Colleagues with whom I spoke about this piece had one of two responses: “Why do you want to feed the flames of cliché and prejudice about violence in the Middle East?” and “Surely, there has been no theorization of violence in the Middle East.” Regarding the first response, I agree that thinking about violence in the Middle East can be a fraught enterprise. This is because a hysterical mainstream narrative locates the sources of violence in or emanating from the region in Islam(ism) or attributes it to some half-baked but remarkably persistent cultural explanations (tribalism, ancient hatreds, cycles of violence, etc.) which uncomfortably echo the racism of an earlier scholarly era. But enough innovative works have emerged on violence that we can move—at least in our scholarly conversations—beyond this terrain of prejudice and paranoia.

Together with those centuries of the Ottoman empire's florescence, the age of the independent Mamlûks(648–922/1250–1517)ranks as one of the best-documented periods of medieval Islamic history. Not only is its historical writing proper of an amazing bulk and richness, but the Mamlûk period produced encyclopedic compilations covering almost every branch of the Islamic sciences. In particular, there arose a flourishing minor genre of manuals of financial and secretarial practice, reflecting on the one hand the economic and commercial richness of the Mamlûk lands, and on the other the importance of the Mamlûk chancery and its truly international sphere of operations

Approximately three-quarters of a century passed between the rise, in 1501, of the Safavid state of Iran under Shah Ismail I and the coming to power of his grandson Ismail II in 1576. The first Ismail had decreed that the Ithna-ʿashari Shiʿi form of Islam and the Jaʿfarī system of law be formally established in the country. When the victorious founder of the new dynasty entered Tabriz, he ordered that the phrase containing the name of Imam ʿAli (the true successor to the Prophet Muhammad according to the Twelver Shiʿi belief) be included in the call to prayer chanted from the minarets of the mosques. Shiʿism was consolidated, especially during the long reign of the intervening monarch, Shah Tahmasb (1524–76), thanks in part to the activities of a powerful mujtahid, ʿAli ibn ʿAbd al-ʿAli al-Karaki (d. 1534). However, according to the majority of the contemporary Safavid sources, when Ismail II came to power, he seems to have had second thoughts about Shiʿism and to have exhibited a proclivity for Sunnism. The Sunni ideas of Ismail II may have been fostered by another politicoreligious figure, a certain Mirza Makhdum Sharifi. The inclination Ismail II had toward Sunnism resulted in a curious episode that is recounted by Safavid historians in detail and in various versions.

As activists frame campaigns, their region's broader cultural and political context intercedes. In Israel and Palestine attempts to work across national lines and undertake activism that links ecological, economic, and social issues have long been stymied. This article examines how the fraught historical and contemporary relationships of Israelis and Palestinians with land bestow both flexibility and limitations on their framing of campaigns. In particular, it ethnographically analyzes the framing of two projects—the building of an “eco-mosque” and a Jordan River restoration effort—to examine how activists grapple with frame flexibility and its limits. It finds that an Israeli tendency to deterritorialize environmental issues and curb environmental campaigns that are “too political” conflicts with Palestinian criticism of apolitical frames because they euphemize violence and domination. These cases demonstrate how local connotations can make or break environmental campaigns. The eco-adage, “Think global, act local” is not enough. One must think local, too.

The political and dynastic history of Afghanistan during the 19th and the early 20th centuries is well known. So is British imperial policy toward Afghanistan. However, very little attention has been paid to the role of the clergy, the guardians of the Islamic order and the representatives of the civil society in Afghanistan. They played a major role in domestic politics and in Afghanistan's challenges with foreign powers. This paper attempts to fill the gap in information about the ulama by detailing their role in defending Afghanistan's territorial integrity and by examining the conflict over jihad between the ulama and Afghanistan's rulers, a conflict that adversely affected the legitimacy of successive regimes.

The “origins problem” has loomed large in the historiography of nationalism in the Arab Middle East and for good reason: it is constitutive and representative of other issues surrounding the problem of nationalism. George Antonius published the first iteration of what might be termed the “standard [origins] narrative” in 1938. Since that time, the narrative has undergone a number of revisions, the most notable of which are by C. Ernest Dawn, Philip S. Khoury, and Rashid Khalidi, among others.

In the late 19th and early 20th century, tobacco exports from the Ottoman Empire rapidly increased. Thousands of workers began to earn their livelihoods in warehouses, sorting and baling tobacco leaves according to their qualities. Ottoman towns where tobacco warehouses were concentrated soon became the sites of frequent labor protests. This article analyzes strikes that broke out in two such towns, İskeçe (Xanthi) and Kavala, in 1904 and 1905. It underlines the active role of the Ottoman government in the settlement of these strikes. It also shows that mobilized tobacco workers devised effective protest tactics and often secured a say in key decisions, such as when and under what conditions the warehouses operated. However, in both towns, labor activism was characterized by fragmentation as well as unity. The workers who took to the streets did not equally share the burdens and benefits of their collective actions. That inequality, the article argues, was rooted in gendered power relations, intercommunal rivalries, and other social tensions among the workers.

This paper focuses on a long-running and understudied Egyptian economic institution, the beer industry. While the presence of a well-developed beer industry in a predominantly Muslim country is noteworthy in itself, it is the consistent profitability of this industry despite the vicissitudes of Egypt's economic and political development that have made it truly remarkable. Relying heavily on archival material, including documents preserved in Cairo's Dar al-Wathaʾiq (Egyptian National Archives), this paper tracks the development of the beer industry in Egypt from 1897, when Belgian entrepreneurs started the Pyramid and Crown breweries, to the 1960s, when the Egyptian government nationalized the two companies. This analysis uses the history of the beer company to map larger social and economic trends in the colonial and semicolonial Egyptian economy (1882–1963) and to further problematize the foreign/Egyptian dichotomy that shapes discussions of it.

Can a nation mobilizing for an extended armed conflict also construct and implement a national educational curriculum? This article explores the complex and crucial case of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) as it sought to develop a national curriculum while in exile in Lebanon during the 1970s, prior to the inception of the Palestinian National Authority. Based on previously unexamined primary sources from PLO archives, I show how the PLO accomplished a high level of curriculum maturity despite considerable contextual and institutional challenges. The PLO mainstream embraced this curriculum as a political instrument of anticolonial and postdiasporic education suitable for regenerating a sense of community, fostering nation building, and increasing the PLO's political legitimacy. However, as can be expected in a colonial or diasporic setting, the process of educational transition remained uneven, fragile, and dependent on the PLO leadership's ability to navigate conflicts and negotiate arrangements with colonial power, host states, and international organizations.

The ethical theory of the Mu'tazila is properly called ‘rationalism’, because it held that the values of human and divine actions are knowable in principle by natural human reason. Since this doctrine and related parts of the theory (mentioned in the next section) were the prevailing ethical theories in the major preIslamic religious cultures of Iran and Byzantium, the question easily arises, to what extent were the Mu'tazila as the first systematic theologians in Islam indebted to these cultures for their ethics?

In his landmark book on the problems and progress of international organization, Inis L. Claude wrote:

“Settlement,” lİke “pacific,” is a relative term. In some cases, the realistic ideal may be not to achieve the permanent settlement of a dispute, but to persuade the parties to settle down permanently with the dispute. The agenda of the Security Council and the General Assembly are liberally sprinkled with items that are beginning to seem like permanent fixtures, quarrels which the United Nations has managed to subject to peaceful perpetuation rather than peaceful settlement.

As in several other disputes, the United Nations has in the Cyprus dispute operated on the assumption that Claude described: that the enforced postponement of a showdown between the parties would make the dispute conducive to peaceful settlement. Actually, some disputes, if properly controlled over a period of time, ultimately wither into insignificance or become ripe for settlement. In some other disputes, however, a long cooling-off period may actually lead the parties to adopt more rigid and uncompromising positions, and the prospects for reasonable compromise gradually diminish.

During the last decade or so, educational institutions of developing countries have attracted the attention of social scientists as the prime movers of structural changes in such societies. Some of those who are concerned with economic development and growth have argued that a major barrier to economic development is not so much the scarcity of natural resources and capital, but rather the lack of trained manpower resulting from insufficient or mismanaged investment in training the ‘necessary manpower’.

Few oil-producing economies, and for that matter few primary commodity-producing countries, have experienced as abrupt and severe a loss of foreign exchange earnings as that undergone by Iran in the period 1951–1953 following the nationalization of the oil industry and the subsequent international boycott of Iranian oil. While the literature on Iran during this period is extensive, it has focused largely on the political implications of nationalization and not so much on the economy's adjustment to the loss of foreign exchange. This article argues that the Iranian experience provides an instructive case study–admittedly an extreme one—of the ability of countries exposed to external shocks to adjust to the new realities.

On 30 June 1989, a military coup overthrew the democratically elected government of al-Sadiq al-Mahdi in Sudan and replaced it with a fundamentalist Muslim dictatorship headed by Colonel ʿUmar Hasan al-Bashir and adhering to the radical Islamic ideology of the National Islamic Front (NIF), under the leadership of Dr. Hasan al-Turabi. Since June 1881 when Muhammad Ahmad ibn ʿAbdallah declared that he was the expected mahdī, the religious-political scene of Sudan had been largely dominated by Mahdists and Khatmiyya adherents. Even under colonial rule, in the years 1899–1955, Mahdism continued to flourish despite the fact that the British rulers treated it with suspicion and preferred Sayyid ʿAli al-Mirghani, leader of the more docile Khatmiyya Sufi order. The defeat of the Mahdist Umma Party in the first general elections in 1953, by a coalition of secularists and Khatmiyya supporters was only a temporary setback. After Sudan became independent, in 1956, Mahdist supremacy was challenged both by the Khatmiyya and other groups, but its mass support among the Ansar, a political Islamic movement, enabled them to gain control, except during brief periods when so-called secularists governed independent Sudan. This happened in 1953–56 when the Khatmiyya joined forces with the intelligentsia, and again between October 1964 and March 1965 when the country was governed by a secular, transitional, nonelected government that was ousted from power as soon as the sects regained control. Secularism also thrived briefly under the military dictatorship of Jaʿfar al-Numayri between 1969 and 1977.

This article contributes to an emerging scholarly debate over the support displayed by key Azhari ʿulamaʾ for the 3 July 2013 coup in Egypt and the subsequent massacres of anticoup protesters. I focus on the Islamic legal justifications articulated by the former grand mufti of Egypt ʿAli Jumʿa, which academics have contextualized primarily in relation to quietist precedents from late medieval Islamic political thought or his Sufi background. By contrast, I consider Jumʿa's justifications as representative of a nationalist discourse that has its historical origins in the protonationalism of Rifaʿa al-Tahtawi (d. 1873). My argument has wider implications for our conceptualization of the contemporary Islamic tradition. If, as scholars have argued, the Islamic tradition is a framework for inquiry rather than a set of doctrines, then in the 19th century a concern for the nation and its future became a key part of that framework. I contend that these additions came to redefine the worldview and politics of the ʿulamaʾ in terms of national progress and its horizon of expectations.

In the thirty-two years from 1979 to 2011 there have been numerous mass movements in Iran and several Arab countries that have overthrown or threatened rulers who seemed secure for several decades. By September 2011, the shah of Iran and the presidents of Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya had been overthrown; of those, only the anti-Qaddafi revolt had outside (NATO) help. Major popular movements had also threatened the rulers of Bahrain, Yemen, and Syria. Iran had seen the massive Green Movement in 2009, aimed primarily at fraud in that year's presidential elections. Among the questions that emerge regarding these movements are the following: Why did they arise when they did? Why were they not predicted? How much influence did one or more of these movements have on the others? Why were some movements successful and others, thus far, not? Some of these questions will demand long study and analysis, which may not lead to a consensus. Here will be a preliminary brief discussion of a few of them, with stress on the question of influence.

The speed, spread, and democratic thrust of Arab revolutionary uprisings conjure up the revolutionary waves of 1848 and 1989 in Europe. Spearheaded by educated youth, the Arab uprisings have been brought to fruition by the masses of ordinary people (men, women, Muslims, and non-Muslims) who have mobilized at an astonishing scale against authoritarian regimes in pursuit of social justice, democratic governance, and dignity. If this broad observation is valid, then these social earthquakes are likely to unsettle some of the most enduring perspectives on the region. To begin with, they should undermine “Middle East exceptionalism,” with its culturalist focus informed by assumptions of “stagnant culture,” “fatalist Muslims,” and “unchangeable polity.” In political science, students of “regime stability” and the “authoritarian resiliency” of Arab states may have to reevaluate their conceptual premises. The analytical relevance of the concept of “rentier state” as the political basis of authoritarian stability might likewise need serious reformulation. The blatant cash handouts by some Arab Gulf states to “buy opposition” during the wave of protests in February and March 2011 do not seem to have worked.

Through a reading of 19th-century Persian travel narratives, this article locates the history of Iran and Central Eurasia within recent literature on global frontier processes and the encounter between empire and nature. It argues that Persianate travel books about Central Eurasia were part of the imperial project to order and reclaim the natural world and were forged through the material encounter with the steppes. Far from a passive act of collecting information and more than merely an extension of the observer's preconceptions, description was essential to the expansion and preservation of empire. Although there exists a vast literature on Western geographical and ethnographic representations of the Middle East, only recently have scholars begun to mine contacts that took place outside of a Western colonial framework and within an Asian setting. Based on an analysis of Riza Quli Khan Hidayat's Sifaratnama-yi Khvarazm, the record of an expedition sent from the Qajar Dynasty to the Oxus River in 1851, the article explores the 19th-century Muslim “discovery” of the Eurasian steppe world. The expedition set out to define imperial boundaries and to reclaim the desert, but along the way it found a permeable “middle ground” between empires, marked by transfrontier and cross-cultural exchanges.

“We are all enraged. Why don't you arrest us?” chanted protestors in the courtroom during the trial of El-Haqed (the enraged), a twenty-four-year-old rapper from Casablanca. El-Haqed is an active member of the 20 February movement (Feb20), which extended the 2011 North African uprisings to Morocco. Many believe that the civil charges brought several times against him are related to his political activism with Feb20 and his daring lyrics. El-Haqed's song “Long Live the People” is thought to be behind his first arrest because it disrupts the phrase “Long Live the King.” In June 2014, El-Haqed was sentenced to prison for the first time for a period of four months. While attending a sports match, he was arrested on charges of selling tickets on the black market. His multiple arrests, and Feb20 members’ sustained mobilizations against them, reveal that the rapper is not only an iconic figure for youth protesters, but also one of their greatest rallying forces.

Rapid population growth constitutes one of the most critical problems confronting many Middle Eastern and North African countries, placing incremental pressure on their finite water and other natural resources and challenging their abilities to grow sufficient food, accommodate school and university graduates with jobs, build adequate urban and rural infrastructures, contain rapid urbanization, and alleviate poverty, illiteracy, malnutrition, and disease. More than one-third of the population is under the age of fifteen in a majority of countries and, thus, has yet to marry and reach reproductive age. As a result, in most places the number of women of childbearing age (fifteen to forty-nine) will more than double in the next thirty years. Because there are so many young people, by one estimate the region's economies would have to generate half as many additional jobs by 2010 as existed in 1996 to avoid an increase in already high unemployment rates, particularly among young adults. The growing bulge of unemployed young people has serious political ramifications for many Middle Eastern regimes, from Algeria to Saudi Arabia. These problems will likely get worse in the short term because of demographic momentum—the parents of the future have already been born.