Driving While Female – Explaining an Iconic Debate in KSA

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Term Paper: Driving While Female – Explaining an Iconic Debate in KSA

Date: 27.2.2023

 

 

Introduction

The average Westerner does not know much about the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia (KSA), and much of what he is sure he knows tends to be hearsay and Orientalist fantasy. Interestingly, one issue that caught widespread public attention in the West was the prohibition on women driving in the kingdom. Of all debatable prohibitions upon women in KSA, it was this one that garnered international attention.

 Why? This was not the most brutal intervention in women’s lives in the Saudi code of law. As we shall see, driving was not even officially illegal. It was not a matter of life and death, and would surveys have been conducted, one can wonder if Saudi women would have named it their most pressing problem in life.

One answer may be that this issue became iconic precisely because of its triviality. Westerners can understand prohibitions on alcohol or adultery but can’t imagine what could be wrong with a woman driving. It came to symbolize a culture that they deemed so repressive that it placed restrictions on women that were beyond comprehension.

In this paper, I will attempt to tell the tale of the prohibition on “Driving while Female” in KSA and make it comprehensible.  I will discuss some historical details of how driving became de facto prohibited in 1979, and the various battles waged for and against this prohibition since 1990, until the official legalization of driving on June 24, 2018. I will quote important commentators who tried to explain the underlying rationale and dynamics. To explain the issue properly, I will elaborate upon some foundational concepts of Saudi culture and society.

The narrative that will illustrate these theories is from a primary source I will engage, Daring to Drive (2017), the autobiographical memoirs of Manal Al-Sharif. A Saudi women’s rights activist, her campaign for women’s driving and subsequent incarceration were instrumental in bringing the driving prohibition into the global view and arouse a fierce internal debate in KSA that would ultimately lead to the lifting of the ban.

In my concluding remarks, I will raise some reflections on the meaning of this debate and its outcome.

Historical Overview

The rapid modernization of KSA began with the discovery of oil in 1938. The Saudi royals at the helm of this poor desert land renowned for its austere lifestyle, were suddenly blessed with a cash flow they never imagined. The global demand for oil rose steadily, and by the time of the dramatic price hikes of the oil embargo of 1973, Saudi leadership commanded a vast fortune.[1]

With this fortune a rentier state[2] was implemented. The government initially invested enormous sums in developing infrastructure that would allow a modern standard of living in KSA. Citizens were free from taxation in a non-democratic framework of “No taxation, no representation”. As oil revenue skyrocketed, they were handed out generous welfare benefits.

 The dramatic spike in living standards, consumption, and opportunities, lead many to a life of luxury. But it was not to be without adverse reactions from conservatives decrying their decadence. This era was known as the Tafra, (boom, affluence). A parallel religious awakening was going on in KSA, led by Muslim Brotherhood leaders, whom the state saw as offering proper Islamic guidance in this new modern world.[3] This trend was known as al Sahwa al-Islamiyya (the Islamic Awakening).[4] The budding of these deep religious sensibilities was on a theoretical crash course with the lifestyle of affluence. These can be viewed as representing two competing currents: The Sawha embodied a deep religious and/or conservative sensibility and the Tafra embodied a measure of openness (infitah) to the new possibilities of modern life, which would lead to a liberalization of a degree yet to be determined[5]. 

One dramatic reaction to modernity was the 1979 siege of the Grand Mosque of Mecca lead by Juhayman al-Otaybi and Muhammad al-Qahtani. These Salafi[6] radicals and their band of armed followers stood off in the holiest Mosque of KSA, alongside the Kaaba, for two weeks, before French special forces subdued them. This was not just a major embarrassment for the regime, official custodians of the holy sites. It was an earthquake of anarchy, a threat to the regime and domestic stability. Al-Otaybi was accusing Saudi leadership of decadence and un-Islamic behavior. Was it not threatening enough to their status as paradigmatic Sunni-Islamic rulers that Ayatollah Khomeini had just declared a Shiite theocracy in Iran?[7]

In consultation with religious leaders, the royals came up with a solution to this frightening religious radicalism. The way to gag the critics was to co-opt them by partial implementation of their demands. The political and economic future of KSA would remain firmly in royal control. But the religious establishment was to have a greater share in standardizing and policing of public morality. And the first people in need of moral guidance were women.

Beginning in 1980, new restrictions were imposed on women’s public visibility, and new social norms were established on mixing of sexes in public spaces (Ikhtilat). Among these restrictions was the proscription on women’s driving. This went hand in hand with the tight new guidelines on mandatory male guardianship (wisaya). Together these ensured that women’s access to public life was to be limited and supervised.[8]

Another dramatic reaction to the encroaching of modernity on KSA arose from the events of the Gulf War of 1990. To repel the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, large numbers of American soldiers swarmed to bases in KSA along with international reporters who roamed the country interviewing locals, lending Westerners a glimpse into their world. American soldiers remained in KSA after the war as the Saudi government sought to protect the kingdom from any future threat of invasion.[9]

This was too much for religious conservatives. They demanded the government make the foreigners leave their pure Islamic kingdom. The idea of Saudi collaboration with foreign armies clearly showed morality was in dire decline. They demanded legal reforms to set Islamic order back in place.[10]

Not everyone was against opening to the West. 47 women activists took advantage of the international press coverage and defied the prohibition on driving on 6 Nov. 1990. They were briefly imprisoned. Various actions of harassment (job loss, passport denial, etc.) persisted against them for years.[11] In 1991, future Grand Mufti, Abdul Aziz Bin Baz, issued a fatwa justifying the punishments these women received.[12] Protests did not gain traction and the trend was conservative.

Young women, usual candidates for protest movements, were quiet. Since the 1980’s reforms, the school curriculum taught that the new rules were the only way to be real Muslims. Maintaining restrictions on women was seen to be of paramount importance for maintaining Saudi exceptionalism (khususia). As Manal Al-Sharif points out in her memoirs, not only were youth not protesting, many, like herself, were on a mission to educate their parents on proper Islam[13].

The rolling back of the long list of restrictions on women came gradually and is yet to be completed. I will point out two important activists along this path:

In 2007, activist Wajiha Al-Huwaider submitted a petition to King Abdullah requesting him to lift the ban on driving. In 2008 she filmed herself driving, to agitate public opinion against the ban. While she failed, a poll conducted in 2007 showed a majority of Saudis supported lifting the ban[14].

The beginning of the end of the ban on women’s driving can be seen in the arrest of activist Manal Al-Sharif in 2011. Al-Sharif had opened a twitter account with the handle “Women2Drive”, announcing a mass event of women driving scheduled for June 7, 2011. The campaign went viral. In a viral video she filmed herself driving with Al-Huwaidar. At this point she was a public figure, and her arrest was covered across the globe. She was released weeks later after personal pardon by the King.

The mass driving event was cancelled, but in the sequence of events that unfolded it became clear that majority public opinion stood firmly behind lifting the ban. On Nov. 29, 2016, Prince Alwaleed bin Talal tweeted out: “Stop the debate. It’s time for women to drive”.[15] Al-Sharif was already a global women’s rights celebrity, and subsequent attempts to crack down on similar activists would not calm the storm. The ban on women driving was officially lifted on June 28, 2018. Women were allowed to drive without male accompaniment in 2019, although other legal aspects of male guardianship persist. In this sense, the anti-guardianship campaign of 2016-2017, “I am my own Guardian”, has gained a large following, but achieved only partial success[16].

The Conceptual Framework Behind the Driving Prohibition

The reasoning behind driving ban and other restrictions on women’s public visibility can be explained within competing conceptual frameworks categorized as cultural, Islamic, or political. Admitted, any of these can used as justification for restrictions on women, but scholars debate the primary vector.

The religious viewpoint prohibiting driving falls under the rubric of ikhtilat, the mixing of unrelated men and women in public. Contrary to khilwa, the mixing in closed spaces, which is clearly prohibited, the Islamic status of ikhtilat is moot. Al-Rasheed discusses how religious authorities conceptualized this term as the debate heated.

At the most conservative end of the spectrum, the rhetoric was inflammatory. Al-Barrak went as far as declaring anyone encouraging ikhtilat as murtad, apostates worthy of death. Equally novel was a suggestion to destroy mosques and rebuild them to include a separate section for women. These rulings were socially conservative, but highly novel, and few took them seriously.[17]

A politically provocative religious stance was taken by Al-Shithri. He openly criticized ikhtilat at the new flagship KAUST University and called out Prince Faisal, who not only brought his female deputy to a boy’s school but justified it religiously. Faisal was wrong in “playing mufti”, but he was also destroying the very foundation of KSA – the pact between the religious establishment of Ibn Abd al-Wahhab and the royal house of Ibn Saud. These accusations were so scandalous, Al-Stithri was fired from his TV show amid accusations of sedition and jihadist affiliations.[18]

Islamist female scholars also voiced opposition to ikhtilat. They declared it an immoral Western attack on sharia (Islamic law) and added that it was a path to sexual harassment and humiliation of women. It would only harm women’s chances in the job market. Saudi women would have better opportunities in a gender-segregated workforce.[19]

At the liberal end of the religious establishment, Al-Ghamdi declared ikhtilat as not strictly forbidden by sharia. KAUST University was a leap forward from ignorance to education, and the gender norms there were simply normal behavior, just like Hajj ceremonies in which men and women worshipped without separation since time immemorial. The critics were hypocrites, who practiced khilwa by employing female maids in their homes. These accusations infuriated conservatives, and even as legacy media favored him, al-Ghamdi was fired from his official position.[20]

Other religious scholars declared driving was not a religious issue but cultural. While refraining from explicitly demanding change, they stated that the public must learn to divide between haram (religious prohibition) and ayb (shameful by cultural norms). To them, the former was eternal and the latter negotiable.[21]They suggested norms may change with time, in an evolutionary societal change. Other scholars did not see a relevant distinction between the religion and societal norms. It was all Islam under a discourse of arf ijtimaiyya (societal custom) or concepts such as sadd al-dhara’i[22] (prohibition to avoid greater evil) and must not change.[23]

Many liberal minded commentators, such as Al-Khateeb, blame cultural norms, rather than Islam, for women status. These are feminist commentators have learned about Western women’s status, and sincerely believe that some of these norms should take root in KSA, even if most will not request the full Western “package” of sexual or familial norms. They decry tribal patriarchal culture and think Saudi identity would be better off without it.  Al Khateeb reports young women in KSA who now want different gender norms than those of their parents. They will demand their marriage have aspects of equally, joint decision making, intimate conversations, and other elements that traditional relationships did not accommodate. Regardless of their public stances, in their own lives, they want reform.[24]

The approach that understands “The Women Question” as a political issue is championed by Al-Rasheed. In this analysis women’s status is paramount in national identity, and therefore carefully regulated by public policy. Just as the liberation of women from Islam was a flagship issue of modern, secular national identity in Ataturk’s Turkish Republic, so too the Islamic purity of women is a flag flown high to proclaim Saudi national identity.[25] In this context, Wahhabiyya[26] became a state project of religious nationalism.[27] Women and their bodies are a source of fitna (chaos, strife), and their submission, a sign of proper order. Black abayas are a kind of uniform, labelling them Saudi, differentiating them from morally corrupt Western women.[28]The more religion receded in KSA, the more women had to be policed. (In terms of evolutionary theory, women were a “signal” of Islam, and with the growing need to show seriousness they were a “Zahavian Signal[29]” – the more restrictions, the more serious the signal.)

 Women are also weak and vulnerable, and in need of male protection. Modern KSA practices state patriarchy, in which the state protects women rather than tribal patriarchy. Powerful women, such as businesswoman Lubna al-Olayan, are tolerated and even showcased by the state as role models, since they are careful not to challenge state authority on the road to success, thus reaffirming the state’s role as guardian of women.[30] Therefore, it can be argued that state patriarchy can sometimes be more flexible and liberal than tribal patriarchy.

This flexibility is most evident in the reversal of directives after 9/11. King Abdullah enacted “state feminism”, in which the state was now protecting women from the conservatives and ensuring their rights.[31]This trend has intensified greatly under MBS and his Vision 2030. Women are promised greater liberty, but only under state guidance.[32] But Al-Rasheed sees no solution other than full agency for women, releasing them forever from their job as flags to be waved, conservative or liberal[33].

 

Manal Al-Sharif

In her autobiographical memoir, Daring to Drive (2017), Al-Sharif tells her life story, from childhood in conservative Mecca, to her rise to fame as a women’s rights activist. Her story embodies many of the abovementioned theoretical themes.

Her childhood was happy, even if in retrospect she views it as extremely restrictive. Restrictions became far more pronounced at puberty. She describes the directive she received of going into khidr (numbness), in essence, internal seclusion and absence from the public realm.[34]Manal was a talented student, and became was very religious, attempting to excel at religion. This meant enforcing strict observance on herself and on her family, at times through conflict. She states clearly that these norms were new in the 80’s. While her stances only became liberal after entering college (after her mother coerced her father to sign consent), at 9/11 she became aware of the dark side of Islamic extremism.[35]

Her full-fledged feminist convictions only developed after experiencing Western culture in USA. Upon returning, she believed Saudi law was not protecting her, but impeding on her liberty. She saw the prohibition on driving as rank hypocrisy. Beyond being restrictive to the point of dangerous, (e.g., women in medical emergencies), many paid drivers would mistreat women, and the notion of being escorted by a male stranger was anything but protective.[36] Notably, In USA she received a drivers’ license and learned about Rosa Parks[37].

The initial spark for the driving campaign came when a colleague pointed out that driving was illegal only by custom (urf) and not official law.[38] Emboldened, Manal began her campaign, receiving the blessing of her brother. The campaign became viral, but responses to the Youtube video of her driving were harsh (“Westernized”, “traitor”, “whore” etc.[39]).

The opening chapter of the book depicts Manal’s arrest. Saudi secret police knocked on her late at night, even as the law forbids arrest at these hours. Her lawyer assured her by phone they could not arrest her, but nonetheless arrested she was. Insisting she had not broken any law, and that she sincerely loved the king and would never rebel, were of no use, and Manal was locked up in harsh conditions. Eventually her father, from a noble family, petitioned the king, who granted Manal her freedom.

In all interviews Manal insisted she was a loyal Saudi, with no intention to attack Saudi royal authority. She was still a good Muslim, submitting to Allah and a Muslim king. But life became impossible for her in KSA as a world-renowned activist. Threats mounted, and by the time driving was permitted she had migrated to Australia.[40]

Manal exemplified many of the themes I discussed. She was not restricted by official law (she broke no law, and her arrest was illegal), nor religious authorities, but by culture, which saw itself as part and parcel of religious morality in battle with corrupt Western norms. Manal did not see Western norms see as incompatible with Islam.

She was acquitted by tradition – by king, by dint of her tribal lineage and repeated proclamations of loyalty. She initiated public discourse that had a vital role in lifting the driving ban, but the final authority rested with the government who only acted when it was clear Saudi society supported it. And yet after even as her cause was victorious, Manal could not live in KSA. It did not yet have room for an activist who consistently challenged societal norms. The book’s epilogue voices hope in MBS as a reformer[41].

 

Concluding Reflections

I want to reflect what the driving saga can tell about Saudi identity.

On one hand, many elements of society remain extremely conservative, culturally, and religiously. They lionize Wahhabiya and object to Manal’s struggle, possibility to the point of violence.

On the other hand, Manal won. Even before she captured public opinion, she had the support of her brother, legally, a male guardian. Her father had also been partially supportive throughout her life, assisting during university life. Tribal patriarchy is not universal today in KSA, and a young man like Manal’s brother took his support for feminism farther than his father. To paraphrase singer Sting in his song “Russians”: “The one thing that will save me and you, is if the Saudis love their daughters too.” If female roles are to change dramatically, it can only work with parallel changes in male roles. Who will formulate new concepts of Saudi masculinity?

On a deeper level, the tension between Western values and Islam has not been solved. Saudi feminists may see no contradiction, but they are usually not Islamic scholars capable of Islamic discourse. Among Islamic scholars, opinions are more reserved, as we have seen.

MBS has shown in Vision 2030 that he has chosen to abandon Wahhabiya as the signature identity of KSA. This may not solve the problem, even if reforms succeed. Abandoning one’s most sanctified beliefs is usually traumatic. In a nation of with many deep believers, who is to tell us what beliefs will replace Wahhabiya?

 And at the most fundamental level, some of the patriarchal norms can be attributed to the foundational theology of Islam itself. If proper relationships are formulated in terms of domination-submission (God-man, man-women, king-subject, Muslim-non-Muslim), what will it take for Saudi Islam to allow relationships based on equality, individualism, and free and open dialogue? What precedents can be invoked? What will remain of tradition after such changes?  Can there arise an authentic Islamic identity not ideologically opposed to the West?

Allahu a’alam.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bibliography

Primary Sources

Al-Sharif Manal, Daring to Drive, London, Simon & Schuster, (2017)

Gallup, 21 December 2007, Saudi Arabia: Majorities Support Women's Rights, https://news.gallup.com/poll/103441/saudi-arabia-majorities-support-womens-rights.aspx retrieved 20.2.2023.

  

Secondary Sources

Al-Khateeb, Salwa Abdel Hameed, Women, Family and the Discovery of Oil in Saudi Arabia, Marriage & Family Review, (1998), 27:1-2, 167-189

Al-Rasheed Madawi, A History of Saudi Arabia, New York, Cambridge University Press, (2007)

Al-Rasheed Madawi, A Most Masculine Kingdom, New York, Cambridge University Press, (2013)

Al-Rasheed Madawi, Caught between Religion and State: Women in Saudi Arabia. In B. Haykel, T. Hegghammer, & S. Lacroix (Eds.), Saudi Arabia in Transition: Insights on Social, Political, Economic and Religious Change (pp. 292-313). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, (2015).

Doaiji Nora, Saudi Women Online Activism: One year of I am my own Guardian Campaign, Washington D.C., Arab Gulf Institute, (2017).

 

Nora Jaber, at LSE Middle East Centre Blog, The New Saudi Personal Status Law: An Opportunity for Meaningful Gender Reform? 15.2.2021, https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/mec/2021/02/15/the-new-saudi-personal-status-law-an-opportunity-for-gender-reform/  retrieved 26.2.2023

 

Lacroix Stephane Understanding Stability and Dissent in the Kingdom The Double-Edged Role of the Jama‘at in Saudi Politics. In Haykel, Bernard, Thomas Hegghammer, and Stéphane Lacroix, eds. Saudi Arabia in Transition: Insights on Social, Political, Economic and Religious Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, (2015)

Penn, D.J. and Számadó, S. (2020), The Handicap Principle: how an erroneous hypothesis became a scientific principle. Biol Rev, 95: 267-290. 

 

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[1] Madawi Al-Rasheed, A History of Saudi Arabia, New York, Cambridge University Press, (2007), p. 130-133.

[2] Rentier State is a term in political science referring to a state whose revenue is based on rent, meaning revenue not originating from taxation but from ownership of resources. In these states the government is less dependent on public opinion, and therefore has less incentive to offer political representation to citizens. In KSA a rentier state was fully implemented in the 1970’s. The current attempts to wean Saudi economy off oil may lead to undoing the rentier state.

[3] This was also a direct attempt to counter Nasserism.

[4] Stephane Lacroix, Understanding Stability and Dissent in the Kingdom The Double-Edged Role of the Jama‘at in Saudi Politics. In Haykel, Bernard, Thomas Hegghammer, and Stéphane Lacroix, eds. Saudi Arabia in Transition: Insights on Social, Political, Economic and Religious Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, (2015), p. 169-170.

[5] Al-Rasheed, A History, p. 149.

[6] Salafi denotes followers of reform or revivalist Islamic movements known collectively as Salafiya. They attempt to emulate the ways of al-Salaf al-Salih, (the pious ancestors) denoting the founding generations of Islam, Muhammad and the first three generations of his Sahaba (companions). Salafi lifestyle is noted for a aspirating to restore a lifestyle of radical simplicity and rejection of modern novelties. 

[7]Al Rasheed, A History, p. 139-142.

[8] Ibid, p. 149.

[9]Ibid, p. 159-160

[10] Ibid p. 161-165

[11] Ibid, p. 161.

[12] Manal Al-Sharif, Daring to Drive, London, Simon & Schuster, (2017), p. 63.

[13] Ibid, p. 89.

[14] Gallup, 21 December 2007, Saudi Arabia: Majorities Support Women's Rights, https://news.gallup.com/poll/103441/saudi-arabia-majorities-support-womens-rights.aspx retrieved 202.2023

I will leave for others to debate the reliability of such polls.

[15] Al-Sharif, p. 282.

[16] See Nora Doaiji, Saudi Women Online Activism: One year of I am my own Guardian Campaign, Washington D.C., Arab Gulf Institute, (2017).

[17] Madawi Al-Rasheed, A Most Masculine Kingdom, New York, Cambridge University Press, (2013), p. 161-164.

[18] Ibid.

[19] Ibid, p. 162-163

[20] Ibid p. 164-165

[21] Other societies may dispute this and claim that religion can be changed more easily than deeply engrained cultural norms, but in KSA context I didn’t see this said.

[22] Madawi al-Rasheed, Caught between State and Religion: Women in Saudi Arabia, In Haykel, Bernard, Thomas Hegghammer, and Stéphane Lacroix, eds. Saudi Arabia in Transition: Insights on Social, Political, Economic and Religious Change. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, (2015), p. 308.

[23] Ibid p. 158-159

[24] Salwa Abdel Hameed Al-Khateeb, Women, Family and the Discovery of Oil in Saudi Arabia, Marriage & Family Review, (1998), 27:1-2, 167-189

[25] Al-Rasheed, A Most Masculine State, p. 4.

[26] The Saudi state brand of Salafi Islam originating with Ibn Mohammad Abd al-Wahhab (1703-1792) who forged a pact with Muhammad Ibn Saud, forefather of Saudi royalty.

[27] Al-Rasheed, Most Masculine State, p.16

[28] Ibid, p. 116-117.

[29] For an overview of Zahavian signaling see D.J. Penn, and S. Számadó, (2020), The Handicap Principle: how an erroneous hypothesis became a scientific principle. Biol Rev, 95: 267-290.

[30] Al-Rasheed, Caught Between, p. 305-307.

[31] Ibid, p. 21-22.

[32] For and example see: Nora Jaber, at LSE Middle East Centre Blog, The New Saudi Personal Status Law: An Opportunity for Meaningful Gender Reform? 15.2.2021, https://blogs.lse.ac.uk/mec/2021/02/15/the-new-saudi-personal-status-law-an-opportunity-for-gender-reform/  retrieved 26.2.2023

[33] Al-Rasheed, Caught Between, p. 313.

[34] Al-Sharif, p. 90.

[35] Ibid p. 89, 133-134

[36] Ibid p.9-10

[37] Ibid, p. 198, 202.

[38] Ibid p. 209.

[39] Ibid p. p. 215.

[40] Ibid, p.273, 288.

[41] Ibid p. 287.