Libya’s Women’s Rights, Security, and Politico-Economics

Author(s): Scott Douglas Jacobsen

Publication (Outlet/Website): The Good Men Project

Publication Date (yyyy/mm/dd): 2025/04/22

Hala Bugaighis, a prominent Libyan researcher, women’s rights activist, and business lawyer discusses her journey from law to civil society after the assassination of her cousin, Salwa Bugaighis. She highlights the challenges Libyan women face, including exclusion from political and economic decision-making, lack of legal protections, and societal repression. Bugaighis criticizes Western contradictions in human rights advocacy, emphasizing how global regressions empower anti-rights movements in Libya. She stresses the need for economic empowerment and resilience in activism. 

Scott Douglas Jacobsen: Today, we are here with Hala Bugaighis. She is a prominent Libyan researcher, women’s rights activist, and business lawyer with over 15 years of experience in commercial and petroleum law. She co-founded the Jusoor Center for Studies and Development, a Libyan think tank focused on economic development and advocating for women’s economic inclusion. In 2018, she founded LEAP, Libya’s first business incubator for women.

Hala Bugaighis is also a member of the Libyan Women Peace and Security Advisory Group, working to strengthen women’s roles in peace and security processes. She frequently speaks at local and international events on issues related to economic development and gender.

So, my first question—you have been a lawyer for over 15 years. What initially sparked your interest in women’s economic issues and security? These are broad and complex topics; when someone commits to them, it often becomes a lifelong pursuit, as it has for you.

Hala Bugaighis: Thank you for the question. It is a difficult story to share.

In 2015, I was an established lawyer with a promising career at a law firm. I had excellent prospects, particularly in the commercial and petroleum sectors. However, that same year, Libya plunged into its second civil war and targeted assassinations of women became a terrifying reality. One of the victims was my relative.

She was my first cousin once removed, Salwa Bugaighis, a renowned human rights lawyer and democracy advocate. Salwa had been a leading voice for civil rights, democracy, and women’s empowerment in Libya. Although we were from different generations and did not know each other well, I met her just one month before she was brutally assassinated.

During our conversation, she convinced me to engage in civil society. I told her that I didn’t see the benefit of nonprofit work, that it was a waste of time, and that being a lawyer was fulfilling both professionally and financially. She disagreed strongly. She told me, “What a waste that someone like you, with your intelligence and skills, is not with us in the movement. We need you. We need to talk more.”

We had planned to meet again, and she was determined to persuade me. Tragically, I had an accident on the day we were supposed to meet, and I never saw her again. She returned to Benghazi, where she was brutally assassinated in her home on June 25, 2014, shortly after casting her vote in Libya’s parliamentary elections.

Her murder was a turning point. After her death, there was a chilling silence from women’s voices in Libya. She was the first woman to be assassinated in her own home during the conflict. Her words continued to echo in my mind, and I dreamt of her constantly. That moment changed everything for me. I knew I had met her for a reason. I decided to stop everything, honour her legacy, and dedicate myself fully to civil society.

]And that’s why I gave up my law career and joined the civil society movement. With the money I earned as a lawyer, I invested in Jusoor, my organization, to support its work during difficult times. That was the turning point in my life.

Jacobsen: I mean, that’s—hey, that’s tragic.

Bugaighis: I know.

Jacobsen: And regarding her murder—this happened in her home. Was it carried out by State forces or a domestic attack?

Bugaighis: To this day, we do not know who murdered her. She was on television that day, urging people to go out and vote because it was election day. She encouraged people to cast their ballots and participate in the democratic process.

And then, suddenly, we heard about her murder. There was no open investigation into what happened. The government remained silent. Even today, we cannot accuse anyone. We do not know who did it or why. It remains a mystery.

Jacobsen: Something was pointed out during one of the sessions, which had singing at the end. A South African delegate made a final two-minute comment. I believe it was an Afrikaner.

I think she was from the Sisters of Mercy. She noted that the femicide rate—globally, if not in South Africa alone—had increased significantly, somewhere between 80% and 120%. In other words, it had nearly doubled.

For a public figure like your cousin, that is not the kind of person you would typically target because such a case is more likely to be investigated with significant resources. That makes it even more likely that this was a targeted assassination. Of course, that is speculation—but it is speculation grounded in reasonable considerations.

So, a tragedy jump-started your transition to civil society. Had you heard much about civil society before that conversation or that moment? Several people at UNHQ during CSW69 over the last few days have noted that they didn’t know about “civil society”–the concept–when they were younger. They only got involved more recently.

Bugaighis: Libya is a different case. We didn’t have a civil society for decades.

Jacobsen: You didn’t even have society?

Bugaighis: Exactly. We lived under a dictatorship where everything was designed to serve the leader—the Brother Leader, as we called him.

Jacobsen: The what? The Brother Leader.

Bugaighis: Yes, that’s how we referred to him. It all changed in 2011, with the new system, the uprising, and the fall of Gaddafi. That’s when we started hearing about civil society, grassroots movements, and people regrouping for different causes.

Before that, human rights weren’t even a topic of discussion—you didn’t talk about them. So, yes, I first heard about civil society in 2011.

Jacobsen: You mentioned 2011 as the first time you heard about it. So, okay, let’s establish two points of contact. So, when you first heard about civil society in 2011, and then later, when you founded Jusoor in 2015, how was the concept of human rights viewed in Libya? How would you say perceptions have evolved over the last 14 years, or at least over the past decade?

Bugaighis: In 2011, everybody talked about human rights, democracy, and social justice. These principles were the foundation of why people took to the streets and protested against Gaddafi. It was not just about a regime change but about demanding fundamental freedoms.

These ideals were at the heart of everything—constitutional declarations, political discussions, and civic engagement for about a year. People were motivated and hopeful. This is what we wanted, what we believed in.

But then, after Libya held its first parliamentary elections, everything shifted. Suddenly, the discourse changed. The focus moved away from human rights and democracy, and we started hearing about national security as the new priority.

Jacobsen: That sounds very American. America sounds like Libya. I mean, a lot of these stories…

Bugaighis: This is our history.

Jacobsen: I know, I know. Many of these excuses—I see where this is going—are internationally common is what I’m getting at.

Bugaighis: Absolutely, yes. And in 2015, when I started, there was no discussion of human rights. It was a taboo.

Human rights were considered a Western concept that went against our social traditions. You name it—there was always some excuse.

Today, we even see international actors interfering in Libya, compromising human rights for the sake of so-called “stability.” Human rights and democracy—these principles are being sacrificed to maintain order. This is incredibly dangerous because you cannot build the foundations of stability or a new political process on the wrong principles.

And this is exactly what is happening now.

Human rights defenders are being targeted in Libya. Speaking out about these issues is once again a taboo. It is completely shut down. All the major human rights defenders have left Libya—they have been forced into exile, outcasted, and they live in fear for their lives.

Jacobsen: What does this mean for the status of women in society? And for men, how does this shape how both genders are forced into particular societal roles? People are generally less free.

Bugaighis: That’s true. Even during Gaddafi’s rule, I always say that the issue wasn’t just about women’s rights—it was about human rights as a whole. And unfortunately, this is what is happening again.

Both men and women lack basic freedoms and are forced to self-censor. These rights are now seen as privileges, something people are told they cannot even discuss.

But when it comes to women, it is even more complicated.

Historically and traditionally, women were never meant to be part of public life. Their role has always been confined to the home and small community circles. Women were not welcomed in the public sphere.

So, when women step into public life—when they speak out and/or engage in activism—it’s not just the government or authorities that react. Even society itself sees them as breaking some unwritten moral code.

There is a belief that if a woman puts herself in the public sphere, she deserves to be targeted. She deserves to be silenced—even assassinated—because she left her so-called proper place in the private sphere.

This is why it is so much more complicated for women. Libyan society still refuses to see us as part of public life.

Jacobsen: One thing that often comes up in interviews on these topics is that when an excluded group—women, in this case—steps outside their expected role, they face slurs in their native language. What are some of the common insults directed at women in Libya?

Bugaighis: Let’s start with the most polite ones.

Jacobsen: The most polite.

Bugaighis: Yes. One common phrase in Libya is, “You don’t have men in your house?” or “Where are the men?” They will say, “Where are the men in this household? How come there are women here?”—as if being present in public or speaking out means something is wrong. And then, of course, it escalates to much more immoral and degrading insults. It becomes too much. You can see from this mindset that they assume men should control their women and keep them inside the home.

Jacobsen: Oh yes, that’s exactly right. The implication is that these men have shirked their responsibility. 

Bugaighis: The blame isn’t just placed on women—it’s also placed on the men for failing to “control” them.

I ask this question often because I’ve spoken to journalists who, internationally, have endured relentless harassment—not just outright violence but also sustained intimidation across different societies.

Both men and women experience this at some level. But for women, there’s an additional layer—it is typically sexualized in nature. I don’t receive that kind of harassment. I have not experienced those types of threats. That is one very stark gender distinction in the journalistic world. Would it be the same for women’s rights defenders?

Bugaighis: It is. When I briefed the United Nations Security Council, some people immediately took to social media to attack me—not for what I was saying, but for not wearing a headscarf–in Libya. On social media. A month later, a man spoke at the same briefing. The conversation around him was completely different.

Nobody questioned his morality. Nobody attacked him for his appearance. They discussed what he was saying. With me, they didn’t discuss what I was saying at all. They only discussed that I was immoral.

Jacobsen: How have you applied your business law expertise—particularly your experience in organizational founding, administration, and business acumen—to addressing the challenges of women’s security and rights protections in Libya? Where have you seen the greatest progress, and where have you witnessed the most intense pushback? One theme that has come up constantly at CSW69 is that we are in an era of pushback.

Bugaighis: The one thing that worked for me as a business lawyer is knowing how to speak, negotiate, and convince people to support me. I know how to engage different audiences, prepare them, and frame discussions effectively. These negotiation skills, which I have developed over the years, have been crucial in persuading people that I am reliable—that my voice needs to be heard and that my organization needs to be involved in decision-making.

This is very difficult for many people. I don’t know what to say about the pushback—it is a challenging time for everyone. But I am used to it. Regarding Libya, I have always felt like I was walking in a minefield. You must always be careful, study where you step, be mindful of what you say, and know when to pause or shift strategies.

I have to say this: when you look at CSW and other feminist organizations, they are heavily reliant on donors and international aid, which is understandable. But they don’t know how to function without i, which is a problem. We should be an organic movement that can work independently, regardless of funding cycles.

Of course, financial support is important. We need to get paid and have resources to carry out our work effectively. However, many organizations are in shock because they don’t know how to continue without external funding. And it’s not just about the money—it’s also about the strategies. They often don’t know what to do next when funding is cut.

We struggle with this, too—we are not immune. But we have learned when to step back when to reflect, and when to act. We have figured out how to operate in a hostile and unpredictable environment.

We worked inside Libya during the war. In 2019, when hospitals were being bombarded and everything was collapsing, we were still on the ground. Our organization was under attack, yet we continued working. We learned how to function no matter what. It is not an ideal situation, of course—no one should have to work under such dangerous conditions—but it has given us the resilience needed to navigate difficult times.

Jacobsen: In one of your speeches—not necessarily at CSW, but at a Women, Peace, and Security event—you mentioned your second cousin’s story. What was the reaction to that speech? How did the international community respond to you sharing such a personal anecdote on that platform? And what was the reaction on social media?

Bugaighis: Do you mean the reaction from the Libyan or international audiences?

Jacobsen: That’s a good question. It was more probably impactful for the Libyan audience. How was it for you?

Bugaighis: I didn’t expect the Libyan audience to react like they did to my speech. Of course, I had some slurs thrown at me here and there—it was inevitable. But those mostly came from the usual voices deeply entrenched in political games. However, the broader response was overwhelmingly positive, especially from those engaged in Libyan politics and civil society. Many people were writing about it and congratulating me for being brave enough to bring it back into the conversation. This happened in 2015, and now, nobody talks about it anymore. So, for many, it felt like a necessary reminder of something that should never have been forgotten.

International bodies like UNSMIL and others also responded positively. They began discussing it again, and some even adopted elements of my ideas into their discussions and policy recommendations. I recently met with their team, and they are actively integrating these ideas into their approach. That is a sign of real progress.

When I prepared that speech, the usual process occurred—they came to me with suggestions about what they thought should be mentioned. They don’t tell you outright what to say but offer guidance on themes they’d like you to cover.

Jacobsen: It would be nice if you said this…

Bugaighis: Exactly. But I refused. If I was going to speak, it had to be my voice. I didn’t want anyone telling me what should or shouldn’t be included.

Jacobsen: Were any of the recommendations reasonable but just not your voice?

Bugaighis: No, nobody influenced what I said. I worked too hard to get a position where I could speak my mind. I was not going to give that up for anything. Even if a recommendation was reasonable, I needed to own my words.

Jacobsen: These issues don’t exist in isolation—they are all interconnected. Women can’t have security if they don’t have economic independence. And they can’t have true reproductive choices if they don’t have security and financial autonomy. These issues are woven together.

From a Libyan perspective, this is even more complex. Coming from a Canadian context, we have our own regression. However, we also started at a much higher baseline for women’s rights. Of course, there’s still room for improvement—particularly with Indigenous women’s rights, which are a major issue. I attended part of a session on that, and I recognized some of the speakers.

However, my understanding is that the baseline for multiple issues in Libya is quite low. So, in your opinion, which ones are the most critical within the Libyan cultural context?

For example, in Canada, finance is not the biggest barrier—something like 40% of households are led by female breadwinners. The real issue is political representation—and not just symbolic changes like making parliament 50-50, but actually building the infrastructure and pathways for women to reach those positions organically so that change is institutionalized, not just performative.

In Libya, what key pivot points need to be addressed first? What foundational changes are needed?

Bugaighis: What we need is to focus more on economic empowerment. Livelihoods are critically important, especially because of the ongoing conflict. Many women suddenly found themselves as the primary breadwinners—a role they never had before. Previously, even if they had jobs, they were often government jobs with low pay and little flexibility. With the economic crisis and instability, many women must take on multiple jobs to survive.

This is not just about survival—it is also about self-confidence and independence. When women are financially empowered, they regain a sense of power and control over their own lives. This is especially important in North Africa, where historically, women have been strong leaders. But over time, things changed. Conflict, political instability, and societal shifts have eroded that historical strength.

We also need representation across all sectors. Women are completely marginalized in politics, governance, and institutional decision-making. The most shocking example is economic policymaking—zero women are in economic decision-making roles. Can you believe that? None. Zero. Men make every single economic policy and decision that affects the nation exclusively.

Jacobsen: And that’s exactly the problem, right? You were talking earlier about funding dependency, but it goes beyond that. If women aren’t part of the decision-making process, they aren’t in control of resources or economic policies.

Bugaighis: It is not just about funding or budget allocations but about who decides how the nation’s wealth is distributed. Women are completely excluded from these conversations.

Jacobsen: Inheritance laws, for example—things like that?

Bugaighis: We are not even there yet. Another major issue is the lack of legal protections for women. Women cannot move freely in the streets without fear. They cannot drive safely because they face constant harassment. Law enforcement is not supportive—the system is not designed to protect women.

Only recently have policewomen been reinstated into the force. That alone shows you how deep the institutional problems are.

Jacobsen: And then, on top of all of this, some male commentators are pushing extreme narratives—not necessarily in Libya, but in broader Arab media. Sometimes, you see it on MEMRI TV or similar platforms—where some religious figure is giving a sermon, and you hear statements like “Women who dress provocatively are responsible for earthquakes.”

It’s absurd, and it highlights a complete detachment from reality. What we are discussing here—women’s security, economic empowerment, political representation—are real, practical issues. But then, you have these voices promoting archaic and superstitious beliefs that reinforce oppression rather than addressing real-world problems.

Bugaighis: Yes.

Jacobsen: But these impractical, irrelevant distractions influence real-world policies and discussions. It’s as if women are blamed for everything.

Bugaighis: Exactly. Women wearing makeup or showing their hair are supposedly responsible for earthquakes. Yet, menos, men who are looting the country, engaging in corruption, and selling off Libya’s resources to foreign powers for military bases—those men are not blamed.

These actual crimes—stripping Libya of its wealth, destabilizing its economy, and allowing foreign interference—do not cause earthquakes or disasters. But a woman with lipstick or uncovered hair does. It’s absurd.

Jacobsen: It also derails serious conversations. People get emotionally invested in sensationalist nonsense instead of addressing real issues. It happens in North America, too—people get caught up in chasing ghosts, believing in Sasquatch, or thinking the devil is lurking behind every corner.

Bugaighis: Here, too.

Jacobsen: It’s especially prominent in American megachurch culture among evangelical and charismatic pastors.

Bugaighis: Yeah.

Jacobsen: You see these televangelists on American TV—people fainting, convulsing, collapsing on the ground in mass hysteria.

Bugaighis: Yes, having a little epilepsy, as we say.

Jacobsen: And meanwhile, people buy into the witch hunts.

Bugaighis: Absolutely.

Jacobsen: These prosperity gospel preachers will tell people with diabetes, heart disease, or vision problems to throw their medication or glasses on stage because they are “healed by faith.”

Bugaighis: Yes, yes, yes.

Jacobsen: But none of this has anything to do with practical realities. People desperate for hope are exploited. Just like in economics—where there are legitimate grievances, but instead of fixing them, those frustrations get redirected toward false enemies and illegitimate targets.

Other groups have also been delegitimized in the political economy. What you’re describing in Libya isn’t the same as in North America—different culture and historical context’s roots, but the issue feels very familiar. It’s just that you’re starting from a lower cliff, so to speak—your baseline for these struggles is different. Still, the patterns of oppression and manipulation are similar.

Bugaighis: It is even more bizarre that this still happens today. That’s what makes it more surreal. This might have happened in North America in the 1940s or 1950s, maybe earlier.

Jacobsen: Sure, yeah.

Bugaighis: Even in the 1970s, I remember similar narratives.

Jacobsen: Probably more so in New York back then. But New York and California have always been kind of holdouts—places where things change a little faster.

Bugaighis: This mentality is still deeply embedded in many societies. It remains alive in people’s minds, and with modern tools like social media, it has become even easier to target people who challenge these ideas.

Jacobsen: Absolutely. Many of these people were never politically engaged, but now they have been politically energized. That’s why we are seeing these issues resurface so forcefully today.

This underscores one of the UN’s foundational premises—that despite our geographical and cultural differences, many of our experiences are only superficially different. Structurally, they are very much the same.

Bugaighis: Absolutely.

Jacobsen: Who are the women figures in Libya making significant inroads toward women’s equality?

Bugaighis: Libyan women are doing important work. Are you asking about political figures or activists?

Jacobsen: Political figures. Because honestly, people can have parades, protests, bumper stickers, lapel pins, blog posts, interviews—even small rallies. But at the end of the day, what truly changes things are economics and politics. Those forces make human rights and women’s equality a reality.

Bugaighis: We have a congresswoman, Rabia Abouraz. She is doing well. She is in parliament and the head of the Sustainable Development Committee. She has advocated for climate change policies, women’s rights, and decentralization. She is one of the best women leaders in Libya right now. I really respect her. Honestly, she’s the only one I can think of now.

Jacobsen: How do Libyans view the West, particularly when Western nations contradict their principles? The West often preaches universalist values but fails to uphold them in practice at times. We could go down a long laundry list of contradictions, naturally.

But when those contradictions become flagrant, like under the current American administration, how are they perceived in Libya? How do the media report on them?

Bugaighis: Although this is happening thousands of miles away from Libya, Libyans notice it immediately. They see Americans questioning their country’s principles and think, “Look, even the Americans are saying the same things we’ve been saying.”

To them, it validates their perspective. They see it as proof that the West is finally realizing its contradictions.

But more dangerously, it empowers those who oppose human rights in Libya. When the so-called leaders of the free world engage in anti-democratic behavior, it reinforces the belief that Libya is on the right track—that their own restrictions and regressions are justified. They see it as proof that the West is finally waking up to reality, which, in their minds, means rolling back human rights and social progress.

Jacobsen: Women in public life. Women in private life. Lesbians, gays, bisexuals…

Bugaighis: That topic does not exist in Libya. It is not allowed to be discussed.

Jacobsen: They exist. They are there—it’s just that nobody talks about it.

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