The Palestinian Hamas: Vision, Violence, and Coexistence, is a controversial Israeli, analysis of Hamas. In Israel and the West, Hamas is generally identified with terrorism and jihad. This book however offers a revisionist argument. Mishal and Sela deconstruct the image of Hamas as a group of desperate terrorists who are detached from reality. Rather, they see Hamas as a movement that has displayed reasonableness and complexity, where the decision making process is based on cost-benefit considerations and the complicated, intertwined dilemma’s that have surrounded Hamas forced its leaders to adopt a policy that enabled the movement to maneuver within political reality without losing its ideological background.
When the first edition of the book was written Hamas had decided to prefer Palestinian unity instead of deciding between remaining on the sidelines as a hard-liner or participating in the political arena. Hamas got the freedom to make this decision from the Palestinian Authority (PA) who rather co-opted with their opposition instead of crushing it.
The book was reprinted however after the victory of Hamas in the recent Palestinian elections. According to Mashal and Sela this victory can be explained by social and economic considerations of the Palestinian electorate rather than ideological identification with the Islamic movement’s political agenda. Even though Hamas was one of the leading military forces in the second Intifadah these military activities could be matched by other groups such as the al-Aqsa Martyrs. But none of these groups, not even the PA, could compete with Hamas’s system of social services. According to the authors Hamas was filling a governmental void, which in some respects resembles the Western notion of a civil society. This would also explain why a large number if Christian Palestinians voted for Hamas in the recent elections. Of course we cannot tell how the relation between the new Hamas led government and the Israeli government is going to develop. Especially with the recent conflict between Israel and Lebanon and the fighting between supporters of Fatah and Hamas it is hard to make a prediction. The future will show whether the new Islamic government in Palestine will succeed and if they will deviate from their original course to come to a peace agreement with Israel.
The articles on Egypt and Turkey also deal with Political Islam. It is interesting to see how Political Islam develops in the various countries all with a different political background. In Turkey, a country with a democratic tradition, though strongly controlled by the military, the Islamic AK party managed to become the biggest party in the 2002 elections. Previous Islamic parties have been successfully banned from politics, but reemerged after a period in which they reframed their message in response to their perceived opportunities and constrains. This process resulted in a moderated Islamic regime which government agenda focuses on economic and educational reforms, counter-corruption measures, and promotion of Turkey’s bid to join the European Union. According to the author what eventually emerged as the moderate-looking AK-party was the result of many years of strategic response to horizontal (e.g. judicial or military) constrains on the movement’s political behavior and democratic experimentation by the party’s leader in an attempt to gain power.
The story of Political Islam in Egypt is very different. The chapter studies the Hizb al-Wasat, a group of moderately orientated Islamists attempting to gain power by playing by the democratic rules of the game in Egypt. Despite its failure to gain legal status the party is noteworthy for its embrace of religious toleration and its rejection of a privileged interpretation of religion. The problem was however that opposition parties under authoritarian regimes such as in Egypt only have a decorative function and a narrow political bases. Their ideas hardly ever find any response from the regime. And to my opinion the result of the oppression of these moderate Islamic parties could result in radicalization.
The three readings sketch various scenarios of the development of Political Islam in the Middle East. The Turkish example shows that under the right circumstances it is possible for an Islamic party to gain power and not radicalize but to be Islamic as well as democratic and orientated towards the West. In Palestine we have to wait and see in which direction the Islamic government will develop itself but as the book by Mashal and Sela argues, history has showed that Hamas is prepared to change its program. The main question is however to what extend and will they remain as democratic and free of corruption as they promised after all they are still a radical Islamic group. In Egypt the political climate is non-democratic and this makes it almost impossible for any party, Islamic or not, to gain any power. In this country the Islamic organizations usually try to gain power on the informal level creating a network of goods and services and gained quite a lot of power in this way.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Robert Bianchi, Guests of God
As one of the central tenets of the Islamic faith, the Hajj is, at its most basic level, a religious phenomenon. Millions of people travel to Mecca each year to express and celebrate their faith and fulfill an extremely important obligation deeply steeped in religious history, symbolism, and practice. However, the vast numbers who make the pilgrimage, the enormous sums of money exchanged for their transportation, accommodations, and other expenses, and the cross-national interactions involved in managing these human and capital flows create major political implications that go well beyond the Hajj’s core spiritual purpose. Robert Bianchi’s book Guests of God undertakes an impressive study of the organization of the Hajj, how official government agencies are created to manage it, and the success and failure of political actors to use these organizations of Hajj policy to mobilize support for other purposes.
From an idealistic perspective, the functions of these agencies primarily fall in two categories: religious purposes (ensuring that as many people as possible will be able to complete this important task, and that first-time Hajjis are given precedence over those wishing to make repeated visits) and practical purposes (balancing the enormous numbers of people that want to go with the restrictions of space at the holy sites and national quotas). But as Bianchi notes, there are inevitably attempts by leaders to manipulate the system to increase their power, and the system itself is often created for these more cynical ends. Hajj accounts can be utilized as a source of revenue, and, more critically, governments can subsidize Hajjis or discriminatorily select those who get to make the trip in order to build political patronage in Muslim communities.
Bianchi argues that in addition to being a crass bastardization of a sacred religious institution, such efforts are “politically self-defeating,” and that manipulating the process for political advantage will be “quickly outweighed by losses of legitimacy and credibility” (p. 6). By carefully examining the history of political pressures around Hajj agencies in Pakistan, Malaysia, Turkey, Indonesia, and Nigeria he demonstrates that attempts at manipulation often lead to a backlash from non-Muslim communities and generate only marginal appreciation from those they benefit. Populations that lose see support for the Hajj as favoritism and thus oppose it, while populations that win take it for granted, and thus don’t offer significant electoral rewards. In the long run, Bianchi contends, the interference and favoritism hurts governmental credibility and legitimacy, and doesn’t bring about the intended effects. While he presents impressive evidence that such manipulations sometimes have large downsides, and can be prone to difficulty, he fails to convincingly demonstrate that these efforts will always fail politicians, either in his specific cases or as an abstract position.
Although in none of the countries was Hajj management a clean an easy tool for actors to build political power, in none of the countries was it entirely useless either. Attempts to court specific electoral groups or establish Islamic credibility of major figures did meet with some success in certain instances. They certainly weren’t successful in every case, and often the gains were short lived and came at the cost of increasing religious factionalism, but they did occasionally serve as effective, albeit limited, means for accomplishing political goals. Politicians won in areas where they would otherwise have lost, or at least mounted strong challenges where they otherwise might not have received any support. Further, stepping back to the more general question of whether Hajj policies could in theory be a tool to build political patronage, limited successes doesn’t necessarily imply the impossibility of greater success – the failures might simply be a result of the difficulty of managing complex political pressures in the cases where it was tried, and of imperfect efforts to do so. It is certainly a common practice (particularly in countries with a single dominant religion) for regimes to attempt to control religious institutions and symbols to increase their own power, either by positioning themselves within that community to generate support or by coercing the institutions into taking positions that justify and legitimate government policies. While this is a fine line that state leaders must walk to use religious institutions to advance their causes without controlling them so much that they lose the respect of the people (and thus become useless), it is a balance that can be achieved, at least within limited time periods or limited policy areas. Often, particularly in the case of states that frequently face major crises, short-term political tools may have to take precedence over long-run considerations. Thus, manipulating Hajj agencies may be an invaluable tool for politicians to use to achieve their ends in some cases.
Bianchi is therefore correct to argue that attempts to build patronage through Hajj policies are risky, and that they may not always have the intended consequences, but he is not necessarily right to dismiss them entirely as a potentially effective means of achieving political ends. Although the historical record is at best mixed, there still appear to be certain situations within his cases where politicians have successfully used the Hajj to advance their aims, and ultimately the limitations of previous attempts to wield it as a tool don’t necessarily demonstrate the impossibility that it could be used in that way. The very fact that it has been tried so often suggests that policy makers, at least, believe it can be useful. It seems likely that they are sometimes correct.
From an idealistic perspective, the functions of these agencies primarily fall in two categories: religious purposes (ensuring that as many people as possible will be able to complete this important task, and that first-time Hajjis are given precedence over those wishing to make repeated visits) and practical purposes (balancing the enormous numbers of people that want to go with the restrictions of space at the holy sites and national quotas). But as Bianchi notes, there are inevitably attempts by leaders to manipulate the system to increase their power, and the system itself is often created for these more cynical ends. Hajj accounts can be utilized as a source of revenue, and, more critically, governments can subsidize Hajjis or discriminatorily select those who get to make the trip in order to build political patronage in Muslim communities.
Bianchi argues that in addition to being a crass bastardization of a sacred religious institution, such efforts are “politically self-defeating,” and that manipulating the process for political advantage will be “quickly outweighed by losses of legitimacy and credibility” (p. 6). By carefully examining the history of political pressures around Hajj agencies in Pakistan, Malaysia, Turkey, Indonesia, and Nigeria he demonstrates that attempts at manipulation often lead to a backlash from non-Muslim communities and generate only marginal appreciation from those they benefit. Populations that lose see support for the Hajj as favoritism and thus oppose it, while populations that win take it for granted, and thus don’t offer significant electoral rewards. In the long run, Bianchi contends, the interference and favoritism hurts governmental credibility and legitimacy, and doesn’t bring about the intended effects. While he presents impressive evidence that such manipulations sometimes have large downsides, and can be prone to difficulty, he fails to convincingly demonstrate that these efforts will always fail politicians, either in his specific cases or as an abstract position.
Although in none of the countries was Hajj management a clean an easy tool for actors to build political power, in none of the countries was it entirely useless either. Attempts to court specific electoral groups or establish Islamic credibility of major figures did meet with some success in certain instances. They certainly weren’t successful in every case, and often the gains were short lived and came at the cost of increasing religious factionalism, but they did occasionally serve as effective, albeit limited, means for accomplishing political goals. Politicians won in areas where they would otherwise have lost, or at least mounted strong challenges where they otherwise might not have received any support. Further, stepping back to the more general question of whether Hajj policies could in theory be a tool to build political patronage, limited successes doesn’t necessarily imply the impossibility of greater success – the failures might simply be a result of the difficulty of managing complex political pressures in the cases where it was tried, and of imperfect efforts to do so. It is certainly a common practice (particularly in countries with a single dominant religion) for regimes to attempt to control religious institutions and symbols to increase their own power, either by positioning themselves within that community to generate support or by coercing the institutions into taking positions that justify and legitimate government policies. While this is a fine line that state leaders must walk to use religious institutions to advance their causes without controlling them so much that they lose the respect of the people (and thus become useless), it is a balance that can be achieved, at least within limited time periods or limited policy areas. Often, particularly in the case of states that frequently face major crises, short-term political tools may have to take precedence over long-run considerations. Thus, manipulating Hajj agencies may be an invaluable tool for politicians to use to achieve their ends in some cases.
Bianchi is therefore correct to argue that attempts to build patronage through Hajj policies are risky, and that they may not always have the intended consequences, but he is not necessarily right to dismiss them entirely as a potentially effective means of achieving political ends. Although the historical record is at best mixed, there still appear to be certain situations within his cases where politicians have successfully used the Hajj to advance their aims, and ultimately the limitations of previous attempts to wield it as a tool don’t necessarily demonstrate the impossibility that it could be used in that way. The very fact that it has been tried so often suggests that policy makers, at least, believe it can be useful. It seems likely that they are sometimes correct.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
History, Society, and Economy in Middle Eastern/North African Development
The major objective of Alan Richards and John Waterbury in their Political Economy of the Middle East is to explain development and growth in the Middle East/North Africa (MENA) – how it appears now, how it got to that point, and the prospects for the future. They undertake an ambitious project examining data on all aspects of Middle Eastern state and society – using general quantifiable measures of income, education, and other factors, detailed case study investigations, and extensive historical background. In doing this, they hope to provide a comprehensive picture of the circumstances in the region, and to situate it within two comparative contexts: the comparison with the region’s past (how things have changed over the past several decades) and the comparison with other countries at similar levels of income, industrialization, and development (how MENA looks in relation to the rest of the world). The overarching theme and conclusions they come to – that development has come a long way and greatly benefited the region but still has significant challenges ahead of it and in many areas lags behind comparable areas – is valuable, and their approach raises a number of interesting questions.
Specifically, while the authors don’t explicitly frame it in this way, they seem to present three broad classes of explanation – historical, social/cultural, and political-economic – in their assessment of how circumstances have been shaped and will continue to be shaped in the future. In their account these three factors combine to make up what they see as the problems as well as the promise of the current situation in the Middle East/North Africa.
The first frame, historical analysis, traces the log-term trends within individual states and the region as a whole, and sees this as the formative factor in the direction of events. A number of their arguments feel historically deterministic – something happened because such and such was the case before it, which in turn happened because such and such was the case before that. This paints a picture of development as a steady evolution, with the natural course of events being to proceed as it did. Undeniably this perspective has some merit – the remnants of colonial imperialism, independence movements, and regime changes (both gradual and sudden) have a powerful impact on the ongoing development and growth of the region, and historical legacies are a powerful factor in shaping the situation today. However, one ought to be cautions about attributing too much agency to history, since it implies that the path taken was the only possible path, and it overlooks important other factors that can contribute to the direction of progress. It fails to fully consider the social, cultural, political, and economic forces that shape both the history and the current situation.
The next broad category of explanations is social and cultural. The Middle East/North Africa is a region with a number of very strong and deeply felt ideological foundations, and many practical situations can be viewed as having their roots in the influences of Islam (or other religions), tribal affiliations, cultural norms, or other societal rules and customs. These arguments attempt to explain the way MENA societies function internally as well as in relation to each other as a product of the beliefs and attitudes their people hold about the world. Education and employment patterns, health and wellness levels, and demographic trends often appear to have roots in, among other explanations, the role and socioeconomic status of women in current Middle Eastern Islamic societies, and understanding the trends and possibilities of the situation requires understanding the cultural backdrop that shapes them.
Finally, the third analytical perspective the authors present includes political-economical explanations. Actions, events, and circumstances are the output of the behavior of individuals and groups acting in accordance with their interests and seeking to protect their welfare and get the best possible outcome for themselves. This approaches focuses on the different actors with influence, what resources they can mobilize for development, and what incentives they have to do so. Income and wealth distributions are seen as powerfully affecting the path of development because they determine which actors have the resources to make changes happen and which actors will stand to gain (and which will lose) from possible reforms.
While the three categories of historical, social/cultural, and political-economic explanations seem critical to Richards and Waterbury’s understanding of the region, they are not explicitly articulated and it is often not apparent what degree of influence each carries in each situation. Future research along these lines ought to clarify this relationship, and draw out the distinctions between causes and elaborate both the role that these types of factors individually play as well as how they interact with each other.
Specifically, while the authors don’t explicitly frame it in this way, they seem to present three broad classes of explanation – historical, social/cultural, and political-economic – in their assessment of how circumstances have been shaped and will continue to be shaped in the future. In their account these three factors combine to make up what they see as the problems as well as the promise of the current situation in the Middle East/North Africa.
The first frame, historical analysis, traces the log-term trends within individual states and the region as a whole, and sees this as the formative factor in the direction of events. A number of their arguments feel historically deterministic – something happened because such and such was the case before it, which in turn happened because such and such was the case before that. This paints a picture of development as a steady evolution, with the natural course of events being to proceed as it did. Undeniably this perspective has some merit – the remnants of colonial imperialism, independence movements, and regime changes (both gradual and sudden) have a powerful impact on the ongoing development and growth of the region, and historical legacies are a powerful factor in shaping the situation today. However, one ought to be cautions about attributing too much agency to history, since it implies that the path taken was the only possible path, and it overlooks important other factors that can contribute to the direction of progress. It fails to fully consider the social, cultural, political, and economic forces that shape both the history and the current situation.
The next broad category of explanations is social and cultural. The Middle East/North Africa is a region with a number of very strong and deeply felt ideological foundations, and many practical situations can be viewed as having their roots in the influences of Islam (or other religions), tribal affiliations, cultural norms, or other societal rules and customs. These arguments attempt to explain the way MENA societies function internally as well as in relation to each other as a product of the beliefs and attitudes their people hold about the world. Education and employment patterns, health and wellness levels, and demographic trends often appear to have roots in, among other explanations, the role and socioeconomic status of women in current Middle Eastern Islamic societies, and understanding the trends and possibilities of the situation requires understanding the cultural backdrop that shapes them.
Finally, the third analytical perspective the authors present includes political-economical explanations. Actions, events, and circumstances are the output of the behavior of individuals and groups acting in accordance with their interests and seeking to protect their welfare and get the best possible outcome for themselves. This approaches focuses on the different actors with influence, what resources they can mobilize for development, and what incentives they have to do so. Income and wealth distributions are seen as powerfully affecting the path of development because they determine which actors have the resources to make changes happen and which actors will stand to gain (and which will lose) from possible reforms.
While the three categories of historical, social/cultural, and political-economic explanations seem critical to Richards and Waterbury’s understanding of the region, they are not explicitly articulated and it is often not apparent what degree of influence each carries in each situation. Future research along these lines ought to clarify this relationship, and draw out the distinctions between causes and elaborate both the role that these types of factors individually play as well as how they interact with each other.
Goldernberg
I. State -- Society
In order to understand political outcomes such a dictatorship, democracy & development, state-society scholars contend that political, social and ideational life cannot be understood as purely reflecting economic phenomenon. (Kohli, 2002:86) Rather, state and society are both autonomous from one another but also “mutually constitutive”. (ibid, citing Bendix 1962:286-90) What does this mean for researchers?
First, most state-society scholars are committed to generalizable knowledge at the middle level of analysis, avoiding on the one hand grand structural claims, and at the other hand specific details of empirical situations as an end in itself. For example, Wiktorowicz studies the manipulation of Islamic symbols by the state in order to understand how the Jordanian regime regulates religion in order to manage collective action. (Wiktorowicz, 46) Generalizations from such case-studies do not necessarily apply to all regimes or even to the Jordanian regime in all periods. Rather, the generalizations from this case are used to incrementally refine middle-range contingent generalizations, which are then applied back to within case generalizations (the Jordanian regime at other times) and to other cases. (George & Bennett, 2005: 123-4)
Second, social reality is sui generis. (Kohli, 2002:89) Social formations must be studied in part independently from the individuals who created them. In other words, social and political reality must be studied as more than simply the aggregation of individual actions. The fluctuating bargain between al-Azhar and the Egyptian state is not merely a product of maneuvers by respective leaders. Rather, leaders emerge from and react to social forces. Third, political structures are influenced by social dynamics but are not simply determined by them. For example, political outcomes, such as al-Azhar policy in the mid-1990s, is influenced in part by social forces (Islamists) and in part by political factors (the state).
Fourth, interests are neither socially constructed, nor are they permanently fixed in stone. Ideas/institutions and economic interests mutually condition one another. Both must be taken into account for a full analysis of political outcomes. Wedeen fills a gap in this approach by exploring how we may measure ways that ideas condition political outcomes. Incorporating the causal influence of ideas into models of political outcomes is difficult since we cannot get into the heads of political actors. For example, we cannot test whether a given state action (such as coopting al-Azhar) leads to less legitimacy in the minds of its citizens.
Fifth, state-society scholars take history seriously. (Ibid, 90) Political outcomes are influenced by institutional decisions from an earlier era and must therefore be incorporated into any analysis. For example, Moustafa contends that the Mubarek regime learned a lesson from previous attempts to manipulate al-Azhar and this influenced their policy choices in the mid-1990s. Sixth and finally, state-society scholars generally focus on real-world puzzles that demand explanation. Theory is a means for analyzing empirical puzzles, while results contribute back to theory by confirming, challenging or modifying other research findings.
II. The State & Religious Institutions
Moustafa attempts to explain a puzzle: what explains al-Azhar’s open opposition to the Mubarak regime in the 1990s despite its being historically coopted by the state? He argues that the increase in Islamic violence gave al-Azhar leverage over the government. The government was forced to strike a bargain with al-Azhar since it depended on al-Azhar's support against Islamists. This bargain meant al-Azhar was able to push a gentle Islamic agenda in exchange for fatwas which sought to give cover to the state and delegitimize the Islamist claim to righteousness.
The most troubling aspect of this analysis is the vague role of legitimacy. What is legitimacy? How is it measured? Employed? How do we know when it is gained or lost? Moustafa attempts to ascertain the degree to which government manipulation affects the legitimacy of al-Azhar by noting, a) the purported grievances of Islamists, b) the documented reasons for the Muslims Brotherhoods assassination of Sadat in al-Faridah al-Gha’iba and, c) a single incident where the state relied on the moderate Brotherhood instead of al-Azhar. However this evidence shows only that Islamist groups believe al-Azhar is illegitimate, not Egyptian society writ large. As such, it is unclear that gentle cooption ultimately renders the regime more legitimate than does firm cooption.
Moustafa could avoid this problem by employing Wedeen’s approach. Wedeen conceptualizes culture as semiotic practices – the study of signs/symbols and their use or interpretation – in order to demonstrate how those symbols are deployed to promote a given outcome. Utilizing Wedeen brings us to a different conclusion than that reached by Moustafa. The regime alternately manipulates or gives free reign to al-Azhar in order to maximize its power vis-à-vis oppositional forces. Depending on the opposition group, they need to use certain symbols. For the “international community,” they employ elections, or allow protests in order undermine criticisms of the regime. In the face of Islamist opposition, they use al-Azhar to similarly undercut Islamist opposition. Analyzing symbols this way – as tools of symbolic power rather than tools of legitimacy - means that the outcome is not high or low levels of legitimacy, but rather the pursuit of high levels of state power. Mubarek’s actions make sense given the relevant threats to regime. Rather than being a tool of legitimacy, Islamic legal interpretation is a form of symbolic power.
Goldberg provides a third, slightly different perspective. He argues that a comparison of Sunni movements in Egypt and sixteenth-century Protestant reformers sheds light on the sources and meaning of fundamentalism. He argues that fundamentalism can be understood as a critique of arbitrary absolutist power during periods of state building. Both movements transferred religious authority away from absolutist power and toward voluntary, motivated believers. (3-4) Both may also serve as the basis for post absolutist authority since their argument is for public authority vested in the mass of believers. Thus both movements contain a seed of the anarchist principle that human society can be cohesive and productive without hierarchical authority. Goldberg reminds us that Islamist fundamentalism may not be a reaction against modernity or liberalism (although it may be) but rather a positive movement toward a more egalitarian distribution of power in the state. Mubarak seeks the imprimatur of al-Azhar because it permits a less egalitarian distribution of power and thus more social control.
I’ll close with a second reverent critique of Moustafa. His puzzle, why would an authoritarian regime permit open opposition?, is premised on a usefully one-dimensional notion of authoritarianism. First, assuming that the Egyptian regime always seeks to “regulate and coopt religious institutions to use them in the service of the state” allows him to show that coopting religious symbols may occur in different ways at different times. (9) Second, assuming that scholars of developing states believe, “a preponderance of state power over society will inevitably give it [the state] the ability to shape society as it wants” allows him to show that society does in fact influence the state. (18) Third, assuming initially that the government would consistently act the same toward al-Azhar allowed him to show that Mubarak did not act the same as Sadat or Nasser. His conclusion, that the schizophrenic shifts in policy result from the relationship between state power and social control, only solves a puzzle if one believes that policies would otherwise stay the same, or that all authoritarian regimes act the same. It would be useful if Moustafa identified the sources of support for the regime. Different kinds of authoritarianism – personalist dictators, military rulers, single party regimes - break down in different ways and may make policy in different ways as well. (Geddes 1999)
In order to understand political outcomes such a dictatorship, democracy & development, state-society scholars contend that political, social and ideational life cannot be understood as purely reflecting economic phenomenon. (Kohli, 2002:86) Rather, state and society are both autonomous from one another but also “mutually constitutive”. (ibid, citing Bendix 1962:286-90) What does this mean for researchers?
First, most state-society scholars are committed to generalizable knowledge at the middle level of analysis, avoiding on the one hand grand structural claims, and at the other hand specific details of empirical situations as an end in itself. For example, Wiktorowicz studies the manipulation of Islamic symbols by the state in order to understand how the Jordanian regime regulates religion in order to manage collective action. (Wiktorowicz, 46) Generalizations from such case-studies do not necessarily apply to all regimes or even to the Jordanian regime in all periods. Rather, the generalizations from this case are used to incrementally refine middle-range contingent generalizations, which are then applied back to within case generalizations (the Jordanian regime at other times) and to other cases. (George & Bennett, 2005: 123-4)
Second, social reality is sui generis. (Kohli, 2002:89) Social formations must be studied in part independently from the individuals who created them. In other words, social and political reality must be studied as more than simply the aggregation of individual actions. The fluctuating bargain between al-Azhar and the Egyptian state is not merely a product of maneuvers by respective leaders. Rather, leaders emerge from and react to social forces. Third, political structures are influenced by social dynamics but are not simply determined by them. For example, political outcomes, such as al-Azhar policy in the mid-1990s, is influenced in part by social forces (Islamists) and in part by political factors (the state).
Fourth, interests are neither socially constructed, nor are they permanently fixed in stone. Ideas/institutions and economic interests mutually condition one another. Both must be taken into account for a full analysis of political outcomes. Wedeen fills a gap in this approach by exploring how we may measure ways that ideas condition political outcomes. Incorporating the causal influence of ideas into models of political outcomes is difficult since we cannot get into the heads of political actors. For example, we cannot test whether a given state action (such as coopting al-Azhar) leads to less legitimacy in the minds of its citizens.
Fifth, state-society scholars take history seriously. (Ibid, 90) Political outcomes are influenced by institutional decisions from an earlier era and must therefore be incorporated into any analysis. For example, Moustafa contends that the Mubarek regime learned a lesson from previous attempts to manipulate al-Azhar and this influenced their policy choices in the mid-1990s. Sixth and finally, state-society scholars generally focus on real-world puzzles that demand explanation. Theory is a means for analyzing empirical puzzles, while results contribute back to theory by confirming, challenging or modifying other research findings.
II. The State & Religious Institutions
Moustafa attempts to explain a puzzle: what explains al-Azhar’s open opposition to the Mubarak regime in the 1990s despite its being historically coopted by the state? He argues that the increase in Islamic violence gave al-Azhar leverage over the government. The government was forced to strike a bargain with al-Azhar since it depended on al-Azhar's support against Islamists. This bargain meant al-Azhar was able to push a gentle Islamic agenda in exchange for fatwas which sought to give cover to the state and delegitimize the Islamist claim to righteousness.
The most troubling aspect of this analysis is the vague role of legitimacy. What is legitimacy? How is it measured? Employed? How do we know when it is gained or lost? Moustafa attempts to ascertain the degree to which government manipulation affects the legitimacy of al-Azhar by noting, a) the purported grievances of Islamists, b) the documented reasons for the Muslims Brotherhoods assassination of Sadat in al-Faridah al-Gha’iba and, c) a single incident where the state relied on the moderate Brotherhood instead of al-Azhar. However this evidence shows only that Islamist groups believe al-Azhar is illegitimate, not Egyptian society writ large. As such, it is unclear that gentle cooption ultimately renders the regime more legitimate than does firm cooption.
Moustafa could avoid this problem by employing Wedeen’s approach. Wedeen conceptualizes culture as semiotic practices – the study of signs/symbols and their use or interpretation – in order to demonstrate how those symbols are deployed to promote a given outcome. Utilizing Wedeen brings us to a different conclusion than that reached by Moustafa. The regime alternately manipulates or gives free reign to al-Azhar in order to maximize its power vis-à-vis oppositional forces. Depending on the opposition group, they need to use certain symbols. For the “international community,” they employ elections, or allow protests in order undermine criticisms of the regime. In the face of Islamist opposition, they use al-Azhar to similarly undercut Islamist opposition. Analyzing symbols this way – as tools of symbolic power rather than tools of legitimacy - means that the outcome is not high or low levels of legitimacy, but rather the pursuit of high levels of state power. Mubarek’s actions make sense given the relevant threats to regime. Rather than being a tool of legitimacy, Islamic legal interpretation is a form of symbolic power.
Goldberg provides a third, slightly different perspective. He argues that a comparison of Sunni movements in Egypt and sixteenth-century Protestant reformers sheds light on the sources and meaning of fundamentalism. He argues that fundamentalism can be understood as a critique of arbitrary absolutist power during periods of state building. Both movements transferred religious authority away from absolutist power and toward voluntary, motivated believers. (3-4) Both may also serve as the basis for post absolutist authority since their argument is for public authority vested in the mass of believers. Thus both movements contain a seed of the anarchist principle that human society can be cohesive and productive without hierarchical authority. Goldberg reminds us that Islamist fundamentalism may not be a reaction against modernity or liberalism (although it may be) but rather a positive movement toward a more egalitarian distribution of power in the state. Mubarak seeks the imprimatur of al-Azhar because it permits a less egalitarian distribution of power and thus more social control.
I’ll close with a second reverent critique of Moustafa. His puzzle, why would an authoritarian regime permit open opposition?, is premised on a usefully one-dimensional notion of authoritarianism. First, assuming that the Egyptian regime always seeks to “regulate and coopt religious institutions to use them in the service of the state” allows him to show that coopting religious symbols may occur in different ways at different times. (9) Second, assuming that scholars of developing states believe, “a preponderance of state power over society will inevitably give it [the state] the ability to shape society as it wants” allows him to show that society does in fact influence the state. (18) Third, assuming initially that the government would consistently act the same toward al-Azhar allowed him to show that Mubarak did not act the same as Sadat or Nasser. His conclusion, that the schizophrenic shifts in policy result from the relationship between state power and social control, only solves a puzzle if one believes that policies would otherwise stay the same, or that all authoritarian regimes act the same. It would be useful if Moustafa identified the sources of support for the regime. Different kinds of authoritarianism – personalist dictators, military rulers, single party regimes - break down in different ways and may make policy in different ways as well. (Geddes 1999)
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Avenues of Participation, Diane Singerman
James Scott’s goal in his magnificent text, Weapons of the Weak, is to understand everyday forms of peasant resistance, the “ordinary weapons of relatively powerless groups: foot dragging, dissimulation, desertion, false compliance, pilfering, feigned ignorance, slander, arson, sabotage and so on.” These common forms of resistance do not depend on the state nor on formal social movements, rather, they, “require little or no coordination or planning; they make use of implicit understandings and informal networks; they often represent a form of individual self-help; they typically avoid any direct, symbolic confrontation with authority.” (Scott 1985:xvi, italics mine)
Singerman relies heavily on Scott in arguing that political participation, like peasant resistance, takes many forms. Subaltern communities (those of lower status) are neither apathetic toward repressive political regimes nor are they depoliticized into silence. Despite Egyptian efforts to exclude the bulk of the populace from formal politics, the regime cannot prevent the lower classes from creating their own economic and social networks. In mapping out this space through the use of ethnography and social network analysis, Singerman attempts to accomplish four theoretical goals.
First, she blurs the line between state and society by extending the zone of politics into the private sphere, even into the family. Second, she expands our understanding of political expression. Political expression resides in more forms than rallies, demonstrations or coups. Third, she diversifies the notion of political power by detailing the role that women’s extrasystemic, informal pressure plays in these networks. Building on the work of feminist scholars, she argues for revising notions of political power to incorporate seemingly apolitical activities.
Fourth, she attempts to show how this all matters for Egyptian politics and scholarship. She argues that it matters for two reasons. The first is descriptive and compelling. Understanding life in Cairo is indeed incomplete without an understanding of the sha’b. The second is in my opinion unpersuasive, that we need to understand the sha’d in order to “construct any dynamic and comprehensive analysis of national politics.” (271) She argues that informal political institutions enable the sha’bi communities to preserve some measure of autonomy otherwise denied by the state. They must thus be incorporated as a force in Egyptian politics just like the elites, social movements, or the military. The sha’b also uses informal political institutions to negotiate, or undermine the state without risking the consequences of confrontation. This erodes the tax base of the state and has implications for economic development.
I am not convinced that this matters for political analysis, economic change, or even understanding power. I think all social networks establish some measure of autonomy from the state. Bureaucracies maintain independence through institutional contestation, the military through fear-mongering, social movements through claims to moral superiority. That some autonomy exists is insufficient evidence for causal influence. That the sha’b erodes the tax base of the state has less to do with informal networks and more to do with low infrastructural power, low levels of legitimacy and the broader issue of state capacity. I suspect that if state capacity increased, the tax base would as well.
In conclusion, it is worth noting that this text was published under the auspices of Princeton University’s Studies of Muslim Politics, and I think it succeeds as a descriptive account of one Muslim community’s politics. Theorectically however, it depends almost entirely on Scott’s framework and thus feels shallow on its own.
Singerman relies heavily on Scott in arguing that political participation, like peasant resistance, takes many forms. Subaltern communities (those of lower status) are neither apathetic toward repressive political regimes nor are they depoliticized into silence. Despite Egyptian efforts to exclude the bulk of the populace from formal politics, the regime cannot prevent the lower classes from creating their own economic and social networks. In mapping out this space through the use of ethnography and social network analysis, Singerman attempts to accomplish four theoretical goals.
First, she blurs the line between state and society by extending the zone of politics into the private sphere, even into the family. Second, she expands our understanding of political expression. Political expression resides in more forms than rallies, demonstrations or coups. Third, she diversifies the notion of political power by detailing the role that women’s extrasystemic, informal pressure plays in these networks. Building on the work of feminist scholars, she argues for revising notions of political power to incorporate seemingly apolitical activities.
Fourth, she attempts to show how this all matters for Egyptian politics and scholarship. She argues that it matters for two reasons. The first is descriptive and compelling. Understanding life in Cairo is indeed incomplete without an understanding of the sha’b. The second is in my opinion unpersuasive, that we need to understand the sha’d in order to “construct any dynamic and comprehensive analysis of national politics.” (271) She argues that informal political institutions enable the sha’bi communities to preserve some measure of autonomy otherwise denied by the state. They must thus be incorporated as a force in Egyptian politics just like the elites, social movements, or the military. The sha’b also uses informal political institutions to negotiate, or undermine the state without risking the consequences of confrontation. This erodes the tax base of the state and has implications for economic development.
I am not convinced that this matters for political analysis, economic change, or even understanding power. I think all social networks establish some measure of autonomy from the state. Bureaucracies maintain independence through institutional contestation, the military through fear-mongering, social movements through claims to moral superiority. That some autonomy exists is insufficient evidence for causal influence. That the sha’b erodes the tax base of the state has less to do with informal networks and more to do with low infrastructural power, low levels of legitimacy and the broader issue of state capacity. I suspect that if state capacity increased, the tax base would as well.
In conclusion, it is worth noting that this text was published under the auspices of Princeton University’s Studies of Muslim Politics, and I think it succeeds as a descriptive account of one Muslim community’s politics. Theorectically however, it depends almost entirely on Scott’s framework and thus feels shallow on its own.
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Speaking in God's Name: Islamic Law, Authority and Women
One of the enduring aspects of Islam is the egalitarianism within its faith-community. There is no central authority handing down edicts to be obeyed unquestionably by the followers; nor there is one school of thought that reigns supreme over others. The long and illustrious history of Islamic jurisprudence is marked by its indeterminancy and ever evolving standards, owing to its juristic diversity and culture of disputations. Its methodological tools are designed to put the legal principles through rigorous accountability tests and constant checks and balances. Uniformity and codification of Islamic legal principles have hitherto been a rare jurisprudential practice until very recently. The concept of authoritativeness of Islamic law, by way of hermeneutics, and its authoritarian by-product, is the main thrust of this provocative yet fascinating and detail-rich book by Khaled Abou El Fadl, Speaking in God's Name: Islamic Law, Authority and Women.
While there is no central authoritative institution in Islam, Muslims do have to follow the injunctions of God and the teachings and practices of Prophet Muhammad through the holy text, al-Qur'an, and Sunnah (reported sayings and actions of the Prophet). These two sources of law, in fact, act as the ultimate reference to guide Muslims in every aspects of life; hence their authoritativeness. But total and unfettered comprehension of God's law is beyond the finite reach of human minds, which then requires the services of select and highly learned interpreters, who El Fadl called “special agents,” to closely approximate the Divine principles (53). Human fallibility such as ideological and cultural bias also explains why the veracity of Sunnah has to be thoroughly investigated, especially when it results in significant theological, legal, and sociological impact. The uncertainty of this interpretive process is the hallmark of Islamic jurisprudence and its intellectual vibrancy, which is now slowly eroded by myopic attempt to universalize and codify a stringent and unyielding set of principles over others. This is what El Fadl meant by the authoritarian nature of the text or interpretive despotism—its malleability allows for shrewd manipulation by agenda-driven party.
Traditionally, the special agents, in their capacity as the interpreters of God’s law, played a mediative, semi-autonomous role, negotiating between the state and various social forces (15). They were the chosen ones, or in El Fadl’s words, “a specialized professional class” (61)—not unlike the philosopher-kings of Plato—endowed with supreme knowledge through long educational training and the moral virtue of the highest order, who then were able to faithfully represent God’s will on Earth. El Fadl lists five criteria that form the character of a special agent: honesty, diligence, comprehensiveness, reasonableness, and self-restraint, along with being pious and extremely knowledgeable (54-56). While these are very commendable normative criteria, their abstract nature does not allow for consistent treatment of their actual meanings. Even people, who in El Fadl’s eyes fall short of these criteria, can claim to be special agents by exploiting the meanings of these five contingencies through various means, particularly institutional association. The criteria, in a sense, are a matter of perception, of how these special agents are viewed through the eyes of the public; therefore, what El-Fadl constitutes as the substances of these criteria, vary across the socio-political landscape. Special agents, say, by virtue of association with the venerable Al-Azhar in Egypt, can claim to be legitimate without explicitly satisfying the five criteria—that is, for as long as the public sees Al-Azhar as the paragon of Islamic learning and the unimpeachable disseminator of Islamic knowledge. Similarly, C.R.L.O.’s association with the Saudi government, which is viewed, though not unanimously, as the guardian of Islamic heritage, supplies it with the needed legitimacy to issue rulings that are amenable to not just the domestic population, but also large segments of Muslim communities worldwide.
This, in turn, brings up the question of how much the attempt at codifying and universalizing Islamic principles is about simplicity and efficacy, and not about naked projection of power and domination? Could it be that the advent of nation-states contributes to the decline of classical Islamic jurisprudential culture in the past three hundred years? Could the state and its monopoly on coercion within a territorial boundary, as defined by Max Weber, provides certain groups of Islamic jurists the opportunity to circumvent the laborious tradition and practices of Islamic legal scholarship and its inherent uncertainty by exploiting state’s coercive apparatuses to advance and impose their brand of God’s will upon the society at-large? The cozy association between the religious scholars and the state certainly points to this direction. Furthermore, the association is mutually-beneficial: the state is able to derive its legitimacy from the religious establishment, while the religious establishment gets to assert its supremacy over other competing groups through the hegemonic power of the state. This is the question that escapes the scope of the book, but understandably, it is about the intricacies of Islamic jurisprudence and its dire need for rejuvenation. Still, it seems incomplete to explain the interpretive despotism of the text without enunciating the dynamics between the special agents and the institutions of power i.e. the state. Interpretive hegemony, presumably, could not be attained independent of a deep-reaching institutional support, and it could be one of the explanations why this phenomenon is more prevalent now than it was in the past.
All in all, this is a brilliant scholarship by El Fadl to debunk the prevailing notions that Islamic jurisprudence is seemingly trapped in a time-warp and its principles are incompatible with the evolving standards of the modern age. Its publication is especially timely considering that there are a lot of confusions about what constitute as cultural and Islamic practices, and more importantly, the abuses of religious scholarship in the name of preserving deeply unjust and cruel cultural practices.
Kurzman, Charles. The Unthinkable Revolution in Iran.
Charles Kurzman proposes a novel way of defining how the revolution happened and he refers to it as an “anti-explanation”. Economic, political, cultural, organizational, and military explanations have been successful but were not inclusive (6). He does not fully approve their approach and believes their retroactive predictions flawed to some extent. The anti explanation foregrounds the confusion, instability, and unpredictability of revolutionary moments for participants. Although Kurzman analyses the level of instability and violence was less than many other countries which faced revolution, the following question remains. Could the lack of relative violence and confusion result in defining the revolution as unpredictable or because it did not follow the pattern of the classical social movements theory?
Bazargan a Free rider or Nationalist?
Many oppositionists, expecting a revolution followed Khomeini’s strategy in order to assure seats in his government. Mehdi Bazargan, a liberal oppositionist, realizing the weakness of his group’s ideology changed positions and gained a post in revolutionary government. Bazargan and Khomeini envisioned a clear and achievable revolution and they already had the step by step plan (3). Khomeini’s lack of political knowledge and administration was a big problem to Bazargan (3). However, Khomeini’s strategy of politicizing Islam seemed to be successful in achieving their goal and Bazargan trusted him.
Models and theories:
The author mentions that every country’s revolution is unique in its own way. Is it always necessary to draw a model or find an applicable model in order to categorize it? It is difficult to apply one revolutionary model drawn for a specific country to another. Could these models occasionally harm the glory of the revolution, reduce the level of understanding on how the revolution took place, and create an ambiguous puzzle?
When Iranians themselves are not fully sure about the formation of the revolution, Kurzman drew a conclusion with data and statistics that lacked credibility. Kurzman agrees that the sources and statistics were not fully reliable but his thoughts, evidences, and perceptions helped him draw the conclusion. Did he listen to those “thousand stories and explanations that each were correct in their own way” to draw his conclusion? (84) Kurzman needed to integrate more anecdotes, diversify his interviews and integrate different socioeconomic backgrounds in his book. That would help him reduce the confusion of how the society mobilized and integrated.
Military and lack of reinforcement:
Why didn’t The Shah fully use the military power in order to crack down definitively? He had one of the strongest armies in the region. Was his sickness an issue? Did he really care about the people that he did not want to harm them or torture them? In the beginning of the movement he could have specifically taken control of the situation. Did he underestimate the power of the masses and specifically the Islamic oppositionists?
Who did The Shah really fear?
The Shah thought that the writers, lawyers, and liberal oppositionists were capable of changing the regime and was willing to negotiate with them. Kurzman states that the Shah (section Shii Appeals, A Viable Movement) does not take Khomeini’s movement seriously until the number of demonstrators and strikes increased dramatically and their ideology of the state had totally changed. The Shah was busy with the economic reform and involved in many foreign meetings and he could not redirect his focus on these issues to suppress the movement? Why didn’t America, Iran’s strongest ally, take action or waken up Iran’s government? Did they have to wait until the last days to come illegally into Iran in order to give military bases instructions?
Exploring the Persian Culture:
Kurzman does not explore the Iranian culture in depth. The motives for joining in the strikes and movements could have been richly explained from cultural context. He mentions that solidarity exists within the home but not outside and the movement helped unite the inner and outer sphere of the society (139). Lack of solidarity exists until this day and they still do not trust each other. Trust formation during the revolution was the product of a planned behavior. Islamist oppositionist had the intention to unify Iranians for their own solidarity and they achieved their goal.
Joining the protests:
Many people knew that they needed to get involved in order to save face in front of the rest of the society. Many knew that they would not get new positions or save their job if they were known as resisters. Additionally the book confirms that people could get killed and their assets would be demolished if they would not cooperate. They did not want their reputation and life ruined.
Change of Character:
As the rhythm of the strike movements changed and intensified the characters also changed. Many people from the public sector were present but the movement was dominated by the bazaaris and the urban poor. Kurzman does not emphasis why these groups which have recently migrated to the city became easily influenced by the Mullahs and Khomeini. Could it be because they lacked class consciousness in a very class conscious society and they were hoping to create a new identity for themselves?
Various Oppositionist Groups:
According to Kurzman, the aspirations of the revolution based on the most popular slogan were "Independence, Freedom and Islamic Republic." This slogan shaped and framed the mentality of Iranians and it was enough to mobilize them. Having the charismatic Khomeini as the spiritual leader helped stop them from questioning the degree of change and what kind of freedom they will get. Iranians got an Islamic Republic without having particularly any idea of what they were getting into. Based on Iranians responses they all agreed to just not to have a monarchy.
Other groups had an important impact in shaping the revolution but Kurzman underreports them. This results in confusion. Other groups such as the Marxist group, Liberal Oppositionist, Communist, and the Mujahedin group (which the author discusses them briefly although they played a major role in the viability of the revolution) had different interpretation of the central themes. These modernized groups came together because of Khomeini’s charismatic character. Were there any other options to create a more homogenous group of social actors for the revolution that was more democratic minded?
Media and Framing:
Media and effective communication had a major role in framing audiences and followers. Media helped speed up formation of unity and solidarity movements (p164). Khomeini used Islamic symbols and politicized them. He associated Iranians with Islamic themes in order to awaken the inner Muslim character within every individual. Khomeini reinforced his messages repeatedly and created a new model of social norms. Khomeini used his charisma and religious hierarchy to implement his strategy. Individual’s interpreted him as a holly Imam. Khomeini shaped the public opinion. He defined how a good Muslim should live, behave, and act as a revolutionary.
Various oppositionists groups thought they will have a say in what would happen after the revolution occurs and they will be able to shape and implement the policies within the Islamic state. This resulted in unifying the rest of the oppositionist groups and giving them, a sense of solidarity. The mass movements created solidarity. Iranians were in a state of false consciousness. They were informed enough to follow the rules. Khomeini’s religious authority did not allow anyone to question his ideology or his plans. Islamists strategically focused on priming and framing. The society had to achieve an Islamic state, or what Khomeini claimed to be what god wanted. No questions asked!
Iranians are like sheep (129):
Is it possible that Iranians were waiting for some movement driving by a strong leading figure for them to follow like sheep! And just to overthrow the Shah’s monarchy? Did it matter what happens next? Was it something to keep them busy with all the free time they got since their jobs never required more than 70 minutes of real work? Were they over satisfied with what they had and just needed a change?
The Shah and his Promises:
Was there a chance that the Shah really wanted to make reforms, offer more freedom, (58) or he was truly converting after 37 years? Why did Khomeini keep referring to the Shah’s announcements as tricks (58)? Khomeini did not allow individuals to decode or mentally process the Shah’s announcements. Why didn’t they believe the Shah and give him a second chance? He often delivered what people needed (White revolution). The Shah was not clear what he wanted to do, why didn’t Khomeini clarify what would be realized as far as aspirations for independence or what would be an independent economy.
Thinkable:
Just because the movement did not engage by using machine guns does that follow that protestors understood clearly that the movement could succeed without violence (157)? Does this mean that they were aware of the revolutions viability?
Why did Khomeini often respond to protestors “that it is our duty to struggle in this fashion and the result is with Allah” (157). Was he disclaiming responsibility for unthinkable and unplanned incidents with politicized religious statements?
Consciousness:
Did Iranians truly want to use Shiism as a cultural reservoir or a tool kit for a movement construction (56)? Only 10% of the society was active in the movement and formation of the revolution; where was the rest? And why didn’t they engage in the demonstrations? Could it be that they were neither political nor religious; or is it that they were content with their lives? Or could they be showing their objection using the exit strategy by not engaging in any demonstrations? In interviews some intellectuals did not support Khomeini (142); however, for the time being they were supporting him to change the regime. Were they concerned about the aftermath or just over romanticizing about a glorious democratic future? Did Iranians know they would create the most democratic dictatorship and the most dictatorial democracy?
Revolution:
The oil embargo increased Iran’s oil revenue dramatically (86). This new wealth accelerated the Shah's timetable to make Iran catch up with the West. The Shah's determination to modernize Iran overnight and at any cost led to a cultural shock, alienation of the masses, inflation, corruption, economic blockage, massive urbanization, rising expectations and increasing authoritarianism in dealing with these social, economic and political problems (85). Was there truly a problem with absorptive capacity (87)? Why did he import truck drivers when people had nothing to do and were striking? Could the author be bias toward the formation of the revolution? He does not offer much information from the Shah’s side.
My thought on this book:
This book was very informative. However, I believe the author assumes prior knowledge on Iran and the revolution’s history. He needs to provide an effective chronology of the history for the reader. Additionally, he does not identify many of the key revolutionary groups and individuals; maybe he did not want to shift the focus of his argument. However, I believe his incomplete evidence reduces his credibility. His model did not show persuasively that all Iranians could see the revolution foreseeable. Although Kurzman is convinced that a lot of the past explanations do not fit well but perhaps he is better at critiquing than offering a new explanation. The fact that he believed the revolution was very unpredictable plus some of the elements were confusing and unstable does not mean the whole population including the protestors and revolutionaries felt the same way. The majority of Iranian protestors who were firm immediate followers knew that the revolution would take place. The author could have unfolded his theory better. More historical thoughts and information would have been helpful.
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