Executive-legislative relations and political pragmatism

Findings from my fieldwork show that there were – and still remains – a certain resistance to the parity law among some of the male parliamentarians. This is not an unexpected reaction:

when quotas are introduced in male-dominated legislatures, the zero-sum game presupposed that as the number of women increase, the number of men must decrease (Murray, Krook, and Opello 2011). In Senegal, the parity critics argue that the law violates the rule of equality before the law (D. Wade, interview, November 2015) and promotes favouritism rather than merits (Sy, interview, November 2015) and some see their interests threatened (M. Kane, interview, November 2015). According to one of the female ex-parliamentarians, a majority of men were against the law but voted for it anyway: “It’s because of the majority

phenomenon, and the chief of the party decides. So Wade said ‘Let’s vote!’” (Fatou Touré interview, November 2015). This is not an unlikely scenario: as already stated, the Senegalese presidency holds great powers, and the National Assembly rarely votes down his proposals.

He also exercises control over parliament through offering patronage goods and possibilities in the absence of a strong party discipline (Thomas and Sissokho 2005). This is typical in African countries with weakly institutionalized party systems; patronage links matter more (Goetz and Hassim 2003).

In France, parity was adopted after a vote in the National Assembly and the Senate in 1999, even though many were against it. This is partly explained by pragmatism and strategic choices from parties, and strong pressure from both party leaders and the president. In France and Senegal, parity was on the political agenda in the period leading up the presidential elections, a period that “have long been used as an opportunity for agenda setting by interest groups, as candidates are keen to attract voters and take on board new ideas. Feminist groups have exploited such opportunities by using the argument of wooing the women’s vote”

(Murray et al. 2011, 537). None of the French presidential candidates wanted to publicly oppose parity, especially due to the high media coverage and polls showing public support for measures increasing women’s representation. In France, this led conservative parties to vote for parity even though they were against it, since they were not in a majority position to win.

Also, the Senate originally voted down the proposal, but changed their mind under heavy pressure from president Chirac (R. Murray, Krook, and Opello 2011). This shows that ideology and personal convictions do not always decide which proposals get passed in legislative bodies. Especially not in a political system with a strong president with much political will and women’s groups’ pressures in a political climate favouring women’s representation.

The above factors can help explain how such a radical quota law came to be in the Senegalese context, where Islam is an important part of everyday life and where the marabouts are said to exercise much indirect political power. As already stated, some scholars find a negative relationship between religion, and particularly Islam, and women’s representation in

parliaments in Muslim-majority countries is lower than in the rest of the world. However, as noted by Tripp (2013), many of the African countries that have adopted gender quotas have a significant Muslim population, like Mauritania, Senegal, Sudan, Eritrea, Niger and Somalia.

Tripp and Kang (2007, 356) claim that Muslim countries outside the Middle East show higher levels of women’s representation than within the Middle East, which suggests that women’s representation is connected to region rather than religion. Ross (2008) claims something similar, focusing on the importance of oil rather than Islam in this matter. Dependency on oil

production leads to fewer women in the workforce, which gives women less political influence. As a consequence, “oil-producing states are left with atypically strong patriarchal norms, laws and political institutions” (M. Ross 2008, 107). Another argument for a more nuanced view on Islam and women’s representation is presented by Ertan (2011), who looks at the relationship between state and religion. In cases where the state and Islam is fused, women’s representation is lower. However, in secular Muslim states like Senegal, Islamic heritage has not been a barrier to women’ political representation. These factors may help explain why we now see the introduction of quotas in countries such as Senegal, where religion continues to play an important role (Kang and Tripp 2007, 357).

This does not mean that religion is irrelevant when it comes to the discussion of parity. In fact, according to my informants, most of the resistance to the parity law come from the marabouts, who used arguments based on religion stating that women and men are not equal (Kiné Diop & Ka, interview, November 2015). Furthermore, some of the fiercest parity-sceptics within parliament are said to belong to religious families. However, religious opposition was not enough to stop the quota law from happening when faced with both international and domestic pressure from the president and women’s organisations. We also need to take into account the “lack of uniformity” of the Senegalese society in order to understand the quota adoption (Creevey 2004, 62-63). On one side there is the importance of Islam and its leaders, which has marked the link between politicians and the people, and has indirectly influenced policies by embracing different candidates. On the other side, politics are dominated by the often Western-educated urban elites focusing on the modernisation and development of Senegal. It is not unlikely that their political conviction is fuelled by the international climate. Creevey (2004) claims that the rural Muslim leaders’ powers are in decline, “in favour of the more individually directed urban voters” (Creevey 2004, 63), a tendency that seems to be affirmed by the quota adoption. Senegal is very concerned with its international reputation, perhaps especially as a peaceful, modern and democratic stronghold in a volatile region. The pragmatism of political elites has put them in a position where they perhaps see bigger benefits from pursuing women-friendly policies in line with international norms rather than being backed by religious leaders.

However, the case of Touba shows that Senegal is still somewhat caught in the middle in this matter. Although religious counter-mobilisation was not dominant when parity was adopted, religious forces are still trying to stop parity from being implemented. Political parties are

usually responsible of composing candidate lists for elections. However in Touba, this responsibility lies with the Khalif himself. In the 2014 local election, the Khalif presented an all-male candidate list of 100 candidates. Not surprisingly, the Electoral Commission

(CENA), concluded that Touba did not respect parity (Leral.net 2014). The Khalif however publicly refused to succumb. He stated that there will never be parity in Touba, and that the only law this city follows is the Sharia (Le Dakarois 2016). While non-compliance to parity has led CENA to reject party lists elsewhere, this has not yet happened in Touba. In fact, in 2014, CENA and the Minister of Interior reached an agreement on the “specificity of Touba”

and that the “sociological realities of Senegal” should be taken into account in the

development and implementation of laws (Faye 2014). According to my informants, Touba has a special status de facto, but not de jure: “In the juridical framework, there is no special status for a religious city… But it shows that in reality, on a sociological level, there is a part of the territory that is different” (Cartelette, interview, November 2015). Another informant stated that CENA had let Touba pass without sanctions it because “you do not touch the marabouts” (Samb Dia, interview, November 2015). This indicates that the power of the marabouts has not yet disappeared: “In addition to religious importance, Touba also holds economical importance in this country. And that is the reality of things” (Kiné Diop,

interview, November 2015). In other words, the fight for parity does not seem to be over yet.

6 The symbolic effects of the parity law

6.1 Introduction

The previous chapter shows how and why the parity law was adopted in Senegal. It also indicates that the initiative to the law was based on expectations of changes in women’s symbolic representation. In this chapter I will explore whether these expectations have been met or not. I start by analysing interviews from my fieldwork in order to examine whether symbolic effects from the parity law has occurred within the National Assembly. I then move on to symbolic effects outside the National Assembly, by analysing survey data of public opinion. My findings show that there are some limited attitudinal changes among the political elites, but that this depends on how symbolic representation is operationalized. As for public opinion, the parity law seems to have caused a polarisation of opinions along gender lines, which suggests that people react differently to quotas.