Playing with different cards: Party politics,gender quotas and women’s empowerment

Gendered norms defining access to resources and recognition

Among Catalan parties, the feminisation of party bodies brought about by strong or soft quotas coexists with a broad array of gendered norms that lead to an unequal access to resources and recognition. Gender quotas have not been coupled with rules establishing the definition of the valuable merits and skills to hold party or public offices or the tasks associated with these positions. These requisites do exist, though, at the informal level and build on socially constructed masculine behaviour and attitudes. Institutional beliefs about the male experience regarding authority, competitiveness, ambition and certain forms of rationality as the norm routinise the relationship between masculinity and power, thereby blurring it, while simultaneously creating several double binds for women.

First, focus group participants highlighted that party officers are expected to speak and behave assertively and to compete aggressively for party or public office (ICV, P7). This creates a double bind for women since they are trapped within gendered social beliefs that view speaking assertively or aggressiveness as inappropriate for them but, within parties, alternative ways of doing politics are despised as ‘weak, fragile and vulnerable’ (PSC, P9). As emphasised by women local party officers, ‘if you start a sentence with “I think” you are not granted credibility’ (ICV, P7), or ‘men peers suggest to you: “If you don’t give orders by thumping the table with your fist, you don’t show you’re in command”’ (PSC, P5, P8).

Consequently, as discussed in the focus groups, women’s self-confidence in their capacities is severely affected. ‘Fear’ (CDC, P2; ERC, P2), ‘constant insecurity’ (ERC, P3) and the ‘feeling of being out of place’ (ICV, P2, P7) are thought to constrain women’s agency. Many women admitted refraining from more active participation in party bodies out of not ‘meeting’ male standards and some of them even declared feeling alienated: ‘We don’t feel represented by these practices… We feel uncomfortable, so we step aside’ (ERC, P2). Yet, focus group participants reported that the aforementioned double bind also entails that those women showing political ambition or assertiveness are often despised due to the prevalent gender norm that regards these traits as positive when found in men but not in women (PSC, P5; ICV, P2). We will later on come back to the practical implications of this double bind.

Second, focus group participants highlighted that the prevailing conception of doing politics based on the full-time dedication norm leads to women’s frustration as they face the dilemma of having to choose between their personal and political lives. Underlying this painful choice is a ‘feeling of guilt’ for spending hours on party politics at the expense of family time, an experience, according to several women, unparalleled for most men (CDC, P1, P2; PSC, P7; ERC, P2). Party women thus confront the double bind of violating norms no matter what they choose: if long hours are put into party work, women violate social gender norms regarding care responsibilities; if they do not, women violate parties’ full-time dedication norm. Not meeting the adversarial and full-time dedication norms makes many women give up on demanding both more resources for the positions they hold and running for party or elective office, thereby giving up key assets to exerting power within parties.

Third, the use of ‘gender appropriateness’ criteria in the distribution of political responsibilities observed in parliaments (Franceschet et al., 2012: 238) also occurs in parties. Both high-level offices (vertical segregation) and the most valued portfolios within party executive bodies (horizontal segregation) are predominantly allotted to men. As one participant put it, ‘some party portfolios are de facto for men and others for women’ (ERC, P2). Especially after quota adoption, many positions are not competitive across gender: it is either two men or two women competing for them (ICV, P7). Although the group discussions downplayed the traditional value attached to the different portfolios – thus challenging male normativity – its practical implications for gendered power were clearly raised.

This not only entails an asymmetric disposition of resources (money, personnel or office accumulation), but ‘masculine’ portfolios (like organisation or finances) also have more visibility and influence and can be the springboard to other relevant positions. ‘Feminine’ portfolios (such as welfare policies or social movements) are less likely to have these qualities, especially the party portfolio devoted to gender equality, as participants noted (CDC, P2; ERC, P3). Indeed, while several male ministers had previously occupied similar responsibilities in the parties’ shadow cabinets, the successive leaders of the women’s sections have rarely occupied top offices in government and none of them have been assigned to gender equality cabinet portfolios. Therefore, the gendered distribution of party offices entails another double bind for women: the more they focus on women’s, thus substantively representing women, the less they obtain recognition and successful political careers and the more they face marginalisation and powerlessness, as found in parliamentary settings (Franceschet et al., 2012: 238).

Informal practices sustaining women’s subordination

Five main types of informal practices that prevent women from accessing an effective agency and, thus, sustain men’s power over women have been identified: gendered rituals in the daily operation of party bodies; super-surveillance of women’s performance; gendered informal sanctions; informal networking; and uses of time. As stated by one participant: ‘Men think we’re usurping the power they’ve long held, and this [sharing power with women] is an imposition (via gender quotas), it is not a voluntary act’ (PSC, P2).

First, several gendered rituals performed by men in party meetings are regarded by focus group participants as mainly aimed at ‘showing power off, because men are in need of external recognition’ (PSC, P9; also in ERC, P1). Rituals include, according to party women, participating regardless of not having substantive or non-repetitive points to make, and referencing previous contributions of male participants as a means to add legitimacy to one’s point, even if the author of the point was a woman and it was initially disregarded (ICV, P9; CDC, P7; PSC, P8). These rituals make the meetings unnecessarily much longer and ensure that men are conversationally dominant even in gender-balanced party bodies, as found in studies of legislative committees (Kathlene, 1994: 573).

Furthermore, women’s contributions are frequently glossed over and not recognised as valuable inputs by their male peers: ‘We’re not considered political agents…. I can’t believe parties still overlook the inputs of half the population’ (PSC, P2). Likewise, the tasks carried out by women party officers holding ‘feminine’ portfolios, especially gender equality portfolios, usually receive scarce attention in the meetings, making women feel that their responsibilities are basically redundant (ERC P4; CDC, P2; ICV, P7). Party women also complained that they often perform subordinate roles, such as taking the minutes and monitoring the implementation of decisions in-between meetings: ‘We do count for getting the work ahead, but it is difficult to be part of more relevant decisions’ (ERC, P3; also in ERC, P2; ICV, P3; CDC, P7). According to group participants, these rituals make women ‘feel tired and bored’ and may induce them to resign at higher rates than men (ICV, P6; also in PSC, P5).

Second, as found by Puwar (2004) in parliamentary arenas, women carry the ‘burden of doubt’ about their competency and are often subject to ‘super-surveillance’ (PSC, P8; CDC, P3). The following quote is very illustrative: ‘A man hesitates and he’s thought to be thinking; a woman hesitates and she’s lame’ (CDC, P8). The scrutiny of women’s capacity is perceived to be tougher after quota adoption. Women are frequently qualified as tokens (for being ‘quota women’) whereas men’s competency is not challenged (CDC, P2, P7; PSC, P2, P7; ERC, P2). On other occasions, to meet the quota provisions, women are assigned to areas that they are not experts in, aggravating their insecurities and exposing them to more criticism (ERC, P4).

Third, as observed by Kenny (2013) in her study of candidate selection processes, gendered informal sanctions are often imposed upon women who show political ambition or assertiveness. The most frequent sanctions these women suffer are removal from high-ranked offices or ‘a subtle weakening of their competencies’ (PSC, P5), which may also lead to women’s higher turnover. Whereas one participant noted that, ‘In my town, two men competed to head the party list. Eventually, one of them became the head of the list and the other occupied the second position’ (ICV, P7), another participant stated: ‘I competed to head the party list, and I lost. I was displaced to an unwinnable position’ (ICV, P2). Women who access high-level positions are also sometimes dishonoured with rumours about sexual favours to their male selector (ERC, P4; PSC, P4).

Fourth, women’s agency is hindered by a myriad of informal networks, an area where gender quotas cannot be enforced, that circumvent formal decision-making bodies. The unequal allocation of power in politics is largely entrenched in the asymmetrical density of informal networks among women and men (Bochel and Bochel, 2000). Indeed, informal networking is depicted as the paramount characteristic of the male way of doing politics. As noted by one participant: ‘When we claim that party structures are very masculine, we mean that decision-making very frequently takes place outside the formal channels – in bars, restaurants …’ (PSC, P2; also found in ICV, P7, P2, P4; ERC, P2, P4; CDC, P2, P7). It produces ‘homosocial capital’, an interpersonal capital that is ‘predominantly accessible for other men as well as more valuable when built between men’, as if women were ‘illegitimate members’ (Bjarnegård, 2013: 24, 28). As noted by one participant, ‘even if women share the table with men, many topics are never discussed, and if they do, we are not included at all in the conversation’ (PSC, P8).

Finally, time as a scarce resource for women was repeatedly emphasised as one of the major constraints on women’s effective participation and as key to understanding gender power relations (PSC, P6). Supply-side factors that limit women’s time availability (especially the unequal distribution of housework and caring responsibilities) interact with demand-side factors in the party organisation, such as the aforementioned full-time dedication norm. In particular, late-hour meetings and the time when informal networking usually takes place (late evenings, after the formal meeting has been held) are considered to sustain male power and, as such, these dynamics present a strong resistance to change. Party women in our study were also concerned with the excessive need for in-person meetings and too many surplus events to attend (PP, P1), while much of the work could be advanced through online communication (ERC, P2). Extremely demanding face-to-face interactions, along with meetings running too long due to the male rituals already examined, are experienced by women as ‘a complete loss of time’ (ICV, P9), which strongly demotivates their political engagement.

Generally, the empirical analysis suggests that parties’ ideology and commitment to equal gender representation do not explain women’s subordination since gendered informal norms and practices are found across the board. Yet, a feminist analysis of the effects of gendered institutions is only found among left-wing women and most liberal women. Conversely, most conservative women, while aware and critical of some of the examined informal practices – concretely, late-hour meetings and the excessive number of events to attend (PP, P1, P3, P4) – do not identify them as protecting male power, but rather as disadvantaging women with care responsibilities (PP, P3, P4, P5). PP party women also reject the gendered character of informal networking and instead regard it as ‘a pragmatic way of operation in any organisation’ (PP, P2, P4) that women may join ‘depending on the party officers leading the informal network or the issue at stake’ (PP, P2, P6). Last, in their assessment of potential biases in valuing merit, most PP participants agree that ‘If you provide a strong reaction when treated as a token, you are not marginalised’ (PP, P9, P8); that is, fighting marginalisation is considered to be possible through personal responses (PP, P1).

Individual agency

One means party women identify to challenge their subordination is to strengthen party decision-making bodies. Women stated that they refuse to participate in informal networks and follow the male rituals because these practices undermine the quality of democratic deliberation in formal arenas. Simultaneously, time constraints make women adopt a more pragmatic approach to political participation (CDC, P2; ERC, P1; ICV, P7). Party women commonly defined their political engagement as a ‘community duty’ or an ‘enriching personal experience for advancing policy goals’ to be performed for a limited period and only so far as it does not conflict too much with private life. As one participant noted, ‘women separate their political engagement from their personal life, whereas men’s perception of leadership and power is continuous across time and space’ (PSC, P5). Yet, the fact that most women keep ‘the exit door at hand’ (ERC, P1, P2; PP, P1, P2) partially explains men’s perpetuation in office: ‘women substitute for other women while men stay and accumulate more power and influence’ (CDC, P3; also in PSC, P1).

During group discussions, several women emphasised that an alternative approach to political engagement might be transformative for the quality of politics. One approach party women suggested is to include the realities of reproducing life on a daily basis and work-life balance into the political activities of both ‘normal’ women and men, so that the ways of doing politics can be transformed (ICV, P8; PP, P3). Another way suggested by party women is to manage time efficiently in their political participation: ‘I don’t need to have a three-course lunch and a bottle of wine with my colleague, we just meet and decide. We take into account time utility and don’t need to do all the “show”’ (PSC, P6; also in ERC, P4). This might be an empowering act since it questions the prevailing conception of politics as saturating all aspects of life and unmasks the ritualisation of predominant male practices, thus exposing power relations.

Another empowering device participants discussed is the ‘role model’ effect derived from women having reached the top of the party organisation. For example, seeing a young woman party spokesperson overcome her fears to speak in public ‘has made young women members feel they can also do it’ (ICV, P7). Another group highlighted the change generated by having a woman party leader: ‘If you need to leave a meeting because your child is ill, she knows what you are talking about’ (PP, P3). Women in high-ranking positions may thus act as symbols enlarging the array of accepted political repertoires, politicising unacknowledged norms and practices, and challenging the prevailing ‘logic of appropriateness’. This symbolic expansion is instrumental in women’s political inclusion, although women’s higher turnover rates limit the impact of the ‘role model’ effect.

Collective action

The extent to which gender quotas succeed as collective empowerment mechanisms was initially distorted, as reported by the leaders of the women’s sections, by the creation of new layers of decision-making not foreseen by party rules (i.e. smaller executive committees), which, as such, passed over parity criteria, and by the expansion of the number of members sitting in party bodies. With these strategic manoeuvres, power was not relocated in a more egalitarian way but ‘shifted away’ from women, as identified in studies of parliamentary settings (Hawkesworth, 2003). A practice still in place is using gender quotas to make two criteria coincide. Women often informally fulfil a double quota (gender and that of being independent candidates, migrants or young), allowing parties to project ‘an image of freshness – and even beauty’ (CDC, P7; also in PSC, P2; ICV, P10; PP, P3). While diversity is formally assured, these practices minimise the challenge to the in-group’s power as men remain in their positions.

Both interviewees and focus group participants claimed to have aimed at ‘letting the ladder down’ to other women when acting as selectors, as found elsewhere (Caul Kittilson, 2006: 157). Nonetheless, they did not attribute this action to gender consciousness but rather to the plurality of women’s networks. Getting more women in, though, is not easy. While men’s responses tend to be ‘I was waiting for your call!’ or ‘In what position am I listed?’ (ICV, P1), common answers among women are ‘I’m not prepared enough’ (PP, P8; PSC, P5), ‘I won’t be able to’ (ICV, P1; CDC, P2) or ‘What can my contribution be?’ (ERC, P3). Social ideologies about men’s and women’s skills may well limit women’s will to accept offices (Lawless and Fox, 2005), but they are reinforced, according to several group participants, by the aforementioned partisan gendered norms that define access to resources and recognition.

Party women have also sought to build coalitions of support to feminise their organisations. In left-wing parties, feminist activists won male leaders’ support in overcoming resistance to strong gender quotas, especially by male middle-level cadres, and in creating caucuses to discuss equality issues and plan actions. However, the leaders of the women’s sections usually combine party responsibilities with full-time jobs outside the party, thus limiting their ability to build a strong lobby, and they are normally appointed by the party leader, with the exception of ICV. In left-wing parties (PSC, ICV and ERC), women’s sections, joined exclusively by women, rank high in the party structure and their leader sits in the highest party bodies, including candidate selection committees, which allows them to supervise the effective implementation of gender quotas. ⁶ In these parties, the women’s sections have also crafted alliances with the women’s movement to advance common goals and lobby for equality policies.

Liberal and conservative parties present a different approach. CDC has a common section for all discriminated groups (women, disabled, gays, etc.) wherein participation is open to both men and women, which hardly equates to an intersectional coalition and might well contribute to diffuse women’s demands. In the PP, gender equality policies fall under a catch-all sectoral branch devoted to social issues. Although the existing collective arenas for women’s participation in left-wing parties seem to be more conducive to empowerment, both interviewees and focus-group participants noted that women’s collective action is rather deficient. Women members remain largely unaware of institutionalised gender discrimination and feminist discourses are seen with suspicion (ICV, P8; ERC, P4; PSC, P1). Moreover, women’s collective action faces strong hostility by men – and by some women too (ICV, P9). It is often regarded as annoying, whereas men’s complicity is never brought into question or considered political (PSC, P5; ICV, P5).

Left-wing focus group participants also deplored ‘men’s complacency with gender quotas’, which seems to preclude further action as if equality was by and large achieved (PSC, P5; also in ERC P4). For example, the internal equality plans developed by left-wing parties to modify the organisational dynamics constraining women’s participation are far from successful. ⁷ Although these plans have been effective in monitoring women’s presence across party levels and public institutions and addressed gender inequalities in parties’ communication policies, actions remain highly underdeveloped in some key areas, such as use of time: ‘Making men think of time differently would erode their power; precisely, they use late hours to keep power’ (PSC, P1; also in ERC, P2; ICV, P11).

Overall, irrespective of parties’ ideology and commitment to women’s representation, women seem to be deploying similar strategies to be individually empowered (power to). Yet, many of the strategies presented, such as alternative approaches to use of time, will only be truly empowering when mainstreamed in parties’ organisational culture, thereby displacing the practices that only suit the hegemonic male roles in both the public and private spheres. In regards to power with, despite the limitations of the collective arenas discussed earlier, left-wing women have advanced more than their liberal and conservative peers by creating stronger women’s sections and broader alliances within and outside the party organisation. Furthermore, higher representation in party bodies thanks to strong gender quotas has allowed left-wing party women to force their organisations to start revisiting their gendered daily operation – especially in PSC and ICV, the two parties with long-standing strong quotas, where the equality plans were endorsed by the respective national party bodies.