By Harsha Grover

On a recent field visit to Baghpat, Uttar Pradesh as a part of my coursework for Policy Action Lab, I had the chance to survey residents on the democratic condition of India, particularly in light of the results of the latest Lok Sabha elections. The survey was meant to understand individual opinions about democracy and capture the person’s thoughts and experiences. While conducting surveys on gender in the field, one interaction left me thinking deeply about the dynamics of autonomy, gender and voice. It was a moment that brought Slyvia Walby’s concept of patriarchy, which she defines as ‘a system of social structures and practices, in which men dominate, oppress and exploit women.’ vividly to life.

I was surveying a middle-aged woman who replied, “Fill my survey the same as what my husband said because my opinion is the same as his.” At first, I assumed it might just be a matter of convenience, maybe even a gesture of deference. But as I probed further, she explained, “He knows politics best and hence, whatever is his opinion is also my opinion.”

This response seems unusual for a survey that aims to understand personal perspectives. Still, in that brief conversation, I witnessed a nuanced example of what Walby expresses in her book ‘Theorizing Patriarchy’ (1990). Slyvia Walby’s theory of patriarchy emphasises that men not only dominate the formal structure of power in society (politics, economics or law) but also shape the very framework of thought and agency in private spaces, creating a system of “public” and “private” patriarchy. Through this lens, even deeply personal matters, such as individual opinions on democracy, are often underpinned by the structure prioritising male voices as more credible or informed.

This woman’s political opinions had become an extension of her husband’s perspective. Her faith in his political knowledge went beyond respect, and it reflected a norm that she internalised over time, that his political understanding was somehow more legitimate and valuable. While she spoke with warmth, trust and respect, this situation highlights how patriarchy can reach deeply into the private lives. This was not just about who had more on-ground political and economic information, it was more about who had the power to hold and express an independent opinion.

Walby identifies the household as one of the six primary structures where patriarchy operates alongside the State, paid work, violence, sexuality and culture. What stayed with me about this interaction was how the two of these structures the household and the state, intersected here. The household and the State (the subject matter of the survey) were interwoven in a way that subordinated her voice to his. The woman’s trust in her husband’s perspective had subtly but powerfully shaped her sense of political agency, just as Walby argues that these structures do not function in isolation; instead, they intersect and overlap, reinforcing patriarchal norms.

This particular encounter stayed with me because it reminded me that democracy, in theory, thrives on diverse, independent voices. However, in practice, the individual agency, especially that of a woman, is often shaped by a complex mix of power dynamics within families, communities and societal norms. The above interaction serves as a testament to the way patriarchy operates not only within formal political spaces like government halls or public offices but also how it seeps into the fabric of everyday life. Patriarchy, in this sense, doesn’t just dominate political structure; it also governs the politics of daily life.

Through this experience, I realised that field surveys are more than just a collection of responses. It was a reflection of layered identities, experiences and sometimes silences. Slyvia Walby’s work has been invaluable in helping me understand that democracy, as a system, is only as inclusive as the individual voices it allows to be heard. In a world where individual voice can be a shared opinion, Walby’s insights remain as relevant as ever and prompt us to examine who holds the right to speak and who is genuinely heard.