Theoretical frameworks dominating the study of anti-gender politics both enable and constrain our understanding of the phenomenon. Susana Galán and Tutku Ayhan argue that the existing frameworks are not helpful for studying anti-gender politics in the Southwest Asia and North Africa (SWANA) region. Here, the authors explain why, suggesting alternatives
Research on anti-gender politics has grown exponentially since the mid-2010s, albeit in a regionally uneven fashion. A close review of the literature reveals an overrepresentation of studies focusing on the European continent, followed by the Americas. This scholarship has generated a rich conceptual and theoretical basis that has shaped subsequent engagements with the subject. To date, however, there remain comparatively few studies analysing other regions.
The SWANA (Southwest Asia and North Africa) region poses an interesting paradox: since the late 2010s, scholars have studied Türkiye as an example of anti-gender politics. However, few describe similar developments in other countries in the region as ‘anti-gender’. Those who have, moreover, have often pointed at the limitations of existing scholarly frameworks. We explain why this is the case, and propose alternative frameworks for studying anti-gender politics in Southwest Asia and North Africa.
The prominence of Türkiye in the anti-gender literature is not accidental. In the early 2000s, the newly elected Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi (AKP, Justice and Development Party) led an initial phase of EU-oriented liberalisation, followed by an authoritarian turn. Here, the government reversed progressive gender reforms and withdrew from the Istanbul Convention. These developments mirror transformations in Central and Eastern Europe that academics have studied through the lens of de-democratisation and democratic backsliding. It is therefore not surprising that scholars have found these frameworks useful to study the Turkish case.
Since the late 2010s, numerous scholars have analysed Türkiye’s bans on pride marches, restrictions on trans rights and proliferation of pro-family discourse through the 'backlash lens' developed in European and US scholarship. Importantly, however, Turkish scholarship has not merely imported these models wholesale. Instead, it has enriched them through locally grounded concepts like Deniz Kandiyoti’s 'masculinist restoration' and Alev Özkazanç’s 'gendered authoritarian populism'.
Turkish conceptual frameworks such as 'masculinist restoration' intersect with European anti-gender approaches, but remain inadequate to understand anti-gender politics in the region
These Turkish conceptual frameworks do not contradict European anti-gender approaches, but intersect with them. They foreground state restructuring, political masculinity and Islamist–nationalist governance. Despite this progressive vernacularisation, the existing frameworks remain inadequate to understand anti-gender politics in the region.
Analysing other SWANA countries through the lens of backlash and de-democratisation/democratic backsliding is not helpful. Underlying both phenomena is a particular temporal sequence – progress-reaction-reversal – that does not accurately reflect regional trajectories.
First, contemporary attacks on gender issues are not necessarily a reaction to prior gains. As Nay El Rahi and Fatima Antar show, in Lebanon it is not advances in gender equality that have triggered campaigns against LGBTQI+ rights and civil marriage. Instead, state and non-state actors regularly mobilise against these issues to divert public attention during periods of political and socio-economic crisis.
It might even be counterproductive to study the SWANA region through a backlash approach. According to Nour Almazidi, in the Gulf countries this lens validates anti-gender discourse which presents gender variance as a foreign imposition.
Contemporary attacks on gender issues are not necessarily a reaction to prior gains, just as advances in gender equality in the region are not the result of democratisation
Second, advances in gender equality in the region are not the result of democratisation. In Tunisia and Egypt, for example, the authoritarian Ben Ali and Mubarak regimes sponsored reforms to improve women’s status. In Saudi Arabia, the absolute monarchy of Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud lifted the ban on women driving. Yet these state commitments to gender equality did not translate into better conditions for feminist and LGBTQI+ movements. On the contrary, governments in the SWANA region have tended to co-opt feminist demands while repressing feminists. This is the case in Egypt in particular, which may explain the country's absence from anti-gender analyses.
Following the 2013 military coup, the regime of Abdel Fattah El-Sisi adopted several measures, ostensibly to support and protect Egyptian women. These included the criminalisation of sexual harassment and the adoption of The National Strategy for Combating Violence against Women. Alongside these reforms, the regime launched a sustained attack against feminist activism.
In particular, Case 173 targeted prominent organisations like Nazra for Feminist Studies and the Center for Women’s Legal Assistance. In parallel, the Egyptian police has increasingly cracked down on LGBTQI+ individuals and non-normative forms of gendered expression on social media platforms.
Despite the similarities with Türkiye, scholars have not examined Egypt's repressive actions through an anti-gender lens. Why? One key aspect is the lack of a clear correlation between El Sisi’s policies and the progress-reaction-reversal sequence. On paper, at least, the current regime has expanded, not restricted, women’s rights. Moreover, most reforms address women’s protection against violence, a central demand of feminist activism in the post-January 25 Revolution period.
On paper, the current Egyptian regime looks to have expanded women's rights, but has since 2020 used the Cybercrime Law, a supposedly gender-neutral instrument, to detain and prosecute women TikTokers
This narrow focus on advances and regressions in gender equality policies, however, risks missing the broader regulatory apparatus deployed to discipline gender and sexuality. In Egypt in particular, the regime has since 2020 used the Cybercrime Law, a supposedly gender-neutral instrument, to detain and prosecute women TikTokers.
Türkiye and Egypt offer ample evidence of how dominant theoretical frameworks can illuminate or obscure anti-gender dynamics. Sometimes, the available conceptual repertoire resonates with the case under examination, and scholars can adopt or adapt it to reflect specificities. At other times, alternative theoretical approaches are more appropriate for examining very similar developments. As a result, some countries emerge as paradigms of anti-gender politics, while others remain absent from scholarly debate.
To effectively analyse anti-gender politics in the SWANA region, scholars need theoretical frameworks that eschew the dominant progress-reaction-reversal logic. More importantly, we need to expand our analytical lens to capture the complex architectures that regulate and discipline non-normative expressions of gender and sexuality. Only then will we be able to see, and tackle, anti-gender politics in the region.
