Beyond representation

Gilgit Baltistan as a case study

The political elite of Pakistan has learnt the art of women empowerment. Parties are talking about inclusion and, bask in visibility, and reserved seats are the sign of a democratic advancement. However, this language tends to hide an even more awkward truth: women might be represented in politics, without being given a chance to compete in it on equal terms.

That distinction matters. The concept of representation and contest are different. It is possible to control representation on an upper level; it is not possible to control contest. Representation may be provided by way of party routes; contest means that parties will give up real electoral space, devote resources, and give credit to women as separate claimants to political power. The former is tolerated in most of Pakistan. The second, even yet, is opposed.

There is no lack of competent women in Pakistan. What it does not have is the political bravery to treat them as equals and not as the instruments of party strategy.. The language of empowerment will continue to be bigger than the reality until parties are prepared to give up real electoral space, as opposed to symbolic space. The more difficult truth is that. Women are never out of politics. They are in it on an unequal footing

Gilgit-Baltistan depicts the issue in a strange manner. It has a total of 33 seats in its assembly; 24 general seats, six women seats and three technocrat and professional seats. Such a set-up will ensure that women have some representation in the legislature. But assured presence does not equate equal access to political power. A system can be one that accommodates women in the ultimate make-up of an assembly and yet deprives them of equitable access to the field in which political power is being literally won: the allocation of party tickets, contests in constituencies, source of campaign funds and local bargaining.

Here lies the evasive commentary of many. The simplest reason is to put the blame on the society. The society is conservative, politics in the constituency is dominated by the males and change is slow. All this is not a lie. And it is a good excuse as well. The decisions are made by political parties. They determine the electable individuals, who gets organisational support, who gets financed and who gets the ultimate defence during a tough race. That is not just culture at work when women are under-nominated, under-funded or restricted to a form of representation that is controlled. It is party politics.

And that is the main failure of democracy. Parties usually feel free to embrace women as voters, mobilisers, symbols and demonstrations of progressive interest. They are less prepared to embrace them as independent political agents with the potential to disrupt local patronage systems, disrupt male monopolies in constituency politics and develop legitimacy themselves. Women come in handy when they expand the moral image of the party. They cause inconveniences when they take space that already is occupied by men.

Reserved seats are important and there is no grave reason to reject them. Such mechanisms can open doors in society, which would be closed, in unequal societies. Still, they too have boundaries and, masquerading as such, have become one of the more accessible versions of self-admiration in Pakistani politics. When reserved representation is not a path to competition, but instead a replacement of competition, then it runs the risk of establishing an order of segregation: men are allowed to fight the election battle, and women are channelled through controlled mechanisms once the battle has been won.

Such risk is not an ideal. During the 2020 election to the Gilgit-Baltistan Assembly, only four women competed. Concurrently, FAFEN said that women constituted a significant proportion of the electorate and the gender disparity in the electoral register had increased to nine percent. The moral is self-evident. Women are already the focus of the democratic public as voters, but peripheral to the forms of organisation of candidacy and power.

This is one of the reasons why the argument should not be based on headcounts. It is not the question whether there are women somewhere in the system or not, where they are, and under what conditions. Is it via open contest or through controlled nomination that they are venturing into politics? Are they receiving winnable constituencies, and serious campaign resources, or just given a token appearance? Can they establish their own power, or must they be content to hold space, which is in any event conditional on the party leadership, and male patronage?

The representation celebration will be superficial until those questions are raised. Democracy cannot be considered by the seat occupants after distribution of seats. It must also be determined by who is allowed to stand before the electorate as an equal. When women are invited to become a part of assemblies and are relegated to the periphery of competitive politics, then it is not merely the issue of under-representation. It is inclusion that is handled.

Managed inclusion is no empowerment. It is a more advanced type of exclusion.

There is no lack of competent women in Pakistan. What it does not have is the political bravery to treat them as equals and not as the instruments of party strategy.. The language of empowerment will continue to be bigger than the reality until parties are prepared to give up real electoral space, as opposed to symbolic space.

The more difficult truth is that. Women are never out of politics. They are in it on an unequal footing.