Could Saudi Arabia become a home for women's rights?

Saudi Arabia is widely criticised for having some of the most restrictive laws on women in the world. It operates a system of male guardianship under which women are essentially reduced to the status of children, having to seek permission from a nominated guardian—their father, husband, brother or even son—in order to complete basic life functions such as travelling, opening a bank account or getting a job. The country was ranked 127 out of 136 in this year’s World Economic Forum’s gender gap index.

This dismal score, however, is a small improvement on previous years, and there have been some signs that the position of women in Saudi Arabia might—very slowly—be changing. In August, for example, the authorities criminalised domestic violence for the first time in the country’s history. According to Adam Coogle, Middle East researcher at Human Rights Watch, the legislation is “weak on the details of implementation but truly a step forward for Saudi Arabia.” It is the latest in a series of moves that indicate at least some desire for reform among those in power.

The labour ministry has been active in promoting the inclusion of women in the workplace and has even issued regulations allowing them to work in some sectors without permission from their guardian, a move that may be economically motivated; the country is grappling with high unemployment. These advances, however, have been accompanied by protests from conservatives and clerics, who recently threatened to pray that the labour minister gets cancer unless he reverses the decision.

In 2015, for the first time, women will be able to vote and run in the municipal elections without permission from their guardian. Municipal councils have little power but are the only form of government in Saudi Arabia that are even partly elected and the inclusion of women is hugely symbolic. Earlier this year, a trainee lawyer licence was granted to a woman for the first time and King Abdullah appointed 30 women to the previously all-male Shura Council—his formal advisory body—representing a fifth of the advisors. Some have recently recommended lifting the driving ban.

It isn’t clear how far these reforms will go. King Abdullah has shown himself to have some reformist intentions—he said when he came to power that he thought “the day will come when women drive” and he pardoned a woman in 2011 who was sentenced to 10 lashes for driving. But he is 89-years-old and it is not clear who will succeed him. Moreover, strong resistance from parts of the population may make it difficult for any Saudi leader to make major changes to the status of women. Coogle pointed out that “none of the reforms have really gotten at the heart of the male guardianship system... There is a reformist faction” among the authorities, he said, but “they know that they are going to face opposition so they push through these piecemeal reforms” that are often more symbolic than anything else.

Nonetheless, the women’s rights movement in Saudia Arabia is an encouraging example of what peaceful, grassroots campaigning can achieve. Even in such a repressive environment as this, advances have been made and support is being garnered among the population, media and authorities. Anecdotal evidence suggests that, in the run up to the October 26 driving campaign, activists were not just gathering support online but spreading the word through friends and neighbours. Pressure from the outside world is helping—allowing women to compete in the 2012 Olympics, for example, may have been motivated by concerns about the kingdom’s international image. The advances may be small and progress slow, but we should be heartened by what the women of Saudi Arabia are achieving through their organised and persistent campaigns.