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Glass ceilings in governance hold firm
Glass ceilings in governance hold firm

Express Tribune

time24-03-2025

  • Politics
  • Express Tribune

Glass ceilings in governance hold firm

Karachi Democracy, at its core, is meant to uplift the powerless. In Pakistan, it does the opposite—reinforcing the dominance of those already privileged. Little wonder, then, that political leadership remains a men's club, while the brilliance of half the population is confined to handling household ledgers and flipping through fabric swatches. This imbalance is evident in the federal and provincial cabinets, where women hold a token presence. At the federal level, they occupy just two positions—one minister and one minister of state—amounting to a mere five per cent of the cabinet. In the provinces, female representation is just as limited, averaging less than 10 per cent. Yet, despite making up half the population, women remain largely shut out of the country's corridors of power. In Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa (K-P), home to nearly 20 million women, the provincial legislature has 120 active members—yet not a single woman holds a cabinet position. The assembly does have a female deputy speaker, but only one woman has been elected on a general seat, while five others occupy reserved seats. Sindh, where women number over 26 million, fares only slightly better. Of its 168 assembly members, just 30 are women, and only two have cabinet roles. Punjab, the most populous province with nearly 63 million women, has a female chief minister, yet women occupy only 53 out of 371 assembly seats and hold just two cabinet positions. Balochistan, the largest province by land area, offers an even bleaker picture. Out of its 65-member assembly, only one woman serves as a minister, while 11 others hold reserved seats. The deputy speaker is also a woman, but beyond that, female leadership remains scarce. According to Mumtaz Mughal, Director at the Aurat Foundation, despite women constituting 50 per cent of the country's population, their representation in the national and provincial assemblies has barely reached 17 per cent. Mughal believes that the high cost of elections, the large size of constituencies, the exclusion of rural women and the sexist attitudes of political parties led to women's low political participation. "We had demanded 33 per cent representation for women through a formal proposal recommending the allocation of alternate constituencies for women to enable their direct participation in elections both in 2018 and 2024. However, due to the weak commitment of parties, even the condition of 5 per cent tickets was not fulfilled during the previous elections," lamented Mumtaz. Fehmida Riaz, a Karachi-based women's rights activist and member of the Women's Action Forum (WAF), highlighted the low political participation of women in Sindh. She argued that their representation in the Sindh Assembly is largely symbolic—despite holding 16 per cent of the seats, their role in legislation and government formation remains negligible. "All government departments, barring a few, are led by men—even those meant to serve women," Riaz pointed out. With such minimal representation at every level, their voices, she said, are inevitably shut out of policymaking. "Even when laws protecting women's rights are passed in the Assembly, meaningful implementation at the grassroots remains elusive," she cautioned. Her words reflect a broader reality—women in Pakistan rarely hold positions of real political influence. Yet, against these odds, some defy the norm. In a recent conversation with The Express Tribune, K-P's Deputy Speaker, Suriya Bibi, took pride in securing a general seat against 12 male candidates. "This is a breakthrough for women in a male-dominated political arena. The idea that women cannot succeed in a patriarchal society is outdated—my victory proves that voters trust female leadership," she asserted. While Suriya's win is a silver lining for aspiring female politicians seeking to challenge the androcentric nature of governance, it remains an exception. Women's ascent to power in Pakistan is still an anomaly, their leadership constrained by preordained roles. Acknowledging the grim gender disparity in the K-P Assembly, Suriya questioned how women's voices—despite comprising a significant portion of the population—could be heard when their presence in decision-making was so marginal. "If we aren't represented, how will our parliamentarians fight for our rights?" Systemic exclusion A matric student memorizing the complex chain of events leading to the independence struggle and the bloodbath of partition would unwittingly learn one crucial lesson about gender and politics – men shape history while women mourn its consequences. After a group of men demarcated the boundary between Pakistan and India through the Radcliffe Award in 1947, millions of women were suddenly left exposed to rampant abductions, sexual violence, and other atrocities. Some lost their families and homes – others were stripped of both dignity and sanity. Yet none had a say in the political decisions that reshaped their lives forever. According to Zahra Sabri, a Karachi-based activist and academic, the historic role of women in political movements in the subcontinent has been quite weak and has not been representative of their numeric status. "Today, this explains their underrepresentation in the legislative bodies and cabinets," explained Sabri. "Historically, women have been treated as subordinates. In the past, women played a role in politics—as long as they stayed out of mainstream power. Figures like Begum Ra'ana Liaquat, Begum Jahanara Shahnawaz, and Begum Shaista Ikramullah were active but never held real political power. Hence, they were allowed their own spaces and platforms. Otherwise, men have never truly relinquished control," said Zubeida Mustafa, a veteran journalist. Expanding on women's political underrepresentation, Zohra Yusuf, former chairperson of the Human Rights Commission of Pakistan opined that Pakistan had followed a trajectory of regression when it came to women's political rights. "Since the revival of democracy in 1988, women's leadership abilities have been viewed scornfully. While the PML-N is historically known to be male-dominated, sadly this time the PPP in Sindh, going against its previous record, has also ignored women. There are only two women in the Sindh cabinet, and one is Dr Azra Pechuho, who is the President's sister. There is certainly a lack of political will," noted Yusuf. This lack of political will, however, does not mean past regimes made a sincere effort to empower women. Even during former military ruler Pervez Musharraf's tenure, policies that seemingly expanded female representation were less about gender equality and more about political necessity. Capturing the irony, Mustafa said, "When Musharraf introduced the requirement that all lawmakers must have a degree, they couldn't find enough men who met the criteria. And so, the very men who had long kept women from the corridors of power ushered them in—not as leaders, but as placeholders. Even in Parliament, they remained tethered, their voices echoing not their own convictions, but the dictates of fathers, brothers, and husbands. Their seats were theirs in name alone -- real power lay elsewhere." Tokenism and dynastic politics "Men with political power cling stubbornly to their dominion, resisting any real shift in the gendered order of governance. When women manage to wedge a foot in the door, forcing their way into senior cabinet roles, the political elite respond not with acceptance but containment—appointing them to ministries that, in their shrunken, masculinized imagination, seem less consequential." In an interview with the Cambridge Journal of Law, Politics and Art, American feminist political theorist Cynthia Enloe, discussing her book The Big Push, laid bare this patriarchal sustainability formula. Spheres like health, education, and the environment are "feminised," handed over to women, while the weighty affairs of defence, interior, and finance remain tightly gripped by men. The same pattern plays out across Pakistan's cabinet positions. "I would not hesitate to call the decision-making structures in Pakistan misogynistic. There is a lot of lip service to women's equality and rights but tangible steps in accepting them as equals in leadership positions is clearly lacking. Pakistan's political leadership is, in fact, somewhat like the elitist clubs that still keep women out. When given a chance, women have proven to be more effective parliamentarians," said Yusuf. Nevertheless, women's capacity for making meaningful contributions to the domain of governance ultimately boils down to whether or not they are given the opportunity to freely voice their opinions when in a position of power. Hence, when the majority of female incumbents are appointed on the basis of tokenism, it is unreasonable to expect any real change in the androcentric nature of politics. "Women have never truly been given power. Even when we speak of Pakistan's first female prime minister—she had to marry Asif Ali Zardari to craft an image that fit the political template. In many areas, she appeared to lack real decision-making power, often deferring to her husband, who played a dominant role in her administration. When it came to day-to-day governance, I wouldn't say she was a particularly strong leader at the time. This pattern has existed throughout our history, and we have to acknowledge it, no matter how we frame it," Mustafa noted, unveiling the layers of power. Building on Mustafa's argument, Sabri observed that the presence of female heads of state in Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, and Sri Lanka owed more to the endurance of dynastic politics than to the dynamism of the women themselves. "Each and every woman who became a head of state among the mentioned South Asian countries did so by riding on the credentials of a male relative." While Sabri pointed to the dynastic nature of female leadership, Professor Anoosh Khan, Chairperson of the Gender Studies Department at the University of Peshawar, underscored another structural limitation— the lack of autonomy for women selected through the parliamentary quota system. "Once women are in parliament through the quota system, their voices are often silenced since the party leadership dictates their stance on bills, and they cannot speak out against the party's agenda. While women's representation in parliament is important, it is not enough to assume that simply having women in the room will lead to progress for their gender, until or unless they have the opportunity to voice their concerns and contribute meaningfully to policy decisions," opined Dr. Khan. She concluded with a call for equal opportunities in politics, stressing that women's presence in decision-making bodies must go beyond symbolism. One step forward, two steps back Decades after electing its first female prime minister, Pakistan still treads the path of belated milestones—celebrating 'firsts' for women in halls of power, from the Supreme Court to the National Assembly, and now, for the first time, at the helm of its most populous province. "It's the same old performance—just a way to show how progressive and inclusive we are. We celebrate milestones like the 'first female prime minister' or the 'first female Supreme Court justice,' but none of these leaders have actively worked towards structural change. It's about optics, not real commitment," called out Mustafa. Echoing this sentiment, Yusuf described women's political representation—particularly in cabinet positions—as a frustrating cycle of progress and regression. "Even the misogynistic PTI government had several women holding important portfolios in the federal and Punjab cabinets. Now, instead of inching forward, we are witnessing a sharp decline. When women are perceived and treated as second-class citizens, it's hard to imagine them climbing the rungs of political leadership," observed Yusuf. "I have often argued that parties can show magnanimity and put women up as candidates for general seats in constituencies where their win is assured. For instance, the PPP on a Larkana or Nawabshah seat and the PTI on any K-P seat. Women who are currently in leadership positions such as Maryam Nawaz, owe their status to their families, although along the way they may develop qualities of their own," noted Yusuf. Women's inclusion in politics The first step toward gender inclusion in politics is to expose its glaring absence in state structures. Yet, reflecting on past trends or dissecting present practices amounts to little more than an academic exercise unless it is met with a genuine commitment to reshaping the future—one where women's political participation is not just acknowledged but actively championed. "Change has to start somewhere—it won't happen overnight. In some Nordic countries, a minimum 40 percent representation for women was introduced, and now they have even more women in politics, despite shifting toward right-wing policies. Someone has to take the first step," Mustafa insisted, her voice carrying both urgency and hope. But to Yusuf, there is no step forward—only the ground slipping away. "In all my years of activism, from the late '70s to the present, I have never felt such a sense of despondency. We are not making progress but witnessing a sharp decline. The political situation is intrinsically tied to women's rights and status in the country, both of which are deteriorating," she said, the weight of experience evident in her words. Mustafa, however, refused to accept that decline as irreversible. "My answer is always the same—education. We have systematically neglected it because it allows for exploitation. Without education, without critical thinking, people can be deprived of what they deserve. If we had a well-educated society, people would demand equality. But the very concept of equality is missing from our system. Even in our textbooks, there are barely any chapters about women or by women," she argued, the frustration evident in her tone. Knowledge, Sabri contended, was only half the battle. "For decades, universities and the education system have produced dynamic and capable women and men. But where do these meritorious graduates end up? Most either leave for the diaspora or settle into private organizations. Few ever reach Parliament or the cabinets," she said. Until the political culture shifts and the road to power becomes more meritocratic, Sabri argued, it matters little how many competent women emerge—because the system itself remains unwilling to accommodate them. And so, the debate circled back to the inescapable reality. "In the end, it's always about power," Mustafa concluded, "and that power ultimately remains with men." With additional contributions from Wisal Yousafzai, Razzak Abro, Muhammad Ilyas, and Mahnoor Tahir

Dowry wrapped in welfare
Dowry wrapped in welfare

Express Tribune

time16-03-2025

  • Politics
  • Express Tribune

Dowry wrapped in welfare

Imagine a hypothetical village where countless impoverished families are suffering under the dominance of a local mafia, which openly extorts money for fulfilling their basic needs. Finally, the state decides to interfere and rescue the oppressed people. However, contrary to popular expectations, instead of arresting the goons, the state simply gives a cheque to the extorter on behalf of the families and exits the situation, declaring itself a hero. Not much different is the role of the Punjab government in reinforcing the oppressive dowry culture through its Dhee Rani Program. Launched under the supervision of Chief Minister Maryam Nawaz, the Punjab Dhee Rani Program aims to enable deserving parents to fulfil the socio-religious obligation of their daughter's marriage in a dignified manner. For this, eligible low-income brides will be given a dowry worth Rs206,000 including a wooden double bed with a mattress, mirror, dinner set etc. alongside a separate marriage gift of Rs100,000 disbursed through a debit card. Despite its apparent sense of goodwill, the project has come under fire for indirectly promoting the vice of dowry, which is a major cause of women's subordinated status in the country. Critiquing the project, Mumtaz Mughal, Director of the Aurat Foundation, believed that it was not the job of the government to get daughters married. 'Such measures will not end poverty. The government should focus on imparting education and skills to girls so that they can become economically independent,' suggested Mughal. According to Anbreen Ajaib, Executive Director at Bedari, the Dhee Rani Program is a regressive step that reinforces gender stereotypes and diverts attention from the real issues faced by women in Pakistan. 'Instead of facilitating marriages, the government should invest in policies that empower girls through education, employment opportunities, and financial independence. A more progressive approach would be to launch initiatives that support women entrepreneurs, provide scholarships for higher education, and establish job training programs to integrate women into the workforce. The Punjab government should reassess its priorities and redirect resources toward breaking societal barriers that hinder women's progress,' implored Ajaib. On a similar note, Nida Usman Chaudhry, Head of the Women in Law Initiative and lawyer at the Lahore High Court believed that programs like the Punjab Dhee Rani were tantamount to exacerbating the curse of dowry. 'This initiative might benefit a few hundred women but at the end of the day, it will promote the culture of dowry,' shrugged Chaudhry. Dowry and the burden of daughters Try conversing with any destitute beneficiary of a welfare initiative, and just two minutes into the conversation they will highlight the fact that they have two, three or four unmarried daughters or sisters. It's almost as if having unmarried female kin at home is solid evidence for the kind of financial strain they are facing. All thanks to the dowry culture. 'The dowry culture is one of the key factors that reinforces the perception of daughters as financial burdens. Parents often see their daughters' marriages as expensive obligations rather than joyful milestones, leading to widespread gender discrimination even before a girl is born,' observed Ajaib. According to a report published by the Guttmacher Institute, large demands for dowry and women's low labour force participation in Pakistan, have instigated a widespread culture of son preference, where parents often view daughters as financial burdens, hoping instead to have sons. 'The financial strain of dowry compels families to prioritise having sons, who are seen as assets, while daughters are viewed as liabilities. The societal pressure to provide dowries places undue stress on families, sometimes pushing them into debt. It also increases the likelihood of child marriages, as parents try to 'settle' their daughters early to minimise the financial burden,' said Ajaib. Likewise, Abdullah Malik, lawyer at the Lahore High Court and leader of the Civil Society Network Pakistan was of the opinion that the culture of hosting big fat weddings was equally to blame for the treatment of women as burdens. 'Therefore, fines should be imposed on those who hold luxury wedding ceremonies. The amount collected should be used to impart skills to low-income women,' opined Malik, who further revealed that he will challenge the Dhee Rani Program in court. Sexist language and girl's marriage In the Pakistani society, sexist language is commonly used to shame unmarried girls surpassing their twenties. While some unabashedly talk about women hitting their 'expiration date', others sympathetically highlight their reduced chances of success in the marriage market. However, what one would not expect is the state stepping in and slyly propagating the same misogynistic beliefs by sugarcoating them as welfare. Citing the primary motivation for the Dhee Rani Program, the Provincial Minister for Social Welfare and Baitul Mal Sohail Shaukat Butt shed light on the fact that 13.5 million low-income girls were apparently 'sitting at home' since their families were unable to fulfil the grooms' demands for dowry. Apart from indirectly reinforcing the dowry culture, the terminology used implied that unmarried women, irrespective of their academic achievements, professional success or personal choice of singlehood, were nothing but a passive burden on their families and the nation. Surprisingly, such blunt, metaphorical phrases have rarely, if ever, been used by state officials to draw attention to the dilemma of female illiteracy, under which millions of school-aged girls are literally 'sitting at home'. According to a report published by the Pakistan Institute of Education (PIE), more than 11.7 million children are out of school in Punjab, of which 43 per cent, or 5 million are girls. Anbreen Ajaib, Member of the Global Advisory Group of the Girls Not Brides Alliance, felt that the terminology used by the government reflected a deeply entrenched societal bias that viewed girls primarily as future brides rather than individuals with aspirations and potential. 'Marriage should be a personal choice, not a state-sponsored obligation. If the government genuinely wants to empower women, it should focus on increasing access to quality education, vocational training, and employment opportunities, rather than financing early marriages. The language used is only a reflection of the inveterate belief that marriage is more important than education,' observed Ajaib. Abandon education, embrace subservience From insurance companies to household appliance sellers, the arrival of the wedding season is the perfect time to remind anxious parents of the urgent need to alleviate the burdens on their shoulders; their unmarried daughters. In such a scenario, underage daughters with meagre education and minimal bargaining power are often rushed into matrimony, only to spend the rest of their lives in dutiful obedience. Take for instance the case of Naila. Married to a boy of her father's liking after finishing intermediate, Naila was gaslighted into believing that marriage alone was the ultimate lifetime achievement for women. While the initial glamour of dolling up was good fun, over time the monotony of married life started haunting her. With no school to attend and no career to build, she would spend the entire day performing menial household chores, while simultaneously dodging the snide remarks made by her mother-in-law. Naila had absolutely no say in the household matters. From what she would eat for lunch to the clothes she would wear for Eid and even the number of children she would have, everything was micro-managed by her husband's family. After all, she was considered too young to make her own decisions. Envying the freedom of her unmarried friends, she too dreamt of escaping her suffocating marriage. Naila's story offers a glimpse into the harsh reality of what lies beyond the façade of a happily ever after. According to the findings of a study conducted by the World Bank Economic Review in Bangladesh, early marriages have been associated with a significantly reduced bargaining power for the bride in the post-marriage household, hindering her from seeking education, entering the labour force, accessing household income and determining the size of her family alongside negotiating other important aspects of her life. Therefore, the parental decision to marry their daughter's young, restrained their bargaining strength while worsening gender inequality in the household. 'The society's obsession with girls' marriage, rather than education or economic independence, forces many young girls into early marriages, often at the cost of their academic and professional growth. This mind-set not only curtails their career opportunities but also perpetuates economic dependence and gender inequality,' noted Ajaib, who believed that outdated stereotypes stipulating marriage and household management as the primary role of women acted as structural barriers to female education and employment. According to the Pakistan Demographic and Health Survey (PDHS) 2017-18, the mean age of marriage for women in Pakistan is between 19.4 and 20.0 years while the average age at first pregnancy is 22.8 years. Sadly, at these ages most women have not even completed their undergraduate degrees let alone pursued higher education or developed a career plan. Analysing wider trends in women's attainment of higher education and their labour force participation, the cultural barriers subduing women's agency are evident. Data obtained from the Pakistan Institute of Developmental Economics (PIDE), showed that just 7.4 per cent of women hold a doctoral degree in Pakistan, compared to 23.4 per cent of men. Similarly, figures from the Asian Development Bank have demonstrated that despite the gradual increase in female employment, only 25 per cent of women take up paid work after graduating from university. Given such an abysmal scenario, the Punjab government's decision to prioritise spending on girls' marriage as opposed to improving their access to education or facilitating their representation in the economic and political spheres is simply regrettable. 'Financial assistance programs should focus on providing economic relief to families irrespective of gender, and investments should be made in initiatives that enable girls to realise their full potential rather than pushing them into early marriage. It goes without saying that the law against child marriages is already weak in Punjab and despite the directives from the Lahore High Court over revising this law, the government has not taken any steps in this direction. A strong nation is built on empowered women, not on outdated customs that keep them confined to traditional roles,' urged Ajaib. Trading dreams for gold? While programs like Dhee Rani are a classic example of misogyny seeping into patriarchal state structures, they are nevertheless a reflection of the broader societal ethos, which convinces even educated parents to trade in their daughters' priceless dreams for a few pricey pieces of gold. Maheen*, a 22-year old engineer, dreamt of pursuing a career in aerospace engineering. Living in a society where the field of STEM is largely dominated by men, her bent for physics and mathematics had allowed her to not only challenge gender stereotypes but also dream of one day exploring the thrilling mysteries of space and time. However, her parents had other plans. Every year, on her birthday, she would be gifted a new gold bracelet, ring or necklace, not realising that these lavish tokens of love came at the cost of her childhood dreams. Upon sharing her desire to pursue further studies abroad, she was openly told by her parents that the savings reserved for her were solely for the purpose of collecting gold jewelry for her marriage. Although Maheen was fortunate to study up until the undergraduate level, for millions of girls across the country, parent's decision to save money for their future dowry as opposed to investing in their education prevents them from finishing even basic schooling. The primary reason behind this mind-set is the pervasive belief that view's daughters' futures solely in terms of marriage. According to Naveed Rana, a well-known jeweler based in a posh area in Lahore, girls' families belonging to the lower class generally purchase gold jewelry worth Rs0.3 to Rs0.4 million, those from the middle-class spend up to Rs1.4 to Rs1.5 million while those belonging to the elite class end up spending tens of millions of rupees. 'The prioritisation of jewellery over education is deeply rooted in the belief that a girl's ultimate security lies in her marriage and the wealth she carries into it. Interestingly, parents focus on gathering dowry for their daughters, but do not think of giving them their share in inheritance. Furthermore, many parents fear that without sufficient gold and dowry, their daughters will not find suitable matches or will be mistreated by their in-laws. This mind-set must be challenged by shifting the narrative from marriage security to economic security,' revealed Ajaib, an Islamabad-based women's rights activist. Naseem's* story is here to prove Ajaib's point. Hailing from an affluent family, Naseem got married just after finishing her A 'levels. In order to ensure her financial security, her parents had gifted her gold jewellery amounting to millions of rupees. Some time after marriage, her husband started suffering losses in his business and gradually Naseem had to sell all her jewellery items to pay for her children's school fee or basic household needs. 'If only my parents had invested in my higher education instead of spending so much on gold, I would have had a more sustainable source of income to support my family during the difficult times. No matter how much gold a daughter is given at marriage, it eventually runs out,' regretted Naseem. Agreeing with Naseem, Ajaib was of the opinion that when a girl was educated, skilled, and financially independent, she did not need gold to secure her future since she could carve her own path. 'Therefore, the government and civil society must run awareness campaigns that highlight success stories of educated women who have excelled in their careers. Additionally, financial incentives for girls' education, scholarships, and career counselling should be promoted to change parental priorities from jewellery accumulation to investment in their daughters' futures,' urged Ajaib. Battling the dowry culture Despite popular backlash and various legal rulings, the dowry culture has persisted across the subcontinent, with countless women and their families still battling its dire financial repercussions. While many have resisted the regressive practice through social media and public awareness campaigns, the inherent vagueness in the laws allows the practice to covertly continue. According to the Dowry and Bridal Gifts (Restriction) Act, passed in 1976, and amended in 2016, no groom or any relative of the groom can demand dowry. However, according to the Act, 'gifts' worth up to Rs50,000 can be given to the bride. A similar justification was presented by the Minister for Social Welfare, who claimed that the Dhee Rani Program was not promoting dowry but was only offering essential items to the brides as 'gifts'. 'Regardless of what you call the items given on the occasion of marriage, they are still considered dowry and cannot be supported. Therefore, it is better if state resources are spent on the education and skills of girls so that they can become independent,' urged Chaudhry. On the other side of border, in neighbouring India too, the immutable vice of dowry has persisted despite its criminalisation under the Dowry Prohibition Act of 1961, giving birth to a host of equally evil customs arising as a response to the oppressive culture. In the state of Bihar, an amusing yet outrageous practice known as 'pakadwa vivah' or groom kidnapping is allegedly used by girls' families to deal with avaricious grooms, who call off the wedding when their exorbitant demands for dowry are not met. With the help of local goons, the bride's family abducts the defiant groom, coercing him to take the nuptial vows at gun point. In the case of Muslim-majority Pakistan, Ajaib was of the belief that since Islam explicitly rejects dowry, mandating instead that the husband give mahr to his wife as a symbol of respect and financial security, religious leaders should take a stronger stance against the practice. 'Religious authorities wield significant influence over public opinion and social norms. Unfortunately, many religious leaders remain silent or selectively enforce religious teachings, failing to challenge harmful cultural practices,' she opined. 'To combat the dowry culture, religious institutions should integrate anti-dowry messages into sermons, Friday prayers, and madrasa curriculums while advocating for legislative reforms that penalise dowry demands and encourage marriages based on Islamic principles of mutual respect and consent. Challenging the dowry culture requires systemic efforts, including stricter enforcement of laws against dowry demands, awareness campaigns, and promoting the economic participation of women to shift perceptions about their value in society,' concluded Ajaib, an expert on social justice. *Names have been changed to protect identity

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