In a world where there are such chronic class and gendered inequalities, it is disappointing that socialist and feminist debates have been reduced to repeat discussions on a few yards of cloth - that is, the veil. Some publications choose to embellish the description by adding ’Islamic’ to the many variations of the headscarf. Therefore, often, it is called the Islamic veil, Islamic hejab, Islamic burka or chador. This enables a very hegemonic reading, although each version of the head-dress is in fact, very diverse and motivated and articulated very differently. Giving the head-dress an exclusive religious identity also renders invisible all the class dimensions that the scarf often carries with it, including in non-Muslim societies, such as in the cases where it is observed by Sikh, Hindu, Jewish and several African women.

The politicisation of the veil, its representation and interpretation, as well as the political opportunism demonstrated by states on this issue, reveals a deliberate rotation away from the central issues that create and sustain class and gendered inequalities. Ironically, the one thing feminist scholars used to write about, was the role of the veil in constructing gendered power relations and the class dimensions of the veil. Disappointingly, today we feminists are distracted from these primary feminist concerns as the base of our analyses. Instead, all the gains made by socialist feminists are pushed aside to make way for a new academic interest in the exclusive role and place of religions. Particularly after 9/11, the possibilities of Islamic feminism as a more appropriate replacement for framing Muslim women’s rights has taken precedence over what are alleged ’western’ notions of secular and socialist feminist schools of thought.

So the debate on the veil has been stolen away from feminists. It has been replaced and reclaimed by a new generation of religiously politicized women of colour and by white politicians. It is important to clarify, however, that this politics is not rooted in the impoverished countries of the South. Instead, the political controversy over the veil is a purely European debate today. But as history shows, such issues forge a relationship that connects the right wing in both, European, as well as, Muslim-majority countries. Often this is brokered and sustained by men on both sides. Left leaning sympathizers get caught in the middle - do they support a universal definition of human rights and secular principles where public spaces should be neutral and equal? Or does the Left uphold the rights of minority ethnic groups and the respect due to their particularist right to dress and live in accordance with their beliefs?

It is never a good sign when right-wing political parties start passing seemingly ’progressive’ policies and legislation. Clearly, the consciences of right-wing European governments have not been prompted by any feminist concern to prescribe the banning of the full veil or niqab from being worn in public spaces. The insistence of the French government, for example, that the veil is “an assault on women’s dignity” is a ridiculous assertion simply because today the veil is symbolic of so many contradictory things at the same time. This thinking mirrors the exact reverse political rationale given by some Muslim clergy who insist the removal of the veil is an assault on women’s dignity.

The banning of headscarves from schools as early as 2004, in some European countries, was a precursor to the impending French law that this year may ban the full veil in all public spaces. It is only natural for Muslims in Europe to read such legislation as anti-Islamic politics. However, because Muslim men in Europe themselves share so many of the same patriarchal impulses of white, non-Muslim men, it is mutually convenient for them to keep the debate of women’s rights trapped only within the symbolic tussle over the veil. If both were serious about women’s rights and dignity, the Muslim council would lobby for and French government would legislate, some form of affirmative action to enhance poor Muslim women’s specific economic and political rights.

There are other serious racially coloured legal traps that never gain media attention nor warrant political discussion. One such legislation is to do with a recent British law that raises the legal age of marriage up from 18 to 21 for any foreigner marrying a British subject and seeking visa to enter the UK . Ostensibly this ’progressive’ move, first proposed by the Conservative party, was to prevent the practice of forced marriages (a custom associated with British-Pakistani or Indian families) at a young age but also to reduce the chances of domestic violence and honour crimes. Apart from the fact that this is not a successful deterrent, the essentialist assumption is that abuse of women is higher when marriages are arranged or inter-familial as they are in cases of Muslim cultures. It also completely glosses over the very high vulnerability of teen pregnancies and single mothers within the UK who are often without choice, are victims of abuse and equally, stigmatized in society and employment. However, this social problem does not warrant a law that targets the victim in order to protect her. The assumption is that as a (white) British unwed, pregnant or married 16 year old for that matter, you are not as vulnerable as a foreign teenager marrying and moving to the UK . Consequentially, such politicised laws and bans which contain a subtext of racist or theological bias, meet with sharper and equally politicised resistance as a reaction.

The debate in France in particular, is not over whether the veil is a religious prerequisite or not - the Muslim council there, has in fact clarified that the face-covering variation of the veil has no place in Islamic ethos. So the Sarkozy government is treating it as a secular concern; one that tests the French republic’s values of egalite, fraternite and liberte. The only complication is that if it was prompted by liberal concerns then there is a need for introspection within these very same societies which changed their laws to accommodate other sub-cultures. This is especially true for those which were also originally perceived to impinge on and threaten predominant cultural norms. Indirectly, homosexuality is one example of changing norms. Not long ago, homosexuals were forced to disguise their identities and desires until admissibility was given legal and social respect by the state. Therefore, if cultures can stand the test of people wishing to live and express their differences of sexuality, why can’t the same tolerance and respect be extended for religious or ethnic differences?

The other dimensions of the place of religions in secular states that never gain attention are the imperatives of capitalism. Will the ban on the veil be followed by a ban on the sale of niqabs, then hejabs in Europe ? More relevantly, does the Halal industry deserve scrutiny because it also discourages assimilation and is also a sign of “a community closing in on itself and a rejection of [European] values”? The problematic here is that this would embroil the Jewish community and also capitalist venture. What will happen when Muslim sensibilities start reacting against capitalism’s rationale? If the market can be free, why can’t religious expression?

Is the right to wear any form of the veil, an assertion of religious freedom or a violation of secular republicanism? The struggle in France will help decide the place of constitutional freedoms and which takes precedence - the democratic right to express one’s religious/ ethnic identities or the insistence to retain the secular flavour of public spaces? The complication also lies in the specific nature of France’s republicanism which defines French-ness as one and envisions sameness. French secularism, known as laicite, is also considered unique in that it clearly purports to protect individuals and public spaces from religions.

The other complication is over the backlash of such moves by European governments in Muslim-majority countries around the world. The ban on the veil has opened the door for observing women to reclaim their so-called oppression and convert it into a tool of resistance and symbol of true faith which can stand the test of persecution. Resilience and breaking the law could create unlikely heroines and icons of Muslim faith in Europe . How will women in Muslim-majority countries, where there is no ambiguity that public spaces are male dominated and completely intolerant of expression of dress and women’s mobility, react to such defiance of the secular state?

There is no single interpretation that justly captures the motivation nor consciousness of the bearer of the veil. Therefore it is too simplistic to indict the veiled subject as oppressed or subjugated. It is therefore absurd for white powerful men to reassert their colonialist gaze onto the veiled Muslim woman and try and rescue her. It is as myopic a statement as that of many a conservative Muslim cleric who suggests that the veil elevates women to higher piety. More complicatedly, it is equally misplaced as the view of those apologist Muslim academics who, on the other side of the argument, romanticise that veiling is a sign of potential agency and ultimately, liberation of the Muslim woman.

In Muslim-majority countries the struggle against state imposition of the veil is a feminist concern. Even on an individual level, acknowledging that the veiling is very much a symbol and act that fits within a conservative and patriarchal mould, feminists in Pakistan have debated and lobbied against the coercive environment that compels women to observe it. On a more subtle level too, there is a debate between secular and Islamic feminists who argue over the limitations of interpreting the individual woman’s choice of donning the veil as an act of defiance or even her religiously inspired feminism. However, no secular feminist activist nor organisation has ever called upon the state to ban the veil in universities or public space in Pakistan . It can be argued that this would be a futile demand but my experience shows that the secular feminists of Pakistan believe in a contextual form of secularism - and not one that follows either the Turkish nor Indian model.

The irony of the veil debate cannot be lost on those of us living in Muslim-majority countries. In Pakistan , most women often observe the veil to make themselves invisible in public spaces, as a routine engrained, behavioural requirement and/or to avoid male overtures; in countries with Muslim minorities, including in Europe now, many Muslim women are observing the veil to assert their presence and mark their identities visibly in public spaces. To complicate matters, there is no fixed meaning to symbols and no fixed cultures and identities in the flux and ebb of globalisation. The final lesson on this is just one- in both contexts and either way, right-wing, male dominated politics is bad news for women everywhere.

Afiya Shehrbano Zia