Constructing SSLM: Insights from Struggles over Women's Rights in Nepal, Margaret Becker
In this article, Becker refers to “support structure for legal mobilization” (SSLM), a concept denoted by Charles Epp (1998) as the significant resources - such as advocacy groups, lawyers, and financing - needed to successfully undertake rights mobilization through the courts.
A concept related to SSLM is “legal opportunity structure,” which consists of features of a legal system, such as court rules, existing laws, judicial precedents, and potential alliances, that encourage or discourage rights litigation (see, e.g., Anderson 2006; Arrington 2021). Becker, however, goes beyond litigation, and, consequently, captures a wider range of legal mobilization that emerged as the women from two Nepalese organizations responded to and targeted different sources of power emanating from state and non-state normative orders.“Opening the Iron Gate”: Mobilising for the Rights of Widows
Lily Thapa - a highly educated, high-caste woman from a large, highly respected Kathmandu family - is a veteran of agitating for women’s rights in Nepal, having founded Women for Human Rights - Single Women Group (hereafter WHR) in 1994. WHR is primarily concerned with the issues and rights of widows in Nepal. Because of the stigma associated with the word “widow” WHR passed a national declaration in 2001 to use the term “single women” instead of the word “widow”. For Hindu women in particular, to be widowed is to face a social death, although the severity of the experience of widowhood is greater for high-caste women. Her status as a widow means that she is no longer regarded as a “good woman” by her family and community. A local moral order based on Hindu religious ideologies drawn from Brahmanical writings and teachings, the notion of the “good woman” refers to the ideal life path of women. In this life path, the woman’s roles are focused on the family and the most cherished characteristics are those that support the patriarchal family.
Marriage, particularly, is central to this ideal life path, as prolific Nepali academic and women’s activist Acharya notes: “marriage becomes the overwhelming factor determining all her life options. This [is] reinforced by all round social norms and legal structures, everything else is secondary to marriage”. Those women whose husbands die before them are thus seen as deviating from the ideal life path of the “good woman”. Indeed, a widow is regarded as an aberration, as someone with bad fate and bad luck and she is often blamed for her husband's death. Regarded as invisible, she is relegated to the margins of society where she typically faces discrimination, prejudice and abuse.
It was Lily's own experience of being widowed that was the impetus for WHR. Following the death of her husband in 1990, Lily's life changed dramatically as her status quickly shifted from respected married woman to widow, as someone to be treated with suspicion and disdain, as she highlighted during one of our conversations:
When my husband was alive everybody not dare to do anything to the wife. The dignity, respect and everything... I get that while my husband is alive, no? The second, the minute after my husband's death I would not get that auspiciousness, honour.
In 1992, two years after her husband's death, Lily initiated an informal weekly support group for widows in order to provide a space in which they could openly express their sorrows and difficulties. In the beginning, seven widows gathered to share their grievances and provide support for each other. The number gradually increased to up to 50 widows and in 1994 the group was formally registered as an NGO. Currently WHR is one of the largest women's NGOs in Nepal with more than 100,000 members. The organisation is far reaching with over 1,550 groups in 73 of the 75 districts of Nepal.
WHR's focus on the formal recognition of the rights of widows was apparent during my first meeting with Lily Thapa at the organisation's headquarters in Baluwatar - an affluent area of Kathmandu.
Lily talked at length about WHR's legal action in relation to expanding widows' rights, pointing to numerous human rights articles and instruments such as CEDAW and United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325. It was immediately clear that WHR was working within the global discourse of rights, and further, that Lily Thapa was highly conversant in the language of human rights, including the numerous human rights instruments. She noted the way in which “things appear to be good for women on paper - provisions are made however this is only on paper - in reality things are not like this. WHR tests these things in court”.As a result of the organisation's litigation efforts: (i) widows no longer require the consent of their adult sons and unmarried daughters to sell or hand over property ownership; (ii) widows do not need to reach the age of 35 to inherit their husbands' property; (iii) there is no longer government policy to award money to men who marry a widow; and (iv) widows no longer need permission from a male family member to obtain a passport. WHR's litigation record highlights the organisation's experience with the judiciary which, in turn, constitutes a key resource for the SSLM. Indeed, Epp has underscored the way in which the presence of “repeat players” - in terms of extensive experience with the court system - forms a key element in the SSLM needed to access and utilise the judiciary.
In order to engage in litigation, WHR draws on a range of resources including staff, legal advocates, far-reaching supporters and extensive networks. These form an important part of the support structure necessary for the organisation to pursue rights for widows through the judiciary. WHR employs 35 staff members, comprising 11 widows, 18 female staff members who are not widows (described by WHR as non-widows) and 6 male staff members - of whom many are highly educated. [...]
Critical to WHR's capacity to provide SSLMs to widows are the organisation's numerous and wide-ranging connections including “partners”, “contributors”, advocates and supporters - ranging from large international donor organisations and local Nepali businesses to both Nepali and foreign academics and women's rights advocates.
Indeed, the organisation is well funded, thereby providing it with the necessary economic resources to litigate [...] Here we see the importance of a proven funding track record to an NGO's financial resources, which in turn impacts on an organisation's capacity to litigate. As a “repeat player” in terms of both litigation and receiving financial backing, WHR has the capacity to provide the necessary SSLMs to pursue single women's rights causes through the courts.WHR is also well resourced in terms of the current global discourses on rights, including international law and the various human rights instruments and treaties, and Nepali law with respect to laws pertaining to women. Further, WHR's public acknowledgment of the government's ongoing support highlights the organisation's connections with the upper echelons and power brokers within Nepali society. Given that WHR has long been lobbying the government for change at the policy level - particularly in regard to legislation pertaining to the rights of widows - these connections are not surprising. Lily Thapa (email communication, June 2012) highlighted the importance of such connections, noting: “in our country where there are more influences from political party [sic], it will not be possible without mobilising them that's why we sensitise them a lot on issues”.
While WHR mobilises its doctrine of anti-discrimination and improved status of widows through litigation, it also employs a range of other strategies to support this legal action and to achieve changes in attitudes towards widows. These strategies include awareness campaigns through newspaper and magazine articles, books, pamphlets and newsletters, forums and focus group discussions. Since 2001 WHR has conducted national workshops
189 aimed at “institutionalising the concerns and issues of single women” through the narratives of widows from all regions of Nepal. Government officials and media representatives attend these events, thereby significantly increasing the visibility of WHR and the plight of widows in Nepal.
WHR also engages in capacity building programs, research studies on the status of widows, regional workshops, workshops relating to access to justice, and organisational development aimed at formulating strategies to identify future work and potential partners. WHR has hosted two international conferences aimed at developing agendas and forums in order to provide a platform for voicing the issues of widows based on international human rights instruments. At the conclusion of the 2010 conference, WHR promulgated its own advocacy tool, “The Kathmandu Declaration”, aimed at raising awareness at the government level about the needs of widows. [...]Women's Rights at the Local Level
The NGO that forms the focus of the next case study was a world away from the context of WHR, even though its head office was located only 20 minutes away by taxi. Sangam was relatively unknown within women's development NGO circles and in the wider sector of development in Nepal more generally - to which I had access through friends and acquaintances. Nevertheless, despite its obscurity, Sangam was also “doing development”, and successfully so. Yet this NGO operated at a markedly different level from that of WHR. As a volunteer organisation, Sangam worked at the ground level - in the community and social spaces where women live. Sangam focused on the health and nutrition of pregnant women, young children under 3 years of age, and their mothers through its nutrition program. Nevertheless, the “empowerment” of women was a key component of its Kathmandu-based nutrition program and it is this aspect that I will be focusing on. [...]
Within the nutrition program there was a range of different activities running across 11 wards in Kathmandu Metropolitan City, including growth monitoring, awareness programs (one targeting men specifically), volunteer training and savings groups, among others. For this discussion I draw on data collected during home visits, a key activity of the program that entailed Sangam staff members and volunteers visiting the home of a child that had been identified as underweight at a growth monitoring session.
Simply providing a family with information about food and nutrition did not always result in an increase in the weight of an undernourished child. Sangam recognised that there was typically a link between the weight of the child and the physical and emotional well-being of the main caregiver, which in most families involved with the NGO was the mother. Sangam described this as the psychosocial situation of a family. During home visits the NGO focused on “listening to women” to find out about the constraints and difficulties that prevented a mother from adequately caring for her child. Developing a trusting relationship with the mother was the central focus, as it was the first step in enabling the mother to open up and express her problems and concerns. It was found that once these difficulties were raised - and, ideally, addressed - by Sangam staff it would then be possible to facilitate the feeding and hygiene of the child. Thus, these visits were a key strategy aimed at empowering women. [...]Home visits were also a way in which Sangam disseminated rights discourse, although in terms that resonated with the mothers. “Rights talk”, in the sense of the overt, global notion of human rights that permeates the language used by WHR, did not feature in these interactions. [...] Rather, talk focused on the local level and the ways in which the situation (i.e. defending or enforcing a particular right) could be resolved using local informal mechanisms such as intra- and inter-family mediation or quasijudicial forums, which points to the emphasis on local forms of justice. In particular, Sangam strongly promoted the importance of women's citizenship rights during program activities and interactions with women in the community. Many women in Nepal do not have proof of citizenship and remain unaware of its importance and the implications for claiming rights, including access to education, formal sector employment, affordable healthcare, marital property and inheritance. Proof of citizenship is also fundamental to pursuing rights causes through the courts. Sangam staff provided information and practical support to enable women to obtain the necessary paperwork - including a birth certificate (often held by the woman's family in rural areas) and a bank account (by joining Sangam's savings group). Sangam also provided women with access to a female lawyer, which in Epp's terms constitutes one of the support structures necessary for legal engagement, but according to a Sangam staff member, women rarely (or possibly never) accessed this service for fear of the social consequences legal action might bring. As Meena's story below highlights, many women did not consider legal channels to be a tangible option.
Meena was a woman I encountered during home visits with Sangam. Meena's situation could have applied to any number of women living in this community - a middle to low socioeconomic area of inner Kathmandu. Women here appeared to have very limited life choices due to a lack of education and skills, often as a result of poverty and/or early marriage. This story brings to the fore the social and cultural constraints women confront in trying to realise their rights through legal frameworks. Meena was introduced
191 to me at her home as a woman experiencing many difficulties. While this was my first visit to her home with Sangam, Meena had long been interacting with the NGO staff. Meena was the second of three wives - all of whom were married to the same man. While polygamy is illegal in Nepal, it is still widely practised in both urban and rural areas. Meena had a young son with her husband while her husband's 22-year-old son from his first wife was also living with them. Life in the home had deteriorated badly, particularly for Meena. Her husband's son from the first wife regularly beat Meena, but her husband refused to intervene. On numerous occasions Sangam staff had spoken with the husband in an effort to improve the situation, but the husband believed that Meena was deserving of such beatings, describing her to one Sangam staff member as lazy around the house and slack because she did not regularly cook his food on time. Thus, Sangam's intervention at the familial level proved futile in improving Meena's situation.
On the day of our visit Meena was desperate to escape her increasingly difficult situation. Sangam staff talked with Meena about her options, suggesting that she should not tolerate violence. She could get a divorce, she could work outside the home, and now that the laws had changed she would be entitled to a share of her husband's property. Staff recommended a lawyer who would be able to assist Meena, but for Meena, divorce was out of the question. Meena's husband had already threatened that she would never receive anything, including any property, if she divorced him. When Meena had asserted that she had rights in relation to divorce and property, her husband had laughed, telling her that he had good connections within the community to support him and prevent Meena from receiving the property. Even though Meena could choose to engage in legal action against her husband in an effort to enforce her formal right to property, the wider implications prevented her from doing so. As the notion of the “good woman” highlights, a woman's status is in relation to men. Marriage, therefore, is extremely important to a woman's social and economic status. Divorce would mean that she was no longer a “good woman”, thereby bringing dishonour to her family and resulting in ostracisation from her family and stigma within the community. Asserting her rights and seeking property through the courts would have a similar effect. Engaging in legal action might also result in further violence and abuse. In addition, Meena was illiterate and lacked skills outside the home, which further limited her options. Without marriage and property, Meena would not have economic security or social standing, thereby rendering her vulnerable to other forms of discrimination.
Meena's story highlights the way in which women's rights in this context are relational - something that women themselves realise. Claiming one right may impact on other rights, in which case it may mean that seeking to enforce a particular right could be counterproductive, even dangerous. Here we see the tension between global rights and norms and beliefs in this context - between the “rights-bearing individual” and the notion of the “good woman”. Knowledge of their rights does not necessarily mean that women have the capacity - or the desire, particularly if their claim is in opposition to the norms to which they are subject - to assert those rights. Nevertheless, Meena's story exemplifies the symbolic power of legally enshrined rights - as something to aspire to and to call upon when conflict arises. For instance, you can work outside of the home, you have recourse in domestic violence situations, and you have the right to property and to seek divorce. Thus, justiciable legal frameworks do work at a certain level in this context, even if it is only at an aspirational level, thereby enhancing the effectiveness of promoting women's justice.