Speed Bumps or Roadblocks: An Analysis of
the Obstacles to Women Candidates in
Lebanon
Abigail Stevens
Student number: 11581875
Supervisor: dr. Afsoun Afsahi
Second reader: dr. Liza Mugge
Master Thesis Political Science
Specialization Political Theory
2018/19
Research project:
1 Introduction ... 1 2 Literature review ... 4 2.1 The Conceptual Foundations of Political Representation ... 5 2.2 Politics of Ideas versus Politics of Presence ... 7 2.3 The Politics of Presence/ Descriptive Representation and Women’s Interests ... 11 3 Methodology ... 19 3.1 Case Selection ... 19 3.2 Context of the Lebanese Case ... 23 3.2.1 Sectarianism ... 23 3.2.2 Extended Kinship System ... 25 3.2.3 Political Familism ... 25 3.3 Research Design ... 27 3.3.1 Data Collection ... 27 3.3.2 Data Analysis ... 30 4 Results ... 31 4.1 Formal Obstacles to Women as Candidates ... 31 4.1.1 Patriarchy and the Lebanese Legal Framework ... 31 4.1.2 The Lebanese Political System ... 37 4.2 Informal Obstacles to Women’s Representation in Lebanon ... 47 4.2.1 Perception of Lebanese women as politicians ... 48 4.2.2 The Agentive Discourse of Motherhood for Women Candidates ... 55 4.3 Solutions ... 62 4.3.1 Encouraging women into politics ... 63 4.3.2 Supporting women already in politics ... 67 5 Conclusion ... 74 6 Bibliography ... 80 7 Appendix ... 85
1 Introduction
On 6th May 2018, 86 women candidates waited for the results of the general election in Lebanon. Many were calling this the ‘Year of the Woman’, with record numbers of women submitting their candidacy (Farhat 2019). However, once the votes were counted, only 6 women were elected, with Lebanon having ‘re-elected its political status quo’ (Khatib 2018). Lebanon has one of the worst records for the number of women parliamentarians in the world. At just 4.7% of its unicameral chamber being made up of women, Lebanon is trailing far behind the Middle East and North Africa’s (MENA) regional average of 19% (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2019). Conversely, Lebanon is considered to have one of the highest rankings of democracy in the region, ranking 4th out of 20 countries in MENA (The Economist Intelligence Unit 2018). It is puzzling that Lebanon is heralded as a liberal, tolerant and democratic country within the Middle East, but possesses one of the lowest numbers of women in parliament in the region, and in the world. Indeed, countries such as Jordan, Egypt, Iraq, and Afghanistan all have significantly more women in their parliaments compared to Lebanon (Inter-Parliamentary Union 2019). According to UN Women (2018), 113 women registered as candidates, with 86 of them making it to electoral lists. Little improvement has been made since 2009, when 4 women were elected (Agence France Presse, 2018).
Nonetheless, various non-governmental organisations (NGOs) in Lebanon have made efforts towards women in politics, by conducting programmes or classes to support women entering into politics. The Lebanese NGO Women In Front (2018a)
created the ‘Counselling Office for Women in Politics’ project, to support women who were running for election. International NGO Hivos also runs a programme called Women Empowered for Leadership (WE4L) which provides skills training and advocacy to women in Lebanon (Hivos, n.d.).
Despite efforts made by these organisations in the 2018 general election, little has changed for women in Lebanese politics. Hence my central research question:
‘What barriers prevent women from reaching elected office in Lebanon, and how can women’s entrance into parliament be better facilitated?’
I wish to understand the obstacles that women face, and how they can be confronted to ensure greater numbers of women in parliament. Literature covering Lebanon focuses primarily on the position of women in Lebanese society. I believe there exists a gap in literature I wish to cover, by focusing specifically on Lebanese women as political candidates. Lebanon’s lack of gender equality and women in parliament contributes to the country’s low ranking of democracy and gender equality (The Economist Intelligence Unit 2018). Hence, my research aims at, not only highlighting the obstacles that women face in becoming representatives, but present ways to address these issues. This problem is of importance, as Lebanon is considered democratic in the Middle East, and has high levels of participation for MENA, according to the Democracy Index (The Economist Intelligence Unit 2018). However, the political system continues to disenfranchise women, who represent more than half of registered voters in Lebanon (United Nations Development Programme 2018). This dichotomy is problematic, and furthers the discourse that high participation from men in politics is sufficient to say the overall system has high participation, which is highly undemocratic. Combining academic literature with interviews of women
candidates and NGO practitioners in Lebanon, I tackle this issue of the lack of women in Lebanese politics.
This paper maps out the obstacles that women in Lebanon face, as a means to provide solutions to how women’s descriptive representation can be facilitated in the country. Firstly, I review the literature surrounding representation and debates surrounding women’s representation specifically. I position myself within this literature, and focus on how descriptive representation is the most beneficial form of representation to gender parity in political representation. I then set out the context of the Lebanese case as the country’s history and political system is complex. I then analyse my research findings from interviews with four Lebanese women candidates who participated in the 2018 general election, and two practitioners from NGOs operating in Lebanon. In the results chapter, I discuss the results of my research in threefold; (4.1) formal obstacles, (4.2) informal obstacles, and (4.3) solutions to the issues women candidates face in trying to become representatives.
The results of my research are as follows. Formal obstacles, such as political familism and the legal framework within Lebanon, inhibit women’s participation in politics, particularly as candidates. I argue that women have to navigate informal obstacles such as negative perceptions of women and pressures to conform to traditional gender roles. However, a significant finding from my research was that women are both constrained by their role of motherhood and empowered by it, as motherhood has been a major source of motivation for most of the candidates I interviewed. Finally, using the data from my interviews and previous literature on
women in Lebanon, I set out conditions to further encourage women into politics and provide solutions to better support those already in the political system.
Research Question
To understand the above puzzle, I have formulated the following research question; What barriers prevent women from reaching elected office in Lebanon and, how can women’s entrance into parliament be better facilitated?
In order to answer this research question, I address three sub-questions; i. How do formal obstacles affect women’s ability to reach elected office?
ii. How do informal obstacles encourage and, or, discourage women’s political participation?
iii. How can women’s political ambitions be encouraged and facilitated in the future?
Through these sub-questions, my research creates a narrative of the obstacles that women have to navigate when running as a candidate in an election in Lebanon. I justify said research questions in the case selection of the methodology chapter. However, I first review the literature on representation, and position myself in current debates.
2 Literature review
In this literature review, I detail the overarching debates by representation theorists before narrowing my focus to the descriptive representation of women, as is the scope of this paper. I address the contributions of feminist scholars such as, Anne
Phillips, Pippa Norris, Joni Lovenduski and Jane Mansbridge in the debates surrounding women’s representation. I then position myself within this literature, and detail how I seek to bridge the gap using my case study of the country, Lebanon, and how there is a distinct need for descriptive representation within this context.
Whilst my work is mostly based on my own empirical research, theoretical work informs empiricism. Here I present the theoretical foundations of my work and establish my research puzzle. In the subsequent chapters I establish how my data informs this body of literature. This literature review is not the extent of all the literature I shall use as I will be discussing how elements of my work inform other research areas such as candidate selection and gatekeeping, electoral rules, quotas, political ambition and the political participation of women. Firstly, I begin with the conceptual foundations of political representation.
2.1 The Conceptual Foundations of Political Representation
When discussing the concept of representation, one cannot go without referencing the seminal work of Hanna Pitkin (1967) in her aptly-named book, The Concept of
Representation. Pitkin organised a typology by which representation is evaluated,
consisting of four categories; formalistic, symbolic, descriptive and substantive representation (Piktin 1967). Each different type of representation is held to a different standard. Pitkin argues that only substantive representation is important and most relevant to democratic society, however, I will later discuss the relevancy of descriptive representation in relation to women’s empowerment as this is a focal point of my research.
Firstly, Pitkin reviews the works of Weber, Hobbes and Voegelin, demarcating their views of representation as formalistic. Hobbes in particular, whilst he may not have emphasised it as such, established the ‘authorisation’ account of representation (Pitkin 1967, p. 38). Authorisation of representation refers to the consent of a group of individuals to be represented by a single individual, the representative (Pitkin 1967). Pitkin addresses some theoretical issues with this account, as ‘authorisation’ alone does not detail how the representative is actually fulfilling their role or if they effectively represent the group (Pitkin 1967, p. 39). Formalistic representation theorists do address accountability in representative democracies, through elections. Elections are a key moment where representatives’ performances are evaluated and held to account (Pitkin 1967, p. 55). Voters may vote them out of office or continue voting for them to show their support. The formalistic views are the basics of representation, democratic or otherwise, and I now discuss the other types of representation Pitkin puts forth.
Substantive, descriptive and symbolic representation address the exact role of the representative for the group and how they are evaluated. Substantive representation is often referred to as ‘acting for’ the represented group. Pitkin (1967) outlines this as the performance or activity of a representative whereby they act on behalf of the group to legislate, represent and so on. Descriptive representation is evaluated based on who the representative actually is and whether they reflect the image of the group they represent (Dovi 2018). Descriptive representation has also been referred to as the politics of presence coined by Anne Phillips (1994b). This form of representation centres on how much the representative looks like the group, has the
same interests as the group, and how much the group look like the representative (Dovi 2018). Mansbridge, a prominent scholar in the fields of representation and democracy defines descriptive representation as,
‘In "descriptive" representation, representatives are in their own persons and lives in some sense typical of the larger class of persons whom they represent. Black legislators represent Black constituents, women legislators represent women constituents, and so on’ (Mansbridge 1999, p. 629).
In line with Pitkin’s view, substantive representation is generally held as the most common form of representation today. Feminist scholars like Jane Mansbridge and Anne Phillips have highlighted many issues with this view. I shall now address the tensions between descriptive and substantive representation, and position myself within the debate.
2.2 Politics of Ideas versus Politics of Presence
The opposing definitions of descriptive and substantive representation are often summarised in the debate between whether a politics of presence or a politics of ideas is more important to democracy and representatives (Phillips 1994a). As detailed by Phillips (1994b) in her article, ‘Dealing With Difference: A Politics of Ideas
or a Politics of Presence?’ she details a tensions between substantive and
descriptive representation. She summarised such debates as a difference between whether you believe in ‘a politics of ideas’, i.e. your interests, beliefs and policy preference are the only things you should vote for or a ‘politics of presence’. Politics of presence is attractive to people that may want to vote for someone who looks like them as they are more likely to understand their needs and preferences; given that
they have had the same or similar lived experiences. Indeed, Phillips positions herself in accordance with this argument as she criticises the politics of ideas by arguing that when political preferences are performed, they are not performed in a vacuum; they are ‘grounded in differential material conditions’ (Phillips 1994b, p. 75). Hence, she argues in favour of the politics of presence. She further argues that ‘Issues of political presence are largely discounted, for when difference is considered in terms of intellectual diversity, it does not much matter who represents the range of ideas’ (Phillips 1994b, p. 76). Phillips showcases a similar critique of Pitkin’s as she states; ‘Think of the legislature as a pictorial representation or a representative sample of the nation, and you will almost inevitably concentrate on its composition rather than its activities’ (Pitkin 1967, p. 226). Here, Pitkin criticises descriptive representation in a bid to bolster the value of substantive representation. For her, if we focus too much on descriptive representation then we begin to focus on what representatives look like and not on what is most important; which are their ideas and how well they represent us substantively. Interestingly, it seems as though critiques of both politics of ideas/ substantive representation and politics of presence/ descriptive representation are congruent. Both Phillips and Pitkin argue that when focusing too much on ideas or presence the other component is lost.
Here, I make a choice to support the politics of presence and side with Phillips’ argumentation, as Pitkin does not address an important weakness to substantive representation. She does not account for positions of engrained privilege, inequality or power (Phillips 1994b, p. 77). In the context of the United Kingdom, it is not difficult to see how certain groups in society end up dominating the Houses of Parliament and in turn political representation. To give an example, there are a
disproportionate number of representatives from the same educational background in the UK parliament. The Sutton Trust reported that ‘Over one third of MPs elected in the 2010 General Election attended independent schools, which educate just 7% of the school population’ (The Educational Backgrounds of Members of Parliament in
2010 2010, p. 2). Additionally, the University of Oxford alone had 102 of its alumni
elected to parliament in 2010 (The Educational Backgrounds of Members of
Parliament in 2010 2010, p. 2). Hence, it is easy to see that there is an issue of
representation in the UK Parliament given that a significant number of representatives come from backgrounds with experiences of privilege. Substantive representation can be an effective form of representation, but it is also easily criticised as it is hard for voters themselves to determine whether representatives are substantively representing them once they are in parliament. Indeed, politicians representing groups with whom they do not share any experiences with must be harder to represent effectively. Representatives are often in a position of power and, as seen from The Sutton Trust’s report, often come from a position of privilege. Those who have had private education are unlikely to have experienced poverty, racism, sexism, ableism or other forms of discrimination. The implication of this is that they are unlikely to understand fully the experiences of those who have been marginalised in society. Hence, they will find it harder to substantively represent someone with whom they have little in common with. Anne Phillips (1994b, pp. 77-78) summarises this sentiment;
‘when the politics of ideas is taken in isolation from the politics of presence, it does not deal adequately with the experience of those social groups who by virtue of their race or ethnicity or religion or gender have felt themselves excluded from the democratic process’.
I concur with Phillips on her ideas of why we need descriptive representation as the argument about representatives substantively representing communities other than their own is not particularly happening, as Pitkin would have pictured. Hence, throughout this paper, I will continue to focus on descriptive representation relating to women’s representation as it is the central issue of this paper.
Descriptive representation is particularly important for marginalised groups. As descriptive representation is evaluated by how much the representative reflects the image, background and lived experiences of the group, this form of representation is particularly prevalent amongst those who have little power in representative democracy. Mansbridge (1999) argues that there are four main reasons as to why someone would want descriptive representation. Firstly, people seek ‘adequate communication in contexts of mistrust’, and secondly ‘innovative thinking in contexts of uncrystalized, not fully articulated, interests’ may provide better representation when interests are unclear (Mansbridge 1999, p. 628). Mansbridge (1999) argues the purpose of these two functions are actually to improve the quality of substantive representation. Hence, whilst she argues that descriptive representation can improve substantive representation, others such as Pitkin think substantive representation is sufficient for representing all groups. Thirdly, Mansbridge believes that descriptive representation can debunk myths that particular groups are unfit to represent and in fact showcases ‘social meaning of “ability to rule” (Mansbridge 1999, p. 628). Finally, she believes that descriptive representation can increase the marginalised group’s political legitimacy that was damaged by discrimination (Mansbridge 1999, p. 628). Given these functions, it is clear to see that descriptive representation does not only
provide representatives who look like the represented; but that there are several significant implications of changing how we represent.
However, Pitkin addresses a negative implication of descriptive representation in that by seeking a representative who has the same or similar experiences as you, the represented group expect the representative to have the same specific views and beliefs as them (Pitkin 1967). By tying the descriptive representative to one particular view, who the representative is does not matter anymore as they are merely the messenger for the group. Hence, the representative elected for their descriptive qualities is not elected based on merit but because they are expected to have the same views as the group. I negate this criticism with a quote from Anne Phillips, ‘An attention to difference does not entail an essentialist understanding of identity; nor does it demand any wholesale rejection of the politics of competing ideas’ (Phillips 1994b, p. 79). Here, I argue that there is a midway between the politics of ideas and the politics of presence. In order to adequately represent minorities and those marginalised by wider society, I think it is essential to address the politics of presence. In having descriptive representation, i.e. somebody who mirrors your lived experience, voters are more likely to get the kind of representation they want. That being said, the representative should not be constrained to only represent their community. Next, I discuss the utility of the politics of presence to the representation of women specifically.
2.3 The Politics of Presence/ Descriptive Representation and
Women’s Interests
Descriptive representation has been recognised as the appropriate vehicle for minority representation according to feminist theorists. Indeed, the likes of Anne Phillips, Pippa Norris and Joni Lovenduski, all explore the use of descriptive representation with the goal of gender parity in political representation. Here, I discuss the arguments of such feminist scholars and provide an explanation for why descriptive representation is important for women. It is important to note, I position myself within this body of literature and for this paper focus upon descriptive representation as a vehicle for gender parity in political representation. Through various articles, I now put forth a normative argument as to why women should be represented and indeed, how descriptive representation is effective in ensuring women’s place in political office. Firstly, I discuss the work of Anne Phillips to address why there should be gender parity in political office. Next, I consult the body of literature that utilises descriptive representation and demonstrate its effects in a working scenario.
In her article Democracy and Representation Or, why should it matter who our
representatives are?, Phillips examines the issues surrounding descriptive
representation for women and provides three arguments as to why women should have more representation. The first is the theoretical argument of justice and how equal representation is simply a case of fairness. She states that the argument for gender parity based on the fact that men currently dominate political office is too weak of an argument. Instead, she argues that the case of justice to gain gender parity should instead be framed as political participation. Here, Phillips argues that participation is a component of the concept of representation generally. Indeed, she considers,
‘the under-representation of women in elected assemblies as analogous to their under-representation in the membership of political parties or the attendance at political meetings, and this treats the equal right to be an elected representative as part of an equal right to political participation’ (Phillips 1994a, pp. 69-70).
This is a more robust argument as she states that ‘equality in participation is one of the criteria by which democracies are judged’ (Phillips 1994a, p. 70). Indeed, later in this paper, I analyse the case study of Lebanon and discuss the relationship between political participation and women actively standing to be representatives in the country. For now, I discuss issues surrounding women’s representation more generally.
The second argument Phillips puts forth for gender parity in representation is the argument of women’s interests. Arguing for the interests of women to be represented, she confronts the critiques of her argument. The main critique is that women do not have a homogenous set of ideals, beliefs and values, therefore making it difficult for women to be represented solely through descriptive representation when there are no homogenous interests to judge the standard of representation by (Phillips 1994a). In fact, Phillips uses the opposite argumentation; she argues that if women’s interests were cohesive and homogenous, it would then be easier to judge if they are being represented sufficiently. As interests are varied and partially formed, we should have more women representatives who can give perspective to men who do not have the same lived experiences as women (Mansbridge 1999). As members of the in-group, it would be easier for women to find interests to represent, even if they are varied (Phillips 1994a, p. 72).
Indeed, Lovenduski and Norris (2003) also argue that it is difficult to use the argumentation that women need more direct (and hence descriptive) representation, as men cannot and are not adequately addressing their political interests. However, the take-away from Phillips’ article is that women’s interests do not need to be entirely homogenous in order to demand better representation. In fact, Phillips, as well as Lovenduski and Norris discuss how women’s interests do differ compared to men as women have ‘shared interests’ in areas such as ‘abortion, childcare or equal opportunities in education and the labour force’ (Lovenduski and Norris 2003, p. 87; Phillips 1994a).
This brings us to the next critique of using women’s interests as a case for descriptive representation for gender parity, as how can it be definitively proven that men cannot already substantively represent women. The likes of Hanna Pitkin would argue that substantive representation itself should be enough as a key function of any democracy is to adequately represent the population. As mentioned earlier, many factors need to be taken into consideration when discussing the effectiveness of substantive representation, such as the positions of power and privilege that representatives may have. As a result of such dynamics, it cannot be easy for said representatives to put themselves in the position of those marginalised by society, i.e. men representing the interests of women. Conversely, if descriptive representation were to be given then how could it be ensured that women would adequately represent women? Phillips (1994a, p. 73) positions this critique within the party political system as even when creating manifestos, ‘the subsequent weighing of interpretation and priorities, it matters immensely who the representatives are’. Consequently, she argues that issues can crop up immediately and not everything
can be planned through a party manifesto, hence why descriptive representation is important (Phillips 1994a, p. 73). As representatives create policy in real-time they may not have time to consult, or do not think to consult, other groups in society than their own, i.e. often white and male in the United Kingdom’s case for example. Phillips supports this notion as she goes on to say,
‘Political experience tells us that all male or mostly male assemblies will be poor judges of women’s interests and priorities and concerns, and that trying to shore up this judgement by pre-agreed programmes has only limited effect’ (Phillips 1994a, p. 73).
It is plain to see how descriptive representation would benefit representation in that it adds a voice that may not have otherwise been heard during deliberation and the drafting of policy.
Joni Lovenduski and Pippa Norris (2003) set about studying whether descriptive representation is effective or not. They have empirically studied the politics of presence using the cohort of women boosted in politics by the Labour Party in the UK through their all-women candidate lists in 1997. They measured the attitudes and values of 1,000 men and women politicians through the British Representation Study (Lovenduski and Norris 2003). They found ‘no significant differences’ between men and women’s attitudes on the ‘free market Economy, Europe and moral traditionalism’ (Lovenduski and Norris 2003, p. 84). However, when they measured ‘attitudes and values directly relating to women’s interests’, they found ‘significant difference’ between genders (Lovenduski and Norris 2003, p. 95). Most strikingly, there were significant differences between men and women in support of ‘pro-liberal gender equality’, the same was said for affirmative action where even Conservative
women were expressing more support for affirmative action than men (Lovenduski and Norris 2003, p. 95). This is surprising given that Conservatives are traditionally against such policies (Lovenduski and Norris 2003, p. 95). Therefore, this study does prove that there are differences in attitudes and potentially policy when consulting the differences between men and women. From Norris and Lovenduski’s study, I think it is clear to see that there is more than a normative claim to gender parity amongst representatives, and that descriptive representation presents a legitimate form of representation that could be beneficial to marginalised groups.
The exemption of women and ethnic minority voices may not have been excluded with intent. I further support Mansbridge as she argues it is important to ensure these viewpoints are heard to improve the quality of democracy and representation such groups receive (Mansbridge 1999). However, the notion that descriptive representation improves democracy is controversial in the field of political theory. Particularly radical democratic theorists would take issue with the notion that by facilitating a platform for marginalised groups to be heard is, in itself, undemocratic (Phillips 1994a). The critique of Pitkin crops up again here, that by expecting descriptive representatives to believe the exact things you believe, you reduce the representative to becoming a messenger rather than trusting them to represent you accordingly. Whilst I have already addressed the tensions between substantive and descriptive representation, I explicitly address this critique for the purpose of my research on women’s representation. In this thesis, I do not expect nor assume women to purely represent women, but argue that descriptive representation is necessary for gender parity in political representation. Phillips (1994a, p. 74) herself explains that ‘we can only believe that the sex of the representatives matter if we
think it will change what the representatives do’. Wängerud (2000) argues that women’s presence has changed the composition of the Swedish Riksdag. Lovenduski and Norris (2003, p. 88) outline the process in which women change policy preferences as a ‘process of politicisation’ by which;
‘(1) women are recognised as a social category, that is the gender neutrality of politics is contested; (2) the inequalities of power between the sexes are acknowledged; and, (3) policies to increase the autonomy of women are made. Hence, having women in parliament confronts legislators to the discrimination women face as women legislators will avow to ways in which women are effected. Indeed, I echo the sentiments of Jane Mansbridge in saying that the deliberation made in parliaments would be greatly increased by the presence of more women and minorities.
Phillips’ final argument for gender parity in political representation is a democracy based argument working ‘towards a revitalised democracy’ (Phillips 1994a). I support this argumentation as, gender equality is what is just and would increase democracy by affording women better participation within the political system. Phillips (1994a, pp. 74-75) states that descriptive representation would lead to improved democracy, as feminist argumentation claims that ‘changing the composition of existing elected assemblies is only part of a wider project of increasing and enhancing democracy’.
In the literature review I have lain the foundations for why political representation is important to a democratic society. I have chosen to focus explicitly on descriptive representation in this paper, as I believe there is more than just a normative claim for women’s representation. In line with Phillips, I argue that representation of women is
essential as insufficient representation becomes an issue of participation when women are excluded from politics. Women’s interests must be represented sufficiently and as shown by Lovenduski and Norris (2003) men and women representatives do not have congruent interests, hence a difference in interests should be expressed by women. I further support descriptive representation, as critiques such as women’s interests are not fully formed are insufficient. I agree with Mansbridge when she discusses the importance of descriptive representation from the group in ‘contexts of uncrystalized interests’ (Mansbridge 1999). Given that I am focusing on descriptive representation, the rest of this paper details how women must navigate obstacles when trying to represent. I further present potential remedies to women candidates to encourage them to represent descriptively.
I now focus on the case study in hand; Lebanon. Lebanon has a unique political context and here it is vitally important to discuss the conditions that marginalises more than half of its voting population – women. In my research and analysis in the subsequent chapter, I showcase the barriers that Lebanese women must contend with as they try to provide representation to women in Lebanon. I demonstrate how substantive representation of current politicians is inadequate and believe descriptive representation is necessary for a better quality of political representation of the whole population in Lebanon. This paper lays the groundwork for societal actors to use for the case of descriptive representation for women in order to improve the quality of democracy and representation all people receive. I now discuss the methodology choices I have made, and justify the case selection of Lebanon.
3 Methodology
3.1 Case Selection
As mentioned in the introduction to this paper, Lebanon is an interesting case to study given its unique political context. The reason for selecting Lebanon as a case study is twofold; (1) Lebanon is considered one of MENAs most democratic countries, but has one of the lowest records for gender parity among representatives in the world, (2) there is a distinct lack of literature on women’s position in Lebanese society as representatives. Hence, there are a number of reasons that give this case both academic and societal relevance.
In line with Anne Phillips’ democratic argument for gender parity in legislatures, I believe that this case is worth discussing. Lebanon classes itself as a democracy, yet it has slipped down the rankings of the Democracy Index, in part due to the lack of women in political office (The Economist Intelligence Unit 2018). Such findings provide evidence that Phillips’ theoretical case for gender parity on the basis of democratic legitimacy is applicable in real-life contexts. Additionally, I believe this case study is particularly significant for democratic and representation theorists, as Lebanon is in conflict with the notion that equality in participation is essential for democracy. Indeed, more than half of the country’s registered voters are women (United Nations Development Programme 2018). Only 6 women currently stand in parliament out of a potential 128 seats. The country has a severe issue with representation, but also participation. Women not only lack the opportunity to be represented but also stand as the representatives themselves. Representation is a core function of democracy, so it is unsurprising that the lack of women in the
Lebanese parliament is considered undemocratic. Indeed, I ask my main research question;
What barriers prevent women from reaching elected office in Lebanon and how can women’s entrance into parliament be better facilitated?
From this question, I direct my research towards understanding how descriptive representation is being prevented in the country. The following sub-questions were formulated in order to confront this main research question. Having consulted the literature surrounding women’s representation in Lebanon, I found that whilst there is research relating to how women are inadequately represented, there is little to no literature on women as political representatives themselves. There is a body of literature focusing on women’s position in Lebanese society from the likes of Suad Joseph, Lina Khatib, Zeina Zaatari and Rosita Di Peri. I drew upon their works to formulate the first sub-question;
(1) How do formal obstacles affect women’s ability to reach elected office?
Khatib (2008) discusses how gender, citizenship and political participation intersect in Lebanon. Indeed, she addresses ways in which women’s citizenship and agency are distinctly different from men (Khatib 2008). She establishes the ways in which women are affected by personal status laws as such laws reassert patriarchal notions of citizenship. In the same vein as Lovenduski and Norris (2003), she argues that women’s rights are seen as inherently political, and therefore contested (Khatib 2008). She explores this notion further from the lens of citizenship and argues that
women’s rights are contested because they are deemed political (Lovenduski and Norris 2003; Khatib 2008). In Lebanon, there are boundaries between public and private issues (Khatib 2008). Notions of citizenship are formal institutional obstacles. Khatib argues that this is significant since officials have demarcated citizenship as apolitical, and not to be challenged (Khatib 2008, p. 443). Di Peri’s (2018) work concurs with Khatib’s, as she also outlines the formal obstacles to women on a societal level. Indeed, Di Peri looks at institutions such as the political system of consociational power-sharing, sectarianism, and the legal framework of Lebanon to understand how women are affected on an institutional level (Di Peri 2018).
Di Peri, Khatib and Joseph’s works lay out the ways in which women are affected as a group. Their works inspired me to research how the legal framework, political system and sectarianism affect not only women, but women as representatives specifically.
Whilst Khatib focused more on institutional perspectives of gender, she also spoke of how women’s participation in society is demarcated as apolitical, leading to an assumption that women should not be involved in politics (Khatib 2008). She argues that women may not see their own work as political despite a lot of women being involved in the social sector and heavily engaged with charity work (Khatib 2008, p. 442). Indeed, there is a body of literature where women situate their political acts as inherently apolitical. Deeb (2005) also found in her work ‘Doing Good, Like Sayyida
Zaynab”: Lebanese Shi‘i Women’s Participation in the Public Sphere’, that Shi’a
women were acting politically through their works of charity, and operated within the patriarchal system without being seen as political. Likewise, Zaatari (2006) argues,
following her two-year ethnographic research in South Lebanon, that women were inherently political although making their political acts under the guise of motherhood, and a hope for a better future. This allowed the Southern women to provide social services freely, without interference from men (Zaatari 2006). Through these works, I wanted to explore what other kind of conditions inspired women’s political participation, hence the formulation of my second sub-question;
(2) How do informal obstacles encourage and, or, discourage women’s political participation?
Given the literature on representation, I also wanted to focus on potential remedies. I focused on ways in which descriptive representation could be facilitated via quotas or otherwise. There were many debates in Lebanon from NGOs and other civil society actors as to how quotas would work with a firm gender divide between answers, not dissimilar from Joni Lovenduski and Pippa Norris’ findings from the 1997 cohort of representatives in the UK’s legislature (Lovenduski and Norris 2003). Hence, the final sub-question focuses on a more prescriptive argument;
(3) How can women’s political ambitions be encouraged and facilitated in the future?
There seems to have been a cultural shift in attitudes surrounding women in politics since the last general election in 2009, as more and more women are interested in becoming representatives. 12 women had registered their candidacy in 2009 compared to 112 women in 2018. The surge in women candidates in Lebanon is in
dire need of researching due to the societal implications studies could take. Hence, when only 6 women were eventually elected to parliament, there was a motive to detail the obstacles women face in becoming candidates and present conditions for further descriptive representation. This work contributes to bridging the gap in literature on Lebanese women as representatives and providing the overwhelmingly Western debates in representation with a non-Western case study. I now detail the unique political context of the country, in order to provide more nuanced arguments in the results chapter of this paper.
3.2 Context of the Lebanese Case
To answer my research question, I must first provide context of the case itself. Lebanon has a very complex history and political system to go with it. The country has a long history of civil war due to sectarian tension, mainly between the three largest sects; Christian Maronites, Sunni Muslims and Shi’a Muslims. Such tensions have been exacerbated by foreign influences backing different sects, including a pro/anti-Syrian division regarding Syria’s involvement within Lebanon.1 I explain the context of the Lebanese case through three main facets; sectarianism, the extended kinship system and the system of political familism.
3.2.1 Sectarianism
1
Saudi Arabia has close ties to the Sunni Muslim sect and political parties such as the Future Movement. Shi’a party Hezbollah, has close ideological and religious ties to Syria and in turn the Assad regime. Tensions have risen between sects in Lebanon on a pro/anti-Syrian division, splintering political parties into two alliances. The March 8th Alliance is Pro-Syrian, consisting of, but not limited to, Hezbollah, Amal, Lebanese Democratic Party and Free Patriotic Movement. Whilst the anti-Syrian alliance, March 14th Alliance consists of the pro-Saudi party the Future Movement, Lebanese Forces, Kataeb, Progressive Socialists, amongst other small parties.
The Ta’if Agreement (1989) signalled the end of the civil war in Lebanon which lasted from 1975 to 1990, installing confessionalism in the political system to prevent further sectarian violence between Christians and Muslims. The agreement allocated a fixed quota of seats for each religious sect, which has not changed since its inception. The three main sects in Lebanon have a significant number of seats; Christian Maronites have 14 seats, Sunni Muslims have 27, and Shi’a Muslims also have 27 seats (The Lebanese Center for Policy Studies 2018). The mixture of religion and politics in this system disproportionately affects woman as sectarian practices tend to uphold patriarchal power structures. I shall elaborate further on this in the results section concerning formal obstacles to women candidates in Lebanon.
Lebanese scholar Suad Joseph (2000) argues that sectarianism itself is a civic myth, as there was no ‘natural’ division of communities based on religion in Lebanon. She details how ‘Governance has not been based on “natural” sectarian communities so much as succeeding states have constructed political sects to facilitate governance’ (Joseph 2000, p. 112).2 These divisions are still the basis of the political system today. Sectarianism remains a key obstacle to women’s equality, and in turn political participation, as personal status laws within each sect favour men in cases of divorce, child alimony, inheritance and divorce.
2 The French claimed the Christian Maronites, British claimed the Druze, Ottomans claimed the Sunni
community and the Russians claimed the Greek Orthodox community to section Lebanon into political sects for their colonial gain (Joseph 2000, p. 112).
3.2.2 Extended Kinship System
Joseph (2000) has argued that the civic myth of kinship is central to understanding the status of women in Lebanon. In defining the extended kinship system, Joseph (2000, p. 109) stated,
‘the state has been seen as weak, unreliable, and unable to afford citizens protection from social, economic, and even political insecurities. The state has been decentred from critical social action. To the degree that the state has been seen as having agency, it is often negative. The state has existed for the extraction of resources’. Hence, it is kin groups that offer citizenship to people through their role as the predominant organiser of society (Joseph 2000, p. 109). This role should be carried out by the state but, as Joseph argues, people are weary of the Lebanese state as a vehicle for corruption and personal interest (Joseph 2000, p. 109). As kin groups are the fundamental social organisers, kinship myths have been enshrined in law in order to maintain the formation of the state (Joseph 2000, p. 109). Later, I shall further discuss Joseph’s ‘kin contract theory’ and how kinship affects women’s political participation as candidates.
3.2.3 Political Familism
Joseph (2011) believes that this extended kinship system has morphed into the system of political familism over time. Today, Lebanon’s political system is ruled by elite political families:
‘Its political system has repeatedly collapsed, the state never fully consolidated, the notion of a nation never quite took shape, and the social organization has continually faced challenges - all of which are linked with dramatic regional and global events.
Under the surface of these political earthquakes, Lebanon may appear to sustain a political culture that resembles patrimonialism’ (Joseph 2011, p. 151).
Political familism grounds patrimonialism, i.e. the dominance of one male leader in the community (Joseph 2011). Each political family has one distinct male leader, for example the Future Movement is led by Saad Hariri, Samy Gemayel leads the Kataeb Party, Samir Geagea leads the Lebanese Forces among many other parties with male leaders, proving the primacy of male leaders in Lebanon. Joseph further explained how political familism became the dominant social organiser after Lebanon’s years of instability,
‘As instability followed instability, as the state was perceived to be dangerously incapacitated, Lebanese turned not just to militias or zu’ama' for protection and resources; they turned, more critically, to their families. The state, political leaders, and militias also turned to families (political familism) to mobilize and organize the population.’ (Joseph 2011, p. 154).3
Indeed, families became the dominant organiser of society and politics through the extended kinship system as ‘Familism has been the rule of state, used as commonly by state leaders as it is by citizens’ (Joseph 2011, p. 155). Ever since political familism was enacted, the political system has remained the same. The extension of kinship within this political familism is a key barrier to women’s political participation as politicians.
These three systems of sectarianism, the extended kinship system, and the system of political familism make up the apparatus in Lebanon that sustains the power of men over women. In the following chapters of analysis, I detail how these systems
have provided significant formal obstacles to women candidates and in turn influenced informal obstacles that women have faced as well.
3.3 Research Design
3.3.1 Data Collection
I gathered qualitative data through the use of semi-structed interviews. This seemed an appropriate data collection method to use for this research, as I wanted to garner interview material from people who had lived experience of working towards women’s representation, whether that be women themselves who stood for election, or practitioners within NGOs. I did so as I wanted to test the authenticity of current research on women’s representation within Lebanon, and use these interviews as a proof of concept. Interviews were semi-structured so that I could hear detailed, qualitative responses from respondents, and use this paper as a form of testimony for women candidates. This research paper is a platform for the lived experiences of women candidates, and highlights the issues they have been through to attempt to become representatives within Lebanon.
My sample of respondents was self-selected as I found a list of all the candidates from the United Nations Development Programme’s brochure on election results in Lebanon, and contacted women from district lists (United Nations Development Programme 2018). I initially consulted the directory page of the Women in Front, a Lebanese non-governmental organisation, and I found further details of women candidates. In total, I approached approximately 25 candidates and workers from NGOs and contacted them for interview. I gained access to all of the women
candidates I interviewed via social media platforms Facebook or LinkedIn. Likewise, I contacted one of the NGO practitioners on their LinkedIn profile as they were connected to the NGO publicly. As for the other I got in contact with him directly via email through a referral from their boss. Having contacted 25 individuals, 10 contacted me back. 2 women candidates refused to take part due to time constraints, leaving 8 individuals committed to my research. During my research, two of the eight women dropped out, leaving an attrition rate of 25%. With four women candidates and two non-governmental practitioners eventually being interviewed, 32% of the initial sample I contacted were interviewed. Whilst this is a small sample of individuals, I am not attesting that the views presented in this paper are wholly representative of women candidates or non-governmental practitioners in Lebanon. As mentioned previously, this paper is predominantly documenting the experiences and obstacles these women candidates have faced. Indeed, there are generalisations to be made; however, I do not claim that this small sample is representative of the whole population. Nevertheless, my findings do invite further research into the case.
I interviewed women candidates; Eliane Azzi, Carole Babikian Kokoni, Gina Chammas and Kholoud Wattar Kassem. I also interviewed Ghenwa Canzoni Jurdi, who is the Projects Manager at Women in Front, and Marcel van der Heijden, who is the Programme Manager of Women Empowered for Leadership at Hivos. I chose not to anonymise respondents as all agreed to recorded interviews, consented to my analysis, and use of quotations from said interview. Many women candidates were keen for their voices to be heard, as interviewing them provided them with the
opportunity to address women’s position within Lebanon as well as the experiences they have faced as women candidates.
I chose to interview women candidates and NGO practitioners specifically as I believed many women candidates had received significant support from civil society actors, and wanted to understand how NGOs were facilitating candidates (Al Jazeera 2018). I constructed interview questions based on the research questions outlined in the case selection, through theoretical assumptions I had garnered about women and political representation in Lebanon.4 Questions differed for NGO practitioners to women candidates as I asked them about the effectiveness of their programmes in order to gain insights on how women could be further encouraged into politics. In turn, I asked women candidates about their overall campaign; whether they had support, faced any obstacles, and what their motivations for submitting their candidacy were. Interviews were semi-structured, and questions were open-ended as interviews were used as testimonials from women candidates and NGO practitioners. I interviewed all respondents via video-conferencing platforms Skype and WhatsApp. I recorded the audio of the interviews for further analysis to ensure the highest quality of transcription. I chose to conduct interviews as I wished to see if the experiences I was told about would correlate with literature on women’s rights and agency in Lebanon.
3.3.2 Data Analysis
I then transcribed the audio recording of all interviews, and processed them through the qualitative data analytics programme ‘ATLAS.ti’. From there, I created coding groups that corresponded with the themes I had addressed throughout the interviews.5 Then I grouped the thirty individual codes I had created, and allocated them to one of three code groups; (1) Formal obstacles, (2) Informal Obstacles and, (3) Encouraging women. I then analysed each interview and allocated a code and description wherever relevant themes were addressed. I then analysed all of the codes together to decide what was significant in my findings. I chose to code the transcripts myself due to constraints on the paper, given that it is a Master’s thesis and not an article sent for publication. Additionally, I do recognise that coder-bias is an issue as the robustness of my data could have been improved by having an individual unfamiliar with my research code the transcripts.
The subsequent chapter of analysis are a mixture of theoretical work and primary data from my own empirical work. In the results chapter, I answer each sub-question. Firstly, I explain how the legal framework, political familism, kinship and sectarianism contribute to the obstacles to women candidates face. Secondly, I look to informal institutions such as the family and women’s role as the mother, perceptions of women and gender roles in the country, and show how such obstacles help to explain the gender gap in political ambition. Finally, beyond addressing these obstacles, I hope this research can contribute to future solutions for descriptive representation for women in Lebanon. Hence, the final chapter concludes the paper
5
by setting out conditions to help women navigate these obstacles, and make their way to parliament.
4 Results
4.1 Formal Obstacles to Women as Candidates
Formal obstacles to women’s political participation as candidates include the patriarchal system, the legal framework dictating their rights, and the political parties which deny them access. These formal obstacles inhibit the political participation of women and their ability to run as candidates in Lebanese elections. Thus the argument is twofold; firstly, the legal framework preserves the patriarchal structure within Lebanon’s society, and secondly, the patriarchal structure is also maintained in the legal and political system by the system of political familism.
4.1.1 Patriarchy and the Lebanese Legal Framework
Patriarchal power dynamics are entrenched in the Lebanese legal framework, exerting men’s power over women in the country. Within the Lebanese legal framework, I argue that; (1) citizenship laws, (2) personal status laws, and (3) electoral laws are minor obstacles to women reaching key decision-making positions, particularly that of political positions, as they seek to preserve patriarchal power structures. Addressing Lebanon’s legal framework, I first discuss citizenship laws, then personal status laws and electoral laws.
Citizenship Laws
Lebanese women cannot pass on citizenship to their children. Lebanese men can, and even have the ability to pass on citizenship to a foreign-born wife and their subsequent children. This is a clear imparity in the law, as the Lebanese woman cannot give citizenship to their foreign-born husband, leaving their children non-Lebanese citizens.6 Citizenship laws enshrine the practice of patrilineality, i.e. membership to a group is determined by male descent, into the Lebanese law. This practice is a result of the French mandate of 1926, which upheld traditions of patrilineality, still intact today (Joseph 2000, p. 127). The constitution itself directly refers to men but not to women. Hence, citizenship laws have created a ‘gender-differentiated view of female and male citizenship’ (Joseph 2000, p. 127). There are several implications for women as a result of such citizenship laws. One of the most important being that women ‘have been seen as less-individualised than have men’ (Joseph 2000, p. 127). Hence, the legal framework in Lebanon discriminates against women, ultimately affecting their status within their own country. Women who raise children with non-Lebanese nationals, or even women who have a non-Lebanese father, will face additional obstacles that Lebanese men do not have to contend with. Gina Chammas, a woman candidate who stood in the 2018 election, told me:
“Citizenship laws seriously offend women in Lebanon. A Lebanese man could marry a woman from any country on the planet, regardless of the level of education, the background, professionalism, integrity, or anything. Just because a male in Lebanon chose a woman from any country on the planet, within maximum one year she
6
This law is particularly problematic for women who have children with Syrian or Palestinian refugees who are unable to pass on citizenship to their children either, rendering their children stateless despite the fact they were born in Lebanon. Wattar Kassem highlighted such an implication to me, stating that “These children, they don’t even exist in papers. They are nothing. If anything happens to them, we don’t know what happens.” (Kholoud Wattar Kassem, 2019, pers.comm., 29 April).
becomes a Lebanese citizen. On the other hand, a Lebanese woman who decides to marry someone who is not Lebanese, who could be an incredible genius, who has children with the foreign genius; the foreign genius is not allowed to have Lebanese citizenship. Worse than that, her own children aren’t allowed to have that, which is telling that woman; if you want to live a normal life you should be leaving the country with your husband, so that your kids can live in another country... If they are going to live here, they live like foreigners. You always have to prepare their passports, you have to go get them their residency. Every six months you have to clear their name so that they can stay again... Once they hit eighteen, there is a big problem, because now they are considered adults. To keep them with her takes a God, if not the act of some politician helping her somehow.” (Gina Chammas 2019, pers.comm., 23 April).
Indeed, these policies and laws discourage women from marrying non-Lebanese nationals.7 Women who marry non-Lebanese men may be discouraged from political participation as their primary concern is securing their children or husband’s citizenship.8 Women have detailed the costly procedures they have to follow when trying to maintain residency for their children and husband. One woman told Human Rights Watch (2018) it ‘once took five months to renew her sons’ residency’, stating that ‘“Overall, the residency isn’t costly, but the effort is – it takes time, we suffer a lot.”’. Political participation may not be a priority for these women, especially as they are constantly fighting to keep their family in the same country as them. Hence, it is obvious that citizenship laws are a considerable barrier to some women’s political
7
Women who marry Syrians or Palestinians are in a particularly precarious position as their husbands cannot give their children nationality which in effect makes any potential children they have stateless. Stateless children cannot live a normal life or exercise human rights they should be afforded such as education, access to healthcare and even work when they are older.
8
Non-Lebanese citizens with Lebanese mothers have to apply for residency every 1 to 3 years, official policy states that the residency is free but in actuality it costs between 100 to 200 dollars to submit an application (Human Rights Watch 2018).
participation as this is something which Lebanese men do not experience. Still today, these citizenship laws uphold the historic practice of patrilineality.
Personal Status Laws
Personal status laws are not a part of a civil code in Lebanese law; instead, they are left to the discretion of each of the 18 recognised religious sects in Lebanon. This delegation is one of the ways sectarianism reinforces the extended kinship system, as the courts uphold the principle of patrilineality in their rulings at the expense of Lebanese women. Indeed, ‘despite the constitutional provision that sanction the equality of all Lebanese, women’s rights in Lebanon are subject to different (social, religious and political) constraints’ (Di Peri 2018, p. 247). Hence, inequality is evident between different groups of women in Lebanon, as well as between men and women since each sect delivers different rulings. Joseph (2000, p. 130) expresses this sentiment as: ‘Legal multiculturalism has meant that Lebanese citizens have not shared a common legal culture around issues crucial to women, children and civil rights’. For instance, Muslim women do not receive alimony, but Christian women do (Joseph 2000, p. 131). Moreover, Greek Orthodox and Muslim women can divorce, however this is not an option for Catholic women (Joseph 2000, p. 131). Gina Chammas, a woman candidate in the 2018 election, illustrated during our discussion how Christian courts, like other sectarian courts, favour men in issues of child custody:
“Children stay with their mom until they are 12… After she is finished with all that hard work and he can understand, speak, communicate, at this point we don’t need you anymore. You are gone and we give everything back to the dad. It is like you raise a
big plant and you water it, then somebody comes and takes it once it is flowering and it is beautiful.” (Gina Chammas 2019, pers.comm., 23 April).
Women candidates expressed to me that they would like to see a civil code for marriage being implemented, as a lot of Lebanese women are affected by personal status laws. However, my research indicates that personal status laws have not deterred women candidates themselves from seeking election. None of the candidates I spoke to signalled personal status laws as an obstacle to their campaign. Hence, personal status laws do not appear to be a significant barrier to women candidates’ potential election to political office. Whilst this effect is not substantial, it is still evident that personal status laws affect the general population of Lebanese women. It is important to mention that men do not have to contend with these issues at all in their daily lives, and in turn their political campaigns. Therefore, whilst the effects are muted, it does ultimately provide women with more obstacles to contend with in their political campaigns compared to men.
Electoral Law
Electoral laws provide a more direct obstacle to women’s political participation as candidates, compared to citizenship and personal status laws within the Lebanese legal framework. As I have argued, the principle of patrilineality is preserved through Lebanon’s legal framework and th,e principle is evident in electoral laws. Marcel van der Heijden, Project Manager of the Women Empowered for Leadership programme, emphasised as such when I interviewed him, stating that;
“A woman who wants to run for elections for the municipality council does that in the place where either her father is registered and used to live, or when she’s married
where her husband comes from. This means that women who want to be active in municipality elections often do that in a different place from where they lived. It is totally ridiculous and doesn’t make any sense and this is as if she is the property of the father or the husband. She is not really seen as a full-fledged citizen who can be elected in the place where she lives and where she can have a meaningful input in the things that are being decided on.” (Marcel van der Heijden 2019, pers.comm., 16 April).
This electoral law takes place within the extended kinship system which enforces kinship notions of patrilocality, meaning that women must remain close to the husband’s family. This electoral law clearly reinforces notions of kinship as it requires family members to stay in close physical proximity. Indeed, when a man and a woman marry, the woman’s voter registration is automatically transferred to the man’s electoral district (European Union Election Observation Mission 2018, pp. 10-11). Women candidates are stripped of a choice in deciding where to run. Hence, campaigning in a district where you do not live is a major obstacle that women must contend with, unlike men. The European Union’s Electoral Observation Mission in Lebanon argued that the ‘automatic transfer of their voter registration… denies women their individual choice’ (European Union Election Observation Mission 2018, p. 32). They recommend in their final report: ‘To reform the legal framework in order to give women, after they marry, the right to choose whether to keep their registration place or change it to their husband’s.’ (European Union Election Observation Mission 2018, p. 32). Therefore, it has been recognised that men have a distinct advantage in their electoral bid as their family, whether by blood or marriage, are all in the same district, enabling them to mobilise more easily as a result of the primacy of patrilocality in Lebanon.
The extended kinship system in Lebanese society can be seen through Lebanon’s legal framework. Citizenship laws have sought to keep patrilineality in place. Personal status laws have combined sectarianism and kinship patriarchal notions to install the primacy of men over women in family matters. Finally, kinship principles of patrilocality have dictated where women live and where women candidates must stand for election. Hence, this extended kinship system has proven to be a significant barrier to all women in Lebanese society. Asides from electoral laws, the legal framework itself has not significantly affected women candidates specifically. In fact, while personal status laws do discriminate against women generally, the effect of such laws is not as profound for women candidates. Hence, while they are a major obstacle to gender equality generally, I do not consider citizenship laws nor personal status laws significant barriers to women’s participation as candidates. Although, it is important to note that this does not mean the effect on women candidates should be underplayed. These laws still seek to uphold a patriarchal structure within Lebanon, meaning that male candidates are more likely to have a built-in advantage over women candidates. I now explain how the extended kinship system directly affects women candidates through embodiment of political familism.
4.1.2 The Lebanese Political System
The Lebanese political system is a complicated mixture of sectarianism and political familism. Political familism has established its dominance in the Lebanese political system through:
