The news from Liechtenstein, a tiny principality nestled between Switzerland and Austria, might at first glance appear a cause for quiet celebration. We hear that on their national day, a declaration was made: women can now ascend the throne. For a country of just 44,000 souls, this internal shift in dynastic succession is, for some, a step forward in an age-old tradition. But for those of us who observe the unfolding narratives of human dignity and equity across the Global South, this news rings with a certain quiet irony, prompting us to ask: a step forward for whom, and what does it truly signify?
My work takes me to places where the struggle for fundamental rights is not about who inherits a crown, but who can inherit land, who can control their own body, who can access education, who can escape the daily grind of poverty exacerbated by colonial legacies and crushing debt. I think of the women I’ve met in rural Ghana, in the bustling markets of Lima, or in the textile factories of Bangladesh – their aspirations for their daughters are far more immediate, far more foundational, than the chance to wear a tiara. They seek not symbolic power in gilded halls, but tangible power in their homes, their communities, their nations.
The discourse around "progress" often fixates on visible, often European, milestones. We applaud when old institutions, rooted in patriarchal norms, finally crack open a window. And yes, in isolation, the notion that a daughter can now inherit a throne previously reserved for sons is better than the alternative. It acknowledges a basic truth: worth and capability are not dictated by gender. Yet, to frame this as a significant victory for women’s rights, without acknowledging the vast disparities that persist globally, feels disingenuous, almost a distraction. It's like celebrating a lavish dessert when many are still waiting for bread.
Consider the countless women in the Global South for whom the struggle is not about inheriting a medieval title, but about escaping systems that actively deny them agency. These are the women organizing at the grassroots, challenging entrenched corruption that siphons resources from their communities, fighting for environmental justice against extractive industries that poison their water and land, or simply striving to earn a living wage without exploitation. Their battles are not about ascending to a symbolic peak, but about building an equitable foundation for all.
When we speak of leadership, we must look beyond ceremonial roles. True leadership, the kind that transforms lives, is found in the everyday resilience and political organizing of women across the Global South. It is in the indigenous women defending ancestral territories, the women forming cooperatives to gain economic independence, the activists demanding an end to gender-based violence, or the community leaders building schools and clinics where governments have failed. These are the unsung monarchs of real change, wielding influence not through birthright, but through tireless effort and collective action.
For the people of Liechtenstein, this change may indeed represent a shift in national identity, a modernization of an ancient tradition. And that, in its own context, holds meaning. But for the rest of us, especially those witnessing the immense challenges faced by the majority of the world's women, it serves as a stark reminder: the metrics of true progress must always center on the lived experiences of the most vulnerable.
So, while we note the news from Liechtenstein, let us not mistake a slight adjustment in a distant, gilded cage for the breaking of chains that bind millions. Let our moral insistence remain focused on the fundamental dignities and rights that allow every woman, everywhere, to inherit not a crown, but a life of true freedom, agency, and opportunity. That is the succession we should all truly champion.