Abstract
Saudi Arabia's 2024 appointment to chair the UN Commission on the Status of Women sparked international controversy, highlighting the stark contradiction between the kingdom's domestic women's rights record and its international positioning on gender equality.
A Controversial Appointment
In March 2024, Saudi Arabia assumed the chairmanship of the United Nations Commission on the Status of Women (CSW), the UN's principal intergovernmental body dedicated to promoting gender equality and women's empowerment. The appointment, which followed an unopposed election after the Philippines was pressured to withdraw, provoked immediate backlash from human rights organizations worldwide. Amnesty International's Sherine Tadros captured the widespread dismay, noting that "whoever is in the chair is in a key position to influence planning and decisions" and that "Saudi Arabia's own record on women's rights is abysmal, and a far cry from the mandate of the commission."
The controversy underscores a fundamental tension in contemporary international politics: the gap between states' external positioning on human rights and their domestic practices. Saudi Arabia's chairmanship represents perhaps the most striking example of this dissonance, given the kingdom's well-documented restrictions on women's freedoms and continued detention of feminist activists. This paradox raises critical questions about the effectiveness of international mechanisms for advancing women's rights and whether formal representation in global forums can coexist with systematic domestic oppression.
Saudi Arabia's domestic women's rights record remains deeply problematic despite recent reforms. The male guardianship system, though not codified in written law, continues to require women to obtain permission from male relatives for fundamental life decisions. Women historically needed guardian approval for marriage, divorce, travel, education, employment, opening bank accounts, and certain medical procedures. While some restrictions have been relaxed under Crown Prince Mohammed bin Salman's Vision 2030 reform program, the underlying patriarchal structure persists.
The most visible reform came in June 2018 when Saudi Arabia became the last country in the world to lift its ban on women driving. This change, widely celebrated internationally, was part of Vision 2030's objective to increase women's workforce participation, projected to boost GDP by 65 percent. Women's labor force participation rose from 15 percent in 2018 to 34.5 percent by 2024, exceeding Vision 2030 targets. Women now comprise over half of university enrollments and have made advances in academia, business, and public administration. The literacy rate for Saudi women aged 15-24 approaches 100 percent, compared to 57 percent in 1992.
However, these economic and educational gains coexist with continued repression of women's rights advocacy. In a pattern that reveals the limits of state-directed reform, authorities detained several women who had campaigned for the right to drive just weeks before the ban was officially lifted. Pro-government media displayed their photos and accused them of treason, citing "suspicious contact with foreign entities" and "providing financial support to hostile elements." This crackdown signaled that while the government would grant certain rights on its own terms, independent advocacy for women's equality would not be tolerated.
The detention and prosecution of feminist activists has continued under Vision 2030. Manahel al-Otaibi, a women's rights activist and fitness instructor, has been held since November 2022 on charges of "defaming the kingdom, calling for rebellion against public order, and challenging the judiciary." Her sister Fouz, facing similar charges, fled the country and highlighted the contradiction: "there are two states—a state with Vision 2030, and a state that still applies the old strict rules." This selective modernization reveals that Saudi reforms aim to project progressivism internationally while maintaining authoritarian control domestically.
Technology has been weaponized to enforce restrictions on women's mobility. The government's Absher app, required for passport renewals and government services, includes a travel log that enables male guardians to monitor and control women's international travel remotely. While legislation since 2021 theoretically gives all citizens control over personal data, Human Rights Watch reports that enforcement remains inconsistent and that technology continues to facilitate surveillance of women. Annual escape attempts by over 1,000 women are often thwarted when text alerts notify guardians of their departures.
The dress code and gender segregation requirements persist, though enforcement has become less stringent in major cities. Women must wear modest clothing and traditionally cover all body parts except hands and eyes in the presence of non-family men. While some urban women now dress more liberally, claims of further relaxation in 2025 lack official confirmation. Gender segregation remains enforced throughout the education system and most public spaces, though select universities now offer co-educational courses with segregated living facilities.
Perhaps most troubling are reports of "care homes" (Dar al-Reaya) that function as effective prisons for women deemed disobedient by their families. A 2025 Guardian investigation found women institutionalized for extramarital relationships, absence from home, or even protecting family reputation after sexual abuse by male relatives. Treatment includes solitary confinement, flogging, and denial of visits—conditions that amount to severe human rights violations. These practices reveal how patriarchal control extends beyond legal restrictions into extralegal coercion.
Foreign domestic workers, predominantly women, face particularly severe vulnerabilities. The kafala sponsorship system creates conditions resembling modern slavery, with workers experiencing violence, rape, and movement restrictions. The US State Department identified forced labor of foreign domestic workers as the most common form of trafficking in Saudi Arabia, enabled by legal loopholes that deny workers protection and recourse. Despite reforms to labor law, implementation remains inadequate and abuses continue largely unpunished.
Saudi Arabia's foreign policy has not adopted feminist principles, despite the kingdom's CSW chairmanship. Unlike countries such as Sweden, Canada, France, and Germany that have formally implemented Feminist Foreign Policies (FFP) emphasizing gender equality in diplomatic and security decisions, Saudi Arabia has not made such commitments. In fact, Sweden's FFP under Foreign Minister Margot Wallström explicitly criticized Saudi Arabia for oppressing women and called for ending military cooperation—a stance that led to diplomatic rupture with Riyadh in 2015. This episode illustrates that countries with genuine feminist foreign policies view Saudi Arabia as antithetical to gender equality principles rather than as a partner.
The contradiction becomes sharper when examining Saudi Arabia's international positioning. The kingdom seeks to project an image of modernization and reform to attract foreign investment and improve its global reputation, particularly among Western democracies and international institutions. Women's rights serve as symbolic markers of progress in this public relations strategy, with reforms calibrated to generate positive headlines while avoiding fundamental challenges to patriarchal power structures. The CSW chairmanship fits this pattern—it provides international legitimacy without requiring substantive domestic change.
International responses to Saudi Arabia's CSW role have been muted. No other commission member opposed the appointment, revealing either diplomatic calculation or resignation to the rotating regional system that governs UN body leadership. This silence reflects broader challenges in global human rights governance, where geopolitical considerations and bloc politics often override principled stands on rights violations. The episode demonstrates that international mechanisms can be instrumentalized by authoritarian states seeking legitimacy rather than promoting genuine reform.
The Saudi case illustrates what scholars call "state feminism"—government-led women's rights initiatives designed to enhance regime legitimacy rather than empower women as autonomous political actors. Such reforms expand women's participation in controlled domains while suppressing independent feminist movements that might challenge patriarchal authority. This selective empowerment serves both domestic audiences (creating the appearance of modernization) and international observers (demonstrating progress on development indicators), while preserving male control over political and social institutions.
Looking forward, the tension between Saudi Arabia's international positioning and domestic practices will likely persist. Vision 2030 will continue producing economic and social changes that improve women's material conditions and opportunities, particularly in urban areas and professional classes. However, without dismantling the guardianship system, establishing rule of law protections for women's rights, and allowing independent civil society advocacy, these reforms will remain incomplete and reversible. The true test of Saudi Arabia's commitment to gender equality will be whether it accepts criticism, releases detained activists, and permits women to organize for their rights—transformations that currently seem unlikely.
The Saudi paradox ultimately reveals the limits of international institutions to promote human rights when divorced from genuine domestic accountability. Formal representation in bodies like the CSW means little without substantive commitment to gender equality principles. Until Saudi Arabia demonstrates willingness to move beyond selective modernization toward comprehensive rights protection, its chairmanship of the Commission on the Status of Women will remain a symbol of international hypocrisy rather than progress toward global gender justice.