Women in Jordanian Islamic Movements: A Broad View of the Religious Motivations Behind Patriotism, Politics and DutyNoor Meher Ahmad Academic Director: Dr. Raed Al-Tabini Project Advisor: Dr. Dua’ Fino University of Wisconsin-Madison International Studies, Middle East Studies Amman, Jordan Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for Jordan: Modernization ad Social Change, SIT Study Abroad, Fall 2011 [email protected]
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Abstract
With Islamic politics on the rise in the Middle East, religious political groups are growing in number and popularity. The women who participate actively, whether directly with Islamic political parties or independently, represent a unique religious and politically motivated population. In Jordan, widespread political apathy coupled with social taboos makes women doubly unlikely to have any sort of involvement in politics, Islamic or otherwise. The women who are politically active are, thus, an anomaly. This study attempts to take a broad look at women in Islamic politics in Jordan. The expected outcome of the study was to uncover a strong emotional link between religion and patriotism. The results were largely in keeping with my original predictions, but with an added narrative of feminine duties and roles added into the mix. These women’s passion for politics stemmed from their religion, which they believe implores them to actively support and aid their country, all while reconciling gender inequality in their home lives. ISP Topic Codes Gender Studies, 507 Political Science, 523 Religion, 403 Regional Studies: Middle East, 521 Acknowledgements First and foremost, I’d like to thank Dr. Dua’ Fino. Without her honest and frank guidance, or vast number of contacts, I would not have a completed study. Dr. Raed Al-Tabini was also instrumental in this regard. Both Dr. Dua’ and Dr. Raed provided essential feedback when I doubted the scope and focus of my study and my capability as a researcher. I’d also like to thank Jeremy Menchik, whose enthusiasm for political Islam gave me motivation to explore themes he presented in the classroom.
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The author hereby grants to the School for International Training permission to reproduce either electronically or in print format this document in whole or in part for library archival purposes only. Student Noor Meher Ahmad Signature (typing here acts as a digital signature): Noor Meher Ahmad Date: 2 December 2011
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Table of contents
Abstract………………………………………………………………………..2
Copyright release………………………………………………………….2
Introduction……………………………………………………………………….5
Literature Review…………………………………………………………………...9
Methodology………………………………………………………………………15
Findings………………………………………………………………………………20
Gender in Politics………………………………………………………...20
A woman at home and a woman at work……………………22
Entering Politics…………………………………………………………24
The Islamic vision………………………………………………………......30
Patriotism through an Islamic lens……………………………...32
Conclusion………………………………………………………………………….35
Limitations…………………………………………………………………………...36
Recommendations for further research……………………………......36
Bibliography……………………………………………………………………..…..36
Introduction
When images of the Arab Spring erupted onto American television screens, amidst
the anti-union busting protests bubbling in my own back yard in Madison, WI, my
campus was enthralled with the participation of the everyday man in protests that swept
the Arab world. Seeing the everyday man involved caught my attention, of course, but
with each sweeping view of Tahrir Square or glimpses of the streets of Tunisia, I noted
women standing shoulder to shoulder with men, standing united against corruption and
the status quo.
The women were not designated to dole out food or sweep after the men. And while
these women were, for the most part, veiled, they were by no means hidden in the
massive upheavals that determined their future. Contrary to the Western perception of a
veiled woman, these women were shouting anti-Mubarak slogans regardless of the fact
their heads were covered, a symbol perceived to be that of oppression in the West.
As I watched these moving images of women protesting and sleeping in Tahrir
Square, I was actively researching Islamic political movements in a Political Islam class I
was taking at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. Of the wide expanse of movements I
studied, I found a strong link between three of them: The AK Party of Turkey, Hamas in
Palestine and The Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. The literature I studied in the duration
of the course asserted that the lower and middle class made up the foundation of these
Islamic parties in each of the respective countries. However, the combination of the Arab
Spring and my interest in the class-based politics of Islamic groups linked the idea of an
upheaval “from below” and Islamic parties.
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The culmination of these interests was the awarding of the Nobel Peace Prize to
Yemen’s Tawakkil Karman. As a woman adherent to her faith, she defied every Western
notion of what a Muslim woman can do. Karman stated, during her tour of the United
States, that she is “of the people and for the people”(Tarman). What is evident, from the
palpable pride the Yemeni and Arab people have for Karman, is that she represents the
pulse of the revolutions.
The lecturers that came and presented their various topics to my classroom in
Amman, Jordan covered a wide range of issues Jordan has faced in the past and will face
in the future. While I appreciated the frank honesty of the speakers, whenever I
approached them about women in politics or women interested in politics, I was told
dismally that they were, for the most part, uninterested and uninvolved. Whenever I
mentioned Toujan al-Faisal, who is considred one of if not the most notable female
Jordanian politician outside of Jordan, she was brushed aside as irrelevant and
inflammatory.
So where are the women like Tawakkil Karman? Do they exist in Jordanian society or
was she an anomaly in the Arab world? The distinct lack of women involved in politics,
Islamic or other, felt unsettling and rather difficult for me to comprehend, given the
increasing rate of women enrolled in universities across the country, I imagined that
women would be more interested in their political fates than those that are uneducated.
What I found, from my casual encounters with Jordanian women of upper middle
class or upper class economic status, women were largely disinterested in politics. Those
of the middle and lower class I found to be much more active or at least watchful of
politics. The phenomenon fit in perfectly with the populist theory of Islamic politics,
which I will elaborate on in my literature review. With my research, I sought to discover
whether populism in Islamic politics applies to middle class women of Jordan.
The women I interviewed were from the middle class, a parameter that was
determined not by their salary but their personal view of which economic class. All of my
subjects were women, so as to make the study focused primarily on women and their
personal views of their political actions. Given the short period of time available to
conduct the study, this research is a basic overview of women involved in multiple forms
in Islamic politics. It seeks to examine how and why these women became interested and
involved in politics. All of the women are Jordanian citizens, and all but one are Muslim.
All are somehow involved in politics, whether it be directly through a party or
independently.
The theoretical framework for this study is based around the schemas created by Nira
Yuval-Davis in “Women, Citizenship and Difference,” which asserts the following:
a comparative study of citizenship should consider the issue of women’s citizenship
not only by contrast to that of men, but also in relation to women’s affiliation to
dominant or subordinate groups, their ethnicity, origin and urban and rural residence.
It should also take into consideration global and transnational positioning of these
citizenships (Yuval-Davis, 4).
Thus, the women interviewed are not compared solely to men in their political
participation, but asked about their political narratives, giving depth to their political
interest and history.
The Islamic movement, and the women in it, is especially pertinent in today’s volatile
political scene. The Arab Spring has brought about a political upheaval from below, and
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these women are part of the middle class that has been suppressed and is now finding a
voice. Tawakil Karman is not an exception to the rule; instead she is a taste of what is to
come. Islamic movements are the populist movements of the modern Arab world, and the
women in these movements are a vision of the Arab future.
Literature Review
The literature published on the subject of women in the Arab world is expansive,
but focused primarily on the women’s movement as a movement for women’s rights, as
opposed to an analysis of direct involvement in the government. The readings that I have
researched during the course of this study are separated into two main themes: traditional
Islamic values and their constraints on women, and demands of the modern world and
their constraints on Islamic values. The literature I studied linked the two together using
Islamic politics, thus supporting my claim that women of the middle class enter Islamic
politics because it fulfills both traditional values and their modern desire to be involved in
politics.
Asma Barlas, in her book “Believing Women in Islam,” builds the religious
foundation that many Islamic women use to unshackle themselves, so to speak, from the
arguments derived from the Qur’an, which could prevent them from entering politics.
Using words that the author claims are often misinterpreted, she re-examines suras from
the Qur’an to derive claims of equality, which she contrasts with similar interpretations
that claim the contrary. For instance, she describes the difference between the ontological
and biological descriptions of man and woman in the Qu’ran as such: “As the Qur’an
describes it, humans, though biologically different, are ontologically and ethically-
morally the same/similar inasmuch as both women and men originated in a single Self,
have been endowed with the same natures, and make up two halves of a single pair”
(Barlas, 133). Thus, the argument which Muslim scholars often revert to when
questioned about women’s political participation, which is that man and woman are
created differently therefore women are somehow incapable of making political
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decisions, is answered with an argument that asserts the biological differences but
focuses instead on ontological differences.
Barlas extends her reinterpretation of the Qu’ran into the political sphere using
her theory of Islamic vice-regency. She quotes Ayah 33:72: “Verily, we did offer the trust
[of reason and volition] to the heavens and the earth, and the mountains: but they refused
to bear it because they were afraid of it. Yet [humans] took it up” (Barlas, 107). She goes
on to build upon the interpretation of Merryl Wyn Davies, which derives trust to be
placed in the khilafah, who are all men and women, therefore entrusting vice-regency
equally amongst men and women.
The equality of men and women in Barlas’ reinterpretation, while meaningful in
that it frees the Qu’ran of the misogynistic light it is often delivered in, holds little
relevance in the reality of a male-dominated Islamic political scene. The fact of the
matter is, women in Islamic politics must navigate through a thick and interwoven
network of male-dominated power structures. These structures can be analyzed utilizing
theories in Nira Yavul-Davis’ article entitled “Women, Citizenship and Difference.” The
author argues that citizenship has to be understood using a multi-tiered analysis, which
involves examining intra- and supra-national loyalties. The article examines women, in
particular, and how their roles in society affect their relationship with state structures.
Although the article focuses primarily on lower-class American females, a section
addresses familial relations and their resulting change on citizenship in Arab countries:
Political, social and… even civil rights might depend on the familial position of
the particular citizen (Saudi Arabia or Jordan are probably good examples of such
a state but in more diluted forms this phenomenon is spread more widely,
especially when looking at ruling parties’ elites). Traditional social, and especially
familial relations continue to operate and often women have few or no formal
citizenship rights (Yuval-Davis, 15).
The schemas of familial and traditional obligations bind women to certain roles, which
are denoted using interpretations of the Qu’ran. Yuval-Davis’ schemas frame citizenship,
especially that of women in Arab countries, in a digestible form, thus explaining the
intricate web of traditions and family values.
While Yuval-Davis frames citizenship so that it may be analyzed vertically and
horizontally, her article does not display these schemas in actual scenarios. Here, Sally K.
Gallagher’s study entitled “Agency, Resources, and Identity: Lower-Income Women’s
Experiences in Damascus” fills the gap. The study examines, as the title suggests, lower-
income women in Damascus and how they manage economically and politically.
Gallagher exposes, through a series of interviews and observations, the obstacles these
women contend with given their economic position. Throughout her study, she references
various life decisions that these women face and places them in an economic context:
Trenchant and popular models of gender as managed and negotiated, or the notion
of bargaining with patriarchy in which women receive “protection and security in
exchange for submissiveness and propriety” (Kandivoti 1988, 280) draws on
language that suggests human action can best be described using economic
metaphors and rational choice (Gallagher, 231).
With this in mind, it can be said that for these women, decisions such as marriage have
economic value attached to them. Forbidden from participating in any sort of
moneymaking activity, even if allows for them to stay at home, forces women into taking
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on the role of a financial burden. As such, their only opportunity for agency is potentially
picking the home in which they will be a weight, financially.
How does this translate politically? Lisa Blaydes and Safinaz El Tarouty frame
Egyptian women’s voting habits in the same economic light Gallagher placed Damascus’
impoverished women. In “Women’s Electoral Participation in Egypt: The Implications of
Gender for Voter Recruitment and Mobilization,” Blaydes and El Tarouty shed light on
the vote selling phenomenon in lower-income parts of Cairo. The Muslim Brotherhood
makes use of women’s unique social standing, which allows them to make social calls in
the homes of other women to recruit voters (Blaydes and El Tarouty, 371). “According to
Makarim al-Diry, female activists with the Brotherhood use their existing social networks
to ask for votes for their candidates, emphasizing the honesty and integrity of the
Brotherhood members. They are able to talk to other women, convincing them of the
importance of political participation and the need to support Muslim Brotherhood
candidates who will help eliminate corruption in the state” (Blaydes and El Tarouty,
372). The Brotherhood also utilizes female activists during especially violent
demonstrations as a shield of sorts, protecting male activists because of the social taboo
of ever attacking a woman (Blaydes and El Tarouty, 372).
Thus far, the literature regarding the economic decision-making of Muslim women
has been limited to their actions, political or otherwise. However, an integral study,
which links economic conditions to personal opinions and viewpoints of Islamic
idealism, explains the mentality of lower-income and middle-income women of Muslim
countries. In “The Political Economy of Women’s Support for Fundamentalism in
Islam,” Lisa Blaydes and Drew A. Linzer conducted a sweeping survey of women in 18
Muslim countries regarding their views on various gender and value issues rooted in
Islam. The results gave insight into the political decision-making of women in Islamic
countries. For instance, the study quelled any notion of fundamentalists being
“stereotypical slum dwellers” and found their primary base to be “well-educated,
upwardly mobile young men” (Blaydes and Linzer, 578).
The study reinforced the idea of economics playing a role in decision-making, as
articulated by Gallagher. Blaydes and Lizner claim financial insecurity as “a key
determinant of the propensity to adopt fundamentalist beliefs and preference” (Blaydes
and Linzer, 580). They go one to state, “For women, fundamentalist views that perpetuate
patriarchy and that are associated with conservatism, religiosity, and piety are traits
valued in the marriage market and society writ at large” (Blaydes and Linzer, 592). They
cite examples of veiled women failing to adapt to the modern job market, and the stigma
associated with veiled women in increasingly modernizing Muslim countries. The
authors contend that women who adhere to more conservative interpretations of the
Qur’an choose to do so because of the material bias that displaying traditional
conservative values plays in the marriage market and in their social sphere.
Blaydes and Linzer place the mobile Islamic women in the state of mind I find
them in my research: “in a double-bind” (Blaydes and Linzer, 585). Their traditional
values, on one hand, prevent them from actively participating, whether economically or
politically, but the modernization of their countries demands them to somehow sidestep
these traditional values. Jordan is a prime example of a country sitting on the fence
between modernity and traditional values, and the state of its politically active Islamic
women is a prime example where these theories, regarding everything from religion,
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politics and economic agency, collide.
Methodology
The method by which I chose this subject was through a series of evaluations of
subjects within Jordan that interested me. I was intrigued by Islamic politics, partly
because of the rise of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt post-Arab Spring, but also
because I had studied Islamic political groups in the past and understood the basics of
their parties. Jordan is a special case in Islamic politics, however, because even though
the majority of the population supports Islamic political groups, a disproportionately
small number become involved directly with these groups, partly for fear of government
crackdown.
Women, then, are even more difficult to encourage in politics. Women’s issues in
politics appealed to me, during the course of the thematic seminars, because it seems that
often times the burden of the contradiction between modernity and Islam falls of
women’s shoulders. Societal, political and religious values are focused on the woman
and her importance in the family. As such, it is understandable that few women chose to
enter politics, Islamic or otherwise.
I knew, because of security reasons and the kind of connections many of my
colleagues have in Jordan, that it would be quite a struggle to find poorer women
interested in Islamic politics. My predictions came true, in this sense. Not only was it
extremely difficult to find women who were from the lower class, it was next to
impossible to find women who were directly involved in Islamic politics. This brought
me to the realization that little to no women from the lower class were involved in
Islamic politics at all, which is when I utilized all of my resources to focus my attention
on the bulk of women in Islamic political groups, who are from the middle class.
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I approached the process of determining the subjects I was interested in
interviewing by taking advantage of every contact I was given by my more than helpful
adviser, Dr. Dua’ Fino, who had a number of women from a wide array of political
interests in backgrounds. I eventually settled on interviewing women from a few distinct
categories of Islamic politics: Hizbut al-Wast or Moderation Party women, Islamic
Action Front women, and women who are politically independent. This allowed for my
study to survey women in Islamic politics under a broad stroke. The women from each
group by no means would represent all women from each party, but allowed for the study
to touch on differences between each party’s stances on Islamic politics, and highlight the
similarities between all of the women’s narratives.
Once I determined my targets, I arranged for appointments with the women at
locations of their convenience. The first interview I conducted was with a member of the
Islamic Action Front named Eide Hqanah. A resident of Irbid, she was in Amman
attending an IAF convention. The interview questions I prepared were intended on
focusing on her entry into Islamic politics and how she determined the IAF was a party
she would like to support. The interview itself was a bit strained, due almost entirely to
the setting of the interview. We sat down during a break between meetings in a hallway
entrance to the main ballroom. As such, it was very noisy and IAF members were
constantly passing by, drinking tea and talking all around us. Although Ms. Hqanah
spoke excellent English, hearing one another was quite difficult in this setting. On top of
this, we were interrupted several times by IAF passerby’s who wished to stop and say
hello to my interviewee. The nature of the environment led Ms. Hqanah to be very
distracted, and while her answers were direct, they often times sidestepped the question
or addressed a topic which she seemed more comfortable speaking about. She was also
pressed for time, as she was a member of the shura council of the IAF, which began its
meeting near the end of our interview.
My second interview fared much better, because of the copious amount of time I
had with my subject. Dr. Adab Al-Saud, an ex-Member of Parliament and Dean of
Student Affairs at the Islamic Science University (Jam’ea al-Uluum al-Islamia), hosted
me in her office after an hour-long meeting. Since I arrived in the midst of this
emergency meeting, I spent a good deal of time preparing and finalizing my the
direction of the interview. Dr. Al-Saud was again very articulate in English, but
sometimes took her time to find the correct words. This gave me opportunity to reflect on
her answers and build further questions in this regard. We were interrupted a number of
times by students and faculty members, but the interruptions were minimal and Dr. Al-
Saud was excellent in answering the questions and allowing for adequate elaboration on
each subject.
Kanaar Sweiss was helpful in this manner as well. Her excellent command of the
English language made the interview free of any miscommunications or need to utilize
simple vocabulary for the ease of the subject. Again, we were interrupted several times,
but with my note taking, I was able to direct her back to her train of thoughts quickly and
seamlessly.
The questions I prepared for the group interview I conducted with six women of
the Islamic Moderation Party, or Hizbut Al-Wast, were few in number. This was
purposefully done, because in group settings, the subjects tend to engage in conversations
with one another and build thoughts collectively as opposed to answering only to me one
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by one. Given that I had an excellent translator, the questions were completely
understood with little to no difficulty. The order of the questions was created to lead the
interviewees from a broad subject to more general topics, and the result was exactly as
intended. The conversation was fluid from question to question, and differences in beliefs
resulted in conversations between the subjects.
Before beginning any of my interviews, I explained to my subjects, along with the
consent form I produced before each interview, that they had the option to refuse any
questions, to remain anonymous or to decline participation in the study if they so desired.
Each of the subjects consented to the requirements on the form, and to be recorded for
accurate statements. I took notes while the recording of the interview was being recorded
so that I could reference any points they had made in the past, and also ensuring that I
had quotes in case of technological malfunctions.
The questions I asked all of my subjects were designed to answer various aspects
of interest in my study. Firstly, I wanted to determine exactly how each of them arrived at
her current political position. This allowed for the subject to create a narrative of their
political experiences, beginning with their initial interest in politics. The story-telling
aspect of this question allows for the subject to give a history and depth to their political
experience. Questions after this point stem from the direction the interviewee leads the
interview to, which is naturally what they would like to tell me as highlights of their
interest or activity in Islamic politics.
Frequently, the subjects who were official members of Islamic political parties
gave me answers to questions I was not asking. In these cases, it was clear that the
women had given speeches or prepared some sort of answers prior to the interview. In
these scenarios, I allowed for the women to thoroughly answer questions I did not ask,
but found one specific point of their answer to direct them back to topics of my interest.
This allowed for the interview to retain its fluid nature while continuing in extracting the
data I was interested in. The prepared speeches also gave me insight into what the
subjects anticipated I would ask, or issues that affect their role in the party enough that
they would prepare and answer.
The most difficult obstacle for me to overcome during the course of the study was
reassessing whom I could feasibly interview. I became very frustrated and disillusioned
when I was unable to come in contact with lower-class women in Islamic politics, the
women I had intended to study. However, when I came to the realization that very few
were directly involved in politics, I reassessed my scope and purpose of my study and
found new questions to answer from a middle-class perspective of Islamic politics. If I
had foreseen the difficulty in getting in contact with lower-class women, I would have
planned much further in advance, in retrospect. However, given the time constraints of
the study, it was pertinent that I change the scope of my topic, and given the results, it
was ultimately beneficial that I did.
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Findings
The women I interviewed were all, in some shape or form, linked to Islamic
politics, with the exception of one Christian woman. The Muslim women were involved
in various parties, except for one who was an independent ex-Parliamentarian. Each of
the subjects brought a religious narrative to their political experience, which will be
examined thematically in my findings section.
Gender in Politics
Of the women I interviewed, all touched in one way or another the topic of
equality. The Islamic women, especially those linked to parties, were very eager to
express their unique interpretation of equality as described by the Qu’ran. On one hand,
all were adamant that women were equal in the political sense of their participation.
Dr. Adab Al-Saud, a former Member of Parliament, Islamic political independent
and current Dean of Student Affairs at the Islamic Science University of Jordan, asserted,
“There is no difference in the house of representatives between women and men. We are
treated as representatives. [There is] no difference because of gender. Men didn’t treat us
as if [we] were women, they treat us because of what we do, not who [we are]” (Al-
Saud). She placed the legitimacy of women in politics with religion as such:
I explain that Islam does not refuse a woman’s share. There is a history with our
Prophet, and in the Rashidun, the women shared executive authority. There are
ministers and [proof] that our Prophet Muhammad also took the opinion of
women when he wanted to make big decisions and he agrees with the decision if a
woman suggests it. [The public] is convinced, and they accept these explanations,
and now this question is not found (Al-Saud).
The textual evidence of women in Islam was also referenced by Hyaat Al-Masimi,
current head of the Women’s Committee of the Islamic Action Front of Amman. “Al-
Mominoona wa al-Mominaat (Believers are men and women). Both men and women
should do m’aroof(good deeds). Allah asks me… He asks for myself as a woman… He
asks me to do khyer(good)”(Al-Masimi). The very same sentence from the Qur’an was
echoed by all women from Hizbut al-Wast. “Allah spoke to us as a group of believers,
not as a single believer” (Abu Ali, et al).
Part of the contextual evidence which Al-Masimi and Al-Saud reference is
intended to free the Qu’ran of misinterpretation. Their arguments placed any blame for
misinterpretation or practices that limit women on factors outside the Qu’ran, much like
Asma Barlas in her “Believing Women in Islam.” Al-Masimi acknowledged that women
had in fact been suppressed in Arab countries, but this was due to the rule of the
Mamluks:
In the Rashidun Khalifa, the women were there. But later on, in the Mamluk time,
the women didn’t go outside and had no [authority]. [The men] protected the
women because there were many wars. We are making women as they were
during the Prophet Muhammad’s life. We’re taking off the cover from Islamic
rule (Al-Masimi).
By placing the blame on outside rulers, Al-Masimi shifts the burden of misinterpretation
and waywardness from the Qu’ran on outside factors, shielding the holy texts from
implicit problems. Rawad Islimaan of Hizbut al-Wast went so far as to explicitly state
Islam the religion is convoluted with misconceptions, and cites her desire to separate the
two as one of her main reasons for entering politics in the first place (Abu Ali, et al).
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A Woman at Home and a Woman at Work
The assertion of equality in political aspects, though a common thread between
several interviews, was coupled by the repeated reference to the importance of a woman
in Islamic home life. All the women I interviewed, including the Christian subject,
brought up issues of a women’s responsibility to her home and how that affects notions
of equality in society.
Al-Masimi’s view of women’s equality was challenged when asked to reconcile it
with the Islamic Action Front’s unanimous rejection Jordan being a signatory of the
Committee on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women, or CEDAW. Al-
Masimi argued, “Everything that is good in CEDAW is in Islam,” but that “it is based on
equality between women and men, the complete equality. We believe that men are
different.” She clarified that being different does not make one less than the other, but in
the case of total equality, the burden will fall more on women. “I am pregnant, I have
children and a house, and at the same time I do everything at home. My husband comes
home from work and he does nothing, especially for the children.”
By designating the role of a woman intrinsically as that of a mother’s, Al-Masimi
makes all arguments of gender inequality in the scope of familial matters. Sousan Al-
Momani of Hizbut al-Wast, considers her role of a mother continuing on into the political
realm: “My role as an activist is as important as my role as a mother. Working as a
mother is the same as working for society. My job in politics has more momentum than
just raising my children” (Abu Ali, et al). Considering these women believe their roles as
mothers are inseparable from their role in politics, it is understandable that Al-Masimi
places the CEDAW convention not into the realm of the state and employment, as many
believe it to be understood, but instead into home life. In fact, she goes on to say that
equality in Islam is in almost all respects with the exception of home life: “We are equal
in origin, we are equal in working well, we are equal in many things. The differences in
Islam are in the family. They have different roles in the family. We have the same
political, social and economic rights.”
Al-Masimi’s disdain for CEDAW, it seems, stems from her interpretation of the
convention. While she acknowledges that part of it is in congruence with Islam- “The
right of life, the right of teaching, the right of choosing your husband...”- she states that
the convention promotes hostility between man and woman: “CEDAW makes man and
woman’s life as a conflict. [As if] if the women should have their rights, they should go
to court. Why? Allah said sakeen (peace), so that the life between man and women
should be peace” (Al-Masimi). As such, Al-Masimi’s understanding of the role of women
in politics and women at home, when examined side by side, holds home life to a
different standards than to all other aspects of a Muslim woman’s life.
She was not alone in doing so. Kanaar Sweiss, Assistant Principal of Al-Alandi
Latin School and lecturer with Al-Khayma, explained the average Jordanian woman’s
disinterest in politics by asserting she barely has time for politics outside of her home life.
Sweiss, as a Christian, provides a foil to the views of the Muslim women I studied during
the course of my research, but her views on home life were largely congruent with that of
the Muslim women:
If I’m going to speak about myself, as a housewife, I will go to work from 7am to
3pm. Then I go to the university because I have lectures there. At 6pm, I go back
24 Ahmad
home. I should feed [my kids], I should teach them, I should clean the house, and
then after that I will just go to sleep. Our day is tight, very tight (Sweiss).
The schedule of a Jordanian woman, then, is packed with responsibilities. While Al-
Masimi references that a man will do nothing when he returns home, Sweiss went further
to explain his attitude: “The mentality of the men is if you have a wife, she is the one who
will run the home… He is the one with the free time, it is not the woman” (Sweiss).
The women of Hizbut al-Wast, however, had an entirely separate concept of
motherhood. Reem Al-Nasser, member of the Hizbut al-Wast Amman greater
municipality board and mother of three, stated clearly and assuredly, “Jordanian women
have the power to multi-task, and when you’re successful, you’ll be a successful mother
and successful in politics” (Abu Ali, et. al). Rawad Islimaan Riyadaat, president of
Hizbut al-Wast’s central women’s committee echoed her colleagues thoughts: “A well
educated woman can balance between housework and political work, and she will be able
to manage her time” (Abu Ali, et al)
Regardless of whether they feel a woman can manage both her work and her
house, none of the subjects rejected that housework is work exclusively for women. It is
with the burden of running a home, then, that the Jordanian woman enters politics.
Whether explained through roles Muslims ascribe to, or through male mentality on
housework, these women distinguish themselves as unequal in this regard.
Entering Politics
The women’s movement in Jordan, when broken down into the experiences of
individual women, is a series of obstacles, both legal and societal, which a woman must
overcome before participating actively in politics. From the stories each of these subjects,
the path to becoming directly involved in politics involved first awakening a political
conscience, which is societal anomaly for a woman, to say the least. All of my
interviewees addressed Jordanians’ general lack of interest in politics, but stressed that
women are especially apathetic to the political ongoing in their own country.
Of the women directly involved with a party or as Members of Parliament, all
began their journey in politics through previous organizations. Al-Masimi and Al-Saud
were both active in university organizations, and Hqaneh was a social activist for many
years before formally becoming a member of the IAF. Al-Saud, when asked how women
could be encouraged to enter politics, stressed the importance of university activities: “At
first, to be involved with activities in the university and in the society, with the NGO’s or
with the committees and so on, and by discussing with [women] about the women who
have success stories, then to encourage them to challenge the situation in the frame of our
society and our religion” (Al-Saud).
Al-Masimi, who began to be involved in Islamic politics from a relatively early
age of 23, felt that she was the youngest from her group of politically active peers at her
university, partly because younger women rarely find interest in politics. “I had many
friends who were older than me. I started to work with people different from me. They
had opposite opinions. I think this was the most important part of my life” (Al-Masimi).
She attributes her age difference and experiences with people different other than her as
the reason she is able to compromise in politics today, a trait she finds lacking in many.
Continuing with her thoughts on political apathy, she mentioned the environment in
which Jordanians find themselves as a main proponent of the widespread problem:” You
know people in Arabic countries, and Jordan is one of these countries, don’t believe in
26 Ahmad
political life and they don’t want to work in politics, because of the many factors that are
around them. Working in politics is a problem.” For women, this political impassivity is
doubly potent, as they feel “no, it is not your place. Leave it for men, they can do it” (Al-
Masimi). Several women from Hizbut al-Wast mirrored Al-Masimi’s sentiments, but
their views brought about a heated discussion about who is to blame for the lack of
female involvement in politics. Half of the group insisted that the female quota in the
parliament stifles women’s participation in politics, while the other half blamed women
for not having the initiative to break into politics on their own. “The government is
pushing for women to get involved, yet they are resistant,” said Al-Momani, while her
colleague, Asma Al-Rowaneh, vehemently opposed. “It is society that is reigning them
in. I don’t believe that Jordanian women aren’t interested in politics. Jordanian women
understand politics, but don’t practice it because of the customs and habits of Jordanian
society” (Abu Ali, et. al). For Al-Momani, who began involvement with political
organizations at the age of 18, the duty to enter politics was fueled by her saying, “Do not
curse the darkness, but light the light” (Abu Ali, et. al).
As a member of the shura council, and one of the original 311 founding members
of the IAF in Jordan, Al-Masimi has come far from her first foray into politics. She
overcame societal taboos for women in politics partially, she says, to her father’s
willingness in letting her. “My father was afraid for me. He said this will bring problems
for you, but he likes me a lot. I was living with him because my mother was dead, and he
let me do anything I wanted to do” (Al-Masimi). Convincing others of their political
legitimacy is a major source of power for these women. As it is seen as inappropriate or
at the very least out of the ordinary, by overcoming the societal obstacles, they have
already labeled themselves as outliers within their community.
Conversely, even after overcoming the perceptions of women’s role in politics
within the Muslim community, these women find themselves fighting another battle: the
perceptions of secular politicians. Al-Masimi said her time in the parliament, from 2003
to 2007, was the most important interval for her to “work, really work, in political life
and for people to change their mind from what [they thought] an Islamic woman can do
in politics” (Al-Masimi). She went on to say that the misconceptions stemmed from a
belief that Islamic women “can’t do anything, that if they cover their hair they also cover
their mind. In the 4 years in parliament, I tried to change this idea… I speak English, so
that when I leave Jordan they can see that an Islamic woman can talk, she has opinions.”
The path to politics for these women involves obstacles from all ends, and as trailblazers,
they were the first to swat away the issues that women perhaps will not face in the future.
Al-Saud, as a former Member of Parliament, was one of the first to pave the way
for women in formal governmental positions. Her stance as an independent made her
campaign even more out of the ordinary. “I spoke directly to the people, door by door. I
knocked on the doors and enter, despite if they are lower class, upper or middle. We
looked at the district as a whole that I will talk to” (Al-Saud). Her grassroots campaign
was built upon social meetings, which Blaydes and El Tarouty mention in their article as
one of the many advantages of women in Islamic politics (Blaydes and El Tarouty, 373).
But despite her unique status as a woman her decision to even run for election
was openly refused:
28 Ahmad
The first time I said I want to run for election, they are surprised and deny that. I
convinced them [that] the law of the election allowed for the quota for the
woman. Why not, if I can take a chance, an opportunity? In the second election, it
looks like normal, so the society accepts that women can be decision makers at
the highest level… But I think I opened the road for more women. They could
come without any obstacles because I went first (Al-Saud).
Al-Saud’s bold foray into politics, thus, normalized women in elections. As part of the
first wave of women in Islamic politics to rise to positions of power, such as
parliamentary positions, Al-Saud’s experiences directly affect the next wave of women to
follow behind them. Al-Masimi commented on the differences between the two
generations:
I think the environment around us has changed, and the women themselves have
changed… I think now, in 2011, the women try to change and come to the IAF
and attend activities and become members… We have increased the number and
type of women. In the first time, most of the women in the party are sisters and
wives of the men. But now, no, we have women decide to become members of the
IAF even if her brother and husband our not members (Al-Masimi).
Separating themselves from their wali’s, or keepers, perhaps removes the mental block
that my interviewees reference Jordanian women experiencing.
Conversely, while these women were bold enough to enter politics when it was
socially taboo, confronting these taboos legally or abruptly is largely looked down upon.
Hqaneh, while adamant about applying the Islamic vision and confronting the
government as such, shifts her views completely when discussing women’s official rights
in politics:
We have problems with the laws, we have problems with the social taboos. But
slowly and gradually, we are trying to curb these problems and to remove them
from our way. And I think Jordanian women succeeded to a large extent. We took
it gradually and we did not confront the taboos and, let’s say, the social
establishment. We dealt with it gradually and we kept moving, but surely without
confrontation. Had we confronted from the very beginning, maybe we not
succeeded. We succeeded because of this gradual basis (Hqaneh).
Her gradual approach to women’s rights is hardly in congruence with her more motivated
manner of addressing Islamic politics. As part of the IAF stance, she states, “We are
fighting against corruption, we have so many issues to tackle using Islamic politics.”
Such aggressive language is far from the “step by step” process she condones in terms of
women’s rights. “If we attack the system, we will break bridges,” Hqaneh said, in
response to what a more confrontational women’s rights movement would look like
(Hqaneh). Al-Masimi’s view on CEDAW convention laws, which were referenced
previously in my findings, echoes the same slow-paced development and rights outside of
the court (Al-Masimi). Perhaps this can be explained by the aforementioned perceptions
of women’s roles within Islamic homes, but each of my subjects reconciled their
aggressive tactics of Islamic politics with their passive views of the women’s movement
without acknowledging any disconnect.
30 Ahmad
The Islamic Vision
While these women overcame major obstacles to enter politics, their views are
largely in consensus with the official views of their respective parties and Islamic politics
at large. Eide Hqanah and Dr. Hyaat Al-Masimi of the IAF answered well-prepared
answers of the vision of their party. Hqaneh spoke at length about the importance of
Islam in politics:
We think that we want to see the Islamic vision and principles implemented in our
country… and we want to implement these principles on the basis of equality, on
the basis of dignity as Islam propagates these values and principles (Hqaneh).
Al-Masimi compared the rule of Islamic law by using the United States as a comparison:
For example, in America, your laws are coming from the Greek and Roman
culture, and it is also related to something. We are not cut from a tree. We should
be related [to something]. According to this, we believe in implying shari’a. It
doesn’t mean that all girls will wear hijab, or that we will kill all the people that
are not Muslim. We are not Taliban. For example, you have the Hamas
experiment in Gaza. The people there are linked to Islam (Al-Masimi).
While Al-Masimi implied that shari’a rule would not mean Islamic laws would be
implemented on all citizens of Jordan, she did not clarify the difference between drawing
principles from Islam and direct shari’a law. When asked why she chose to join IAF of
all Islamic parties, Al-Masimi claimed other Islamic parties are not “as Islamic as the
IAF,” a point which she did not explain further. However, she linked the IAF with the
Muslim Brotherhood, which she asserted as “the movement that is really working for
Islam. And this party, coming from the Brotherhood, is working for Islam” (Al-Masimi).
The independent Al-Saud countered Al-Masimi’s assertion of the IAF being more
Islamic than other parties. While in the same strain of Islamic policies, Al-Saud said she
found separate Islamic parties to be centered around people instead of policies:
As a whole, the majority of these parties, while they have similar visions, they
have only differences in their names and titles, so why are they not together? Why
do we have 35 when we need 4 or 5 at maximum? Because everybody wants to be
the boss. I can’t be an instrument to be someone’s boss (Al-Saud).
Al-Saud’s formal separation from Islamic parties makes her an outlier in a group of
outliers. But her position, in terms of Islam’s role in Jordanian politics, is essentially the
same as that of the IAF’s Al-Masimi and Hqaneh. Like Al-Masimi, Al-Saud mentions
that Islam is declared the religion of the country. The problems, however, lie in the
implementation of the Islamic vision.
The women of Hizbut al-Wast presented a unique stance among the women I
interviewed. None mentioned shar’ia at any point, but stressed the importance of
moderation in Islam, hence their party name, the Islamic Moderation Party. Their goals
were largely cultural, such as separating fundamentalist rhetoric from laws, and moving
towards a more humble and responsive state. “I want minsters to go down to the street
and not stay in his office. In Islam, the responsible man goes down and asks about [the
people’s] needs, he tries to solve their problems. The citizens have to have access to their
leader,” said Zakia Rawajdeh, Vice President of Hizbut al-Wast’s women’s committee.
According to Al-Masimi, the IAF has four major goals in Jordanian politics:
“Justice, social development, economical development and implying shari’a”(Al-
Masimi). The first three were echoed by her colleague Hqaneh, but the latter never
32 Ahmad
asserted the implementation of shari’a, only that the rules should be drawn from it, as Al-
Masimi referenced in her example with the United States. “All rules should be in
congruence with Islam,” said Hqaneh, “Anything that is not in congruence with Islam, it
is a direct violation of the constitution” (Hqaneh).
Thus, of the Muslim women I interviewed, all found that their parties took no
issue with the Jordanian constitution, as it asserts the country to be an Islamic nation.
However, these women envision a heavier appliance of shari’a in law making. Their
vagueness in the matter suggests several interpretations, all of which are only
interpretations. Al-Masimi implies shari’a law would not apply to all, but none of the
Islamic women mentioned religious minorities in the least. However, as representatives
of Muslims in the government, their views are unsurprisingly in support of an increased
interconnectedness between religion and politics
Patriotism Through an Islamic Lens
While their vision for Islamic politics stems from their belief in the implication of
shari’a law, the women I interviewed attribute their interest in politics to a religious duty.
Al-Masimi mentioned the sura in the Qu’ran, which implores both male and female
believers to do good (“Al-Mominoona wa al-Mominaat”), but she asserts that her own
involvement in politics is part of her da’wa, or her religious duty to preach and spread
Islam (Barlas, 44). “The most important thing for me is working for Islam. I told [my
husband], this is the most important thing for me, da’wa. If you accept this, okay” (Al-
Masimi). This was in response to whether her husband supports her in her political
endeavors. By answering with “da’wa,” she implicates that her political activity is as
such an extension of her da’wa.
Hqaneh of the IAF echoed a similar sense of duty. “As Muslims, we are ordered
to good and negate the vil. This is Islam. It is part of our duty as Muslims to give services
to our community and to [be] involved in the daily life of our society.” She continued
with by stating, “all things are related to politics. Whatever you do. Education is politics.
Bread earning is politics, running the state with all of its details is politics” (Hqaneh). Her
all-encompassing view of politics mirrored her all-encompassing view of religion,
making the two intertwined and inseparable. “I believe that working in politics is a major
aspect of working in Islam,” said Al-Masimi, and she added “and it is an aspect which
many people don’t work in, especially in our [Arab] countries.” Al-Saud, however,
refrained from making the connection between her duty to her country and her religion:
“I always felt responsibility towards my country and my nation” (Al-Saud). Al-Saud’s
views were the most secular, due entirely to her rhetoric and narrative. Perhaps this is
why she remains independent of any official parties, but her goals align with those of the
IAF. When asked how she would change the government, her response was, “At first, to
fight corruption. It is a big problem. And this is opposed to the general development.
Second, make a new development plan concerning the economic situation, because most
of our problems are based on the economic situation” (Al-Saud).
As a member of the IAF, Hqaneh stated similar concerns, but with an Islamic
perspective:
We are fighting against corruption. We have so many issues to tackle, by
implementing Islamic principles. If you are an Islamist, surely you are against
corruption; surely you are against dictatorship because you believe in dignifying
human beings, because God has dignified all human beings. To be silent and to
34 Ahmad
shut up, and to accept and to be ruled by dictatorship, this means you are violating
a basic principle of Islam (Hqaneh).
Hqaneh articulates what Al-Saud and Al-Masimi liken with their views on Islam in their
motivation to join politics. In her opinion, corruption and dictatorship fall under the
category of “munkir,” or bad, as labeled by Al-Masimi (Al-Masimi).
The women of Hizbut al-Wast expressed a range of answers within the same
scope of Al-Masimi, Al-Saud and Hqaneh, stating that their religion demands them to
apply themselves fully to every endeavor, whether that be raising their children or aiding
their country. A concept that was never mentioned in other interviews was that of ajur, or
a bonus for the Judgement Day. Several women asserted taking an Islamic route in
politics will earn them ajur, which will ensure their entrance to heaven (Abu Ali, et. al).
In all other regards, however, the women of Hizbut al-Wast were in the same stream of
religious duty their peers were in. Al-Momani essentially repeated exactly what Al-
Masimi referenced earlier with her take on spiritual motivations behind politics: “We are
called upon to do a good job and to prevent others from doing bad, m’aroof and munkir.
The Qu’ran obligates us in politics to encourage people to do good and prevent bad
actions. As soon as you go to Islam, you become and activist” (Abu Ali, et. al).
The morality of these women’s politics is stemmed from their religion. All the
flaws the subjects find in the government are not only unjust, they are anti-Islamic. For
the subjects, duty to their nation is inseparable from duty to their religion.
Conclusion The women of Jordan’s Islamist movements are deft maneuverers within an
intricate system of Islamic and modern ideals. The Arab world has been struggling with
the friction between modernity and Islam, and how the two can coexist within the same
society. The group of women I interviewed is living example of Islamic modernity. Their
political forays are becoming normalized, but only after this generation paves the road for
the women of the future. In the meantime, their political consciousness is being awoken
not only by their surroundings, but by a frustration stemmed from their society’s
confines. While they do not go so far as to overthrow the structure in which they live,
they navigate the social landmines with a perceptiveness and earnest.
Islamic identity is inseparable from these women’s political identity. Their
religious motivations are not limited to their private lives, and their beliefs, as they
understand them, implore them to care for their nation and their people. In a time where
the Arab world has a chance to create a new identity for itself, it is clear why these
women choose Islam as the banner under which they enter the political world.
36 Ahmad
Limitations
As a basic survey of women in Islamic politics, this study by no means fully
covers the depths and differences of the movement within Jordan. My subjects, few in
number, were all from metropolitan areas. While covering two major Islamic political
parties and an independent, the opinions of these women cannot represent the views of
women throughout the entire movement. Their individual experiences by no means can
be projected onto all women active in Islamic politics. However, the study is a basic
glance at the opinions and motivations behind a sampling of women from these various
groups.
Recommendations for further study
Because this study is an introduction to women in Jordan’s Islamic politics, there
are several avenues through which the topic can be expanded upon. Admittedly, one of
the major shortfalls of this study is my lack of interviews with women from the Muslim
Brotherhood. Expansion on their activities would contribute greatly to the study. In
addition, a comparative analysis of women in the two major political parties, the Islamic
Action Front and Hisbut Al-Wast, could highlight differences between party stances and
their effects on women. Second, a more extensive look at the formation of Islamic ideals
in government independent of party loyalties is worth examining. I am most interested in
this aspect of my study, and if I had further resources and time, I would examine the
creation of Islamic political morals via mass surveys or questionnaires.
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