One Middle East analyst on why the public is being short-changed by the lack of female voices in the debate about Syria – and what it might take to change the status quo
At first, it felt in bad taste to mention it. Britain's media debate on Syria was depressingly, overwhelmingly male, but who would bring this up as the British parliament discussed agonising pictures of Syrian babies who had been gassed to death?
As a Middle East analyst with more than eight years of experience reporting in the region, I've grown accustomed to the lack of female voices. But it wasn't until almost two weeks after the chemical attack, when the BBC's World Service asked me to take part in an all-female panel discussion on Syria, that commentators started to write about the disparity. The lack wasn't on the ground – where there are many female reporters – but on the comment pages and in the studios, where debate takes shape.
One explanation for this, over Syria, is predictable: war and diplomacy are traditionally male stronghold subjects. One senior TV editor says: "Producers [when booking programme guests] think about war and have an image of a white male in his 50s talking about it, so unconsciously, that's what they aim for."
In print, editors often unwittingly collude in the process of marginalising women – especially over subjects such as the Middle East. In my experience, high-profile male columnists jump on a subject like Syria regardless of what they might have to contribute, simply because it's a hot topic and they have to be seen to be addressing it. Heavyweight female columnists, incidentally, have told me that they avoided Syria because they thought it silly to start spouting on subjects that aren't an area of expertise.
Even editors whom actively try to address the imbalance are stumped. By the time they commission the scrap of space that's left after all the entitled white men have staked their claims, it's at a premium.
Meanwhile, set against this squeeze is the far higher burden of proof required if you're female, a minority or not from an upper middle class background, because of the staggering force of all the invisible or denied hierarchies of power and access that operate within British media. You keep jumping the bars, but they keep rising even higher and you're always at the same starting point regardless of talent, experience or track record. Eventually, many women, many minorities, will just stop trying – because that kind of effort, in the face of ever-shifting targets, simply isn't sustainable.
Sometimes, editors, being human, are unhelpfully prone to taking it personally when you raise the issue of a diversity – even though this clearly isn't about individuals but rather a systemic, institutional bias. Meanwhile, many women I know do voice concerns with editors, but individuals are easy to dismiss as "unreasonable".
Women are judged much more than men, obviously more so on TV. That's an additional burden. (If you're called up at short notice, after thinking, "Do I know the subject?" how many men also need to ask themselves: "Will I be rubbished for how I look today?") But for me, TV currently feels like a more inclusive medium – primarily because there is so much time to fill in 24-hour formats. The "flagships" of debate – Radio 4's Today programme, or Newsnight – are still almost bloody-mindedly male and white, but the BBC news and world channels, Sky News and al-Jazeera all seem actively to be seeking female voices in male-dominated fields such as the Middle East. There are still problems, of course. I have pitched up to TV and radio discussions to realise that I am, like some three-in-one detergent, the guest ticking several boxes: not Oxbridge; not Anglo; not male. I have appeared on panels where all the men maintain eye contact, and conversation, with each other so I have to interrupt and raise my voice. I do it, but I don't want to be that person. I have been on live TV discussions where male guests have dominated, talking for too long, thereby sidelining me. As things are, the white-male monopoly is stunting the debate. Reading some of the things written by some men over Syria – moral posturing, historical sweeps and muddled references to sectarianism being my personal peeves – I couldn't help thinking that if a woman were to write the same nonsense, she'd be laughed off the page.
What's especially painful about the nonsense spouted on the Middle East, a region I come from and care deeply about, is that it turns people off the subject. I know, from the many who approach me with questions, that people are genuinely interested in Egypt, or Syria, but are confused and frustrated by the lack of clear, engaging analysis. In the end, this lack of real diversity is an insult to the public we are supposed to be informing.