Women’s Political Citizenship in Tunisia: The May 2018 Municipal Elections and the Gender Gap

Abstract

The 2018 municipal elections in Tunisia were the first to be held after the 2011 Arab Spring revolution. A new 2017 law required gender parity on electoral lists, even for positions at the top of those lists. However, women were wary of being thrust into the political fray, and many felt they were being tokenized. What is the possibility of a new generation of female politicians emerging in such a context? To uncover the factors and motivations behind the transition from non-participation to participation, I interviewed six women candidates of different political parties and conducted a focus group with eight Tunisian women who professed to be “not interested in politics”. Compulsory gender parity might foster women’s political participation in quantitative terms, but qualitatively, especially with the tokenizing male practice of nominating women candidates and expecting their “docile compliance,” this policy effectively maintains and reinforces gendered stereotypes about political competence. My findings show that women move back and forth across the spectrum from “high participation” to “politically disengaged”. Furthermore, their relationship to political participation is best described as a cyclical process marked by punctual commitments and which can be hindered by internal and external factors or periods of hibernation.

1. Introduction

The municipal elections of 6 May 2018 in Tunisia were notable and unique in two ways. Indeed, this was the first local election after the elections of the National Constituent Assembly in 2011 and the parliamentary and then presidential elections in 2014. It was therefore an election likely to raise expectations in the administrative districts that since 2011 had only been represented by special delegations appointed by the executive and not elected by the people. Second, the new electoral law had for the first time imposed a requirement of vertical and horizontal parity between women and men on the electoral lists, including for the top of those lists. The expectations and opportunities presented by this election (Puchot 2012), however, came up against a tense political and social context that led to a critical abstention rate. Disenchantment due to the fragile and fractious socio-political situation in the country led to a low participation rate: only 35.6% of registrants cast their votes (ISIE 2018).

The question that arises is, therefore: What is the possibility of a new generation of female politicians emerging in such a context, considering the ambivalence of women toward the gender parity requirement?

Through a qualitative field survey in the city of Tazarka in the governorate of Nabeul, in the period leading up to the elections, involving interviews with women candidates in the elections—from different political affiliations, including those listed as “independent”—I aim to identify profiles of women who are politically involved or at least intellectually engaged in the process.

Through a focus group of women who say they are “disinterested in politics”, I examined the converse of voluntary political participation: namely, non-participation as a choice by women, and the causes and contextual significance of women choosing non-participation over participation. Concurrently, I sought the origins of the apparent break with politics and the shifting boundaries between different forms of participation. The objective is to confront the two types of discourse: that of women involved in politics and that of women who said that politics “meant nothing to them”. The aim was less to identify two opposite categories, which was not really the case, than it was to identify the factors and motivations behind the transition to participation by following obvious paths of engagement such as voting or running for office.

2. Theoretical Frame

Izdebski (1988) described the role of law as guaranteeing and preserving a society’s existence and identity. This is why, he explained, it cannot be identified with a transcendental will or decision because, “in order to be applicable, it must enjoy a consensus of society, to derive, in a sense, from its mentality, its culture, even its cerebral system” (Izdebski 1988, p. 572, translation mine).

In Tunisia, the statute that provides for gender equality is groundbreaking—a first in the country’s history. It implies an eventual end to the under-representation of women in the political sphere through the mechanism of decentralization of power. The local is envisaged, according to Eric Gobe as being “at the heart of the revolution” (Gobe 2017, p. 153, translation mine). The women who contributed to the fall of the old regime will finally be able to take up positions of responsibility, facilitated by legislation. Jérôme Heurtaux notes,

It is impossible to change a regime without “making” law. Redefining the limits of powers and the relationships between them, shaping new political roles, defining the nature of legitimate political players and the boundaries within which they may operate and organising elections are all tasks frequently observed in any democratisation process. To be successfully completed all require certain actions involving the law to be undertaken.

(Heurtaux 2013, p. 519)

It is not just a question of making rules, but of making use of these rules so that all actors can contribute to the social process of building legality (Ewick and Silbey 2004). This legality is based mainly on the concept of equality that the electoral gender parity law is supposed to actuate as a better alternative to the quota system. Tunisia’s codification of gender parity (Statute No. 2017-7 amending and supplementing Statute No. 2014-16 of 26 May 2014) relating to municipal and regional elections is one of the rare exceptions in the Arab world. In fact, in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) region most countries do not even have quotas for women in their parliaments. (Djibouti, Egypt, and Jordan have mandatory quotas for women MPs to hold a minimum of 10% of seats; Morocco’s quota for women MPs is 15%, and Iraq’s quota is 25%. In addition to the 10% quota in parliament, Egypt has a 25% quota for women on local councils (World Bank 2016)).

Tunisia’s adoption of a law recognizing women’s rights to political participation and access to public space was considered a historical turning point in the Arab-speaking world. However, the principle of “horizontality” which would require parties and independent lists to alternate between male and female candidates and the heads of lists, was not fully implemented. Resistance from the secular camp prevented the establishment of complete parity in electoral lists, with the majority of parties reluctant to nominate women as heads of lists. As a result, only 6% of the heads of the lists were women, highlighting the limits of an exclusive analysis of the structural dimension of gender mainstreaming. Patriarchal norms also interfered with the implementation of parity, with parties reluctant to nominate women to the top of their lists due to perceived lack of votes during elections and a proven gap of representation of female candidates in the media (Antonakis 2019).

In Tunisia, as in Algeria, the new electoral law requires gender parity on the electoral lists. Indeed, Statute No. 2017-7 aims to remedy the shortcomings observed in the implementation of parity in the 2011 constituent elections, in which female candidates were at the top of only 7% of the lists, and in the 2014 general elections, where women topped just 12% of the candidate lists. According to Article 49, candidates for municipal and regional councils are submitted on the basis of gender parity and alternation within the list. The principle of parity extends, according to the same article, to candidates at the top of partisan lists, lists of coalitions, and candidates in more than one electoral district.

However, does parity mean equality? Writing about gender parity and political participation in France, Lépinard (2007) shows that parity does not necessarily lead to equality: “In France, we believed that the idea of parity would put an end to the political exclusion of women. Yet equality still struggles to translate into action” (Lépinard 2007, cover blurb; translation mine). There is a theoretical distinction, at least at this level, between equality under the law, claimed and imposed by the latter, and equality in fact, observable and circumscribed in the daily experiences of the political participation of women and men.

The question is refined in the course of this reasoning as follows: Does equality under the law (imposed by law) necessarily lead to equality in fact as regards the participation of women in public and political life?

Achin (2012) noted that “the ‘feminine’ resource, like the ‘diversity’ resource, is stigmatizing for those who find themselves diminished and boxed in [as much as they are locked out], when it comes to accessing real power positions for which traditional clannish political resources remain decisive” (Achin 2012, p. 52; translation mine). In Africa, women’s participation in political decision-making has increased, but is often confined to certain domains such as childhood, women, and social affairs, with limited representation in positions of sovereign authority. Women are often excluded from positions of real decision-making power, such as executive leadership roles, and are instead relegated to positions that are traditionally associated with femininity. This has led to a persistent gender gap in political representation, hindering progress towards gender equality and inclusive governance (Zipporah 2019).

However, with a somewhat pessimistic reservation, we run the risk of ignoring the breach created by the consecration of this law on parity, which goes in the same direction as the one aimed at eliminating all forms of violence against women: both are intended to facilitate women’s access to public space and public life and make it a more viable and structured space for them.

According to a regional survey on women’s participation in public and political life conducted in the MENA region in 2015 (CAWTAR 2016), the main barriers to participation in the Tunisian case were the absence of political socialization, the sexual division of space, poverty, and dropping out of school, but also the devaluing representations of women in politics and the lack of social recognition. These last two barriers call for a progressive change such as that induced by the electoral gender parity law to reduce the Gender Gap in terms of political participation between women and men.

For the purposes of this study, I ascribe a particular sociopolitical meaning to the term “gender gap,” a concept that generally refers to disparities between women and men in “levels of participation, access, rights, remuneration or benefits” (EIGE. n.d., p. 1178).

The literature on women’s political citizenship in Tunisia highlights the importance of legal and institutional frameworks, civil society, and women’s agency and activism in promoting women’s political participation and representation. However, scholars also acknowledge the challenges and constraints that limit women’s full political citizenship, including cultural norms, patriarchal power structures, economic constraints, and government restrictions on civil society. Further research is needed to explore these dynamics in greater detail and to develop effective strategies for promoting women’s political citizenship in Tunisia and other contexts.

Moreover, the theme of Tunisian women’s participation in elections remains little or not at all studied, especially in academia, leaving the impression that only NGOs, associations and the media are interested in it. One of the most recent articles seems to be that of Blanc and Carpentier (2018) on the issue of municipal elections in Tunisia. However, gender issues seem to be set aside in favour of decentralisation issues. Our article will therefore aim to innovate the literary question under the prism of gender studies. It is also this surprising gap in the academic literature between the late 1990s and today that prompts us to write this article.

3. Materials and Methods

Data for this research was collected in order to examine both political participation and non-participation, as well as the middle ground—the shifting boundaries—between the two phenomena. Thus, the data came from two main sources. To capture participation, I conducted a qualitative field survey in the city of Tazarka in the governorate of Nabeul in March and April 2018, the period leading up to the municipal elections.

I obtained the names of candidates from the official lists and tried to get their contact information from people from the same city. The main difficulty here was in the lack of availability of the interviewees since it was the period just prior to the elections and they were quite busy. Only two candidates from the list of Ennahdha (the largest party at the time) whom I was able to contact were available to be interviewed. Therefore, I aimed to obtain interviews with the same number of people from the other lists. The final sample consisted of six women. Four of these candidates represented the two largest political parties at the time (2 were on Ennahdha’s party list, 2 others were listed by Nidaa Tounes); the other two were on a list of independent candidates—not affiliated with any party. All six candidates were running for equivalent positions across the three lists.

The survey consisted of semi-structured interviews, and took place in Tazarka from 15 March to 25 April 2018. Interviews were conducted in Arabic, each in a single session; each interview lasted 1.5 to 2 h. The participants have been selected on the basis of purposive sampling. The interviews were audio recorded; I also took notes during the interviews. I subsequently transcribed the recordings and translated them into French and English. Interviewees gave prior permission for recording, transcription, translation, and anonymized use of the data (excerpts of participants’ statements used in this article have been ascribed to them using randomly assigned initials, such as “E.N”.). Interviewees were informed that they would have the opportunity to review the transcriptions if they so wished, and that any content they did not approve of would not be used in the research.

To explore non-participation, I gathered additional qualitative data via a focus group of eight women between the ages of 18 and 51 who said they were “disinterested in politics”. I identified these individuals through the networks of relationships of the interviewees and of the informants who had connected me to the interviewees. The focus group met for a single three-hour session in April 2018, in Tazarka, Nabeul. Participants were told that they did not have to respond to any prompt or answer any question that they did not wish to. The session was audio recorded and I took notes. I later transcribed the recording and translated the transcription into French and English. Focus group participants gave prior permission for recording, transcription, translation, and anonymized use of the data (excerpts of participants’ statements used in this article have been ascribed to them using randomly assigned initials, such as “B.A”.). They were informed that they would have the opportunity to review the transcription if they so wished, and that any content they did not approve of would not be used in the research.

I employed content analysis and interpretation to analyze the data from the interviews and the focus group. For example, in the focus group, when a participant said that she was not interested in politics, I did not take her response at face value. Rather, I analyzed the level of her involvement and interest in the discourse she was providing on public affairs, since that is a form of political participation according to Gaxie (1993). I also utilized gender analysis throughout the entire process of data analysis.

4. Results and Discussion

4.1. Participation–Profiles and Experiences of Women Candidates in Municipal Elections

Elections represent one of many forms of political participation, and there are several levels of participation in public and political life (Abdellatif 2020). First, there is the symbolic participation embodied in the public interest. According to Gaxie (1993), due to social inequalities not everyone has the same ability to access and understand “public things”, and thus censorship or exclusion is a hidden barrier to participation. Formulating and expressing a policy opinion is a more advanced level than understanding. Second, cooperative participation refers to any initiative which requires entering into relationship(s) with state structures. Finally, effective participation corresponds to engagement in an association or political party. In this sense, elections would be the most complete form of the exercise of citizenship.

The new joint electoral law in Tunisia raised the stakes to a higher level: women now had the right not only to elect, but to be elected in an equal way to men: that means with the same number of men and women on every electoral list as well as when it comes to list leaders. Here, we mean the condition of vertical and horizontal parity in building electoral lists. Thus, instantly, women go from being able to participate to being required to participate. This imperative, not being received in the same way by women, has sometimes pushed candidates and party members to engage in a hunt for women candidates by taking the shortest routes.

According to the interviewees, it was a matter of assigning a man or a woman to look for the “missing number” and fill in the gaps on the candidate lists. This suggests a tokenization of women just to filling the list, and this is contrary to the intent, meaning, and principle of election, since to elect is to choose, to make a selection, to single out. The random filling of lists based on the recruitment of women candidates by men based on their belonging to their allies’ networks is contrary to the principle of free choice to stand for election and the election of women candidates who are certain of their willingness to stand and have a programme and a vision. The small number of women who volunteered to run for office has therefore affected the gender issue. The alternative to this ad hoc list-filling was the “personalized recruitment” of candidates, hence the importance of interconnected relationships and women’s positions of personal dependence on the men heading the lists. Some women who were invited to apply were particularly chosen for being political outsiders. This would ostensibly guarantee that they would toe the line and be “docile” in the eyes of the list makers.

In the study sample, one respondent was approached by her boss, others by neighbors, and still others by candidates they knew personally. The relationship is therefore pivotal in the decision of some women as to their candidacy and political affiliation. In most cases, the choices are based on a relationship of trust with a person and not on knowledge of the parties or groups of candidates and their platforms. These choices influenced by third parties suggest the roles of those I call “initiators”. Initiators reinforce the gulf between the women they influence and the public in that they interpose themselves as “opinion leaders”. They are most often patriarchs of families, professional team leaders, or other influential people in these women’s relationship circles:

“I had no plans to apply [for candidature]. I received two proposals, the first from my deputy director. He offered to associate me with their list, I told him that I am not with Ennahdha party and he insisted, asking me, Who would serve the country if everyone sat on their hands under such a pretext? He told me that I am good at finance and that I understand a lot about budget management and that the municipality is not a party. So I accepted, especially when I saw that I knew all the names on the list, all from my city. But then, when I was given a form to fill out and had to sign that I would not oppose the decisions of Ennahdha; I withdrew. I cannot accept this commitment; if I participate, it is to give my opinion freely. So after that I was solicited by independents, people in my city too, and I accepted”.

(S.B., 43, married, Head of Hospital Supply)

In some cases, these initiators or opinion leaders are highly exposed to the media and political debates, and take it upon themselves to “translate” the discourse of the various channels of communication and relay it to those who are least interested. A young candidate on Ennahdha’s list mentioned:

“I didn’t understand anything about politics and elections, and I never thought about participating in anything. It was M.B. who came to me the first time. He is from our neighborhood and I have so much confidence in him. He convinced me to try it out and explained a lot of things I didn’t know”.

(G.B., 30, single, factory production manager)

In the communication sciences, this mediation is characteristic of the two-step flow of communication (Katz 1957), in which ideas flow, not directly from mass media the masses, but rather from mass media to opinion leaders and from the latter to the general population. Knowledge and learning about public affairs, for some Tunisian women, and certainly by the participants in this study, is thus mediated by intermediaries who largely influence their positions, opinions, and choices.

In other cases, and far from the influence of primary groups (family, neighborhood community, occupational group, etc.), the initiative was that of the candidates, and their choice of whether or not to belong to a party was determined in advance. Several interviewees said it was their first experience and they were encouraged by the fact that it was a municipal election:

“What encouraged me to apply was the fact that it was a municipal election, you understand? That is to say, local. For the other elections, I participated in the ISIE offices only, I did not run for office. Because when it is at the local level, it is not the same—we can really do things, we can serve the country. Women in particular can do something at the local level. I tell you one thing, if the law did not require the participation of women and young people, I assure you that many women would not be on the lists!”.

(Z.C, 36, married, employee in a hospital)

However, many women, speaking about their experiences as voters, made their choice of party by trial and error. One of the candidates interviewed reported:

“At the beginning I chose Marzouki, as there were only three parties, Ennahdha, the “communists” and the CPR. I felt that he was good and moderate like me. But then I found out he’s not strong enough to be president.

In fact, for me, politics was something completely new, I didn’t know about it, and then I voted for Nidaa Tounes. I thought he [the party leader] was good, and I thought it was time for me to join the party. I got involved, and when I got in touch with the members, I was disappointed. I wasn’t even allowed to speak: they told me I didn’t know anything and I had to shut up. It was the same story. So I thought, for the next election I’m going to have a blank ballot to show my dissatisfaction and disappointment.

My boss, who was from Ennahdha party, offered me an alliance with his party, but there was no question of that, for me, religion and politics must never be intertwined.

Then someone I knew offered to associate me with a group of independent candidates. Actually, their head of the list was a former RCD [member of the ruling party before the revolution], Mr. A.D., he was named along with a few others as “the Kurds” [a term used to imply outsiders]. Because they were opponents in some way, I was shown documents and I felt it was true, and this gentleman was correct and kind, so I accepted”.

(E.N., 34, divorced, computer science graduate)

Being novices in politics, some women are forced to accept a ranking imposed by the initiator in the electoral list. However, what emerged in the interviews was discrimination against young women candidates regarding the right to speak. Being female and without political experience made them fair game, especially for “men of a certain age” who had years of political experience who were, in a word, “competent”. This criterion of competence proves to be the objective of a subjective presupposition and a mechanism for reproducing inequalities.

Three candidates in the sample expressed a great deal of frustration with the silence imposed on them at meetings. It is as if “Be beautiful and be silent” replaces that old injunction of “Participate and be silent!” The words of E.N. on this subject are revealing:

“There is a certain dictatorship among the elders under the pretext that they are old, that they are the only ones who understand politics. If you are a woman, and if you are young, you do not understand anything; you do not even have the right to speak. I was clearly ordered to shut up! When I attend meetings, I do not exist for them, I am there for the form [to fill the spot], I am not allowed to utter one word. They know everything and I know nothing! It made me very angry. It is true that I do not speak like them, but I can have a position and I need to express it”.

(E.N., 34, divorced, graduated in computer science)

These discriminatory practices show that the inequalities between men and women have not dissipated, but are subject to a contraction effect and are displaced at the level of the daily subtext, at the level of the interactions and internal relations of small groups. Moreover, these practices take as alibi “discursive incompetence” and violations of the institutional grammar of meetings. According to Bacqué and Mechmache (2013), participation means being able to act, and according to Ricœur (2001), being able to act means first being able to articulate.

In this sense, women are prevented from participating, and women are targeted at the beginning of the process. Many possible comparisons can be made with other contexts. One such is that of France, based on the assessments made by Achin (2012) and her coauthors (Achin et al. 2007) of the effects on political practices and on the “electoral game” of that country’s gender parity law of 6 June 2000. In this regard, Bereni (2010) remarked that Achin et al. (2007) observed a gap between “the stage, on which the process of capturing the vote is unfolding” and where the presence of women is very visible, and “the wings, where the puppet strings of the political game are pulled” (Achin et al. 2007, p. 82, as cited in Bereni 2010, p. 232; translation mine). The men in charge of making lists assign the new entrants to roles and limits that they must not transgress. They are few in number in local executives and often placed in social delegations devoted to early childhood and women, for example, while the more political and economically powerful delegations (such as transport or housing) are mainly allotted to men. This maintains the old public space/private space distribution on the basis of gender.

However, in addition to gender-based discriminatory practices, interview participants also mentioned what might be called a generational effect. It is a kind of “birthright” claimed by men of a certain age and according to which they refocus the exclusion of women and adjust it in accordance with the organization of the space of participation and action. In this space where the presence of women is essential, exclusion is achieved by reducing this presence to a figurative one, by preventing women’s active participation. Discrimination is therefore cumulative, combining gender and age in the power relations between men and women, resulting in young people and women being targets of that discrimination.

The Tazarka survey has made it possible to highlight profiles of female candidates that suggest a relatively young population, most often working in the public sector. Notwithstanding, this study sample, which does not easily negotiate its location on electoral lists and whose political choices are easily influenced, includes cases in which a candidate is recognized as having “a certain charisma” and an ability to be heard and expressed: in short, the know-how to participate. Among these women are those who have highlighted a link between their marital status (married, single, or divorced) and their experiences as candidates in municipal elections:

“When I got married and went to [another Arab country] with my husband to force me to be a stay-at-home mom, I started thinking, I’m not meant to be a stay-at-home wife, I always feel I have potential. I attended a human development training and that was the trigger. A few months later I was in charge of a polling station during the 2014 legislative elections, despite my husband. We got divorced right away and I returned to Tunisia with my son, but with a lot of plans and determination, too”.

(A.N., 32, divorced, head of a school support institution)

This interviewee’s situation was not unique, but it aligned with other discourses in the sample, such as that of M.S., computer scientist, aged 28 and single, who expressed herself on her choice not to marry, or G.B., with a PhD in chemistry and head of production in a factory, who also refuses to marry. G.B. views marriage as an obstacle to the possibility of having a personal and professional objective and following that goal through to its realization:

“What’s the point of getting married? I don’t really see the point. For me it is rather a hindrance, an occupation for women without a plan for life, so they make it their goal. If I seek fulfillment, if I want to achieve things in my life, marriage is not the way to do it”.

(G.B., 30, single, factory production manager)

What could be deduced from these positions is that, for some women, divorce or remaining single contribute to the process of empowerment and the determination of a lifelong plan by making political citizenship an identity dimension that can inspire this project.

Charrad (2001) examines the role of divorce laws in shaping Maghrebi women’s access to rights and resources, arguing that legal reforms that make it easier for women to obtain divorces can have a significant impact on women’s empowerment. In some cases, political participation can stand for a personal project that can lead to self-accomplishment for divorced or single women (Muxel 2014).

The boundaries between public/private are blurred. Social sex relations no longer seem to take root socially in the old summa divisio between public and private spheres established by law. Space (domestic/exterior), roles, and plans no longer seem to reproduce the traditional patterns of distinction between the feminine and the masculine. It is therefore necessary to rethink public/private separation and the possibilities for gender relations to converge toward more de facto equality. Indeed, the industrial-era assignment of women to the private sphere and the roles reserved for them, such as housework, motherhood, and child rearing, are no longer in line with the post-industrial occupations and profiles of young women. These women may have other goals or plans and different perceptions of feminine and masculine, which sometimes entail categorical rejection of the institution of marriage and renunciation of the idea of family in favor of professional objectives or political careers.

About this, one interviewee explained:

“I have always been convinced that I could do something for my country. The experience of divorce and going home with my son—and you can guess all the stories that people imagined and told about me—that experience put me in front of a choice: Stay passive and go round and round in the circle of my problems, or take things in hand and set up a plan that allows me to break this circle and fulfill myself. And since then, I have been involved in political life. Sometimes I am asked if I do not intend to remarry: for me it is not a plan”.

(A.N., 32, divorced, director of a school support institution)

This change in personal perspectives, which are sometimes envisaged outside the family and domestic space, contributes to a repositioning of women in the political sphere.

However, it is important not to overlook the importance of temporality in establishing new participatory practices and electoral behavior. Indeed, the new electoral law, on the basis of which a little more than a hundred electoral lists—having not complied with the rule of parity—were eliminated, is not tangential to Tunisian society. On the contrary, it responds to demands and mobilization from civil society in particular, and is part of a continuum of gains for women’s rights in Tunisia. The entrenchment of this electoral law over the long term will thus make it possible to root it in a tradition, or even a new social habitus.

The effects of the new electoral gender parity law are intended to induce change, and as such they certainly provoke resistance. One of the objectives of this study is, with Izdebski’s (1988) conceptualization of law as a social contract in mind, to examine the latent forms of this resistance and to delineate its subtextual levels. The discourse of several women candidates in municipal elections evokes experiences where gender mechanisms intervene. Some were attacked on details relating to their private lives, as one of the candidates disclosed:

“At a meeting, one of the [other] candidates told me: “You want to win the election when you couldn’t even succeed at marriage? If you were a good person, your husband wouldn’t have dumped you!”

(A.N., 32, divorced, head of a school support institution)

Two other candidates denounce similar practices, including being trolled on social networks and encountering defamatory content posted about details of their private lives. For these interviewees, facing these mechanisms of bias required stronger intra-female solidarity against partisan loyalties and affiliations:

“There is a lot of rivalry between candidates, when we really need to support women regardless of their political parties or affiliations. We are all from the same city, we are her children and we want to serve her”.

(E.N., 34, divorced, computer science graduate)

Analysis of the barriers to women’s participation in elections leads us to think about non-participation and the prevented engagement of some women in public and political life, while remaining attentive to the shifts and iterations between these two ends of the political engagement spectrum.

4.2. Non-Participants Are Not Apolitical: Pathways and Cycles of Engagement and Participation

The women of the focus group that I identified by following the circle of relationships of the interviewees all argued that “politics meant nothing to them” at the beginning of the exchanges. As the discussion progressed, it became apparent that this supposed lack of interest in politics at the present time was in fact a statement against the current political scene as they perceived it. Earlier, I identified interest in politics as a primary form of participation. The phase of disinterest corresponds to the period before the revolution. Tunisia’s Arab Spring represented a pivotal moment in the relationship of these women to politics.

4.2.1. Interest in Politics: The Roles of Traditional Media and Social Media Networks

The Tunisian revolution can be considered an impending event (Leclerc-Olive 1997), which is to say that it represents a turning point but at the same time it causes a new beginning and a starting point. This is the beginning of interest in politics, which now presents itself as an ordinary occupation within the reach of ordinary citizens. Participants cited the 14 January 2011 revolution in Tunisia as the trigger for their interest in politics:

“Before the revolution, I had nothing to do with politics, even the elections meant nothing to me. I never participated in elections before the revolution.

(B.A., 49, married, homemaker)

For me, it’s the same story, at first I was happy [about the revolution] like everyone else. I started watching TV and watching what’s going on, but it didn’t last. Politics is a Chinese puzzle”.

(B.K., 48, married, homemaker)

This new interest resulted in a great deal of attention being paid to national and local news, television debates, and anything published and shared on social media in connection with political current affairs. The participants said they had been very motivated and enthusiastic during the first parliamentary and presidential elections in 2014. However, this move toward active citizenship was hampered by “a series of disappointments” and dissatisfaction with politics (Carrel and Neveu 2014).

4.2.2. Disappointment and the Time of the Pseudo Turning Point

With expectations unmet and social demands left unanswered in the eight governments (at the time of this writing) that have succeeded each other since the revolution, many Tunisians have fallen into despair and disappointment: feelings that participants in the focus group expressed as a “distaste for politics”.

“At first I liked to follow the political news, but when I saw all these disputes on TV, I was disgusted. I completely tuned out.”.

(A.M., 24, single, unemployed)

Participating in demonstrations and uprisings, which at first conveyed expectations of positive change, have morphed into a mode of existence—and a daily one for some—that is negatively charged. “Daily”, as for some, protests and upheavals have become a way of life and a regular occurrence, while others have sought shelter in apathy and dropout. However, more and more Tunisians have taken refuge in disinterest and disengagement. Politics acquires the representation of a real battlefield where interests far removed from social aspirations are fought over: a representation amplified and constantly reinforced by the media.

During the discussion, focus group participants highlighted the effects of televised “disputes” between “those who are supposed to represent the political elite”.

“[I’m] tired of politicians killing each other in plain sight—a bunch of selfish people competing for power”.

(A.M., 24, single, unemployed)

For many women, interest in politics has given way to demotivation. These women, as shown in the focus group sample (in contrast to interview participants), generally had low educational attainment, and were unemployed, underemployed, or engaged in the informal economy. Their interest in and commitment to public life remained hampered by their quest to provide for the basic needs of their families and by the difficulties they encountered in understanding public affairs and the impact of politics on their day-to-day lives.

“We have seen all these governments and all these policies. The state of the country is only deteriorating. I was told twice to go and vote: I did, but it’s useless/It’s a waste of time”.

(S.D., 52, married, homemaker)

4.2.3. Municipal Elections and Electoral Parity Law: Ambivalent Representations

The new law on horizontal and vertical parity between women and men in the municipal elections has been a topic of discussion among many women in the political arena. Some women see it as a promising initiative to promote gender equality and women’s political participation, while others consider it meaningless. Asma Nouira (2022) emphasizes that the legislative elections of 2019 confirmed the continuation of weak political participation of women as candidates and voters. The principle of vertical parity did not contribute to supporting female participation, as participation rates decreased compared to 2011 and were even lower than those recorded in 2009, before the parity requirement was imposed. This indicates weak female representation, especially among party leaders of different ideologies. The study also pointed out the persistence of cultural and social barriers, which create a contradiction between women’s success at the professional level and their weak representation in the political arena, indicating the dominance of male values in the culture of political parties and political socialization, even within progressive parties.

In the post-revolutionary transitional context, the new electoral gender parity law and the proposed decentralization of power represented an “opportunity of choice” for some women who had expressed a renewal of their interest in politics. They saw municipal elections as an alternative, a power of proximity that could make some of the goals of local communities achievable.

“The reason I’m going to vote is that these are municipal elections, to improve the city/The results can be very visible, unlike other elections. And then I can’t go see Caid Essebsi or Youssef Chahed [the president and the prime minister], but ouled bledi (the people of my city)—I can go and talk to them”.

(N.D., 41, married, homemaker)

In this regard, the women interviewed noted some factors in favor of their political re-engagement, such as the “sincerity” of the candidates who encouraged them to participate by voting:

“I had made the decision not to vote anymore, but I think I will still vote at the municipal level, but only for Mrs. R.B. who came to see me. Frankly, she is a great lady, and I will vote just for her, because I trust her”.

(H.C., 45, married, seasonal seamstress)

The primary barriers to the participation of certain women in the elections seemed to be disinformation and the false bipolarity of political parties, which reduced all the diversity of the national and regional political landscape to the level of the “Ennahdha vs. Nidaa” dyad:

“I was told to go and vote for Nidaa or [if I didn’t,] it’s like voting for Ennahdha. To me, neither of them is good. I don’t see the point of going to vote.”

(A.M., 24, single, unemployed)

However, these municipal elections, however promising they may be, remained insignificant for many women whose attitudes were marked by a total disinvestment in politics:

“Under no circumstances will I waste my time dealing with these stories, about who will win or lose. I don’t care. I dreamed like everyone at the beginning; now I am awake, I don’t dream anymore!”

(S.D., 52, married, homemaker)

This attitude is rooted in the growing divide between the aspirations embodied in the slogans of the revolution claiming “employment, freedom, and national dignity” and the achievement of those aspirations. In the discourse used by these women to recount their indifference and disinterest, they showed, on the contrary, an interest or at least a particular attention to politics. Indeed, their positions were decipherable by analyzing the influence of the topics recounted in their discourse: disagreements between parties and within certain parties, statements of politicians, and even the analyses of certain journalists and columnists they had read or listened to. Most of the criticism expressed by the focus group participants reveal dissatisfaction with the authorities and officials and a clear lack of interest in the elections, as these statements from various participants reveal:

“The reason I think we have to get involved is to change, to replace Ennahdha and Nidaa, because they have served nothing but their own interests. When they paved the road, they did it up to Mr. M.M.’s neighborhood. Why? Because his field is there!

But there are only holes everywhere. Come and see the road from the beach to Tazarka, you will find a huge chasm. It is the facade of the city, it is not acceptable!

I, in my neighborhood, am worse off. I have a blind aunt, she has fallen into the hole several times! It is gnawing at me, I feel very bad for her. I am not even talking about repairs—they are unable to cover the gap or do anything!

In fact, the situation is so catastrophic that it makes you feel sick […] Constructing buildings without permission, the corruption. We have seen the people who should be the servants of the people: they end up enslaving them! They cling to their posts and it is the citizens who work and serve them. There are also police officers who abuse their power, they take things for free from small merchants, butchers, vegetable merchants […] there are so many things that need to change”.

Indeed, the sensitivity to social injustices expressed in these remarks and this critical and dissenting spirit prove the existence of a degree of civil commitment that exceeds the level of individual personal interest in favor of that of the municipality or the nation as a whole. This indicates that what is presented as a break with politics is really only a form of conflictual relationship with it. Hence, the possibility of a manifest and assumed realignment.

4.3. Shifting Boundaries, Shifting Relationships

In their study of politics and vulnerable young women in Tunisia, Ben Salem and Ben Cheikh (2013) identified four types of relationship to politics. The first is disaffection, which is associated with an internal sense of either competence or incompetence. Disaffection manifests as indifference or apathy, and disaffected individuals avoid discussing politics. Second is self-exclusion, where the feeling of incompetence leads to self-denigration. Self-excluding individuals say things such as “I don’t understand anything about politics”. Perplexity is the third type, in which a person oscillates between the first type (disaffection) and the fourth type of relationship to politics (see Interest, below). The perplexity relationship is manifested as an occasional and rather weak interest in politics, such as during an election season. Interest: This last type is characterized by an internal sense of competence, and externally a strong sense of investment in political issues; it is based on a positive appreciation of women’s skills and abilities (Ben Salem and Ben Cheikh 2013, pp. 33–34).

The cases we encountered in the Tazarka investigation correspond to the first, third, and fourth types of relationship to politics: disaffection, perplexity, and interest. Women in the focus group, although they had a relatively low level of education and/or were not in the labor force (as opposed to interview respondents), were occasionally interested in politics but tended to rank it lower than other concerns.

“I am happy to follow the news and understand what is going on, but if I do not work, I do not eat. Politics will not feed my family; even those who promised to employ our children before the elections were impostors.

(B.K., 48, married, homemaker)

I personally participate in elections, especially when I am convinced, when the candidates deserve it. I want to participate and everything, but then I know that it will lead nowhere. I had better take care of my future, find a job”.

(R.S. 29, single, unemployed)

Analysis of the complexity of the motivations for and barriers to women’s political participation shows that such participation is best described as a cyclical process marked by punctual commitments and which can be hindered by internal and external factors or periods of hibernation. Such intervals, however, almost certainly do not signal an end to a woman’s interest in public affairs, but rather should be seen as a form of minimal participation.

5. Conclusions

The new electoral law in Tunisia granted women the right to equal participation in elections. However, the small number of women running for office and the tokenization of women on candidate lists highlight the persistent gender inequality in political participation. Relationships of trust and personal dependence, often influenced by patriarchal initiators, play a significant role in women’s decisions to participate in politics. These findings suggest the need for further efforts to promote gender equality and empower women to participate fully in political life.

On the other hand, this study sheds light on the crucial role of opinion leaders in shaping Tunisian women’s political opinions and decisions. The two-step flow of communication, in which mass media ideas flow to opinion leaders and then to the general population, mediates many women’s knowledge and learning about public affairs. Novice women candidates face discrimination regarding the right to speak and are often subject to the subjective presupposition of competence. This mechanism for reproducing inequalities highlights the need for further efforts to promote gender equality and empower women to participate fully in political life without facing discrimination or limitations based on their gender or political experience.

The study reveals also that discriminatory practices against women persist in politics and are displaced into the daily subtext of small group interactions. These practices are often disguised as “discursive incompetence” and violations of institutional rules, preventing women from participating in politics and targeting them at the beginning of the process. Additionally, age and gender intersect in power relations, with discrimination being cumulative for young people and women. The study also highlights the link between marital status and political experiences. The findings suggest that for some women, divorce or remaining single can contribute to their empowerment and determination of a lifelong plan. The traditional distinction between the public and private spheres is blurred, and women may reject the institution of marriage and prioritize their professional objectives or political careers. The study also highlights the importance of the new electoral gender parity law in inducing change, although it may provoke resistance. The barriers to women’s participation in politics require attention to the shifts and iterations between non-participation and prevented engagement. Overall, this study emphasizes the need to rethink public/private separation and converge toward more de facto equality.

This study explored also the relationship of Tunisian women to politics before and after the revolution of 2011. Initially, the women claimed disinterest in politics, but as the discussion progressed, it became clear that this disinterest was a statement against the current political scene. The revolution triggered an interest in politics among the participants, leading to an increase in attention paid to national and local news, television debates, and social media related to political affairs. However, a series of disappointments with politics and dissatisfaction with successive governments led to many Tunisians falling into despair and disengagement from politics. For many women in the study, interest in politics gave way to demotivation, which was exacerbated by their low educational attainment, unemployment, underemployment, or engagement in the informal economy.

In short, considering the impact of the new gender parity law on electoral “praxis” makes it possible to rethink the differences in timing and approach to the shared yet divergent experiences of political participation by women and men, and their repositioning in the social categories of sex. While the struggle to achieve this historic conquest has been long and arduous, this study has shown that the practice of voting and the political participation of women need to be part of the long term in order to formalize themselves as female habitus that, by gaining in territory, narrows the scope of discriminatory practices.