Equal access for women in politics is crucial, but it is not enough to secure fair and just representation. It is as important to understand what happens when women are politically present. Two new books tackle exactly this challenge. In their book, Karen Celis and Sarah Childs combat what they call “the poverty of women's representation,” or women's poor political representation. They take us on a journey from classical scholarship on political representation and more recent work to their final destination: Feminist Democratic Representation. In Violence against Women in Politics, Mona Lena Krook scrutinizes what happens once women enter the political corridors, the different forms of violence they may experience, and how to stop this. In what follows, we offer a review of each book. In our concluding comments, we reflect on common threads and future questions and challenges.
FOCUS ON THE PROCESS, NOT THE OUTCOME
Feminist Democratic Representation opens with the following assertion: “Women cannot trust democracy to do good by us” (11). Indeed, women's rights can be taken away, as well as improved, by electoral politics. The question, then, is, who decides? Did increasing numbers of women in politics really improve the political representation of all women? Yes and no. Indeed, progress has been made. At the same time, countries around the globe face backsliding of democracy, and women are mispresented despite higher numbers of women (13). Celis and Childs ask, with what evidence and whose input are decisions currently made, including decisions on women's issues? Most people could probably agree that, currently, those who are best organized, most vocal, and most well resourced get to decide. Celis and Childs argue that politicians are rarely in a position to inform themselves of the diversity of women's issues and interests. This leaves the most marginalized groups easily invisible and their needs unmet. Women, just like men, do not speak with one voice. The authors take a practical approach, suggesting ways to ensure that everyone who is affected is involved in decision-making and that their opinions are publicly aired. Specifically, they propose the concept of the “affected representative”: these “representatives stand, and act, for differently affected groups of women when our political institutes address issues and interests that affect women” (43).
In their development of this concept of representation, we clearly see on whose shoulders the authors stand. Celis and Childs offer a thorough rereading of (what they call) first-generation feminist scholarship, as well as second-generation work (including their own). They show how far we have already come but highlight many structural problems that go beyond access. Reading the seminal works of Anne Phillips, Iris Marion Young, and Hanna Fenichel Pitkin in the context of this day and age, they conclude that political representation can best seen as a (post-Pitkin) “mélange”: indivisible, with overlapping and connected dimensions (42).
To ensure that the diversity of women's voices is heard, Celis and Childs posit that we should look at the organizational bases of our formal political life (19). They ask on page 31, what principles of design are best placed to bring into being women's good political representation? In other words, how can we offer improvements to the process, not the outcome? This is what they term “second-generation feminist design,” which emphasizes the diversity of perspectives.
With this aim, the authors propose augmentations to correct democratic processes. We cannot know the outcomes of such processes, but at least the process itself will be organized in such a way that decision makers hear a diversity of perspectives and have to explain, in return, which decisions they have taken. Central to these processes are the affected representatives of women. Celis and Childs further specify two institutional practices by which these and other representatives will improve women's representation: group advocacy, which is the inclusion of affected representatives of diverse women within institutions, and account giving, in which elected representatives provide explanations and justifications for the decisions they have taken.
A much-appreciated and broader contribution of the book centers on doing political science—that is to study politics and to use this scholarship to change politics for the better. Celis and Childs do so by actively intervening in the design of democracy. This is a much needed normative perspective from academics, and even though it may not be entirely new, it is refreshing to see it take such professional shape. They are not afraid to admit it: “for us, it is personal” (11).
What is the future for Feminist Democratic Representation? There is ample work for a third generation of feminist scholars. First and foremost, the proposed changes to the democratic process should be tested empirically. Next, more thought is needed on how to ensure that the voices of the most marginalized are heard. We should continuously ask ourselves: Who is seen and heard in politics (Emejulu and Mügge Reference Emejulu and Mügge2018) and its study (Mügge et al. Reference Mügge, Montoya, Emejulu and Laurel Weldon2018)? Whose feminism? Whose democracy? And whose representation?
SOLVING A PROBLEM WITH NO NAME
Mona Lena Kook takes up a “problem with no name” in Violence against Women in Politics. Krook writes a genealogy of the phenomenon, tracing its long history back decades and showing how it coincides with broader developments that overlap and coexist. In doing so, Krook reveals why this problem with no name remained out of sight for so long: among other reasons, because women normalize violence, remain quiet, and try to avoid scorn, or because adequate language has been missing. Her book aims to explain how women came to name the problem of violence against women in politics, and then goes on to develop a more robust version of the concept.
Violence, she argues, should not be the cost of doing politics. Especially when it is gender based, violence deters women's political participation as women, going against decades of fighting for women's representation in politics. Thus, as Krook argues, violence against women in politics is a distinct phenomenon and a specific form of violence trying to undermine women as political actors and to exclude women from public life. Again, women's access to politics is just not enough—now, we need to work on what happens when women get there.
An important contribution of this book is Krook's distinction between two types of violence in the political sphere. First, there is violence against politicians in general, targeting male and female politicians in gendered and nongendered ways. Second, there is violence against women in politics, directed at women specifically to drive them out of the political realm. The first is based rather on ideas, while the latter is based on the very presence of a specific group. Krook notes that these two forms can coexist, so that violence against women in politics may be based on both ideas and identity.
How can we recognize violence against women in politics? Krook introduces the bias event approach from a larger literature on hate crimes. Empirically, she identifies five types of violence against women in politics that seek to undermine women's political participation: physical, psychological, sexual, economic, and semiotic. Krook explains each at length, showing how they have manifested themselves and suggesting possible ways forward. For gender and politics scholars, semiotic violence may be of particular interest to explore in further research. This is a new form that Krook adds to other forms of violence that have already been explored (some more than others). This form of violence is also the most difficult to grasp empirically. Semiotic violence is aimed at rendering women invisible and incompetent through words and images: it “mobilizes sexist and degrading words and images to injure, discipline, and subjugate women. Distinct from the other types, it focuses on influencing how the public views politically active women as a group” (122). As such, it spreads a message of group-based inferiority.
The book is impressive in its depth and breadth. It develops more robust versions of concepts that can be taken up by third-generation feminist scholars, and it covers a wide range of countries, debates, and initiatives, as well as parallel and related trends in women's political experiences.
UPWARD AND ONWARD
In addition to the obviously high levels of interest for scholars and students of political science, these books will easily be taken up outside of academics by practitioners or journalists. Both books are accompanied by vignettes and drawings (Celis and Childs) as well as a companion website (Krook) that may help extend this reach. We also note an important and shared underlying purpose of these books: they do not just study politics but also aim to change it for the better. The authors are motivated both empirically and normatively.
At the same time, these books leave questions unanswered: what are the implications of intersectionality on both democratic processes as well as violence against women? Both books mention intersectionality, but they interact with it in limited ways. What is the role for political parties, which still dominate traditional politics? How should extraparliamentary actors, like social movements, be part of processes of change? And to what extent are the patterns found in both books applicable to other groups of citizens that do not self-identify with or fit the binary categories of “women” and “men”? Is it possible to go beyond the binary in second generation feminist research?
In conclusion, there remains ample space to rethink second generation work for a third generation of feminist scholars. Their challenge is to further develop a robust understanding of how we can ensure the inclusion of, indeed, all voices.
