Female genital mutilation: what the UK can learn from overseas

We would do well to learn from the openness, engagement and attitude change in Mali.

Komara’s granddaughter was three years old when her clitoris was cut out. In this area of Mali it was accepted practice that girls must have parts of their external genitalia removed, in order to become women. Unfortunately this young girl did not survive the process. She suffered a massive haemorrhage, dying in a pool of her own blood.

Komara decided she had seen enough. Joined by mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters she spoke out against the practice. More and more people in Tounkara village got behind her. A fortnight ago I was there as the whole community – girls, women, former cutters and elders explained publicly on local TV how they were stopping the practice in their community.

Why is the UK failing to stop female genital mutilation while in Mali an increasing number of communities are protecting their girls from this abuse? Perhaps because criminalising an abuse is ineffective without action to inform and enforce.

The Director of Public Prosecution, Keir Starmer, has acknowledged this week that although female genital mutilation has been a criminal offence here since 1985, there has not been a single prosecution. Perhaps some lessons from Tounkara could help protect the 20000 British girls at risk of mutilation, because their families hail from countries like Mali and parts of Africa and the Middle East where this abuse is common.

Local Plan worker, Boucom Madima, explained to me that trust and time are key. “We have been working with 80 villages for ten years and the rate of excision for girls under four in this area has dropped from 97% to 46%. Some villages are divided with voices being raised against it, others are hesitant. Most are now in the middle of abandoning the practice and 27 have totally banned it.”

The conversation starts around the health risks. The local health worker briefs parents on the dangers of haemorrhage, infection, tetanus and HIV and warns that girls are twice as likely to die in childbirth after undergoing female genital mutilation.

Suleiman, who lives in Tounkara, has five girls but stopped mutilation after the pain the first two suffered. When another girl haemorrhaged after being cut, the two cutters (the aunt and her niece) made the connection and decided to stop using the blade. They told me, “Side effects don’t show straight away. Before we never connected the stomach pains or difficulty in childbirth with excision... Now we know it is connected we cannot carry on.”

The village council also backed Komara’s campaign. The chief makes space at village meetings for sessions to tackle head on the dangers of mutilation and the arguments for it- including tradition, cleanliness, preserving a girl’s honour. Although there is no national law yet against female genital mutilation, this community is about to declare itself free of the practice.

Munkoro village is conservative – children are seen and not heard and women are rarely vocal in public. So it was a sign of the social revolution that had taken place that 15 year old Namala could publicly declare, looking straight into the TV camera,

“Excision is bad for girls. I remember the pain. There is danger of loss of blood, of tetanus, of HIV infection. We must stop excision in Mali.”

When will such openness, engagement and attitude change happen in the UK? So far even two acts of parliament and a parliamentary enquiry have not succeeded in protecting our girls.

 

Marie Staunton with Namala, who has spoken out bravely against excision.

Marie Staunton is  Chief Executive of Plan UK, one of the largest child-centred community development organisations in the world.

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Cabinet audit: what does the appointment of Andrea Leadsom as Environment Secretary mean for policy?

The political and policy-based implications of the new Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs.

A little over a week into Andrea Leadsom’s new role as Secretary of State for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (Defra), and senior industry figures are already questioning her credentials. A growing list of campaigners have called for her resignation, and even the Cabinet Office implied that her department's responsibilities will be downgraded.

So far, so bad.

The appointment would appear to be something of a consolation prize, coming just days after Leadsom pulled out of the Conservative leadership race and allowed Theresa May to enter No 10 unopposed.

Yet while Leadsom may have been able to twist the truth on her CV in the City, no amount of tampering will improve the agriculture-related side to her record: one barely exists. In fact, recent statements made on the subject have only added to her reputation for vacuous opinion: “It would make so much more sense if those with the big fields do the sheep, and those with the hill farms do the butterflies,” she told an audience assembled for a referendum debate. No matter the livelihoods of thousands of the UK’s hilltop sheep farmers, then? No need for butterflies outside of national parks?

Normally such a lack of experience is unsurprising. The department has gained a reputation as something of a ministerial backwater; a useful place to send problematic colleagues for some sobering time-out.

But these are not normal times.

As Brexit negotiations unfold, Defra will be central to establishing new, domestic policies for UK food and farming; sectors worth around £108bn to the economy and responsible for employing one in eight of the population.

In this context, Leadsom’s appointment seems, at best, a misguided attempt to make the architects of Brexit either live up to their promises or be seen to fail in the attempt.

At worst, May might actually think she is a good fit for the job. Leadsom’s one, water-tight credential – her commitment to opposing restraints on industry – certainly has its upsides for a Prime Minister in need of an alternative to the EU’s Common Agricultural Policy (CAP); a policy responsible for around 40 per cent the entire EU budget.

Why not leave such a daunting task in the hands of someone with an instinct for “abolishing” subsidies  thus freeing up money to spend elsewhere?

As with most things to do with the EU, CAP has some major cons and some equally compelling pros. Take the fact that 80 per cent of CAP aid is paid out to the richest 25 per cent of farmers (most of whom are either landed gentry or vast, industrialised, mega-farmers). But then offset this against the provision of vital lifelines for some of the UK’s most conscientious, local and insecure of food producers.

The NFU told the New Statesman that there are many issues in need of urgent attention; from an improved Basic Payment Scheme, to guarantees for agri-environment funding, and a commitment to the 25-year TB eradication strategy. But that they also hope, above all, “that Mrs Leadsom will champion British food and farming. Our industry has a great story to tell”.

The construction of a new domestic agricultural policy is a once-in-a-generation opportunity for Britain to truly decide where its priorities for food and environment lie, as well as to which kind of farmers (as well as which countries) it wants to delegate their delivery.

In the context of so much uncertainty and such great opportunity, Leadsom has a tough job ahead of her. And no amount of “speaking as a mother” will change that.

India Bourke is the New Statesman's editorial assistant.