Women in Tunisian Politics: Two Contrasting Perspectives - Publications

“A Gazelle and a Lioness:” An Interview with Mehrezia Labidi

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Mehrezia, I know your father was an Imam. Can you tell me a bit about how he influenced your leadership style?

Yes, my father was an imam. What differentiated him from other imams was that he was extremely advanced & liberal in his thought – he was a reformist. He graduated from Zaytouna, Tunisia’s most venerated religious institution, and was deeply influenced by his professor, the famous Sheikh Fadhel Ben Achour.

He impacted me so much, my father… Since my early teens, he’d invite me and my siblings, but especially my sisters, to participate in the circles of discussion he had with students. We were a modest, lower-middle class family—two parents and eight children. But my father was teaching fiqh [Islamic jurisprudence]—he was an imam and a very learned man. So he had a kind of intellectual salon in which he received important members of our community— history teachers, the judges of our city, some civil servants also—and he invited us children to participate thoughtfully and critically, presenting our opinions and defending and arguing those opinions. Our views—the girls’ views—were as valuable as anyone else’s. He had a very deep respect for women & their intellectual abilities, and he inculcated this in us. He asked what we thought, and made it clear that we were all equals in discussions of ideas—both religious and political…

I also learned from my father how to defend the integrity of my positions even if I must pay a high price for it… During the Bourguiba and Ben Ali years [when government coercion was rampant] he taught us never to trade our dignity or principles for security or money, never to let the government buy our silence, and never to ask forgiveness for things we hadn’t done... “I’m no man to be bought,” he said. “I’m here to serve God and people—not the government.”

I learned a lot more about women and leadership from my grandmother, though. She was a genuine Berber—a real peasant! [laughs while picking up a picture of her] I learnt from her words—she used to tell me that, “you have to be a gazelle & a lioness.”

What do you think she meant by that?

Let me tell you: I was with her, in her olive groves, when I was small—maybe 7 or 8. Someone was singing in the distance with a lovely voice as often happens in Tunisia’s countryside. “I see my lover, walking like a gazelle as if she was fed by the milk of a lioness,” he sang. I said to my grandmother, “Mama—how can a gazelle drink the milk of a lion? Lions eat gazelles!” She stooped down and said, “This is a metaphor, my child. A woman must be sophisticated, lovely, like a gazelle. But she must be a lioness, too—strong, protecting her family, leading her children, and also standing up to face her man—saying ‘NO!’ to contradict him.” So my grandmother was talking about how to be at the same time feminine, but having a strong will—to be powerful, to defend one’s own rights and the rights of others.

You’ve become a symbol of Ennahda women. Opponents of Ennahda have gathered in the streets, shouting “Imra’a Tunsiya – mish Mehrezia!” [Tunisian women—not Mehrezia!]. How do you react to those criticisms, and to your newfound symbolic status?

When someone is a politician and wants to succeed they must be ready to be shouted at—to be claimed and defamed at the same time. This is not my first experience of deconstructing images... As you know, I lived in France for a number of years. My children were younger, and in addition to working and being an activist in French civil society, I was also a representative in their schools’ organization for parents. When I first started attending those parents’ meetings, nobody spoke to me. I suppose the other parents simply imagined, looking at my darker skin and my headscarf, that I couldn’t speak French [chuckles]. Or maybe they bought into this preconceived notion that Muslim women obey more than others or simply lack distinctive personalities.

The first time these other parents asked me my opinion was about whether or not a mosque should be built next to the school. I turned to them and said, “I’m not the mayor—I’m not concerned with whether a mosque is built next to the school. This is a city council issue.” In Tunisia, the issue isn’t so different… I think in Tunisia I represent trouble for some people because I deconstruct the image of Islamist women that the dictator built. We are described as women who are not audacious, with no capacity to build or lead. I’m proving the contrary.

I’m fluent across three languages. I was at the top of my career [in translation], and am now speaking firmly with conviction and confidence as a political leader. I’m still a member of the World Council of World Religions for Peace—I had as my colleagues Desmond Tutu, Sheikh Tamimi from Palestine, the patriarch of the Russian Orthodox Church. I sat next to the greatest religious men—Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish—so I’m familiar with dialogue with others.

I think this experience upsets a lot of people. It proves that the scheme they made for us is wrong. They decided that Tunisian women have to be this and this and that. I’m proving that Tunisian women are plural. I will never claim to be the symbol of Tunisian women because we made a revolution against having one specific symbol and model—we are diverse, and we are strong. I was exiled for twenty-five years in France because Tunisia stood against the concept of plurality—true social and political plurality. I am one face in Tunisia, one of many others. But I do ask for my due place, and for respect as being one part of this mosaic…

Women in Ennahda resisted against many, many things. They resisted oppression, they were prevented from getting an education and from having many privileges in Tunisia. But they fought as lionesses for their husbands, their boys, their fathers. Some members of the Tunisian elite, who didn’t know so much about our struggles, or who just decided to look away—they wrote off our achievements. They said to themselves “okay, these women were victims—they couldn’t finish their studies, they couldn’t work. They are not relevant. We can forget about them.”

But I finished my studies in Tunisia and in France—I worked in Tunisia & in France. I can be an outspoken woman with authority, and with a smile too. I will not make their task easy—I’m going to continue to be what I am. As I am with others, I am inside Ennahda. If I have to say no, I say no. I’m not the only woman. There are many of us like this—Ms. Farida Labidi, Ms. Monia Brahim—there are too many examples to name here.

Thousands of Tunisians protested the so-called ‘complementarity law’—Article 28—a few days after the Assembly released the first constitutional draft [on August 8, 2012]. Many French and English-language media outlets—and even the UN’s Women office in Tunisia—also criticized the law, which they said described men as women’s ‘compliments.’ Were such criticisms justified?

It was a real pity that some Western media and some international organizations only listened to one version of this story. Selma Mabrouk, the female MP who created this controversy, tried again to stir up another controversy, but she failed. She said some of our [Ennahda] MPs are backing a law to support polygamy, an allegation that is clearly absurd and unjustified to anyone who knows about Ennahda. I’m a member of the executive bureau of this assembly and we never received such a law. Indeed, when she [Ms. Mabrouk] was questioned more in-depth by a journalist about this, she backtracked and said, I’m “afraid” they will do it. There was no substance behind her allegations, just as the rumors she began about the translation of Article 28 were false.

As a politician, it’s my duty and obligation to listen to legitimate fears of Tunisian women. But what is really shameful—I will say it, shameful—is that some people are trying to build their political speech on fear, simply to create an atmosphere of panic.

Many people—Tunisians and outside observers—are wondering why Sharia didn’t make it into the constitution. Why wasn’t sharia mentioned as a source of law in the constitution, and how did Ennahda as a party internally decide against including Sharia?

Maybe these people aren’t quite sure about the history of Ennahda. It was created in the 1970s as a social movement with religious tendencies. Like many movements, it was created out of the [Egyptian Muslim] Brotherhood. But the process of Tunisification began quickly. We soon referred to Tunisian reformist thought as our main reference. From this point we recognized the [1956] Personal Status Code as one of the main founding elements of any social pact in Tunisia. If you revisit our literature, you’ll see that our leader Rached Ghannouchi and many others asked for entrenching liberties. They never asked for entrenching sharia. We were criticized by many of our Islamist friends from other countries about this, and we said, “No, no, no, entrenching liberties is intrinsically—inherently—an Islamic principle.”

Our reading is this: Islam as a monotheistic religion was sent down to humans who have free will. So we want to reinforce liberties—freedom of consciousness, political participation, etc. This is why for us [in Ennahda] the concept of sharia encompasses the sacred texts from the Quran and Sunna, but we also see that its biggest part is the fiqh [Islamic legal scholarship]. To a large extent it’s a human production. But—and this is very important—at the same time we are also aware that sharia in the public conception of many Tunisians means hudud, or corporal punishments. During this transitional period we are setting the foundations of democracy, drafting the word of law, etc. so we have to be careful. Using the word “Sharia” in the constitution could lead to many unintended interpretations that are controversial and even dangerous for the social peace.

This is what we [in Ennahda] decided after many long debates about what the meaning of the word “din” [religion]—both its legal and spiritual aspects. Din in Islam is a comprehensive word and concept, so it was a choice taken after extensive discussion, reflection, and—most importantly—after a democratic vote within the Majlis Shura. I can also tell you that Ennahda is the only party in Tunisia now that takes all its decisions after internal democratic votes. We are a very, very democratic party because we have many generations of activists, and many leading figures who are equal in strength. So when we take critical decision there’s no single person or voice that dominates our movement.

There was speculation concerning deep divisions within Ennahda after [former Prime Minister] Hamadi Jebali made his statements in February. Is Ennahda a beautiful mosaic of diversity in Tunisia or is it something that could, or is, splitting apart?

You know, we are in a country full of ancient Roman mosaics. Here, the mosaic is one of the oldest forms of art. So let me tell you very frankly, Ennahda is not falling apart, because it is a movement. This may be bad news for some of our detractors, but we are a broad and diverse movement. This movement is deeply rooted in the fabric of Tunisia, and is tightly linked to the country in both its history and its vision. What’s gathering us all together in Ennahda is the project, the vision—not the person, as in many other political parties. Our party is built around a project, not a person. The mechanism that allows us to gather so many different opinions is internal democracy. Many people expected Hamadi Jebali to leave the party after leaving the government. But, as you may remember, he was applauded when he came to Ennahda’s Shura assembly. I expected I might be the only person to stand up and applaud, or that maybe there would just be ten or so, but before I stood up everyone had beaten me to it—they were already standing up and applauding! That means we’ve reached a phase in our history as a party where we can coexist and stand with one another even if we disagree. What I can tell you is that Ennahda is one of the most united parties now, in spite of all these difficulties. And it’s normal that we have such tensions and difficulties. This is part of being a diverse movement.

How are more liberally minded people in Ennahda dealing with well-known conservative elements. Ennahda is not only made of Mehrezias—there are also Sadok Chorous and Habib Ellouzes. [Sadok Chorou and Habib Ellouze are two prominent conservatives in Ennahda].

I think that we disturb them and they disturb us, but I also know that if people aren’t disturbed they can’t change their perspectives and alter their mindsets. Disturbing people helps them advance in their ideas [smiling]. In politics, to be audacious—to really be a leader—one must be a bit of a disturbing voice, while not being too subversive.

How is Ennahda resolving internal tensions between its status as a social movement versus its identity as a political party?

I think that’s one of the issues we have to think about and work to solve from now to our next conference. I think our movement is quite able to divide the two spheres of action. Many of our members and supporters really want to invest in dawa [proselytizing], education, and culture, whereas many others want to be in politics. I think this is really the issue. It can be tricky, but we are working to make it smooth. We must manage to make more separation without making social action and politics contradictory things, or creating a rivalry between them.

I’ve read that you’re a fan of D.H. Lawrence.

Yes, yes I am! I’ve visited his city in Nottinghamshire! I think his greatest artistic achievement was Women in Love, because in that book he was able to describe the period—the restlessness, the anxiety, the will to breach it all and find that strength to love, to be human. I need to read Women in Love at least once every year. In my library at home I have a very well-worn copy. Indeed, my husband and I have chosen our motto—our own sort of marital anthem—from a quotation in this book: “You are mine and I am yours in love, and I am I and you are you in thought. Independently we share our lives together.”

I’m going to ask you a potentially silly question, but I think it’s something many people— particularly outside Tunisia—would wonder. How do you square your Islamist identity with this love for D.H. Lawrence? He’s known for open discussions of human sexuality. He was heavily censored in his day, and tends to be unpopular with conservatives even now.

[Laughs] You know, I think we have to be confident in our citizens and our young people. We must forget about censorship, but focus instead on giving them the right education and critical thinking tools so that they can really choose what is adequate for their own selves with responsibility. I have always stood against the Egyptian government’s decision, for example, to ban Naguib Mahfouz’s novel Owled Haretna [Children of Gebelawi]. I’ve never understood why Al-Azhar censored this. I think it should be studied in our schools! It’s a deeply philosophical text—I find it to be a questioning of totalitarianism, something very valuable… So this censorship was a very bad choice. I’d prefer to give intellectual weapons to youth to understand all messages then leave them free to read whatever they want to read. My other motto is that only liberty and freedom can regulate liberty and freedom.

Fighting Repressions and Setting an Example: An Interview with Maya Jribi

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Can you tell me about your parents, Maya, and how they influenced your leadership style?

My parents taught me two things: To speak frankly and to work hard. I was educated in a rigorous environment: being on time, doing my homework and chores on time, not dirtying the living room, etc. So there were rules, but speaking the truth was important, too. My mother is very frank, and always uses inclusive, team-building language at home. Maybe that’s why I’m always calling for a national dialogue between Tunisians, and for consensus. I think these are the things I learned from my parents’ values.

Even decades before the 2011 revolution, Tunisian women were well-known for enjoying an advanced status compared to women in the rest of the Arab world. Do you think that reputation was deserved?

First, I want to say that women’s rights are neither an Arab nor Muslim cause per se— it is a universal cause. All over the world we strive so that women are more valued, have more rights and become more visible. There are certain advances for Tunisian women compared not just to the Arab world but to women’s status in other countries globally. We already have here, for instance, the right to get abortions, the right to vote, the right to be nominated and run as president. We are therefore more advanced than some EU countries regarding certain elements of women’s rights. So yes, I will say it clearly: our reputation [for having this advanced status] is deserved. It was achieved throughout the country’s history of openness, and our ability to transform diversity into an advantageous element of enrichment and strength.

Can you talk a bit more about how women’s rights have been perceived in Tunisian society?

This is a country that has had the advantage of undergoing a reform process, culturally speaking, that has been very progressive. For over two centuries, there has been a call for schooling. Education in general was very valued, particularly women’s education. There has been a trend of women participating in public life. Men, often fathers, encouraged this trend. Bchira Ben Mrad, an iconic female activist, was encouraged a lot by her father. Similarly, Aziza Othmena was involved in humanitarian work… as an accepted social actor. Women in Tunisia have been active in social life and were generally encouraged by their fathers or sheikhs. So we’ve experienced a very open, participatory cultural current that calls for women participation. That’s why women were able to participate in politics. Women weren’t always on the frontlines holding the biggest [political] positions, unfortunately, but they were certainly present. I’ll give you an example.

In 1938 when Tunisians demanded a parliament women went out and demonstrated on the streets. It’s true they protested separately from the men, but those were political protests nonetheless. All this helped produced an open mind set conducive to women right. It provided a certain assurance to women that they could be present in public life. That’s why when the [1956] Personal Status Code appeared and when [former president] Habib Bourguiba encouraged woman to engage in public service, they responded positively and declared their presence.

Do you think Islamism represents a threat to women’s rights in Tunisia?

I consider extremism as the real threat. Being Islamist, thinking that Islam is a “solution,” wearing the veil, and having an Islamist lifestyle are not threats… But extremism in the name of Islam, the absence of democracy, and dictatorship really are threats. In every time of social change, women are the most threatened. This is true all over the world and particularly in our society where we use Islam as an element of dictatorship. Women’s achievements are threatened today. I’m confident—I’m concerned, but confident. What is happening are not isolated acts but a social phenomenon [of extremism] that requires us to be more vigilant. Some people are asking women to withdraw to their homes and are making fataws [legal rulings] that have nothing to do with Islam, with our history, or with the natural development of society and modernity. This is a call for us to be vigilant.

I’m not worried, because I have faith in women and in our Tunisian society, which has been developing naturally. But if we don’t remain vigilant and face these challenges, this small phenomenon [of extremism] will gradually grow, and those extremists… will be able to impose a certain lifestyle through force. That is why civil society, women and politicians must face these challenges. That’s also why in today’s Tunisia the matter of women’s rights is much more a political question than a social one.

On balance, has the situation regarding women’s rights in Tunisia worsened after the revolution?

Women’s achievements after the revolution are more threatened, but women are also more visible now. They’re in associations, they’re on the streets, and they’re determined to defend their rights. This is very important. Don’t forget that the question of equality was only prescribed in the constitution when men and women protested in the streets. So from one side you find women active almost everywhere—in politics, in meetings, on the street, in associations etc.— and from the other side there are strange calls and phenomena that we should fight against. Three years old girls are being veiled sometimes, and women have been implicated in matters of jihad in Syria and complex political conflicts. So yes there is degradation from this side, because there is compulsion to wear the veil in certain cases, and there are also calls to erase all women’s achievement by force. But to me the most visible aspects of this period are women’s activism and combativeness.

Some Tunisians point out that before the revolution, under Ben Ali, religious women— specifically those involved with or suspected of involvement in the Ennahda movement— experienced myriad forms of abuse, including denial of religious expression, political imprisonment, and sexual abuse. Is it possible to say that women’s achievements are more under threat in Tunisia today?

It’s dangerous to say, “I choose between repressions.” Tunisians aspire for democracy, dignity and freedom. No repression is better than another. All repressions must be banned. Women’s rights and women’s dignity develop only when there’s democracy. Under Ben Ali, citizens didn’t enjoy their citizenship and today we fight for everybody’s citizenship. I won’t choose between Ben Ali’s repression and the extremists’ repression. I am struggling so that women participate in public life, so that they that acquire their social and economic rights, so that women become full-fledged citizens… We should be careful and not say that one repression is better than another.