with their belongings towards a higher ground following rains and floods during the monsoon season in Dera Allah Yar, district Jafferabad, Balochistan. Religious parties oppose setting minimum marriage age. Across Pakistan, civil society has been at the forefront of fighting to end child marriage, pushing for tougher laws and working closely with communities, authorities and religious groups to change attitudes. Pakistani lawmaker Kishwar Zehra said the country's religious right was the biggest opposition to a law stipulating a minimum marriage age."When a bill setting an age limit was presented in the national assembly's committee, it was strongly opposed by religious-minded lawmakers," she told DW. Maulana Sherani, a former chairman of the Council of Islamic Ideology, has publicly opposed any law setting the minimum age of marriage for girls. The council advises the government on the compatibility of legislation with Islam. In 2014, the council declared child marriage restraint laws "un-Islamic," triggering outrage from civil society and media. When a bill establishing a minimum age was presented in the Baluchistan assembly, religious parties also opposed it, said former lawyer Lehri. Samia Raheel Qazi, a former lawmaker, said the minimum age for marriage for girls should be 18, and that "a massive awareness campaign is needed to root it out, instead of blaming religion and advocating Western values." https://www.dw.com/en/why-underage-marriages-are-still-prevalent-in-pakistan/a-63860202 Skip next section Expl
Opinion: The army is back at the center of #Pakistan’s politics
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By Hamid MirAfter months of intrigue, Pakistan finally has a new army chief. The job is going to Lt. Gen. Asim Munir, a former head of Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), the powerful military intelligence agency. Many Pakistanis breathed a sigh of relief at the news, which has — at least for the moment — warded off fears of a fresh political crisis. The reason: In recent months, ex-prime minister Imran Khan has been pushing for a confrontation with the senior army leadership that some feared might lead to the army announcing martial law. For the moment, at least, that threat appears to have been averted. The current situation would have been hard to predict back in 2018, when Khan became prime minister in an election that has been described as one of the dirtiest in the country’s history, marked by intimidation, corruption and extensive vote-rigging. It is widely assumed that Khan — who was toppled from power by a parliamentary no-confidence vote in April — benefited from the army’s support at the time. Khan’s main political opponent, Nawaz Sharif, blamed then-army chief Gen. Qamar Javed Bajwa for toppling his government. (Khan tried to turn the tables by accusing Sharif of exploiting the army’s support.) During his first months in office, Khan enjoyed close ties with the military. His good relationship with the generals raised his credibility in India’s eyes, which helped him launch many initiatives to normalize relations with Delhi, including a cease-fire achieved last year. But differences soon began to emerge. Gen. Bajwa wanted to move fast in improving relations with India, but Khan was more cautious. In the fall of 2021, Khan became involved in a conflict with the army over the fate of Lt. Gen. Faiz Hameed, whom Khan wanted to retain as the head of the ISI despite the army’s plans to transfer him to another position. Khan’s opponents began to suspect that he was planning to appoint Hameed as the new army chief to achieve his own political objectives. (The current chief of the ISI, Lt. Gen. Nadeem Anjum, recently accused Khan of demanding unspecified “illegal” favors from the military.) When the opposition realized that Khan no longer enjoyed the army’s support, they seized advantage of his vulnerability by removing him through a vote of no confidence. That is the source of Khan’s current grudge against the military: He believes that his former allies betrayed him politically, and he’s been trying to get revenge by doing everything he can in the past few weeks to block the appointment of a new army chief. It’s important to remember that Khan isn’t just an ordinary Pakistani opposition leader — he’s a major power player. His party, the Pakistan Tehreek-e-Insaf (PTI), controls two big provinces, Punjab and Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, as well as two smaller regions, Azad Kashmir and Gilgit-Baltistan. The president of Pakistan, Arif Alvi, is a former member of the PTI; he serves as the supreme commander of the armed forces, meaning that the prime minister is supposed to consult him, at least formally, on the appointment of any new army chief. Khan tried to enlist Alvi’s help to block a new appointment; in the end, though, the president took a more cautious stance, advising Khan not to alienate the new head of the army. Khan’s resentment of the military has led him to extremes. Lately he’s been accusing the army of trying to kill him, blaming a serving general (as well as the government) for involvement in the recent shooting that left Khan wounded. Yet there is zero evidence for the claim. (The shooter, who was arrested, cited religious reasons for the attack, though his motives are not entirely clear.) In recent days, Khan tried to add fuel to his feud with the military by staging a major rally in the garrison town of Rawalpindi. In the end, though, he decided to call off a planned march on nearby Islamabad, the capital, to avoid causing “havoc,” he said. Khan’s attempts to foment instability by stirring up conflict with the army probably serve his larger goal of pushing for fresh elections this winter. Many politicians think that Khan is intentionally trying to provoke a state of martial law because he wants to become a political martyr to avoid disqualification under corruption charges. Khan himself said in a recent interview: “Let there be martial law, I am not scared.” Bajwa, the outgoing head of the army, just gave a speech in which he affirmed that the military will stay out of politics in the future. Yet the fact remains that no issue is generating more public discussion and concern now than the role of the army. Ironically, it’s all thanks to Khan’s maneuverings. If Khan, as he claims, truly supports an apolitical role for the military, he has my support. Remaining neutral will be the biggest challenge for the new army chief. He must prove that he is not taking sides and that he is not more powerful than the parliament, which should be allowed to shape the country’s foreign policy — especially regarding Afghanistan and relations with India — without interference. The new army chief should focus his efforts on the deteriorating law-and-order situation in the areas bordering Afghanistan, where his soldiers are coming under attack every day. But Pakistan’s state of political uncertainty doesn’t end there. Now that his bid to block the army chief appointment has failed, Khan has shocked everyone with a new move: He has announced that the PTI will pull out of the provincial assemblies it controls. He has played his final card. Pakistanis are bracing for what happens next. https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2022/11/26/pakistan-army-chief-imran-khan/