During a meeting last night with some Saudi friends on the outskirts of Riyadh, one of the topics raised was the high dowries fathers demand, which are causing many women to remain unmarried.
We moved on to a general discussion on how some traditions that prevail in Saudi society are an exaggeration of what our religion calls for, but nevertheless people hold on to them and pass them down from one generation to another. An example given was that we slaughter a camel or sheep to prepare a feast in honor of a guest. Though our religion stresses the importance of hospitality, it never said that the guest’s status is measured by the amount or type of food put in front of him.
Yet, despite that, as we discussed, a majority of Saudis still believe that offering a home-made meal, or any meal that cannot be described as a feast, would be an insult to the guest.
That was just one example. The general point was that if we realize that some of these traditions exaggerate the principle of our religion, what is the duty of a new generation?
Should we adjust these traditions in our way of life? If so, what would be said of us? Can society accept behavior that is contrary to what the older generation believe to be right? How are we going to convey to another generation the message that, in principle, hospitality is wonderful and demanded by our religion, but not when it involves excessive spending. Good intentions, we agreed, not the amount or type of food, are what matters most.
Another important question that arose was: Should our government take a role in making people aware that some traditions — which have prevailed in this land for centuries — need to be reconsidered? And how would people react to that?
The government cannot change people’s mindsets, we all agreed. The people themselves can only do that. Change would have to come from the grass roots first, then from above. And performing that balancing act is what the government is doing. But do people want to change even if they were not necessarily following the right path? That was the question none of us could answer.
One of our friends told us a story that shocked us all. He had gone to a court here in Riyadh with a female relative about a matter that required her presence. Though his relative had her new photo ID issued by the Civil Status Department with her, the judge told him he did not believe in such IDs and did not accept them. And because women who appear before judges in courts here are told to cover their faces, our friend was instructed to bring two male relatives to testify that the woman under the veil was indeed the person she said she was.
The official new government photo ID for women was created for their own legal protection against veiled impersonators who appear in court to get their hands on their money, for instance. The government took the measure after this kind of embezzlement had cost Saudi women some SR300 million in losses, as was reported in the local press a few years ago. Despite the importance of verifying the identity of a woman from seeing her photo on an ID, this judge, with all his authority, thought it was wrong to look at a woman’s photo, even for verification purposes.
Issuing photo IDs was a big step forward for women in this country, who had never been allowed to have their own independent photo ID before and used to be only names on the family card. It was also a matter of necessity as it involved protection against fraud.
That our government issued such photo ID cards for the legal protection of women’s identity was a major step forward. That a judge in a Saudi court would not accept the ID as a document of legal validity because it contained a picture of a woman is a step back again.
Arab News Opinion 16 April 2003
