Source: http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2014/apr/10/india-elections-women-want-say-politics
In 1952, a decade after the Indian independence activist Aruna
Asaf Ali hoisted the flag of the Indian National Congress at the Gowalia
Tank maidan, India held its first general elections. Women had come out
in massive numbers to take part in the marches and rallies of the
Indian freedom movement, and had filled the prisons of the British Raj
alongside the men. Now they thronged in equally large numbers to see for
themselves the new ballot boxes, and to cast their votes.
India's first chief election commissioner, Sukumar Sen, faced an unexpected problem. In many parts of north India the women refused to register themselves under their own names, asking to go by the custom of being called so-and-so's mother or X's wife. The historian Ramachandra Guha has told the story of how Sen refused to give in to this "curious senseless relic of the past" – he was obdurate, and 2.8 million women voters had to be struck off the rolls. Sen argued that the outrage over the omission would result in women registering under their own names in the next election, and he was proved right in time.
The practice of tradition might have briefly prevented Indian women from exercising the very modern right to universal franchise, but over the next few decades they would prove that they were unabashedly enthusiastic voters. Being a woman in modern India is hardly easy – the statistics on malnutrition, the struggle over basic rights to education and the constant attrition caused by crimes of violence against women take up much of the headlines, with some justice.
But the statistics on women's voting patterns in India tell a more subtle story: the determination of the Indian woman to exercise some of her rights has been constant over the years. It shows in the photographs of the long lines of women in saris, jeans, veiled or burkha-clad or with their heads uncovered, queuing at the polls in colourful variety in order to vote for one or another of the symbols that represent political parties on the ballot papers. According to the parliament of India female voter turnout increased from 38.8% in the 1950s to almost 60% in the 1990s, while the increase in the male turnout during the same period was only 4%.
In a key paper published in the Economic and Political Weekly this year, researchers Mudit Kapoor and Shamika Ravi point to "a steady and sharp decline in the gender bias in voting over time". The gender ratio of voters – the number of female voters to every 1,000 male voters – "increased very impressively from 715 in the 1960s to 883 in the 2000s". One of their more startling findings was that this held true across all Indian states, including those considered to be lagging socially or economically.
What are Indian women voting for, when they come out in such numbers? Not, sadly, for more women in parliament. Women constitute only 11% of both Indian houses of parliament, which is a small rise from 10% in the previously elected house. While female candidates are, according to data provided by PRS legislative research, more successful than men at winning elections (10% of all the women who stand for elections win their seats, while it's only 6% for male candidates), political parties are reluctant to field women in the elections. India's chiefly male political parties have also consistently opposed and blocked the passage of the women's reservation bill, which would have ensured that all parties had to keep 33% of seats for women. Opponents of women's reservation argue that female politicians can be just as conservative as their male counterparts, and that their mere presence in the houses of parliament might not bring about any kind of real change for women.
Several years ago, the Poverty Action Lab conducted a fascinating study on women and power. Its research analysed the impact of reservations for women at the village council level, and concluded that just the presence and visibility of female leaders had a significant impact on villages across many regions of India. Villages where women had a presence on local councils "clearly showed that men and women have different preferences over public goods". To put it bluntly, women invested more in infrastructure that had a direct impact on improving the lot of the average woman, whether their priorities were for better water supplies or more investment in education. The visibility of women in leadership roles also appears to have an impact in encouraging girls and women to continue with their education and to consider future career options differently.
When we see the steady swell in women coming out to vote, the message is clear: women want to have a say in public life, even if the male Indian politician isn't willing to listen just yet.
India's first chief election commissioner, Sukumar Sen, faced an unexpected problem. In many parts of north India the women refused to register themselves under their own names, asking to go by the custom of being called so-and-so's mother or X's wife. The historian Ramachandra Guha has told the story of how Sen refused to give in to this "curious senseless relic of the past" – he was obdurate, and 2.8 million women voters had to be struck off the rolls. Sen argued that the outrage over the omission would result in women registering under their own names in the next election, and he was proved right in time.
The practice of tradition might have briefly prevented Indian women from exercising the very modern right to universal franchise, but over the next few decades they would prove that they were unabashedly enthusiastic voters. Being a woman in modern India is hardly easy – the statistics on malnutrition, the struggle over basic rights to education and the constant attrition caused by crimes of violence against women take up much of the headlines, with some justice.
But the statistics on women's voting patterns in India tell a more subtle story: the determination of the Indian woman to exercise some of her rights has been constant over the years. It shows in the photographs of the long lines of women in saris, jeans, veiled or burkha-clad or with their heads uncovered, queuing at the polls in colourful variety in order to vote for one or another of the symbols that represent political parties on the ballot papers. According to the parliament of India female voter turnout increased from 38.8% in the 1950s to almost 60% in the 1990s, while the increase in the male turnout during the same period was only 4%.
In a key paper published in the Economic and Political Weekly this year, researchers Mudit Kapoor and Shamika Ravi point to "a steady and sharp decline in the gender bias in voting over time". The gender ratio of voters – the number of female voters to every 1,000 male voters – "increased very impressively from 715 in the 1960s to 883 in the 2000s". One of their more startling findings was that this held true across all Indian states, including those considered to be lagging socially or economically.
What are Indian women voting for, when they come out in such numbers? Not, sadly, for more women in parliament. Women constitute only 11% of both Indian houses of parliament, which is a small rise from 10% in the previously elected house. While female candidates are, according to data provided by PRS legislative research, more successful than men at winning elections (10% of all the women who stand for elections win their seats, while it's only 6% for male candidates), political parties are reluctant to field women in the elections. India's chiefly male political parties have also consistently opposed and blocked the passage of the women's reservation bill, which would have ensured that all parties had to keep 33% of seats for women. Opponents of women's reservation argue that female politicians can be just as conservative as their male counterparts, and that their mere presence in the houses of parliament might not bring about any kind of real change for women.
Several years ago, the Poverty Action Lab conducted a fascinating study on women and power. Its research analysed the impact of reservations for women at the village council level, and concluded that just the presence and visibility of female leaders had a significant impact on villages across many regions of India. Villages where women had a presence on local councils "clearly showed that men and women have different preferences over public goods". To put it bluntly, women invested more in infrastructure that had a direct impact on improving the lot of the average woman, whether their priorities were for better water supplies or more investment in education. The visibility of women in leadership roles also appears to have an impact in encouraging girls and women to continue with their education and to consider future career options differently.
When we see the steady swell in women coming out to vote, the message is clear: women want to have a say in public life, even if the male Indian politician isn't willing to listen just yet.
No comments:
Post a Comment