Fortunes of Feminism (28 page)

Both conditions are necessary for participatory parity. Neither alone is sufficient. The first brings into focus concerns traditionally associated with the theory of distributive justice, especially concerns pertaining to the economic structure of society and to economically defined class differentials. The second brings into focus concerns recently highlighted in the philosophy of recognition, especially concerns pertaining to the status order of society and to culturally defined hierarchies of status. Yet neither condition is merely an epiphenomenal effect of the other. Rather, each has some relative independence. Thus, neither can be achieved wholly indirectly, via reforms addressed exclusively to the other. The result is a two-dimensional conception of justice that encompasses
both
redistribution and recognition, without reducing either one to the other.
⁴

This approach suits the conception of gender proposed earlier. By construing redistribution and recognition as two mutually irreducible dimensions of justice, it broadens the usual understanding of justice to encompass both the class and status aspects of gender subordination. By submitting both dimensions to the overarching norm of participatory parity, moreover, it supplies a single normative standard for assessing the justice of the gender order. Insofar as the economic structure of society denies women the resources they need for full participation in social life, it institutionalizes sexist maldistribution. Insofar, likewise, as the status order of society constitutes women as less than full partners in interaction, it institutionalizes sexist misrecognition. In either case, the result is a morally indefensible gender order.

Thus, the norm of participatory parity serves to identify—and condemn—gender injustice along two dimensions. But the standard also applies to other axes of social differentiation, including class, “race,” sexuality, ethnicity, nationality, and religion. Insofar as social arrangements impede parity of participation along any of these axes, whether via maldistribution or misrecognition, they violate the requirements of justice. The result, as we shall see shortly, is a normative standard that is capable of adjudicating some of the hardest political dilemmas feminists face today. These dilemmas arise at the intersection of multiple axes of subordination, when for example efforts to remedy the unjust treatment of a religious minority seem to conflict head-on with efforts to remedy sexism. In the following section of the present essay, I shall show how the principle of participatory parity serves to resolve such dilemmas.

First, however, let me clarify my use of the term “parity,” as it differs from recent French uses of that term. Four points of divergence are especially worth noting. First, in France
parité
designates a law mandating that women occupy half of all slots on electoral lists in campaigns for seats in legislative assemblies. There, accordingly, it means strict numerical equality in gender representation in electoral contests. For me, parity is not a matter of numbers. Rather, it is a qualitative condition, the condition of being a
peer
, of being on a
par
with others, of interacting with them on an equal footing. That condition is not guaranteed by mere numbers, as we know from former Communist countries, some of which came close to achieving parity in the French sense while remaining very far from achieving it in mine. To be sure, the severe under-representation of women in legislative assemblies and other formal political institutions usually signifies qualitative disparities of participation in social life. But numerical quotas are not necessarily or always the best solution. Thus, my conception deliberately leaves open (for democratic deliberation) the question of exactly what degree of representation or level of equality is necessary to ensure participatory parity.

The reason has to do with the second difference between my view of parity and the French one, a difference concerning scope. In France, the requirement of
parité
concerns one dimension of justice only, namely, the dimension of recognition. There, accordingly, it is apparently assumed that the chief obstacle to women's full participation in political life is an androcentric value hierarchy in the party structure and that the principal remedy is the constitutional requirement that women occupy half the slots on electoral lists. For me, in contrast, the requirement of participatory parity applies to both dimensions of social justice, hence to distribution as well as recognition. And I assume that the obstacle to parity can be (and often is) maldistribution as well as misrecognition. In the case of gender disparity in political representation, then, I assume that what is required is not only the deinstitutionalization of androcentric value hierarchies but also the restructuring of the division of labor to eliminate women's “double shift,” which constitutes a formidable distributive obstacle to their full participation in political life.

The third key difference is also a matter of scope, but in a different sense. In France,
parité
applies to one arena of interaction only: electoral campaigns for seats in legislative assemblies. For me, in contrast, parity applies throughout the whole of social life. Thus, justice requires parity of participation in a multiplicity of interaction arenas, including labor markets, sexual relations, family life, public spheres, and voluntary associations in civil society. In each arena, however, participation means something different. For example, participation in the labor market means something qualitatively different from participation in sexual relations or in civil society. In each arena, therefore, the meaning of parity must be tailored to the kind of participation at issue. No single formula, quantitative or otherwise, can suffice for every case. What precisely is required to achieve participatory parity depends in part on the nature of the social interaction in question.

The fourth key difference concerns scope in yet another sense. In France,
parité
applies to one axis of social differentiation only, namely, the axis of gender. Thus, the law does not mandate proportional representation of other categories of subordinated people, such as racial/ethnic or religious minorities. Nor apparently are its supporters concerned about its impact on such representation. For me, in contrast, justice requires participatory parity across all major axes of social differentiation—not only gender, but also “race,” ethnicity, sexuality, religion, and nationality.
⁵
And as I shall explain in the following section, this entails that proposed reforms be evaluated from multiple perspectives—hence that proponents must consider whether measures aimed at redressing one sort of disparity are likely to end up exacerbating another.
⁶

In general, then, my notion of justice as participatory parity is far broader than the French
parité.
Unlike the latter, it provides a normative standard for assessing the justice of
all
social arrangements along
two
dimensions and across
multiple
axes of social differentiation. As such, it represents a fitting counterpart to a conception of gender that encompasses not only the status-oriented dimension of recognition, but also the class-like dimension of distribution.

3. RETHINKING RECOGNITION: BEYOND

IDENTITY POLITICS

Now let us consider the implications of these conceptions for feminist politics, beginning with the politics of recognition. Usually, this is viewed as identity politics. From the standard perspective, what requires recognition is feminine gender identity. Misrecognition consists in the depreciation of such identity by a patriarchal culture and the consequent damage to women's sense of self. Redressing this harm requires engaging in a feminist politics of recognition. Such a politics aims to repair internal self-dislocation by contesting demeaning androcentric pictures of femininity. Women must reject such pictures in favor of new self-representations of their own making. Having refashioned their collective identity, moreover, they must display it publicly in order to gain the respect and esteem of the society-at-large. The result, when successful, is “recognition,” a positive relation to oneself. On the identity model, then, a feminist politics of recognition means identity politics.

Without doubt, this identity model contains some genuine insights concerning the psychological effects of sexism. Yet, as I have argued elsewhere, it is deficient on at least two major counts. First, it tends to reify femininity and to obscure crosscutting axes of subordination. As a result, it often recycles dominant gender stereotypes, while promoting separatism and political correctness. Second, the identity model treats sexist misrecognition as a freestanding cultural harm. As a result, it obscures the latter's links to sexist maldistribution, thereby impeding efforts to combat both aspects of sexism simultaneously.
⁷
For these reasons, feminists need an alternative approach.

The concepts of gender and justice proposed here imply an alternative feminist politics of recognition. From this perspective, recognition is a question of
social
status
. What requires recognition is not feminine identity but the status of women as full partners in social interaction. Misrecognition, accordingly, does not mean the depreciation and deformation of femininity. Rather, it means social subordination in the sense of being prevented from participating as a peer in social life. To redress the injustice requires a feminist politics of recognition, to be sure, but this does not mean identity politics. On the status model, rather, it means a politics aimed at overcoming subordination by establishing women as full members of society, capable of participating on a par with men.

Let me explain. The status approach requires examining institutionalized patterns of cultural value for their effects on the relative
standing
of women. If and when such patterns constitute women as
peers
, capable of participating on a par with men in social life, then we can speak of
reciprocal recognition
and
status equality
. When, in contrast, institutionalized patterns of cultural value constitute women as inferior, excluded, wholly other, or simply invisible, hence as less than full partners in social interaction, then we must speak of
sexist misrecognition
and
status subordination
. On the status model, therefore, sexist misrecognition is a social relation of subordination relayed through
institutionalized patterns of cultural value
. It occurs when social institutions regulate interaction according to androcentric parity-impeding norms. Examples include criminal laws that ignore marital rape, social-welfare programs that stigmatize single mothers as sexually irresponsible scroungers, and asylum policies that regard genital mutilation as a “cultural practice” like any other. In each of these cases, interaction is regulated by an androcentric pattern of cultural value. In each case, the result is to deny women the status of full partners in interaction, capable of participating on a par with men.

Viewed in terms of status, therefore, misrecognition constitutes a serious violation of justice. Wherever and however it occurs, a claim for recognition is in order. But note precisely what this means: aimed not at valorizing femininity, but rather at overcoming subordination, claims for recognition seek to establish women as full partners in social life, able to interact with men as peers. They aim, that is,
to deinstitutionalize androcentric patterns of value that impede gender parity and to replace them with patterns that foster it
.
⁸

In general, then, the status model makes possible a
non-identitarian
politics of recognition. Such a politics applies to gender, to be sure. But it also applies to other axes of subordination, including “race,” sexuality, ethnicity, nationality, and religion. As a result, it enables feminists to adjudicate cases in which claims for recognition posed along one axis of subordination run up against claims posed along another.

Of special interest to feminists are cases in which claims for the recognition of minority cultural practices seem to conflict with gender justice. In such cases, the principle of participatory parity must be applied twice. It must be applied, once, at the
intergroup
level, to assess the effects of institutionalized patterns of cultural value on the relative standing of minorities vis-à-vis majorities. Then, it must be applied again, at the
intragroup
level, to assess the internal effects of the minority practices for which recognition is being claimed. Taken together, these two levels constitute a double requirement. Claimants must show, first, that the institutionalization of majority cultural norms denies them participatory parity and, second, that the practices whose recognition they seek do not themselves deny participatory parity to others, as well as to some of their own members.

Consider the French controversy over the
foulard
. Here the issue is whether policies forbidding Muslim girls to wear headscarves in state schools constitute unjust treatment of a religious minority. In this case, those claiming recognition of the
foulard
must establish two points: they must show, first, that the ban on the scarf constitutes an unjust majority communitarianism, which denies educational parity to Muslim girls; and second, that an alternative policy permitting the
foulard
would not exacerbate female subordination—in Muslim communities or in society-at-large. The first point, concerning French majority communitarianism, can be established without difficulty, it seems, as no analogous prohibition bars the wearing of Christian crosses in state schools; thus, the current policy denies equal standing to Muslim citizens. The second point, concerning the non-exacerbation of female subordination, has proved controversial, in contrast, as some republicans have argued that the
foulard
is a marker of women's subordination and must therefore be denied state recognition. Disputing this interpretation, however, some multiculturalists have rejoined that the scarf's meaning is highly contested in French Muslim communities today, as are gender relations more generally; thus, instead of construing it as univocally patriarchal, which effectively accords male supremacists sole authority to interpret Islam, the state should treat the
foulard
as a symbol of Muslim identity in transition, one whose meaning is contested, as is French identity itself, as a result of transcultural interactions in a multicultural society. From this perspective, permitting the
foulard
in state schools could be a step toward, not away from, gender parity.