Day: October 5, 2012
Constitutions count. What does tech do?
Constitutions count. In a democratic society ruled by law, they distribute power among institutions and determine how it is gained and how it is lost. The process of preparing one after civil war or dictatorship is particularly fraught, as we are seeing in the recent Arab Spring revolutions. Society is divided, who truly represents “the people” is unclear, how those who draft the constitution are chosen is problematic, and power still grows out of the barrel of a gun. How does a constitution avoid capture by armed elites and gain popular legitimacy in these difficult situations? What role can and should the public play? How can technology best contribute?
A group of experts on constitution-making and on technology met last week in DC to discuss these issues at a roundtable co-hosted by Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies and Google Ideas. Some conclusions on constitution-making were clear: the process should be seen to be transparent, it has to fit the particular context in which it is occurring, and it has to create or demonstrate a broad, inclusive consensus around main issues. The ways in which technology can contribute are still the subject of experimentation. It can facilitate public participation by enabling substantive citizen inputs to the text of a constitution, improving transparency, enhancing civic education and expanding inclusiveness. The drafting of a constitution can also benefit from technology that makes the body of all past constitutions discoverable and searchable.
The constitution-making experts see the process as a complex one that includes not only public participation but also judicial engagement and external assistance in deliberating, drafting, adopting, promulgating and implementing a new constitutional order. The South African process is often viewed as the best example and imitated elsewhere, because public participation ensured the post-apartheid constitution’s legitimacy, even though there was little apparent impact on the constitutional text, which remained virtually unchanged. Even where public participation has had an impact on the text, it is rarely extensive. Historically, relatively few provisions have attracted intense public scrutiny.
Legitimacy also depends to an important extent on the transparency of the constitution-making process as well as public understanding of the outcome. A good constitutional process lays the foundation for good implementation and the creation of a culture of constitutionalism. This is particularly difficult to achieve if the constitution is the product of an international intervention, as in post-war Bosnia, Kosovo and Iraq. There international officials actually wrote the initial constitutions, with little consultation with local citizens. What the internationals consider “universal” principles do not necessarily translate well. It might have been better to adopt a transitional or provisional constitution, (as in Tunisia and Libya) that can be used until the local population is in a position to conduct its own constitution-making process.
When the time comes for a locally prepared constitution, the process needs to be transparent but still allow for elite deal-making and technical drafting behind closed doors. Not everything can be done in public, as some compromises will embarrass participants with their own constituencies. Expectations need to be managed. The public should not be led to believe it will have an impact on the drafting if in fact it will not, which happened in Iraq. Over-promising in post-conflict situations creates big difficulties. So too does drafting that is piecemeal or uncoordinated. The pieces of a constitution need to fit together, without leaving gaps and overlaps that will create problems later. It is also important to provide a suitable mechanism and threshold for amendments, which are difficult decisions in post-war situations.
Technology-based experiments conducted so far in connection with public participation in constitution-making processes include those in Iceland, Tunisia, Egypt and Somalia.
The recent Icelandic constitution-making process included weekly publication of drafts and an extensive dialogue on Facebook, Twitter and Youtube conducted by members of the drafting committee. This enabled direct interaction with interested members of the public, who were able to comment on a website as the draft evolved. Out of a national population of 300,000, there were 40,000 visitors to the site, 12,000 views on the YouTube channel and 3,600 comments.
In Egypt and Tunisia, Google supported the creation of web platforms that provided YouTube videos for voter education and enabled the general public to comment on all the individual articles of the constitutions. On the Egyptian site, articles could be sorted by how happy users were with them and how hotly debated they were (using Face book ‘likes’ and ‘comments’, respectively). This gave the drafters clear input and enabled the public to verify that their views were taken into account, but it allowed for little nuance. Egyptians have made upwards of 150,000 “inputs” to the constitutional process.
In Somalia, Voice of America (VOA) and Google Ideas partnered in a telephone survey conducted by professional Somali journalists skilled in asking questions and getting answers. Each survey’s results were discussed on daily political talk radio, with call-in listeners and even directly on-air with the Somali Prime Minister. This allowed people living in a precarious security environment to give their opinions while remaining anonymous. The polling reached over 3,000 people.
None of these experiments is definitive but some have already been transplanted from one context to another. All illustrate the potential of technology to open the constitution-making process and build legitimacy and trust in the public eye. But they tend to favor the technology-enabled part of the society, which may amplify the influence of some parts of society at the expense of others. They also favor individual contributions and may disadvantage some technology-poor civil society organizations. Direct democracy is not necessarily good democracy. Especially in post-conflict societies, there is the real possibility of illiberal results. We need to be careful not to harm the democratic process. Technology should enable constitution-making, not drive it.
There is also an important role for technology in supporting the drafting process. More than anything else, drafters want examples of how to deal with their problems. They often turn to the constitutions of countries that share their geography, culture or language, to find possible models and appropriate solutions, even sometimes copying typographical errors. No easily retrievable central repository of these documents currently exists. The Constitution Explorer project, run out of Stanford University and the University of Texas, aims to change that, by collecting and coding the world’s constitutions for the past two hundred years. This kind of toolbox is what those charged with drafting most need to avoid pitfalls and improve their own product.
This applies more broadly as well. There is no definitive solution to the problem of how technology can contribute to public participation in constitution-making. There is a growing variety of tools that may be appropriate—or not—in particular contexts. Where they work well, they can improve not only substantive input but also transparency, accountability and civic education, leading eventually to a democratic and constitutional culture.
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Ode to Jan Egeland
I guess this is funnier to those of us who know the charming Jan, but I hope others will enjoy it too:
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Arab women agree on problems, not solutions
Women have played important roles in the Arab awakening but they now face an uphill struggle to consolidate their gains.
During the first panel of this week’s Woodrow Wilson Center about “Women after the Arab Awakening,” participants discussed the problems facing women on the Middle East. Heads nodded and the audience, mostly women, groaned and laughed together. All cringed when speakers presented alarming legal and cultural setbacks for women and smiled or applauded for stories of courage or insightful comments about the status of women.
In the second panel, when the speakers were asked to identify a path forward, tensions flared. The audience tittered at provocative statements and the question and answer period turned into a heated argument. Underlying the tension, were important issues: the appropriate role of religion in government, the tension between Islam and feminism and the appropriate representation of minorities in democracies.
Dalia Ziada, one of Newsweek’s most influential women and CNN’s eight agents of change in the Arab World, sees politicians and political systems as only part of the problem. Culture is also responsible. Suzanne Mubarak advanced the status of women with the “khula” law giving women the right to divorce and other legislation allowing women to pass down their nationality. President Mubarak allocated 64 seats in the lower house of parliament to women. These legal successes did not result in meaningful improvement in status for women in Egypt because of culture. Most women who ran for office had connections to Suzanne Mubarak or other leaders and were often not considered competent.
Rihab Elhaj, co-founder of the New Libya Foundation, made a similar point. Eighty of the 200 seats in the Libyan parliament are allotted for political parties, which are required to include women alternately with men on their party lists. This helped women get 33 seats, but they have not yet taken on leadership roles because they are unconnected to leading male politicians.
In Tunisia, culture and social norms have also interfered with women achieving the status laws allow. Tunisia has a unique history of legislation promoting women’s rights. But when Omezzine Khelifa, a political party leader in Tunisia and adviser to the Minister of Tourism, proposed parity, many disagreed. Some thought it was not the time to deal with women’s issues. Others opposed a parity law because it suggests that women are incapable of getting into public office any other way. Parity in Tunisia passed, but as in Egypt it did not allow women to win 50% of the seats. Most political parties chose men to head their lists, so women won seats only if a party received enough votes to win multiple seats.
Fahmia Al Fotih, Yemeni journalist, also described cultural barriers. Several key women leaders during the revolution were subjected to harassment and even violence as a result of their participation in the protests. A barrier was erected to keep women and men separate, but some women chose to ignore the barrier in protest and were often beaten as a result. The National Consensus Government is composed of 35 members, of whom only three are women.
Not all problems in the Middle East can be attributed to patriarchal culture. There are real legal, physical and social barriers preventing women from reaching high positions. In Yemen, a humanitarian crisis has pushed political participation from many women’s minds as they struggle to feed their families. According to an Oxfam report this year, four out of five Yemeni women report that their lives have gotten worse in the past twelve months. Saudi blogger Hala Al Dosari recounted harassment by the Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice, a woman jailed for driving and a youth conference on the empowerment of civil society shut down at the last moment. Ziada expressed concern about possible Egyptian legislation allowing marriage at 14 and female genital mutilation. In Tunisia, Khelifa reported on the recent debate about whether women should be described as “complementary” or “equal” to men in the constitution. Al-Nahda’s draft of Article 28 to the constitution, which used the “complementary” wording, was defeated, but the debate will not be over until the constitution is finalized.
The second panel was intended to address what should be done to solve these problems. Syrian Honey Al-Sayed of Souriali Radio called for an effort to define equal roles for Syrian women now, before the revolution is over. Heads nodded in response, given that so many of the speakers had noted how optimistic they were about women’s rights during their revolutions and how things changed afterwards. Elhaj said that the change in Libya was not because of some Islamist scheme to remove women from the public sphere, but because of a natural reversion to the status of women prior to the revolution. Al-Sayed argued that Syria might be able to avoid this if there is a large-scale education campaign and civil society organizations are developed now.
Gabool Al-Mutawakel, Youth Leadership Development Foundation co-founder, made a similar argument for working to keep the spirit of the Yemeni revolution going, but she offered new insight: the problem facing women is the notion of “women’s issues.” She cited a female politician who preferred to talk about being a woman in politics rather than her policy ideas. Women will not succeed in Yemeni politics if the only areas about which they can speak with credibility are women’s issues. Women must not just represent women, but all of Yemen. Al-Mutawakel suggested we teach women about leadership, not just empowerment. We should also foster a culture of competition where women learn how to win and lose. Quotas can have the effect of killing a woman’s motivation to fight for a seat.
It was in this panel that tensions flared. Hanin Ghaddar, a Wilson Center Public Policy Scholar and editor of NOW News, saw an inherent contradiction between feminism and Islam and argued for separation of religion and state in Lebanon. The revolution taught her that small changes are no longer acceptable and that we need drastic, radical changes, which an Islamic government cannot offer. Yassmine ElSayed Hani, Wilson Center Visiting Arab Journalist, argued on the contrary that separation of religion and state is not realistic in Egypt. Sharia is a way of life that should not be reduced to the troubling laws in the Middle East that are supposedly based on it. About 80% of the Egyptian population is Muslim, so the government should reflect the majority of the population. Ghaddar argued in response that a democracy should protect the minority. Ziada suggested that Egypt may not need a religious government exactly because its population is so religious.
There is agreement about the problems women in the Middle East face, but disagreement on what to do about them.
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