Former UN Special Rapporteur Radhika Coomaraswamy on Violence Against Women, Cultural Relativism, and the Power of Language

In studying for an upcoming exam in my International Human Rights course, and reviewing a chapter from Sally Engle Merry’s book (2006), Human Rights and Gender Violence: Translating International Law into Local Justice, I came across an account of the former (and first) special rapporteur on violence against women, Radhika Coomaraswamy, and her presentation of her annual report at the meeting of the High Commission on Human Rights in 2002. I think Merry’s account is quite relevant to our recent discussion of cultural relativism (a term Coomaraswamy uses directly), and how theories of feminism emerge in development discourse through the processes of defining human rights abuses against women. The choosing of language in crafting documents that define these abuses is a process and exercise of power. The report focused on what Coomaraswamy called a “sensitive topic”: “cultural practices in the family that are violent to women” (Merry, 2006, p. 62). Coomaraswamy (as cited in Merry) described the issue as one “that would define the international human rights debate over the next decade” (Merry, 2006, p. 62).

I have scanned the three pages of the chapter (“Creating Human Rights”, pp. 62-65) from Merry’s book for you to explore here, if you like.

These few pages from Merry’s book are a rich example of how the issues of cultural relativism and language have been, and continue to be, very relevant to the creation of human rights (specifically those of women) policy documents, and in that way, to the work of multiple development actors across the globe, as well as ‘Third World women’. Interestingly, the excerpt of Merry describes how Coomaraswamy “seeks to navigate between blaming culture and protecting cultural diversity” (Merry, 2006, p. 63). The example of this single report from Merry gives us a picture of a woman from the global South (Coomaraswamy, from Sri Lanka), who is in a position of power, is “naming” (McEwan, 2001) violence against women, and at the same time is arguing against ‘cultural relativism’ (p. 62).

The report argues that these cultural practices harmful to women’s human rights to bodily integrity and expression have avoided national and international scrutiny “because they are seen as cultural practices that deserve tolerance and respect.” “Cultural relativism,” she asserts, “ is often used as an excuse to permit inhumane and discriminatory practices against women in the community despite clear provisions in many human rights instruments,” (Merry, 2006, p.62)

The picture Merry gives of Coomaraswamy’s report is of a very careful attempt to select language that is both sensitive to its power, and also clearly critical and challenging of practices that harm women, including “female genital mutilation, honor killings, … witch hunting…, caste-based discrimination and violence, early and forced marriage, marital rape” (Merry, 2006, p. 62), and more. The report was met with strong objections, “particularly from South Asian countries” (Merry, 2003, p. 63). As Merry explains, the report “condemns cultural practices violent to women, not cultures as wholes, and included language supportive of cultural diversity” (Merry, 2006, p. 63). In discussions among country representatives at a meeting of the Commissioner for Human Rights, there was debate over Coomaraswamy’s critiques of “culture”, and her linking it explicitly to violence against women. In the end, the final text of the 2002 resolution on the violence against women describes “‘traditional or customary practices harmful to women and girls’ (para. 24), rather than ‘cultural practices harmful to women and girls’” (Merry, 2006, p. 64). 

Merry goes on to discuss the “politics of culture”, and the “position” of these phrases within it, noting that:

The phrase “traditional or customary” practices is positioned differently within the politics of culture than “cultural practices in the family.” The former, and older, phrase targets practices acceptable among those groups considered traditional in Africa and Asia – usually the uneducated, rural poor. The latter, newer one implies national practices. The older term allowed transnational elite activists to locate themselves within modernity and far away from tradition and its criticized practices. In contrast, the more encompassing label targets the entire country, not just its “backward” members. Instead of attacking culture in the sense of tradition, this criticism attacked culture in the sense of national identity. (Merry, 2006, p. 64)

This all gives us further insight into how political and powerful language is, not only in the field of human rights at large, including and especially those of women and girls, but also in its function of defining policy that seeks social justice. As Merry describes, the conversations still refer to concepts of 'tradition' and 'modernity'.

Something we have been reading about and discussing lately is how feminist theories of development are translated outside of the halls of academia into action on the ground. As Mohanty (2003) and others have suggested, the jargon of theory and the theoretical writing of academics is often esoteric and alienating to groups of women in the ‘Third World’ and global South who are working to change their lives, and the social/material/gender relations in their own communities. Mohanty (2003), Nagar (2002), and McEwan (2001) all point out that this is one of the major critiques of postcolonial feminist theory - that the language becomes exclusionary and un-useful to those about whom it speaks, a “preoccupation", as I believe Mohanty suggests. McEwan (2001) describes how postcolonial feminisms “seek to disrupt the power to name” (p. 100). I wonder, is the language of international human rights any different?

It seems as though it both is and it isn’t. On the one hand, it is still experts and intellectual elites who are defining the human rights issues which receive attention with and through language. But, on the other, this language in turn becomes a tool of empowerment which grassroots groups, NGOs, and individuals use to articulate rights abuses against women in multiple countries and contexts. The complexities of the task of identifying, naming, and defining human rights issues which relate to gender and women seem countless. Yet, certainly, to have women such as Coomaraswamy in the position to name may mean that systemic power imbalances shift ever so slightly.