Pathways to Politics for Women Parliamentarians in Myanmar

Abstract

The number of women parliamentarians in Myanmar increased during the last decade of democratization before the February 2021 coup d’état yet remained extremely low at about 15% of parliament in the 2020 election. This paper uses the concept of political pathway to explore barriers and opportunities that women parliamentarians experienced along their life course. It does so through in-depth interviews conducted in early 2020 with 20 women and 10 men parliamentarians elected in the 2015 general election. Results suggest that women tend to take distinct pathways from men and face specific opportunities and barriers through supply-driven factors such as parental socialization, experience of national crises, available peer networks, acquired professional experiences, and available family support, and through a main demand-driven factor in party recruitment and politics. This informs recommendations in the conclusion in terms of increasing resources and support available to women and addressing discrimination by political parties.

Introduction: women’s political representation in Myanmar

Women’s political representation remains extremely low in Asia, although women and men vote at a similar rate (Liu, 2020). In Southeast Asia, the percentage of women parliamentarians rarely breaks beyond a 20%–30% range. Myanmar, before the latest (2021) military coup, had one of the lowest rates of women parliamentarians in Asia. In the most recent general election in November 2020, the number increased slightly at just above 15% (Inter-Parliamentary Union, 2021). Other studies have examined women’s political participation and representation in Myanmar and have noted social norms that discourage women from being politically engaged, the difficulty of juggling reproductive, productive, and political activities, and biased political parties, including candidate selection (Choi, 2019; Latt et al., 2017; Minoletti, 2016; Tan et al., 2020). Interestingly, the percentages of women elected in both the 2015 and 2020 general elections (13.7% and 15.3%) were almost equivalent to the total percentages of women candidates running in those elections (13% in 2015 and 15.6% in 2020; Tun, 2020). The close number between the percentages of candidates and elected members of parliament (MPs) suggests that beyond potential electorate-related bias in voting, other supply-side and demand-side factors hinder women from becoming candidates. Exploring what causes this lower rate of women’s participation in politics is the subject of this paper.

Although there have been previous studies of women’s political participation or representation in Myanmar, to understand supply- and demand-side factors, we go beyond a cross-sectional approach and use the concept of pathways to examine, using life-histories from MPs, how both the social environment and political institutions may, along a lifetime, facilitate, or act as barriers to women’s political participation and representation in Myanmar. Although such life-histories have been used in other countries to understand politicians’ progress, social and gender norms in Myanmar, and the country’s ethnic diversity and specific political history, we believe, will generate pathways that are unique to this context. Moreover, a life-history approach, including early political socialization, has not been applied to our knowledge to a gender study of a large group of MPs in Myanmar, and therefore, it can help identify shared challenges and opportunities that influence women’s political representation in the country. Our aim is to contribute to ongoing discussions on women’s representation in politics, paying attention to fragile and emerging democracies and unstable political environments through a case study focused on Myanmar. On that note, it is clear that with the latest military coup in February 2021, any progress made with regards to political representation suffered a major setback. Yet the experience women acquired during the short period of democratic transition, which forms the basis for this research, will become particularly relevant if and when Myanmar returns to electoral politics, as the military asserted. Understanding why women are underrepresented is key to ensuring that development outcomes, especially improving indicators of inequality and discrimination against women (in the UNDP’s 2021 Gender Inequality Index Myanmar ranked 125 out of 191 countries), are associated with higher women’s political representation, suggesting as Bjarnegård (2020) noted that the politics of development cannot be separated from political development.

Understanding pathways: from demand-driven to supply-driven opportunities and barriers

Krook, borrowing from Norris, presented a sequential model of political recruitment from a larger group of people who are (1) eligible to run for political office, then (2) from those eligible, those who aspire, (3) from those who aspire, those who are nominated, and finally (4) from those who are nominated, those who are elected (Krook, 2010). Under perfect competition and nondiscriminatory conditions, each individual would have a fair chance of being nominated to a political party and therefore candidates would reflect the composition of members of society. The supply-side factors would mostly be determined by an individual’s aspiration to run for election, while demand-side factors would be based on an assessment of qualification and fit for nomination by political parties (group 3 of Krook’s categorization) and eventually a similar assessment by the electorate (group 4 of Krook’s categorization). The fact that women represent often less than 20% of parliaments around the world, or that MPs in India, for instance, are on average 1400 times richer than the average Indians (Rampal, 2019), clearly suggest that distortions exist at different steps of the political recruitment. There is no shortage of studies looking at barriers to political participation and representation based on a demand- and supply-side analysis. As Krook aptly argued however, many of these studies, often based on statistical analysis and on a “political market” approach to understanding women’s political participation, failed to explain the lack of an equilibrium solution between supply and demand (Krook, 2010). In her view, there is often a lack of gender analysis or recognition that ideologies of gender shape the supply of female candidates, including access to resources and level of political confidence and ambition. Integrating a gender analysis, we argue, requires an examination of norms and practices, the opportunities or challenges they present, that build specific pathways determining one’s political aspirations (determining supply) and level of demands from political parties. In terms of Myanmar, as noted above, some studies have looked at supply-side factors, particularly the role of social and gender norms (Latt et al., 2017; Minoletti, 2016), while few have looked at demand-side factors, especially the role of political parties (Tan et al., 2020). What is missing is an understanding of how barriers and opportunities add up, from early on in parliamentarians’ life up to them winning their legislative seat, to provide pathways for those few women who become parliamentarians.

The concept of pathways has been used in many fields, including politics, to understand whether there are common experiences, opportunities, or barriers that shape a particular endpoint (Choi, 2019). In terms of political participation, some studies using the concept of pathways focus more on supply-driven factors, women’s desire to engage, shaped by their social environment, their socialization and the support they receive from their families or peers (Gidengil et al., 2010). Some others focus on demand-driven institutional factors, especially the key role of gatekeepers played by political parties in shaping specific pathways (Kunovich & Paxton, 2005) as well as electorate preference (Black and Erickson, 2003; McElroy and Marsh, 2010). Such pathways are of particular importance for Myanmar with the long history of civil war shaping both ethnic and national identities and related political struggles in the country. Although an analysis of pathways could be useful for understanding how male and female MPs became successful, the more limited pathways options women have in politics suggest we need to grasp how women are socialized and able to “navigate” their own way (Choi, 2019).

Political socialization is an important supply-driven concept to understand political pathways, especially because political aspiration is often shown to be influenced by early socialization. Studies looking at the role of socialization on political pathways have examined early socialization, for instance, through parental influence (Dalton, 1982) or immigration (Humphries et al., 2013; Liu and Gastil, 2014). The concept of political socialization has often been used to understand how women’s political skills and competence are developed, often very early on through parents’ influence on political awareness and learning (Gidengil et al., 2010; Kelly and Boutilier, 1978). Some studies have shown that political socialization may influence how girls feel about politics in ways that discourage interest, often associating political knowledge with their father (Sigel, 1990) and political leaders with men, and in turn shaping their political knowledge, interest, and competence over time (Lawless and Fox, 2013; Owen and Dennis, 1988). Yet, conversely, in one key study of adolescents in China, Mexico, Japan, and the United States, although politics was seen as “a boys thing,” girls valued participation more than boys in three of the countries, and marginally more in Mexico (Mayer & Schmidt, 2004), suggesting that low participation in politics may not necessarily be reflective of interest or the value placed on political matters. Yet we know very little about political socialization in Myanmar (except for the role of the military in that process, see Kyaw, 2020), especially with regards to gender and women’s early political socialization through parents and peers.

For those who do show interest or willingness to participate, many studies have shown that support is key in translating this into real engagement, especially in contexts where women are expected to perform both productive and reproductive roles, giving them little available time for political activities (Thomas & Bittner, 2017). This is why families, and specifically partners or spouses, can have a great influence on whether women can participate. Similarly, peer networks can be an important source of support, providing political information, increasing awareness and competence of how to participate (Sinclair, 2012).

Demand-driven factors however can also be important along one’s pathway, both in terms of opening opportunities for participation but also in terms closing avenues for engagement. Political parties are particularly important in democratic regimes in determining who can participate (Tremblay, 2007). Parties can facilitate women’s participation through quotas or other forms of affirmative action policies, as well as developing political skills. However, parties can also be gatekeepers, slowing women’s path toward greater participation and power (Ryan, et al., 2010). Even when parties have shown a willingness to support women’s candidacy, often to meet party quotas, these actions are contradicted or undermined by ways women candidates are assigned unwinnable seats (Ryan et al., 2010). Beyond this role of gatekeeper, parties determine the political agenda and provide logistical as well as campaign support which can ensure success or failure. In Myanmar, Tan et al. (2020) noted how parties influence both the demand and supply of women candidates (from gender-related norms found in family life, unequal access to finance, or exposure to harassment) but that the selection procedures along with uneven party leadership representation present particular hurdles for women candidates. An examination of pathways, and the way women (and men) are socialized, can show how early events and experience determine specific opportunities (or barriers) for entry into politics.

The concept of pathways is often used to understand a trajectory, for instance what schools (i.e. Ivy League in the United States) or jobs are associated with a successful endpoint (i.e. being an elected MP). In the context of low-income countries, where education and job pathways are constrained, we suggest instead to look at pathways as being composed of specific opportunities, along with challenges, akin to a path with some road closures, forcing detours, and with speed bumps along the way. In the context of Myanmar, where the percentage of women political candidates in 2015 and 2020 reflects closely the percentage of elected MPs (15%–16%), we argue that we need to find answers for the low percentage of women MPs not primarily in electorate preference, but in specific experiences that facilitate or constrain pathways to political participation and party candidacy (including parties themselves). The aim is therefore to identify patterns, in the life experience of national members of parliament, of similarity and difference, and more specifically barriers women identify that may be different from male MPs, and opportunities that may also be more specific to women’s experience. Understanding these specific pathways, in the socio-historical context of Myanmar, can provide important lessons to eliminate barriers and expand opportunities to increase the number of women in the national parliament.

National context of Myanmar

Myanmar has been a signatory of CEDAW since 1997 and developed a National Strategic Plan for the Advancement of Women (2013–2022) by adopting 12 priority areas of the Beijing Platform for Action to promote women’s participation in decision-making within public and private life (Myanmar National Committee for Women’s Affairs, 2013). However, as noted above, it ranked 125 out of 191 countries on the Gender Inequality Index in 2021 (UNDP, 2022).

The percentage of women in parliament was 3.1% of all seats in the very first parliament of Myanmar after independence in 1948. However, it fell to 1% before the 1962 coup. Since then, the country was ruled by two military regimes till 2010. After a decade of democratic transition, the military retook power in a coup d’état in February 2021. Women’s political participation was very limited throughout the two long periods of military governments (Central Statistical Organization, 1997). The country changed into a quasi-democratic system based on the 2008 constitution where 25% of seats in every parliament were reserved for non-elected military personals. During the USDP-led government (2010–2014), the percentage of women members in parliament was 4.6% of all parliamentarians in 2013. Since 2010, Myanmar has witnessed a significant increase in women’s political participation, although the percentage of women parliamentarians remains limited (about 13% in 2015, and 15% in the 2020 election).

Among political parties, the National League for Democracy (NLD) had an above average proportion of women MPs; following the 2015 elections, 15.1% of NLD MPs across all parliaments were women, whereas this figure was on average only 6.5% for other parties and independents. The only party to have 10 MPs or more elected that had a higher level of female representation than NLD was the Shan National League of Democracy (SNLD) (16.7%). ¹ However, “gatekeeper” positions (e.g. Central Executive Committee member, Township Chairperson and Township Secretary) in Myanmar’s political parties are overwhelmingly filled by men (Tan et al., 2020).

Methodology

This paper draws from the qualitative arm of a larger mixed-method research project on women and political participation in Myanmar focusing on in-depth interviews with national-level parliamentarians. A total of 30 in-depth interviews were conducted (20 women and 10 men parliamentarians). Although women parliamentarians were the focus of our research, we included men for a comparative analysis of pathways as well as to assess their level of support or lack thereof for women in politics generally and for their female colleagues more specifically. The overall research design and mixed-method approach of the larger study guided our choice of the number of respondents to be interviewed at each level (i.e. local, state and, for this paper, national) which would be sufficient to provide rich data for in-depth analysis and comparison of political paths within and across. The list of parliamentarians was obtained from the legislature website. Respondents were purposively selected, prioritizing parliamentarians engaged in developing and influencing party policies as well as government legislations and policies. The selected MPs were contacted by the Myanmar research partners and officially requested for participation in the study. The research received an institutional ethics board approval from the home university of the lead author. In addition, official review and approval was also undertaken by the Myanmar government ethics panel. Official (government) review and approval of the study was a strategically important step for legitimacy and helped toward recruitment of top-level MPs in the study.

Data were collected between January and August 2020. Interviews followed a semi-structured protocol. The in-depth interview checklist was developed in a series of workshops involving the lead researchers and the interviewers and research group members. Through these workshops, the relevant conceptual themes and life history (life stages) were used as a guide to develop and finalize the interview protocol. Interviews were conducted by trained researchers in the Burmese language and were done either face to face in person or via video (following COVID restrictions and safety precautions). Interview times ranged between 45 minutes and 90 minutes. All interviews were transcribed and translated and then imported into NVivo and subsequently coded and analyzed thematically (Braun and Clarke, 2006; Clarke and Braun, 2017). Thematic analysis as a method is useful “. . . to identify patterns within and across data in relation to participants’ lived experience, views and perspectives, and behavior and practices” (Clarke and Braun, 2017: 297). We started with conceptual themes identified during questionnaire development, and additional codes and themes were added as they emerged from the data.

Results

Following a life-course chronology and a thematic analysis of interviews, this study identified both the supply- and demand-driven opportunities and barriers that influenced women’s participation in Myanmar: the supply-driven factors were (a) parental socialization, (b) major political events in life, (c) peer networks, (d) professional work experience, (e) family support; and the demand-driven factor was (f) the role of political parties.

Before discussing these findings, we present a particular political culture in Myanmar that emerged from our data, espousing a broad meaning of politics, influenced by General Aung San who shaped an inclusive environment for women and men in politics.

Meaning of politics

In response to a question about the meaning of politics, we found that MPs did not speak so much of politics as a legislative and electoral process (though some did), but more as a reflection of General Aung San’s speech ² on “What is Politics” as “Your everyday life,” that “It is how you eat, sleep, work and live.” One woman Kayin MP makes this point as “Cooking at home is also political. Religion is also political. Social work is also political. Only doing big things is not politics.” Another woman MP from Mon state highlighted how it is not about parties, “People think that politics is something to do with participation in parties. No, having meal and going out are politics. Basic needs of life are politics.” The same MP mentioned that her views of politics changed after becoming an MP:

I used to think politics is only about involvement in political movements. Only when I got involved, I then realize that politics is concerned with the everyday life ranging from kitchen issues (household chores), transportation, to the lack of water.

Men and women do not differ significantly in our sample on this question, which reflects perhaps the outsize importance General Aung San’s views have had to this day. However, it does offer an opportunity to define and frame politics as not only for insiders (traditionally men), but everyone else, supporting a view of politics where women are included, but also giving legitimacy to the non-political sphere or institutions, such as non-governmental organizations (NGOs), where women are often more represented.

The next sections will cover different phases or events in the MPs’ life course where aspirations were shaped and opportunities for political engagement presented themselves, while barriers also had to be overcome.

Parental socialization

Although families were important to the political socialization of both male and female MPs (especially through a male member, father/grandfather, who was politically informed or a politician), female MPs also note that their parents, especially their father, were supportive of their leadership, or of equality between boys and girls. One woman MP from Mandalay state notes “I think the reason why I became involved in politics was mainly due to my father . . . he also said that he wanted me to be a leader.” Another woman MP from Bago region added “My parents encouraged me to become a leader and not a follower . . . My parents treated all of their children equally.”

Many times, the importance of the father’s role is related to the father’s own political and community engagement and experience. A female MP from Chin state remarked:

My father told me [about politics] . . . my father was a teacher and the headmaster of the primary school, and he was also involved in the community affairs. He urged all his children to be involved as much as they can.

One MP from Mandalay sees her refusal to engage in corruption as a behavior passed down from her father:

My father is very honest and cannot tolerate corruption. And he has been a politician since our childhood and taught us to be honest and do the right thing. He also shared his experience of how he overcame difficulties in the past. These were the things I heard when I was young.

This focus on leadership is also highlighted by another female MP from Chin state who remarked that “My parents entrusted me with the authority to lead . . . my maternal grandfather is a living example for me when it comes to leadership.” Another MP from Bago highlighted the political learning passed down from her father: “My father had many political books because he was interested in it. I also read them. As my father was interested in politics, most of my siblings are also engaged in politics.”

Sometimes, the political learning may not have been intended, but a daughter could learn just from her family environment. One different MP from Bago recalled how important that was for her to understand the political world:

My father was a politician; so many people came to my house and discussed things with him. At that time, I was a child and listened to what they discussed. Their ideas and actions were like training to me.

Although the influence of fathers and grandfathers was a common refrain, there were also recollections of MPs being influenced by their family upbringing or by their mothers of grandmothers. One Kayin MP recalled that her grandmother was a community leader and another woman MP from Mon state remarked that the “political generation is from my mother side.” Another female MP from Sagaing said “I became interested in politics because of my mother who is very enthusiastic.” However, these tended to be few in our sample, probably because political positions are male dominated; however, they suggest other pathways, one where women may impart knowledge and interest, possibly changing parental socialization over time.

Considering there were fewer male MPs interviewed at the national level, the comparison is tentative. From the small sample men seem to draw less, or in more reserved terms, from their parents to explain their interest in politics. However, one male MP from Magway clearly stated that his father was the reason he started being interested in politics, but even that MP noted how his father did not encourage him, that he even tried to stop him from going into party politics.

For female MPs that recollection was particularly vivid, but notably it is not only because their fathers or grandfathers had experience but also that they were supportive if not encouraging of their daughters and granddaughters being politically engaged. This is important in our opinion because many people may have had male leaders or politicians in their family but in a context where women are often discouraged from engaging politically, having a supportive parent or grandparent, especially one who was politically experienced, seem to be a key attribute of pathways shared by female MPs. This finding is also important since the role of fathers in girls’ political socialization tend to be under studied. Much has been written about the role of model women can play for their daughters (Gidengil et al., 2010), but our findings suggest that, perhaps in a context of vast disparity in political engagement, men’s political experience combined with openness toward their daughter’s interest in politics should be explored.

National crises and uprisings

National political events were an entry point for many of the contemporary women leaders’ path to participation. The 1988 uprising in Myanmar, in particular, was a pivotal moment in the political conscientization, either through direct formal involvement or through informally witnessing events and/or family members’ involvement. The pattern was true for both men (“Involvement in 1988 uprising made my life turn around . . .,” a Kachin male MP said) and women but for women in particular these events served as catalyzing moments presenting opportunities, different from traditional women’s careers. As a woman MP from Bago said:

I firstly understood [politics] in 87-88 student’s life . . . In 87-88 period, I was not the leader, I was the follower. I listened to the speech that was conducted in the main university campus . . . We distributed the letters that they shared in the speech.

Similarly, a woman MP from Sagaing shared her sense of injustice under military rule:

I witnessed students being beaten and taken away in cars. When I arrived at Maw Lite, BBC broadcasted real news which was like a little light for us who were put in the dark. From that time, I got involved in politics. When I went back to the hostel after reopening of school, I joined the protests.

A few of the women MPs discussed how their beginning in politics were also closely tied to what they saw happening in their communities and ethnic groups (during 1988). A woman MP from Mon explained how she got involved both because of her family and due to a sense of duty toward her ethnic community:

When uprisings and civil unrest occurred in 1988, my father was a member of Mon National Party and our family was involved in party politics. I had to hold political talks for the community who did not know about politics. I did it for our race’s (sic) sake. I also encouraged women to participate in politics as most people in villages thought that only men could do politics.

Another woman MP from Mandalay who had been a lawyer noted the lack of fairness:

According to my experience in the (law) court, . . . in 1988 farmers were in trouble with the property law . . . Even murderers could escape from criminal charges if they had good evidence, but farmers could not. That is the main thing I wanted to change—I wanted to change this system which made farmers suffer as I also come from a farming background. So, I decided to get involved in party politics.

Generationally, for some of the younger women MPs, the Saffron (Golden) revolution of 2007 and election in 2012 and 2015 similarly opened opportunities for them to become involved in the political process. According to a Shan woman MP, it was the 2007 crisis that shaped her views regarding joining politics:

I did not participate in that crisis because I was teaching at that time. But I thought that if we cannot change the system, many people will die unnecessarily. And we will not get a good education we want. I have a strong will to change against the fears and suppressions and the 2007 crisis made me change.

In particular, the call for elections after the long suspension of democratic activities appealed to many women, especially those with strong community ties or social/professional networks from whom they got encouragement and support.

I have been working as a lawyer for 40 years. I was involved in the 1988 uprising. When NLD was founded in 1989, I participated in the party as a Township executive . . . I worked as a lawyer supporting activities in 2012 and helped poor people. I helped to canvass for votes for two representatives in the election . . . In 2015, I entered and competed in the election (Mon woman MP).

Political events and substantive shifts in the national political environment thus evidence unique political opportunities and a key push factor disrupting gendered political norms. They allow for lateral entry into formal political processes for those who may not have had opportunity to follow a traditional/established career path in politics and work up through the party cadre. The latter pattern of career association with party politics was more common among the male national politicians. Within the party structure, these shifts create both opportunities for entry but also glass ceilings and barriers (see later section on political parties) for women leaders.

Peer networks

Even though national events motivated women and raised their political awareness, few female MPs reported being leaders in youth political groups or school activities (despite participating in political events). In the cultural context where girls typically are more secluded in the house and expected to do more household work than boys, we can see a corresponding lower participation by them in youth political activities.

We girls are older among siblings, and we discussed more about politics compared with our younger brothers. But, when they grew older, younger brothers did politics by connecting with their friends. Some were even imprisoned for doing politics. During the uprising, they got involved in politics . . . Though I wanted to be involved like them, I could not do so as I was busy with household chores at that time (Bago woman MP).

Moreover, men report networks of friends from these groups, one man MP from Kachin notes:

When I was a high school student, I worked for community affair . . . Today, I meet with childhood friends who are now director generals, ministers and director general of the people’s police force [. . .]. They are my friends.

This lack of early fraternizing comparatively affects women MPs’ ability to network, including for occasions like informally going for drinks: “Sometimes the men gather and drink. As the women don’t drink, we are not in their bro list” says a woman Kayin MP. Another woman MP (Bago) notes how hard it is to network; “Even among networks, there are few networks which support women. Many are for men. Men can group and work together at night. They can go out anytime to release stress.”

Although student activism was curtailed during authoritarian spells social expectations regarding leadership and household obligations acted as additional barriers for women, shaping early distinct pathways for women and men, one where men could leverage experience and social ties when possible.

Work experience and professional careers

For a majority of the women parliamentarians an asset and also the opportunity for entry into formal electoral politics came via their professional careers. Most of the women interviewees were not career politicians and had had professional careers and experience as lawyers, doctors, teachers, and businesswomen before formally joining/holding party positions (post 2012). This also formed the foundation of their grassroots network and popularity which either brought them to the attention of the party or led to encouragement from their community to get involved. Quotes like this one from a Mon woman MP were commonplace, “I was originally acting as a leader in my township and have skills as a lawyer. People in my township also accept me, so I decide to run for election.” A Shan woman MP similarly expressed such community support:

I have actively led in community and social affairs, such as community-led activities—building roads/bridges before I became an MP . . . This helped me at the time of choosing hluttaw representatives and voting. People voted for me a lot for my abilities which they thought were better than just an administrator.

This trajectory was typically in contrast to the men parliamentarians who were more likely to have had a career primarily in party politics (including as political prisoners in some contexts):

I was involved actively with 88 university student leaders in 88 affairs; the grassroots movement for 88 was achieved. I have been interested since I was 16-17 years old. University student leaders provided guideline . . . I was jailed for 11 years for gathering young people (Chin man MP).

Furthermore, some women MPs discussed how the skills acquired in their professional (non-political) career served them in their political work such as this experience of a Kayin woman MP:

When I worked in an NGO, I was responsible for the budget. So when I work in the Public Account Committee, I am familiar with that. When I have to do budget analysis, I know which is surplus and which one lacks . . . I had to do public mobilization when I was in the NGO. So . . . I am familiar with these skills.

Another woman MP from Sagaing drew her political drive from her work as a doctor:

I observed, realized and explored the system of our country when I started working as an assistant doctor under the Department of Health . . . I became aware that this system should be changed. Although it is not my personal difficulty, common difficulties of people became mine . . . These things swayed me towards politics.

Paradoxically, while their professional experience outside of the formal political arena drove in part their motivation and political participation and provided expertise in doing their job as parliamentarians, this also constituted a form of barrier within the traditional political party context as discussed later.

Family and partner support

Although both men and women MPs often receive the support of their family, there are crucial differences. For men MPs, family and partner support is described as an added convenience, or as help in getting things done. In this narrative, men MPs report that their spouse supports them by cooking “she prepares meal for us (campaign),” as one Kachin man MP puts it, which also saves them time, as another one Kayin man MP argues “She helps me sometimes and also cooks for me. So, I have more time to read.” However, other men MPs report having no support or interest from their family, and this was not described as a challenge, but more as a statement of fact.

In contrast, women MPs make it clear that, for most of them, family and partner support is critical, that without it they would not be able to engage in politics: “We can do nothing if a husband says you should not do it” says one women MP from Chin state. Another woman MP from Sagaing echoes this: “All female MPs are working here with their families’ support. We could not do anything without family support.” Part of the dependence on family is explained by social expectations placed on women. Women are not able to enter politics without the help of other member of the family for reproductive and care work. One woman MP from Bago for instance remarked how she could no longer take care of her mother, hence why family support is important. She argues this does not apply to men:

The main thing is family support. If a man gets involved in politics, his family will support him well from behind. At the very least, his wife will cook for him. But for a woman, her husband may not support her.

Beyond more social or moral support, the family can be key to financial requirements in being politically engaged. The importance of financial support was mentioned by many women MPs: “(regarding obstacles) I think it is because of family and finance. There are bright women my friends, but they can’t get support from their families and since they are not breadwinners, there may be financial difficulties” said one Kayin MP. Another women MP from Sagaing actually linked both social/moral and financial support succinctly, but in clear order: “the first aid I need is financial support and the second one is human support.”

The level and depth of support is also very different. Men do report getting the support of their spouse but do not go into many details (“she supports me,” “she cooks,” they would say), but women MPs describe important details and seem to have particularly supportive partners and families; one Chin woman MP notes, “My husband! I often ask my husband for help when something happens. He is the candidate’s spokesperson.” Another MP from Mandalay adds “My husband and his relatives looked after my sons to let me focus on politics.” Another woman MP from Mon state said of her husband “He supports me. He quit his job because of me . . . He is now my driver. He drives me when I go out.” Another woman MP from Shan state reports her husband saying to her “I will take care of house and family affairs. Don’t worry about your mother. I also take responsibility for my daughter.”

These underline the importance of family support for women MPs. Men always get some support from their family and take it for granted. For women, family support is not automatic, yet it is a necessary junction in their political pathway.

Role of political parties

Political parties are an important support mechanism for women to grow in their formal political participation but also function as a deterrent and barrier for their advancement because of the patriarchal culture that is deeply rooted in the party operation. When women want to start a political career in the formal political institution as representative, they need to apply for a political party membership. Some women did get supportive attitudes from the party office, which made them feel encouraged. A Kayin MP explained how a senior member stepped in to pay the party application fee for her, allowing her to be a party member. She felt supported and welcomed by this party office—she deeply impressed by this senior member’s support and became a devoted party member.

However, there are more women respondents who expressed a negative experience in working within political parties. Although it was generally believed during data collection in 2020 that Aung San Suu Kyi prioritized women and youths (Kayah woman MP), the actual implementation on the ground was affected by gender norms in the area. The organizational culture of the political party was formed by the historical development of political parties in Myanmar. Because NLD has suffered under decades of military regime, they were not able to function as a political party for a long time. Many earlier members struggled in the jungle or were arrested. Such shared experience of struggle made the party members’ unity strong, but at the same time made them attach a high value on a display of loyalty and “experience”—experience in enduring the struggle throughout the difficult years. As Lwin reported, when Aung San Suu Kyi announced the candidates for the 2020 election on July 23, she emphasized that the candidates were chosen because of their “loyalty and experience”: “The road that the NLD has taken is very rough. It is long, unending. The harshness is not over. That is why we place so much emphasis on endurance and loyalty” (Lwin, 2020). Such focus on “loyalty and experience” punishes anyone who does not toe the line of the party or raises voices and criticizes the government (Lwin, 2020). Since women are in weaker positions in the party, they feel higher pressure to show loyalty to the party to be recognized.

We should note that the experience that is appreciated by the political party in Myanmar is not the professional experience but more how much potential candidates have struggled and suffered under past oppressions. Since there are much fewer women who were in the jungle or were arrested and jailed, it is more difficult for women to be treated as core members of the party, or they have to make additional efforts. Such emphasis on “loyalty and experience” disadvantages women and youths. This discrimination is also against experiences in civil society organizations where many women may have prior engagements, as one Bago woman MP noted:

We cannot win without the party’s support . . . NLD doesn’t have trust in CSO [civil society organization]. I feel bad about that as I come from CSO . . . I could do things more systematically although I cannot go to the jungle like men.

One Sagaing woman MP expressed her disappointment that the party did not consider her professional credentials and that women with professional backgrounds are seen as a threat to other men members.

When I filled up the form for candidate election, party members criticized me that I used my doctor title to replace their seats . . . I was downgraded from the role of a respectable doctor being welcomed to a candidate who had to run errands like folding mats and seats for events.

Since women are already in a disadvantaged position in terms of the display of “loyalty and experience,” they are more careful to demonstrate that they are toeing the party line, especially in the local offices than the central level. As a Shan woman MP said: “During the organizing trip, I dared not make a speech at the very first village as I was afraid to deviate from my party policy.” Her candidacy was opposed by other party members, although the central level wanted her to run. In order not to offend other party members, she was extra careful.

Such value running through the political party translates into gender discriminatory practices in the party. A typical experience is shown by a Sagaing woman MP who experienced maternity harassment:

One person who knows me well wrote on the internet “What are Hluttaw representatives doing in times of people’s need? Among representatives, one became the minister and one got married and pregnant [she was pregnant at that time].” I shed tears when I saw this post . . . Mothering a baby, which is seen as getting hitched and pregnant, also leads to discrimination.

Such practice of devaluing women is also reflected in the way women MPs and their work are treated. Women taking initiatives are seen in a negative light. As a Bago woman MP expressed below, women are not expected to talk. This Bago MP used to work in an NGO, where she did not experience such differences in treatment between genders:

We have to listen to them [men] while they don’t listen to us . . . They don’t like if we discuss. There are only few opportunities for cooperation between men and women. It’s not like that in NGOs. We all collaborate.

The devaluation of women within the political party works to secure positions for men MPs. An MP from Mandalay noted how men decide among themselves and take up the more visible and secure positions, while women are assigned to visit local areas and do field-level organizing. One Bago woman MP shared how men peers did not like her getting credit and excluded her from good and visible positions, and how she struggled for better recognition:

Men are keen to take issues related to the constitution [where they can be visible] while I took the topic related with the budget which nobody wants to take responsibility for.

This creates a vicious circle for women. They are assigned lower work that is less visible, but at the same time, they are given too much work so that they do not have enough time to visit their constituency (same Bago woman MP as above), which will further affect their chances of getting re-elected.

What we see is that the political party can break the pathways for women to advance in politics, while it is supposed to be supporting them. Women MPs are not from the rank and file of the party, but they come from professional backgrounds such as lawyers, doctors, and CSO leaders. Yet, although women’s professional experience is key to their interest and aspirations, it is not appreciated by political parties. Because of the history of political parties, they tend to value “loyalty and experience” rather than expertise. Such values work against women MPs. As a coping strategy, women might try to be more “loyal” by trying to toe strictly the party lines. However, that would not necessarily be for the benefit of their own constituency or women’s advancement as a whole.

Discussion

Myanmar’s political culture is shaped by General Aung San’s view of “Politics” as “Your everyday life.” We argue that this broader, more social view, one also that is less focused on public works, presents an opportunity for women MPs to draw from their personal and family experiences, as well as potential work done in civil society organizations.

Despite such a unique understanding of “politics,” the number of women MPs is still low. In contrast to other studies on the topic of women’s political representation, we explore the lack of such representation using a gender analysis of pathways that examine both barriers and opportunities through demand- and supply-driven factors behind interest and recruitment.

Supply-driven factors were many and substantial, suggesting that solutions to the lack of women’s representation need to go beyond change in political rules or institutions. Various national events and uprisings have encouraged both women and men to serve their country and take part in politics. However, the pathways to becoming parliamentarians were different for women and men. It is clear that the women we talked to found a successful pathway to politics, in large part because they found support in their young age from their parents and today from their partners and families that is not always available to women. Early political socialization, and especially its gender dimension, is not something that has been studied in the context of Myanmar, yet we found that parental socialization had a particularly outsized impact on women’s political interest and engagement later in life. Where the association of politics with men is often described as a reason girls are less interested in politics (Owen & Dennis, 1988; Sigel, 1990) or that girls are more interested when their mother is politically active (Gidengil et al., 2010), our findings suggest that what matters more is whether girls feel they have the support of their parents, especially their father. Later, financial support is particularly key to successful engagement and the lack of such support a barrier for many women in Myanmar who would depend more on their husband or relatives to support their political participation, as another study also noted (Tan et al., 2020). Where early socialization may encourage an initial interest in politics, support from their current family, especially their spouse is decisive for women in ways it never is for men. Moreover, a key finding of this study is that professional careers for women were a double-edged sword, being unrecognized by parties yet an important foundation for political competence. Women were also less plugged into peer networks, especially political ones that were key to men’s success.

In terms of demand-side barriers, many of the female MPs we interviewed viewed their parties as strict gatekeepers to their political advancement either because their expertise is not recognized, leadership positions remain closed to them, or they find that parties are unable to address other barriers such as family responsibilities, or restricted mobility. That political parties act as gatekeepers is a pattern identified by scholars such as Kunovich and Paxton (2005), but what seems unique in Myanmar is that one of the reasons women are disadvantaged is because political parties judge their “professional experience” as irrelevant or less important. Moreover, as Owen and Dennis (1988) noted, political knowledge and competence are important assets to be recognized as politicians, but political parties in Myanmar assess this competence based on personal struggles under the military regime, a finding that was not highlighted in the existing literature. As women, compared to men, have less combat experience in the jungle as well as experience in jail as political prisoners, they find it harder than men to be recognized by and in the party.

Our study is not without limitations. Given the methodological approach, our goal was not to produce generalizable results but rather to uncover experiences and patterns in a grounded context. Furthermore, given constraints of time and resources, the number of interviews was kept to a finite number for each level/location and focused more on depth with each interview rather than the breadth across more interviews. Data collection was conducted through the COVID period and added additional challenges of accessibility and timing of the fieldwork, especially due to varied constraints on mobility and availability of both interviewers and respondents. Despite these challenges with some adaptation and use of online tools, and so on, we were able to carry through with the overall design as originally planned.

Conclusion

We started the paper by claiming that we need to look beyond electorate-related bias to explain women’s low political representation. The use of pathways was revealing to understand women’s political representation and offer a more personal yet practical way to identify key barriers and opportunities, as mentioned above. The pathways we examined were difficult yet successful; therefore, our findings suggest that incentives to participate may be just as important to understand as obstacles. Early political exposure (through events and political socialization) and essential support from family (especially fathers) and partners were shared supply-driven factors. Political parties are key to women’s recruitment as candidates, and a main demand-driven factor, but the biases they present go beyond uneven numbers as respondents reveal how both their competence and experience in terms of political persecution are questioned by the parties, even if this form of discrimination is more indirect or implicit.

The findings of this paper have implications in ways children are socialized into politics (Gidengil et al., 2010), or ways women find relevant support, but also in terms of political parties, as a main institutional demand-driven factor (Kunovich and Paxton, 2005), having to recognize women’s specific needs and situation in order to, as one report puts it, “[Break] the Cycle of Gender Exclusion in Political Party Development” (Brechenmacher and Hubbard, 2020). Although parties in Myanmar claim to want more women candidates, for women MPs political parties are unavoidable but also a source of great challenges that put them at a disadvantage.

If indeed electorate-related bias cannot fully explain the lack of women in the political system, ensuring more inclusive demand- and supply-driven factors may contribute to narrowing the gap. Hence, promoting women’s political representation will require more than targets or even quotas, or generic commitment to gender equality, but also to address inequality in terms of resources, networking, and family commitments, and a real reform of political parties to break the cycle of gender exclusion.