My interviews with six of the judges took place in various court premises in Cairo, Giza, and Alexandria. As for the interviews with the judges who were based in Banha and Munufiya, they were conducted in the Judges Club in Giza, upon their request. The interviews varied in length and depth. For example, I was able to conduct several follow-up interviews with two judges since I was also observing the proceedings in their courtrooms for a period of time. With three judges, I had an unplanned group interview that lasted for an hour and a half, whereas I conducted longer scheduled individual interviews with three other judges. Again, the interviews with the court experts also varied in length and depth. With five of the court experts, I was able to conduct a series of short individual interviews over a period of many months as I was conducting court observations in Cairo and Giza. With the other five court experts, I conducted a one-hour group interview and then short half-hour follow-up interviews with three of the court experts over the course of two days when I was conducting field research in Alexandria.
My access to courtroom proceedings for observation also varied. On some days, I was granted more or less full access and thus I was allowed to attend all court sessions for the day, and talk to the court personnel afterward. On other days, I was sent away because either the judge who facilitated my access was not there, or because the judiciary panel was too busy or did not want a researcher around on that particular day. On the whole, I was able to conduct fairly regular observations in one court in 2007—twice a week over a period of six months—and again in 2009–2010, although the observations in the latter court were once a week for three months. My observations in the third court (conducted in 2007), however, were much less regular. Hence, the findings of this research need to also be assessed in light of these data limitations. Thus, this study does not claim to be based on data that is nationally representative or entirely systematic. Still, I believe the collected data was sufficiently adequate and varied to yield noteworthy findings. Again, neither the size nor the profile of the disputants was representative nationwide. Also, only one-time interviews were conducted with all the disputants except for one. In other words, we did not repeatedly meet with the disputants and spend a lot of time with them to learn about different aspects of their lives. I spent extensive time with only one disputant, and conducted a series of life story interviews with her as I followed her trajectory to fault-based divorce over several years. I wrote about this disputant elsewhere (Al-Sharmani 2014a). But overall, it was not possible to conduct extensive field research on a larger number of disputants, given the multifaceted focus of our research and our human resource constraints. Again, these constraints are relevant to the limitations of this study.
A number of works drawing on this research have already been published. However, this book provides a much more developed and in-depth analysis of the multifaceted findings of this research.
Organization of the Book
The book is divided into five chapters. Chapter 1 traces the efforts of the main actors who were behind the establishment of the new family courts. My aim is to shed light on the varied and sometimes divergent understandings and aims of the different actors who were involved in these efforts, as well as the rushed and top-down process through which the new law was codified, resulting in the establishment of a court system with challenges and contradictions.
Chapter 2 examines the practices of the new family courts. I investigate how the new courts system—with its special features of pre- and while-litigation mediation as well as specialized judiciary panel—facilitates or hinders women’s access to justice. I explore how those working in the new family courts understand and undertake their roles. I also examine disputants’ experiences of court mediation, highlighting the latter’s mixed and uneven functions and effects as both an alternative mechanism of dispute resolution and as part of the litigation process. In addition, I examine the kinds of dialogues that take place between disputants and court personnel and the gender discourses that they reflect and sustain. My overall aim is to identify and reflect on the main limitations as well as the benefits—albeit limited—of the new courts system as a pathway to the legal empowerment of women.
Chapter 3 sheds light on women disputants’ use of khul‘ as a legal option. I examine common motivations and goals for seeking this type of divorce. I highlight the familial and social contexts in which these women’s lives are embedded and how these contexts shape their trajectories to this type of divorce. The chapter also examines the legal processes and experiences entailed in women’s pursuit of khul‘ in the courtroom in order to identify the benefits of this law as well as its challenges and limitations for women. In relation to this latter point, my goal is to investigate if khul‘, in the way it is used and implemented, functions as a no-fault divorce and how it compares to fault-based divorce in terms of plaintiffs’ legal strategies, goals, and experiences. This chapter draws partially on a published book chapter (Al-Sharmani 2012), but it presents a much more developed analysis that is informed by a larger body of data than what was used in the earlier published material.
Chapter 4 examines the role that family law plays outside legal texts and courtroom practices. I investigate if and how the legal script of marriage and marital rights relate to and shape marriage practices in the society. Does it influence women’s and men’s aspirations, goals, and strategies as they pursue or navigate marriage relationships? In particular, I investigate the impact of the new personal status laws which have been introduced since 2000 on the social discourses and practices of marriage.
Chapter 5 reflects on the findings of this study with regard to the significance and limitations of the new family courts and the khul‘ law as legal pathways to gender reform. The chapter also reviews the initiatives that were being put forward in the period from 2005 to 2010 by different state and non-state actors to legislate new comprehensive, gender-sensitive, substantive personal status laws. I examine how the proposals for a new substantive family law were speaking to the gaps in the already introduced legal reforms and building on them. I also briefly shed light on why and how the pursuit of religious reform became ever more relevant and intertwined with the gender-sensitive reform of family law during this period.
I conclude with final reflections on the trajectory of seeking gender equality and justice through reforms of family laws in modern-day Egypt, with the unfolding of the January 25 Revolution of 2011 and its aftermath.
The New Family Courts: Actors, Agendas, and Goals
It [family court] is about a different legislative and judicial philosophy that is implemented in separate premises, where it is quiet, friendly, and reassuring for families and children.
—Laila Takla, Mahakim al-usra: qadaya shaghalatni (Family Courts: Causes that Preoccupied Me), 2004.
In 2002, Laila Takla—a prominent Egyptian lawyer, academic, former politician, and public thinker—published the first edition of her book on family courts. In it, she laid out her vision and passionate arguments for establishing a specialized and unified court system that would handle all family disputes. Takla argued that such a court system was based on a philosophy that foregrounds the well-being of the children and family through participatory, collaborative, and mediation-centered legal processes. The publication of Takla’s book was part of her initiative to promote the establishment of specialized, mediation-based family courts in the country. Takla had also proposed the initiative earlier through a series of articles in the daily newspaper al-Ahram.