Hybrid Sovereignty in the Arab Middle East: The Cases of Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq (The Middle East in Focus)

Hybrid Sovereignty in the Arab Middle East

THE M IDDLE EAST IN FOCUS The Middle East has become simultaneously the world’s most controversial, crisis-ridden, and yet least-understood region. Taking new perspectives on the area that has undergone the most dramatic changes, the Middle East in Focus series, edited by Barry Rubin, seeks to bring the best, most accurate expertise to bear for understanding the area’s countries, issues, and problems. The resulting books are designed to be balanced, accurate, and comprehensive compendiums of both facts and analysis presented clearly for both experts and the general reader. Series Editor: Barry Rubin Director, Global Research International Affairs (GLORIA) Center Editor, Middle East Review of International Affairs (MERIA) Journal Editor, Turkish Studies Turkish Dynamics: Bridge across Trouble Lands By Ersin Kalayciog˘lu Eternal Iran: Continuity and Chaos By Patrick Clawson and Michael Rubin Hybrid Sovereignty in the Arab Middle East: The Cases of Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq By Gokhan Bacik The Politics of Intelligence and American Wars with Iraq By Ofira Seliktar

Hybrid Sovereignty in the Arab Middle East THE CASES OF KUWAIT, JORDAN, AND IR AQ

Gokhan Bacik

HYBRID SOVEREIGNTY IN THE ARAB MIDDLE EAST

Copyright © Gokhan Bacik, 2008. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. First published in 2008 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN™ 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 and Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire, England RG21 6XS Companies and representatives throughout the world. PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan® is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 978–0–230–60040–9 ISBN-10: 0–230–60040–9 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Bacik, Gokhan. Hybrid sovereignty in the Arab Middle East : the cases of Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq / Gokhan Bacik. p. cm.—(Middle East in focus) Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0–230–60040–9 (alk. paper) 1. Political science—Middle East—History. 2. Middle East—Politics and government. 3. Sovereignty—Case studies. I. Title. JA84.M53B33 2008 320.1950956—dc22

2007018261

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Design by Newgen Imaging Systems (P) Ltd., Chennai, India. First edition: January 2008 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Printed in the United States of America.

C on t e n t s

List of Tables and Figures

vii

Series Editor’s Foreword

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Acknowledgments

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Introduction Showcasing the Case Studies Structure of the Book

1 9 13

1

15 15 15

The Theoretical Framework Hybrid Sovereignty: Origin, Definition, and the Symptoms The Structural Nature of Hybrid Sovereignty The Construction of New State–Society Boundaries in the Middle East The Ottomans as the Pillar of the Western Model The Western Powers in the Region Hybrid Sovereignty Hybridity in the Literature: The Arab State as a Hybrid Sovereign The Identification of Hybridity Sampling Sovereignty Crisis in the Domestic Realm

21 23 24 30 36 41 45

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Genesis of the Western Model in Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq Preliminary Remarks Injection of the Westphalian Model Ottoman-Era Modernization Kuwait: From Pearl to Oil Jordan: Ottoman Modernization Meets the Colonial West Iraq: The Daring Project of Colonialism The Common Condition

59 59 59 60 61 71 82 102

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Kuwait: A Nation in the Minority The Political and Social Consequences of Rentierism Foreign Policy and Rentierism The Problem of Defining People: Domestic Sovereignty Crises A New Approach?

103 107 119 122 136

vi

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4 Jordan: The Competition of Different Constituencies The Palestinian Question The Failure of Citizenship The Failure of Central Authority Tribalism Palestinians Today: The Continuing Crisis of Sovereignty Liberalization: A New Social Contract? Status Quo versus Reform Conclusion

141 143 147 153 157 159 164 170 171

5 Iraq: Statehood in Catastrophe Introduction Defining the Problem War Effects: Toward a New Hybrid Bargain The Official Tribalism The Sunni–Shi’i Split The Emancipation of Shi’ism The Shi’a and the Radical Sovereignty Crisis in Iraq The Kurdish Problem Transformation of the Sovereignty Crisis The Continuing Hybridity

173 173 175 179 180 183 188 189 191 199 208

6 Final Remarks and Projections

211

Notes

221

Bibliography

241

Index

267

L ist of Ta bl es a n d Figu r es

Tables 1.1 Sovereignty and legitimacy in the international system 3.1 The demographic structure of Kuwait, end 2005

42 127

Figures 1.1 3.1 3.2 3.3 4.1

Rationality, neutrality, and citizenship State–society relations in rentier states State–society relations: the modern state Different constituencies, different identities The problems with citizenship in Jordan

48 113 115 123 148

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Se r i e s E di t or’s For e wor d

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here is no lack of paradoxes in the modern Middle East. And this has been a fascinating situation because the Middle East has been so unstable internally while simultaneously spreading that condition outward, so to speak. Nor has there been any dearth of political ideas emanating from that region. If this seems the product of my own area of work and interest to say so, it still seems objectively true to state that this has been the most important region in affecting the whole world over the last three decades. One of the greatest problems of Arabic-speaking countries in the region, and a major source of the above-mentioned issues, has been the problems of the state system. It should be stressed that more than one question is involved here. In fact, the problems are worth listing: 1. Do the people of the region and within the boundaries of these states themselves accept the existences of the current states and their borders? 2. Do the elites of these states themselves accept this status quo? 3. What political system and ideology should rule these states? 4. To what extent should these states combine or cooperate? 5. Is “local” patriotism legitimate or should the primary identity of people be as “Muslims” or as “Arabs” or as members of specific communities (Christian, Druze, Sunni, Shi’a, and so on)? 6. What is an unacceptable Western imported idea or institution? 7. Who should rule in each state? 8. Are states too strong or too weak? 9. How can the rulers of states mobilize support among their own populations? 10. Is the main cause of their problems internal (requiring changes in the existing system) or external (requiring struggle and resistance to foreign enemies)? 11. Is Islam as presently constituted a barrier to development or the very basis of civilization? And even this list is just the beginning of the dilemmas that exist. There are many simplistic responses for these complex issues. This book judiciously tries to unscramble this complex set of problems. It suggests the necessity of going back to first principles and asking whether the attempt to

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apply a Western type of sovereignty works at all, or at least that we must give full attention to how things are different in the Middle East, how long-familiar ideas simply do not make sense. In this context, it proposes the very useful concepts of “semi-sovereign,” “quasi-sovereign,” and “less sovereign.” The point here is clear: if traditional criteria do not work—and this is observed over a long period of time—the criteria must be changed by taking full account of historical and social factors. This, then, is an admirably creative and clear-eyed work that emphasizes understanding the “differentness” of Arab states. One of the greatest intellectual problems of the present age is the contradictory insistence on multiculturalism in theory and homogeneity in practice. Any attempt to view the Middle East without taking into account profound differences is going to fail miserably. Often, this has been the product of a transfer of principles by those who lack knowledge on the specificity of their subject matter. One can only hope that the kind of fresh thinking characterized by this book will become the norm rather than the exception in studies of the region. BARRY RUBIN

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his work has benefited from the help of many people who were very generous in giving me their advice and time. Meliha Benli Altunisik, who was a great mentor not only with this work but throughout my academic studies, must head my list. I thank others too, for a variety of reasons: Nuri Yurdusev, Ihsan Dagi, Attila Eralp, Recep Boztemur, Omer Caha, Berdal Aral, Glenn Robinson, John Vogler, Muhammad Bakari, Whit Mason, Lutfullah Karaman, Arthur Bonner, Ilker Ayturk, Mustafa Aydin, Sophie Johnson, Fuat Keyman, Mehmed Sulku, and Gulbahar Yelken. I should like to express my sincere appreciation for the generous financial assistance of the Fatih University for this project. Finally, I owe a special debt of gratitude to my family, Semra and Zeynep Bensu.

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I n t roduc t ion

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he expansion of the modern state system in Arab countries caused great changes. Many Western institutions and forms were brought into the region, mainly by colonial rule and Ottoman modernization. The historical Arab region was reinvented in the Western image. A Western understanding of sovereignty was imported into it. In general, the Westernization of the region should be understood in two forms: (i) the reorganization of the political geography with Western-style borders, and (ii) the reorganization of people, social structures, and forms of authority. New territorial states were the outcome. The Arab region, traditionally a medieval system of overlapping authorities, was subdivided as modern territorial state units with national boundaries. But the injection of Western images did not stop at border delineation. The traditional sociopolitical configuration was challenged also: New forms of power, authority, and social organization were created. The new characteristic “statehood” entered the region. The colonial project, rejecting the traditional patrimonial structure, attempted to forge a political association with legitimate and adequately financed administrative and military capabilities.1 However, the project was not the same everywhere. Westernization transformed the political structure of some parts of the Arab region, but it made typical artificial states of its other parts. The Arab state has remained a problematic concretization of modern statehood. The introduction of Western sovereignty weakened old authorities, but it did not replace them.2 On one level, the region acquired all the structural components of modern statehood. The contemporary Arab states, with their territorial borders, modern administrative apparatus, and official diplomatic relations with other states, are members of the international system of states. However, on another level, the Arab states are far from realizing the structural components of the modern state. The formal institutionalization of many components of statehood does not result in a parallel activation of them. It is a fact that the “modern bureaucratic states do not appear full blown with international recognition of sovereignty.”3 Several formal institutions are only paper structures. In other words, the colonially created Arab state cannot in practice realize important institutions of statehood. The differences between the history of state formation in Europe, from which sovereign norms emerged, and the realities of the domestically weak Arab states has led to the Westphalian inheritance problematic in the Middle East.4 Basically, the Westphalian design imported from the West seems

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implanted at the formal level, but at the operational level it is producing problems that affect statehood. The incompatibility between the model and the region is felt in all fields. The clash between tradition and Western sovereignty has nowhere been greater than in the post–World War II Middle East.5 New state structures are not congruent with the scope and boundaries of tribal, Islamic, imperial, or “feudal” domains. Eventually, colonially created Middle Eastern states are not “modern states” but are “like Western states.”6 Consequently, on the Westphalian model these states are less sovereign than other states in the international system. They are nation-states only for the sake of form.7 Taking stock of these matters, the major focus of this book is to demonstrate the inapplicability of a Western type of sovereignty criterion in the Arab Middle East. The injection of Western forms into the region, either through colonial rule or local reformation movements, encountered and clashed with traditional forms, which gave way to a hybrid model of sovereignty. This model recognizes the limited applicability for a colonially injected Western sovereignty. However, the inapplicability proposition here does not suggest that these states are not sovereign. The point is only that the process in which sovereignty is institutionalized and practiced is different from that of Western states. Despite some similarities with Western states, it remains true that Arab states’ practices have developed from a traditional and historical process that is different from the European one. When this book describes particular Arab states as “semi-sovereign,” or “quasi-sovereign,”8 or “less sovereign” (terms that have an established usage in this field of study),9 it is deploying a yardstick marked with European, or Westphalian, values. Measurement prefixes such as “semi-” and “quasi-” and quantitative adjectives such as “less” are used to underline the different-ness of, or the gap between, specific Arab spheres of sovereignty and the Westphalian concept of state sovereignty. There must be a point of departure, or point of comparison, when one speaks of sovereignty; otherwise, all discussions of it would remain on the metaphysical plane. It is common to compare Arab states with Western states. But the reader might well wonder why the Western model of sovereignty dictates the values of the comparison. Of course, the “Western sovereignty model” is not a model in the sense that it is a paragon of universal correctness. The Western model is a certain model because it is the product of its own historical background. No value such as “good, effective, wealth generating” is attributed to the Western model when other models are compared to it. That this book uses the Western-model yardstick at all is due entirely to a simple historical fact: the Arab regions have been in the process of re-creation in the Western image for the last three centuries. These regions have long been under colonial rule. Furthermore, the Western model was adopted by the postcolonial nationalist regimes. Briefly, these lands have been in nation-building and state-formation mode, and their state models are in line with the Westernstate model. Therefore, it is methodologically important to measure the extent to which this Westernization is realized.

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It is a fact that Western influence was experienced in many Arab states. “Apart from Iran, Saudi Arabia, North Yemen, and Turkey, all the countries of the region experienced decades of European rule.”10 Westernization, or the reorganization of traditional structures according to the Western model, took place at different levels and in a variety of forms in the Arab Middle East. Therefore, scholars have usually classified modern Arab states from this perspective. For example, we have five types of state models in the Middle East, according to Iliya Harik: The Imam-chief system, the alliance of chiefs and imams, the traditional secular system, the bureaucratic-military oligarchy type, and the colonially created state system.11 Such classifications refer to the differences among modern Arab states in terms of their historical background. This book’s hypothesis is therefore constructed on three cases: Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq, because of the colonial background of their state formation. As typical states affected by long and intensive Western influence, Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq are exemplars of the limits of Western-injected sovereignty in colonially created states. In each case, the aim is to demonstrate that the Western-sovereignty criterion is, in the final analysis, inapplicable in the region. That the Western-sovereignty criterion is inapplicable in the colonially created Arab states is the fundamental and essential rubric of this book. For the purposes of this investigation, this is at once a hypothesis acting as a tentative explanation and a truism. This hypothesis is defended with the argument that Western sovereignty, colonially brought to the region, is an inapplicable criterion for indigenous reasons. The analysis of the inapplicability thesis will use the hypothetico-deductive method. On this method, a hypothesis is first devised from certain explicit and observable predictions. Then, observations that run contrary to those predicted are taken as evidence against the hypothesis. However, following the hypothetico-deductive method, the hypothesis to be refuted is not the basic hypothesis of this study. Instead, this book aims to observe several phenomena that run contrary to the Westphalian hypothesis. It is argued that, like other nation-states in the international context, the modern Arab states act on the basis of the classical Westphalian principles of statehood and sovereignty. The various other observed phenomena will be tested to determine whether the Western sovereignty concept is applicable to them. The aim is to discover evidence capable of demonstrating that it is not. Naturally, all discovered evidence will be taken as evidence confirming the inapplicability thesis. Like any other study, this one also depends on several secondary, or auxiliary, arguments. The first auxiliary argument originates from a definition of Western sovereignty. “The injection of Western sovereignty” signifies the reorganization of the traditional Middle Eastern landscape according to the Western nation-state form. Consequently, the injection of a new type of political unit, that is, the modern state, entailed two important consequences: first, the redefinition of relations among equal units, and second, the redefinition of relations of these units with the people they contain.

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The rise of Western-state systems in the Arab Middle East introduced new forms into foreign and domestic politics. To begin with, the well-known Western model of the anarchical structure composed of centralized, territorial, and sovereign nation-states asserted itself.12 The notion “Western model” relies on the Weberian definition of nation-state, of which “monopoly on the use of force in a sovereign territory” is an essential part. This nation-state entity is based on a group of people who are bound by homogenous citizenship. Certainly, this model had a long developmental process that threw up new patterns in foreign policy and new regional actors in the Middle East. The injection of the Western nation-state introduced new patterns of power and authority, and new state–society relations. “Nation-state” refers to uniformity in political organization, economic activity, and to the related processes such as cultural expression and education. This uniformity is daily reproduced by the rational organization that tolerates only one army, one police force, one bureaucracy, and one law to govern all citizens who, qua citizens, enjoy equal rights and have the same duties. This rational organization removes all social and religious barriers, and a new political space is created, for citizens can now compete on their merits, unfettered by heritage (primordial origin).13 Defined in this way, the Westernization of the region amounted to the introduction of new forms and patterns into domestic and foreign politics. A study of the limits of sovereignty should focus on both the domestic and the foreign levels, as inapplicability may hold on both levels. The sense of “sovereignty” in this book does not subsume matters concerning foreign policy. Focus, therefore, is on state–society relations, which calls attention to the importance of sovereignty in the domestic realm. Thus, reference to “sovereignty crisis” is not reference to an international crisis. It is a reference to important domestic problems, such as the failure of the citizenship function, the lack of an effective central authority, or the absence of a taxbased economic contract between state and society. Sovereignty crisis in the domestic realm may manifest also as an ethnic uprising against the central authority, or as the ascendancy of tribal or sectarian loyalty over citizenship. Discrimination against women is also a display of sovereignty crisis. Sovereignty in the Arab states has generally been studied in the context of foreign policy. Scholars, taking the realist approach, have frequently analyzed high politics to arrive at conclusions about the application of sovereignty in the Arab world. They have therefore automatically focused on foreign-policy developments, such as Arab unionism, political unification projects, and territorial conflicts. This, however, results in a methodological reductionism that comes to light in questions that probe in the following ways: Does the Gulf War show that the state systems of the region have consolidated? Does the end of pan-Arabism mean the final consolidation of Westphalian principles in the region? Or, more recently: Does the invasion of Kuwait show that sovereignty has settled? No doubt, such questions refer to important indicators. However, it is a fact that all of them deal with the international aspects of sovereignty.

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Although they are important, the problems they canvass cannot in themselves test the consolidation of sovereignty at all levels. Also, a pure foreignpolicy approach may produce wrong conclusions even about state–state relations when the reductionist’s terms of reference center narrowly on the international realm. This book proposes state–society relations as the realm that yields the most perspicacious conclusions about the applicability of Western-type sovereignty criteria as the basic point of analytical departure. In short, this book submits that a study of sovereignty necessitates a complex investigation of statehood in the domestic realm. It therefore aligns “sovereignty” and “statehood” as the ultimate achievement points of state formation in the Middle East. The aim is to demonstrate how sovereignty is realized in a Western format imbued with primordial patterns. Therefore, the distinction “between the historical patterns of patrimonialism and the more recent legal-bureaucratic norms”14 in the Arab world is assumed to be the distinction of paramount importance. It is a fact that most countries of the Arab world fall somewhere along the spectrum that descends from well-established states to virtual states (the statelets).15 The existential gap between the well-established states and the statelets is cut by the relatively high content in the former of modern-state legal-bureaucratic norms, and relatively high content in the latter of the historic patterns of patrimonialism. States in which the influence of historic patterns of patrimonialism is high are attributed the value “weak states.”16 In other words, primordial and traditional patterns of behavior remain prevalent in the weak states despite the formal injection of legal-bureaucratic norms. This prevalence is the originator of sovereignty crises at domestic and international levels. The second auxiliary argument is in the explanation this book propounds of the outcome of the encounter between the Western-model and traditional political forms. The outcome is important: on the one hand, new, Western-like forms and practices were injected, on the other, traditional forms survived. The inevitable outcome was a mixture of Western and traditional forms. What can happen when an alien model is injected into an indigenous one? The Middle East was injected with a made-in-Europe model of the nation-state. And the result was the friction of national pretensions and historic structures.17 As in other geographic regions, this encounter in the Arab regions created an “awkward, ambiguous, unsatisfactory and tragic combination.”18 This book calls the combination just described “hybrid.” Hybridization is not limited to some Arab countries or some aspects of Arab life. It is a reality at all levels in all Arab societies. The second auxiliary argument, then, is that there is a discernable sociopolitical condition that is aptly called “hybrid sovereignty.” The isolation of the condition hybrid sovereignty acknowledges that a powerful state and homogenous society on the Weberian-state model does not exist in the Arab Middle East. It acknowledges also that hybrid sovereignty accepts the coexistence of tribal (or communitarian) networks and ethno-religious loyalties and the modern state format. This study aims to illustrate this accepted coexistence of forms in Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq by

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pointing out the colonially injected Western forms and the traditional forms that realize the sociopolitical conditions of these three states. As this illustration shapes up to a panoramic picture, it will become clear how hybrid sovereignty is ipso facto limited sovereignty. Tilting the panoramic picture somewhat, it might be remarked that the Arab states were hybridized by history. They have been under the influence of competing trends and models for more then two centuries. But change is a difficult issue, and formal changes to the institutions and functions of the state and government do not necessarily reflect, or even imply, serious structural and conceptual changes. This simple fact might account for the hybrid nature of Arab states. When project and model have interacted, neither the injected model nor the traditional form manages to become the decisively dominant one. Arab states would have been inconceivable without the European system. They therefore originated in the European system. But, despite their origin, Arab states have harbored another wish, which is to “go their on way.”19 As no society gives way to change totally, the colonizers could not impose a system of rule in the Arab world unilaterally. Colonialism involved constant negotiation, power relationships, and identity recognitions. Even though one acknowledges the huge influence of the Western model in the region, it remains improbable that this influence has ever been capable of delivering the simple, cut-and-dried formula that covers all local contingencies and provides solutions to all problems that may arise in it. After all, the influence we are referring to is that of a foreign culture with a political experience vastly different form the Arab experience.20 It is much more reasonable to allow that multiple levels of identity coexist, in their various ways, in the Arab world today, 21 and some of them are unaffected by the foreign influence, no matter how powerful it is. Hybrid sovereignty refers both to the inapplicability of the Western type of sovereignty criterion and to the consequences of the Arab states’ position between modernity and tradition. The hybrid-sovereignty approach argues that the Western conceptualization of sovereignty is inapplicable in the Arab Middle East. However, at the same time, it recognizes the constructive clash between the Western model and local forms. That is, “hybrid” means the co-existence of modern and traditional practices, and this meaning entails the recognition that Western sovereignty is realized in a limited way. For example, Arab states were demarcated according to the given national borders. This was a state construct injected by colonial rule. Certainly, this Western construct has survived as a largely successful colonial legacy. But primordial identities and patterns coexist with citizenship within these Western-like borders. In many places, the central governments deploy tribal or sectarian policies. There is therefore hybrid sovereignty, and a Western type of sovereignty criterion is an inapplicable criterion in this context. However, due to the constructive clash between the Western model and the local context, certain Western legacies exist successfully in the hybrid situation. The Middle Eastern epistemologies, traditions, and cultures have undoubtedly processed sovereignty. The intercourse between two completely different

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models has produced a hybrid strain of sovereignty that is neither completely Western nor traditional. Hybridization is the inevitable product of the colonial presence in a different culture. The injected European model was thus processed within a Middle Eastern configuration. Unlike “semi-,” “quasi-,” or “less,” the word “hybrid” does not refer to a hierarchy of models. The hybrid-sovereignty approach criticizes the purely Eurocentric terminology that classifies non-Western states as semi-states, unsuccessful states, and failed states. There is no reason to believe that the West has a monopoly on constitutional wisdom.22 It was the dominating European force that injected the Western model into different cultural zones. The superiority of Western power was behind the expansion of the Western model. There have always been different local traditions of statehood in nonEuropean lands. Thus, in no way has the Western experience been the only basis of statehood. The researcher should, therefore, recognize an encounter model that is the result of the collision of Western and non-Western practices. Thus this book does not suggest that an Arab state has failed because it has not become a Western state. What we have is not a failure, but a differentness that derives from diverse cultural and traditional conditions. Difference is just the reflection of natural singularity. This book treats difference as the consequence of the encounter of two models. Arab nationalist leaders have been in search of a modern-bureaucratic state on the basis of citizenship. Indeed, one may talk about the failure of that elite, but the idea of the failure of a more complex societal formation seems incoherent. The concept of “failure” should be afforded a two-level analysis: on the theoretical level, one cannot propose that one model is better than another, or that one model should have evolved into another. There is no dedicated teleology that prescribes the shape of the relationship between cultures, models, or civilizations. One cannot label an Arab state, or any other, as a failed one, or propose the Western model’s rectitude. As already noted, non-Western Arab samples reflect their modern and traditional culture. The natural outcome of a specific cultural milieu cannot be called a failure. Their characterization can occur only in the strictly neutral terms of modernist narrative. Nothing amounts to a justification of a claim that the Arab culture is incapable of producing an efficient state structure. Like all other cultures, it can. But the equation of “efficient” and “Western” is barely meaningful. The impossibility of a Western model does not mean the impossibility of an efficient model. But, on the practical level, leaders and projects that aim to construct a specific type of model can be evaluated in terms of failure or success. It is clear that there are many cases in the Arab world that confirm failures. For instance, the failure of the Iraqi project is a recent case, and the failure of creating a Jordanian citizenship to encompass all groups in the country is another. Thus we have failed projects and failed leadership. Both can be seen to have undervalued the effect of the survival of traditional forms in the Western model. Indeed, the Arab elite’s intention was to create a Western type of state in their homelands. However, complex social structures

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cannot be altered by political agendas. In other words, complex social and political structures have their own causal transformation, which is more complex than political projects or intentions.23 The hybrid-sovereignty approach distinguishes itself from those that describe the Arab state as failed. On the hybrid-sovereignty approach, the transformation of complex social structures is not a job, therefore not a feat to which the political elite and their agendas are equal. In other words, the hybrid-sovereignty approach differentiates “agent” and “structure.” The juxtaposition of “structure” and “failure” may therefore be misleading. The causal nexus at the structural level is naturally more complex. The complicated relationship between agent and structure at least states that human agents and social structures are, in one way or another, theoretically interdependent or mutually implicating entities.24 Agent-based studies are likely to come up with facile reductionist “failure” discourses. Analyses of structure avoid such mistakes. The hybrid-sovereignty approach conducts a structure-based analysis, and is critical of the agentbased analyses that have deduced “failure” conclusions. Terms such as “quasi-” and “semi-” imply that all non-Western states are in the process of becoming perfect copies of Western states. Rejecting this quasi-teleology, the hybrid-sovereignty approach recognizes the importance of Western influence but sets aside the assumption that the Arab states (their elite bracketed) are on a historical march to Western-state status. These states are merely displaying their conditions and nature. Because of the differences between Western and non-Western models, a hybrid outcome is inevitable. Thus the emergence of this hybridity is normal, not a symptom of failure. The inapplicability of several parts of the Western sovereignty concept in developing states is the outcome of the natural limits/differences of areas. Accordingly, only some aspects of the Western format can function in those areas. It is unrealistic to find the whole Westphalian format integrated into in a complex traditional form. In general, this book, with its basic and auxiliary arguments, may contribute to the relevant literature in several ways: The hybrid-sovereignty approach may promote a finer understanding of hybrid-sovereign societies, for it necessarily concerns itself with their basic structural problem: the coexistence of traditional and modern patterns. Doing this, the hybridsovereignty approach encourages the reader to reflect on how institutions function on a dual basis. It may shed light also on the complicated relations between the agent (the colonial or nationalist modernizer) and the structure (the traditional society). For example, in line with Western states, there are parliaments, central bureaucracies, and citizenship codes in many Arab states. However, at sharp odds with structural affinity, these institutions operate mostly on primordial patterns: parliaments are populated on the basis of tribal quotas and religious groups, not through the ballot box. But, tribal and sectarian factions both defend subnational and transnational patterns, respectively. Thus, politics is not a game on the basis of citizenship but a competition among the various primordial powers.

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In this context, again despite the citizenship-based codes, tribal, regional, or sectarian patronage has been courted knowingly and purposefully. Aware of the failure of national identity, central governments have turned to the traditional seats of power to protect regime stability. In simple terms, citizens in hybrid-sovereign states are variously esteemed by the de facto law. The hybrid-sovereignty approach is helpful also for unraveling the operational logic of the condition in which the modern and the traditional coexist behind the formal appearance of statehood. (It should be recalled that hybrid characteristics are evident in some societies today.) Bias of the semi-state/ quasi-state kind is totally avoided by the hybrid-sovereignty approach. This is likely to appeal to people who have tired of the terminological bias of some analytical approaches. It is worth emphasizing that this book investigates sovereignty at a state–society level, which is materially different from the traditional foreignpolicy-based approaches: state–society level institutions and forms are the loci investigated for evidence of the limits of Western sovereignty in Middle Eastern states. A pure foreign-policy approach fails in explaining the domestic sphere of Arab politics: the colonially injected Western sovereignty does not introduce new patterns and forms only at the foreign-policy level. An approach that confines itself to that level inevitably misses the sovereignty-regarding domestic dimensions and developments. The fixation on foreign politics is likely to yield reductionist conclusions, such as the one that claims to have found evidence of the consolidation of Western-type sovereignty in the waning of pan-Arabism. Indeed, even though the decline of pan-Arabism is important, it should not be mistaken for a sign of the consolidation of Western sovereignty. The hybridsovereignty approach shows why not: the failure of state–society boundaries such as citizenship speaks eloquently of hybrid sovereignty, not of the consolidation of a Western type of sovereignty. Domestic boundaries reveal the state structure’s causal mechanism. So these structures themselves hold the key to explanations of international events such as the decline of pan-Arabism.

Showcasing the Case Studies This book addresses the issue of sovereignty in the Arab Middle East with special reference to Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq. The procedure is investigative, shaping itself around three fundamental questions: (i) Given that one is observing the results of the encounter of different models, can one explain the nature of statehood and sovereignty in the Arab lands in terms of what this encounter generated? (ii) If the encounter was consequential, how does that affect the Arab states today? (iii) If plausible answers suggest themselves, can one find concrete cases to confirm them? The data from which answers to these questions are abstracted includes both qualitative and quantitative items. The primary research sources were official public documents and the mass media. To ensure validity and reliability, the qualitative data extracted from official documents, newspapers, legal documents, and parliamentary debates is supported with quantitative statistical data.

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Three case studies elaborate this book’s main thesis. They yield the hard data and the salient events that support it. R. K. Yin defines case study as the empirical inquiry that investigates a contemporary phenomenon in its reallife context when the boundaries between the phenomenon and its context are not clearly evident, and the investigation turns to multiple sources of evidence.25 However, what counts as a case can be as flexible as the researcher’s definition of the subject.26 It is a fact that certain kinds of cases may be regarded as more instructive than others for theory building.27 At more practical levels, the purpose of a case study differs in accordance with the researcher’s philosophical perspectives. As often argued, it may be useful to try to select cases that are typical or representative of other cases. As Stake warns, a sample of one or a sample of just a few is unlikely to be representative of others. But case-study research is not sampling research. Scientists do not study a case just to understand other cases. The first obligation is to understand the case under scrutiny.28 The goal is to develop preliminary concepts at the outset of a case study. The aim of this effort is to place the case study in its appropriate research-literature context. Deft placement improves the likelihood of a case study’s adding to knowledge about and understanding of a topic.29 Advised by these discussions, this book selected Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq as cases that would serve several purposes. Since the basic thesis of the study is the inapplicability of the Westernsovereignty criterion in colonially created Arab states, all three cases are typical in that they represent a category of cases, and they have matching historical backgrounds. The selection of more than one case is a methodological necessity, given the complexity of the subject matter. It is a fact that a study of sovereignty in a defined area should deal with a number of topics. Since it pertains to very complex processes and developments, a sovereigntybased study necessitates the analysis of cases that will together yield more than any single case would. Thus, the researcher needs cases that are both typical and individual. The three cases studied in this book were selected for their capacity to be more instructive than others. The choice of case-study type depends on the context it is to fit. Notwithstanding this pragmatism, a researcher does not have unlimited freedom of choice. As Robert Stake says: “a case study is not a methodological choice, but a choice of object to be studied.”30 Several facts and developments force a researcher to select some cases and not others. Several important developments in Iraq, Jordan, and Kuwait commend these states to a researcher of sovereignty as very important “object[s] to be studied,” or in other words, as critical-instance cases. Iraq occupied Kuwait in 1990. The U.S.-led Coalition forces invaded Iraq in 2003 and established new rule by ending Saddam Hussein’s regime. Now, domestic and international actors are trying to construct a new regime. Undoubtedly, these developments are very significant for sovereignty studies. Jordan attracts too, but for quite other reasons. There was a leadership succession in that country after forty-six years. As a colonial creation without any natural resources to support its survival, Jordan, a dependent state, struggles to comply with the

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post–Cold War conditions. The recent Bread Riots in Jordan were a significant betrayal of the crisis in the political system here. Thus, recent developments have put forward this state as a crucial sample. As Eckstein reminded: “. . . the essential abstract characteristic of a crucial case can be deduced from its function as a test of theory. It is a case that must closely fit a theory if one is to have confidence in the theory’s validity, or, conversely, must not fit equally well any rule contrary to that proposed.”31 The case studies in this book are selected because they stand out as “most likely” cases. The special discrete conditions of most likely cases can necessitate the abandonment of a theory. Kuwait, Iraq, and Jordan are presentable as most likely cases. In each case, the Western model and Western actors played an enormous role in creating and forming the political system. All three states are colonial creations. Colonial actors injected many Western institutions. Additionally, each case experienced a similar Westernization process during the Ottoman period. Problems related to this historical background are evident in each state. It is important to determine whether Western model-criteria are applicable or inapplicable even in these typical Western re-creation cases. A study of the venture of Western-type sovereignty into the most likely cases of colonial creation may lead to important discoveries about how one should analyze the Arab state. Apart from these generalized reasons, there are several specific reasons for the choice of each case. Iraq Recent decades have made a laboratory of Iraq for sovereignty studies. Iraq stands as a unique case because of the nature of the events that have played themselves out there. Iraqi sovereignty has collapsed, and there are several reasons for this. Foremost among them is that this country was occupied by foreign powers. Its domestic regime was changed. A new regime was established with the help of occupying forces. There were significant events also in the foregoing decades: Several ethnic and sectarian groups have ruled different parts of Iraq for more than a decade. The overlapping regional authorities there are reminiscent of a medievalist structure. Along with its uniqueness, Iraq is a typical colonial creation. The implantation of many Western concepts and institutions was intensive there. It was a colonial project created from three former provinces of the Ottoman Empire. These provinces were redesigned according to the Western model on the bases of citizenship and national boundaries. Thus, Iraq’s historical background is information rich. It is an apt case for deliberation along the following lines: How were Western institutions injected? How did the tribal reaction manifest? How was the nation-state created? What form did the tension between primordial identities and citizenship take? How did a hybrid structure develop? In sum, beyond its historical dimension, the Iraqi case presents all the problems and evidence germane to a study of sovereignty.

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Jordan Another colonial creation, Jordan has a history that presents rich information about the venture of Western-type sovereignty into the Middle East. Further facts also add to Jordan’s importance in sovereignty studies: As an artificial creation, Jordan has been without natural and economic resources since its formation. Consequently, it has depended on the international system for its survival. “Budget security” has become an essential determinant of Jordanian domestic and foreign politics.32 A creature of the expansion of the state system, Jordan’s ongoing dependence on the system (for economic and strategic reasons) presents important evidence for the study of sovereignty. Given this structure, . . . the extent to which international and domestic debate produces consensus, and whether these public spheres reinforce or oppose each other, are key variables for determining the durability of behavioral change [in Jordan].33

An analysis of how international and domestic debate affects Jordan also yields important evidence. Asher Susser says: . . . the Palestinian–Jordan cleavage is a twentieth-century phenomenon. It is a product of state formation and modernization in the Middle East in the aftermath of the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire.34

Thus, a study of sovereignty may benefit much from acquaintance with such a system-wide fact. Since it is the product of state formation and modernization, the Palestinian problem is important in studying the limits of state sovereignty in the Middle East. It can be argued that the Palestinians have been one of the biggest obstacles to the realization of Westphalian sovereignty. First, they are in several states as an extraterritorial people. Their presence has created many problems for the maintenance of central authority, the formulating of national foreign policy, and border control. Undoubtedly, all these problems are obstacles for governments seeking to establish sovereign statehood. The Palestinian cause has slowed down the consolidation of national identities in the region. Their presence in many Arab states with their Arabist extraterritorial, and to some extent Islamist, transnational identity has unquestionably slowed down the consolidation of national identities in the Arab Middle East. In order to cope with recent developments in the region, Jordan has launched a late nation-building campaign. This campaign is reportedly a strong one, benefiting from previous failed ones, and aware of the need for a new, modern strategy. The campaign aims to make a new social contract as its basic target. Therefore, several recent developments in Jordan present very rich information about national identity and social contract. Since these developments are still ongoing in Jordan, an analysis may throw timely light

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on the problems of sovereignty. That is, this late campaign is a contemporary sample of a nation-building project that means to bring a state in line with the Western model. Kuwait Developments such as the invasion of Kuwait by Iraq have made this case much more problematic. The formation of a Western-type state in Kuwait is important from several perspectives: The traditional balance of power between the ruling dynasty and the merchants was transformed into a political contract in a Western form. A piece of land without an identity and boundary became a sovereign member of the state system. To a large extent, the change was only on paper. The traditional contract between merchants and the ruling family continued within the form of the modern state. In this era, Kuwait in fact had an inadequate population, given its limited economic opportunities. Indeed, it was the strategic and economic interests of Britain that were behind the transformation of this land into a new territorial state. Another very important issue is the rentier economic structure in Kuwait. Actually, economic structure impacts on sovereignty in all the Arab states. However, Kuwait’s case is particularly perspicacious in an analysis of how the economy and sovereignty are linked: It shows how economic structure may limit the realization of sovereignty, and it illustrates how economic structure may perpetuate traditional patterns in the modern state format. The oil boom transformed Kuwait, once a traditional society without a significant population or economy. First, there was a population boom, with thousands of foreign workers invading the country. Then oil revenue rescued the ruling families from the merchants’ ability to hold sway over them, and this changed the political structure totally. The government, facing acute problems (the traditional merchants, the demographic dominance of foreigners), found its position bolstered by oil revenue. This resulted in a new social contract. This social contract, the basis of the rentier-state model, is an intriguing case in a study of sovereignty. It sheds light on how a regional economic structure may limit the success of Western-type statehood. As a typical outcome of rapid change, there is a large bidun (without nationality) group in Kuwait. Though the bidun had inhabited the region for centuries, many failed to obtain citizenship. To boot, the government does not want to extend citizenship to them. How a group of indigenous people became bidun reveals many details of the problems caused by the injection of alien models into the region.

Structure of the Book The reader is inducted into the concerns of this book with an initial chapter that describes its theoretical framework. The meaning of “injection of

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Western forms and institutions” is explained here, as is the full thrust of “the Middle East was reorganized.” The usages “Western forms” and “the traditional institutions” are clarified also, such that “the clash between Western and non-Western forms” comes to make ready sense. The demands of a line of reasoning that theorizes “sovereignty” are made known, and the purport of this book’s central proposal, “hybrid sovereignty,” is explained and justified. Care is taken to make the point that, as a contingent concept, sovereignty is always related to the relevant context. It is a divisible concept. So the question “Who is sovereign?” necessarily extracts an answer from a variety of perspectives. In other words, in any specific Arab Middle Eastern context, some aspects of sovereignty might be lacking, but not all of them. The dimensions of the concept “hybrid sovereign” are laid out painstakingly. Hybrid sovereigns are neither Western nor traditional. They are the creatures of colonialism. And it is the colonized terrain that produces hybridity. The hybrid context cannot be evaluated with criteria that pertain to Western sovereignty. Those criteria are inapplicable to it. This inapplicability thesis recognizes the institutionalization of several Western practices, but it does not allow the Western sovereignty criteria alone to provide the characterization of specific Arab state situations. Aware that a historical account is both pertinent to the discussion and a welcome anchor for the reader, such an account is provided for Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq. Its focus is the Westernization of the Arab Middle East. This inevitably takes in the historical details of what amounted to the structural hybridization of the Arab political scene. It is acknowledged that the period most responsible for this is the British colonial period. All the same, the contribution of the Ottoman period of rule to the modernization process is given close attention. It is hoped that against the backdrop of these initial theory and history expositions, the reader can discern the analytical intention of the case studies. It is hoped also that the reader will concede, and perhaps even endorse, the validity of the analytical procedures of this book for their assiduous avoidance of bias.

1

The Theoretical Framework Hybrid Sovereignty: Origin, Definition, and the Symptoms From the seventeenth century onward, Western sovereignty was injected into Arab regions by methods such as unequal treaties, capitulations, protectorate systems, conventions, contracts, coercion, and imposition.1 In a system in which the dominant actors were Western, it is not surprising that the concept of sovereignty is arranged according to a Western paradigm. Western sovereignty, thanks to the current distribution of power in the international system, has visible dominance over other types. Non-Western states are expected to follow and adopt Western interpretations of sovereignty, as the distribution of power has shaped the system-wide circulation of that specific type of sovereignty. Thus, the worldwide supremacy of Western sovereignty should be analyzed within the context of an eternal struggle between Western and traditional paradigms. Undoubtedly, the expansion of the state system was also the expansion of Western spatial imaginaries.2 The expansion, inevitably, saw a clash of native and European forms. This was so because social change never happens abruptly: It is impossible to remove entirely the practices and institutions of the established local system and hence traces of it remain embedded in the imported forms.

The Structural Nature of Hybrid Sovereignty The clash between the Western and the traditional led to the creation of a hybrid form. Hybrid sovereignty emerges when traditional patterns survive in the colonially injected Western-state format. Hybrid sovereignty is neither a Western sovereignty form nor a traditional form. It came into being on non-European terrains via European expansion and colonization. Hybrid sovereignty is the product of the clash between the de jure and the de facto practices deployed in the colonially imposed state structure. This clash resounded as the non-Western interpretation of Western institutions. The de jure structures of Western sovereignty somehow allow the de facto practices of the displaced traditional governance to remain operative.3 These de facto

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practices have impeded the full realization of Western sovereignty. Thus the Western project of displacing traditional forms of governance with a fullfledged model of modern sovereignty has never been realized. A version of modern sovereignty, one that is limited by traditional modes of operation, has been the pinnacle of the Western project’s success. The non-European “units” subjected to that project also became the subjects of anxiety that must arise when their habitual, or traditional, mode of governance is injected with an unfamiliar, modern model. The logical outcome of this existential condition is the hybrid-sovereignty model, that is, a model that allows only the limited realization of the Western sovereignty model. Sovereignty in Two Realms: The International and the Domestic The modern international system evolved from the pure, seminal model of sovereignty that became established in Europe during the Late Middle Ages. That is, the modern international system is the latest incarnation of a politicalterritorial order that has its roots in late-medieval Europe.4 Late-medieval Europe saw the crosscutting jurisdictions of feudal lords, emperors, kings, and popes give way to territorially defined authorities. The modern concept of sovereignty was formulated with the emergence of territorial states. The Treaty of Westphalia (1648) was its jurisprudential crystallization. (One should, however, keep in mind that there are several evaluations of this Treaty’s historical significance.)5 This agreement decreed that all of Europe was to be divided into distinct and sovereign states with defined boundaries.6 The Westphalian model can be depicted as the universal model of sovereignty in which the state is the supreme authority. All sovereign states are equal before the law. The process of law-making, the settlement of disputes, and law enforcement are the domain of the state, subject only to the logic of the competitive struggle for power among states. In the Westphalian model, sovereignty is the organizing or constitutive principle of state. Differences among states are often settled by force. International law is oriented to the establishment of the minimal rules of coexistence.7 An international constitution therefore consists of a set of norms devised and agreed on by the polities who determine the holders of authority and their prerogatives. In other words, an international constitution helps us answer questions such as: Who are the legitimate polities? What are the rules for becoming one of these polities?8 The institutionalization of sovereignty as a new international constitutional concept yielded the various answers to those questions. Essential to all of them was the recognition of the centrality of the territorial state.9 Sovereignty determines the identity of a unit in the system. Sovereignty, defining the identity of the basic unit, determines the nature of that unit, and it determines the relationship of that unit with other units. Relations of states are different from the relations of city-states or empires. Thus sovereignty shapes behavioral forms in modern international systems.

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It makes states representable. It gives them the status of participants in a community of states.10 In so doing, sovereignty produces legitimacy at the system level. It is a kind of admission ticket to the international society.11 As Onuf writes, majesty is distributed formally and equally among states through sovereignty.12 Sovereignty becomes, therefore, a protection mechanism for states. Any violation of it is strictly illegitimate, even taboo. Sovereignty identifies legitimacy. A sovereign state is an independent state in which no other authority or state can have a role. It has exclusive authority to rule within its own borders. Sovereignty as a legitimacy-producing institution constructs related norms such as self-preservation, independence, equality, and respect. Thus, despite the anarchic nature of an international system, a system-level order can exist. Finally, sovereignty determines also the borders of a system. It delineates authority according to function, not to geography.13 The boundaries of state can be described as the imaginary lines on the surface of the earth that separate the territory of one state from that of another, or from inappropriate territory, or from the Open Sea.14 The demarcation of the land is the basis of international law in that states occupy a definite part of the surface of the globe within which they are legitimate authorities exercising their jurisdiction over everything.15 For this reason, a thesis of the logical interdependence between sovereignty and space has gained acceptance.16 Today the demarcation of territory between sovereign states is a typical outcome of modern knowledge.17 Gilpin notes that what is called international political change has primarily been a matter of the redistribution of territory after war.18 Bounded territorial spaces distinguish the modern state from all other types of organization.19 Thus, the modern state appears as the geographical container of modern society.20 The demarcation of territories by boundaries influences all other social and political practices by producing several normative consequences.21 By matching state and space, the state is placed outside of time and elevated.22 It is only after space has come to be treated as “the dead, the fixed, the undialectic, and the immobile” that the veneration of the state is fully accomplished.23 Also, the line between the domestic and the external is clarified by the drawing of boundaries that puts “the other” out of bounds.24 States, of course, perceive the anarchic external as a source of instability and insecurity. In contrast to the anarchic external, the boundary-defined, territorial domestic terrain assures group cohesion. This discussion so far has conceptualized sovereignty on the state–state (international) level. However, the sovereignty concept is very important on the state–society (domestic) level also, for the rise of the modern territorial state has created a new design in the domestic realm: state–society boundaries. In other words, the territorial state was as revolutionary a development in domestic politics as it was in foreign politics. This brings us to the idea of sovereignty in which the emphasis is squarely on its domestic sense. This sense of sovereignty refers to the norms and rules of how the modern state is organized.

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On a historical timetable, no state in the present sense of the term existed before the modern era.25 Several stages preceded the rise of the modern state. The first was the era of the traditional tribute-taking empires, which brought into being the feudal model that depended on the divided-authority principle. The second stage was the emergence of the polity of states. The rise of the absolutist state was the third stage, which heralded the early signs of the centralized, uniform modern state. The final stage was the emergence of the modern state.26 The modern, absolutist state can be seen as the final capitulation of the medieval system to the modern state system. The early absolutist states were primitive models of modern statehood. Administrative apparatuses that foreshadowed the permanent, professional bureaucracies and armies of the modern state were first seen during the rise of absolutist states in Western Europe.27 Not surprisingly, the location of sovereignty changed in each evolutionary stage of the modern state. For example, the absolutist monarch was the only location of sovereignty in the primitive absolutist state. This clarity was no longer in evidence during the Middle Ages due to the crosscutting structures of the age. In the postabsolutist era (the modern era), the location of sovereignty is also not very clear; the rise of the bureaucracy and of other state apparatuses blurred the location of sovereignty. The modern state has a built-in balancing mechanism: Bureaus with overlapping functions act to limit the power of any single branch of the state. This makes the state a labyrinth for public agencies.28 The preceding summary of the historical evolution of the modern state is important in sovereignty studies. Since sovereignty is also about the domestic, its locus and meaning have changed in parallel with the evolution of the state. The essential nexus of state and sovereignty determines how the latter is organized in the domestic realm. Anthony Smith defines “state” as the institution that refers exclusively to public institutions, is autonomous and differentiated from other social institutions, and exercises a monopoly on coercion and extraction in a given territory.29 Two components of his definition attract attention: (i) the state is differentiated from other institutions or groups in society and it is autonomous; (ii) the state has a monopoly on exercising violence (“coercion and extraction”) within its territory. This brings to mind the well-known Weberian discourse on the modern state. The state, according to Weber, has a monopoly on the legitimate use of organized power.30 Weber reminds that sovereignty is decisive in state– society relations also. In this way, the problem of the ruler and the ruled becomes the crux of the matter.31 Therefore, sovereignty in the modern state is also about the norms, rules, and institutions through which the state– society boundaries are formulated and practiced. And naturally, the institutionalization of boundaries is not the same in domestic and international realms. Unlike its limited agential power in the international realm, the state has absolute power in domestic politics.32 Sovereignty entails unfettered control

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of internal and external affairs, and notably, of the domestic population. Dewey, quoting Austin in 1894, in fact states: “The party truly independent is not the society, but the sovereign portion of the society.”33 The sovereignty concept is ideologically loaded in that it entails responsibility for the state’s internal consolidation, and thus the license to purify the domain of opposition, silence alternative voices, and eliminate dissent.34 Thus, state–society boundaries are strictly binding, more so than the looser state–state boundaries. State–society boundaries are the natural components of statehood. Once the state is defined as, and accepted as, an autonomous institution of society,35 it has to be accepted also that states have interests, they make decisions, and they act in the world.36 In other words, there cannot be a perfect match between a state power and a people: the good of individuals and the good of the state are separate things; the state has its own “concrete existence.”37 The state should be an autonomous actor. It depends on alienation even in the most democratic and pluralist societies. An attempt to abolish state autonomy in the name of maximum popularization would without doubt bring the end of the state. Ultimately, the state is an imagined structure. Thus, people exercising public authority in the name of the state is an example of perfect alienation. Their authority does not in any way originate from their individuality but from their attributed/imagined positions within state authority. Thus the existence of the state naturally creates such imagined categories. These imagined characteristics of the state entail certain borders, forms, and patterns between state and people. This is consistent with Smith’s idea that there is a reference to borders when there is a contemplation of how the state is differentiated from other institutions or groups in society. To clarify the link between sovereignty and domestic boundaries, Joel Migdal’s state-in-society approach is also helpful. Like Smith and Weber, he is concerned with the importance of domestic boundaries.38 Migdal defines “state” as the image of a coherent, controlling organization in a territory that is a representation of the people bounded by the territory. Once the state is defined as an image, it is posited ipso facto that that political entity has two sorts of boundaries. One is the territorial boundary between the state and other states. These political boundaries refer to the classical notion of sovereignty among states that has created certain norms, among them the principle of nonintervention. The other is the social boundary between the state and those subject to its rule. In this way the state is separated from, or elevated above, the non-state actors and social forces. Any social actor or process that does not recognize this elevation brings on a sovereignty crisis at the domestic level. The social boundaries between state and society are the materiel of stateness. All state practices—such as citizenship, passports, and border markers— exist to establish social boundaries. These practices serve to recognize, and validate, not only the territorial elements of state control but also the social separation between the state and other social formations. Therefore, all social actors are expected to recognize state practices and standards. The

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boundaries between state and society at the domestic level are essential for creating the basic institutions of modern statehood, among them the essential institution of citizenship. These institutions, neutral and rational in a modern/Weberian-state sense, then create a political structure that is set to maintain an equality-based relationship between people and state. States are neutral and rational in that they reject preferences (such as tribal or local), and thrive on objective, anticipatable, accountable, and transparent institutions (such as taxation, the law). The actors’ relations with the state are organized by these neutral and objective institutions.39 If any social group makes a bid, one that is largely successful, to validate other institutions (for instance, tribalism) there will certainly be a crisis of sovereignty. Therefore, as they seek to protect boundaries in international relations, states seek also to protect boundaries in domestic politics. Sovereignty displays the Janus-faced nature of the state. The state organizes itself in both the external and the domestic milieu on the sovereignty principle of boundaries. The institutionalization of sovereignty is the protection of the boundaries that are in place to secure the ultimate state authority against challenge from the people of that state or from external actors. Thus, states quickly seek to hinder, and punish when possible, any kind of sovereignty-violating movement in either the international or the domestic domains. States should protect themselves from all kinds of external and domestic threats since their sovereignty is the proof of their capacity for statehood. In sharp departure from the traditional view that sees sovereignty as a typical foreign-policy matter, it is proposed in this book that the domestic realm is an equally important sovereignty context. The foregoing discussion enables a definition of sovereignty as the power that effects on all levels the legitimate organization of a society and its international relations. In this definition, sovereignty is the keyword to understanding state authority. Furthermore, sovereignty refers to how power is organized and distributed. Sovereignty is first the distributor of power in a society and in the international system. How power is produced and distributed directly affects sovereignty. When it comes to domestic politics, power is not found in a society without a structure. Each society structures and organizes power. This is called legitimate authority. How sovereignty influences all the levels, parts, and sectors of a society is acknowledged in the definition given above. All parts of a society should be under the control of the organized authority.40 Power in an established society references legitimate authority. Similarly, in the domestic realm the organizer of power, the authority, should be accepted as legitimate by all related actors. Authority can be established by democratic or antidemocratic ways. Indeed, unlike in classical Bodinian thought, how authority is obtained directly influences the realization of sovereignty.41 It often happens that antidemocratic regimes cannot control all parts of their national territories, and they face crises when regional resistance penetrates their authority. If the only criterion of whether authority is organized in a society at all levels was the legitimacy of that authority, there

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would be more penetration of antidemocratic systems; lack of penetration shows that authority is not felt at several levels. This is a sign that sovereignty is violated. When it comes to international relations, its sovereignty authorizes the state to occupy the status of member of equal standing with other members of the system. But legitimacy originates from the system in the form of recognition (international legal sovereignty). This legitimacy is the guarantee of the state’s full and equal membership in the international society. The system prohibits all acts against members. The prohibition protects the member’s sovereignty. Its sovereignty is the state’s right of entry as the equal of other states into the political, economic, and security forums of the international system. As in domestic politics, states forbid the violation of their sovereignty in this sphere. Explaining how and why some states face different types of sovereignty crisis becomes important here. But the failure of states to realize some or all boundaries of sovereignty at the state–society level is a complex issue. In general, the reason for such problems is threefold: (i) consent, (ii) weakness, and (iii) hybridization. A particular sovereignty problem may originate from any of them. For example, Western states may participate in different organizations or processes in which several parts of their state sovereignty are “violated.” At issue is whether these Western states permitted the “violation” of their sovereignty.42 A state may reorganize its authority such that it ceases to protect its sovereignty in a particular sphere. Such consent-based configurations can neither be called violations of sovereignty nor do they constitute sovereignty crises.43 Noting instances of consensual sovereignty violations, some scholars have claimed that a new medievalism is coming to the fore in Europe: neomedieval regulations, such as crosscutting borders and contending authorities in the one domain, are reemerging in the European continent.44 But for many states it is their weakness that explains how and why some essential boundaries of modern sovereignty are not functional. Governments deprived of legitimacy or adequate economic leverage may fail to realize some parts of their sovereignty. Finally, hybridization is the cause of the absence of sovereignty of some states. On the hybrid model, Western sovereignty, interpreted and processed by a non-Western societal framework, fails to materialize. Compared with consent and failure, hybridization is more complex and structural, since it obstructs long-terms solutions by limiting the capability of state actors with primordial penetrations of state authority.

The Construction of New State–Society Boundaries in the Middle East The idea and practice of modern sovereignty was injected into the non-European lands by the expansion of the Western-state system. The geographical expansion of sovereignty also reorganized the domestic configurations of non-Western peoples. The reorganization of Arab domestic space is

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not less important than the creation of territorial Arab states and their bilateral relations. What resulted was the transfer of a Western-type statehood, nurtured in the Western context of experience, to several non-European regions. The tension in this process originated from the encounter of the traditional and the Western state–society boundaries. Thus, it is a methodological necessity to briefly outline the meaning of modernization in the nonEuropean region, especially in terms of state–society boundaries. European powers instrumentalized sovereignty as a means of instituting their claims to imperial authority over the rest of the world. For that reason, sovereignty was initially a global institution.45 The European mind perceived and understood the physical environment from a sovereignty-centered perspective. As a consequence, early Europeans, when in contact with nonWestern peoples, generally perceived them as organized into “states.”46 The lack of any Western political structure persuaded Europeans to understand the situation from their epistemological habit, and to transfer their mind-set to the local people.47 The non-European lands that had no organizational framework determined by a sovereignty principle were to the Europeans discountable as terra nullius.48 However, non-European peoples certainly had their own settings and political forms before Europe’s arrival. The encounter was not that of the Western model and terra nullius; it was an encounter of the Western format and traditional formats. The expansion of the state system paved the way for a cultural clash between the expanding European culture and other cultures. The European state system, which depended on the equal units of an anarchic model, was a novel structure for others. Undoubtedly, the expanding Western forms were culturally parochial. Scholar Gerrit Gong says that in the clash of forms, “. . . the concept of standard remains a determining factor in the process by which the modern international society continues to evolve.”49 Thus, the expansion of the state system has never been a value-free course: In general, the standard of civilization reflected the norms of the liberal European civilization.50 Non-European states that failed in attaining those standards were rejected.51 Aspiring states had to accept several principles in order to become part of the international system.52 The European standard, though it is difficult to give a precise definition, was a composite idea. Several factors such as Christianity, the colonial discourse, and Eurocentric ideologies set it apart.53 Therefore, the injection of the Eurocentric standard paved the way for a culture-oriented clash between European and native actors. As indicated by Gong, non-European societies faced a big quandary: how to preserve their traditional culture, which was the result of their historical standards of civilization, and at the same time allow that civilization to grow by internalizing a different standard of civilization.54 The clash in the Middle East took place also because alien models were imposed on and implanted into the Arab world, which inevitably led to the creation of hybrid characteristics. But it was not only the Western colonial administrators that imposed Western models in the region. Indigenous actors also facilitated the

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institutionalization of the Western model in the name of modernization. Thus, it is apt to speak of several phases of Westernization in the context of the Arab world: Ottoman modernization, the rise of Western powers, and colonial rule. At the core of these processes was the injection of many Western institutions by domestic and external actors. In this process, the traditional political structure was amended according to the Western model, but with the actors’ newfound rules and institutions.

The Ottomans as the Pillar of the Western Model During the last decades of the Empire many important reforms were carried out in the Arab lands by the Ottoman modernizing elite. The Ottoman system had never been a static one. It is not correct to read state-formation processes in the Arab world as a project against the Ottoman legacy. No doubt, the current Arab nation-states’ territories were carved out by the colonial powers from the preexisting administrative entities and turned into new states.55 But the early modernization happened during the Ottoman period. Ottoman modernization was a long process; it cannot be described in terms of the Ottoman military and technological failure against Western superiority.56 To cite Doumani: The key point here is that some aspects of “modernity” surfaced long before they were “initiated” by outside stimuli, while “traditional” modes of organizations survived much longer than is usually admitted. The social formations in the Arab East were not houses of cards easily collapsed from outside. On the contrary, they were deeply rooted though flexible and dynamic networks that interacted with externally imposed changes and filtered them into the rhythms of everyday life.57

Modernization was not a new word in the region. Recalling the complex changes from daily life to international relations that modernity introduced, one can trace this process at least as far back as the eighteenth century. Ottoman modernization was the harbinger of modern statehood. Reform programs gradually became a huge and complex process that produced several important results in many fields. In particular, the Tanzimat (regulations) reforms altered the appearance of the Empire by carrying out Western-inspired reforms in different fields, especially outside the military field.58 The most important target of Tanzimat was centralization. Therefore, Ottoman reform was an agenda of modernization that aimed to create a new system in which all citizens are equally subject to the new central rationale. The reforms raised hopes for a strong European-like state that would replace the old administrative system.59 The Ottoman administrative style in Arab lands changed in the late nineteenth century. The reforms produced an imperial bureaucracy capable of an unprecedented level of state intervention.60 It should be noted that the

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classical Ottoman administration system was not centralized in Arab lands. In the preceding centuries, the Ottomans had in fact not even sought tight control over them. For example, in the eighteenth century several local dynasties rose in important centers such as Damascus and Aleppo. Also, due to inadequate communication facilities in the Empire, the central government had a limited role in the periphery. The Tanzimat reforms aimed to establish a relatively central and effective administrative body. Bureaucrats tried to extend the power of the central authority even to the remotest parts of the Empire. The reforms stipulated that all administrative cadres were to be assigned by the central government, and they would be responsible only to the central rulers. As a consequence, the rise of a new bureaucracy enhanced the state’s capacity for intervening in and regulating the lands under its control, which included Arab lands. The classic Ottoman rule, symbolized by the annual visit of tax collectors, had left matters of land and security to the powerful tribes in the plains and to the village notables. This situation changed.61 The change saw several important, new legal codes, such as the new land code and the new Vilayet (provincial) code. These reforms created the earliest forms of modern and central statehood in Arab lands. After the 1858 Land Code (Arazi Kanunnamesi), several secular forms, such as the private-property system, were introduced and widely implemented. Similarly, the Vilayet Law of 1864 provided a standard framework for provincial administration that was to be applied across the Empire. With the novel legal system, the Ottoman Empire aimed to create new administrative units to activate the paper structures of the earlier decades.62 To put into effect the central and capable authority that is the modern state, its new administrative regulations were to be supported by parallel infrastructural investments. Hence Ottoman modernization had plans for general infrastructural reform in Arab lands to support its nascent central rule. The Ottomans were not passive actors against the West. They pursued and implemented several policies to cope with the West. Even if its success was limited, Ottoman modernization contributed to the modern stateformation in the Middle East,63 and it led to the crystallization of local identities. Late modernization even helped set in motion a process of territorial definition. It introduced, at the very least, the theory of the modern rules and patterns of the relationship between the individual and the central authority. Ottoman modernization had in fact introduced the earliest samples of modern state–society boundaries into Arab lands.

The Western Powers in the Region The radical transformation of Arab lands occurred with the growth of the Western presence in the region. However, Western influence should be analyzed from several perspectives. First, the political competition between external powers for dominance in Arab lands was the historical setting. Second, the creation of new national spaces during and after the collapse of

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the Ottoman Empire was the work of the Western powers. The Western powers were instrumental in the creation of the modern territorial Arab state. Third, apart from how territorial Arab states were created, it is also important to understand how Western models and institutions were implanted in the region; this perspective is as important as the second one, since it scrutinizes the domestic boundaries in Arab lands that the Western powers constructed. After delineating the boundaries of new Arab states, colonial rules established a Western form of the modern state. This, the final phase, was more than a delineating of boundaries, as it required deep and complex social and political transformation. In Massad’s view, the colonially issued instructions to colonized lands happened in the colonialist moment: the rush of activity that established a state framework either by replacing the existing one or by imposing one where none was apparent.64 This resulted in discontinuity: the new political, juridical, and military structures, bureaucratic divisions, and taxation rules had not evolved from familiar structures; those structures were simply dispensed with.65 The colonial moment was felt by many Arab states: “Apart from Iran, Saudi Arabia, North Yemen and Turkey, all the countries of the region experienced decades of European rule.”66 This rule imposed European-like methods and domestic boundaries. Khoury writes that alien governments imposed from distant capitals were set up in serails and government houses.67 The consequence was a serious distortion of traditional forms. Many new Western forms and institutions were brought to the region. They created early Weberian-state models. Monroe’s oft-cited words capture the essence of the British presence in Arab lands: Forty years is only a moment in the life of a region with a recorded history of four millennia. Britain’s time of dominance will seem short in the eyes of later centuries. But to those who took part in it, the moment seemed long enough to performance of services useful both to Britain and to certain Middle Eastern people. These British citizens saw their service in terms of their local works: harnessing the Nile, training armies and policemen, teaching tree-planting to halt soil erosion, trying to reconcile Arabs to Jewish settlement, introducing Kurdish highlanders to central government.68

In other words, “a development which in Europe took a thousand years is here being compressed into a few decades.”69 The social impact of the colonial moment was not confined to commercial or military matters. European advisers, administrators, diplomats, teachers, and missionaries brought with them ideas and policies designed to replace with modern standards and methods what they saw as the stagnant character of Muslim Oriental culture. They undermined both the socioeconomic stability of the old Ottoman periphery and destroyed its archaic polities (ancient empires, multinational autocracies, and stateless orders), thereby prompting the onset of formal colonialism.70

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The traditional structure of Arab society and politics were deeply distorted. To begin with, a new territorial demarcation was introduced by Western powers. The idea of fixed territorial boundaries is not native to the region. In the pre–World War I era, there were very few established boundaries among Arabs. All the twentieth-century boundaries of the Middle East are artificial.71 Political boundaries were drawn for purposes of colonial convenience or intra-imperial trade-off, and they cut across ethnic, tribal, religious, and linguistic ties, dismembered established political units, and joined more than one precolonial political entity into uneasy administrative unions.72 Boundaries were a practical need. The Western powers drew up state boundaries for Western convenience, having estimated their need for them on their perceptions of the resources of Arab territories.73 New boundaries contributed to the formation of the modern state. The history of territorial demarcation references a very complex background. Though several events such as the McMahon Correspondence, the Balfour Declaration, and the Sykes–Picot Agreement are among the well known, the plain fact is that the reorganization of Oriental space was always part of the colonial agenda. A new idea of homeland came to the fore. Disconnected from their historical bonds, the local people were told to live their lives in their new homelands. The Arab notion of homeland, watan, was parallel to the premodern, if not medieval, understanding. The Arabic watana means to reside or sojourn in a place.74 The place can be a town, but it may also be a village, a province, a local piece of land, or the broad entity “all Arab people” or Umma. These meanings are obviously very different from the connotations of the European homeland. The colonial injection of new territorial countries confused ordinary people. The newly imposed Western colonial rule required that territorial homeland be understood as a space defined by boundaries. The new colonial form set demarcations on who is and who is not a national, and on what is and what is not national culture. It is clear that the question “Who is the other?” will yield different answers on the watan criterion and on the new territorial homeland criterion. Through the imposition of a new sense of homeland, the colonialists introduced a new way of apprehending the world, a new epistemology. In parallel with the efforts of creating a territorial homeland, an equally important issue was the creation of a new man, the homo nationalis. The modern concept of nation in the Middle East is a fruit of the colonial nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Western powers created the essential features of Western statehood, of which the symbolizing features were a capital city, a flag, a legal system, and internationally recognized boundaries.75 This gave many of the new Arab states a somewhat artificial appearance, with their new names and new capitals, their lack of social homogeneity, and their dead-straight boundaries, which were so obviously the work of a British or French colonial official with a ruler.76 By the mid-1920s, the British and the French were the masters of the Middle East. They determined almost all of the new boundaries, and they

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decided who should rule, and what forms of government should be established. The Western powers imposed their alien forms and institutions on a region that hardly resembled their own. The indigenous people had virtually no hand in this process. Therefore, not only their boundaries but also their governmental structures and their names and identities were in most cases formed by international action, much of it in the shape of European colonialism. For example, Arab monarchies are typical colonial installations. They were established by colonial powers in order to consolidate state formation in Arab lands. Despite the cultural anthropologist analysis of Arab monarchies, which sees them as the natural outcome of Arab culture, they can be contextualized only in colonial rule and interests.77 It was not Arab culture but the colonial projects that created the monarchy as an instrument of state formation in the Middle East. Monarchy there is no more indigenous than liberal democracy. Arab monarchies reflect the imposition of foreign, largely European, political templates. Surprisingly, despite the regional exceptionalism or cultural anthropologist approaches, what seems traditional to Western eyes is in fact as much a Western as a Middle Eastern tradition. As a matter of practicality, the Western rule installed, retained, and refurbished monarchies because to a greater or lesser degree they served Western imperial purposes. The colonial moment was significant also in terms of infrastructure. The colonial powers were interested in the infrastructural development of the region even before their arrival. From the European point of view, it was important to build lines in the region in order to link with their possessions and interests. Besides, they were in the process of creating a new system, a new public sphere in foreign lands. In order to sustain the infrastructure of power, the mandate administration had to have the physical means of controlling space.78 The consequences of the infrastructural developments were influential. First, central authorities emerged with unprecedented capacities. Second, as another unprecedented outcome, the early forms of domestic markets came out as a national sphere. The construction of new roads gave merchants the mobility they needed to sell their commodities in Arab lands.79 Undoubtedly, these developments changed the traditional center–periphery relations. Before the emergence of modern statehood, there was no modern sense of center and central administration that had full control of the country in many Arab lands.80 The colonial state would reach deeper into society and spend more on social affairs than the previous rulers ever did. The emergence of the nation-state meant the growth of a different economic structure in Arab lands. The capitalist background of the modern state was also introduced during the expansion of the state system. Before the arrival of Western rulers and powers, Arab lands were mainly part of the Ottoman economic sphere. To conceptualize the Ottoman economic paradigm and to compare it with the Western counterpart, Wallerstein’s perspective may be illuminative. According to Wallerstein, the history of economic development is located in two world systems: world empires and

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world economies. Briefly, the main distinction between world empire and world economy turns on how decisions about resource distribution are made. In a world empire, a centralized political system uses its power to redistribute resources from all over the country to the central core area. Thus, in world empire economic issues are decided according to bureaucratic rationality. There were institutions in the Ottoman economic model that fit the world empire model. One is the institution narh. It is the official price of commodities and services decided by the government.81 According to Kütüko˘glu, one of the basic regulators of narh was the army-based Ottoman system. It was a kind of security against unwanted speculations. Pamuk speaks similarly about interventionism. According to him, the Ottomans were definitely more interventionist than other Islamic states. The practices they used, such as the enforcement of regulations (hisba) in urban markets and price ceilings (narh), had their origins in Islamic tradition, but the Ottomans relied on them more frequently that did the other Muslim entities.82 Interventionism even reached a point where control, and not protection, of merchants became its central administrative task. Economic life was truly under the control of the bureaucratic rationality during the Ottoman system. Pamuk argues that just as Ottoman economic policies reflected the priorities and interests of a central bureaucracy, Ottoman monetary practices were closely linked to the same priorities and interests.83 The Ottoman model depended on the autonomy of the state from economic and other factors. Market-based values were not essential. For Özbudun, the relationship between economic power and political power in the Ottoman Empire was the opposite of that of the Europeans. In other words, no economic leverage could produce political leverage in the Empire. Thus, this politics-first model failed in creating an economic surplus, which was the key development for many others.84 The general features of the world empire model correspond closely to the Ottoman economic paradigm. In a world economy, in contrast, there is no single center of political authority; instead, we find multiple competing centers of power. Resources are, therefore, not distributed according to central political decisions (bureaucratic rationality), but rather through the medium of a market (market rationality). According to Wallerstein, the modern international system is a world economy. This system emerged in Europe around the turn of the sixteenth century. It then expanded to other regions of the globe and transferred its institutions and values. In other words, what was brought to the other parts of the globe was a system of products sold on a market for profit, which profit was then appropriated by individuals or collectives.85 In turn, the expansion of the modern state system was also the expansion of a certain type of economic structure, the European style of capitalism. Thus, the expansion of a Western-state system was a kind of interaction between two different economic structures. Ayubi outlines the story of the modern state in the Arab world as the political and institutional expression of the argument between the Asiatic mode of production and the capitalist mode of production, characterized by a rapid move toward the superiority of

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the latter.86 Similarly, Migdal believes that the expansion of European capitalism was limited since it could not totally disrupt the old forms.87 Integral to European capitalism was the injection of the Western property regime into the Middle East.88 Property regime is a constitutive principle on any social model. Colonial rule meant a deviation from the traditional forms of land regulations. Land was mainly a state possession on the Ottoman model. This was typical of the classical land tenure system.89 The decision by the Ottomans to hold the majority of the land in trust for the community was the same as that of the earliest Muslim rulers and legalists after the original wave of Muslim conquests. It was mandatory that questions of ultimate ownership, usufruct, and the transfer of land be thoroughly worked out and institutionalized.90 Those referred to as timar-holders were only a kind of state representative or servant. They did not possess the land. The Ottoman treasury even authorized special agents, known as mevkufchu, to retrieve the timars of defaulting individuals or of individuals deceased without heirs. The establishment and continuous reassertion of the mirî was the indispensable counterpart of pre-Bendalism, the bedrock on which the original Ottoman land regime was constructed.91 The classical state-oriented view prohibited the progress of private property in the imperial lands.92 In general, land was owned by the state, and the people used (usufruct) it. The sale of land was rare, if at all impossible. Therefore, the state was, in theory, by far the biggest landlord, inasmuch as that term is applicable to the region. The Ottoman land system had prevented the emergence of a land-centered noble class from the very beginning, since it did not have a private-ownership model. The landed aristocracy was defeated, state ownership was established over privately held lands, and power concentrated in the hands of the central bureaucracy.93 What is more, the Ottoman system was not dependent on any single principle; instead, there were multiple forms. The rules of property in the Ottoman Empire were differentiated, and claims for land were particularistic, requiring the designation of the use to which the land will be put. Land might be used as a source of revenue, or for subsistence purposes. Ottoman currency policies had a comparable rationale. Multiple currencies were the norm in the Ottoman system. This leads Pamuk to characterize the Ottoman Empire as “. . . a porous, sieve-like entity with loosely defined boundaries, especially when dealing with monetary process.” 94 The monetary process had to be shored up, and that presupposed the state’s coercive apparatus and moral sanction.95 The absence of private ownership of land and the dominating role of the state in the regulation of land use gave rise to different practices in different parts of the empire. The rights that accrued upon a successful claim to use land as a source of revenue or for subsistence did not amount to a proprietary stake in the subject land. Each successful claim to use land could be reassigned to groups or persons for a use other than the one to which a previous claimant had put it. Thus, what colonial rule found in Arab lands was the absence of a Westerntype proprietary (owner-based) system of land holdings. From the outset,

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the European colonizers promoted a trend toward privately owned property. In Jordan, the land reforms’ aims were essentially fiscal and developmental: to increase both agricultural production and tax revenues, and thus reduce the country’s resource-scarce dependence on British subsidies. The British decided to displace the Ottoman model of land tenure they had inherited with the introduction of a proprietary land regime.96 The aim of the decision was to enforce the British concept of law and private property, and to reduce or eradicate the indigenous social approach to land ownership.97 The French Mandate in Syria also carried out similar land reform programs. The French officials declared that the state-owned land model was incompatible with their plans for this country. They established a cadastral office, Regie du Cadastre. Its aim was to regularize the land registry system according to the French model. To achieve this, the musha’ system, the most common feature of the Syrian land system, was to be confiscated. In 1926, a law reinforcing the compulsory registration of all immovable property was implemented. In 1930, a new land code was accepted that was to dissolve most of the distinctions between the different forms of land ownership in Syria. In Iraq, the 1931 land law aimed for similar reforms. The British launched a new land policy here. In 1928, the Pump-Owners Law was introduced, which granted full ownership to those who installed a pump on former governmental lands. By the time of the 1931–1932 Land Settlement Law, the British had recorded the balance of unregistered land as state property. These laws implied the increasing consolidation and centralization of state power. In consequence, the traditional structures of long historical standing were distorted by the newly injected Western forms. Middle Eastern politics was re-created according to the new state–society boundaries. Naturally, it is important to pay attention to how the local people, for whom the traditional boundaries were still alive and strong, responded to those new state–society boundaries. They had been delivered into the grip of two contending forms: the traditional and the modern. The essential task, therefore, is to formulate the outcome of the encounter of these contending forms.

Hybrid Sovereignty Extensive Westernization created a bifurcated legacy in the Arab world. It inevitably led to various clashes. The clash of two cultural models has three possible consequences: (i) the total dominance of one side by the other, and thus the reconstruction of the other by the conquering model; (ii) the two models completely reject each other; (iii) the two models give way to a hybrid model that is significantly different from both of them. Several lands under Western colonization, such as Australia and the United States, developed into Western models in terms of statehood and sovereignty. However, the process was different in other areas such as the Middle East, due to the prevailing traditional forms. It would be incorrect to conclude that the Western model totally replaced traditional forms, values, and

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understandings. Thus, a hybrid model, which is neither purely Western nor traditional, emerged in the Middle East. In related studies, the incompatibility of the colonially injected form and practice has been emphasized extensively. For example, Christopher Clapham offers a well-organized table to explain the exceptional usage of sovereignty.98 He first stresses that sovereignty is an artificial solution produced by Western colonial powers. With the collapse of European colonialism, sovereignty was used against the problem of incorporating new political areas into the international system. Many new states without an adequate capacity of statehood entered the system. These have had many different problems such as legitimacy, nation building, economic stability, and democratization. The new elite failed to resolve those problems before they gained international acknowledgment of their sovereignty. Once they gained that acknowledgment, they instrumentalized the sovereignty institution to consolidate their rule in their polities. Robert Jackson also differentiates the Third World states in terms of their statehood and sovereignty, and in so doing he isolates the quasi-state. Quasi-states are legal members of the international system. They are internationally recognized as the full juridical equals of other states on the basis of their formal institutions. Nonetheless, they are without the capacity to erect the essential structures of modern statehood.99 Scott Pegg presents the situation thus: States which are internationally recognized as full juridical equals, possessing the same rights and privileges as any other state, yet which manifestly lack all but the most rudimentary empirical capabilities. The quasi-state has a flag, an ambassador, a capital city and a seat at the United Nations General Assembly but it does not function positively as a viable governing entity. It is generally incapable of delivering services to its population and the scope of its governance often does not extend beyond the capital city, if even there.100

Echoing Jackson and Clapham, Sorensen also differentiates Third World states. According to Sorensen, what transpired in the Third World states should be called the postcolonial game, which differs significantly from the Westphalian game.101 When decolonization extended constitutional independence to the former Western colonies, a new type of player joined the society of states. These states are weak players with severe deficiencies. Their governments attempt to operate with weak and underdeveloped institutions most often run by tiny elite who use them to secure their own advantage. People inside the former colonial borders were communities only in the sense that they were contained by these borders. The problem in these states was the nature of the relationship between people and state. As colonially created states lack legitimacy, their rulers compensate for its absence by alternative instruments, for instance, military power. Having been given their state– state boundaries and international protection as a gift, some new states were not up to the job of establishing their state–society boundaries.

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Given these points, how can we theorize the practical situation in the nonWestern states? Shall we keep using the conventional discourse, which is dominated by words such as “failure” and “weakness?” Or are there deeper and more structural reasons behind the problems? As already noted, hybridization has been proposed as a suitable structural explanation: The state itself is a constructed phenomenon that has no fixed universal essence.102 Sovereignty as a contingent concept is yet another institution trawled for explanatory power. Sovereignty has many faces, depending on how it is represented or simulated, and on what its foundations or models are.103 Thus, sovereignty is a contingency of all social and political facts. The notional lines that demarcate the inside and the outside powerfully influence “. . . the semantic field of our various concepts and their interconnection.”104 As an important element of the semantic field positioned on the historical line between the Western and non-Western, sovereignty faces the same destiny: Today, the flavor of sovereignty depends upon the context in which the word is used. Since different usages are applied in different circumstance, the meaning of sovereignty varies according to the issue that is being addressed or the question that is being asked.105

The meaning of sovereignty changes according to the surrounding conditions and the nature of its locale.106 The Middle Eastern epistemologies, traditions, cultures, and so on have undoubtedly processed the colonially injected Western sovereignty with their code. This brings us to the wellknown Foucauldian thesis of truth, which explains truth as the product of a societal regime. Foucauld holds that each society’s truth is produced in “. . . a circular relation with systems of power.”107 Different regimes of truths produce different types of knowledge and types of rationality.108 Society produces knowledge by means of its language. Discourse is about the production of knowledge through language.109 Hence there are different types of societies because there are different kinds of reasoning, religion, and human practice.110 When we give an account of sovereignty in this way, we propose that it is a constitutional arrangement of political life, and is thus artificial and historical; there is nothing about it that is natural or inevitable or immutable.111 Each society produces its own understanding of sovereignty.112 This approach also recognizes the constructive link between power and knowledge.113 The distribution of power has an overriding role in the formation of sovereignty. To begin with, the injection of Western sovereignty was the direct consequence of Western power. But along with system-level power distribution in world politics, how power is organized in a self-defined society is also decisive in the formation of sovereignty. There is parallelism in the discourses of sovereignty and of power.114 How societies name, explain, and produce is a pure cultural procedure. As we have many kinds of societies and kinds of cultures, there is a different link in each society between the signifier and the signified. Historically, the

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expansion of the Western-state system brought important new institutions and concepts to the other parts of the globe. In this process, Europe brought its own cultural categories, images, ideas, and signs to the other lands. Bartelson, in order to portray the problematic nature of the encounter of two different forms and cultures, writes that the encounter is that of the Christian or European way of life with something that is radically different from it. This encounter, as expected, raised the question of what kind of relations can possibly develop from such an encounter.115 One answer is that the intercourse of two different (the Western and the traditional) models of sovereignty produces a hybrid sovereignty that is neither completely Western nor traditional. Hybridization is the inevitable product of the colonial presence in other cultures.116 Norval refers to the emphasis on intervention at this point. The question as to what follows from such an assertion of an original splitting of the subject from itself, or from the difference that annihilates all identity, is left open, but it is an openness that assigns a space “to intervention.”117 Norval’s emphasis on the splitting of the subject from itself is the core message of the hybridization process in which both interacting identities are ripped away from their own identities to give way to another, a hybrid one. In this sense, hybridity is the in-between space in non-man’s land. It can be understood in a variety of ways, ranging from a mixture of two essentially pure identities to an assertion of the original non-purity of all forms of identification. Therefore, “hybrid” is the opposite of “authentic.” Authentic thought constitutes a revolt against both modernity and tradition.116 Hybridity claims the impossibility of authenticity in a colonized/modernized society. Robert D. Lee writes: “. . . the issue of authentic cannot arise in traditional society . . . ,” and “the search for authenticity demands stripping away custom and convention.”119 Likewise, hybrid sovereignty prevents the possibility of any kind of authenticity in a society, be it traditional or modern, as the society itself is a product of clashing modern and traditional models. Hybrid sovereigns have come to the fore in colonized terrains. Hybrid sovereignty is the product of the historical encounter between Western and nonWestern models, an encounter that has been an integral part of the expansion of the state system. The hybrid attests to the symbiosis of the colonizer and the colonized.120 Hybridity emerges in the narratives of the colonized as an essential part of the discourse.121 In the formation of colonial discourse, “denied knowledge” enters the dominant discourse and alienates the basis of its authority. Bhabba therefore holds that hybridity is a problematic of colonial representation. Therefore, hybridization is first the internationalization of systems, techniques, and values that had for a time been confined to Europe; second, it is about how deeply changes have taken root in the non-Western world; and third, it is about the processes of adaptation.122 Also, hybridization was the natural outcome of the complicated nature of political systems. Any political system consists of many rules, networks, and the like. Political systems are not separate but positioned in a complex, overlapping network system. Thus, the encounter of two different political

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systems is inevitably very complex. It does not take place between two onepiece, well-formed models, but rather, it is a face-off of two dense and undetermined models. As expected, actors’ capacities are very limited in this process. Thus it is less actors’ expectations and more the long-term mix of two undetermined models that shapes the outcomes. A hybrid-sovereignty approach criticizes a pure Eurocentric methodology in which hybrid sovereignties have been depicted as semi-states, unsuccessful states, or totally failed states. There is no reason to believe that the West has a monopoly on constitutional wisdom.123 The hybrid-sovereignty approach follows a via media. Accordingly, the term “failure” is not a correct description of the Middle Eastern samples. Whereas one may talk about failures in several fields, the general cause of failure is the clash between two historically substantial models. It was the dominating European force that injected the Western model into different cultural zones. There have always been strong traditions of statehood in non-European lands. Thus, in no way has the Western experience been the only basis of statehood. Rather, the researcher should recognize a model in the encounter between the Western and non-Western forms. Therefore, a value-based comparison between the Western state and the non-Western state is flawed. After long decades of colonial encounter we face a world in which multiform sovereign visions exist.124 Thus, it would be incorrect to say that we have an all-compassing teleology. Sidaway, in this context, criticizes the mainstream studies as follows: The western state, scripted as “strong,” “successful,” “real” is opposed to the “weak” southern state. In this, the western state is the taken for granted model, the norm. The western state is identical with itself a replica of nothing other than its own model statehood . . . They are compared with sovereignties of the West, measured, weighed and found wanting of the strength, power and effectiveness of western statehood. [Their] formats of . . . sovereignty might be interpreted differently.125

No kind of ideology-based classification of the Western and non-Western can be defended. The existence of different formats of sovereignty should be recognized. In other words, the Western teleology that classifies all nonWestern states as ones engaged in a kind of struggle for perfect Western-like statehood is biased. What both the Western and non-Western states have been experiencing is the inevitable outcome of their natures. The experience of colonization/modernization is one that saw change in both of the encountering state formats. But it is a fact that many Western institutions and concepts (and ideas) came to non-Western lands during the age of colonization. Nothing perspicacious transpires in a debate about the authenticity of either side. As mentioned above, each society has a regime of truth. No plausible evaluative grid exists to measure one against the other. A hybridsovereignty approach recognizes the existence of different discourses on power and state. It focuses on how different formats interact with each other,

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and how they produce a new format. Instead of advancing simplistic explanations of failure, the hybrid-sovereignty approach examines an instance of hybridization and explains how and why the institutions that would affirm sovereignty are absent or defective in it. Doing this, the hybrid-sovereignty approach assesses natural and continuing forms. The idea that there is failure where traditional forms prevail is not explanatory, but it is misleading. Actors cannot be blamed, since they are under the influence of their traditional and social structures. In order to clarify hybrid sovereignty, several important facts have to be reconsidered: 1. It is the colonized terrain that produces hybridity. Colonialism is the historical creator of hybrid sovereignty. However, in the colonial format, the modernization processes of several countries have given way to hybrid conclusions in the absence of the classical context that is capable of yielding them. 2. Hybrid sovereigns are neither Western nor traditional. They display a flexible identity. In other words, hybrid sovereigns oscillate between the Western and their traditional formats. They sometimes exhibit typical Western behaviors. Some scholars misinterpret this oscillation and claim that the hybrid sovereigns are moving toward a Western replica. Many Western scholars still follow Daniel Lerner’s model.126 Since the late 1960s, Lerner has claimed that all modernizing societies are copying the developed Western models and their processes. He asserts, “what the [West] is, in this sense, the Middle East seeks to become.”127 Based on his position, an equation emerges between modernization and Westernization. Ignoring several exceptions, it is true that many developing states recognized the Western model as the most important, if not the correct, source of inspiration. However, Lerner’s paradigm misled Western (and Eastern) scholars into the belief that there is a teleology that entails the necessity that Third World states become Western states. Espousing this teleology, they are quick to label these Third World states as failed states because they have never been the replica of the typical Western state. The fact that many of the non-Western elite also espoused this belief lent Lerner paradigm a high level of credibility. It became another Western deterministic framework for analyzing Middle Eastern politics. The hybrid-sovereignty approach recognizes the importance of the Western influence but rejects the assumption that the Third World states are in a historical march to Western statehood. Because of the differences between the Western and non-Western models, a hybrid outcome is inevitable. Thus, the emergence of the hybrid model is a logical outcome, not a failure. The hybrid sovereigns are under the influence of two contending models. The inapplicability in them of several Western-sovereignty criteria is the outcome of their natural limits/differences. Thus, when it regards non-Western states, the hybrid-sovereignty approach takes the view that sovereignty is a basket of terms.128 Accordingly, it

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acknowledges that only some aspects of the Western format are practiced in these regions. It is unrealistic to expect the successful application there of all the components of the Westphalian format. To conclude, hybrid sovereigns may display different sovereignty features, and they may lack several features of Western sovereignty. The hybrid-sovereignty approach is therefore in line with the divisibility thesis that perceives sovereignty as a basket containing several subunits.129 Hybrid sovereignty presumes the limited applicability in its context of the properties of Western sovereignty.

Hybridity in the Literature: The Arab State as a Hybrid Sovereign All Arab states were hybridized in a historical process. They have been under the influence of competing trends and models for more than two centuries. But change is a difficult issue, and formal changes to state and government institutions and functions do not necessarily reflect or imply serious structural and conceptual changes. This is a simple fact about the Arab hybrid states. When different projects and models have interacted, neither the models nor the traditional forms can dominate one another totally. Tibi claims that Arab states would have been inconceivable without the European system. They originated from the European system. But though they have such origins, Arab states have another wish, which is to “go their own way.”130 As no society creates a total change, colonizers could not unilaterally impose a system of rule in the Arab world. Colonialism involved constant negotiation of power relationships and identities. However, multiple levels of identity coexist, in their variety of ways, in the Arab world today.131 Given the huge influence of the Western model in the region, it is unlikely that the solutions appropriate there can be the cut-and-dried ones borrowed from foreign cultures of vastly different political experience.132 The problem is well defined: what happens when an alien model is injected into a region? The Middle East, Africa, and other regions experienced such an injection with the imposition of made-in-Europe models of the nation state.133 And it resulted in a contradiction between national pretensions and historical structures.134 Clapham’s account of the general features of the African case is also instructive for our case: The encounter between African and the Westphalian assumptions of sovereign statehood built into the practice of European powers and the international system that they created underlies the entire modern history of the continent. It has been awkward, ambiguous, unsatisfactory; and often indeed tragic combination.135

The same “awkward, ambiguous, unsatisfactory and tragic combination” came out in the Arab world. Hybridization is not limited to several countries or several aspects of life. It is a reality at all levels of Arab societies. Zahlan argues that the present-day Qatari bureaucracy is a hybrid of the old tribal

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world and the new world of management and job descriptions.136 Even though Arab states have been persistent in establishing modern and large bureaucracies, the institutional culture is still under the influence of traditional forms. People in bureaucracy still pay attention to tribal or family links. In their study of institutional culture, Glaser and Halliday conclude that in Arab countries, the Western-style state is superimposed on a social structure that cannot be comprehensively described, let alone controlled, because it concerns a society overlaid with a network of invulnerable family bonds. Such a social context prevents the creation of impersonal bureaucratic relations.137 Similar cases of hybridity can be identified in other areas. Clearly, the relationship between the traditional and the modern is not smooth, nor do the two harmonize. Hudson sees their relationship as one of tension rather than complete opposition.138 This is why sovereignty crisis is felt at all levels. Three prominent scholars have glossed this situation thus: The problem of Third-World states’ internal fragility goes deeper than problems of border demarcation and is related to the imposition of an (alien) state structure on a (forged) nation. The result is the impression of a state at war with its own society (the chronic problem of instability), and also that society at war with itself.139

We cannot understand the social impact of Western influence (imperialism) if we confine ourselves only to the high politics of the situation. Instead, we see Western influence in many different fields, such as education, administration, and daily life. The modernization of Arab society refers to a very large and complex process. Modernity is to be defined by changes in agrarian and urban–rural relations (due to the growth of commercial agriculture), the arrival of the private property concept in the cadastral scheme, and the emergence of a new ruling class based more on wealth than on political office.140 Given the complexity of the process, no one can claim that modernization can take place in a short time. The very nature of the process is the source and cause of the hybrid features of the societies that undergo this process. No society can change itself, its institutions, and cultural identity in a short time. The scholarly tendency of exaggerating the potency of modernization is flawed.141 External theorist-actors cannot explain modernization. At best, theirs are caricaturists’ depictions. Along with the foreign actors, domestic actors have also played an important role in the creating of a hybridist composition. This is another very important fact about the nature of the hybrid in Arab society. A respectable policy of modernization anticipates the combination of the modern and the traditional. Modernization never means a total break with the past; a complex of traditional relationships and structures runs alongside it,142 and produces the in-between society that is “neither modern nor traditional.”143

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Hisham Sharabi’s neo-patriarchy is an appropriate concept in an analysis of the hybrid nature of Arab states. According to Sharabi, the postwar Arab state is the synthesis of the trend toward modernization and the pull of traditionalism.144 According to Sharabi, neo-patriarchy derives its meaning from the two realities that make up its concrete structure: modernity and patriarchy.145 Provided that patriarchy refers to the traditional roots of Arab society, there is a parallel between neo-patriarchy and hybridity. Like hybridity, neopartriachy refers to a complex combination of different worldviews or paradigms. Patriarchy refers to the universal form of traditional society, assuming in that reference the existence of characterizing differences among the living societies about which it generalizes. However, modernity is a quality of the Western Europe we know today, a quality acquired in a unique developmental history; whereas, neo-patriarchy in Arab lands is the sum of tradition and modernity. Why is there a neo-patriarchy in Arab lands? Why did Arab societies not acquire the quality of modernity? Modernization in the Middle East has been “unnatural” because the important economic and social developments that happened in Western Europe did not happen there in the same way. Arab modernization has been dependent/artificial. Since the Western model was injected, the Arab case must be viewed as indigenous not the product of a hegemonic modern Europe. Arab societies were always without the necessary political and economic conditions. Sharabi writes: . . . “modernization” as the product of patriarchical and dependent conditions can only be dependent “modernization”: dependency relations inevitably lead not to modernity but to “modernized” patriarchy, neo-patriarchy.146

The hegemonic relationship between the Europeans and the Arabs did not produce modernity but modernized patriarchy. The most important consequence of this result was that it did not end the patriarchic structure of Arab society; instead this structure was strengthened and maintained in a deformed, “modernized,” form. That is, the traditional patriarchic forms are still vigorous in “modernized” forms. “Material modernization,” which brought about the Arab Awakening of the nineteenth century, was challenged by traditional forms of patriarchy. Too focused on material changes, it ended up remodeling and recognizing the formerly patriarchic structures. Neo-patriarchy, from the standpoint of both modernity and the traditional, is neither modern nor traditional. It is the result of an attempt that tried to apply European modern forms in a patriarchic society. From its inception it was always a purely formal mode of organization. It could not be real, as Arab patriarchal societies never experienced the same economic and social transformations as Europeans. Sharabi asks: “Is modernization possible without capitalist development?” This question can be extended to include several other peculiarly European conditions that achieved modernization. Indeed, as already mentioned, what in the Arab case is a hybrid outcome is attributable

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to the absence of the economic and social transformations that modernized Western Europe. For example, the Arab model (or, as Sharabi puts it, “peripheral capitalism”) has never produced a full-fledged bourgeoisie or genuine working class. Instead, the Arab experience produced a hybrid “class,” the neo-patriarchic petty bourgeoisie. Not surprisingly, this hybrid class resembles neither the bourgeoisie nor the urban workers. This hybrid outcome of Arab experience can be seen also in several other fields, from economics to foreign policy. Neo-patriarchy is the result of a complex encounter between European modernity and Arab patriarchy. Sharabi asserts that the neo-patriarchic society was the outcome of the European colonization of the patriarchic Arab world: of the marriage of imperialism and patriarchy.147As the word “marriage” implies, neo-patriarchy includes both the Western and indigenous. Neo-patriarchy is at once an indigenous phenomenon and the result of contact with European modernity. The marriage between the Western and indigenous created a schizophrenic. Its essence is the contradictory shapes that form it. It looks modern but it depends on the traditional. In other words, the essence of hybridity is the clash between the manifest and the latent compounds of Arab society. Nazih Ayubi’s approach is also helpful in an analysis of the hybrid nature of the Arab state.148 For him, no proper understanding of the nature of contemporary Middle Eastern states can be obtained without reference to the colonial legacy. However, Ayubi is also against the idea that the Arab state is purely the product of colonialism. It is a fact that the colonial era was most instrumental in drawing up boundaries. To him, the Arab state is the product of both colonial and indigenous factors. The Arab state’s dilemma, he says, is “the colonial/indigenous mix.” Thus, other components of statehood have to be analyzed along with the colonial legacy.149 Ayubi’s approach recognizes the two competing formats of the Arab state. Michael Hudson’s evaluation of the crisis of legitimacy in Arab societies presents important findings for studying their hybrid nature.150 Like Robert Gurr, he defines the role of legitimacy in state–society relations. Regimes are legitimate to the extent that their citizens regard them as proper and deserving of support. He then concludes that the central problem of governments in the Arab world is their political legitimacy. But this is not specific to the Arab case; the same problem exists in many newly independent states in a process of rapid modernization. Hudson, like Rustow, holds that Arab states are without defined authority, identity, and equality, the three essential pillars of legitimacy. Hudson then attributes community problems and conflicts to the legitimacy shortage. The transformation of Arab society has created great social and political problems since the late Ottoman era. Despite earlier expectations, Hudson considers that modernization as a failed process. Political culture remains tenaciously parochial and segmented; modernization failed to create a modern society in which all the members are represented on the principle of equality. Furthermore, Hudson blames modernization for the continuing separatist tendencies in Arab political culture: It failed because it has

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always been part of a political agenda as a somehow artificial plan. Were mechanisms such as a domestic market or a transparent public sphere and bureaucracy in place and functioning, modernization might have succeeded to create the national man. Hudson quotes Harik to support his thesis: The new states of the Middle East are in need of accommodating particularistic tendencies and by constructive policy channeling them in the service of the civic order with patience and endurance.151

Echoing Sharabi’s neo-patriarchy, Hudson confirms that the end of the traditional order in the Arab system also contributed to the crisis of legitimacy. Modern ideas and institutions are crowding out the traditional model, which was the basis of the legitimate order. However, the chaotic transformation of Arab culture now fails to produce a functioning legitimacy mechanism. Also, Hudson condemns the revolutionist Arabs’ ideas about reform, as the implantation of new forms cannot happen quickly. In no way is the elimination of former models easy. The political expectations of the Arab reformists and revolutionaries did not materialize. Their contribution was dismissed as romantic and unrealistic. The legitimacy problem has a very complex history. The fragmentation of the Arab world into separate sovereignties should be analyzed. This irreversible act created unusual situations for Arab regimes. One can find both modern and traditional forms in the politics of Arab regimes. Hudson formulates this as the overlaying of modern authority values on traditional patterns. He points out how even the modernizing monarchies depend on traditional/ patrimonial structures. He points to the broad range of traditional authority patterns: patriarchic, consultative, Islamic, and feudal. Arab political identity, in other words, is denied by the unsettled nature of the Arab meaning of authority. Though the Arab nation is divided into several sovereign states, it is clear that Arabs are in search of an adequate political expression of their discrete instances of nationhood in the modern international system. It is therefore not the absence of effort in this area but the incompatibility of traditional and modern values that creates the basic reason for the legitimacy crisis: Patriarchical, consultative, religious and feudal norms basically are not compatible with the liberal, rational-legal, secular, democratic, and socialist ideologies now having such a significant impact on elites and masses alike. Because this revolution is far from complete, the Arab world is still living under dual systems of authority, and the problem of compatibility is chronic. It cannot be said that the traditional patterns have given way to the new ones.152

Hudson’s “dual system of authority” is a different expression of the hybrid nature of Arab societies. We see that no Arab state fully exemplifies a pure type of rational or rational-bureaucratic authority (in the Weberian sense).

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Thus, the Arab state represents a kind of in-between situation. This creates an important dilemma for Arab rulers and societies. Both traditional and modern criteria are practiced. This dilemma arising from the incongruity of primordial and particularistic values with contemporary norms and structures, notably those of modernity, gives rise to the legitimacy crisis. Bahgat Korany offers a three-step model to explain the origin of the Arab territorial state. His periodization is very precise, as it sees the rise of the Westphalian system as the first phase of the Arab territorial state. In other words, the historical periodization of the Arab state had its inception in European development. He says: “the Arab territorial state is a phenomenon made in Europe.”153 The second phase is the end and dismemberment of the Ottoman Empire and its consequent integration into the European system. This phase is also the rise of the mandate system to replace Ottoman rule.154 Like Sharabi and others, Korany focuses on the question: Why is there a gap between discourse (the modern state system) and reality (the Arab world)? For Korany, the cause is in the contradiction between indigenous grass-roots political culture and the imported elite political culture, of which the nationstate is the frame of reference. The contradiction is the basis of the hybrid characteristic of nation-state in the Arab world. Korany writes: “nation-state formation in the Arab world is both hybrid and in transition.”155 Hybridity is the outcome of the encounter between grass-roots and foreign political cultures. Korany traces the emergence of the Western modern state in the Arab world back to the Ottoman centuries. Ottoman modernization marks the beginning of the historical transfer of several Western standards and practices to the Arab world. He provides several examples from the mandate period to show how the implanted model is alien to the region, and how an assortment of problems has occurred. His delineation of the contradiction between the model and reality is emphatic. However, that does not lead him to claim a deadlock; instead, he recognizes the hybrid outcome. Though he concedes that the territorial state is becoming increasingly naturalized and implanted, he continues to believe that it is not an indigenous phenomenon, but notes that it no longer has the appearance of a foreign import: “It is thus a hybrid product.”156

The Identification of Hybridity The Arab lands were remodeled as Western states with the advent of Western powers: they gained international boundaries and central governments, and thus jurisdictions that are nations. But formal appearances were not the realities. Despite intensive efforts such as drawing lines on maps, appointing rulers, devising bureaucratic structures and taxation systems, and even training and equipping armies, durable state forms did not emerge.157 The European colonialists left behind them states with little or no history and limited administrative and military capabilities.158 The words of a representative in the first

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Syrian Parliament are a helpful illustration of the problematic beginning of the nation-state in the region: I look around me and see only a bundle of contradictions . . . Men whom nothing united, sharing no principles; some were illiterate, others distinguished men of letters; some spoke only Kurdish or Armenian, others only Turkish; some wore a tarbush, others a kafiyeh.159

Since the beginning of their modernization process, these states have remained under the influence of primordial and traditional institutions, despite the formal structures imposed by Western powers. Neither tradition nor modernity has become the valid basis/nature of the Arab state. The Arab individual, for example, oscillates between citizenship and (tribal or sectarian) kinship. Similar hybridist structures exist also in the economy. No hybrid sovereign has a modern taxation system. For hybrid sovereigns the boundary between domestic and foreign politics is problematic. Furthermore, their domestic fault lines challenge their governments’ foreign-policy agendas. A Close-Up on Sovereignty Crisis By way of introduction to the empirical data of case studies, discussion will now focus on one question: How can one study the crisis of sovereignty in a selected case? A short discussion of negative and positive sovereignty will prove useful.160 By definition, negative sovereignty is freedom from outside interference. Here, classical concepts such as nonintervention and recognition are important. In other words, negative sovereignty refers to relations at state– state level. Positive sovereignty not only enjoys rights of nonintervention and other international immunities but also possesses the ability to provide political goods for its citizens. It is about how domestic relations between actors are arranged in the modern state. From this perspective, Arab states are negative sovereigns and face great problems in consolidating their positive sovereignties. Sovereignty crisis in the Arab state is typically positivesovereignty crisis. Despite their presence in the international system as sovereign units, many important domestic institutions of modern statehood have not yet been realized. The discussion so far is represented in table 1.1:

Table 1.1 Sovereignty and legitimacy in the international system Western model Hybrid model Sovereignty (power/authority/order)

+

−

Legitimacy in international system

+

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The first column of table 1.1 represents the sovereignty of the Western-type modern state The Western model has a political configuration, and that configuration is valid and legitimate both in the domestic and the international realm. In colonially created states (hybrid sovereigns) we have a quite different situation: These states are organized like Western states, at least inasmuch as they have the same organizational profile, and they are the legitimate and equal members of the state system. However, many important parts of this organizational framework are not functional. Therefore, they are states operating in traditional modes within Western formats. So hybridity refers to Western sovereignty limited by primordial patterns and institutions. It manifests mainly in positive sovereignty. Once the consequences of the encounter between the Western model and the local forms of the Arab world are explained in this way, the explanation needs to be put to empirical test. It will be so tested, and the aim will be to answer several important questions such as: What are the actual symptoms of hybrid sovereignty in a given case? In other words, to defend a hybridity thesis, one should locate specific cases that confirm the survival of primordial patterns at the various levels of the modern state format. The cases presented to confirm the hybridity thesis will accommodate the argument that the Western/Westphalian sovereignty criteria are not applicable to them, or their applicability is limited. Certain deductions derived from these cases will facilitate a clearer perspective on sovereignty in Arab states. Since sovereignty is a relevant concept both in the domestic and international realms, a study of sovereignty may focus on either or both. Nevertheless, the problem of sovereignty in the Arab context has generally been studied in the context of foreign policy. Scholars from the neorealist school of thought have frequently turned to high politics to analyze the application of sovereignty in the Arab world. Therefore, sovereignty-related studies have automatically focused on foreign-policy developments such as Arab unionism, political unification projects, and territorial conflicts. This gave rise to an influential methodological reductionism. Some scholars argue that the Arab world now has a regional order derived from the consolidation of state sovereignty. They claim that adequate circumstantial proof of consolidation exists in the decline of unity talks and agreements, and in that Arab leaders no longer actively champion pan-Arabism and political unification.161 Undoubtedly, Arab nationalism has been one of the important issues in sovereignty studies in the Arab world. However, it has fueled the creation of a simplistic model. The abandonment of political unification projects by Arabs may be indicative of the consolidation of Westphalian sovereignty in the Arab world. Common questions of the following kind probe the consolidation issue: Does the Gulf War show that the state systems of the region have consolidated? Does the end of pan-Arabism mean the final consolidation of Westphalian principles in the region? Or, more recently: Does the invasion of Kuwait show that sovereignty has settled?

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Certainly, such questions canvass important indicators. However, they all address the international aspects of sovereignty. But sovereignty is a basket term. The institutionalization of sovereignty at one level does not necessitate its consolidation at other levels. The nature of the modern state system makes the realization of sovereignty at state–state level relatively easy, much easier, in fact, than is its realization as the definer of state–society boundaries.162 The foreign-policy context cannot in itself be adequate to test the consolidation of sovereignty at all levels. Since Western statehood introduced new institutions and patterns into the domestic realm too, the issue of sovereignty should be studied also at this level. Thus, it is unjustifiable reductionism to limit a reading of Westernization to the rise of new diplomatic patterns in the Arab world. Since sovereignty has both external and internal faces, its institutionalization depends on the protection of several boundaries that guarantee ultimate state authority against both the domestic population and external actors. Therefore, how a state is differentiated, or through which borders/ institutions it is differentiated, needs more attention, since boundaries and institutions are the major pillars of state sovereignty. The domestic boundaries of the modern state create a political structure in which rational and neutral norms prevail. Actors’ relations with the state are organized by these neutral and objective criteria. Actors are well informed about the principles of the game. Accordingly, sovereignty crisis in the domestic realm can be defined as the failure of any part of this rationality. In other words, the failure of rational components such as citizenship or central government are typical sovereignty crises that clearly show that Western-type sovereignty has not been realized, as does the perseverance of tribal loyalty in the rational state structure. When these boundaries fail, the state deploys non-neutral, non-transparent, and unaccountable methods to rescue itself. This is called the substitution mechanism. This mechanism resolves crises of sovereignty through methods other than those that the rational state provides. In general, substitution policies are the revitalization of certain primordial patterns such as tribalism or sectarianism. For example, when there is a crisis of citizenship, governments may follow tribal policies in order to protect their regimes. The use of violence is a well-known substitution instrument. A government that courts tribal support for political considerations causes a severe sovereignty crisis because in doing so it challenges citizenship. Several transnational agendas such as pan-Arabism have also structurally impeded the consolidation of citizenship in the Arab world. The political elite may also be the originators of sovereignty crisis. Substitution policies create hybrid solutions because they use modern and primordial patterns simultaneously. Thus, substitutions are methodologically important in analyzing the inapplicability of Western-type sovereignty criteria in a given case. But substitution may come out as a societal reaction that takes it bearings from traditional mores. Thus, substation mechanism is

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not discoverable in simple government policy. It is supported by a parallel societal framework. In other words, the inadequacy in formal structure is compensated for by certain policies. This widens the gap between the formal and operational levels. The formal level is important for an understanding of how textual, official, and legal procedures are created. However, it is only at operational level that we can understand how these formal systems are realized, for regulations at the formal level may be far from practice at the operational level. States hybridize their political systems by implementing substitution policies. Therefore, the hybrid-sovereignty approach may shed light on the operational level of Arab politics. Political instability in the Arab state arises from the incongruity of primordial and particularistic values with contemporary norms, notably those of modernity.163 Thus, rulers are entrapped in a discordant duality, caught between traditional forms and raison d’état (sovereignty).164 For that reason, the principle problem is to preserve or enhance their legitimacy in establishing a linkage with modernity. Despite the never-ending attempts to modernize societies, modern standpoints still have to take the past into account. The ambivalent commitment to both tradition and modernity still exists.

Sampling Sovereignty Crisis in the Domestic Realm When it comes to the practical issues and fields that show how Westernsovereignty criteria are inapplicable or limited, there must be a clarification of how certain boundaries at domestic and external realms are violated or not in place. Sovereignty crisis is defined as the violation or failure of any boundary of the modern state, be it domestic or international, either by the state or by other actors. According to this definition, sovereignty crisis may take place in various forms. For example, the failure of citizenship is a sovereignty crisis. Similarly, an international aggression is also a sovereignty crisis. In the same way, the continuity of “feudal” types of social relations in rural areas despite the formal recognition of private land tenure systems is another sovereignty crisis. In all sovereignty crises, the crux of the process is the inapplicability of a certain boundary of modern statehood. The typical consequence of a sovereignty crisis is the deployment of substitution methods. Thus, it is also important to present what is substituted once the crisis has passed. Substitution is a necessary organ of hybridity, for sovereignty crisis originates from structural deficit. The failure of states to possess adequate capacity for solving structural deficits forces them to devise subsidiary policies. Given the complexity of the modern state, an exhaustive list cannot be presented of all types of sovereignty crisis and their consequences, but the complex organizational framework of the modern state guarantees that any list of sovereignty crises will be a long one. The number of boundaries in the domestic realm is greater than that of the international realm. The international realm depends on a limited list of boundaries among states, such as

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territorial integrity and/or mutual nonintervention. Therefore, how sovereignty in the domestic realm might fail or become violated is a complex enquiry that needs more attention than does sovereignty in the international realm. One should bear in mind several facts before analyzing the following samples. First, the categories in the list are typical instances that display apparent sovereignty crisis. All categories refer to obvious situations in which the colonially injected Western sovereignty has failed to take effect. Therefore, the cases are important evidence of the limits of Western-type sovereignty. Since sovereignty is a basket term, one needs many different samples to show how sovereignty is challenged. To create this list, only long-lasting problems on the state–society level were picked up from the Middle Eastern cases. It should also be mentioned that different sovereignty crises might overlap. Since each case has its own political and social conditions, how Western sovereignty is challenged or violated may be different in each case. Similar cases may not be found in different states. Undoubtedly, in each Arab state there is a different compensation mechanism, created by local conditions. It is one thing in the oil-rich Kuwaiti state, and quite another in poor, multiethnic Jordan. Given these facts, the list includes several important sovereignty crisis, such as the failure of central authority, the problem of minorities, the failure of citizenship, the failure of national identity in foreign policy, the dominance of bureaucratic rationality in the economic realm, electoral engineering, primordial quotas in official recruitment, the instrumentalization of violence, and the lack of an impersonal political system. The Failure of Central Authority The failure of central authority is the typical manifestation of structural sovereignty crisis. Unlike the authority of previous forms such as empires or tribal units, the domestic sovereignty of a modern state denotes absolute authority.165 It is the ultimate authority of a ruler/government within the borders of a state in which no other power can be involved. Since domestic sovereignty is an essential pillar of the modern state, any movement that challenges the existing government also challenges the domestic sovereignty of the government. If a government fails to exercise full control of all parts of the country, then that tells against its domestic sovereignty. A penetration of the central authority by rebels, terrorist activities, or ethnic problems is an instance of a severe sovereignty crisis. When Western modern statehood was brought to the historical Arab lands, notions of central rule and central bureaucracy were also created there. However, the new sovereign states faced structural difficulties in extending and institutionalizing central rule all over their territories. The central authorities in these lands have been continuously challenged and rejected. A compendium of the ways in which domestic sovereignty is limited attests to

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the inapplicability of Western sovereignty criteria, since it cannot but show that important state–society boundary are not in place. The Problem of Minorities The failure of sovereignty has led to serious problems for minorities. For any of several reasons, including the failure of the social contract or of national identity, some minority groups choose to preserve their primordial identities and patterns despite the nation-state framework. This is a typical substitution mechanism that originates from a societal framework. At issue here is the failure of the nation-building process, or the failure of the national epistemology to embrace all the groups in a defined place. The informal tribal and family networks have prevented the creation of impersonal Western-style official relations. A sectarian or tribal power structure can be assumed to exist as a balance of power in domestic politics,166 for people still organize their relations according to tribal loyalties. Minority groups believe that the protection of their status and interest is best organized through primordial ties and identities. As central rule does not reach the periphery, the onus of protecting their primordial identities against dominating groups remains with the minority groups. As a result, primordial ties gradually appeared even in big cities as group solidarity or communal life.167 Therefore, these states are a collection of constituencies rather than a Western-type nation. Automatically, this model creates dedicated regions in the country, like the Sunni region, the Shi’i region, or the Kurdish region. Consequently, central governments face the classic penetration problem. The people of such regions (the tribal or the sectarian domestic minorities), being prone to feelings of alienation, are “risky” populations. The implementation of central government policies in such regions is never without serious difficulty. Many important central government projects are not implemented in the periphery for fear of a penetration crisis. The Failure of Citizenship Citizenship, another basic pillar of modern statehood, was brought to Arab lands during the expansion of the Western-state system. It is thought to be the most important state–society/domestic boundary. All citizens in the defined territory of “a state” have the same rights and responsibilities. As a legal and social framework, citizenship is the axis of Western political philosophy.166 How sovereignty is organized at the domestic level and how a state classifies “self ” and “the other” depends on how these personalities are organized in law. Modern sovereignty and statehood recognizes citizenship as the basic ordering principle. It is one of the most important differentiators of modern statehood and other forms such as the colony of an empire. Citizenship is a

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neutral institution, free of tribal, racial, and gender-based considerations. It denotes the full and responsible individual membership of a state. In the citizenship model, all nationals have equal rights. It is the component of sovereignty that subjects the individual to the constant and impersonal authority of the state, which is the authority that confirms the legitimacy of the legislator, the government. 169 (See figure 1.1.) Naturally, any kind of discrimination among citizens is a typical sovereignty crisis at state–society level, for it confirms that the formal Westernstate model is not operational. Several primordial patterns, such as tribalism and sectarianism, clearly show that citizenship has not yet been fully realized. They are symptoms of sovereignty crisis. Therefore, citizenship is a major subject matter of any study of sovereignty crisis. Even though the Arab states are organized according to the principles of the nation-state model in which citizenship is central, how their domestic politics operates is quite different. At the formal/official level we see a typical Western state. Their constitutions officially support citizenship and the strong link between citizenship and sovereignty. But several primordial and political patterns incompatible with citizenship are implemented at the operational level. Thus in Arab states the formal regulations of citizenship have never been applied thoroughly at the operational level, for several historical and political reasons. The concept of citizenship has been flawed by gender bias, tribalism, regionalism, and sectarianism.170 Even governments are prone to violating citizenship regulations for certain political gains.171 The concept of citizenship as a set of contractual relationships between the individual and the state exists only on paper. Furthermore, the central governments of all states have never refrained from playing tribal or sectarian cards to protect themselves. Therefore, the formal citizenship regime was hybridized by embedded tribal or sectarian practices. Neutral: Takes no account of personal fact, e.g. ethnicity. Rational: Has objective, anticipatable, and accountable rules, e.g. statutory law. Neutral and rational rules create an equality-based (rights and obligations) relationship between state and people.

STATE

citizenship

People participate through taxation and social laws, in exchange for protection, education, health, and equal treatment.

Figure 1.1

Rationality, neutrality, and citizenship.

PEOPLE

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The Failure of National Identity in Foreign Policy The Arab lands, traditionally subject to medieval, overlapping authorities, were turned into a region in which modern territorial states act on the basis of national boundaries. The Arab people were introduced to new political concepts such as “the national interest” and “national foreign policy.” However, although the formal infrastructure of the territorial state was soon in place, the naturalization of new political concepts was far from easy. Realists accept that the modern international system is composed of sovereign states. Each state is equal. States aim to maximize, or protect, their national interests in foreign policy.172 National identity plays a critical role in defining the national interest in foreign policy. However, despite the classic realist motto, “one state one voice,” it is the norm that some groups may be unhappy about their state’s orientation in foreign relations. People may also support some other states’ agendas. However, what is unacceptable is cooperation between groups and external powers, be they foreign-state or foreigngroup powers. From this perspective, the concept of international relations in Arab states is quite difficult, since the distinction between the national and the international realms is not absolute. Therefore, the analysis of how these states formulate their foreign policies in terms of the national identity betrays their “the degree of stateness.”173 To begin with, these states are territorial states, not nation states. It is clear that there is no nation, at least in a European sense, in each case. The formula “national interest” is therefore very tricky. The articulation of national identity, in a way that it coincides only with the territory in which a state is sovereign, calls for very intricate foreign-policy making. The concepts of “state” and “nation” rarely coincide. And where state regimes represent narrow sectional interests rather than all-inclusive interests, the idea of “a national interest” is dissipated beyond recognition. Given the survival of transnational group identity, it is common for people to form alliances with foreign powers/governments, even when those alliances are against their own rulers. Similarly, governments have made alliances against their own people. There is high incongruity between the nation (identity) and the territorial state (sovereignty). This incongruity creates grave problems for the theorist who wants to describe the foreign policies of Arab states. As Hinnebusch says: The consolidation of a system of nation-states in the region is obstructed by the profound flaws originating in its largely external imposition: the resulting often arbitrary borders and ill fit between states and national identities mean that loyalty to the individual states is contested by sub state and suprastate identities. The resultant embedding of the state system in a matrix of fluid multiple identities means that the national interest that realism assumes underlies foreign policy is problematic and contested.174

Because of the inapplicability of the colonially injected format, the divide between the domestic and the international has never been resolved. The

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effect of the informal fluidity of international borders on the formulation of national interests and foreign policy can be interpreted as the outcome of the gap between the formal and the operational levels of international boundaries. As a result of the lack of coincidence between national identity and group identity, Arab regimes are obliged to take several publics into consideration when formulating foreign policy.175 Each state has more than one public: their national public and the big Arab public. Also, the subnational sectarian or tribal publics need more attention, for they effect interconnectedness and overlapping, not separation, between the internal and the international. The internationalization of domestic events is therefore a significant local phenomenon.176 Indeed, the problem concerning the separation of the domestic and the international can manifest as a challenge to state sovereignty. The Dominance of Bureaucratic Rationality in the Economic Realm According to the nation-state rationality, the nation-state announces and solidifies uniformity in political organization, economic activity, and cultural growth. All citizens must enjoy equal rights and duties so that they can compete in every field, including the economic, according to their talents and merits rather than through the privileges of inheritance or origin. Given this rationality, there may be certain violations of sovereignty in the economic realm. Instead of constructing an economic field on such rational principles, the state may use the economy as a disciplining mechanism. In other words, the economy may be organized according to certain normative principles (mainly political loyalty) rather than in accord with rational and neutral principles. The consolidation of modern statehood is impeded when bureaucratic rationality is dominated by a-rational distributions of privilege. This may distort several other important pillars of modern state, such as citizenship. “Rentier state” refers to the bureaucratization of economies in the Arab world. Rentier states are predominantly based on revenue accruing directly from abroad, as distinct from domestic revenue and taxation.177 Entirely unlike production economies, rent economies are an ideal-type circulation economy in which most economic activities ensure income circulation rather than production-oriented behavior.178 Undoubtedly, the idea that states based on external sources of income are substantially different from states based on domestic taxation has led to the coining of the term “rentier state.”179 The rentier state depends on external sources of income rather than on domestic sources such as taxation. It derives a substantial part of its revenue from foreign sources in the form of rent. Therefore, a rentier state is the subsystem associated with a rentier economy, which is either an economy substantially supported by expenditure from the state, while the state itself is maintained from rent accruing from abroad; or more generally: an economy

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in which rent plays a major role.180 Rentier theory argues that stability depends on the liberal internal use of rent to maintain clientage networks and to pacify the military. Oil wealth helps rentier states free foreign policy of certain economic constraints.181 However, once a regime becomes dependent on rent, its foreign policy may be driven by the need to preserve that rent in the long run. Therefore, the main feature of a rentier state is its dependence on an external source. Once such an economic system becomes established, getting access to the rent circuit is a greater preoccupation than reaching productive efficiency.182 In orthodox economic theory, distribution is treated purely as a market process.183 But as expected in oil-rent economics, the state becomes the main intermediary between the oil sector and the rest of the economy. It receives revenues, which are channeled to the economy through public expenditure, and since public expenditure generally represents a large proportion of national income, the distribution of these public funds among claimants has great significance for the future-development pattern of the economy.184 Most important is the political configuration created by the rentier mentality. As rent held in the hands of the government has to be redistributed among the population, special social and economic interests are organized in such a manner as to capture a good slice of it. Not surprisingly, oil production exerts a strong influence on the nature of the state. The rentier mentality creates a specific type of political system. On this model, the whole economy is arranged as a hierarchy of rentiers, with the state or the government at the top of the pyramid acting as the ultimate support of all other rentiers in the economy.185 This political system is different from the production-based models. First, economic power bestowed on the few allows them to seize political power. The conventional role of the state as provider of public goods through the taxation system is blurred in a rentier state by its role as provider of private favors through the ruler’s benevolence.186 In addition, it is unrealistic to expect a civil society in a rentier state.187 Citizens’ loyalty is bought by the state. Paying virtually no taxes, citizens are far less inclined to seek political participation. A new social contract appears in a rentier state in which the government’s budget is an expenditure program that promises to spend money and distribute benefits to the population and imposes virtually no sort of taxation levy. Beblawi notes that citizenship is not only an affective relation between man and his homeland; it is also, or primarily, a pecuniary relation. However, in a rentier model, citizenship becomes a source of economic benefit rather than a civil status with all types of political rights against the state.188 The state is independent of the strength of the domestic economy and does not need to formulate anything deserving the name “economic policy”; all it needs is an expenditure policy.189 It should be pointed out that in this model the most essential function of the modern state, its power to tax, is declined.190 As there is no taxation system, the state increases its financial autonomy and its role in the local economy by controlling domestic credit. In theory, a taxation system has

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several important responsibilities, such as enhancing the legitimacy of the government and preventing the distortion of economic behaviors. Being without a taxation system, the rentier state’s strength and autonomy make it invulnerable to its citizens. Citizens are provided with extensive social services, and pay little or no taxes in return. It is useful here to contrast the conduct of governments in resource-rich nations with that of governments in nations less favorably endowed. In both, governments search for revenues; but they do so in different ways. Those in resource-rich economies tend to secure revenue by extracting it, whereas those in resource-poor nations promote the creation of wealth. Differences in natural endowments thus appear to the shape the behavior of governments.191 In a typical rentier state an authoritarian regime consolidates itself. A state that supports a society economically, while it is itself supported by revenue from external sources, does not need to respond to society. On the other hand, a state that is supported by society through taxes levied in one form or another, will, in the final analysis, be obliged to respond to societal pressure.192 Thus, it is not surprising to see a rentier state expend abundant resources on military equipment and personnel to be used against its own citizens.193 This is understandable: the priority that rentier states gives to military expenditure over civilian tasks can be seen as an indicator of the rulers’ fear of one another and of their own population, and of foreign manipulation.194 The rentier system prohibits the establishment of a democratic system. The well-known motto “no taxation = no representation” has perfect uptake in the rentier state, for that is exactly the equation of its state–society relations. This strident motto pictures Western European democracy as the consequence of capitalist collision with the absolutist state over the traditional and feudal barriers it posed to capitalist advance. Gradually, capitalist actors mobilized their bourgeoning economic power to create parliamentary institutions and impose parliamentary control over the state. This thesis is supported by another oft-cited motto: “No bourgeoisie, no democracy.”195 In sum, economic conditions of the largely rentier kind create severe sovereignty problems. Reflecting Jackson’s quasi-sovereigns, Mehran Kamrava depicts the rentier state as a semi-formal state.196 Most importantly, the rentier model has perverted the primary social boundary between state and society: citizenship. In this model, citizenship implies the financial dependency of individuals on the state. Electoral Engineering Electoral engineering is more evidence that Western sovereignty principles are inapplicable criteria in the Arab world. Potential political threat leads governments to develop electoral agendas that forestall them. Posusney defines electoral engineering as the drawing of district lines, the determining of the number of representative per district and the devising of the rules that

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determine the winner.197 The aim of an electoral policy is to prevent any unwanted development in elections. Accordingly, political life is manipulated to channel all political outcomes into a state-devised framework that delivers the state’s preferences and priorities. Certain groups are favored against others by bureaucratic regulations. The various electoral manipulations see the political game run by tribal or similar personnel. In sharp opposition to the philosophy of citizenship, hybrid sovereigns deploy electoral policies to play one group of citizens against another. What lies beneath such policies is not simple political gain but political distrust of some groups. Because of structural deficits in the nation-building process, governments want to rely only on certain parts of their societies. This is so grave a departure from the Western sovereignty model that its principles do not apply. Primordial Quotas in Official Recruitment It is a fact that the colonially imposed state models failed to encompass all groups in the states that experienced the imposition. Governments try to protect their regimes by depending on certain loyal groups. By doing so, the state reaches only some groups of people. However, the use of tribal methods to consolidate state power is a typical example of sovereignty crisis. In no way does a tribal form of power refer to a consolidated modern state.198 When rulers fail to build exclusive monopolies of coercive authority and control, largely because they have failed to develop forms of popular legitimacy, they inevitably resort to sectarian or tribal agendas.199 As a result, sub-identities such as tribalism, sectarianism, and regionalism usurp the role of citizenship. While they exercise their power through the military and bureaucracy, they lack a stable social base in a dominant class (aristocracy or bourgeoisie) and, therefore, substitute the use of primordial (kinship, ethnic, religion), ’asabiyyah, and patronage to assure elite solidarity . . .200

This tribal mode of behavior has exerted influence on the decision-making process of states.201 Several old form of loyalty such as the ’asabiyya of a tribe or the sense of kinship of a clan remained a mechanism for the distribution of power and wealth.202 Equally, governments have exploited the chronic internal strife among ethnic minorities.203 Certainly, such a sectarian or tribal agenda contradicts the notion of modern statehood. Tribes represent large kin groups organized and regulated according to ties of blood or family lineage. In contrast, the modern state is a structure that exercises a monopoly on power in a given territory on the basis of citizenship. What states require is a more complex loyalty than that of traditional kinship.204 Modern state-formation necessitates the end of preexisting tribal or sectarian ethos. Nation building means both the formation and establishment of the new state as a political entity, the creation of viable degrees

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of unity, and an attendant sense of national identity among people.205 However, despite the nation-building process in Arab states, it is a fact that they face considerable difficulty in bringing central government to all corners of their territories. To use Anderson’s classification, there is still a problem of Bled al-Makhzen and Bled al-Siba in these states.206 They have been unable to develop fully integrated communities along the lines of the European nation-state.207 Adequate stateness, which can be defined as a balanced combination of the coercive capacity and infrastructural power of the state and a high degree of identification on the part of the citizenry with the idea of the particular state that encompasses them territorially, does not exist in these states.208 To counterbalance this structural gap, local governments have used certain policies of tribalism and sectarianism as main substation policies in order to protect the existing regimes. Methodologically, such subsidiary policies are important in an explanation of how Western sovereignty is not an applicable criterion in Arab states. The Instrumentalization of Power Rather than through rational and objective processes, governments establish a system through absolute power. This authoritarian structure is another indicator of absence of positive sovereignty. All these states are authoritarian at different levels. The basic reason for resorting to power structures is the failure to penetrate society in areas such as taxation and law enforcement.209 The state, according to Weber, has a monopoly on the legitimate use of organized power. But how can a state institutionalize its power in its territory? It can choose between power-oriented and mechanism-oriented means. The modern state organizes its authority through social and economic institutions. However, when those institutions are not in place, some states become power-oriented actors in domestic society. Since they fail in persuading their people through economic and other means, they use violence and power to control them. Jill Crystal argues: To coerce, you need not convince. Indeed, one of the attractions of repression is that violence needs no justification to be effective: fear is reason enough.210

As a matter of fact, the organization of state authority through peer power betrays the lack of a functioning social contract between the nation and thestate. According to Ayubi, the Arab state did not evolve out of its own socioeconomic history or cultural and intellectual tradition.211 As an artificial set-up, the Arab state, though it has all the elements of statehood at a formal level, fails to activate them. It is to be expected that many complex institutions of the Western-state model will not be realized in a short period. Therefore, the failure to activate its essential institutions, citizenship, taxation, and domestic

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authority, is common. Thus, a state has to resort to raw coercion for selfpreservation. Ayubi’s explanation of this situation recalls that of Gramsci’s. Gramsci realized that to rule, the state and/or the dominant class does not have to rely solely on the coercive power of the state, or even on its direct economic power. Rather, through its hegemony, expressed in the civil society and the state, the ruled can be persuaded to accept the system of belief of the ruling class and to share its social, cultural, and moral values.212 But the Arab state has failed to deploy social and economic instruments to realize a Gramscian hegemony.213 The dominant class/state should seek to establish its hegemony by both coercion and persuasion. It should use its political, moral, and intellectual leadership to commend its worldview to the nation. But none of the Arab states has been successful in creating a persuading space. The lack of persuading space resulted in the failure to create functional social boundaries between the state and those subject to its rule. Several social and economic problems, such as the rentier mentality and ethnic issues, prohibit the validation of social boundaries between the state and the people. Instead, social groups gather around alternative boundaries such as tribal loyalty. The economic and political transformation that failed to occur during state formation bears responsibility for the current absence of Gramscian hegemonic instruments. When several important institutions/ boundaries do not function, the use of power as a subsidiary policy is the logical instrument in the protection of domestic stability or a political regime. The Arab states have tried to operate the Western-state model without the necessary transformation/infrastructure. This deficiency is one of the basic reasons why sovereignty has not been consolidated in domestic politics. Lisa Anderson agrees:214 In Europe, the bureaucratic state with a monopoly of the legitimate use of force in a given territory arose at the same time as the economic and social changes with which it is associated in social theory: the appearance of capitalism, industrialists and working classes, class consciousness, and ideological politics.

Having never had the infrastructural instruments (the “hegemonic ability” in Gramsci’s sense), states have to be coercive. There is no Western public sphere in which individuals are persuaded/incorporated by the state. The state has the maximum authority in all sectors. Neither the economic sector nor any other is able to produce its own independent rationality. The state decides and determines in all spheres. In other words, though these states have a capitalist mode of production in theory, they do not have a hegemonic bourgeoisie.215 But how does a Western model exist in such a problematic context? Or, if the model lacks the needed pillars, how can one sustain the continuity of political regimes? The answer is again in the strategy of compensating for deficits.

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These cases bring us to the political origins of hybridity. The political and social consequences of hybridity help current leaders protect their offices and regimes. As colonially created states lacking legitimacy, their rulers cover this gap with power. Therefore, the most important role of sovereignty in these states is in its instrumentalization against the people as a means of consolidating state power.216 This instrumentalization delivers unfettered control over internal affairs, and notably, over the domestic population. This is nothing if not pragmatic: the main security problem in postcolonial states is domestic rather than international; the traditional security dilemma is turned on its head.217 Sovereignty is used as an ideology for internal consolidation.218 In sum, since the formal institutions of colonially created Arab states have failed to sustain stable political systems, local governments instrumentalized power as a major subsidiary method. However, the resort to power enables several important conclusions. First, the colonially injected model cannot be consolidated by a resort to raw violence. Second, the centrality of violence prohibits the realization of important institutions of the modern state. Rather than create reliable institutions, local governments preferred to rely on power. Third, the most important, essential prerequisite of realizing a Western state through nation building has been dramatically impeded by local governments’ persistent resort to power against their own populations. Fourth, the use of power in domestic politics entails the dominant role of security institutions. Their subjugation of civil institutions is another impediment to the realization of modern state forms. To conclude: the centrality of power in domestic politics is clear proof that Western sovereignty has not been realized in Arab states. The Absence of an Impersonal Political System Despite the formal modern state structure, political regimes in Arab states are one-man or one-family, one-tribe, one-clan regimes. All of them lack a transparent system. Since they have failed to establish infrastructural legitimacy or functioning social boundaries between state and society, they have preferred to depend on personal legitimacy. Consequently, a Weberian/ modern-type impersonal system cannot come into existence. As there is no democratic mechanism, leaders come to power either by coups or by different in-group rights such as lineage. Therefore, leaders have technically no grassroots support. This produces the structural legitimacy crisis. In other words, their positions are very fragile. No state has a transparent public or participation mechanism in which several governmental plans can be discussed. Rulers propagate their policies to a politically regulated “official public.” The official public has no institutional civil rights. Nor do they have the needed structural rights. The “official public sphere” being without an opposition politics and democratic rights,

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the current regimes can play a great “as if ” game to manipulate their own people. In this model, the head of state is the ultimate decision-maker. Therefore, the mechanism of popular representation is very limited. All actors know that it is the leader who has the absolute power; thus all other actors are only symbolically present. The entire system revolves around the leader/the group. Also, all relevant institutions, such as the bureaucracy and the army, are formed according to person-based ideologies. This model constitutes a major obstacle to the development of a modern state apparatus, for it lacks an institutionalized process of decision-making. It is difficult to reform the political structure of authoritarian states while preserving their current leader-based structures. In addition, any kind of reform may mean a threat to the current leaders. When there is no legitimacy mechanism for criticism and change, only extreme options can be an alternative. These systems permit only extreme forms of leadership changes, such as coup d’état or death. As expected, such systems have obstructed the emergence of a moderntype political system. Instead, a system emerged that is without a calculable logic, one that deploys unpredictable instruments, such as tribalism and personal networks. These are unmitigated relative patterns. Consequently, the distinction between persons and positions has never been clarified in such states.219 Instead, political systems have been organized around the leader cult. The lack of distinction between person and position is a typical medieval pattern of rule. Consequently, all official positions are held as contingencies of loyalty to the leader. Therefore, the primordial patterns of rule have continued within the format of the colonially imposed Western model.

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G enesi s of the Western Model in Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq Preliminary Remarks This chapter limits itself to a brief depiction of how the Western-state model entered the region that is today known as Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq. Analysis of how this alien model clashes with local conditions will occur in ensuing chapters. The analysis, and the model theory on which it is conducted, would be incomplete without an account of how Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq came to be state entities. A historical discussion is therefore unavoidable. This discussion, however, has no ambition to advance a new historical method or to challenge existing methods. It aims merely to provide a calendar of events that will contextualize the analytical purpose of this work.

Injection of the Westphalian Model Arab lands of the former Ottoman Empire were reorganized according to the Western concept of statehood, that is, on the Westphalian format, after World War I, on British instigation. How this reorganization changed the traditional formation of Ottoman lands was thematically summarized in chapter 1. This chapter presents a brief picture of the events that created the territorial states Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq. Any account of those events necessarily engages in an unraveling of the conditions that produced the hybridstate models of the Arab Middle East in which Westphalian principles and local tradition are at once tightly and irreconcilably fused. The colonial formula for the reorganization was precise: The birth of the nation-state announces and solidifies uniformity in political organization, economic activity and cultural growth. This uniformity is daily reproduced by the rational organization of one army, one police force, one bureaucracy, and one law supervising and governing all citizens enjoying equal rights and duties. All barriers, be they social or religious, were removed, and a

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This grand process of state-making was to oust the medieval structures of traditional Arab culture and replace it with structures of the rational modern state. Many edifices quite foreign to Arab culture were to be erected, among them national boundaries and a new locus of authority: the state and a central bureaucracy. These dramatic innovations that modern statehood made peremptory were indeed administered like an injection into the tribal and local-sectarian patterns of traditional governance. This injection introduced (i) the Arab sovereign state that exists as a territorial unit in the international system of sovereign states, and (ii) the domestic political structure powered by Western/ Weberian rationality that supersedes the old, medieval, overlapping forms of governance. The nation-state is a European entity and is considered to be the base of progress and modernization that the British colonial power deemed essential; however, it was utterly alien in the Arab Middle East. Tension marked its arrival: the traditional forms could not be abandoned lightly, yet modernization/Westernization presumed their abandonment. The outcome was the hybrid modern state in which traditional Arab forms and the formal mechanisms of the modern state coexist uncomfortably.

Ottoman-Era Modernization The reorganization of Arab lands in line with the Western model did not begin with the British-sponsored introduction of the Westphalian state model. Ottoman modernization was also a very important period, as many reforms were carried out by the Ottoman modernizing elite during the last decades of the Empire. Though the political developments of the early twentieth century were the final shapers of the modern Arab political scene, it was the Ottoman-era reforms that had brought the remotest lands, only nominally under Ottoman sovereignty, under direct rule through the Tanzimat state, itself a complex of modern rational institutions.2 Ottoman modernization thus has substantial historical significance. For some historians, among them Makdisi, the idea of Ottoman Orientalism is far from vacuous: He acknowledges that it was Ottoman reforms that first put forward the Western model as the guidebook for progress in Oriental space. Especially in the Tanzimat era, the Ottoman state tried to reorganize itself into a modern and bureaucratic state.3 In that effort, the Ottoman’s discourse on development proposed the Western model as the suitable one for addressing progress in the East. As Deringil holds, the first of the Europeanizing projects was initiated by the Ottomans.4 Therefore, the following account studies both external (Western influence) and internal (Ottoman modernization) facts in analyzing the rise of the Western model in Arab lands.

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Kuwait: From Pearl to Oil As Crystal observes, the Gulf States defy most of the usual assumptions about how states are formed and how they commonly behave. By definition, they are accidental states owing their survival to regional upheavals, British policy, and political convenience.5 It would be difficult to find another group of states that owes so much of its political and economic developments to external events.6 Kuwait is a Gulf State that can be categorized in this external-event engendered group. Britain’s role was decisive in the emergence of modern Kuwait as a Western-state-like entity. But it was the rivalry between the Ottomans and the British, and only later the British policies, that produced modern Kuwait. In nineteenth-century Kuwait, traditional tribal ties were the basis of society. Several independent family groups dominated social and economic life, but Jewish and Indian settlers were also important operators in the local trade arrangements. The slave trade with Africa also created an important black population in the region. The rich traders in important ports had no cultivable hinterland. They exported pearls, dates, date syrup, clothing, camels, horses, and hides, and imported food, coffee, spices, textiles, and metals. This traditional trade-based local elite dominated social and political life. Around the cities, peasants were the majority of the population, and they were vulnerable to Bedouin raids.7 This traditional landscape was disturbed only by the competition between Ottoman and British powers in the Gulf. Yet it was from this rivalry that modern Kuwait emerged. The Limits of Ottoman Recovery The British presence in Aden since 1839, and its increasing influence in other Arab regions, was a clear threat to the Ottomans.8 However, unable to control the coast from Aden to Abu Dhabi, the Ottomans could not hope to succeed in eradicating the British presence. The spread of Ottoman authority to the southeastern Arabian coast was the better option. When the ruler of Bahrain asked for Ottoman aid against the Wahhabi Emir in 1849, the Ottomans appreciated this event as an opportunity for implementing their plan to arrest the spread of British influence in the region. Midhat Pasha, the Ottoman local governor in Baghdad, quickly responded to the Bahraini ruler’s invitation, but his real strategy was to secure Kuwait and other neighboring lands as permanent Ottoman territory.9 The historical fact that Kuwait had been part of Basra was an important source of inspiration for Midhat Pasha. Despite the fact that the Ottoman flag had flown in the region, with the growing British influence, Kuwait became a quasiindependent state. Midhat Pasha meant to end this alarming situation by bringing Kuwait under Ottoman administration. During his visit to the region, Midhat Pasha hastened to reassert Ottoman rule. To this end, he turned financial instruments against the local rulers. He cut off their traditional revenue from the trade in Basra dates, attempting to

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force them to negotiate with him. The outcome of these negotiations was that in 1871 he named the leading sheikh, Abdullah al-Sabah, as kaymakam. Midhat Pasha also established a well-organized gendarmerie in the region to support the rule of the kaymakam. In this way, Kuwait became part of the new Ottoman hierarchical system. Midhat Pasha then focused on regions such as Hasa. He proposed an official plan for Istanbul in which he claimed that the emergence of a foreign presence in the region was causing the local people to forget the Ottomans. In view of that, a stronger link between these Muslim people and Istanbul was necessary. In fact, the Ottoman preference for cheap government—a policy of spending no more than necessary to ensure the collection of a moderate level of revenue and the endorsement of an unsuccessful but sustained ambition to squeeze the populace—had already eroded local attachment to the Ottoman Empire.10 To restore Ottoman rule, Midhat Pasha established a new administrative model. It was his reform program that appointed the first regularly paid civil servants in the region. The pasha created new administrative units, appointing rulers to run each of them, and conferring upon these rulers titles such as kaymakam, mutasarrif, beytulmal mudiri (treasurer), and judge. Each unit had an administrative council (meclis-i idare). As part of this reform program, Midhat Pasha insisted that the first language of these newly created institutions was to be Ottoman.11 He introduced several other compulsory practices to promote uniformity in social life. In general, the administrative reforms in the region produced the earliest forms of modern patterns of authority. Parallel to the centralizing spirit of the Tanzimat, his reforms were the earliest attempts to rearrange Kuwaiti space as a modern-government form. Modernization attempts, since the very beginning, have always clashed with a major inhibitor: tribal insubordination. This was not surprising, as the tribes had always been the epitome of the Arab social authority mechanism. In one sense, a call for modernization was a deadly attack to the tribal way of life. “Tribal” in the Arab context is never a reference to the simple pastoral life. Rather, it is a reference to the complex set of institutions and traditions that had long been the basic motor of Arab societies. Midhat Pasha was careful to bring the tribes under his control by securing the local tribal leaders’ cooperation. An example of this was his appointment of several sheiks as the new official rulers. Several other tribal and local leaders became kaymakam in the newly created kazas (district). In parallel, the Ottoman reformist bureaucrats attempted to turn the Bedouins into farmers through taxation and new land registration reforms. Further, Midhat introduced new methods of land use under the title “land tenure reform.” He opened miri (public) lands for cultivation, and levied new taxes with the new land tenure regime. There were reforms in areas such as education and health also. It is a fact that from the beginning of the late Ottoman rule in the 1890s, educational opportunities improved noticeably. However, the Empire’s financial troubles limited reform efforts, and the weak communication routes, and the generally

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poor condition of the Ottoman rule in the region, enabled the local Kuwaiti rulers to protect their historically autonomous status. Regional developments and their consequences were of significance. Several developments in the late nineteenth century altered the course of history. The issue of the local kaymakamlık, which was a cause of fractious relations between Muhammad (officially the sheikh-kaymakam of Kuwait) and the Ottomans, contributed to the emergence of modern Kuwait. An important event occurred in 1896, when Muhammad was murdered by his brother Mubarak. Mubarak moved quickly to win acceptance and appointment as the new official ruler. To this end, he took advantage of the weakness of the local Ottoman administration. Using his wealth to good effect, he won the loyalty of several local rulers. However, several Ottoman officials in the region rejected his plans and appealed to Istanbul for an order of military occupation. For the Ottomans, given their already substantial problems in governing this land, leaving it without a sheikh meant making it vulnerable to local and foreign intriguers. So, rather than risk the Ottoman position in Kuwait, Istanbul was amenable to appointing Mubarak, but it was slow off the mark in actually doing so. Meanwhile, local notables had organized around Mubarak to support his claim for the official post. Ottoman hesitancy about his appointment as the new kaymakam saw him turn to another foreign power for support. Because of the British factor and other developments, Istanbul decided to recognize Mubarak as the new kaymakam. However, a simple plan, which aimed to increase both Mubarak’s and Kuwait’s dependence on the Ottoman Empire, accompanied the appointment. Mubarak was to have a regular salary, and a religious council, the Basra ulema, was to assist him as canonical court judge. A small unit of the Ottoman gendarmerie was to be sent to the region and put at the disposal of the official kaymakam.12 Meanwhile, Britain seized upon the tension between the local rulers and Istanbul as an opportunity to increase her influence in the region. British officials and Mubarak commenced negotiations in 1899. Actually, the priorities of the two negotiating parties were not the same. Mubarak thought that the continuing serious threat to his position could be allayed only by Great Power protection.13 For their part, the British were negotiating with Mubarak with the aim of expanding their Trucial System to include Kuwait. The Trucial System The Trucial System was the product of British historical hegemony in the Gulf and consisted of a series of treaties between Britain and some local rulers in the Gulf. Gradually, it became a complex regional coalition of these rulers loosely resting on British authority. British influence had made itself felt in the region since the seventeenth century. Since then, Britain has sought to prevent the presence of other European powers in the region. Her priority was “. . . to work the area into the British division of labor.”14 The British connection with the region rose from the need to protect the East India

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Company’s trade. During the nineteenth century, Britain tried to check piracy, maritime warfare, and slave traffic. The priority was to prohibit the costal Arabs’ actions against their local trade. In short, the British interest in the region had both strategic and economic purposes. Britain was also seeking to extend its authority in the region through institutional mechanisms rather than through endless bargains. In 1820, the sheikhs of Bahrain and the Omani coast were persuaded to agree to a General Treaty of Peace, which called for the suppression of piracy and slave trading. In 1853, another peace treaty was signed, which prohibited aggression in Gulf waters. These treaties introduced many Western practices such as ship registration, navigation rules, and so on. The treaty system marked the beginning of Great Britain’s political supremacy over the Arabs of the Gulf. Meanwhile, several other Gulf political entities formed special relations with Western powers by acceding to treaties that distributed benefits unequally between the parties. Qatar’s was one experience of the expansion of the state system as a deficit to itself. Qatar entered into treaty relations with Britain in the same way that China and Japan had. The ruler of Qatar signed an agreement with Britain in 1916, by which he undertook to enforce antislavery regulations.15 The traditional responsibilities of the ruler changed after Qatar entered into treaty relations with Britain. This experience displayed the typical consequences of the expansion of the state system. Qatar’s entry into relations with European powers had a prior history. It signed its first treaty with Britain in 1820 (the General Treaty of Peace). Typically unequal, this treaty created new responsibilities for Qatar’s ruler. It imposed obligations on both parties with regard to the slave trade and to trade generally, as well as administrative duties.16 But several of its clauses secured a clear British advantage. For instance, one has the ruler of Qatar promise that he would not grant pearl-fishery concessions, or any other concessions, without the consent of the British government. Another clause has him recognize British subjects’ right of residence in Qatar for trade purposes. There were several other treaties in 1806 and 1819 between the two parties. Not only Qatar’s history but also those of other Gulf States should be studied from the perspective of treaty making. From the beginning of the sixteenth century, the history of the Gulf is linked with the political and commercial competition of Western countries. But it is only with the colonial era that state structure appears to have consolidated and extended its authority over the entire Qatari territory.17 With these treaties, many Western institutions were transferred to these lands through the power of the concessions obtained. More importantly, the treaties between Britain and the local rulers changed the traditional understanding of politics in the region. Also, it was through the treaties that the local rulers gained international status for the first time. The Trucial System, initially devised to serve British imperial interests, was also the detailed process that unexpectedly became the path to Arab Westernization. Beyond

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traditional administrative reforms, the system introduced many important new regulations into the daily lives of the regional people. The Trucial System affected Kuwait too. Following other regional samples, the first treaty between Britain and Kuwait was formalized in 1841: the Anglo-Kuwaiti Maritime Truce.18 Like many other treaties with non-European actors, this one was supposed to regulate maritime trade according to Western standards. However, the Treaty of 1841 did not satisfy British needs in the region. Therefore, the British maneuvered for a new agreement that would take into account the new conditions in the region. Britain’s interfered in the political tension between Mubarak and Istanbul (mentioned above) in order to revive the terms of the Trucial System with Kuwait. When Mubarak first took power in 1896, he maintained a neutral position that sought good relations with all external powers, including the Ottomans and the British. However, given the rise of British influence in the Gulf region, it was not possible for Mubarak to ignore the British factor. Also, the less-than-fulsome endorsement by Istanbul of Mubarak’s leadership held an implicit threat. His decision to sign a new treaty with Britain in 1899 moved Kuwait more decisively into the Trucial System. (Istanbul’s opaque attitude to Mubarak may or may not have influenced Mubarak’s decision.) The Anglo-Kuwaiti Agreement guaranteed many of Mubarak’s interests, including his estates in Iraq, and it promised an ideal, independent Kuwait that would retain control of its internal affairs while Britain assumed responsibility for its security and foreign relations. Mubarak insisted that only the Trucial system offered the means of preserving Kuwait’s independence. Yet this treaty was another typically unequal one: it effected Kuwait’s integration into the British colonial system by its ruler’s undertaking to exclude all other powers from Kuwaiti territory. Kuwait promised: . . . not to receive the Agent or Representative of any Power or Government at Kuwait, or at any other place within the limits of his territory; without the previous sanction of the British Government; and further binds himself, his heirs and successors not to cede, sell, lease, mortgage, or give for occupation or for any other purpose any portion of his territory to the Government or subjects of any other Power without the previous consent of Her Majesty’s Government for these purposes.19

This agreement unequivocally brought Kuwait into the expanding Westernstate system. It marked the historical turning point in the emergence of a Western-type state in the region, for it saw the transfer into its context of many Western forms and institutions. As Ismael noted, it was also the agreement that facilitated Kuwait’s integration into the emerging world capitalist system of production.20 It should be noted that this Anglo-Kuwaiti Agreement of 1899 was terminated only after 1961, when Kuwait was proclaimed a sovereign state. It had reigned in Kuwait for almost a century.21 The agreement had brought in its tow advisers who organized the country’s

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nascent modern bureaucracy. The British presence was consequently the dominant one, and Mubarak’s promotion of British policies established their hegemony in Arab lands. Naturally, the rise of the pro-British tendency in Kuwait caused several other changes. It disconcerted the established families who had been on good terms with Istanbul and continued to favor close relations with the Ottomans. As a homogenous body through social origin, these Sunni merchant families were from Basra. Composed of Indian, Persian, and Ottoman elements, they had come to Kuwait in the previous century. A conservative people, they were the most important financiers of political and social life in Kuwait, and they were committed to the preservation of the traditional ties between Kuwait and Ottoman Iraq. Since the first Utbi families came to the region in the eighteenth century, their family tradition had formed an important component of politics in Kuwait. Their concerns and role were as important in all significant political decisions as those of the Sunni merchants. After signing the 1899 Agreement, Mubarak moved quickly to implement several economic policies that would displace the historical pro-Ottoman notables. The Utbi merchants were particularly ready to accept Mubarak’s coup d’état, as his first step was to levy taxes on imports from Basra and other Turkish ports. This contributed to the inexorable rise of the pro-British stance, which gradually annihilated the pro-Ottoman societal structure and replaced it with a new class of notables. Mubarak had knowingly created an upper class loyal to himself and the British side to replace the former pro-Ottomans notables on whose loyalty neither he nor the British could count. In the meantime, the growth of British military and economic power in the region forced merchants to seek new alliances. Britain had successfully consolidated its power in the region. It had monopolized regional trade since the early 1800s, and had diverted the India trade route from the Persian Gulf to the Red Sea. This shift quickly diminished both maritime and caravan traffic in the Gulf region. The rise of British commercial and military power, enhanced by the steam engine, had almost displaced the region’s nascent industries. These developments weakened the power of the Kuwait traditional merchant class at a time when the Ottoman Empire was attempting to strengthen its own position in the Gulf. Nevertheless, the local merchants had noticed that it was more lucrative to be in alliance with the British than with the Ottomans. The Utbi merchants especially saw greater opportunity on the British side. This shift was not surprising, for it was not without precedent. According to Jill Crystal, regional balances in Kuwait have always been defined and redefined by such shifts: When trade was good, small settlements emerged to rival each other in carrying the traffic. When trade withered, routes shifted, or droughts deepened, then central regulation weakened, alliances changed, rivalries turned to war and tribes moved.22

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The Triumph of the Trucial System Kuwait protected its position in the Trucial System in the following decade. It was mainly this trucial relation with Britain that brought to Kuwait modern institutions based on the Western model. Under the aegis of this trucial model, Kuwait was transformed into a new political structure in line with the Western-state model. Many simple but routine Western practices permeated the Trucial system. In 1902, British control over Kuwait was recognized in Istanbul. The first British political agent was assigned in 1904.

British-Guided State Formation Mubarak (1896–1915), the founder of modern Kuwait, effectively used political autonomy under the auspices of the truce with Britain in the interest of constructing an independent political entity. Kuwait, under Mubarak’s leadership within the British colonial system, became a Western-like state.23 He led as an autocratic ruler, having set aside the traditional forms of tribal leadership. His was the earliest form of authority rule in the region, equipped with a relatively centralized bureaucracy and military power. This gave him considerable clout, and he was not slow to use it. For example, he sent a military expedition to Arabia to bring the system there under his control. With these kinds of exploits he emerged as the foremost ruler in the region, and the only one who headed a centralized power structure. As in many other colonized lands, it was essential here to establish a central government with ultimate authority in all parts of the country. To this end, several new policies, such as the tax levy, were the early symbols of the advent of modern statehood. To handle new reforms, Mubarak established new institutions and schools to educate the necessary administrative personnel. His centralist policies created the basis for the earliest centralized state administration. Meanwhile, the local rulers rallied to symbolic but important practices such as displaying flags, and to some other Western bureaucratic rituals. But in general, Britain exercised indirect control.24 Accordingly, British advisers imposed British policies indirectly and unofficially. Also, the technical experts directing the various local government departments were British. The latter commanded the local armed forces, too. The British Political Resident, acting as the ambassador responsible for protecting British interests in the region, was also the figurehead of British indirect rule.25 Though there were many British officials and advisors, the British Political Agent developed a tradition of informal dialogue with the Kuwaiti rulers. But the most important feature of the time was the consolidation of central rule in Kuwait, thanks to the new doctrine of rule brought by these foreign advisors. Kuwait’s modern borders were also a product of the British presence in the region. Though Kuwait had long been known as an important region, quite where its borders lay had never been settled. Boundaries had changed

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according to intertribal conflicts or the traditional rulers’ political movements. In 1913, Britain and the Ottoman Empire organized several diplomatic meetings to discuss the boundary problems of the Gulf region, including Kuwait. According to the 1913 Convention, Kuwait was in treaty relations with Britain, but formally it remained Ottoman land. However, political developments at both regional and international levels prevented the successes of these prewar attempts at Big Power mutual accommodation. In 1913, the Ottomans granted Britain important rights, including unlimited railway extension south of Basra. In 1914 the British recognized Kuwait as an independent principality under British protection. The text of the 1914 Agreement defined Kuwait as an independent government under British protection.26 The Ottomans did not ratify the Anglo-Kuwaiti agreement of 1914.27 But, the virtual loss of Kuwait caused the end of traditional Ottoman tribal policies in Arabia, which had depended on the control of the coast and all major towns. Not ignoring the importance of diplomatic attempts, the rise of boundary issues ran parallel with the incorporation of Kuwait into the international system by Britain. For Britain, a boundary to settle the frontiers of Iraq, Kuwait, and Saudi Arabia was convenient as a means of solving related political problems. The delineation of frontiers was eventually decided and declared in the Uqair Protocol of 1922. The decision was made in typical colonial style: Sir Percy took a red pencil and very carefully drew in on the map of Arabia a boundary line . . . this gave Iraq a large area of territory claimed by Najd. Obviously to placate Ibn Saud, he ruthlessly deprived of Kuwait of nearly twothirds of her territory and gave it to Najd.28

Sir Percy Cox’s gave dramatic reasons, in his report to the secretary of state for the Colonies, for why the Protocol he oversaw had created a neutral zone. A rumor had reached him that signs of oil had been observed in the region, which was a matter of concern for him. He wrote in the report, “. . . I did not feel able to agree to its allocation to either party . . .”29 Oriental space had thus easily become the object of a Western agent’s prerogative to allocate. Britain’s primary aim was to limit Saudi influence in Iraq. To achieve this, two-third of the land claimed by Kuwait was given to Saudi Arabia. Though this angered the Kuwaiti side, it was beyond Kuwaiti capacity to reject the British proposal. The Uqair Protocol was a typical colonial decision about national boundaries. With the Agreement as facilitator, Britain created the national boundaries of Kuwait according to its imperial perspective. Ironically, the geographical limits of Kuwait were decided by external actors. Political developments after the 1899 Agreement with the United Kingdom changed the historical configuration of political and social life tremendously. New developments pushed Kuwait to a more central political structure. As expected, the rise of central authority created social discontent in circles such as the Bedouin groups and local merchant families. The Bedouin were the original settlers of Kuwait. Their mode of production

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throughout the centuries set a specific type of social stratification and structure in these lands. This kinship-based social structure produced a segmented lineage system in which livestock was privately owned, with families participating in corporate units of ownership. But all other important livelihood items, such as pasture, were tribal property. The basic means of surplus appropriation in the desert was through intertribal raiding. The Bedouin’s high level of mobility created correspondingly high levels of autonomy. They were antagonistic to the settled ways of agriculture and trade. The clash between the modern and the tribal, apart from simple interest-based conflicts, was a clash of paradigms. Equally, their way of life was antagonistic to any kind of central rule. Indeed, intertribal conflicts underlie the origin of Kuwait. The migrations of several tribes in the late seventeenth to early eighteenth century were the main demographic movements that led to the formation of Kuwait. However, the rise of the new central rule challenged this traditional structure. A mixture of traditional tribal forms and new conditions entailed new political, economic, and social arrangements in which the tribal traditions would be preserved in a new configuration. The transformation of society and economics affected ruling notables, too. The former desert aristocrats were to be the new ruling class of the town. The advent of new economic means such as regional trade, pearling, and fishing created the earliest forms of transition from nomadic to sedentary life. The tribal, desert-molded characteristics would surely infuse the newly created politics. The rise of Western-like central rule created deep resentment among traditional merchant families. For them, the new political system’s challenge to the historical contract between merchant families and rulers was unacceptable. For ages, a special relationship had been the basic mechanism between the ruling family and leading merchant families. An informal consultation mechanism was the essence of this relationship. Accordingly, the rulers exerted their skill, power, and influence to ensure the social and political security of the Kuwaiti people. For their part, the merchants pursued their business activities, but they acknowledged the leadership of the ruling family and made voluntary financial contributions to them from the profits they enjoyed under the ruling family’s protection. These merchants extracted revenue from pearl divers rather than peasants, and gave a portion of these extracted revenues to the ruler through customs dues, pearl boat taxes, and personal loans.30 The merchants were strong, thanks to their income and to their ability to mobilize manpower. This relationship between families and rulers can be termed “the historical social contract of Kuwait.” Believing that the new centralist system might endanger their historical status, the traditional merchant families challenged the rise of the new system.31 The traditional balance was broken, and some merchants left Kuwait and settled in Bahrain. Aware of the importance of the traditional merchant class, Mubarak tried to call them back. However, the nature of the

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balance between the merchants and the government was on the eve of a historic change because of one important economic development: the rise in the desirability of the cultured pearl. The introduction of the cultured pearl paralyzed the status of merchants in Kuwait. In 1930, Japanese cultured pearls depreciated the value of natural pearls. Due to the crisis, the number of boats engaged in pearl harvesting operations started to fall. Many pearl merchants and fleet captains were bankrupted. Pearl workers and experts started looking for new jobs in other regions. The crisis in the pearl industry quickly led to financial crises for local governments; however, at the same time, it increased the rulers’ leverage on the merchants. But it was not so easy to dominate them. In 1921, the merchant class once again organized to protect its political interests. The aim of big merchant families was to forestall fraction in the ruling family over succession issues. They openly asked for a formal position in politics. Making such moves, they gradually became the nucleus of the opposition movement. And they established councils to institutionalize and protect their interests. The merchants forced the ruler to establish the National Legislative Council (Majlis), in 1938, for the purpose of managing economic development and implementing reforms. To achieve their goals, the members of the council circulated antigovernment leaflets, and they even openly invited the emir to abdicate. Their demands included improvements and reforms in the social services, education, and administration. The Majlis Movement of 1938 also affected the idea and form of political opposition. It was a modern type of opposition, quite unlike the traditional expression of disagreement by secession. Rather than express opposition in the traditional mode by leaving Kuwait, the merchants stood their ground at home and insisted that their demands be met. Unlike their historical predecessors, the interwar merchants chose to stand fast and confront their ruler.32 This departure from tradition paradoxically contributed to state formation in Kuwait. Apart from the political and institutional achievements of the opposition, the Majlis Movement improved the link between merchants and the state at a paradigmatic level. The Legislative Council presented itself as the representative of the Kuwaiti people. Thus, as the basic authority, the Council defined itself as the body with a mandate to make the law of the land.33 Its task was to create all manner of laws, including the tertiary laws that regulate the state budget, the justice system, public security, education, and health. The Council also had responsibility for legitimizing all internal and external agreements. Further, a National Assembly was also established, and several administrative units, such as the finance department. Until the establishment of the finance department, there had been no formal distinction between the state’s and the ruler’s revenues. Therefore, the fiscal-reform demands of the Majlis Movement brought into being the first modern budget. The Assembly established a new security force, which introduced the first formal distinction between internal and external security.

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With these two new institutions, the Majlis Movement paved the way for a new fiscal and coercive apparatus of statehood.34 A modern court system was developed. Despite the ruler-oriented traditional model, the new justice system provided for courts with technical competencies, such as the merchant arbitration courts. Even though the British influence was evident and important in legal reforms, the basic aim was not to construct a legal system on the Westminster model, but to have a body of law and a judiciary system that served the purpose of state formation.35 As it happened, a mixture of Western and local practices formed the rudiments of the legal system during colonial rule. The emergence of modern Kuwait owed its success mainly to its special relations with Britain. Kuwait became an international actor with the help of British protection. Many important facts of its modern statehood, such as a central rule and international boundaries, were created in the course of its relations with Britain, both through truces and as a consequence of colonial rule.36 The resulting political structure remained in place without major changes until the oil boom.

Jordan: Ottoman Modernization Meets the Colonial West Though the fact is underrated, the emergence of the modern state in Jordan can be traced back to the late Ottoman era. Important features of Jordanian society and politics, attributed to the mandate period and Hashemite rule, were first introduced in this era. The last decades of Ottoman rule witnessed intense state involvement in efforts to make parts of Jordan amenable to direct state rule.37 In so doing, the early forms of the modern state were transferred by Ottoman reformist elite. These forms were not unlike the earliest injection of the Western model in the second half of the nineteenth century.38 The Ottoman legacy in Jordan was important to the extent that the new nation-state continued to use Ottoman legal codes until the late 1940s. For example, the first codified Ottoman family law enacted in 1917 remained in use in Jordan until 1947.39 The Ottoman “Modern” State on the Periphery When the Ottomans started losing important lands in the Balkans, the Empire came to be largely populated by Arabs; hence, the consolidation and extension of strong and central rule in Arab lands became essential. Also, the financial crises the Empire was experiencing in its various dominions necessitated detailed economic reform programs.40 The Ottomans therefore attempted several structural reforms. In the early nineteenth century, the Ottoman system had no notion of well-defined regional units. As an administrative reform strategy, professional bureaucrats were sent to remote parts of the Empire.41 A new land-tenure system was also implemented. This was expected to help the state both in generating tax revenue and increasing state

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control. And, since improvement of all aspects of communication and transportation was essential to reorganize regional markets and politics, the local Ottoman rulers, despite lean economic conditions, tried to enhance communication and transportation facilities. Certainly, these steps symbolized a transition from the traditional medieval rule to a new modern/centralist one. As a result, the Ottoman legacy of “stateness” was the historical root of the modern state in Jordan: In Jordan, the experience of Ottoman rule left those districts amenable to centralized governments—an Ottoman legacy of “stateness” which was to be the inheritance of the British Mandate and the Hashemite state in Jordan.42

On a much broader historical perspective, classic Ottoman rule was reaffirmed with an annual visit by tax collectors, leaving matters of land and security to the more powerful tribes in the plains and to village notables (za’ims) in the hill districts.43 Accordingly, “. . . the Ottomans left the region to its local rulers, for the better part of two centuries to rule by proxy degenerating into out and local rule.”44 Therefore, the two primary characteristics of local government in the 1800s were diversity and minimalism. It was an armed bazaar in which a variety of groups bargained with one another, reinforcing their bids with force or the threat of force in the medieval manner.45 The Ottoman government in Arab provinces was primarily concerned with the task of maintaining military preparedness, preserving urban and rural security, and raising revenue.46 To carry out these tasks, either a small contingent of trained people was sent regularly to the regions, or the services of local chieftains and sheiks were utilized. But this situation changed with the Vilayet Law of 1864. The law provided a standard framework for provincial administration to be applied across the Empire. According to the new law, the Ottomans aimed to create new administrative units to vitalize the paper structures of earlier decades.47 The Vilayet law was an important step toward modern statehood, for it established a modern hierarchy of rule. The Empire was divided into provinces ruled by a governor. Each province was divided into subprovinces with names such as sancak, which was a unit governed by a mutasarrif. Each sancak was composed of a number of kazas, or judicial districts, governed by a kaymakam. A kaza might include a number of nahiyes, the smallest unit of administration. Consequently, this hierarchy of rule affected all Ottoman lands. A chain of authority spread across the empire. Each ruler of every unit was answerable to his superior in the chain. The law was also functional in terms of bringing the state to the periphery by expanding the scope of central rule to all parts of the Empire.48 Eventually, the new chain of authority put all rulers under the central control of Istanbul. The basic aim of the new vilayet (province) law was to create an enduring Ottoman presence through the formation of new administrative units. Within the context of the Vilayet Law of 1864, an extensive reform program was first launched in Ajlun. The government tried to assure agricultural

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production and the collection of tax revenues.49 Therefore, the reform introduced new taxation and administration codes. Also, Istanbul started sending out regular governors. In 1868, similar reforms were launched in Ma’an. As expected, the imposition of a central taxation and administrative system challenged the traditional tribal taxation system. Therefore, several tribal and local protests arose in the 1860s, bent on restoring the former tribal political and economic system. These reactions worked against the homogenizing and disciplining reforms, since the new centralist model was weakening the historically autonomous conditions of these groups. Faced with such reactions, the subjugation of the Bedouin tribes by Ottoman rule became the top priority of regional rulers. Consequently, over the course of a half-century, the Ottomans established permanent administrative and military missions in Jordan that stretched from Ajlun to al-Aqaba. The consolidation of the new administration system was partially accompanied by related infrastructural reforms in other fields. The Ottoman rulers also constructed new offices and residences for their rulers, which the central government assigned to them in the newly created administrative units. Undoubtedly, the construction of such physical spaces helped the local people internalize the concept of “central power.” Such buildings quickly became the concrete symbols of newly introduced phenomena such as central rule and regular taxation. As the aim of Ottoman modernization was consolidation of a strong central authority, the rulers were aware of the importance of land registration. Traditional forms in no way permitted the Ottoman officials to achieve their goals in peripheral lands, for the traditional land regime was governed in the medieval manner by overlapping authorities. Given the tribal and “feudal” nature of traditional forms of land tenure, it was impossible to expect successful consolidation of state power in local areas. The rulers therefore introduced land registration in 1876. With this, each newly created village had an official deed of title in which all kinds of rights to specific properties of specific individuals were listed. The registration also noted those who were responsible for paying the taxes for the land.50 However, the notables in Jordan, as they had in Iraq, manipulated the registration process in many places in order to seize the lands of poor peasants.51 Regardless of the many related problems, the earliest legal form of land ownership similar to the Western notion of property was established. Also, in this process a large group of local people was invited to cooperate. In this way, the Ottoman rulers aimed to decrease the leverage of traditional notables. As a radical policy, instead of consulting only the notables, the officials preferred to consult the members of councils of elders (village councils) in each village.52 In doing so, the land reform program tried to abolish the economic basis of the prevailing tribal/medieval forms of authority in related lands. Undoubtedly, this was not a very easy process. The biggest problem in the land registration process was the changing nature of land ownership: The traditional land tenure system (musha’) had a very long provenance. Local

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people who had been satisfied with premodern forms of land tenure were understandably against the new registration method. It should also be borne in mind that the social and economic role of the musha’ (literally “collective ownership”) had worked as the vital mechanism of tribal solidarity.53 Another important step in the consolidation of central rule were the communication/transportation reforms carried out by the Ottoman governors. A good network of communication and transportation was needed if effective central bureaucracy was to be established. It was needed also for keeping tabs on taxpayers and for access to markets. To this end, new roads were built between important centers. Several new roads were constructed between Jerusalem and other important centers, and the Ottoman rulers stationed regular troops to patrol crucial trade points around the country. Ferries were brought to sail the Jordan River, and new boats provided local and regional transportation on the Dead Sea. Railways linked important cities. By expanding the telegraph system, the central government gained direct access to its outermost territories.54 Certainly, the infrastructural revolution quickly changed economic and social conditions. All actors in the country had the opportunity of exchanging their products through the newly established networks. A domestic market emerged. Cultivators took to exporting their most important staple, grain. Jordan had been opened to regional markets. In turn, a nascent domestic market also contributed to the emergence of a regional/“Jordanian” consciousness on the basis of a proto-national economy. However, the modernization policies came to a standstill after the Young Turk Revolution of 1908. Abdulhamid’s chief goal was to maintain the territorial integrity of the empire. To achieve it, he tried to use religion and Islam as instruments to create a new Muslim nation in the modern sense of the word.55 This was an early and strange combination of modernity and Islam. Abdulhamid’s official ideology extended to all state-operated units. In parallel with this policy, the Hamidian-era schools, for example, were organized “. . . as an institutional tool of social disciplining and modernization.”56 The Ottoman monarchy was plying parallel policies in other fields too. But the rise of the Young Turks interrupted this process. Despite the Young Turks’ official declarations that claimed to consider Arabs as equal members of the Empire, they were extremely anti-Arabist. They denigrated Arabs as separatists in secret in their correspondences.57 As was to be expected, the Young Turk Revolution was understood, especially in Arab lands, as a Turkish nationalist agenda. Finally, a revolt erupted in Jordan in 1910, which betrayed the limitations of Ottoman rule. Along with political turmoil, the financial constraints of the Empire also prevented the full success of a functioning and centralist rule all over the state. Despite its shortages, the Ottoman legacy of modernstate formation was important, particularly for having introduced early examples of Western central institutions and practices. Also, it was in this era that the first reactions to the centralist administration emerged. But it should be remembered that the reform program was result of Ottoman needs. Thus,

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unlike that of the British era, the Ottomans’ aims were not a concerted effort to consolidate an independent Jordanian identity. The decline of Ottoman power led to an increase in the interest of the Great Powers in the region. In fact, Britain had been an important Western power in the region for a long time, and its presence had influenced local politics and diplomatic balance. Gradually, Britain became the dominant actor behind significant developments that took place in Arab provinces, particularly during the last decades of the Empire. But another very important problem in the Ottoman system was that it had amplified Arab nationalism. The idea of a united Arab state became the ideal of Arab nationalists in the late years of the nineteenth century. Though they differed in method and principles, their common Arabist values united them.58 It was in this context that Jordan the modern territorial state, with its international boundaries and political regime, came into being. Britain Takes Over Jordan came into existence in 1921 by dint of not much more than a bargain between Abdullah I and Britain.59 Abdullah visited Cairo in February 1914 and met senior British officials. His aim was to secure British support in event of a revolt against the Turks. As the British position toward the Ottoman Empire was not clear, their reply was suitably vague. After the Ottoman Empire aligned with German forces against Britain and its allies in World War I, the British position was quickly updated. The British prime minister’s comment on the Ottoman–German rapprochement was telling: “The Ottoman Empire has committed suicide.”60 This time, Britain was to seek Arab support against the Ottomans. It was in this context that the famous Hussein–McMahon Correspondence took place. In his letter of July 1915, Hussein plainly asked for British support for a new united Arab state. McMahon’s reply contained a clear offer of British support. But, though it was courting Arab support against the Ottomans, the British discourse remained diplomatic in its studied refusal to incite resentment against them. Accordingly, McMahon committed to supporting independence only in the areas Hussein had outlined.61 Hussein launched the Arab Revolt against the Ottoman Empire in June 1916. British financial and militarily support was directed to the Arabs during the Revolt. But the British officials were also in secret contact with other Western powers. These secret meetings yielded the Sykes–Picot Agreement, signed in February 1916, in which Britain became party to a plan to partition the Middle East into French and British spheres of influence, which was at odds with the thrust of the Hussein–McMahon correspondence. Under the Sykes–Picot Agreement, Palestine was to be administered by an international condominium of the British and French, whereas Transjordan would come under British influence. The British side was aware of the importance of Palestine, in view of its proximity to the Suez Canal. Therefore, despite British commitments in the Sykes–Picot

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Agreement, Britain was determined that Palestine should come under its control. The final phase of the war in the region took place in 1917 and 1918. The Ottoman armies were defeated in several battles by a loose coalition of Arab and British troops. Between January 1919 and January 1920, the Allied Powers met in Paris to negotiate peace treaties with the Central Powers. Emir Faisal represented the Arabs. Further important negotiations took place in April at a meeting of the Allies in San Remo. Here, Palestine was awarded to Britain as a mandate. Not surprisingly, Hussein and his sons opposed the mandate’s terms. In 1920, Faisal briefly became the king of Syria. Meanwhile, Abdullah was given the crown of Iraq. Faisal ruled Jordan during 1917–1918. His Northern Arab Army operated there during this period. Technically speaking, Transjordan had been awarded to Britain in the Sykes–Picot Agreement. However, the collapse of Faisal’s rule in Syria in 1920 raised the question of what should be the future of Transjordan. There were two options: either it would be attached to Palestine or left independent. The British government sent many officials to the region to establish a civil rule in the area. In August 1920, several civil units were established, along with a small gendarmerie. The problem this time was Abdullah and his several hundred men. Abdullah’s aim was to help the Arab people in Damascus fend off French rule. France immediately asked Britain to rein him in. Britain, however, saw the situation as advantageous. To divert Abdullah from his plan, Churchill offered him an emirate over Transjordan under British protection. He promised also to use his power to persuade the French to reinstate the kingdom of Damascus with Abdullah as its head.62 Shortly afterward, the League of Nations awarded Britain mandates over Transjordan, Palestine, and Iraq. In March 1921, Winston Churchill convened an international conference in Cairo to consider Middle East policy. As a result of the Cairo negotiations, Britain marked the Palestine mandate line along the Jordan River–Gulf of Aqaba. The eastern part, called Transjordan, was to have a separate Arab administration operating under the general supervision of the commissioner for Palestine. Abdullah became the ruler of this eastern part. At a follow-up meeting in Jerusalem with Churchill, Abdullah agreed to abandon his Syrian project in return for the Emirate. The Cairo Conference then decided to separate Transjordan from Palestine. Faced with the determination of Emir Abdullah to unify Arab lands under the Hashemite banner, the British proclaimed Abdullah ruler of the three districts, known collectively as Transjordan. Confident that his plans for the unity of the Arab nation would eventually come to fulfillment, the emir established the first centralized governmental system in what is now modern Jordan on April 11, 1921. However, with a colonially injected political regime and colonially demarcated international boundaries, Jordan was an artificial creation. This piece of land dominated by overlapping tribes was turned into a Western-like modern state by the mandate regime. Despite the official format, it was still

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“. . . a political anomaly and a geographical nonsense.”63 For example, no social and political developments such as a nationalist movement preceded the creation of modern Jordan.64 Before 1921, the land that is today known as Jordan had no appearance of a state: With a tiny, primarily rural and tribal population, no urban center to speak of, and scarcely any resources—natural or otherwise—this dusty backwater did not appear to have much of a future.65

Even Emir Abdullah himself was not sure of Jordan’s future, as evidenced by the different names he gave it in the early years. Moreover, external powers such as Iraq and Saudi Arabia continued to have geographical and political ambitions regarding this nascent state. Also, many local people found the separation of Jordan from Palestine unacceptable. Thus, Muslim–Arab discontent shrouded the idea of Jordan. With such obstacles, neither Jordan nor her rulers in its formative years would have survived without Britain. Therefore, the raison d’être for its independence was Britain interest. In the words of Mary Wilson: It [Jordan] had a population of only some 230, 000, no real city, no natural resources, and no importance to trade except as a desert thoroughfare. In short, it had no reason to be a state on its own rather than a part of Syria, or of Palestine, or of Saudi Arabia, or of Iraq, except that it better served Britain’s interest to be so.66

Having created the artificial framework of modern Jordan, Britain quickly launched a detailed agenda to consolidate the tiny country’s modern statehood. At the beginning, the political system was based on a series of alliances among the Hashemite family, tribal leaders, and expatriate elite, and was sustained by British annual subsidy.67 In 1923, a formal Anglo-Transjordan agreement was signed, which established a framework for the mandate system that was imposed in the years following the War. On May 26, 1923, the Emirate of Transjordan became an autonomous state under British mandate. In 1928, a treaty was signed between Transjordan and Britain, which recognized Transjordan’s independence but left financial control and the conduct of foreign relations in British hands.68 According to the treaty, Transjordan was to be prepared for independence under the supervision of Britain, and Emir Abdullah would become the head of state. In May 1925, the Aqaba and Ma’an districts of the Hijaz became part of Transjordan. The next period was one of consolidation and institutionalization. Abdullah first sought to build political unity by welding the disparate Bedouin tribes into a cohesive group capable of maintaining Arab rule. His purpose was to create a national identity among the contending tribal groups. Abdullah realized that to achieve this he would need a force capable of establishing and protecting the integrity of the state. With the assistance of British officers he set up the Arab Legion to act as a cornerstone of the

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nascent state. This new national army was used to consolidate national identity.69 Although the Arab Legion provided Abdullah with the means of enforcing the authority of the state throughout Transjordan, he realized that true stability could come only through state institutions that anchor legitimacy in representative government. Thus, in April 1928 he promulgated a constitution, which provided for a parliament. Elections were held in February 1929, bringing to power the first Legislative Council. Britain and State Formation in Jordan British administrative reform made the creation of a central authority its first objective. The requisite infrastructural reform, in their view, entailed the creation of political-administrative, military, and judicial institutions. The mandate regime thus reorganized the political geography such that the power of Amman was extended across a territory circumscribed by international boundaries. The reordering of political space that divided Jordan into several administrative units resulted in a manageable constituency.70 On the other hand, the mandate regime attempted to abolish the most important historical basis of the traditional form of authorities by implementing land reform. The land reform’s aims were essentially fiscal and administrative: to boost both agricultural production and tax revenues and to consolidate central rule. To achieve this, the British decided to change the system of land tenure and the Ottoman model they had inherited.71 The aim of the program was to enforce the British concept of law and private property in Jordan, and to reduce, or even eradicate, the socially habituated indigenous approaches to land ownership.72 According to mandate officials, the musha’ system constituted a serious obstacle to development. The result was the end of corporate social control over land ownership and the beginning of the state’s massive intervention in the minutest details of tenure. Under the traditional musha’ system, cultivators held land shares in village-owned collectives. They were not individual owners of specific plots of land. Each cultivator was periodically assigned several plots of land to farm, in accordance with the number of shares that the cultivator owned. During the next rotation period these plots would be reassigned to another cultivator.73 Dowson, a colonial officer, was invited to prepare a report on land reform in 1925. He quickly established a Department of Land Registration briefed to survey land, subdivide the collectively owned village lands (musha’), register the new owners of the subdivided plots, and estimate the tax burden to be levied on them. Thus, the most important part of the Dowson plan was the breaking up of the musha’ such that each of its share holders would become the individual owner of a plot of land. This plan was, of course, purely pragmatic only in appearance. Otherwise, it had an ideological mission: to inject the traditional land tenure system with the concept of private ownership.

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The Dawson plan called also for immediate reform of the land taxation system. The colonial officials concluded that the traditional Ottoman system was malfunctioning: The latter conferred no security of title, and inhibited efficient agricultural investment. The land reform program had its genesis in the first fiscal survey of the country. This survey was the most thorough mapping campaign ever carried out in Transjordan. It laid the first plank by surveying all agricultural land in Transjordan and assigning it a value for taxation purposes. Thus land reform was also the first attempt to implement a unified tax system.74 As expected, tribal groups did not welcome the new land tenure system, and hostile reactions to it continued in different forms until the late 1930s.75 The land reform program was an integral part of modern-state formation. Since it meant the reorganization of national space according to what the new central administration considered appropriate, it contributed to the emergence of national consciousness.76 The plan attempted to abolish existing traditional models. It transformed the state’s relationship with the cultivators, and in so doing made significant progress in the effort to secure the political base of the new country. Having enforced the private ownership of land as the only mode of land tenure, the plan constructed the means of state involvement in land affairs. The most ambitious part of the plan was land settlement, the most significant and intrusive state policy ever deployed in Transjordan. It severely tested the leverage and capacity of the newly established political entity to implement a truly countrywide plan. The land reform program was the public face of new developments in the land. Iron rods driven into the ground to purposively mark out where livelihood might be earned was a compelling summary for ordinary people of the new epistemic principles of the modern state. Tethering the Bedouin The creation of modern authority was hindered also by the tribal problem. The expansion of the central government’s authority to Bedouin lands was another colonial contribution to state formation. Nomadic Bedouin constituted almost half of the population in 1922. Amman’s authority made very little impression on the rural periphery. It therefore became a main objective of British policy to extend the government’s authority to the remotest parts of Jordan, including Bedouin zones. This nomadic people’s mode of production was a self-sufficient, self-perpetuating form of economic appropriation that required geographic mobility and group elasticity and autonomy. This model was enhanced with elastic kinship structures and decentralized authority structures. Obviously, this nomadic methodology was unacceptable in the nascent nation-state epistemology. Thus, during the early 1920s, new sets of laws were enacted for the Bedouin. A new commission was established to oversee them, and to conduct a full surveillance of their movements. The basic aim of British rule was to control these people without fear of interference from tribal chiefs.

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The mandate administrators assigned the task of integrating the Bedouin in the nation-state to John Bagot Glubb in 1930. In a very short period, the forts and patrols of Glubb’s desert police eliminated raiding and brought a degree of authority the tribes had not known since Umayyad times.77 However, a Bedouin uprising challenged Glubb’s policies of centralization. As expected, the Bedouin were not ready for central rule. Glubb then changed his tactic and attempted to neutralize the political and economic conditions that fueled the Bedouins’ lawless movements. Glubb preferred a politics-first agenda to any routine resort to force. This “humane imperialism” in the desert steppes was the root of his success. Glubb’s style of imperialism had as its main principles “. . . a humane and sympathetic approach to tribal complaints, the provision of employment, subsidies to tribal sheiks, and the application of tribal law wherever possible.”78 His main strategy was to address the causes of Bedouin unrest. To this end he arranged a system of subsidies that the mandate power distributed according to Bedouin tribal principles. Also, the mandate created several employment opportunities for the Bedouin. These efforts contributed to the establishment of desert control. The consolidation of a new domestic market in Jordan had the simultaneous effect of paralyzing the traditional rural way of life. New roads and facilities posed great problems for the Bedouin. In short, the traditional logic of the desert was disappearing. Thus, the Bedouin were forced into a different lifestyle, for the desert was no longer capable of sustaining their age-old one. Their only option was to give up desert life and become land cultivators. The enclosure of the Bedouin within the physical limits of the nationstate was the easier feat, achieved readily enough by central government power. Their inclusion in the epistemological sphere of the nation-state promised to be difficult task. In no tribal or nomadic tradition are there epistemological forms that resemble those of the nation-state. Thus, Jordanian politics has always to contend with the tribal question. Though the total inclusion of the Bedouin in the “world of the nation-state” was technically achieved in 1976, and a law canceling all previous tribal laws, including the Law of Supervising the Bedouin, was enacted in that year, the Bedouin issue has continued to dog Jordanian politics. The epistemological clash between the modern and tribal mind-set was to become an important characteristic of the new political configuration. Another very important step in the construction of the national space was investment in the region’s infrastructure. In the Weberian rational system, a modern state should have ultimate control of all power in its territory. In keeping with this principle, the new modern state of Jordan launched several projects to enhance and extend its control of all parts of its national territory. The colonial rule sought to increase its leverage in all parts of Jordan through communication projects. As no central authority could have been established with the traditional infrastructure, its modernization by way of transport and communications facilities was a crucial element in the development of efficient central rule. Therefore, mandate officials invested in the new

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technologies of communication and transportation. The greater part of the British grant was spent on strategic road building.79 Mandate regime administrators were therefore well able to construct new roads around Jordan. These new roads allayed both security and economic concerns, and gave opportunities to merchants in local and regional contexts, just as the central government took command of the territory.80 It was also another priority of the mandate regime to unify all types of standards. Especially for the nascent state, uniformity and homogeneity in certain fields were vital. Thus, as they had done with regard to land registration, the British aimed for similar homogenization of the economy. To achieve this, the British government established the Palestinian pound as the single legal currency, to replace other currencies in existence at the time, such as the Ottoman pound, the Ottoman mejidi, the French franc, the Egyptian pound, and the English pound.81 It was a very important step in creating a truly domestic market. Mandate administrators unified all weights and measures too. These homogenizing policies encouraged the development of financial networks. Many public services, such as education and health, were also subjected to standardization. Certainly, all these colonial reforms and policies created the new man of the times, the homo nationalis. Therefore, the modern concept of nation in Jordan is the “colonial fruit” of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. In order to consolidate this new model, Jordan, like other newly created states, struggled to create new myths of origin and other historical narratives to justify this unfamiliar entity to their “citizens.”82 With the Nationality Law of 1928, the ideas of “the Jordanian man” (citizen) and “national space” were defined. Determining the answer to “Who is Jordanian?” was also an official enterprise, as such a people had not existed before the official declaration of their existence. Therefore, the Jordanian nation was produced through a new legal discourse instituted in 1928. With the help of new juridical epistemology (i.e., “Jordan is different from the rest of the Arab lands” line), colonial social engineering had reached its zenith. The nationality laws of Jordan derived from the laws of European nations. Almost everything that came to constitute juridical Jordanian national subjectivity was lifted verbatim from Britain laws.83 The British mandate administrators enhanced the diplomatic and political competence of Jordan. In 1934 a new agreement with Britain allowed Abdullah to set up consular representation in Arab countries. In 1939, the first council of ministers was formed. These two developments were significant in creating Western-type modern statehood in Jordan. While Britain retained a degree of control over foreign affairs, the armed forces, communications, and state finances, Abdullah commanded the administrative and military machinery of the regular government. In sharp contrast to the previous medieval, overlapping authorities, a central authority had been established in Jordan. Finally, on March 22, 1946, Abdullah negotiated a new Anglo-Transjordanian treaty, ending the British mandate and gaining full independence for Transjordan. Two months later, on May 25, 1946, the

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Transjordanian parliament proclaimed Abdullah as king. In March 1946, Transjordan and Britain concluded the Treaty of London, which was another major step taken toward full sovereignty. Transjordan was proclaimed a kingdom, and a new constitution replaced the obsolete 1928 Organic Law. A further treaty with Britain was signed in March 1948, under which all restrictions on sovereignty were removed, although a limited British base and transit rights were retained, as was the British subsidy that paid for the Arab Legion. In Jordan, with the help of the British, the Hashemite rule was relatively successful in uniting the country both demographically and territorially. A land in which different overlapping authorities and identities had survived was reorganized according to the Western model. The modernization that had its inception in the late Ottoman era culminated with a colonially created Western-type territorial state. Jordan entered the international system of independent states as a sovereign and equal member in 1948.

Iraq: The Daring Project of Colonialism Ottoman Iraq During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Iraq was incorporated into the Ottoman Empire. Though some Arab lands had been part of the Empire for many centuries, Istanbul’s authority in them was in various ways limited. Despite the formal Ottoman rule, local networks had kept their importance. Thus eighteenth-century Iraq is depicted more or less as a loosely related collection of plural, relatively isolated, and autonomous city-states and tribal confederations.84 Ottoman rule had not, until the late nineteenth century, demanded more of the region than a symbolic recognition of Istanbul’s supremacy.85 It is therefore the rise of Ottoman power in the early nineteenth century that informs an understanding of modern Iraq: the Ottoman modernization agendas of the nineteenth century transferred many forms of modern statehood to the region. Istanbul decided to extend its centralist reforms to the Arab provinces, particularly to Baghdad. Several threats, such as the rise of some European powers and Egyptian power, made the Ottomans unhappy about the situation in the region. In order to declare their firmness, the Ottomans sent an army to the Mamluk governor of Baghdad to capture the city. The arrival of a new Ottoman governor in Baghdad in 1831–1832 signaled the end of the Mamluk period and the beginning of a new era in Iraq. The Mamluk rulers had ruled the Arab provinces since the beginning of the eighteenth century. Though they had recognized the Sultan’s sovereignty, their rule established different coalitions with local and tribal leaders, at least until direct rule was gradually imposed on the region. The Ottoman rulers then rapidly introduced important reform programs directed at landholding, compulsory conscription, administration, law, and education.

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Most reforms in the region were carried out along the provisions of two important regulations: the Land Law of 1858 and the Vilayet Law of 1864.86 The new land code increased state revenues by introducing new land tenure regulations. The Vilayet law introduced new administrative demarcations by reorganizing the form of authority between the state and the people. It established new modes of relations between Istanbul and the periphery as well. But it was particularly the reign of Midhat Pasha as governor in Baghdad that energized the reformist agenda. Ottoman rule there had been unstable (Baghdad had had more than ten governors between 1831 and 1869), and was reasserted only when the reformminded Midhat Pasha was appointed governor of Baghdad. Immediately on his appointment, Midhat Pasha adopted a general strategy of modernizing Iraq in order to create a manageable entity. His reforms fell into three general areas: administrative reform, settlement of the tribes, and educational reform. Also, he attempted to establish a regular system of land tenure with legally confirmed rights of ownership.87 In general, Midhat developed grant strategies in all fields of political and social life. The primary objectives of his reforms were to reorganize the army, create criminal and commercial codes of law, secularize the school system, and improve provincial administration. He therefore introduced a new centralized administrative system in the Iraqi provinces and extended it to the countryside. These reforms meant expansion of the state bureaucracy and an attempt to control aspects of daily life that had previously been considered to be beyond the state’s authority.88 Midhat Pasha was eager to implement both the Vilayet Law and the Land Law. He first mapped out the territorial boundaries of all provinces and established a new structure of administration that reached from the province level down to village level. The aim was to systematically bring the central administration down to people who had thus far been barely touched by the apparatus of the state.89 Another important outcome of Midhat Pasha’s rule was the setting up of village councils that were open to both Muslim and non-Muslim people. With these councils, he aimed to incorporate ordinary people in the administrative process. Meanwhile, as a result of the centralization agenda, a systematic conscription was for the first time extended to the various parts of Iraq. Perhaps the most fundamental changes resulted from Midhat’s attempt to apply the Ottoman Land Law of 1858, which aimed to classify and regularize land tenure by registering land titles to individuals who would be responsible for paying the applicable taxes. This law was also important for the extension of central authority over the component parts of Midhat’s jurisdiction.90 The Ottoman reform of the land-tenure system introduced several new practices. To begin with, landholders were given their first official papers (the tapu). As land was the main factor in economic production, the institutionalization of the tapu system produced important changes in economic and social relations. Though the tapu system did not change the state’s position as the main possessor of lands, the tapu holders were now able to enjoy virtually complete rights of ownership.91

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Since the new system prohibited the collective registration of land, registration was possible only in the name of an individual. Paradoxically, this produced unexpected gains for the local notables. In traditional practice, it was often the name of the sheikh, or of the ranking person in the collective, that was inscribed on the title deed. In the traditional land tenure system, many poor cultivators of land had depended on customary law for the recognition of their rights. They were afraid of losing the rights that had accrued to them customarily. And indeed, there were reports that poor peasants were being forced to transfer their usufruct rights to local notables.92 But, in spite of such negative outcomes, land reforms consolidated the link between the state and the owners of land. Land was allocated and reorganized in a different epistemic category in the name of state. As it was the official tapu that was the basis of their economic power, the new official landowner class became a natural ally of the central government. Moreover, this new link increased the state revenues as the tapu system gave way to a primitive socialization of the tax system: Rather than avoid taxation through violent resistance, they came to see that is was more fruitful to engage with the administrative personnel and offices of the state to ensure reduced tax demands or indeed exemptions.93

The reform agenda also introduced important economic and cultural reforms. It was during this era that the first newspaper appeared: Al-Zawra was published in 1869. Midhat’s reforms had created new educational infrastructure. He laid the groundwork for a secular system of education in Iraq, clearly wishing to see it replace the clerically run Islamic schools. As part of this program, new schools were opened that were free to everyone. In these schools, children from all levels of Iraqi society had the opportunity of a public education. The graduates of those schools were the kernel of the new Iraqi intelligentsia. Notably, these were the schools that taught Western languages and discussed Western culture. Midhat’s reforms were not limited to education and land tenure. A modern telegraphy system was introduced in the 1860s. Several new factories were built around Baghdad that practiced new approaches to labor. Linking important cities by means of communication technology was another priority. There is no denying the fact that Midhat had tried to reorganize public space by modernizing it. Though not on the same level, Midhat’s reforms were continued by succeeding governors: Mehmed Reshid Pasha and Namik Pasha. Ottoman reforms had brought to Iraq unprecedented state authority that made itself felt at all levels of life. The reforms launched with the Tanzimat transformed the Iraqi economy. Early versions of the capitalist modes of production and marketing also arrived in that era. They gave Iraq’s nascent economy the means of connecting with the world capitalist market. Also, the reform programs succeeded to bring the diverse political units of the land under the direct and intensive control of governors, which was certainly

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a central control. Modern statehood had therefore appeared at least in seminal form. No doubt, the rise of state power to that level of strength created social resistance. By establishing government agencies in the cities and by attempting to settle the tribes, the Ottoman reforms altered the tribal–urban balance of power, which since the thirteenth century had worked largely in favor of the tribes. The expansion of state power naturally restrained the leverage of tribal and religious actors. Therefore several tribal rebellions took place in different regions. However, it was the political and economic problems of the Empire that were chiefly responsible for the setback to the reform program in Iraq. The Ottoman Empire’s financial crisis caused the reformist programs to slowly grind to a halt. Conflict among Ottoman administrative elite over methods of reform was also a negative influence. Most destructively, the Young Turks aggressively pursued a Turkification policy that alienated the nascent Iraqi intelligentsia and set in motion a fledgling Arab nationalist movement. Encouraged by the Young Turk Revolution of 1908, nationalists in Iraq stepped up their political activity. The spread of Turkish nationalism also stirred young Iraqis to question their own identity.94 Thus, the split in the Ottoman elite inspired the evolution of Arab political thought: groups with different ideas emerged and jockeyed for political ascendancy. In parallel with the split in Istanbul, the Arabs were also divided among themselves. But the rising trend was decentralization in Arab provinces. The Rise of a Direct Western Influence Western influence was already making itself felt in the region, not least in Iraq. This process was accelerated by the introduction of Western disciplines into schools, which accompanied a greater Western political and economic presence. In 1802, the British had established a consulate in Baghdad. Soon after, the French opened their consulate. The Ottoman reforms were important and ready facilitators of Western economic policies in the region. By 1836, steamboats were plying the rivers. The first telegraph network was in place by 1861. The Suez Canal was finished in 1869. All such developments significantly helped Iraq connect with Western economies. In fact, British forces were the dominant ones in the region. Since 1839, Aden had been under Britain’s control. The position was similar in the Persian Gulf, where British forces had been dominant since 1820. Kuwait, a land that had long been part of the Trucial System, became independent under British protection in 1914. The British protection was extended to Egypt in 1914. Britain was dominant also in places such as Sudan and Libya. British hegemony, what is more, was not limited to agreements arrived at with the ruling elite of the region; tribal leaders in the remotest corners of the region such as Hejaz were sometimes parties to such agreements. As was the case in Jordan, the creation of Iraq in the form of a Western territorial state was the outcome of power politics between the declining

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Ottoman Empire and Great Britain; however, it was British power that created the modern state in Iraq between 1914 and 1932.95 Like many other local actors, the nascent domestic actors tried to secure their position by courting British protection against the Ottomans. Abdullah, the son of Sharif Hussein, lobbied the British authorities for protection in the event of an Ottoman attack on his father’s forces in 1914. Though the British officials made no firm commitment, they left the door ajar. The British authorities were certainly aware of the problems between Sharif and Istanbul. Also, the traditional British policy toward the Ottomans was changing. Britain had for a while backed the Ottoman Empire against other big powers such as Russia. But after the rise of Gladstone, this traditional policy was all but reversed.96 Kitchener persuaded the British government to prepare alternative plans for the Ottomans, especially in the Middle East. He sent special envoys to Sharif in order to consolidate the tacit agreement with him. The main aim was to secure Sharif Hussein’s support. Each side was in need of the other’s force. In fact, the new British policy toward the Ottomans was not surprising, as many of the geopolitical pieces were already in place to accommodate it. Throughout World War I Britain was the only controlling power in the region. Such a dominating role facilitated the British position against Ottoman rule. The Arab revolt, for example, organized around Sharif Hussein, had provided military support to General Allenby’s successful campaign against the Ottomans in Palestine and Syria. In 1914, when the British understood that Turkey was entering the War on the side of the Germans, British forces moved rapidly toward Basra. The pretext was to end the pro-Ottoman uprising in the Muslim territories stretching from the Persian Gulf all the way to India.97 By the fall of 1915, British forces were the major actors in the south, although their attempt to occupy Baghdad had failed. But by March 1917 the British had captured Baghdad. Advancing northward in early 1918, the British forces next captured Mosul. In a short period, British control was asserted over all of Iraq, but for a few small pockets of resistance. These British military actions laid the foundations for the establishment of the state of Iraq, and it is from this period that the history of that state begins.98 During the War, the events in Iraq were by and large influenced by the Hashemite family. Hussein, aiming to become the king, snubbed the Ottomans and then approached the British. The British were able to jolly him along with several political inducements that were nevertheless short of promises. In consequence it was the Husseini family that led the 1916 Revolt. In 1919, Hussein sent his son Faisal to Paris to harvest whatever fruits might have accrued to the family for its struggle against Istanbul. But the issue of Arab independence was not engaging the Western powers. Despite Hussein’s demand of full independence, the Paris Conference, referring to the Article 22 of the League of Nations Covenant, declared Iraq a British mandate. The entrustment was ratified on April 25, 1920, at the San Remo Conference.99 As a symbol of its mandate, a British high

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commissioner was appointed to head the civil government of post–World War I Iraq. The mandate had complex problems to solve, the thorniest of them being the tension between tribal groups and city dwellers. Different groups, such as the merchants, demanded that the new mandate power should guarantee their interests by creating an efficient state apparatus through certain administrative reforms. Tribal groups also expected solutions to their serious economic problems. Faced with these complex issues, Britain had to decide on the kind of colonial rule it would impose on Iraq. Eventually, it was the Arab Revolt that determined the form of British rule. The difficulty in quelling the Arab Revolt and the high number of casualties the British sustained in the effort persuaded the British officials to think of a novel mode of governing Iraq. Along with social unrest about the British mandate, there was the rise of Arab nationalism, tribal sheiks’ ambitious projects, and social discontent triggered by new taxation policies. Iraq was in state of revolution during July, August, and September 1920, provoked by the severe shortcomings of what was commonly understood to be British occupation.100 It should be noted that the tribal conflicts continued during the Revolt. But despite the conflicts among local leaders, the Revolt was the root of antiBritish Arab nationalism. It became a foundational myth.101 Having experienced the Arab Revolt, the British rule realized the need to consolidate its presence in Iraq on the basis of an Arabist policy.102 Britain understood once again that the tribal structure was still dominant in Iraq. This led the British to conclude that a loose colonial rule would be suitable for Iraq, and the least likely to provoke new revolts. This decision guaranteed British interests and dispensed with the costly burden of attempting to govern the volatile population directly. The solution was in dealing with Iraq on a treaty basis, and in reducing expenses by placing as much responsibility in the hands of the Iraqi government as an imperial power could dare.103 Appointing a loyal leader in Iraq, as British officials had succeeded in doing in Jordan with their elevation of Abdullah, was crucial. They chose Emir Faisal, the son of Sharif Hussein. Faisal was put forward at the Cairo Conference of 1920 as the person most suitable for the new role of king of Iraq. Emir Faisal became the first king of Iraq in 1921. The British also sided with the more educated Sunni group to consolidate their indirect rule.104 The Organic Law of 1925 defined Iraq as a hereditary constitutional monarchy with an elected bicameral legislature. According to the law, Islam was the state religion, so the religious courts retained their position. Other important institutions were established, including the national army, in 1921. All such new institutions were the direct outcome of British projects. Despite their apparently indigenous names, these institutions were the simulacra of Western institutions. Neither a hereditary monarchy nor the recognition of Islam as “the state religion” were based on local or regional traditions. Not surprisingly, the British-imposed monarchy suffered from a

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chronic legitimacy crisis from the outset: the monarchy concept was alien in this country. People saw “their” monarch as a British creation.105 There were several other official milestones in Anglo-Iraqi relations. The first treaty was signed in 1922. This treaty acquiesced to the British presence in Iraq. The following treaty, signed in 1924, was an important step that changed the cover of the mandate’s form. In general, the British sought military and administrative control in Iraq.106 Treaties gave Britain maximum freedom to maneuver on Iraqi territory, which included the freedom to construct all types of military installations, including railways. Most important was British control at the administrative level: British advisers were assigned to government ministers with key portfolios. Consequently, several important administrative units, such as irrigation, public works, police, and land registry came under direct British supervision. The Colonial Agenda After legalizing their colonial status in Iraq through treaties, which was an important part of the colonial agenda, the British implemented a complex land reform program. Certainly, to reorganize Iraq on the Western model, the traditional relationship between people and the “state,” or authority, had to be redefined according to Western logic. This colonial task first necessitated the injection of Western-type property ownership. Therefore, the colonial rule aimed at abolishing old land regimes. Needless to say, the land registration process did not seek the welfare of the local people but favored British interests. Faced with the prospect of adverse social reaction, the colonial rule did not inject a proper private property regime, but sought instead to protect the primordial balances in Iraq. Thus, when confronted by tribal leaders, colonial rule ceased to implement universal property ownership principles, and for a while reverted to the Ottoman system of law. But as it depended on many different forms of landholding at the same time, the mandate realized that an effective rule was not possible in Iraq with the old land regime. Thus the British launched a new land policy in 1926. However, the early British land policy again followed a mediated direction between the traditional and modern land tenure systems. Thus, large groups of people who held only small parcels of land, or who had merely worked others’ lands, were not considered in the early land reform agenda. And many people were deprived of all legal rights to their lands. They were just occupants of or workers on it.107 The British officials attempted to reorganize the land regime in Iraq according to the new laws of 1926 and 1928. As it happened in Jordan, a colonial officer was responsible for this schedule: Henry Dobbs, the high commissioner who had gained good experience in India.108 In 1928, the Pump Owners Law was introduced, which granted full ownership to those who had installed a pump on former governmental land. By the time of the 1931–1932 Land Settlement Law, the British had recorded

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the balance of unregistered land as state property. (The land law of 1931– 1932 implied the increasing consolidation and centralization of state power.)109 This land was distributed mostly among important notables and families. This was an unjust distribution of land because a small number of people became the owners of large tracts. As Issawi points out, the British were at first reluctant to alter the system radically, for such a move could easily have antagonized the landlords and tribal chiefs on whom the mandate depended.110 As a result, a new regime of land ownership that was to be a pillar of modern statehood came into being, its many negative social and political outcomes notwithstanding. In general, however, the British land policy was more successful than the Ottomans’, at least in that it managed to extend land control to the remotest parts of Iraq, even to the southern regions.111 Undoubtedly, the evolution of a political structure remained important amidst all these developments and transformations. The political structure created by the 1922 Treaty, which formalized the colonial rule in Iraq, was dependent on two contending approaches. On the one hand was the British initiative, the main actor in political life; on the other, the nascent Iraqi state that demanded new forms of authority and responsibility. In the end this duet produced considerable structural discord. For example, the 1922 Treaty accepted British judges into the Iraqi court system in the name of protecting the rights of foreigners. But their presence, like the presence of British advisers in other fields, became a problem between the two sides. The Iraqi rulers later tried to limit the numbers and responsibilities of foreign advisers. There were also several conflicts between Britain and Iraq on the problem of government funds. Reforms of conscription rules and establishment of a national army were the Iraqi rulers’ priorities. However, the British side insisted on using government funds for constructing new roads and other infrastructural projects. Apart from the technical negotiations about infrastructure, the most important British influence was in the attempt to forge a nation from the multiethnic structure of Iraq. The Iraqi people comprised many different races, religions, and tribes. Different languages were spoken. Thus, the primary target of the government was to achieve homogenization as quickly as possible in all fields. Even the weights and measures schemes differed from town to town in Iraq. There was wide variation in the prices of the same commodity due to dissimilar market conditions, and the extensive use of different currencies attested to the latent economic disunity.112 In sum, Iraq did not constitute a political community in any sense of the term. These lands were among the most ethnically and religiously diverse Arab regions of the Ottoman Empire, and their amalgamation into a single country posed exceptionally difficult obstacles to nation building.113 There were overlapping loyalties and identities. Therefore, the early rulers of Iraq wanted to implement a typical nation-building program with various components: first they tried to centralize all coercive authority in the government’s hands by building a national army. This also entailed the

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abolition of alternative regional power centers. There were lingering effects of the millet system that still determined allegiances, loyalties, and identities. The passage from the Ottoman era to modern statehood was in the making, while contradictory influences, values, and interests clashed continuously.114 The traditional tribal and regional centers had their own military forces. As the traditional Ottoman administration was confined to major cities, tribal power centers had well-established military units. Logically, the establishment of a central coercive power necessitated a nation-based conscription policy. Given the multiethnic/multilayered structure of the Iraqi people, the new rulers of Iraq had the task of building an Iraqi identity. This necessitated many further steps, including the devising of new education programs. Thanks to such developments, the relations between Iraqis became less and less governed by kinship or religious standing or consideration of birth, and more and more by material possession.115 Not surprisingly, several minority groups rejected the new Iraqi citizenship. They feared that it would become the central government’s tool for their suppression. Both sectarian and ethnic minorities were thus slow to accept the new citizenship. Their fears were justified, as successive governments in Baghdad were quick to come forward with nationalist policies that imbued the curriculums of public schools. This touched off a clash between imperial policies and local realities. A colonial officer reported to London that several groups in Iraq demanded to live in Iraq without taking their place as Iraqi citizens. According to the same officer, this was not possible, since “. . . the aim of His Majesty’s Government is to create an Iraqi state and nation.”116 A central army is an important instrument of the nation-building process, not just as a strong central authority. Military conscription in Iraq was used not only as a means of strengthening the army but also as a means of achieving national cohesion. It was believed that a military conscription system would erode the particular loyalties of the different ethnic and sectarian groups. The army became an institutional factory for the production of the modern man, and for the overcoming of sectarian and communal divisiveness.117 As already noted, the national army was established in 1921. Paradoxically, the first Iraqi national army depended on 7,500 British men. In the following nine years, the number of men in the army reached 26,000.118 In 1934 universal conscription was introduced. However, conscription also drew swift criticism from several sectors of society. Undoubtedly, the instrumentalization of the army in the domestic political scene confirmed tribal fears. From the beginning, the Shi’a saw national conscription as a means for the Sunni to dominate and strengthen the Baghdadi central authority. Along with Shi’a, other groups, such as the Kurds and the Yazidis, were against conscription. The basic reason for tribal opposition to conscription was the Sunni social background of senior military officers. These groups perceived conscription as merely a Sunni tool for consolidating their dominance.

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Nation Building in Iraq Nation building was the priority of the first generation of Iraqi leadership as well. Following the colonial sample, the early nationalist elite were enthusiastic for more radical and sophisticated nation-building agendas. But the uncompleted business of colonial nation building was more complex than they had expected. The Sharifians arrived in Iraq with a definite, though not completely worked out, political ideology of nationalism that drew on a number of European models.119 Their ultimate aim was to create a new territorial state on the basis of a new Iraqi identity. Both the model and the rulers were alien to the people and the land. Thus, one of the most difficult nation-building and state-formation experiences unfolded in Iraq. Since 1932, successive governments in Iraq have been on a nation-building quest. As expected, many different methods were deployed. Educational policy was always a favored strategy for creating new homo nationalis. Complex legal reforms were carried out with a view to finding new forms. In parallel with these legal and political policies, governments sought to eradicate traditional exclusivist or typifying behaviors. All such leanings in tribal and regional behaviors were declared evil. But, of course, administrative brainwashing can never hope to create an organic nation. A nation is the product of the historical amalgamation of people and their economies, their culture and their law. Without a common history, administrative nationbuilding efforts are doomed to failure. The first moves toward national integration occurred soon after the creation of the Iraqi state and the accession of Faisal I as the first king of Iraq. He tried to advance the notions of non-sectarian Arab nationalism and Iraqi patriotism through public education, and through its co-option into state institutions. First, since the different Arabic dialects were a great obstacle, the official agenda was to replace all local dialects with the Baghdadi dialect. Subsequently, educational polices attempted to Arabize non-Arab communities and to implement a uniform curriculum in communal schools. Often such policies were implemented at the expense of minority groups. Subcultures such as the Kurdish and the Assyrian were excluded. In typical style, the central government attempted to co-opt important figures from different sectarian and ethnic groups. Co-optation seemed the easiest and the most tangible method of appeasing minorities. Therefore, the Iraqi cabinets and parliaments included the various groups. In general, nation-building policies under Faisal had three major components: the centralization of all coercive authority in the government’s hands through a strong national army and the elimination of all alternative centers of power; the forging of a sense of Iraqi and Arab identity through the establishment of a national education system; and the laying of the groundwork for a panArab foreign policy.120 But a major obstacle to his centralizing agenda was again the multiplicity of alternative power centers. The tribal and sectarian groups looked on his reforms with suspicion, ever vigilant for threats to their traditional lifestyle. This made it necessary for Faisal and his followers to

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work throughout the 1920s to tone down both the Sunni and the Shi’i local political leadership, for fear that their power mechanisms would be engaged in a quest for political dominance. As expected, the importance of education in nation building was critical. The Iraqi project aimed at creating a nation through education. The status of education for nation building was at the high-politics level, a national cause above daily politics. The education policies of Sati’ al Husri (director of General Education, 1921–1941) especially pursued cultural unification through a curriculum designed to imbue new generations with pan-Arabism. According to Husri, the only alternative to creating an Iraqi national myth and identity was to imitate the German model. To Al-Husri, German nationalism, with its emphasis on language and history as unifying factors, was the perfect model for Arab nationalism.121 Al-Husri’s education agenda was the implantation in an extremely multiethnic society of a typical nation-state model. He sought to instill a sense of common identity in the Iraqi people by stressing Arab history and culture, promoting standard Arabic over regional dialects, and by trying to suppress particularistic identities such as those of the Shi’a, the Kurds, the Christians, and the Jews. From a different perspective, nation building in Iraq necessitated the abolition of former social, economic, and political mechanisms. For Husri, education was the only route to new morality, a morality that family and tradition were incapable of instilling. Therefore, the teacher was a moral agent through whom children were made aware of their Arab identity and its meaning. Against a backdrop of traditional loyalties and networks, education was alone competent to inculcate new nationalist ideologies. For example, in 1922, Husri introduced into the primary school curriculum a text called Information on Moral and Civil Duties. Husri, influenced by Fichte and the German Romantics, believed that nations were organic and natural divisions of the human species, existing as objective entities independent of their members’ feelings. Language is the prime informer of every national identity.122 He was less concerned about state borders than about national identity. In short, his philosophy was that a common language and a common history were the basis of nation formation and nationalism. In his words: “Language is the soul and the life of the nation.”123 His policies were underpinned by the idea that the Iraqi nation is part of a wider Arab nation, and that Iraqi nationalism entails the promulgation of the Arab nation ideal. Teachers were imported from Syria and Palestine, and were directed to write textbooks that would be used not only in Iraq but also throughout the Arab world. The teachers who taught from these commissioned textbooks (prescribed by the Ministry of Education in Baghdad) strove to bond the Sunni minority elite, the ethnic and religious minorities, and the Shi’i majority with the glue of Arab nationalism in order to forge a pan-Arab identity for the Iraqis.124 By the 1930s, many of the teachers were Syrians and Palestinians, usually strong advocates for Palestine in the context of the Arabism they were teaching. However, such an amorphous identity was far

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from convincing for several groups. Therefore, different groups, especially the Shi’a, did not welcome Husri. Actually, pan-Arab sentiment impeded the realization of an Iraqi identity in two ways. First, it denigrated ethnic groups. For example, what annoyed the Iraqi Shi’a more than the loss of political power was the ethnic denigration that was a natural concomitant of the imposition of Arab nationalist ideology. Second, pan-Arabism, transcending the single nation, was a disincentive to national identity formation. Arabism rests on a transnational identity that “. . . entails an awareness of belonging to a large group of humanity that stretches across state boundaries.”125 Promoting Arabism, the Iraqi government impeded the consolidation of citizenship, or national identity, and thereby laid the foundation that would in the years to come show up as a structural problem. In 1940, a new law was accepted into the education-policy framework: The Public Education Law. This law enforced a strict Arabization policy in all public schools. Accordingly, all public and private schools had the official obligation of reorganizing their curriculum into a strict Arabist narrative. All deviation from the spirit of the law, whether in the curriculum, the textbooks, or the act of teaching, was prohibited. To keep the nation-building agenda pure, very few secondary schools were opened in the provinces, and strict controls were imposed in private schools. Given economic limits, it was clear that not all parts of Iraq could be incorporated into the nation-building process through education. Most such projects were urban based. Therefore, the inclusion of tribal groups was not possible. The Constitution of 1925 guaranteed all minorities equality before the law. According to Article 6 of the 1925 Constitution, there shall be no differentiation in the rights of Iraqis before the law, whatever differences may exist in language, race, or creed. Such egalitarian discourses were the consequence of the idealistic worldview of the early ruling elite. The latter thought that once sovereignty and independence was obtained, it would be easy to create a modern and prosperous state in line with the colonially injected Western model. This early idealism was, however, shattered by the social realities of the following years. For one, intergroup antagonism had survived. The declaration of statehood and the imposition of fixed boundaries triggered intense competition for power in the new entity: Sunni and Shi’a, cities and tribes, sheikhs and tribesmen, Assyrians and Kurds, panArab and Iraqi nationalists all fought vigorously for places in the emerging state structure. Despite the new territorial boundaries, no group was willing to share its privileged traditional spheres. Each group suspiciously scrutinized the new model for evidence of another’s attempt to become dominant. Lacking legitimacy and unable to establish deep roots, the British-imposed political system was overwhelmed by these conflicting stands. For example, there were atrocities against the Jewish people in the late 1930s. Many demonstrations took place against the Jews in 1938. Kurdish and Arab groups attacked Assyrian settlements during the 1930s and 1940s. Thus, the

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only visible political link between the different groups was their antagonism. King Faisal I expounded thus on the failure of nation building: There is still no Iraqi people but unimaginable masses of human beings, devoid of any patriotic idea, imbued with religious traditions and absurdities, connected by no common tie, giving ear to evil, prone to anarchy, and perpetually ready to rise against any government wherever. Out of these masses, we want to fashion a people, which we would train, educate and refine.126

Another severe problem was the condition of rural people. Their social conditions were very poor, and traditional primordial patterns were in place to resist any change. As previously mentioned, the economic and infrastructural shortages of the central government limited the realization of nation building and state formation in peripheral regions. As in other postcolonial states, nation building was largely an urban-centered project in Iraq. Yet rural reform was a “must” if primordial patterns were to be annihilated by national identity. New regulations were therefore needed to abolish centuries-old tribal patterns. To bring them into being, the 1933 Law Governing the Rights and Duties of Cultivators was repealed. This liberated the rural people from the rigid control of tribal leaders. But, despite the extensive agenda of de-tribalization, the bigger tribes were still occupying the same geographical spaces they had occupied in the early 1950s. On the eve of the 1958 Revolution, more than two-third of Iraq’s cultivated land was concentrated in 2 percent of the holdings, whereas at the other extreme, 86 percent of the holdings included less than 10 percent of cultivated land.127 This odd state of affairs can be understood by scrutinizing Iraqi rulers’ motivations. In fact, the real aim of de-tribalization was to abolish tribal organizations and networks, especially in the countryside. To replace historical tribal bounds, the government meant to assert its central authority in all parts of its territory. However, thanks to the legitimacy crisis of the new state, political pragmatism did little more than determine the course of de-tribalization. To prevent political tension, central governments never pushed for absolute change. For example, in September 1958, the Agrarian Reform Law, as another typical agenda, introduced new regulations that limited the historical roles of tribal leaders in rural areas. Accordingly, excessively large land holdings were to be redistributed to landless people. However, redistribution took a cautious path, lest it provoke reactions against centralization. Many privileged groups saw risk to their interests in such agendas. In the end, the traditional landlords were given the right of choice, which meant that those who had to surrender some of their land could keep the most fertile and best irrigated portions, and give up only the least profitable tracts.128 In other words, rather than complete de-tribalization, such policies aimed at benefiting tribalism in line with government policies. These balancing acts kept the government well away from a commitment to radical reform in rural areas. As initiatives in education and economics had miscarried, so tribal and

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sectarian networks retained their clout over rural Iraqis in spite of centralist plans to erode that authority. The cohabitation of primordial patterns with new political forms, the hybrid model, had thus become institutionalized in Iraq. Nation-building strategies continued during the following decades. But given the rapid changes, they took different paths in different periods. The nation-building style altered with the coups and revolution the elite mounted against one another in their quest for dominance. Each group had its own program. Even the definition of “nation” was in a constant state of flux in Iraq. For example, the nature of nation building during the 1970s was quite unlike that in any other time. Archeological excavations were popularized as evidence of the rich Iraqi cultural heritage. There was even an effort to erect teleology to prove a distinct historical Iraqi identity that is independent of Arab and Muslim background. Many new museums were opened for that purpose. The government ordered all schools to visit these museums to imbibe the idea of Iraqi-ness. Nevertheless, even such elaborate nationbuilding agendas were unable to reverse the cohabitation of the modern and the traditional in Iraq. The later years also saw some keen nation building, but major problems overtook all of them. There had been so many, and their visions, though equally grand, had piled up as incompatible to Arabism, Iraqi nationalism, Islamism, socialism, and secularism. Naturally, the final narrative was fuzzy and incoherent, therefore quite incapable of gripping the public imagination. The Limits of Nation Building Factors responsible for the serious damage to the nation-building process in Iraq should be identified. Iraq is in chaos today. Chapter 5 comments on this in detail. How did certain facts limit the nation-building process in Iraq? A historical account will surely contribute to an understanding of present-day Iraqi politics. In analyzing the limits to nation building in Iraq, the first issue is the role of pan-Arabism. Iraq, a country still in the process of nation building, had long been under the influence of pan-Arabism. The inculcation of panArabism through public school curriculums both impeded the formation of a national identity and caused adverse ethnic reaction. Certainly, Arabism did not add to the nation-building process in Iraq. As a transnational idea, it impeded the consolidation of a territorial identity. A search for an Arab union was absolutely against the consolidation of the newly created national spaces in the Arab world. Pan-Arabism resonated loudly during the 1930s. For example, Prime Minister Sulayman was harshly criticized for not paying enough attention to the Arab cause. Even his relatively liberal policies in favor of Kurds in government drew a hostile reaction. After the elections in June 1948, the Pachachi government plied an expansive pan-Arab foreign policy. Pachachi,

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intent on promoting the rapprochement of Arabs, recognized Egypt’s de facto leadership of the Arab world.129 It was the heyday of Nasserism, and the military cadres organized a coup d’état in Iraq. Yet there was an anti-Nasserite rule government just before the coup. In 1955, it was announced that Iraq was joining a British-supported mutual defense pact with Iran, Pakistan, and Turkey. The Baghdad Pact constituted a direct challenge to Egyptian president Nasser. In response, Nasser launched a media offensive that challenged the legitimacy of the Iraqi monarchy and called on the officer corps to overthrow it. His influence was impressive at the social level, as his message found easy uptake among the people. Millions were influenced by his ideas. The military coup fired up Arabist tendencies in Iraq. However, there was no unity on the issue of Iraqi identity even among the leaders of the coup. They were eventually obliged to clarify their priorities: Iraq first or Arab unity first? It is important to realize that all Arabist agendas were in fact constructed on a tacit Sunni worldview. Therefore, the “Iraq first or the Arab union first” discussion was not directly important, as both alternatives contributed to the Sunni dominance in Iraq. But the oscillation between Iraqi and Arab identity was very risky for non-Arab groups. Minority groups, particularly the Shi’a and the Kurds, saw a risk to themselves in Arabism, for it seemed set to enhance the Sunni-Arab dominance of Iraq. No doubt, the Arabization of foreign policy would have important consequences for domestic politics. When Saddam Hussein came to the office, Arabism was again the official state doctrine: “One Arab nation with an eternal mission.”130 Despite its waxing and waning over time, Arabism was significant in Iraqi politics for creating two impediments to nation building: (i) it slowed down the emergence of an Iraqi national identity; and (ii) it drew adverse reactions from non-Arabs, which perpetuated the historical gap between the Arab and non-Arabs. Since it had proved impossible to institutionalize national links, nation building proceeded on personality issues. This is another typical manifestation of the hybrid nature of postcolonial states. The Western, or Weberian, state model rejects all tribal or sectarian points of departure. In the Weberian rational social order, state power is objective, or depersonalized; state political institutions serve society neutrally.131 However, politics in Iraq has always been characterized by personal relationship. So despite its Western appearance, the reality of Iraqi politics is quite unlike the Weberian model, for it operates with traditional or primordial instruments. The Iraqi system had survived on a person-based pseudo model of statehood. Undoubtedly, this makes for an unstable system. Iraqi history encompasses coups, revolutions, wars, ethnic conflicts, and humanitarian catastrophes. Without a depersonalized and institutionalized structure, the only possible change was a change of persons/cadres, which inevitably meant radical regime change and attendant political and social upheaval. Regime change permits more than a change of government. Iraq, prone to the former, is incapable of institutional continuity. All new rulers or cadres launch programs that necessitate structural change.

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The early nation-building process under King Faisal rested totally on his personal symbolism. Therefore, the monarchy’s ability to deal with tribal unrest suffered a major setback when King Faisal died in 1933. Since Faisal, succession has come with political crisis. He was the one figure with sufficient prestige to draw politicians together around a concept of national interest. This personalized system was then firmly consolidated in the 1940s and 1950s,132 and has remained in place ever since, putting out of reach any possibility of a systemic neutrality. Thus, instead of national identity, elite political perceptions have been the determinants of statehood. The country’s identity has been defined in accordance with the political interests of current leaders.133 This has always been the cause of the Iraqi identity crisis. Glorification of leaders became the norm after the 1958 Revolution, and it persisted for successive leaders and governments. Saddam Hussein finally turned the person-based system into a thoroughgoing personality cult. He completely reconstructed the Iraqi political system around his personality. This put paid to any possibility of the emergence of a Weberian/Western-type neutral/rational political system, which emergence had, admittedly, already been effectively blocked by the governments that preceded his. The resultant system was without a calculable logic, and it deployed, unpredictably, any instruments of tribalism or of the personal network that happened to be momentarily convenient. What would otherwise have been state structure become a pattern of relatives. Al-Khalil describes the situation thus: Everything is relative and in the process of becoming; nothing is legitimate that is not made by them [the rulers]; everything has a purpose derived solely from the exigencies of the movement and its goals.134

What Al-Khalil’s sees in Iraq are the typical features of hybrid sovereigns that try to compensate for the absence in their system of the tertiary elements of the Western model. In sharp contrast to the calculable and neutral Western political systems, hybrid models are extremely relative, thanks to their personbased structures. Thus, Iraqi politics rests on de facto sources of legitimacy, not on de jure sources.135 It is this legitimacy factor that has always made the Iraqi model different from its official appearance. For instance, in 1976, a new law ordered Iraqis to drop their tribal names. Accordingly, they could no longer identify themselves with names like “al-Tikriti”, “al-Mosuli,” or “ad-Duri.” On the surface, this law appeared to Westernize Iraqi name systems as another step toward the realization of Western statehood. However, the truth of the matter was that the change was intended primarily to hide the fact that many Tikritis, and others close to Saddam’s clan, were in key state positions.136 Paradoxically, modern forms were put to the task of perpetuating primordial patterns. This reminds us of Hisham Sharabi’s neo-patriarchy. Accordingly, in the Arab world, a modernization that is the product of patriarchal and dependent conditions can only be a dependent, or contingent, “modernization.” “Dependency

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relations inevitably lead not to modernity but to modernized patriarchy, or neo-patriarchy.”137 Many primordial patterns were given modern dresses in Iraq. These dresses are in themselves clear proof of the absence of the Western-state model in the Iraqi context. In an analysis of how the consolidation of modern statehood has failed in Iraq, attention to the absence of a settled, concordant elite is instructive. Along with the disunity among the sectarian and tribal groups, the Iraqi elite have not been likeminded from the beginning. According to Burton and Higley, a national elite may manifest as disunified, ideologically unified, or consensually unified. A disunified national elite characteristically displays ruthless, often violent, interelite conflict. Elite factions deeply distrust one another, interpersonal relations do not extend across factional lines, and factions do not cooperate to avoid political crises.138 In a country where there is elite disunity there is also insecurity and fear. For each group, the dominance of another elite group means a total loss. Therefore, elite groups take extreme measures to protect themselves, which might include coups, revolutions, uprisings, killings, and imprisonments. A disunified national elite obstructs the possibility of systemic rules and principles that regulate the political game in their country. Historically speaking, an elite settlement has never occurred in terms of a common/national Iraqi vision. This is not surprising, considering that: . . . there was no single past to be re-appropriated by the different groups forming Iraq’s population . . . each group retained distinct collective memories and distinct vision of the nation’s collective future.139

Thus, the modern history of Iraq can be read as the battle of different contending visions that resulted in regime changes, revolutions, coups, and wars. The British-injected Iraq was so artificial that it perplexed even the new elite. They were given a new nation-state form to manage as it suited them. However, this elite had common preferences. In fact, Iraq lacked a class that was organic in any sense whatsoever. The Iraqi state was not the result of a natural transformation put in train by an indigenous bourgeoisie or their equivalent. The only quasi-classes in Iraq were the tribal or sectarian leaders and their families. The remnants of the Ottoman Empire might be considered another class group. But, since these are groups for the very reason of their exclusiveness, rapprochement among them was inconceivable, and no external factor had modified this. In view of this state of affairs, “elite settlement” was structurally unavailable. This deficit continued during the following decades, leaving the elite in continuous competition. In other words, there were different groups with different agendas from the beginning. This endemic problem became a structural disease. Because there have always been different groups with different visions of Iraq, the country was reduced to a battle ground. In addition, the contending groups did not refrain from using violence against one

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another. Even important institutions such as the army were under the control of groups rather than that of the state. In the words of Tripp: It [Iraq] has the capacity to rouse conflicting passions among different sections of the population, and any attempt to resolve it definitively one way or the other has generally presaged the downfall of the Iraqi government responsible.140

A short glance at Iraqi history confirms the dire consequences of the unavailability of an elite settlement. An illuminating study of Iraqi political development is provided by Hikmat Suleyman’s election as prime minister after a turbulent campaign during which some military groups even organized attacks on government buildings in Baghdad. Suleyman urged several senior army officers to stage an attack on Baghdad, in cooperation with other military leaders, to force the current government to resign. The 1936 coup was another development that displayed the lack of elite settlement. It totally shifted the priorities of the Iraqi state. Despite their previous pan-Arab position, the new cadres’ policies resulted in a foreign policy oriented toward Turkey and Iran. Just three years after the 1936 coup, all priorities changed again. In April 1939, King Ghazi was killed in an accident and was succeeded by his infant son, Faisal II. Amir Abd al Ilah was appointed the regent. Nuri as-Said came to the forefront as an important personality at this time. Although the previous rulers (Faisal I and Ghazi) had been strong Arab nationalists and had opposed the tribal sheikhs, Abd al Ilah and Nuri as-Said were Iraqi nationalists who relied on the tribal sheikhs as a counterforce against the growing urban nationalist movement. In the same way, the 1958 Revolution caused great shifts in Iraq. On July 14, 1958, the revolutionary forces captured the capital, declared the downfall of the monarchy, and proclaimed a republic. The leading members of the royal house, including the king, were executed. In a couple of days all priorities and principles of political life were again dramatically changed. Despite the bitter ethnic conflicts, a new constitution was issued in 1958 that promised the Kurds a very bright future. The Constitution declared that Arabs and Kurds were “partners in this homeland.” As the monarchy was abolished, a new republican regime came into being by decree. But decrees cannot guarantee the formation of a nation and state in the context of the artificial creation that the Iraqi state had remained. Not surprisingly, there was no elite settlement, and conflicts among officers continued. The supporters of the revolution lacked both a coherent ideology and an effective organizational structure. The same battle among the elite continued. Arif championed the pan-Arab cause and advocated Iraq’s union with the United Arab Republic. Qasim rallied the forces against Arab unity, Kurds, and communists, and stressed Iraq’s own identity and internal unity. The July 14 Revolution marked the culmination of a series of uprisings and coups that began with the 1936 coup. The Revolution had aimed at a radical change in Iraq’s social structure by destroying the power of the landed

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sheikhs and the absentee landlords while enhancing the position of the urban workers, the peasants, and the middle class. However, such agendas revived long-suppressed sectarian, tribal, and ethnic conflicts. The strongest of these conflicts were those between the Kurds and the Arabs, and between the Sunni and the Shi’a. In much the same way, the military coup of 1963 also caused structural change in Iraq. With this coup, the Ba’th Party, a group of young activists who advocated Arab nationalism and socialism, was entrusted with power. But it was other developments after 1968 that shaped the standing characteristics of the Ba’th Party. The Ba’th regime aimed at the revision of the Iraqi state along different principles, and, to a large extent, that revision was carried through. All these developments showed that many incompatible agendas have come to the fore because of the disagreement among the elite. In each era, important issues such as national identity and the social contract were redefined. This structural disease has survived to the present time. The lack of an elite settlement, a direct result of the colonial legacy, still seems one of the most important obstacles to successful nation building and state formation in Iraq. The role of the army also needs attention in an analysis of the obstacles to nation building in Iraq. Theoretically speaking, state formation presumes the establishment of many interrelated institutions, such as a market, a bureaucracy, a legal system, and political institutions. It is assumed that all citizens are treated equally in such a system. Nevertheless, no colonial creation has come equipped with a policy for creating these institutions. This difficulty pushed many postcolonial rulers to search for easier solutions, among them the one of giving the army a central role in the nation-building process. In many colonial creations, the army was believed to be the best guardian of national aspirations and national unity. Constructing a national market or a functioning parliament presumed a contemplative and detailed procedure, while establishing a national army was relatively easy, and an army has an obvious pragmatic purpose. A strong army was considered vital for a strong central authority. In general, the Iraqi army had three tasks: (i) protecting the new monarchy and providing it with a force more powerful than the tribal militia; (ii) quelling tribal rebels; and (iii) contributing to nation building.141Although theoretically the military college was open to all ethnic and communal groups, more and more cadets had Arab Sunni backgrounds.142 It was a fact that the army was a Sunni-dominated instrument. Even in the 1930s, during the rule of Prime Minister Suleiman, new admissions to military schools from Kurdish districts drew strong opposition from Arab intellectuals. (Sunni Arabs staunchly protected the Sunni character of the army.) Conscription even rejected some groups. For example, the Assyrians conscripted in 1922 were purged during the violence of 1933. In fact, the crushing of Assyrian villages was the first victory of the modern Iraqi army. Gradually, the army came to occupy the status of founding agent of the nation.

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The Iraqi state was not the product of the rise of the bourgeoisie, but a bureaucratic artifact of soldiers. Iraqi rulers tried to use the creation of a national army as a symbol of identity. However, there were many obstacles, stemming from the absence of a national sprit, without which the development of links between soldiers and their officers became difficult.143 It was hardly possible to explain to a tribal society the basis of the link between a soldier and an officer. A determined effort may have talked in this vein: Modernism is the seamless web of religious, tribal, ethnic, nationalist, and militarist sentiments. The army is a modernist organization. Its members do not have traditional loyalties. They are loyal to the Iraqi nation. However, traditional loyalties and modernist sentiment turned into hysteria of confessional army politics.144 This promoted the emergence of splinter groups. So the army, purportedly a bastion of national unity, had, paradoxically, failed to generate a discipline capable of embracing all its own parts. The sectarian and tribal competition that was running rampant in the national army had two important consequences: (i) the army was politicized; and (ii) several sectarian or tribal groups came to see the army as the instrument of some for the domination of others—which is, as it happens, how they had always seen it. A series of attempted and successful coups d’état from 1939 to 1968 resulted in a number of reorganizations of the armed forces, and in the transfer of their control to various factions of government. No doubt, these changes institutionalized the use of violence in politics. In addition, they showed that the army had succeeded in protecting its central role in the political system. State authoritarianism and the regular resort to violence in Iraq can be attributed to the fact that the state had relied on the army from the outset in its nation-building process. In Iraq, in spite of a dedicated struggle for nation building, former networks and forms such as tribalism and sectarianism have survived. The failure of successive central governments to exert their control over all groups and parts of society was compensated for with resort to violence. A complex web of security institutions developed, and their role was to suppress domestic threats. As noted earlier, the excessive use of security institutions for domestic purposes is a typical feature of hybrid sovereigns. It is a typical substitution mechanism that compensates for the breakdown of the boundary between state and society. Having failed to create a persuasive political sphere, the only option was force or manipulation of employment opportunities. This has been the dominant feature of Iraqi politics since its formation by Britain. As expected, the use of force was the basic pillar in this model. All successive Iraqi governments employed unprecedented degrees of violence. Force was not just another instrument; it was the instrument of government. All security institutions, including the army, acted as agents of internal authoritarianism. Finally, under Saddam, the Ba’th regime constructed multiple intelligence apparatus that pervaded all aspects of Iraqi society. This violence network became a pillar of the regime.145 Excessive violence against

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the different social groups is attributable to the failure of the nation-building process in Iraq. The Iraqi state has been, and remains, a terrain of contest that has kept the state as a project that is always on its way to realization.146 Today, many of the cited limits of statehood are vibrant in Iraq in more excessive forms. The role of foreign actors notwithstanding, it is this state-in-the-making condition that is to blame for the current catastrophic situation in the country.

The Common Condition After complex Westernization processes, Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq emerged as sovereign members of the international system of states. Western influence produced immense political and social consequences for the Arab people. These lands were turned into Western sovereign states. But, the formal injection of the Western model, or the expansion of the state system into the Arab Middle East, did not entail the full realization of this model. The transformation of international systems created new sovereigns equipped with formal institutions and capabilities. However, traditional forms continued despite the formal frameworks. Consequently, hybrid characteristics prevail in all cases. The hybrid-state model owes its existence to two major phenomena: The first was local cultures and traditions processing the Western model. In other words, there was an encounter of two paradigms, and the outcome was the hybrid paradigm. The second phenomenon was the vicious circle of endless substitutions deployed to protect whatever was the regime of the day, only to have those regimes deploy the very strategies they had been protected from: Political regimes with a record of failure across different fields have not refrained from deploying risky instruments such as tribalism to protect their positions. Hybridization has been perpetuated by the hand of the elite and the rulers. Modernization at the administrative level was indeed very important, for it introduced Western practices, at least as exemplars. However, modernization has not penetrated the economies of the societies it has touched. The gap between the formal and practical economy is much bigger than the gap between the formal administrative setup and actual practice. Modernization was at first a largely administrative phenomenon. Inasmuch as it has remained such a phenomenon, and the traditional ways of economies have merely occupied its structures, even that first modernizing step, the administrative one, must carry its share of blame for the hybrid state.

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Kuwait: A Nation in the Minority

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n January 2006 the Kuwaiti parliament unanimously voted to dethrone Emir Sheikh Saad Al Abdullah Al Sabah. Although the reason for this was the Emir’s ill health, such a step was unprecedented not only in Kuwait but region-wide. In 2005 parliament enfranchised women and declared them eligible to stand for parliamentary office. Both events can be read as important milestones in the realization of modern statehood. However, such formal legislative events do not give the full political picture. Many find the recently enacted law regarding women unacceptable for its clear deviation from tradition, and for the fact that it was poorly supported, even among women. Having legislated, several members of the parliament were quick to advise women to take account of their husbands’ advice on the matter. The reaction was typical, since in tribal tradition the leader, beyond and above his personal attributes, represents the spirit of tradition. The duty of others is to obey. Obedience is not a call for self-subjection to the leader, but a call for submission to the eternal and transcendental spirit of the group. In fact, the traditionalist bloc had succeeded to attach a provision to the new legislation that requires future female politicians and voters to abide by Islamic law. As inducement for opposition’s support of its innovative legislation, the government had proposed also a pay increase for Kuwaiti state employees and pensioners, and offered a budget of $445 million a year for the purpose.1 The political and social discussions and developments around both issues is the code that, deciphered, spells out the hybrid nature of Kuwaiti politics and depicts the complex Kuwaiti history that has seen both traditional and modern systems of government. This chapter will describe how the sovereignty crises and the substitution mechanisms that are deployed to surmount them hybridize the Kuwaiti political system. The two attention-grabbing facets of this state of affairs are economic and demographic. By and large, its demography and economy are modern Kuwait’s characterizing properties. These two properties also construct the limits of the country’s sovereignty. A study of how substitution policies operate will shed light on the type of hybrid-state model that has been established in Kuwait.

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Kuwait is a typical rentier state that works on the logic of the rentier scheme. As in other rentier states, the relationship between state and society—or how politics is organized—is singular. There is here a vital and apparent relationship between the economy and sovereignty.2 But paradoxically, it is the state’s vitality that creates an endless chain of substitution policies. It is inconceivable that Kuwait would have emerged as a sovereign state if it had not discovered oil.3 Oil has been the dominant feature of the economy since 1946. In the past, oil provided close to 93 percent of government revenue.4 Petroleum now accounts for nearly half of the GDP, 95 percent of export revenues, and 80 percent of government income. Oil revenue powers the system, with all its deficits, and keeps the state–society boundaries in working order. Given its small but social-service demanding population, its single-commodity economy, and the uncertainty in oil prices, Kuwait’s economy is fragile.5 The departure point in its socioeconomic structure was the discovery of oil.6 The economic transformation that the oil boom accelerated created a-typical sovereignty-regarding conditions in which the paradoxical vitality of a rentier system became very evident. The traditional forms processed the Western-state model and paved the way for the parameters that were to delimit some domestic sovereignty issues, among them that of citizenship. The system’s oscillation between the traditional and the modern continues to create legitimacy crises. Yet the government can run the system, thanks to the vitality of oil revenues. Throughout its modern history, the regime has been able to convert its leadership failures into apparent successes by availing itself of the opportunities that a rentier system typically creates. The government uses the huge oil revenue to artificially run the system. This is a new type of hybridization manufactured by economic instruments. Exacerbating the rentier mentality is the demographic composition of this small state: The majority of its population does not hold citizenship. The fascinating spectacle here is how the Western sovereignty-model transforms in a society composed largely of non-citizens. Where, one might well ask, is the border between “us” and “the others” in Kuwait if the “us” component is the small minority? Recalling Levinas’s reflections on the “permanent sense of the other in the homeland,” and the implicit desire in it for a “oneness” cleared of “the other,” one must realize that such a sentiment cannot gain ground in Kuwait, and that consequently modern-state building objectives do not apply there. Where the “us” distinction cannot obtain as the “nationhood” concept that either distances or accommodates “the others,” the only solution is to construct a sense of “us” by means of a complex and dynamic hierarchy. Efforts to construct a modern-state model based on universal citizenship in a political environment in which most people are not citizens would be nothing short of irrational. In Kuwait, even the few who are citizens are in different constituencies. Whereas citizenship is no guarantee here of a relationship between state and people, tribalism is seen as the only reasonable,

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available substantive context in which such a relationship might obtain. The fact that many people live contentedly without the basic rights that citizenship confers is clear evidence that they like their “us and them” distinction to be based on hierarchic status rather than in terms of citizenship, or even in terms of “the homeland.” People therefore have an assortment of loyalties, and they protect their interests through pertinent mechanisms. Not naturalizing all its people, the government has developed alternate modes for dealing with and controlling them. This results in a diversity of connections between the state and the people. Certainly, any “sovereignty” concept that can be abstracted from this situation is significantly unlike that in its Western sense. Domestic sovereignty and foreign-policy issues are therefore approached in ways that have little in common with Western ones. Both rentierism and the demographic situation in the country are products of its colonial background. Kuwait is a typical colonial artifact created by complicated diplomatic maneuvers after the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire. Many institutions of modern statehood were implanted by Western powers, mainly Britain, during the long Westernization process.7 The usual transitional problems were therefore to be anticipated. The colonization process, though it occurred at different levels, was to a great extent administrative. Colonizer imagination manifested in the form of a new administrative chart. All societal elements, be they economic or cultural, were invited to adapt to this chart. But changing well-established economic and cultural patterns from their historical course and character was not easy. Therefore, the colonial administrative chart was imposed without the political and economic infrastructure that should have been its drivers. The county’s rulers had no small problem in the task of protecting the stability of the chart’s artificial creations. This artificiality has always been troublesome. For instance, some groups of Kuwaitis of nomadic origin were unable to understand the rapid transformation of the political system, so they became a people without citizenship even though they had inhabited the area for centuries. Some other indigenous groups who were registered as citizens could not transform their relationship with the state beyond the traditional rentier-mentality one. In consequence, a nation-devising project on the basis of oil revenues supported by a very strict citizenship code and other antidemocratic measures became the basis of the social contract in Kuwait. Once the two facts, the demographic and economic structures, are taken together, a simple but informative conclusion can be drawn: Given the artificiality of the state, the government’s basic strategy in protecting its autonomy has been a mixture of traditional and modern practices plied with a rentier mentality. This hybrid model, which combines the traditional and the modern, is the point of origin of the many obstacles to Western sovereignty and statehood. As long as citizenship is not institutionalized to sustain the state’s autonomy as in Western states, the government will be forced to remain a player in an endless game against different groups. The

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state will be able to protect its autonomy only through unorthodox political strategies. In other words, to protect its domestic boundaries Kuwait is, on a Weberian understanding, forced to be a kind of corporatist game-player that legitimizes certain groups at the expense of others.8 Traditional methods, such as cooperating with tribal leaders and merchant families, have been extensively deployed so far. The substitution policy of making alliances with tribal leaders and merchants is a clear sign of the hybrid state. In simple terms, what prevents Kuwait from being besieged by its troubles is primarily the existence of oil money. As an artificial state with a population in which non-citizens are the majority, a rentier social contract is the essence of political order. It is very difficult to suppose that everything would be same without oil-originated abundance. Oil plays the key role in sustaining statehood. The government creates persuading space with oil revenues without resorting to the use of force like other hybrid-state sovereigns. But a rentier framework can hardly remain the long-term strategy, for that would perpetuate the sovereignty problem. As it is, the government has to be mindful of traditional balances when it distributes state revenue: it cannot do so in a way that would incur political risk. Kuwaiti rulers have to keep a weather eye on the potential of some groups to translate their will into political power. This political risk brings into play certain antidemocratic measures, especially when the rentier mechanisms fail. The Kuwaiti case is part of the grand story of colonialism in the region. The creation of national spaces was an unprecedented experience in Arab lands, where there had always been a big Arab “nation” with many commons. So the task was to create national space and its validating episteme from an encompassing Arab whole. The injection of a Western model through the colonial process gave way to several problems, which are yet to be solved. A new Western national space and the related epistemic categories truly challenged the traditional body of knowledge and forms in the region. This process was experienced in Kuwait too. It was transformed into a territorial state. The crucial question is: How has such an alien model persisted for so long? The answer is that the hybrid structure has modified the Western territorial statehood concept with its own traditional rentier model. Therefore, we see practices such as cliency, rentierism, tribal corporatism, the use of force, and the use of international support. However, a hybrid structure, which incorporates traditional practices in a modern format, gives rise to endless bargaining between the modern and the traditional. The aim of this chapter is first to elucidate how specific economic conditions jeopardize domestic boundaries, and how this jeopardy is the product of the hybrid model. Several issues, such as social contract, citizenship, the relationship between state and economic sectors, and the problem of minorities will be examined. Mindful of the expatriate crisis, a secondary subject will be Kuwait’s foreign policy.

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The Political and Social Consequences of Rentierism The oil boom transformed the traditional “medieval” system and replaced it with a new one.9 As Anderson notes, in countries where the process of creating the territorial state was substantially completed before oil became the primary source of government revenues, capital inflows were mediated through existing state institutions and were subject to extensive bargaining between the state and local societies.10 Similarly, the modern state machinery institutionalized the distribution of oil revenues, which dramatically changed the political and social configuration in Kuwait. The idea of the modern state, following mainstream literature from Poggi to Tilly, is connected with Europe’s gradual institutional development that began in the late fifteenth century and culminated in the rise of capitalism and a new socially stratified society. The emergence of the capitalist structure was a complex phenomenon and connected to “new means of production,” “distribution,” and “pricing.” The Kuwaiti model deviated from this classic route when it was hijacked by oil revenues. The newly established state seized on oil revenues as the best opportunity for consolidating its authority. It abolished pre-oil social, political, and economic balances. Oil revenues tremendously influenced the transformation of the institutions and foundations of the modern state during the 1950s. A new political system came into being. The essential strategy was to fuse the artificial nation-state through the mechanism of oil-revenue allocation. This strategy was expected to realize a modern-state format that would operate without any major difficulties. The oil boom made the first of the fundamental changes to the relationship between rulers and merchants. The merchant sector had already emerged as a homogenized and unified political actor before the oil boom. As a new political class, they changed the course of politics through the majlis and other semi-formal institutions. For the ruling elite, these informal institutions were important, for without their consent a major decision was risky. The merchant class derived power through their financial contribution to the system. During the pre-oil era, the merchants had provided the Emirate with most of its income through taxes and loans. They had ultimate control of the main economic sectors, including pearling, shipbuilding, trade, and long-distance commerce. Their complex connections with the international market had seen them acquire high levels of communication skills and state-of-the-art technology. Their technological prowess was far greater than that of members in Kuwait’s loose authority structure. Outstanding for their strong involvement in the world economy, they distinguished themselves from other Kuwaitis not only for reasons of their wealth and influence but also social origin. As the old merchant elite of the traditional Sunni Najdi elite, their sectarian and ethnic origins were different from those of others in the Kuwaiti state. Merchant families also strengthen

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their solidarity through in-group marriages, which safeguards their economic interests.11 Despite developments and changes, the merchants as a small and homogenous elite with status were powerful. Moreover, they were ready to use their power against the ruling elite. They demonstrated their ability to adapt to new conditions. Their role in the decision-making process was important, protected by esteemed semi-formal traditional institutions such as marriage and kinship. The merchant group controlled the labor force, the largest sector of Kuwaiti society. The basic contract between them and the rulers was very simple: The merchants agreed that the Emir would handle the daily affairs of the society, and that they would support him financially, provided that he consulted them on major decisions.12 In the political process the balance between the ruling family and the merchants was still the most important mechanism. Under pressure from merchants and some other actors, the ruling family had limited capacity to rule. The family had tried avoid the merchants’ influence through various means, among them that of British power. It was always on the lookout for opportunities to dissipate the merchants’ power, and the latter were fully aware of this. As Kuwait lacked the crucial institution of modern statehood, that is, “citizenship,” there was no territorial or national unity among its people. Instead, there were different groups with different backgrounds. The political process was led by traditional alliances among different actors. Except for the ruler–merchant interaction, the rest of society was organized according to tribal patterns.13 But there was tension in the latter, for the settled and the tribal lifestyles were to some extent in competition. Before the rise of new economic modes such as regional trade, pearling and fishing had been the earliest forms of transition from nomadic to sedentary life. Yet it remained difficult to discipline the local Bedouin to consolidate and merge under a central authority. The tribal people were obsessed with worries that every development aimed to end or restrict their free way of life. The situation changed radically with the oil boom. It gave the rulers an unprecedented opportunity to rescue themselves from the merchants and other traditional actors. Huge oil revenue created a unique space in which the rulers could operate almost freely. This space was insulated from social responses. In fact, the rulers had already become keen on rapid and radical change after their experiences during the 1938 Majlis Movement. The rise of the merchant class as a very strong actor in the Movement was incentive for them to radically eradicate the political power game of merchants. Merchant opposition was a response to this, and their uprising had shown how unreliable they were.14 The historical mechanism between the rulers and the merchants was both flexible and unreliable. It did not have a fixed institutional basis. Therefore, not only the oil boom but also the fact that the merchants had profited from the Majlis Movement were important reasons for the drastic transformation of the Kuwaiti political system in a short time. With the help of oil revenues,

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the ruling family began to reorganize the political configuration through several programs. They started a new program of land allocation (The Land Acquisition Policy), which had the exclusive aim of enhancing their own status.15 The rulers’ land reform plan was not accidental, since it was the most radical instrument in creating a new pattern of politics in a defined area. Political reform has always been accompanied in many states with new land tenure systems. The effort to reform the basis of land ownership continued during the following decades. Many Middle Eastern countries such as Egypt, Syria, Iraq, and Iran have undergone various land reform agendas. Most land reforms should be interpreted as property redistribution. But the political will that underpins land reform is another matter. As Horowitz says, safe land reform is possible when there is an imbalance between material endowments and strategic capabilities. However, land reform may also sow the seed of future imbalance.16 The over-politicization of land reform may make it potentially problematic for some groups. From this perspective, it has to be acknowledged that the Kuwaiti Land Acquisition Policy was over-politicized. The ruling elite established new administrative posts to be allocated to members of the ruling family. The new central apparatus of government was adapted to the inter-family hierarchy. In other words, the traditional hierarchy of the ruling family was dressed up as a new administrative structure. With this new structure the family managed to weaken the traditional influence of the merchants. At the core of the new system was the transfer of public revenue to the private and other sectors. The new economic conditions helped the rulers carry out administrative reforms with a view to centralization. Having completed administrative reforms, the rulers moved quickly to end the historical dominance of merchants. Given the huge oil revenues, they could now dispense with the merchants. As a British officer put it, oil revenues helped the ruling family put an end to “medieval society” in Kuwait.17 Consequently, the traditional ruling-class/merchant contract ended. The rulers declared themselves the ultimate autonomous actors. However, remembering that the territorial state precept was already injected into Kuwait before the oil boom, the sudden transformation interrupted the course of state formation. In the new model, the rulers no longer needed the financial and political support of the merchants. Next, the ruling elite abolished institutions established during the Majlis Movement, including the various municipal organs. Professional corporations were also doomed. For instance, the Supreme Council canceled merchant membership. As expected, this paved the way for a decline in merchants’ economic status. The transition to oil was accomplished through a tacit agreement between the rulers and the merchant families. That agreement traded formal power for wealth. In exchange for receiving a sizable portion of oil revenues, the merchants renounced their historical claim to a right to participate in decision-making. It was an important policy of the ruling family to create a new elite. This was effected in a variety of ways. First, the redistribution of oil revenues

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bought the support of the poorer people. The new social welfare programs worked especially well in gaining their support, for the oil boom introduced unprecedented social services such as new schools, hospitals, roads, water, and electricity. Areas characterized by poverty and isolation from the outside world, and the simpler communities based on traditional economies such as trade, fishing, pearling, farming, and pastoral pursuits, became welfare societies.18 Naturally, such a distribution policy led to bypassing of tribal intermediaries. A new policy of state-based employment became the essential pillar of the new politics. The regime aimed to create a loyal class with these policies. But this loyal class is a mixture of different societal groups. The success of the new policies in abolishing tribal traditions was very limited, and the rulers could not overturn tribalism. Therefore, the new political agenda created a new, but not completely different, configuration in which certain groupings reflecting the old patterns had survived: (i) the ruling family/the people; (ii) the merchants/the people; (iii) the Kuwaitis/the expatriates. Since such binaries worked to their advantage, the ruling elite were to a large degree satisfied with what they had done. In the model they had constructed, the merchants had been bought by the state in exchange for their new and guaranteed economic position. In the meantime, the ruling family started distributing oil revenues through several financial and investment contacts with traditional merchant families. Having lost their traditional positions, the merchants reemerged as the new contractors.19 The contractor role ensured their loyalty. Soon enough, the merchants discovered the new rules of the game and started to manipulate them to gain stronger positions. For example, they were successful at using the new land code, which caused a significant transfer of revenue from the state to large portions of society, especially the merchants. The new land code practically became an opportunity for merchants to get back what they had lost. The new code increased their influence all over the country, as formal land title (proprietorship) was extended to the surrounding desert during the late 1940s and 1950s. The government bought land from the traditional families in order to sell to new private buyers. Moreover, and as a very critical fact, the government distributed oil revenue in parallel with the new land program. Between 1957 and 1962 , close to US$840 million was spent on land.20 The merchants used state-originated funds in different projects, including land purchase.21 Such developments helped old families reemerge as new actors within the limits of the political game. The merchants’ recovery and adaptation was not slow, but it was less a complete recovery than a compensation. Nevertheless, the dramatic changes in Kuwait could not construct a system that was totally modern. Underneath the modern structures, the old political order has remained largely untouched.22 The developments in the post-oil era paved the way for an interesting amalgamation. Since then, political life in Kuwait has been oscillating between tribal authoritarianism and oligarchic republicanism.23 The rise of oil money completely liberated

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the rulers from any kind of dependence on other social actors. Not only the merchants but also the Kuwaiti people had been bought off by their rulers. Thus, the oil era created a period in which the balance between people and state was protected by financial principles. This model is not like the Westerntype relationship between state and society. Instead, it is a one-dimensional model in which the state is ultimately free from societal pressure. This state model aims to protect its boundaries by its oil-revenue distribution policy. Social groups, in exchange for state-based opportunities, stay loyal to the government. Many institutions are yet to be consolidated and therefore a guided democratization is preferred to this model. As expected of hybrid-sovereign states, there is reliance on several typical principles: First, as it is a guided construction, it is always open to manipulation by the rulers in the name of protecting the traditional balance/stability in the country. Second, as the state institutions are artificial, this is, as Al-Najjar says, a mathematical game rather than a political one.24 A collection of constitutiencies rather than a nation, the constituents find themselves in enmeshed in endless political bargain over their interests. This brings us to the problem of the social contract in rentier states. In social contract theory, political obligations arise from an agreement among people to form a society. The consent of the individual to the terms of that agreement is assumed. However, the individual-consent component of the enduring social contract is at most notional, for the individual is not a stand-alone party to that contract. But it nevertheless binds him as a member of a society. In any case, the social contract binds all when the contracting parties are the state and its citizens. In the Kuwaiti case, a different social contract prevails. It is one that internalizes the hybrid by incorporating certain primordial patterns into the modern-state format. It therefore limits the consolidation of several basic state–society boundaries, and thereby threatens a breach of the contract. For one thing, the hybrid social contract does not bind on secure terms: The state, not in disciplinarian’s robes, appears as the Weberian vulgar actor. Second, the contractual space is not equal to the demographic space. So the contract fails to include all people. The contractual space refers to the sum of citizens, whereas the demographic space refers to all people living within the homeland. The rest, who are virtually not respected as citizens but are still in the demographic space, are a matter of concern. If the gap is abnormally large, it is taken as a clear sign that proves the weakness of the contract. Since states can operate on two different contracts, the gap between the contractual and demographic spaces has to be so narrow that it does not threaten the validity of the contract. The gap in the Kuwaiti case is abnormally wide, since more than half the population is not covered by the contractual space. Finally, the contract in Kuwait refers simultaneously to different patterns: in practice, the contract is multilayered. For instance, it recognizes both citizenship and tribal bonds. This model has the façade of a modern state: a

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façade that is protected by oil money. The central government buys the loyalty of its citizens in exchange for economic interests and status. The Kuwait of the oil era provides its citizens with a cradle-to-grave welfare system unequaled anywhere in the world.25 Indeed, many articles of the Constitution refer to the embedded welfare-state tradition in Kuwait, and reinforce the social, economic, and educational rights of the young and the old. Unlike many other modern constitutions, the Kuwaiti Constitution’s preamble (Articles 8, 9, 10, 11, 15, 16, 17, and 18) reads like the manifesto for a welfare society. Per capita income rose from US$50 in 1946 to US$18,000 in 1983. Also, many important commodities are duty free. The people pay no taxes: they are part of a special society that receives welfare benefits without contributing to them. Once such a contract emerges the state automatically appears as an allocation mechanism. In the past, bureaucratic growth came hot on the heels of the oil boom. As in many other Arab states, development was understood to be bureaucratization. Many new jobs were invented and existing ones were overstaffed. Thus a huge bureaucratic machine was inevitable, for oil revenues became the motor of the social contract. However, the term “bureaucracy” in this context assumes negative overtones. That is, it did not conform to Weber’s theory of the nature of a bureaucracy. According to Weber, a bureaucracy is characterized by properties such as “standardized procedure” and “impersonal relationship” and “rational and efficient organizing mechanisms.” “Charismatic domination” and “traditional domination” are its antithetical properties. Kuwaiti bureaucracy burdens the modern bureaucracy format with de facto traditional domination. As in other hybrid-sovereign states, in Kuwait, personal relationships continue to take precedence over objective work relations. Yet it is the latter, not the former, that the Weberian bureaucracy is competent to organize. So when Kuwaiti favoritism, a boon of the tribal network, becomes influential in the bureaucratic procedure, bureaucratic efficiency is compromised.26 Since the allocation mechanism is the basic pillar of the social contract, how many people are employed and on what conditions they are employed are sensitive issues. In fact, the bureaucratic cadre is the living body of the allocation mechanism. Excessively manned administrative units came into being during the early 1950s. Gradually, state employment became a pillar of the regime. Government employees in 1963 numbered 22,073. By 1975, government employees represented 12.5 percent of the population. In the same year, they represented 34 percent of the total workforce, which in terms of numbers, 145,451, was the same in 1980.27 Thus, state employees are the personification of the transmission, of the allocating mechanism, and finally, of the rentier social contract. In this set-up, state-based employment and loyalty buying are the normal directions of government expenditure. The affluence that enabled this became the sole base for the regime’s legitimacy.

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STATE

Distribution of Rent

No Contract

SOCIETY Figure 3.1 State–society relations in rentier states.28

Inferences: (i) low citizen involvement in the political process; (ii) diminution of the public sphere and weak persuading space; (iii) low demand for accountability and transparency; (iv) instability due to weak state–society relations. As shown in figure 3.1, the rentier mentality produces several well-known structural consequences. This rentier state has had to depend on its oil revenue, which creates a dependency on the international system. A rentier state, in order to buy people’s loyalty, refrains from imposing complex taxes. As noted earlier, the social contract does not bind the state. However, in the rentier model one can isolate the fact that the state cannot impose complex taxing for negative binding: The state lives with a very simple, underdeveloped domestic taxation system. This system has been used neither as a source of major income nor as a tool to influence production, employment, prices, or the distribution of income.29 The logic of taxation is bound up with government’s ability to control its citizens. The act of paying tax is by no means voluntary. Instead, it is an expression of the state’s capacity to impose specific economic action on its citizens. Taxation capacity is thus linked to the capacity for statehood. States can be differentiated by comparing their taxation systems. The tax systems of developed and developing countries evolve differently. Developed countries had succeeded in establishing the institutions necessary for the direct taxation of the majority of the adult population during the first half of the twentieth century. Consequently, in the late 1990s they were able to raise 17.35 percent of their GDP through taxes on income and social security. The equivalent figure for all developing countries was 3.38 percent. More precisely, direct taxes accounted for 88 percent of tax revenue in the United States (1983), 73 percent in Japan (1985), and 57.2 percent in the

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United Kingdom (1983).30 As a general rule in Kuwait, individuals are not subject to taxes on income.31 In Kuwait, the government levies no income, corporate, or direct taxes. Even though there was an attempt to modify the taxation system, the main source of governmental income is still from indirect taxes.32 There are several obstacles to establishing the institutions necessary for the direct taxation of the majority of the adult population. First, a modern taxation system necessitates a strong middle class on which the system can be built. Apart from the difficulty of creating a middle class, the government is skeptical about the wisdom of doing so. A middle class has as its corollary economic and political independence. A new middle class in Kuwait may put at risk the privileges of the ruling elite, as the enlargement of the tax base will inevitably enhance the role of civil society. For instance, the Souk al-Manakh (the unofficial stock exchange market) crisis of 1982 confirmed the worries of the ruling elite that a market-based system may endanger their position.33 Even though certain legal arrangements were in place earlier, it was only in 1977 that the first stock market was officially opened. However, the unofficial stock market, the Souk Al-Manakh, managed in the following three years to overpower the official one as a parallel stock exchange market.34 In 1979, the Souk became a huge but totally unregulated complex. Its ability to overpower the official stock market was due to a great extent to the restrictive-economy policies of the political regime. The strict regulations of the official market discouraged investors, and they favored the unofficial market, which was organized more along the lines of a free market. Faced with the restrictions of the official market, investors headed for the parallel one. But, when certain bans on futures trading were relaxed in 1981, both the official and parallel markets rose sharply. However, the economic sector could not keep up with the prices, and the market collapsed.35 Several political signals scared the state elite as much as the cost of such an unprecedented economic collapse. Most of the major shareholders in the Souk were from older families. Thus, in the regime’s view, the Souk was paving the way for old actors to regain their uncontrollable power of yore. The ruling elite were fully aware that only a state-based model can protect the interests of the Kuwaiti monarchy and the traditional families in cohorts with it. Having noted the symbolic meaning of the Souk collapse, they focused on a new distribution mechanism that contemplated a new taxation agenda. However, wealth was concentrated in a small segment of the population, and that segment opposed new taxation programs. Merchant families wanted to improve their maneuverability, but they were not prepared to accept a narrowing of their autonomy by the ruling elite. From figure 3.2 we can make the following inferences: (i) high citizen involvement in political process; (ii) an environment for a strong civil society; (iii) greater accountability; (iv) accountability through strong state–society ties.

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STATE GOV. EXPENDITURES AND REDISTRIBUTION

EXTRACTIONS AND TAXES

SOCIAL CONTRACT

SOCIETY

Figure 3.2 State–society relations: the modern state.

Examined closely, the rentier model betrays certain shortcomings of institutions at the state–society level. The most important result of a rentier contract is the failure of citizenship. Besides, the model permits the employment of certain primordial formats such as cliency and tribalism. Citizens in the cliency model cannot exist without the assistance of the government. But cliency occurs mostly in the tribal logic. Merchant families operate on the cliency model as collective actors. They must always be wary of unexpected oscillations. In this sense, merchants’ vigilance defines the margins of the political system. Their first fear is how oil revenues might affect their ability to counter the emir’s authority. Their second worry is whether they can perpetuate their historical control over the labor sector.36 At ordinary-people level, the rentier system is a failure as forger of balanced relations between people and state. On this model, citizenship is a formal and economic status that does not guarantee important political and legal rights. Instead of being a universal citizenship, rentier citizenship resembles medieval subjugation. The rentier mentality of another’s guarantee of obedience effects a break in the work–reward dynamic. Reward (income and wealth) is not the outcome of work effort and risk bearing; it is the outcome of chance or personal situation. For a rentier, reward is an isolated fact, situational or accidental. This is quite unlike the conventional concept of reward, which is the fruit of a long, systematic, and organized production circuit.37 Thus, rentier states will inevitably remain as agents for allocating unearned income.38 As Beblawi says, Schumpeter’s dynamic, innovative, risk-bearing entrepreneur is the antithesis of the rentier. A rentier is, thus, more a social functionary than an economic actor, and is perceived as a member of a special group. Though he does not participate actively in economic production, he nevertheless receives a share in the produce, at times a handsome share.39

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Most tellingly, the vast oil revenue that the governments of rentier states receive has very little to do with the productive effort of the community as a whole. Rentier mentality establishes a broad coalition among state, domestic actors, and an international economic system.40 A risk-bearing class such as the middle class/ bourgeoisie would be considered a risky social segment for the ruling groups. There is no reason for discomfort about those who enjoy the munificence of full citizenship of Kuwait. In practice, this is nothing other than traditional bonds presented in a new guise. The government has not refrained from “medieval” courses of action. It plays one group off against another, for instance, the Shi’a against the Sunni, informally shifting its alliances opportunistically, such as when the Iranian influence emerged as a threat. The policy of shifting alliances works mainly through the tribe, which is still the major political unit. Tribal affairs are the epitome of timelessness and changelessness. That is why it is somehow easy for tribes to adapt to structural change. Part of the motive of the policy of shifting alliances is to counter-balance the influence of pan-Arab nationalism: the regime seeks alliance with passive, non-radical, and nonpolitical Islamic forces. Recognition of the religious bond as a political factor weakens the clout of citizenship during politically sensitive periods. According to Ghabra, a model in which the government gives ascendancy to some groups at the expense of others is pluralistic corporatism.41 Corporatism has forms such as co-optation, cliency, pitting one tribe against another. The state’s ultimate aim is to protect, and if possible enhance, its authority. Corporations regulate their intra-corporate relations on the basis of competition, which may oscillate between equality and hierarchy. But intra-corpus affairs are totally authoritarian. The corpus disciplines its members. In the Kuwaiti case, a corpus is the tribe, sectarian group, or family. Remembering Schmitter’s conventional classification, Kuwaiti corporatism should be differentiated from the societal corporatism of democratic societies.42 What exists in Kuwait is a style of state corporatism that is typical of authoritarian societies. But, as it was noted above, this Kuwaiti style of corporatism supports the tribe/corpus rather than the citizen as the basic political unit. Therefore, even though the contract shelters citizenship, different corpuses emerge as the real units of interaction between state and society in Kuwait. However, this model has often been damaged by both domestic and external developments. It has mostly been the political and ideological activity of different groups that have jeopardized the social balance. Thus, the government regards opposition, whether from parliament or from the associational groups, as a challenge, and it feels that further political concessions might undermine traditional rule.43 The system has a very limited mechanism for popular representation. Kuwaiti law prohibits political parties. The explanation usually given is that in a tribe-based society with many social divisions (Sunni/Shi’a, tribal/town, etc.) political parties would be a divisive factor. Nevertheless, most candidates are identified in terms of their community of origin, for instance,

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“Bedouin.”44 In daily politics, functional parties, or something very like them, have emerged to reflect political tendencies such as Arab nationalism or Islamist politics. But this model creates a constituency-based, rather than a citizenship-based, model. In the past, as it happened in 1918, 1920, and 1930, there were several organized movements demanding political participation. But all these movements were typical merchant movements. And they failed to transform the old system. It was only after 1950 that popular opposition in the form of mass movements began. The role of expatriates was important in this shift. Along with educated young people, expatriate groups from Lebanon, Iran, Egypt, and Palestine joined popular opposition movements. Their participation introduced new actors: the dedicated and articulate intelligentsia who included both Kuwaiti and Arab nationalists, and the oil workers who had joined the recently formed labor force.45 Kuwait’s first National Assembly was elected in 1963, and subsequent elections were held in 1967, 1971, and 1975. The Assembly was suspended between 1976 and 1981. After the elections of 1981 and 1985, the National Assembly was again dissolved. Fulfilling a promise made during the period of Iraqi occupation, the emir held new elections for the National Assembly in 1992. But he again dissolved the National Assembly on May 4, 1999. The next elections were held on July 3, 1999, and the most recent one in 2006. Despite several handicaps, Kuwait’s political system is the most open among the Gulf Cooperation Council states, and throughout its entire history, the country has had a parliamentary life and a competitive election system.46 However, due to structural and political weakness, the efficiency of parliament is limited. Even so, and although the emir has the final word on most government policies, the National Assembly plays a real decisionmaking role, and has powers to initiate legislation, question government ministers, and introduce no-confidence motions against individual ministers. Thus, there is a competition-based game between the parliament and the ruler. The Assembly has emerged often as a relatively strong political actor. For example, in May 1999, the emir issued several landmark decrees dealing with women’s suffrage, economic liberalization, and nationality. The National Assembly later rejected all these decrees as a matter of principle, and then reintroduced most of them as parliamentary legislation. In 1985, a severe corruption scandal forced the resignation of the minister of Justice. The minister had been accused of using his position as cabinet minister and member of the ruling family for personal gain. Eventually, he admitted that he did obtain money unlawfully from a special government fund. But when the assembly went in pursuit of another minister, the ruling family refused to tolerate this second challenge, and the Assembly was dissolved in 1986. Moreover, a general press censorship was set in motion. This helped maintain the balance between the ruling family and the Assembly.47 As these incidents show, modern Kuwaiti political history has largely been a contest between the ruling family, the Al Sabah, and the elected

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parliamentarians—a contest usually won by the emir.48 However, the parliament quickly becomes an active player when the political setting is supportive. Another forced resignation of a minister occurred in 2005, when the minister for Health had to leave office. The ultimate example of parliamentary power was, as noted at the beginning of this chapter, the deposition in 2006, for medical reasons, of the head of state. But the ruling regime still prevails: the Parliament can operate only within permitted limits. The rentier structure produces several other typical sovereignty crises: Electoral engineering has always been part of the parliamentary experience. It is a typical substitution mechanism that shows up sovereignty crisis. In sharp opposition to the philosophy of citizenship, hybrid-state sovereigns devise electoral policies to pit one group of citizens against another. In 1981, the emir reorganized the country’s electoral districts to increase the number of rural or tribal representatives in the parliament. This was done to contain the looming threat from the nascent, urban middle class. The emir gerrymandered to the advantage of a certain constitutiency to reduce the voting strength of the working classes. This eventually led to a significant increase of tribal representatives in Parliament. No doubt, the tribal traditionalists who benefited politically from the revision of electoral boundaries were among the strongest supporters of the regime.49 They were also its chief economic beneficiaries. Bearing in mind the vital role of rentierism, the rulers are reluctant to sanction rapid liberalization. Kuwait faces the renowned dilemma of big bang or gradualism. Since rentier states are extremely skeptical about quick and radical reform programs, they plead for reform measures that will take effect over a long period. This would ease the pain of the adjustment process and allow time to develop a political consensus in support of the program, and thus make it more politically sustainable. In any case, attempts at cutting subsidies had been quite inept, and most such instances triggered popular riots that the regime perceived as a serious menace. Given to a gradualist perspective, the Kuwaiti rulers have favored a mixture of guided pluralism, controlled elections, and selective repression.50 In the process of guided liberalization, the relationship between oil and state-ness presumes a monopolist rule in the oil industry. Though private firms have been awarded contracts in related fields, no private firm can have a vital role in the oil industry. Kuwait’s dependence on oil created an axiom: The government must protect its key role in the sector. Even “privatization” has taken on a singular meaning, here. Privatization plans are in no way like those of the West. Instead, there is subsidized privatization, a kind of intermediate step between direct state intervention and pure market activity.51 Iliya Harik’s formula might be helpful here: the patron state. Normally, privatization is, by definition, the ceding of state property rights to the private sector. In Kuwait there is no equivalent of the “state exit” from an economic realm where it had been the representative of the public; the state retains proprietary rights in practically every economic activity in its jurisdiction, regardless of how much of that activity is undertaken by

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individuals or collectives.52 Beyond being the custodian of public property rights, the patron state develops extra claims of its own. As is typical of antidemocratic systems, the patron state does not like the kind of market-based strategy in which power can devolve to individuals and groups not always aligned with the state. Such devolution of power challenges the privileged classes and minorities, who are crucial to the survival of the regime.53 Another very important issue is whether privatization is accompanied by complex liberalization policies. Without liberalization policies that see the state give up business interests and economic pursuits, privatization alone does not constitute a major change. Even though some form of privatization is on the agenda, there is broad debate over what form it should take in Kuwait.54 The ruling elite’s worries are understandable, since uncontrolled liberalization can put at risk the economic component of the existing social contract. It might not be possible to deploy substation policies if a radical liberalization agenda hits the existing structure. The social contract in Kuwait seems to be a very complex, if not complicated, mechanism in which all actors have to operate according to fuzzy rules and codes. In such a model, actors lose trust in one another, and a system-wide skepticism prevails. Moreover, the power hierarchy is never challenged, for system-originated opportunities are indispensable to those who occupy its upper reaches.

Foreign Policy and Rentierism Kuwait’s unique situation necessitates an analysis of rentierism in the foreign-policy context. Even though the concern of this work is to study sovereignty in terms of state–society boundaries, the unique role of economic facts in foreign policy requires a short analysis. Kuwait has used its oil revenues to protect its international legal sovereignty. Given the enormous hindrances and problems of such a tiny state, there must be a strong and functioning mechanism to protect sovereignty in an anarchic system. How much can a small state do by itself to ensure its own sovereignty?55 Or, how can a small state establish a balance between a hostile environment and its interests? Speaking pragmatically, one must acknowledge that Kuwait is a city-state with a small population. Its domestic resources are very limited. Even though there is a welfare state in terms of per capita income, and bearing in mind the anarchic international and regional system, Kuwait’s maneuverability is not high. Historical evidence confirms Kuwait’s vulnerability to foreign developments. In 1961, on independence from Britain, Iraq immediately announced that Kuwait was to be regarded as part of the province of Basra. Ever since, the government has sought to protect its sovereignty from domestic and external threats.56 Therefore, the state’s most important security strategy has been to satisfy both domestic and external actors. According to Mary Tetreault, “cliency in foreign policy” best describes the Kuwaiti predicament.57 Cliency obtains in the strategic relationship between a strong state

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and a weak one. When a weak state faces a strong state (or environment), a cliency-based relationship comes into being. For Gasiorowski, cliency is characterized by a: . . . reciprocal exchange of goods and services between the patron and client governments that serves to enhance the security of the two countries and cannot easily be obtained by them from other sources. The importance of the goods and services to the security of the patron and the client . . . binds the two governments together in a cooperative, mutually beneficial relationship.58

In other words, as one side is too weak to sustain its sovereignty with its own leverage, it cannot dispense with the help of other actors. Tetreault’s explanation relies on a traditional Weberian perspective. As is often said, the state has a monopoly on the legitimate use of physical force, but states such as Kuwait are limited by domestic and external facts. When a state is limited by such facts, a cliency-based relationship with any other actor(s) might be logical in the long run. When British protection ended, oil was immediately substituted for cliency. In the pre-oil era, British colonial rule had protected Kuwait from regional threats. But, in the post-British era, oil had to become the instrument for protecting sovereignty. In the words of Tetreault: If the primary domestic goal of cliency was to acquire instruments enabling the government to meet domestic demands with a minimal loss of autonomy, oil was even more useful than cliency for obtaining such instruments. Oil revenues not only enabled the ruler to buy off domestic elites quite openly and to retain his independence from domestic society as the source of state income.59

Since Abdullah Salim’s reign (1950–1965), it has been official policy to seek outside support for an independent Kuwait through foreign aid. The oil-sovereignty line initiated a variety of foreign-aid programs and foreign direct investment schemes.60 Kuwait became an important financier of activities such as those related to the Palestinian problem. In May 2004, Kuwait’s foreign minister announced that his country’s expenditure on foreign aid had been a hundred times greater than its expenditure on defense, and that it had allocated a large part of the GDP in the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states to foreign aid. He added that extending aid was his country’s way of warding off evils that may come its way.61 The diversion of oil revenues into foreign-aid projects contributed to the legitimacy of Kuwait as a sovereign state. However, Kuwait’s generosity should be seen as a result of her relationship with the international capitalist system through the oil trade. Kuwait’s demand for protection from the international capitalist system through the oil trade gives it the status of assistant to weak states in the region. This concept of cliency is another version of the neocolonial link between the former colonizer and the colonized.62 Accordingly, even though formal colonial rule had ended, the state’s

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dependency on the international system couples economic dependence with political independence. Thus, the change is only one of form. In the past, foreign powers such as Britain and the United States have always played important roles. And of course, it should not be forgotten that Kuwait was created by colonial powers and rescued from Iraqi occupation by Western powers. An interview with Kuwaiti foreign minister Sheikh M. Sabah al-Salim in May 2004 gave an account of how “the system” is essential for Kuwait. According to the minister, “Kuwait’s strategy is essentially built on three pillars.”63 These three pillars are: “boosting the internal capabilities for defending the country . . . our fundamental dependence on our brothers . . . our cooperation with big powers.” Aware of his country’s limitations, the minister added that “the shortage of human resources” is the major reason for the complex foreign-affairs strategy. In 2001, asked whether Kuwait was ready to fend off foreign aggression, the minister had replied: I can proudly say that Kuwait is ready to defend itself according to the defense strategy it has drawn up for itself. This means reliance on our own resources and then on the other supporting links as represented by our brothers in the GCC, our Arab brothers, and our friends and allies with whom we have defense cooperation agreements.64

This complex formula truly represents the dependency relationship between Kuwait and the international system. All the same, the minister’s discourse paints a rather idealistic picture of that system. This picture has it that a state can simultaneously maximize its internal capabilities and cooperate with the Big Powers. The invasion of Kuwait by Iraq was sufficient to show the weakness of such idealism. At this point, the question must arise: Which of the cited pillars is the most important? In the same interview, the foreign minister had underlined that “Kuwait’s philosophy and policy relies essentially on our brothers.” Several reasons can be advanced to explain Kuwait’s need to rely on the Arab regional system: First, Kuwaiti rulers have to be mindful of domestic reactions to their foreign policy. Even though their loyalists had welcomed American military aid, they continued to consider the people of Iraq as an important part of the Arab brotherhood. The Kuwaiti population is still part of the transnational demographic space of Islam and Arab-ness. Whatever their forms, transnational ideas tend to remain influential. The interest of Iraqi public in these transnational spaces is visible in the media. The Kuwaiti press often carries articles calling for the transfer of sovereignty to the Iraqi people as soon as possible. For example, Adnan al-Sayyid Husayn, a university professor, published an article in Al-Ra’y Al-Amm in which he called for a quick restoration of Iraqi sovereignty. Similarly, Khalid al-Sa’ad, a journalist from Kuwait Al-Siyasah, blames the United States for bypassing the UN and invading Iraq in the interest of the Zionist entity.65 Sentiments along these lines are common in the press.

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Second, Kuwaiti rulers have certain fears of the Arab community because of their fundamental commitment to cooperation with Western powers.66 Other Arab states have frequently called for good dialogue between Iraq and Kuwait. Even though it had to rely on American military aid to protect itself, Kuwait now realizes how difficult it is to remain reliant on such aid. Since a peaceful regional system can help Kuwait, it plies a balanced foreign policy. For example, before the recent American occupation, the Kuwaiti information minister said that even though Kuwait shared the world community’s desire for peace, security, and stability in the region, Kuwait had never wished for armed conflict there. It had preferred a UN-based solution.67 The difficulty of simultaneous peaceful relations with the United States and the Arab states is now being experienced in Kuwait. Economic factors are very important in Kuwaiti foreign policy. Kuwait has to balance domestic and external facts in order to protect its sovereignty. Lacking certain substantial elements of modern statehood, and being a colonial artifact created by external actors, Kuwait still constructs its sovereignty in a framework where the points of reference are largely external facts. In view of the limitations of its nation building and military power, the use of international mechanisms seems a necessary alternative. The importance of external facts was reaffirmed during the Iraqi invasion. Kuwait needs to create a safe haven through donations of oil money to the region. Yet paradoxically, the strong link between its economy and foreign policy perpetuates the vulnerability of Kuwait’s sovereignty: A change in the international oil economy directly affects the formulation of economic policies in Kuwait.68

The Problem of Defining People: Domestic Sovereignty Crises Apart from the difficulties of creating a citizenship-based link between people and state, Kuwait has faced several other serious problems. One is the presence of a large number of foreign workers. Since the oil boom, foreign workers have migrated to this tiny state. This inevitably destroyed the demographic balance. Furthermore, due to its colonial background, Kuwait has the problem of the bidun. As a typical colonial case, the bidun have been living in Kuwait without citizenship and in very poor conditions for many generations. Without a doubt, these two categories, the bidun and the citizens, have seriously limited Kuwait’s ability to consolidate its sovereignty. Once the citizenship link with the majority of the population fails, efforts to construct a Weberian authority model are met with great difficulty. The numeric dominance of non-citizens forces the government to resort to irregular methods to protect its authority. Yet the non-citizens are important in foreign policy: It became obvious once again during the Gulf War that different groups might have different loyalties. The problem that arises is how the domestic authority of the state might be asserted without upsetting a social balance that has to be mindful of people without

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Citizens

State

Expatriates

[A2] Use of force

Bidun [A3] Population policy + cliency + segregation policies Figure 3.3 Different constituencies, different identities.

citizenship. The solution is this: The state develops different institutions/ relations with the bidun and the citizens. Figure 3.3 illustrates the complexity of this model. As shown in figure 3.3, there are different groups in Kuwait and the state has different ways of dealing with them. It shows also that the contractual space of citizenship cannot completely cover the “total population” demographic space. The gap is bridged by other institutions, and this weakens modern statehood. Pragmatically this means that there is no functioning citizenship to regulate the whole political process and all parts of society. Rather than being equality-based, Kuwaiti society has the appearance of a big family that accommodates a multilevel hierarchy with the ruler at its head.69 As expected in such a hierarchical system, not the person, that is, citizen, but the larger units such as family, tribe, sect, and the ruling dynasty become the main political units. Therefore, the idea of pluralism in the Kuwaiti social contract depends on a framework of institutions, not of individuals. This contract has a Rousseau flavor of collectivist, or holistic, logic. Its tacit assumption is that the group (tribe or traditional unit) is the best minder of its members, for the individual (the egoist) may easily err. As figure 3.3 indicates, citizenship as an all encompassing frame does not exist in this collectivist model. Instead, different forms prevail. In other words, citizenship is not the only institution/relationship between state and citizens: ●

[A1]: Tribal/traditional methods are used in dealing with the traditional merchant groups, which puts the Shi’a citizens at risk.

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[A2] and [A3]: Violence, targeted population policy, and buying citizens’ loyalty deals with expatriates and the bidun.

Most attention grabbing is that these practices are embedded into the format of a Western-injected model, the modern territorial state. What we have here is an eccentric model that seems to operate on a mathematical formula rather than as a political process.70 Such procedural complexity always produces structural limits. Figure 3.3 shows also that, as in many other colonial creations, there is a multiplicity of constituencies in Kuwait: citizens, the bidun, the tribes, the Shi’a, the foreign workers, the merchants, the Bedouin, women, and naturalized Kuwaitis. It is not incorrect to define women as another constituency, since they are deprived of many rights. Their status is defined by both law and traditions. Tradition is allowed to regulate most matters that pertain to them.71 As Joseph notes, citizenship has been gendered from the very beginning of the modern state in the Middle East.72 The modern states of the region reflect the masculine character of local traditions. These various societal groups are relevant to the political process because political organizations and movements have traditionally built their power bases on religious, ethnic, and tribal identification and social position.73 Although these constituencies are in the same political system, they are different from one another in many respects. These differences account for why local methods prevail in these societies over neutral institutions such as citizenship. Ghabra explains this as follows: In transitional societies, in particular, the relations between the state and society are complex. On the one hand, the state seeks to remain independent from internal social forces; on the other, those forces, which include the tribe, family, sect, region, and class, compete for control over state resources and power.74

This structure produces a parallel political model of different groups dealing with government for different purposes. The cohabitation of formal and informal groups (class, urban, tribal, Islamic) based on various types of affiliations is a major concern for the government. Each group operates according to a different set of devotional values. Playing off one group against another becomes a frequent strategy of government. This necessitates modus operandi other than citizenship if the boundary between the state and the people is to remain protected. But unlike citizenship, such other methods are not neutral; they inevitably cause further discrimination or increase the need for playing off one group against another. That is the modus that makes discrete alliances with the various constituencies. As briefly noted above, perfect equality of treatment does not obtain even for citizens: witness the treatment of the traditional merchant families of Sunni-tribal origin. Indeed, they enjoy a more favored citizenship than do the citizens of other sectarian or ethnic origin. But citizenship does not

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correspond to religious sect either. There are first-class citizens who are either Sunni or Shi’a.75 First-class citizenship, a category recognized under the First Article of the 1959 Citizenship Law, remained in existence until 1996. This category was reserved for people who could prove that their forebears had resided in Kuwait before 1920. Although this Article was repealed in 1996, it left a defined group of people whose heritage had for long years been the enjoyment of cumulated privileges. The Sunni origin of traditional merchant families and their dominating role in the “joint rule” with the rulers caused great concern for Shi’i citizens. Sunni families were markedly more privileged than Shi’i families. For instance, second-class citizens could not vote and could easily be stripped of their citizenship. First-class citizens had more social prestige. Undoubtedly, the chaotic citizenship regime originated from the colonial, territorial state formation. Injected by external actors, the Kuwaiti model has tried to solve the citizenship issue with administrative principles. However, as indicated by Maktabi and Ostfold, the establishment of citizenship has been an ongoing process since the formation of modern Kuwait.76 At the beginning citizenship codes were very fuzzy and composed of contending references such as family, Arabness, Islam. According to the 1948 decrees, the designation “the Kuwaitis” referred to the sum of certain groups. The attendant list named the ruling family first, then those whose families had been permanent residents of Kuwait since 1899, then their children and the children of Arab or Muslim fathers born in Kuwait.77 It is easy to see in the 1948 decrees the seeds of the existing corporatist model. Faced with demographic problems since its formation, Kuwait has developed a sophisticated population policy. The aim of this policy is to balance population composition so as to achieve an equal representation of Kuwaitis. The big immigrant group has been discriminated against in favor of Kuwaiti citizens. Population policy has not been a simple project; it was supported by complex five-year plans and official agendas.78 Successive governments have tried several formal national strategy plans. In the first five-year plan, the government intended to carry out several policies, such as encouraging the natural increase of Kuwaitis, controlling the growth of expatriates in terms of numbers, avoiding further naturalizations, and imposing a quota on the growth of each nationality: no nationality is to exceed a specified percentage of the number of Kuwaitis.79 The ultimate measure was the Long Terms Development Strategy (LTDS), which aimed to ensure that any expatriate entering the country was preselected and that his period of residence was determined on the basis of several parameters such as national security and preservation of national identity. In 1988, another LTDS was implemented as the framework for correcting population imbalance.80 Population plans retained their importance after the Iraqi invasion. Population policy by this time had become an inescapable necessity as a result of the reduction in financial resources caused by Iraqi-inflicted damage to the country’s oil wealth. It was at this time that the government officially

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declared for the first time its aim of attaining a 70 percent Kuwaiti population.81 In 1990, it unfolded a long-term plan with a target of 40 percent of original Kuwaiti population. Even the members of the ruling family, including the emir, did not refrain from declaring these plans publicly. However, this rapid development brought several deep crises, including the harassment and exclusion of non-citizens. The demographic problem in Kuwait necessitates an analysis of the expatriate and bidun population groups. Both groups are concrete samples of Kuwait’s problems in the effort to create a citizenry. Each group reveals the limits of sovereignty, and how the colonially wrought Western model is hybridized. The Expatriates The expatriate problem refers to the presence of one huge group of noncitizens: the citizens of other states who live in Kuwait. All societies include foreigners in some number. But, the unique problem in Kuwait is that the majority of its population is composed of foreigners. This poses three sorts of problem: the control of foreign nationals in the Kuwaiti jurisdiction; the management of foreign nationals’ disposition to the loyalty issue; and the maintenance of the balance between citizens and non-citizens that is essential in a rentier state. As figure 3.3 illustrates, the government tries to establish contact with all components of the population through a variety of contact practices. It has tried to solve the problems of each sector by creating a special model for each. Kuwait has long depended on foreign workers to provide the backbone of its labor force. There were many foreign workers in the region even before the oil era. But it was mainly after the oil boom that the unprecedented explosion in expatriate numbers occurred. Richards and Waterbury describe the Kuwait of that period as “. . . much oil and little of anything else, including people.”82 Attracting people from other areas had to become a government priority. Many Arabs from nearby states took up residence in Kuwait because of the prosperity brought by oil production after the 1940s. Large-scale immigration was the result of great development programs. The first mass state employment happened during this era. By 1962 there were 36,300 state employees, 46 percent of whom were Kuwaitis: one for every ten non-Kuwaiti residents.83 Between 1946 and 1957, a remarkable annual population growth of 9 percent was registered, and this grew to 16 percent by 1965. In 1946, the total population was estimated at around 90,000. By 1957, it had grown to 206,000. By 1965, expatriates outnumbered Kuwaitis. And by the mid-1980s it was estimated that of the country’s total population of 1.5 million, 60 percent were expatriates.84 Today, the number of foreign workers is no less than 75 percent of the total labor force (table 3.1). However, as a reaction to the rise of non-Kuwaitis, several strict nationality laws were introduced to protect the privileged position of Kuwaiti citizens.

Ku wa i t Table 3.1

Number Percentage

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The demographic structure of Kuwait, end 200585 Kuwaitis

Non-Kuwaitis

Total population

992,200 33.2

1, 998,000 66.8

2, 990,200 100

An early version of Kuwaiti territorial nationalism came to the fore in the 1950s. The rise of expatriate numbers and their political activism created a reactionary ideology among “original” Kuwaitis that gave voice to this political sentiment. According to it, “Kuwait belongs to the Kuwaitis first and foremost.”86 Actually, it was the growing number of expatriates that stirred up genuine labor politics. Faced with growing competition, the Kuwaiti worker became politicized.87 A nationalist economic approach soon emerged as a reflection of Kuwaiti nationalism. There came a decree, then, that all foreign firms must have Kuwaiti partners in order to operate in the country. An amendment to the Residence Law in 1975 created the legal obligation of kafala (guarantorship). This meant that anyone intending to engage in economic activity in Kuwait had to find a citizen al-kafil (guarantor). In the kafala system, 51 percent of business share has to be assigned to the kafil. The scope of the kafala system expanded in time to the point that it became obligatory even in simple business transactions. The kafala system gives citizens powerful leverage for managing noncitizens. The minimum 51 percent share of business enterprise is a condition with which big firms must also comply. Pursuant to a provision of the Law of Commercial Companies (1960), all industrial firms be at least 51 percent Kuwaiti owned. The same applied to banks and financial institutions. In consequence, the kafala appears as another major contractual relationship between two groups of people. Even though it was invented to keep expatriates in check, for citizens it quickly became a perfect instrument of economic gain. For example, the 1964 Kuwaiti Labor Law regulated the relationship between worker and employer but exempted the al-kafil arrangements.88 As another policy of protectionism, a nationalistic agenda was developed for the protection of the traditional merchant class. As part of this, the government began to implement new “Kuwaitization” plans to satisfy the native workers. As another reflection of territorial nationalism, and because state employment became an important opportunity, the reservation of government jobs for Kuwaiti citizens only quickly became a controversial issue. To protect state-based employment opportunity, a preferential treatment based on nationality was accepted as the better alternative to reservation. This was followed by plans that aimed to segregate Kuwaitis and non-Kuwaitis even in their daily-life pursuits. Al-Enezi’s findings confirmed that a consequence of state-based employment was that the labor market became segmented and labor was misallocated. A labor market in this condition is not sustainable in either the medium or the long term.89

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Competition over the state employment issue contributed also to the emergence of national consciousness in Kuwait. As a purely colonial creation, the idea of Kuwaiti citizenship owed its very existence to the much-cited discussions of state employment. The competition between citizens and expatriates has long been the only serious political split in the country. However, nationalistic economic policies caused the existence of overlapping constituencies rather than of a group of citizens. In appearance, Kuwaiti society has a medieval structure of constituencies in which legal, political, and economic status is hierarchically ordered. Even the relevant legal codes reflect this. A Western-type citizenship-based configuration was always absent from this picture. Finally, the distinction between Kuwaiti nationals and non-Kuwaiti nationals became the fundamental classification of the population. Article 29 of the Constitution provides that “all people are equal in human dignity and public rights irrespective of race, origin, language or religion.” But this principle is not discernible in reality in the political, commercial, and social life of Kuwaitis. The basis of Kuwait migration policies was laid between 1959 and 1964. Several important codes, such as the Aliens Residence Law, the Private Sector Labor Law, the Nationality Law, and the Law of Commercial Companies, form the basis of these policies.90 The laws regarding migration have been updated by several amendments of those codes. Kuwait, which was once dependent on the free flow of immigration, has gradually become very hard on immigrants. Several political developments effected major changes to immigration policy. The first series of limitations on immigration came out during the 1967 Arab-Israeli War. Also importantly, the rulers sometimes used immigration policy as an instrument to discipline their political opponents. For example, on the power of Article 5 of the Nationality Law, a large number of Bedouin tribes, people from Saudi Arabia, were granted citizenship. Not surprisingly, this mass naturalization corresponded with the parliamentary elections of 1967and the ruling elite tried to curb the rising opposition by using it. Indeed, it worked. At least one-third of parliamentary seats in 1971 were captured by the Bedouin block, and Parliament was ready to serve the royal family.91 The absence of universal citizenship helped the rulers impose stricter regulations. It is now almost impossible for an expatriate to obtain citizenship without a high-level decree in his favor. Laws were promulgated that restricted citizenship to those in the male line who had lived in Kuwait continuously since 1920 and to their descendants; naturalization was available only to a few dozen a year, and was possible only after a long period of residence (eight years for Arabs, fifteen years for the rest). Naturalization is not the only necessary qualification for many basic political rights, including voting. All naturalized people have been through a long waiting process. In 1948, two decrees were accepted as the legal basis for nationality. In spite of the new regulations on citizenship, there was popular discussion of how one might define “the original Kuwaiti.” As there has always been different ethnic and sectarian groups, all documents

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aimed to define the original Kuwaiti. In 1959, a new law aimed to present detailed criteria for the determination of the pertinent originality. It broadened the definition of originality to include the descendants of those in Kuwait since 1920. The 1959 regulation aimed mostly to validate the induction of Bedouins into citizenship. But naturalization was tightened for foreign workers. What is more, new regulations (e.g., the Civil Service Law of 1960) earmarked several posts and services exclusively for Kuwaitis, thereby restricting the economic and political capabilities of non-citizens. By so doing, citizenship turned out to be an economic status rather than a legal one. In a well-planned agenda with different social, legal, and economic reflections, the rulers developed three basic policies to balance threat from expatriates.92 First was the separation of Kuwaitis and expatriates through the preferential provisions of various laws. The central government forced even private firms to apply these preferential laws. In quest of quick results, the government determined the posts to which only Kuwaiti citizens were to be appointed. Under the supervision of a central body, all expatriates occupying these posts were relieved of their duties. Having weeded out the expatriates, the central government developed policies for controlling them. If an expatriate became involved with an opposition movement, the usual treatment was expulsion. Several laws were introduced to differentially control Kuwaiti and non-Kuwaiti labor. Accordingly, expatriate workers were afforded very few privileges. They were denied the right to organize strikes and the freedom to participate in workers’ union affairs. The 1982 and 1984 amendments to Kuwait’s residency and work permit regulations made it harder to import new labor.93 In general, the government deals with expatriates through cliency and population policy. Thus its task is to satiate the economy’s dependence on expatriates’ skills while curtailing their political involvement.94 This has very important consequences for the political system. Expatriates are by definition wage earners only; rents do not accrue to them because of restrictions on property and company-share ownership.95 Even long-term resident immigrants are totally excluded from political life. Many people are deemed to be without the level of authentic heritage that would qualify them to vote in state elections. The narrowness of the franchise is one issue often raised by critics of the Kuwaiti system. Because a majority of persons residing in Kuwait are expatriate workers, the franchise is limited to citizens, and to only a very precisely defined category. Until the 1996 elections, only Kuwaiti males over twenty-one years whose families had been in Kuwait prior to 1920 had voting rights. With the 1996 elections, the franchise was extended to males and their descendants who had become naturalized Kuwaitis at least thirty years previously. In the elections of 1992, the one after Kuwait won its independence from Iraqi occupation, the number of franchised people was 81,000. This number was only about 15 percent of the population.96

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The demographic structure contributes significantly to problems in both foreign-policy formation and domestic sovereignty. Because of its many resident expatriates, external developments have always impacted on Kuwait. It is a fact that it is less national loyalties than other type of network loyalties that engage expatriates. For instance, Nasserite tendencies and groups emerged in Kuwait during the 1950s. Arab expatriates were captivated by the Nasser message. In August 1956, in response to Nasser’s call for strikes, many took part in mass meetings. The timing of the event was attention-grabbing, as British protection was in decline in 1950. The British presence in Kuwait had isolated the country from regional and international influences for a long time. The decline of this protection exposed Kuwait to regional developments such as Nasserism. As a tiny state, Kuwait had no strong mechanism to protect its stability against such regional influences. Many points in the Nasserite ideology were direct threats to the Kuwaiti regime, as Nasser clearly attributed the Arab failure to “feudal monarchies.”97 But for Nasser that ideology was enthusiastically applauded as a manifestation of the rebirth of the Arab nation. Nasser’s rhetoric was cheered by both Kuwaiti and Egyptian workers employed in the country as teachers and technicians. The same tendency among Arab expatriates continued during the Arab unification projects. During 1959, many demonstrations occurred to support the union of Syria and Egypt. Of necessity, Kuwaiti rulers, faced with Arabist enthusiasm, proclaimed their solidarity with Arab national movements. As a concrete exhibition, all work stopped for ten minutes at noon on November 15, 1960, at the request of the government, in tribute to the Algerian effort to obtain independence from France.98 Also, under domestic pressure, the government decided to contribute to the Egyptian armaments fund.99 Another case was the Iranian Revolution of 1979, which was welcomed by thousands of Iranian workers. The Iranian embassy in Kuwait was the first to recognize the new regime. In a very short time, thousands of Shi’i people, including Kuwaiti citizens, had taken to following the Iranian religious leader’s orders. In sympathy with the Ayatollah’s call, many closed their works time and again. The government came under pressure from Iranian workers too. Although the Iranian situation was theoretically a foreign political event, it impacted heavily on Kuwaiti domestic politics. Several top-level visits took place between Iran and Kuwait in the same year. What complicated the problem was the previous alliance between the government and the Shi’i groups. Because the government always relied on special alignments with discrete groups, it had used its alignment with the Shi’a to good effect for itself, especially in its efforts to counter-balance merchant power. That is, the government had already politicized the Shi’a before the Iranian Revolution. Thus it was no surprise to see the politicized Shi’i workers supporting the Revolution. Theirs became a mass political movement aligned with it. In 1979 there were many big mass meetings in Kuwait. Pro-Iranian political sermons were delivered in many Shi’i mosques. The Kuwaiti officials warned them to restrict their speech and stay out of politics.

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Despite the keyed-up state of Shi’i workers, the government claimed that such developments were caused by outside agitators. However, in September 1979, the government understood that it had to put a stop to the revolutionary zeal. The police disrupted many public demonstrations. Several Shi’i religious figures were arrested for agitating the public. Certainly, the Iranian Revolution reconfirmed the unstable nature of Kuwaiti politics. The government introduced new election rules after the crisis in order to inhibit further politicization of Shi’i groups. Accordingly, the new election code aimed to reduce the parliamentary role of the Shi’a. It succeeded in doing this, but paradoxically, its success stimulated Sunni religious consciousness.100 Politicized Sunni deputies dominated the parliament at this time. Like the Shi’a, the Kuwaiti Sunni Islamists were also under the influence of several ideologies: the Muslim Brotherhood idea was particularly appealing to young Sunnis. After their election victory, the Sunni groups were quick to demand several new regulations that would codify religious law. “Their first aim was to have Islamic law recognized as the law rather than merely a principle source of the law.”101 Gradually, they demanded a ban on the public celebrations of Christmas and the compulsory veiling of all women. Even alcohol consumption during diplomatic and international meetings was banned in 1983. As tensions grew, there were several bomb attacks on U.S. and French embassies. In 1984, the state security court convicted several expatriate men. The tension paved the way for unprecedented security measures: Many expatriates were deported. All people were to submit to fingerprint registration. Gatherings of more than three people were banned. Compulsory military service was reorganized and increased to three months. Finally, in 1986 the government closed the Assembly. The pretext for this decision was the need for unity in the face of the looming Gulf War. Such crises show that without a functional state–society model, it is impossible for a state to construct a political order when its primary strategy is the formation of discrete alliances with each of its several constituencies. This strategy has increased Kuwait’s vulnerability to international developments. With so many different constituencies, it is very difficult to protect the boundary between the domestic and the international. The government’s boundaries are sometimes not recognized by some groups, such as by the Shi’i groups during the Iranian Revolution. Therefore, even though there is modern understanding of statehood and sovereignty on paper, some groups ply their political activities in different epistemic boundaries. Societal and government boundaries are often not the same boundaries. The Palestinian minority in Kuwait can be studied with the same terms of reference that apply in a study of the Shi’a. They too have engaged in political activity that reveals Kuwait’s propensity for sovereignty crisis. Large Palestinian communities have resided in the region for several decades. In the mid-1980s, Palestinians constituted the biggest group of expatriates. Many occupy key positions in the commercial, economic, and educational sectors, as well as in the mass media. They lobby the government to adopt a strong anti-Israel and

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pro-Palestine position.102 Several well-known historical issues, such as the Palestinian question and the Arab cause, have always appealed to them. But the latest crisis emerged during the invasion of Kuwait by Iraq. When thousands of foreign workers from Palestine and Jordan openly demonstrated their support for “Iraqi Arabism,” it was understood that Kuwait’s stance had to change. The sympathizers of Palestinians in Kuwait believed that Kuwait was waging a tacit war of attrition against Palestinians to reduce their number through the Kuwaitization program.103 The expatriates’ inclination toward Iraq changed the traditional standing of the elite. What a former official said on this subject is an important contribution to an understanding of the nature of this change: “The Palestinian issue is no longer one of our prime issues as it may have been before, although we do care about Jerusalem and the Palestinian people.”104 Therefore, the government was aiming to replace them with new groups who are more “politically reliable.”105 This explained the deportation of many groups. The problem of dissident Palestinian groups with their own agenda was seen as a serious threat to Kuwait’s sovereignty. Kuwait’s UN representative said: “. . . if people pose a security threat, as a sovereign country, we have the right to exclude anyone we don’t one want.”106 The people who fled Kuwait during the War and were not permitted to return number 350,000.107 The government means to reconstruct domestic boundaries through population policies, for it now sees the presence of different nationalities as a threat to Kuwaiti sovereignty. As already noted, the Sunni expatriates were influenced by Iraqi Arabism, which was then punished by the Kuwaiti government after the War. However, when it comes to the Shi’i expatriates, the long-run effects are still important. The end of the Saddam regime in Iraq has reshuffled the cards for the region’s Shi’a, who had lived quietly for decades under Sunni rule. What a Shi’i Imam in Kuwait said is of importance for understanding how the postSaddam era may influence the Shi’i community: Before the fall of the Ba’thist regime in Iraq, governments here did not believe that the Shi’a could be powerful, but it’s different now. The Shi’a are stronger this year; we have been speaking much more about Ashura than before. In the past, we didn’t speak about the Shi’a, and for the first time, we are discussing and showing the Ashura commemoration in TV programs.

Such excitement undoubtedly influences the political scene. A Shi’i representative in Parliament has insisted that it is time for the government to recognize Ashura as a holiday in the country. Moreover, the Shi’a are demanding new religious courts conducted on Shi’i principles.108 It should be remembered that the proportion of Shi’i people in Kuwait is not less than 25 percent, and as already noted, this group is uncomfortable with the historical alliance between the rulers and the Sunni groups. The expatriate problem reveals that Kuwait is well short of being a modern nation; instead, it exists as a collection of discrete constituencies. In its legal

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framework, citizenship does not function as the basic mechanism of people– state relations. This has created serious domestic sovereignty crises. Facing a highly segmented society, the government instrumentalized several traditional social elements in order to achieve political stability. A hybrid-state model resulted, in which some pillars of sovereignty are challenged by primordial facts. The immigration problem, for instance, is not a factor of Kuwait’s rich economy but a part of certain historical social trends in the region. Therefore, a pure, economy-based policy may fail to create real solutions. For years, different groups have been migrants for a variety of complex political reasons.109 The bidun: On Being a Kuwaiti without Citizenship The bidun (sometimes written as bedoon) problem is another very important sovereignty-crisis issue. The number of bidun prior to the Iraqi invasion was about 225,000. Since many of them left the country after liberation, the number went down to about 117,000. Theirs is typical of the condition that can be experienced only in an artificially created state. This condition is a unique consequence of artificial-state creation and the result of rapid revolutionary changes in the epistemic structure of a region with which people have failed to keep up. The bidun are stateless people, many of whom trace their ancestry to the nomadic Bedouin of the Kuwaiti and Arabian deserts. The word bidun is from the Arabic phrase bidun jinsiyya, literally, “without nationality” or “without citizenship.” The term should not be confused with “Bedouin.” Though some bidun are of Bedouin origin, most of them now live in cities. They have lived in Kuwait all their lives, yet they do not have citizenship. The number of bidun in Kuwait is not less than 150,000.110 An equal number left Kuwait during the War. According to several reports, there is a diaspora of some 180,000–200,000. The basic reason for their deprivation is the historical mistake of their ancestors, who did not apply for citizenship with appropriate documents in 1948, or later in 1959. Tribal migration to the urban centers of Kuwait began in the 1950s as a result of rapid economic development. In the 1950s, Kuwait was still a British Protectorate and had no laws governing nationality. People moved freely from other settlements in the Gulf to Kuwait and vice versa. In December 1948, Sheikh Ahmed al-Jaber issued a decree on citizenship, the first issued by Kuwaiti authorities to define citizenship. Prior to that, loyalty to the emir was the primary requisite of de facto citizenship. The borders of Kuwait were ill defined and the residents of areas outside the city of Kuwait were nomads who for centuries had traveled freely between the countries of the region. The ancestral lands of these tribes extended across the modern-day borders of Kuwait, Saudi Arabia, Iraq, Jordan, and Syria. As the ruler of the city of Kuwait, with the military assistance of Great Britain, extended his rule beyond the walls of the city to several thousand square miles,

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the ancestral lands of many tribes became parts of the territory of Kuwait. However, the Kuwaiti authorities were reluctant to extend citizenship to the nomads. Only those who settled in Kuwait prior to 1920 were considered citizens by law. Article 1 of the Citizenship Law of 1920 recognized as Kuwaiti nationals those (and their descendants) who had been residents of the country before 1920 and were continuously resident there till 1959. The nationality laws thus excluded nomads who had not taken to living a settled life. After independence in 1961, the Kuwaiti government announced a new law on citizenship. Chaos ensued as people who could prove a link to the country flocked to apply for citizenship, even though the law strictly limited the number of naturalized persons to fifty a year. On the other hand, many eligible people failed to register. Only 35 percent of registered applicants, mostly Bedouin immigrants, succeeded in becoming Kuwaiti citizens.111 Another very important bidun group consists of the children of Kuwaiti mothers who had married foreigners. Kuwaiti law is based on a restrictive male-oriented doctrine of blood link (jus sanguinis) whereby citizenship passes to the offspring of Kuwaiti fathers, but not of mothers. This is consistent with local traditional kinship customs—a patrilineal system in which the familial and tribal identity is passed through the male. Kuwaiti citizenship laws became exceedingly restrictive through numerous amendments clearly aimed at denying citizenship to all but a small group of original Kuwaiti, citified people. Therefore, many people born to Kuwaiti women are deprived of citizenship.112 As the bidun had lived like citizens for a long time, until 1988 they were counted as Kuwaiti citizens in the official population statistics. But after 1988, the government took to adding them to foreign-resident numbers. Although the bidun continued to be treated as citizens and were repeatedly promised formal citizenship, their applications for citizenship were mostly postponed. The requirement most difficult for the bidun to meet was the provision of proof that the applicant’s father had been a settled resident of Kuwait before 1920, and had been continuously resident there until the time of the application (or his death). Until the mid-1980s, the bidun had Kuwaiti citizens’ freedom to travel— they were issued temporary passports—and eligibility for government employment and services, including education, health care, and welfare. The bidun constituted the overwhelming majority in the army and police: over 90 percent of the rank and file, although not the officers, were bidun. Only Kuwaiti citizens and the bidun were allowed to enlist; foreigners were hired only as advisers, usually on fixed contracts. However, the official policy changed in the 1980s. In 1985, the government began to apply the provisions of the Alien Residence Law 7/1959 to the bidun, and subsequently issued a series of regulations stripping them of almost all their previous rights and benefits. From 1986, the government restricted bidun eligibility for travel documents and fired all bidun government employees (except for those employed by the police or the military) who could not show valid passports. Private employers were required to pursue the same policy. In 1987, the

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government began to refuse bidun registration of automobiles and applications for driving licenses, severely restricting their freedom of movement. That same year, their children were barred from attending public schools. In 1998, this ban was extended to university level, a ban that has remained in place since then, depriving thousands of eligible college-age students of university education. The government instructed all private clubs and associations to dismiss bidun members. In May of 2000, the Ministry of the Interior ended a nine-month program during which bidun who signed affidavits admitting to a foreign nationality and renouncing claims to Kuwaiti nationality could apply for a five-year residency permit. But what is worse, since they no longer had passports, bidun students could not leave the country to seek education elsewhere. They can only get passports if they renounce their right to return to Kuwait. This hardship is compounded by the fact that there are no private colleges in the country. Also in 1988, all Kuwaiti associations, including the Medical Association and the Lawyers Association, were instructed by the Ministry of Labor and Social Affairs to dismiss their bidun members; most of them complied. The bidun live in poor conditions, since they do not enjoy public services and benefits or opportunities for education and employment. Despite the fact that many have generations-old Kuwaiti families, effective links to the national society, and reasonably consider Kuwait their home country their access to citizenship is increasingly blocked.113 After decades of treating the bidun as citizens and repeatedly promising to confer formal citizenship on them, the government reversed its practice and declared them illegal residents of the only country they have ever known. Although these discriminatory policies were put into practice in the pre-War era, they intensified in the post-War era. Even though many of their families had lived in Kuwait for generations, the bidun were treated as second-class people. They were dismissed en masse from their government positions. And were vulnerable to harassment and exploitation. When we analyze the issue in the context of the Gulf War, we find that it brought another turning point in the status of the bidun. That some bidun had joined the Popular Army, an organization under Iraqi command, was the justification offered by Kuwaiti officials for these people’s post-War deportation. Facing the threat of deportation from Kuwait, the bidun were living in very poor economic and social conditions on the eve of Iraqi invasion. In September 1990, the Iraqi occupation authorities ordered, under penalty of death, that all non-Kuwaiti citizens living in Kuwait join the Popular Army. (The Iraqis did this to deepen the fissure between the constituencies.) Having no choice, many bidun obeyed. As a reaction to their “betrayal,” all bidun who had remained in government posts were dismissed after the liberation. Defense-sector officials made it known that they wished to reduce the number of bidun in the armed forces. The Kuwaitization of the armed forces occurred not by way of naturalizing the bidun but by replacing them with citizens. In the pre-War era, some 90 percent of the rank and file soldiers in

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the Kuwaiti army, and a substantial number of the police, were bidun.114 However, in the post-War period, they were not permitted to resume their jobs. Many were put on trial or interned in refugee camps. As table 3.1 illustrates, absent the citizenship mechanism, the only mechanism between the bidun and state is the use of force. In recent times, the government issued several official and unofficial announcements to show its determination to close the bidun dossier.115 But, given the economic problems of the post-invasion era, the government is hardly in a position to find permanent solutions. The bidun case is an important illustrator of a condition that betrays the sovereignty-crisis propensity of the hybrid state. The legal and political framework that rules the relationship between the bidun and the state lacks almost all the modern pillars of statehood. The government employs typical primordial instruments, such as the use of force and discrimination. The case of the bidun is an obvious obstacle to the realization in Kuwait of the Western-state sovereignty model, and the government’s resort to alternative policies in its relations with them is proof of the hybrid nature of the Kuwaiti state.

A New Approach? Since Kuwait’s inauguration as a state in 1961 and its efforts to establish a modern state format, a variety of problems have exposed the fragility of its political system. Many of the important pillars of modern statehood, such as citizenship and domestic authority, are in reality hybrid forms. Therefore, a permanent sovereignty crisis has become the norm of daily politics. Traditional and economic concerns have limited the realization of colonially conceived state–society boundaries. Apart from typical problems such as the clash between the local formats and the colonially brought formats, the rise of the rentier model added important obstructions to the consolidation of the Western model in Kuwait. In the model that prevails, oil money enables the rulers to continue to use primordial instruments. A hybrid-state model in which modern and traditional formats coexist is the result. The rentier model has many important impacts of the political system in terms of state–society boundaries: It obstructs the realization of important domestic boundaries such as citizenship. What is more, it allows the instrumentalization of certain primordial formats such as cliency and tribalism as alternatives to citizenship. As noted earlier, the rentier system fails to produce a balanced relationship between people and state. Citizenship on this model becomes a formal and economic status that does not guarantee political and legal rights. Besides, this model necessities the use of several “medieval” methods. Therefore, despite the formal organization of the political system into a semblance of modern-state structure, a rentier mentality has the system operating quite unlike the Western state. Kuwait faces other important sovereignty crises, thanks to its demographic structure. The existence of a foreigner majority in the Kuwaiti jurisdiction puts significant obstacles in the way of domestic sovereignty. Besides, there

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are the bidun, who are neither citizens nor foreigners. This complex demographic structure increases Kuwait’s vulnerability to regional developments. When all such problems are taken together, it becomes undeniable that the Western sovereignty model is severely impeded in Kuwait. The invasion of Kuwait by Iraq exposed the limits of statehood in this country. More than half the Kuwaiti population (according to several sources, almost 60 percent of it), including the ruling family, fled the country during the invasion. The chaotic period in the immediate aftermath of the invasion clearly showed the absence of national aspiration among Kuwaiti people. The opposition became more critical of the royal family for having fled the country without any pretense of mounting a resistance to Iraq, for its poor management of the crisis, and for its excessive reliance on Western powers. As Ghabra says, the invasion of Kuwait by Iraqi forces created a societal vacuum: Everything Kuwaitis had believed in during the preceding decades regarding Arab nationalism and their Islamic identity suffered a blow.116

Taking stock of the legacy of the Iraqi invasion, the Kuwaiti rulers have come forward with a new nation-building initiative: An idea that Kuwait might become a strong nation that can protect itself from serious external threats has begun to crystallize.117 Since the Iraqi invasion, the rulers have been in search of a new political and social structure. To put it briefly, official perception has reached a point where it admits that the old Kuwaiti project has failed to create a Western-type state. An official text, displayed on the official website of the State of Kuwait, claims that Kuwait has developed a new approach in the post-War era, one in which citizenship is recognized as the real strength of any political system.118 Kuwait realized, at a very early stage, the importance of having welleducated and healthy citizens playing an effective role in the community. This was based on the belief that the real wealth of any country is its citizens, and that natural resources, no matter how huge or diversified, can never guarantee a country’s stability or progress. The official statement published on the official website of the State of Kuwait underlines the importance of citizens and challenges the conventional meaning of natural resources. This is typical post-War discourse. The official text indicates that Kuwait has already managed to displace the former “parental relationship between the individual and the state.” Official policy in the post-War era is set to make way for a new, modern state structure. The government has discovered a social policy that makes it necessary to give up the idea of financial welfare and adopt the concept of productive community. Thus, the parental relationship between the individual and the state is being replaced by another that emphasizes the individual’s freedom to deploy his creative powers in the pursuit of promoting himself and his community. Certainly, time is yet to test this new initiative. Thorough reorientation of the rentier mentality is still to be realized, as are reforms in population policy, the legal code, and approaches to economic liberalization.

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So, the question is: Can Kuwait perform all these tasks at a level of success that has so far eluded it? Answers to two further questions should inform any answer to this one: (i) What has enabled the hybrid state to perpetuate itself and effectively block the evolution of the colonially imposed modern-state model? (ii) Are perpetuation and obstruction attributable to structural limits or to the lead actors or to both? If past failures are attributable to the actors, there are no grounds for optimism. The Kuwaiti rulers have not ceased to implement their traditional policies in the post-War period. Despite the cited official declaration, traditional strategies are still evident. Even though traumatic war experience has opened the doors to more radical policies, alleged collaborators with the Iraqi regime were put on trial in security courts, and the bidun were faced with new difficulties. Government population policy plans have tried to eliminate the influence of the Palestinians by replacing them with other nationals, such as Pakistanis. The new quota targets of the five-year plans are in fact geared to eliminate Palestinian influence.119 By replacing them with other groups, the government aims to punish the Palestinians for the proIraqi demonstrations during the Iraqi invasion. The shift in Kuwait’s population policy was criticized by several international organizations. UN Human Rights Committee Reports condemned Kuwait for its discriminatory treatment of the bidun, effectively accusing her of violating the provisions of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights. According to the report, Kuwait . . . must ensure that all persons in its territory and subject to its jurisdiction, including the bidun, enjoy Covenant rights without discrimination. The right to remain in one’s own country and to return to it must be scrupulously respected.

The report states also that the government should confer nationality on a non-discriminatory basis, and ensure that all those who are granted Kuwaiti nationality have voting rights. The government is urged also to refrain from deporting residents on the basis of their classification as bidun who have failed to regularize their status.120 In fact, the 1985–1990 Five Years Plan had aimed for a fifty–fifty balance of citizens and non-citizens by the year 2000. This project had many objectives, including the Kuwaitization of the army and the bureaucracy. In 2002 the defense minister declared that the complete Kuwaitization of the Kuwaiti army had been a major objective since the liberation.121 However, reductionist approaches should not confuse the situation, for demographic limits necessitate a population policy in favor of citizens. No state can be expected to risk its own system in the interest of non-citizens. This brings us directly to the issue of structural limits. One can group those under four headings: First, there is the artificial injection of Western statehood in Kuwait. A basic issue is whether the Kuwaiti state has been able to cope with the

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problems posed by modernization. Traditional motifs and institutions embedded in the political system are still influential. It should be remembered that it was only in 2003 that the office of prime minister was separated from that of the heir to the throne. With this late decision, the separation between personality and government becomes achievable.122 On the other hand, the tribal-sectarian contract between merchants and the royal family is still the basic pillar of Kuwait, and remains superior to any other principle, including citizenship. Second, the rentier framework is another structural limit. Since naturalization was considered a threat to Kuwaiti society, the system employed various methods such as cliency (buying the loyalties of people) to sustain domestic stability. Instead of consolidating a modern structure, the ruling elite preferred to use oil revenue as a political mechanism. Third, there is a demographic limit. Due to human-resource shortages, Kuwait has accepted foreign workers for decades. As a consequence, there are several constituencies, and their discrete relationships with the government are regulated by different mechanisms. (See table 3.1.) Fourth, Kuwait’s vulnerability in foreign policy is acute. The presence of different groups creates the problem of multiple loyalties. Besides, Kuwait’s position as a small state in a hostile neighborhood makes it hard to envision an independent foreign policy. As a small country with serious national and international problems, the only secure policy is to buy international loyalties with oil revenues. The government not only buys its own people’s loyalties but also has friends among the other regional states. The four structural obstacles just listed still impede the realization of Western-style sovereignty in Kuwait. To overcome them, a political system is needed that can reasonably be expected to conceptualize legitimacy on the basis of equal and rational principles such as citizenship.123 To achieve this, Kuwait should establish relevant standards and institutions. However, efforts to transform the state’s political culture have always been conservative, for rigorous transformation would, as the ruling family knows, result in the medium term in a challenge to the regime, and even in its demise. Parliament was dissolved in 1976 mainly because the tribal and ruling families realized that the new political system was eroding their historical privileges. Thus, the 1976 retreat was a move to recapture lost power.124 New attempts at reform may well be defeated in the same way.

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4

Jordan: The Competition of Di fferent Constitu encies

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n April 2006, the Jordanian government denied the right of return to its jurisdiction of several members of the Islamic Resistance Movement (HAMAS), an Islamist organization that champions the cause of Palestinian liberation from Israeli occupation, despite their current Jordanian citizenship, on ground that the law prohibits membership of non-Jordanian organizations.1 This incident was indicative of the multi-leveled problems that beset Jordan’s appreciation of its own sovereignty. The spectacle it provided of the tenuous guarantee of Jordanian citizenship moved Hamza Mansur, an Islamist member of parliament, to declare his desire for a time when his passport will proclaim only his Arab and Islamic lineage (nasab). The words of a deputy of the National Assembly cannot of course be considered a typical expression of sentiment. The transnational loyalty Mansur voiced is strange for many reasons. In contrast, Abd al-Hadi al-Majali, a deputy with nationalist inclinations, considers that all who tread Jordanian soil are Jordanians. For him, the political and constitutional essence of the Jordanian state is paramount.2 It is also worth recalling parliament’s refusal to ratify the proposal to repeal the provision of the penal code that exempts tribally sanctioned killings.3 Such gender-based statutory discrimination continues to obstruct the realization of the principle of the universality of the citizenship status. This chapter will construct a categorized framework to analyze phenomena of this nature, posit their crisis-inducing propensity in the structure of the modern state, and characterize them as the drivers of the emergence of the Jordanian hybrid-state model. Jordan was created by Western powers, guided largely by British commitments forged during World War I, after the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire.4 (Chapter 2 has given a historical account of the formation of Jordan along the Western-state model.) Jordan is a good example of colonial creationism, for all its institutions of statehood are artificial constructs, the viability of which has been the recurring subject of debate during important state crises. Scholars have called this artifice “. . . a political anomaly and a geographical nonsense.”5

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In 1958, after the end of the Hashemite rule in Iraq, the British Foreign Secretary, awake to the oddity in the Jordanian situation, said: “However much one may admire the courage of this lonely young king [Hussein], it is difficult to avoid the conclusion [that] his days are numbered.”6 Many have claimed that this creation, lacking a basis in pre-existing citizenry and borders, is historically unjustifiable. Jordan has long been seen as a piece of land to be absorbed by Iraqis, or even by Palestinians. Its rulers were brought from another place, and its people were meaninglessly collectivized as “Transjordanians.” From the outset, no-one, not even the ruling elite, was satisfied with the artificiality of this colonial construct. Even King Abdullah I was not happy. He espoused the pan-Arabist ambition of creating a Greater Syria that would subsume all neighboring Arab lands. He appointed many Syrians and Iraqis as government ministers in order to promote this political agenda. Since the very inception of the imperial creation “Jordan,” the presumed realization of its sovereignty, in the Western sense of “independent state,” has been prohibited by endemic values. The problem resides in the incompatibility of the colonially created territorial state and local conditions and its origin can be traced back to the colonizing activities of the late nineteenth century. Since then, Jordan has been the subject of a variety of agendas aimed at the creation of a modern territorial state. Even so, postulating the existence today of a Jordanian nation, in the sense of “modern Western nation,” is impermissible for being inconsistent with empirical reality,7 not least of which is the absence of a functional modern-state format. Political authority is exerted by the deployment of both traditional and modern policies as the instruments of state, at least in instances when the modern policy instrument cannot address local conditions. Like elsewhere, traditional or “substitution” policies in Jordan have hybridized the externally imposed Western model. Naturally, the traditional policies serve as objective evidence of limited sovereignty, at least where they are inconsistent with the territoriality of that Western concept. Jordan’s hybridized sovereignty gives it the appearance of a weak state if it is evaluated on an ideal-type Weberian model.8 The Jordanian state acts in an overlapping political and social environment of which sovereignty crisis is a normal feature. That perpetual sovereignty crisis is less “crisis” than proof of the inapplicability in Jordan of the colonially injected Western concept of sovereignty, inasmuch as that entails the necessity of state– society boundaries. The samples of sovereignty crises presented in Chapter 1 are relevant in a study of sovereignty issues in Jordan. An attempt to show in terms of practical issues how Western sovereignty is inapplicable in some Arab states will follow. That will provide a clarification of how certain boundaries at the domestic and external realm are violated by that Western concept, and are, for reason of that violation, incapable of application. Equally important is how states compensate at the various socio/political substations for such violations. Those compensations are important symptoms of the hybrid.

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There are discernible differences among states’ apprehensions of which boundaries are not successfully realized, and in how they compensate the shortfall. There is a long list of sovereignty crises: the failure of the guarantees implicit in citizenship, the failure of central authority, the resort to force, tribalism and the minority question, incompatible electoral agendas, the failure of national identity to register on foreign policy, the lack of an impersonal political structure. All of them are evidence that the boundary concept, integral to the Western concept of sovereignty, triggers the crisis situations. Boundaries secured against violation are definitely the sole criterion of a state’s strength, at least on the Weberian perspective. Of essence on that perspective is the extent to which a centralized and fully rationalized Weberian (bureaucratic) model works efficiently and is without effective social opposition.9 Jordan has many of the sovereignty problems listed above, such as incompatible electoral agenda, the problems concerning citizenship, the failure of central authority. This chapter will focus on those problems to evaluate the adventure of Western-type sovereignty in the Jordanian context. Jordan’s history is full of sovereignty crises, but this chapter will limit itself to two major triggers of them: the Palestinian problem, and the government’s recent nation-building agenda. Many political outcomes, such as the failure of central authority, the failure of citizenship and its substitution with certain tribal policies that show the inapplicability of Western sovereignty can be viewed through the lens the Palestinian predicament. The recent nation-building initiative, which was launched under the “Jordan First” banner, further, but not dissimilar, light on the important local concepts of citizenship and Jordanian identity.

The Palestinian Question Before proceeding to analyze the Palestinian problem, it should be pointed out that the situation here is quite different from that of other minorities in the Arab world. To begin with, the Palestinians are not demographic minorities in Jordan; they represent more than half of the population. Second, and importantly, they are, like the Jordanians, a Sunni Muslim Arab people. But, despite this tribal, ethnic, and religious shared identity, the Palestinians constitute a political minority.10 A study of how people with the same ethnic, linguistic, religious, and tribal background might accommodate a majority and minority division throws light on the nature of the typical sovereignty crisis in the Arab system. The nature of this crisis is a twentieth-century phenomenon, and is a product of state formation and modernization in the Middle East.11 In Jordan, many important impediments to the consolidation of a Western-type statehood emanate from this crisis, which is in turn generalized as “the Palestinian problem.” To begin with, the presence of Palestinians has limited Jordan’s ability to implement its foreign-policy objectives. Its demographic make-up, of which the Palestinians are a large part, paralyzes the Jordanian elite’s decision-making

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on foreign issues. The presence of a large Palestinian group blurs the most important pillar of a sovereign state: the boundary between the domestic and the external. Thus, a tough problem of contenders for government has been how to secure Palestinian-Jordanians’ political support and yet maintain an independent and pragmatic foreign policy. The Palestinians’ existence has always been an important problem in the definition of Jordanian national interest and national policy. Jordan has always been trapped between its national interests and that of the Palestinians. The leadership is bound to take all groups’ interests into consideration, even though these interests are not always parallel. The Palestinian-Jordanians have often challenged the government on its national foreign policy. Many events in the practical expression of Jordanian foreign policy, such as the Anglo-Jordanian Treaty, the rejection of the Baghdad Pact, relations with the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), and objections to the Gulf War, reflect the Palestinian constraint. The Palestinians’ exposure to external ideas, such as Leftism, Nasserism, and the Arab cause, has worsened the situation. It is extremely difficult to define a national-interest objective or national foreign policy in such a configuration. The Palestinian factor has prohibited the consolidation in Jordan of a modern bureaucratic state. Citizenship is a central issue here. The presence of the Palestinians makes problematic a definition of the people and of the land. “Who is Jordanian?” and “Where is Jordan?” are the recurrent local questions. Despite the historical alliance of Jordanians and Palestinians, it is not possible for Jordan to extend citizenship to all Palestinians. Therefore, since its induction into statehood Jordan has been a state of citizens and displaced persons. This political distinction exists as an extension of an old customary law: the contract between the pro-Hashemite tribes and the ruling power, the Hashemite monarchy. The monarchy has enjoyed the role of ultimate protector with the power to call upon Bedouin tribes and supporter families for allegiant regiments.12 Thus when the citizenship issue obtruded on this customary law, it provoked tribal anger. The pro-Hashemite tribes have always been keen on protecting their historical position, and are skeptical about naturalizing the Palestinians. They are against the rise of the Palestinians’ civil and political role in Jordan, which will inevitably limit their own political role. The rising Palestinian threat to the historical tribal alliance served to awaken a need to protect that alliance. The Palestinian presence has given rise to a domestic sovereignty problem that has impeded the consolidation of an efficient central authority: The central government has not been able to extend its rule to all parts of the country, especially when the PLO established its main base of operations for the 1967 War against Israel in Jordan, then gradually became a state-within-a-state in the postwar period. This political situation has never been resolved completely. The 1948 and the 1967 wars created serious problems for Jordan. In 1948, King Abdullah I extended Hashemite control to the West Bank.

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This expansion of Jordan brought about 2,000 square miles of territory under Hashemite control. Moreover, the expansion added half a million refugees to Jordan. A major Palestinian influx occurred again in the post-1967 period. The resultant transformation of Jordan was rapid and traumatic: After the annexation of the West Bank the Palestinians had a two-thirds majority in the kingdom. Palestinians constantly migrated from the West Bank to the East Bank (the administrative and economic center), and in the wake of the 1967 war another 300,000 Palestinians left the West Bank and Gaza for the East Bank. In the East Bank alone the Palestinians totaled approximately half of the population.13

Jordan was transformed overnight, in terms of demography, from a country of 375,000 people to one of over one million, a rise of almost 300 percent. Certainly, such a development was unprecedented and truly shocking in a state that had not yet realized its nation-building objectives. Thus, Jordan faced a chaotic situation before it completed its state formation. The social and political profile of the West Bank Palestinians is also significant. First, they are more literate, more enterprising. Second, thanks to the long-standing struggle against Zionism, they were more sophisticated in the ways of politics and opposition.14 With such differences, two constituencies rather than one nation came into being in Jordan. Given that the Palestinians represented more than half the population, a liberal naturalization procedure seemed rational, at least at the beginning. The Arabist euphoria encouraged it. So after the first influx of Palestinians into Jordan and the annexation by Jordan of the West Bank in 1950, the government extended full citizenship to Palestinians. It was believed that a nation could be constructed from the two groups. However, the 1950 Citizenship Code came to be feared as dangerous to political stability because of the haste with which it registered Palestinians as new citizens. The Code was amended and a four-year prior residency became a requirement of naturalization in 1954. Gradually, the naturalization process became tougher. When it was understood that extension of citizenship was far from a solution of state problems, the Hashemite dynasty under King Abdullah I tried traditional methods to bind the diverse peoples and tribes into a cohesive whole. The regime began to treat the Palestinians as one more group or tribe (or “a new constituency”) that would contribute to the process of Jordanization of the country.15 In so doing, the government opted for a modus vivendi with the Palestinians, which was radically different from extension of citizenship to them. This was nothing but the re-instrumentalization of the old loyalty mechanism. Even so, the new agenda was not enough, for alarmingly, the newcomers were well politicized. Their very complex problems could not be ameliorated by recourse to the several well-known philosophies of Arabism or

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religious brotherhood. This failure prompted the question of loyalty: Where precisely did the affinities of former Palestinian, newly Jordanian citizens lie? With most of the members of the Palestinian National Council holding Jordanian citizenship, the specter of “double allegiances,” and the suspicion that a significant proportion of the population were indifferent or, indeed, antipathetic to the “host” country, were inevitable.16

Annexation brought in tow the need to focus on two important aspects of state: people and territory. In his speech on unification, King Abdullah I noted that Jordan had became “. . . a bird whose wings are its East and its West, and who has a natural right to have its people and relatives come together.” However, this analogy was an ill-conceived one, as it had no concrete geographic correspondence.17 Yet this instance of how the ruling elite approached the idea of Jordan was indicative of the artificial basis of Jordan: Jordan was figuratively cast as a project rather than as a political and geographical reality. This political poeticism was far from an acknowledgment of social realities. Meanwhile, several necessary administrative steps were taken. At the beginning, the term “Palestine” was protected. But in time, the Jordanian official discourse replaced it with the phrase “West Bank.” In a postal ordinance issued in 1950, the third Article provided that the word “Palestine” was no loner a valid reference to the West Bank of the Kingdom.18 In 1949, the Jordanian dinar became the only legal currency in the country. In December 1949, all tariffs and customs between the two banking systems (Jordanian and Palestinian) were abolished, and in 1953, both became subject to the one regulatory regime. The new naturalization provisions and the new banking regime were, from the perception of some groups, inconsistent legislations. Undoubtedly, the unification, accompanied by a strong campaign by the monarchy to establish itself as the sole representative of all Palestinians, changed the foundations of political life in Jordan. Many important concepts such as citizenship and political participation were reorganized. As expected, the incorporation of the Palestinians heralded the new era of New Transjordan. The Palestinian group became an important actor. Their distinctness came out as an important political fact on several political levels.19 For example, in the new parliament, the lower house (majlis al-nuwwab) was composed of equal numbers of elected representatives from the East and West Banks. Elected representatives from West Bank quickly became a strong block against supremacy of the rule of Abdullah I. Similar contradictions came out in other fields. It was the beginning of the political competition between the two constituencies of the Jordanian political system. In short, the basic problem before the inclusion of Palestinians had been how to realize a Western-state form and citizenship principle. The arrival of the Palestinians added another problem: the realization of citizenship and national identity in a society in which two constituencies coexist.

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As already remarked, the Palestinians were more urban, more educated, more experienced in political participation, and more exposed to the mass media. Palestinian merchants brought with them their capital, and educated Palestinians their expertise and skills. But they, especially the workers, also brought with them their political experience. These differences placed new economic, social, and political demands on the Jordanian state and on Jordan’s prewar population generally.20 To overcome these problems, different political and social projects were executed to consolidate state authority over Palestinians. Several congressional meetings were devoted to the planning of their future. An intensive education program, with the aim of forging a harmonious Jordanian social whole, was implemented in the West and East Banks. Despite such dedicated efforts, the two communities perceived their interests differently and pursued them with discrete projects. Consequently, the Palestinians have never become fully integrated as Jordanians, and their demographic weight has never been afforded proportional representation in the institutions of state.21

The Failure of Citizenship As already noted, citizenship is an inseparable component of modern statehood and sovereignty. As an ordering principle it is axiomatic in Western political philosophy.22 It affords all the peoples of a defined territory the same rights and responsibilities. Therefore, issues concerning citizenship lend themselves to use as litmus tests of the existence of state sovereignty. Western colonial rule introduced citizenship into the Arab world at least at the legal level. Despite many Arab states’ formalization of this colonial legacy, citizenship in the Western sense has never become fully integrated. Jordan, being an artificial creation, was beset by serious citizenship problems from the beginning. Those problems were complicated by the arrival of the Palestinian population. The tribal reaction to that arrival made its own contribution to the basic problem. Despite the Citizenship Code, the historical Hashemite/tribes alliance has dominated the political system as the favored construct. This historical alliance, which depends on tribal bond, shaped the political structure more assertively than did citizenship. The Jordanian Constitution (Article 6) explicitly stipulates that: Jordanians shall be equal before the law. There shall be no discrimination among them on grounds of race, language or religion in regard of their rights and duties.

Article 6 fully meets the formal requirement of the modern nation-state. The possibility of some Palestinians’ legal status as Jordanians without citizenship should have been excluded by this Article. Recall, however, Jordan’s complex demographic structure and the established customary law of the monarchy/tribe alliance. Curiously, customary law in the citizenship matter has effectively overridden codified law.

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Just as curiously, there are inconsistent elements in the codified law. The Constitution itself advances a definition of “Jordanian nation” that considers the people and the territory as different alignments. According to Article 1, “the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan is an inviolate sovereign state.” Ironically, the same Article declares that the people of Jordan are people “forming a part of the Arab nation.” Thus, according to the Constitution the Jordanian nation is a branch of the greater Arab nation, not of the sovereign state of Jordan. As a consequence, Jordan is not a nation-state in the sense that France or Germany are nation-states. There is no single ethnic group associated with the tract of territory isolated in 1921 by imperial Britain.23 Therefore, the state has been encumbered since its inception with a duty to forge special relations with diverse social groups. This is the historical reason for the failure of the citizenship construct in Jordan. (See figure 4.1.) The lack of a discernible Jordanian nation necessitated the instrumentalization of certain primordial patterns and political methods in order to safeguard political stability. In other words, certain primordial patterns have of necessity infused the colonially injected modern-state format. With that infusion the government aimed to create a national consciousness led by tribal groups steeped in the tradition of primordial loyalty. The Palestinian groups without citizenship in Jordan contribute significantly to the fragility of the political environment. Even though a majority of refugees acquired Jordanian citizenship under the 1950 nationalization law, there are still big groups deprived of citizenship and therefore of important political and civil rights. The government prefers short-term solutions, such as the issuing of five-year passports instead, to extending citizenship. For example, in 1999 the government decided to issue five-year passports to Gazan refugees in Jordan (they are not considered Jordanian citizens since they were citizens of Egypt before the wars). They have neither Jordanian citizenship nor Jordanian passports, and they have been displaced from their birthplace since 1967.24

Women

Women

Women

CITIZENSHIP

Islamists

Figure 4.1

The problems with citizenship in Jordan.

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The fear that motivates such short-term solutions is the threat of Palestinian challenge to Jordanian stability. In Jordan’s view, if citizenship were extended to all Gazans, they would be free to settle in Jordan, which would inevitably harm the Palestinian cause.25 Thus, even though the danger of ruining Palestine and thereby promoting the Israeli cause is frequently cited, the real motive of the existing citizenship policy is the fear of a new Palestinization of Jordan. The Palestinian cause is merely the Jordanian government’s official defense of its citizenship policy. The government’s persistent fear of a Palestinian challenge has diverted it from the granting of citizenship to other recourses. These other recourses have hybridized the Jordanian political system and has officially sanctioned the coexistence of traditional and modern patterns in the state procedure. In the wider context, there are several reasons for the ruling elite in Jordan being hostile players in the Palestinian issue. Undoubtedly, this hostility upsets all balances within the country. When Jordan was created in 1921, those who inhabited the East Bank of the Jordan River were considered Jordanians, but with time and the demographic movements in the region, this distinction blurred.26 Despite the nation-building process that has been in train since 1921, the tribal basis of the Jordanian state still retains its importance. Since the formation of modern statehood, the Hashemite government has gained its most significant political support from the Bedouin tribes. When Jordan was created, it was, as Ayubi puts it, “. . . a corridor country without a distinct history, or focal point, or even a native royal family.”27 Therefore, the rulers first focused on creating a homogenous class to institutionalize legitimacy. To this end, the government promoted indigenous elite officials and dignitaries to replace the multi-Arab elite that surrounded the Hashemite kings when they first arrived. In short, Jordan was created on the basis of a social contract between the tribes and the Hashemite state. Especially during the crisis periods of the mid-1970s, tribal help was essential. To affirm it, King Hussein sought intensive personal ties with the Bedouins. He always emphasized the monarchy’s ties by visiting tribal villages and socializing in their tents. In a sense, King Hussein tried to present himself as the chief tribal sheikh. His successors emulated this. This royal policy was a grant of official support to the Bedouins. They form a big part of the army, and many are senior officers. The tribal influence is evident at all levels of social and political life, even in the post-Hussein era: Tribal candidates won most of the Lower House seats in the country’s first general election under the reign of King Abdullah II in 2003. Official records show that tribal candidates secured about two-third of the seats in the Assembly, leaving little room for party candidates. As the Kingdom’s most prominent tribal representatives carried the large majority of the country’s forty-five constituencies, it was obvious that party alliances had failed against tribal loyalty. This was clear evidence of the support in the electorate for tribal loyalty.28

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The lack of a modern citizenship order opens the political sphere to tribal influence. Thus, not slow to capitalize on opportunity that turns up, tribal groups are using citizenship as a means of preserving their historical privileges. Since its extension to all groups would result in the curtailment of their privilege, they exert pressure on the government to refrain from extending citizenship to Palestinians. The Palestinian-born Queen Raina’s recent attempt to reorganize the citizenship law was met with strong criticism from traditional tribal sectors. Her Majesty’s campaign called for Jordanian women to be afforded the right that men enjoy of passing on their nationality to their children. The tribal objection to the implementation of such a law was that it would hand citizenship to hundreds of thousands of stateless Palestinians born to JordanianPalestinian mothers.29 The tribal representatives are against not only these envisaged plans to extend citizenship, but also to reforms regarding the status of women. A civil society campaign to repeal Article 340 of the Jordanian Penal Code, which regulates honor killings, was also strongly criticized by tribal groups.30 This article exempts a male who murders or injures a female relative found committing adultery, and reduces the punishment if the victim was found in an adulterous situation. (Incidentally, women gain no benefit from this Article.) Tribal members of the Lower House attacked this campaign by arguing that amendment of the Article would lead to “the destruction of the foundations of the state of Jordan.”31 The government has recently declared that new amendments of these laws are being drafted. However, societal reactions to them remain in the balance. A further reason for the government’s fear of the Palestinian issue is that it is a continuing problem. Jordan still faces the prospect of the arrival of new Palestinians. It should be noted that 230,000–300,000 Palestinians from the Gulf came to the Jordan in 1990–1991. Thus, during political crises it is a top priority of the Jordanian government to increase border controls to stem the inflow of new refugees. For example, when Israeli forces attack Palestinian cities, the government takes precautionary measures to prevent a large-scale influx of Palestinians into Jordan. Bridges and crossings are closed at the first sign of danger. Jordanian officials report that they cannot under any circumstance allow the entry of more refugees. The Jordanian stance is very clear on this issue. Apart from the economic limits of the state, it is the fragility of the demographic make-up that forces the government to take such a stand. As a member of the Senate noted: “Jordan has offered a lot to the refugees residing on its territories, despite the chronic scarcity and lack of resources. However, the current circumstances are different from the previous circumstances in that there is no capacity to accommodate any people.”32 Thus, the official policy is to refuse all new refugees and to insist that the refugees already in Jordan return to their homelands. The government argues that those who are registered with the United Nations as refugees should avail their right to return.

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Islamists and Citizenship The ensuing short discussion of Islamists will reveal another way in which hybridism in state policy produces crises of sovereignty that are triggered by the citizenship issue. The springboard is the government’s readiness to employ religious networks to bolster its authority, despite the fact that this policy is known to be unfavorable to the institutionalization of citizenship. The game between the Islamists and Jordan has been well balanced. The government has benefited from the Muslim Brotherhood, because as a moderate reform movement it checks the other more confrontational social movements and channels Islamic activism into a nonviolent agenda.33 It is expected of the Brotherhood that it will not challenge the legitimacy or power of the ruling regime. The balance between the state and the Islamists is nevertheless fragile. Even though the government has use for them as sustainers of its legitimacy, the politicization of these groups has always been an undesired possibility. The government allowed Islamists, mainly the Brotherhood, to operate under charity rules in the 1940s and in the 1950s. Legally recognized as an organized group, the Islamists/Brotherhood movement remained active when other political parties were banned. They helped the state to counter the influence of the then-banned pan-Arab and communist movements. This relationship of bedfellows had a simple logic: King Abdullah I offered political and financial patronage to the Brotherhood in exchange for its political and economic support. Brotherhood members enjoyed, for instance, priority in employment opportunities. Several of its leaders served in the higher echelons of government. In exchange for this, the Muslim Brotherhood supported the king against all internal and external opposition during the 1970–1971 civil war. The government used the Brotherhood as a functional instrument for stabilizing refugee camps. Similarly, the government used the same groups to counter radical Islamic groups. Islamist groups were used as instruments even to promote foreign policy: The government allowed the Brotherhood to organize and launch attacks against Syria’s Assad regime from Jordanian territory in the mid-1980s.34 This cooperation obtained at many critical stages over the years. Yet it has also been a conscious priority of the government to hold these groups accountable to the rules of the game, and it has been aware of several worrisome developments in this context. For example, when an Islamist candidate was elected as president of the Jordan Engineers Association, the government criticized what it described as the politicization of professional unions.35 Such tensions clearly reveal the tripwires in the political balance between the state and Islamists. The most important aim of the government is to prevent any move against its domestic authority. To realize this, its officials have often interrogated important Islamists, including National Assembly deputies, on suspicion of illegal assembly and rioting. Officials see Islamists meetings as illegal and potential threats to government authority; hence, the government makes a

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priority of keeping them under tight control.36 However, despite such efforts, it has not been possible to stop Islamist activism on several issues. The Islamists are organized well enough to pressure the government on important issues, including its foreign political agenda. For example, when the Jordanian government expressed its support for the U.S.–U.K. coalition and offered its assistance to combat international terrorism, Islamist students staged rallies on university campuses and burned American and Israeli flags.37 Typically, the citizens of a modern/Weberian state recognize the state’s ultimate sovereignty and are acquiescent when it regulates their public affairs and exacts their participation in state mechanisms such as taxation. The very principle of citizenship is the shortest formulation of the social contract. But the Jordanian model is a divergent one inasmuch as it limits the extension of citizenship. Islamists, however, are in a sense above citizenship, for theirs is intensive oneness with Jordanian political life. This modus operandi of the state and Islamists has its basis in something other than citizenship. The privileged position of Islamists as a historical and well-organized bloc has fueled Jordan’s democratic adventure. Islamists have always appreciated democratic processes as the legal means of maximizing their interests. They have a variety of axes to grind with the monarchy, so their participation in the body politic enhances the functioning of democracy. Yet their pragmatic approach to human rights, liberalization, and democratization leaves them free of ideological drive, so they have always participated without embarrassment in the monarchy’s reform agendas.38 The paradox that characterizes their activism is obvious. It should be mentioned also that Islamists have never given up their several traditional reservations on issues such as the reform of the status of women: During the recent honor-crimes debate, Abdul Latif Arabiyat, secretary general of the Islamic Action Front Party, explained their position as follows: “We feel that whoever is leading all these campaigns for change is aiming to demoralizing our society, and the women’s issue has been used by the West against Arabs and Muslims to push Arab women into abandoning their honor and values and starting to act like animals.”39 (According to Lisa Taraki, democratization processes exclude Islamists on cultural issues.) 40 The status that is extended to Islamists in Jordan is not value-neutral, since it cannot extend to all people. It is also not rational, since it lacks a legal and institutional basis. Rather, it depends on mere favor, which is by nature mutative. As a rule, citizenship is adequate to establish state authority as the ultimate power at all levels. However, due to the sovereignty crisis, the government in Jordan is obliged to resort to other instruments, such as the modus operandi just cited, in order to protect its authority. How such a state of affairs develops is very clear. Islamists who prefer a brotherhood-based (umma) political ideology to the citizenship concept have undoubtedly impeded the consolidation of sovereignty. Their transnational doctrines have distorted the modern statehood project. Islamists have in principle been skeptical of the idea of “nation.” They support the idea of Muslim brotherhood. For instance,

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they theoretically challenge the idea of a Jordanian nation-state by Islamicizing the Palestinian issue. Accordingly, the distinction between Palestine and Jordan is unacceptable. In their view, which is without any deference to citizenship, Palestinians and Jordanians should have the same rights, as they are part of one umma, regardless of their citizenship or origin. The Islamicizing of any political issue entails challenges to the state or a nation-based state system. It should be mentioned that having witnessed and endured colonially imposed borders and institutions, Muslims still experience trauma when dealing with the post-Caliphatic world order. They are still in the process of adjusting to the post-Caliphatic world order.41 The differences between the two world orders are challenging: Islamists understand the Palestinian issue in the context of their ideology, which rests on a presumption of universal respect among Muslims. No bargain, therefore, can attach to the Palestinian issue, and this makes a burden of that issue in the new (the post-Caliphatic) world order. Islamists present a worldview that is alien in the new world order, for it is one in which human reason has little role: “This land [Palestine] can never be subjected to bargaining since it is a trust whose preservation is the responsibility of all Muslims generations until the Judgment Day.”42 In sharp contrast to this Islamist view, the modern state protects its ultimate autonomy in defining its interests exclusively in accordance with reason. Thus, there is a philosophical clash between Islamist ideology and modern statehood. This clash is visible also in Jordan’s foreign policy: On several occasions, Islamists have accused Jordanian elite of betrayal and criticized the treaty signed with Israel in 1994. Even though fraction between Islamist groups and the state is apparent, as the examples cited above show, the state has been forced to cooperate with them. So long as citizenship fails to become the institution that forges the bond between state and people, tribal and religious modus operandi contracts will play an important role. This is the typical plight of states in which there is hybridized sovereignty. Short of control of some aspects of state, the state cooperates with some actors and hinders others. This tactic may realize short-term goals, but it inevitably loses control of the long-term goals of nation building.

The Failure of Central Authority Another important sovereignty crisis in terms of state–society relations is the failure of the central authority in Jordan. Since the creation of modern Jordan, the Palestinians have posed problems that impede the establishment of efficient central rule. This has frustrated an important institution of modern statehood: domestic sovereignty. As already noted, domestic sovereignty is the inviolate sovereignty of the state.43 It is manifest as the ultimate authority of the ruler/government within the borders of the state that is not subject to any other authority. Domestic sovereignty is the essential pillar of the modern state. If a national government has less than full control of all

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parts of a country, domestic sovereignty does not obtain in that country. How the Palestinian problem mounted a domestic-sovereignty crisis in Jordan is an enlightening case study of frustrated state building. During the reign of Abdullah I, the official policy was to establish a Greater Syria. All aspects of Abdullah’s policy served this objective. Transjordan, for Abdullah, was a stepping-stone to Greater Syria. The new Palestinians in Jordan were therefore perceived as regular citizens. Paradoxically, the most important obstacle to the attainment of Jordanian national identity was Abdullah’s policy. Abdullah urged his followers to identify themselves not by geographical region but as members of the Arab nation.44 In other words, the idea of a Jordanian nation-state was challenged by the Arabist agenda of Abdullah I, which was definitely a transnational project. In keeping with his Arabism, King Abdullah I appointed many Arabs from Palestine, even Syria, to important posts. He nominated a new Senate in which half the members were Palestinian, and he inaugurated a new government that included Palestinian refugees and non-refugees. Despite the Arabist agenda, the differences between Palestinians and Jordanians were obvious. But it was not until the reign of King Hussein that clashes between Palestinians and Jordanians began to occur. For the Jordanian state, the post-1948 situation was more than satisfactory, as it was clearly understood that the Arab block did not have the capacity to dislodge Israel. However, the rift between the state and the Palestinians over the pursuit of the Arab cause increased the influence of several pan-Arabist ideologies, among them revolutionary effects of Nasserism, over those of the Palestinian groups. These developments created issues of trust between the two communities. Gradually, the Arabist discourse that was prominent during the reign of Abdullah I was abandoned with King Hussein’s preference for a Jordanian brand of Arab nationalism. According to Hussein, it was only Jordanian nationalism that could deliver stability and protection against regional effects such as Nasserism. He said: He [Nasser] believes that Arab nationalism can only be identified by a particular brand of Arab unity . . . I disagree . . . Arab nationalism can only survive through complete equality.45

This shift of course upset the Palestinians and they rallied to important antigovernment movements. Especially between 1967 and 1970, the PLO was a serious threat to King Hussein’s authority. As the limits of the Jordanian nation-state prohibited the realization of an identity that encompasses both Palestinian and Jordanian identities, the relationship between the two groups was fractious.46 A development that complicated this situation was the PLO’s decision to establish the main base of its operations against Israel in Jordan after the 1967 War. This rise in PLO assertiveness, which was an explicit instance of the kind of Palestinian self-representation in the Jordanian state structure that King Hussein had always opposed, directly challenged the Hashemite

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identity of Jordan. To boot, the PLO created serious problems for the Jordanian state. The clash between Israel and PLO jeopardized the fragile situation in Jordan: It invited Israeli attacks on vital Jordanian economic projects, dissipated Jordanian sovereignty, and polarized the Jordanian population. In effect, the PLO had in a very short time succeeded in building a state-within-a-state with its own social institutions.47 It was after 1967 that separate Palestinian identity became the subject of a political discourse that displaced the previously dominant one about the Jordanian-Palestinian banking system.48 In the ensuing years, several Palestinian guerilla attacks were organized from Jordanian territory. Israeli military forces retaliated by attacking Jordan’s villages. This put a major strain on Jordan’s relationship with the United States and other Western countries. Jordan was fully aware of the damage the PLO was inflicting on its international standing. What is more, Palestinian freedom to maneuver in Jordanian territory created several other authority problems. As expected, the Palestinian leadership did not welcome Jordan’s opposition to PLO guerilla attacks. Each side had misgivings about the other’s political intentions. Given the large numbers of Palestinians in the country, Jordan’s capacity to counterbalance the Palestinian movements was severely limited. Worse, tens of thousands Palestinian warriors and guerillas were being trained on Jordanian territory. They were using Jordanian territory not just for military training but also for controlling their main bases of operation. The result was that the PLO became a de facto government that controlled substantial parts of Jordan. Regional developments in other Arab states accelerated Palestinian militarism in Jordan. The Arab states’ failure against Israel made Palestinians believe in the need to fall back on their own resources. Rather than expect an Arab front against Israel, they decided to defend their rights by attacking Israel directly. Consequently, Palestinian guerilla attacks from Jordanian territory intensified in the early 1970s. Whereas Hussein was not happy about what was happening, he had of necessity to accommodate the PLO and its Jordanian supporters, so he made no move to close their training facilities. Nevertheless, this accommodation policy did not guarantee the Jordanian state’s ultimate authority in all parts of the country. An open struggle ensued between the government and the guerrilla organizations for political control of the country. This showed that the government was in a typical domestic-sovereignty crisis. Based in the Jordan’s refugee camps, the Palestinian guerillas (fedayeen) were virtually a state within a state. They were also obtaining financial support from other countries. Having their own financial resources, they were buying arms and other military equipment. The heavy Israeli reprisals that followed each guerilla attack became a matter of grave concern to the state. All these developments were obviously jeopardizing Jordanian sovereignty and its legal system. Meanwhile, several efforts by the Jordanian army to disarm refugee camps had failed. While King Hussein sought new political solutions for the problem, the army attempted to suppress guerrilla activity. These attempts

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could not end the de facto control of some parts of Jordanian territory by the fedayeen. They were in constant search of ways to extend their influence over the Jordanian population. They called for a general strike and organized a civil disobedience campaign. The fedayeen not only organized military attacks but also carried out different social and political programs. A condominium, or co-rule, appeared to have established itself in the country. However, when several Palestinian groups launched an airplane hijacking campaign, Jordan decided to put an end to fedayeen activity in its territory. Several Israeli and American airplanes were hijacked by Palestinian guerillas, which quickly became an international crisis. The fedayeen declared that they aimed to undermine the peace talks between some Arab states and Israel. The hijackings were viewed by Jordan as a direct threat to its authority. King Hussein quickly declared martial law and put together a new cabinet in which there were several army officers. The most important symbolic event was the appointment of a famous pro-royalist Bedouin soldier as the new commander-in-Chief of the armed forces. He was given full powers under the martial law to suppress guerillas. The fedayeen were asked not only to lay down arms but also to evacuate the cities. This launched the civil war between Jordan and the Palestinian guerillas. What remained of state–PLO relations collapsed in September 1970, when the guerilla forces of the PLO and the royalist forces of the Hashemite government engaged in open war. This war resulted in a bloody Hashemite victory and the expulsion of the PLO guerilla forces from Jordan. Even though Jordan had launched the war to restore its authority, it was understood that the case was extremely internationalized. On the one hand, there were Arab states like Syria ready to support the fedayeen. Syria sent military forces to Jordan to help the fedayeen. They attempted a military coup in northern Jordan in support of the PLO. Paradoxically, it was the United States and Israel, who feared the end of the Hashemite regime in Jordan, who were ready to help restore it. It was this international pressure that forced Syria to withdraw its forces from Jordan. Finally, the fedayeen were defeated by the military and a ceasefire was signed in September. Backed indirectly by international powers, the Hashemite forces ultimately defeated the PLO forces and continued the military campaign against them through the summer of 1971.49 Accordingly, the guerillas executed a rapid withdrawal from Jordanian cities and towns to positions more appropriate for continuing the battle with Israel and for negotiating the release of prisoners from both sides. Moreover, the fedayeen were required to recognize Jordanian sovereignty, to withdraw their armed forces from towns and villages, and to refrain from carrying arms outside their camps. The struggle between the government and the fedayeen shows how domestic sovereignty, an essential part of modern statehood, was violated in Jordan. Even though the Palestinian groups were eventually brought under control, similar situations in different formats flared up in the following years; however, they fell short of civil war. As they have never been incorporated into

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the Jordanian nation through the necessary legal and political processes, the Palestinians have maintained a separate constituency. This in itself is a sovereignty-crises symptom.

Tribalism The non-military methods deployed against Palestinian guerilla are also significant in a study of the hybrid nature of Jordanian sovereignty. As explained above, the colonially imposed model failed to encompass all groups in Jordan, as witnessed by the civil war that erupted between the government and the fedayeen. To counterbalance the Palestinian threat, the government, as a typical hybrid sovereign, utilized its tribes. In theory, when colonially imposed models fail to encompass all groups, regimes protect themselves by enlisting the support of groups loyal to them. That is, rulers who fail to assert exclusive authority, which is a failure to acquire a popular legitimacy, inevitably develop sectarian or tribal agendas.50 Undoubtedly, the tribal mechanism is unacceptable as a tool of modern statehood. Therefore, when a state plays the tribal card to consolidate its power, there is ipso facto a sovereignty crisis, for tribal power is inimical to the consolidation of modernstate sovereignty.51 Having defeated the Palestinian guerilla, the government launched a detailed political program to annihilate the source of the problems faced in the previous years. The struggle against the Palestinian guerilla was not limited to military methods. The popularity of the guerillas was such a serious challenge to the Jordanian state and regime that a comprehensive campaign was unleashed against them by the military and political leadership of the country. A systematic agenda was geared to undermine their popularity. Even rumors that alleged their atheism and their collaboration with the Zionists became part of the government’s arsenal. Eventually, this was expanded to a much more socially inclusive program: The government decided to set the tribal groups against the Palestinians. Scheming cannily, it paved the way for the first tribal meeting between state and tribal groups. The mobilization of the Bedouin tribes was one of the most important elements of its strategy. It was no surprise that the government recalled that the monarchy had always relied on Bedouin support for its social and military aims. This particular government scheme took off with the help of high-ranking police and army officers who hailed from Bedouin tribes. Many preeminent names of tribal pedigree were enlisted by the government in its efforts to destroy Palestinian power. Retired officers, tribal chiefs, and high-ranking government administrators of Bedouin origin were sought for this government service. Finally, the campaign was coupled with financial donations taken from the military budget and directed to the tribes for the purpose of arming them.52 Pursing its tribal agenda, the government scheduled the first convention for February 20, 1970. More than two hundred tribal Bedouin chiefs

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and notables attended. They advocated harsh punishments for unlawful guerillas.53 Expectedly, military attacks against the guerillas intensified soon after. These security operations were directed by officers of Bedouin background. Well-organized tribal recruitment followed these attacks. The government had understood perfectly that only tribal loyalty, the substation of citizenship, would effect the restoration of political stability and central authority in Jordan. Several other conventions on varying scales also took place. Keyed by governmental policy, several local groups organized their own conventions to declare their support for the government. In parallel with security operations, a well-organized arrest campaign saw ranking officers detained for sympathizing with the PLO. The success of the state–tribe collation launched a new era. The Al-Tall government even embarked on a new program of reorganizing Jordan’s political structure. Many Palestinians officers were dismissed from their positions. The media, too, were cleared of Palestinians and their sympathizers, and the Al-Tall government closed down some newspapers summarily. After the general purge and on the monarch’s order, the government declared a National Union program. The program rejuvenated the “one Jordan family” slogan with the cry for “liberty, unity, and a better life.”54 After 1971, the Palestinians were regarded en masse as the fifth column, and many Palestinians lost their senior positions in the administration and in the new army. Even though this early storm eventually lost much of its fury, a rift developed between these two sectors of the society.55 The removal of Palestinians from the bureaucracy and the military naturally reduced their representation in the state. The old slogan “Jordan is Palestine, Palestine is Jordan” gave way to a new one: “Jordan is Jordan, Palestine is Palestine.” The Arabist discourse was thereby shelved, and a new program came to the fore, bent on shaping a new Jordanian consciousness: Jordanian territorialism was projected from a secular vision of history that appropriated equally the pre-Islamic and the Islamic and modern Arab history of the land that became Jordan, all embraced as vestiges of a specifically Jordanian heritage.56

Many archaeological excavations were carried out in order to support the thesis of a Jordanian identity. Several other social, educational, and cultural projects contributed to this nation-building agenda. At last, years after its establishment, the Jordanian state had had to put its shoulder to the task of creating its identity and nationhood. In sharp contrast to the Abdullah I’s model, for Hussein “Jordan is not a stepping-stone of last resort to other, greater domains, but a model in its own right for Jordanians to be proud of and for other Arabs to follow.”57 The Jordanization process naturally changed the characteristics of state machinery. Jordanians came to dominate the bureaucracy in a very short time. Palestinians could predominate only in the private sector.58

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The state’s engagement of the tribes against the Palestinian guerillas is certainly important in an analysis of how Western sovereignty was challenged in Jordan. Tribal loyalty came to the fore as an important link between the tribes and the state. The tribes’ readiness to be provoked into taking a stand against the Palestinians was clear evidence that the Jordanian political system’s primary dependence at that time was on primordial patterns. It was the primordial loyalty mechanism that had rescued the government from domestic threat. The tribal role is still crucial in political life. Therefore, the government handles them with kid gloves. The Jordanian kings juxtapose images of tradition and modernity in artful ways. This is manifest in the laudations they gave themselves: Liberal Democratizer, Monarch, Descendant of the Prophet, Secularist, and Sheikh of all Tribal Sheiks.59 The admixture of identities (Jordanians, Palestinians, Islamists, and so on) in Jordan forces the monarchy to assume multifaceted faces. Nevertheless, there is no shared sense of Jordanian identity in Jordan. There are still discrete constituencies. The government is still in need of a harmonizing vehicle that will bring them together. How the government deals with the various groups is not always the same. For example, King Hussein did not hesitate to declare his support for a tribebased society. In 1998, King Hussein defended the tribes against media criticism by declaring that whatever harms the tribes harms Jordan, and that will always be so.60 At the same time, the king also projected himself as a modern leader whose authority rests on modern institutions. This recognition of traditional and modern seats of political authority leaves the country in a permanent state of confusion.

Palestinians Today: The Continuing Crisis of Sovereignty The Palestinian constituency is still very important in terms of state–society relations. It is a fact that regional and local developments have transformed the Palestinian problem in the Jordanian context. Although there is no expectation of domestic rebellion now, several important issues, such as the consolidation of citizenship and the consolidation of central rule, are still in need of energetic address. An important development came in 1998. When it was understood that an independent Palestinian state was to be established, Jordan announced that it would give up its administration of the West Bank. This was the end of Jordan’s claim to sovereignty over the area. Also, the Jordanian parliament, in which the West Bank had representation, was dissolved in deference to the West Bank development. After the announcement, the Palestine National Council declared that it would take over responsibility for the administrative of the West Bank. Accordingly, in August of that year, Jordan stopped paying the salaries of many officials in the region, including those of civil servants and teachers.61 The end of Jordanian rule over the West Bank threw up a dramatic citizenship problem.

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The Royal Decree of July 31, 1988, nullified the Jordanian citizenship of an estimated three-quarter-million Palestinians.62 As in 1948, the idea of a “Jordanian nation” assumed a new definition. But in no way did this mean the end of relations between the Palestinians and the Jordanian ruling elite. Thanks to geographical, historical, and social facts, it is a still vital feature of Jordanian politics. Though there are differences among estimates, it is clear that today more than half the population of Jordan is of Palestinian origin.63 Even though only Jordan extended citizenship to Palestinians, and there are many Palestinian office holders, there is still a divide between Jordanians and Palestinians. (See Abbas Shiblak on how the venture of Palestinians to other Arab states contributed to the nascent Palestinian identity64 and Rosemary Sayigh on the complex traumatic experiences of Palestinians as refugees.) 65 For instance, important posts are, and have traditionally been, largely withheld from Palestinians. There are therefore few Palestinians in the upper echelons of decision-making. In other words, there is well-institutionalized discrimination in Jordan and key personalities of the royal court are disproportionately drawn from the Hashemite family itself and from prominent Transjordanian Muslim families, tribes, and clans. (Several Palestinians have served as prime ministers, but this happened mostly during the Palestiniancrisis years.) This distribution is readily apparent, especially in the security forces. After the civil war, the number of Palestinians in the army was drastically reduced. Then several new regulations increased their representation in the army. But in principle, a desire to keep suspect Palestinians out of the armed forces is apparent.66 Other offices were similarly purged. Yet developments in Palestine have remained the natural concerns of Jordanian political and social life. Therefore, it is a duty of the Jordanian government to position and declare itself on the Palestinian problem at all levels. What makes the government’s position awkward is the trans-territorial feature of the Palestinian question. It is a problem for Jordanians if the Palestinians view Jordan as their natural space. Therefore, the Palestinian question has also negatively affected the idea of national homeland in Jordan. What Jamil al-Tarifi, a minister in the Palestinian Authority, once said reflects what is for Jordanians a thorny position: “While we live under the Israeli blockade, Jordan will always remain a warm place to seek refuge in.” Adding more discomfort, Al-Tarifi opined that the relation between Jordan and Palestine is a unique one, governed by historical bonds.67 Because half the Jordanian population is Palestinian, Al-Tarifi’s words are alarming. The historical context (the bonds) in which he situates the Palestinians remove them from the “they are a problem in Jordan” context. This contextual shift deftly dis-empowers the Jordanian decision-makers’ initiative, which has been nurturing the “Jordanian nation” idea on a de-contextualized, metaphysical plane. Because of its unique role and position in the Palestinian problem, Jordan remains a refuge for Palestinians. And because of ongoing tension in

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Palestine, new groups continue to move to Jordan. Regional problems, such as the Iraqi–Kuwaiti War, see hundreds of thousands of Palestinians move to Jordan. Such events transform Jordan into a transnational space. To protect Jordan against this, the government has strict border regulations in place. Jordan has defended these border restrictions by positing the danger of an Israeli threat. In June 2001, the Jordanian government once again put strict restrictions into force to stop a Palestinian refugee influx. The Jordanian minister of the interior defended this decision by saying that it was only temporary, and aimed at preventing the Israeli government from achieving its objective of forcing Palestinians to leave their homeland.68 The transnational and trans-territorial characteristics of Palestinians do indeed make Jordan vulnerable to Israeli intervention. Israel frequently uses border closings as opportunities for direct action. Closures, therefore, may well invite trouble for Jordan. If Israel were to perpetuate any instance of a closure, 5,000–15,000 Palestinians might be stranded in Jordan. When Israel closed the border after a religious holiday in 2001, thousands of Palestinians could not go home.69 Many Palestinians describe their predicament as unique with a claim on historical bonds. This description, which depicts the Palestinian problem as borderless, perplexes the essence of state sovereignty. Given the territoriality of the modern-state concept and of sovereignty, a neighborhood encounters problems when it becomes the subject of a proposition that a borderless-state condition obtains in it a priori: a condition that has been established through the historical bonding of its people. Inasmuch as that proposition is also a proposition about Palestinian expectations, the Palestinian problem remains a threat to Jordanian sovereignty. Many Jordanians have noted this. Underlining the link between the Palestinian problem and Jordanian sovereignty, journalist Fahd Al-Fanik wrote: The Jordanian government was right to decide that 250 mass demonstrations and marches, plus 100 political rallies, did the job if the intention was to express how the Jordanian people felt toward their brothers across the Jordan River. The government did the right thing to order a halt to such marches, especially given that it had felt that more such forms of expression carried a risk to state security. The measure meant to say that Jordan’s security is well served by there being a powerful central government that can keep any transgressions in check.70

Al-Fanik’s final words, drawing as they do a straight line between Jordan’s sovereignty and controlling border transgressions, describes the problem succinctly. As Al-Fanik says, how Jordan reacts to the Palestinian issue reveals its caliber as a powerful central authority that can rule its territory efficiently. Palestinian groups are still well organized and they frequently challenge the central authority with street protests and civil disorder in certain cities. The government contends with structural limits on its ability to control its

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border transitions. This marks a sovereignty crisis that generates from interdependence.71 The monarchy still presents itself as a supporter of the Palestinian cause for the practical purpose of courting the loyalty of Palestinians. However, the problem of Palestinian dual loyalty exists nonetheless. A parliamentary discussion in 1998 saw a debate between the two polarized sides of the Jordanian community: During a budget discussion in the parliament, a nationalist deputy, Ahmad al-Abbadi, accused the Jordanians of Palestinian origin of dual loyalty.72 He not only attacked three cabinet ministers of Palestinian origin, but he also accused all Palestinians. Though all officials reacted quickly to what al-Abbadi said, the tension al-Abbadi created become the number-one engagement of the Jordanian public. The Palestinian problem surfaced once more in the context of Iraq–Jordan relations. Public support for Iraq was extensive across the country. Paradoxically, Jordan, which had always lived in danger of splitting along demographic lines, was united by the Gulf crisis.73 Pro-Iraqi, anti-American demonstrations and rallies started on the first day of Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, and continued throughout the American military operations in Saudi Arabia. The king condemned the Allied forces’ air strikes against Iraq, mindful of Saddam Hussein’s immense popularity among his people. By defying Western powers, Saddam had instantly become a hero of the masses, and this popular sentiment certainly influenced the king’s decision to reluctantly keep up his support. Hevo and Pappe describe the pro-Saddam euphoria thus: The vast majority of the Jordanian population readily embraced Saddam with the announcement of the invasion of Kuwait. As a matter of fact, Saddam became the uncontested idol and hero of the Jordanian masses when a few months before the invasion he threatened to set half of Israel ablaze with his unconventional weapons.74

Eventually, public support and meetings in support of Iraq quickened the fears of the Jordanian government about these new difficulties in the consolidation of effective central rule. Apart from the Palestinian demographic, there is the burden of history to consider. The Palestinian issue had succeeded in foisting a social, if not a psychological, load on the Jordanian elite: King Hussein was extremely sensitive about his image in the eyes of the opponents of pan-Arabism and of Arab historiography. In the past, the Hashemites had been the object of Arab nationalist hate for their seemingly conciliatory posture toward British imperialism and Zionism.75 This troubled Hussein, who desperately hoped to set the record straight. Throughout his reign, the king consciously sought to adopt positions that would conform to the patriotic pan-Arab consensus. Thus the Palestinians appeared to have successfully imposed two inextricable obligations on Jordanian foreign policy: commitment to Arabism and commitment to Palestine.76

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Arabism had been a firm thread in Jordanian foreign policy since the early years of King Abdullah I.77 Jordan therefore opposed the deployment of foreign forces in Saudi Arabia from the outset, and accordingly refused to join the coalition against Iraq.78 Jordanian rulers preferred a diplomatic containment through public emotion to military containment. King Hussein expressed his sympathy for Saddam at the Arab summit convened in Cairo. According to the king, the Arab nation was indebted to Iraq after the eight years of war that the country had fought against Iran to protect Arab security.79 This incident showed that the Jordanian state of the time continued to find it difficult to divorce itself from the Arab community and its history. The importance in Jordan of the Palestinian constituency is still beyond doubt. But the truce with the Palestinians is fragile. For example, after the killing of Al-Rantisi, the Hamas leader in Gaza, thousands of Palestinians marched to express their anger. Palestinian refugees in important camps such as Al Buqqa also supported the demonstrations.80 Similar demonstrations are ordinary events in Jordanian political life. Any serious development between Palestine and Israel directly influences Jordanian political life. Palestinian resistance against Israeli forces especially incites fire in Jordanian society.81 The Jordanian Palestinians, even though they live in Jordan, do not perceive themselves as having left the Palestinian context. The transnational and trans-territorial ramifications of this are considerable, and Israeli is not slow to use them to influence the Jordanian political structure. For example, Israel forces Jordanian holders of yellow cards to obtain Palestinian passports. As these people can hold temporary passports, this means the naturalization of some 200,000 people in Jordan. This move, according to Jordanian officials, is part of a long-term plan to turn Jordan into an alternative homeland for Palestinians.82 Israeli interference through the Palestinians is another sovereignty problem for Jordan. Crises between the two states are common. Several Israeli attempts to expel Palestinians from the West Bank on the pretext that they are Jordanians have been rejected by Jordan. The Jordanian side argues that as the West Bank is their homeland, Palestinians should stay there.83 Fearing a new Palestinian inflow, Jordan looks to the international community to champion the right of return of Palestinians to their homeland. The legal framework for this is the December 1948 UN General Assembly Resolution 194,84 which affirmed that refugees wishing to return to their homes and live in peace with their neighbors should be permitted to do so at the earliest practicable date. The right of return has always been taken very seriously in Jordan. The consensus is that all Palestinians have a natural right to return to their homeland. This tenet is central in both Jordanian–Palestinian and Jordanian– Israeli relations. In October 2003, several reports were published claiming that a secret accord (the Geneva Accord) signed by both Israeli and Palestinian delegations contained a clause by which the Palestinians renounced the right of return to areas in the State of Israel.85 This drew strong criticism from

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Jordan.86 Having recognized the potential and ongoing problems of displaced Palestinians, it has been Jordanian’s top diplomatic priority to defend the right of return. While it is open to question that an abrogation of this right had really occurred, why Jordan remonstrated against it is quite clear: demanding the right of return for Palestinians, Jordan is free to pursue a policy of protecting its domestic demographic balance against a new Palestinian inflow.

Liberalization: A New Social Contract? Facing important social and political problems, the government has tried to initiate a new political agenda to solve them. The traumatic years during the Gulf War and the following developments forced Jordan to reorganize its political structure, including several important areas such as the social contract and the political system. However, the Jordanian economy’s chronic problems pose the greatest obstacles in the path of such agendas. Historically, economic problems have dominated state–society relations in Jordan. The modern-state formation process here was never accompanied by economic reform, as it had been in Europe. The Western-state model was the product of complex social, economic, and political transformations in Europe. However, this model was superimposed on the rapidly conceived Jordan as if it had had the benefit of the European experience. The new state put the Western model into operation without the necessary infrastructure. This is the basic reason for Jordan’s sovereignty problems. The lack of an economic basis naturally impeded the consolidation of the other institutions of state: citizenship, national identity, cohesion. Without a national market, national boundaries were insufficient for creating national cohesion. Central governments can amalgamate diverse groups as a national union through a national-market development scheme. But such moves directly limit a central government’s planning power. In Jordan, this has for years been the evident economic reality. Economic problems have limited Jordan’s success in dealing with the problems of Palestinians and tribalism. The same economic problems have impeded the separation of domestic and international spheres. Jordan’s industrial and economic base is extremely narrow. Only 5 percent of the total land area is arable. The contribution of phosphates, the only natural resource, to the national income is only 3–4 percent.87 Besides, located in the midst of regional hostilities, Jordan has to make budgetary accommodation for a sizeable armed force. As economic sovereignty is a fundamental component of national sovereignty, sovereignty problems in other spheres of public life are inevitable and predictable. In practical terms, economic dependence implies political dependence.88 Jordan has never had a national market, and the government has had to breathe life into an artificial state that lacks any really distinct geographical or human base.89 In no Arab hybrid-sovereign state has there been a dynamic relationship between the

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economy and society. In Europe and elsewhere, economic transformation produced the bourgeoisie, who shaped state formation, and vice versa. In Jordan, however, the lack of an economic base is extreme. There is serious need to create and consolidate an economic base that is capable of bourgeois momentum.90 The Jordanian state has always had to find some exogenous resource that enables its survival. It is an agent/actor that formulates foreign policy according to the opportunities circulating in the international system. Ryan remarks that “given its minimal endowments, the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan has throughout its history been dependent on foreign assistance to keep its economy afloat.” 91 Exogenous factors have been decisive, for the economy depends on a large service sector, remittances from workers in other Arab states, and foreign aid.92 Thus, the main weakness of Jordan’s economy is its heavy dependence on economic and political developments outside its borders. Such an economy presumes considerable flexibility in foreign policy. The Jordanian foreign policy aims to mobilize and utilize foreign aid and resources for economic and social development.93 This is why the history of Jordanian foreign policy has seen so many radical changes. Change occurs as a route to maximizing economic benefit presents itself. Brand’s formula for budget security is instructive on the essential logic behind all Jordanian foreign-policy decisions. Accordingly, budget security can be defined as a state’s or leadership’s drive to ensure the financial flows necessary for its survival.94 The critical factor in Jordan from the mid-1970s until the 1991 Gulf War was the Hashemite regime’s concern about the state budget. Thus, Jordan’s relations with other Arab states were ultimately shaped by the regime’s need to avoid a domestic budgetary crisis. Such a crisis cripples a state’s ability to distribute jobs and services and finance its security apparatus.95 In brief, what Jordan tried was to shore up its deficits through external alignment, and thereby to import exogenous benefits. Bassel F. Salloukh has dubbed this foreign-policy strategy “Husseinism,” which, he says, is: . . . a multi-level, interactive strategy that exhibits the role of domestic determinants in shaping regime foreign policy and consequently, the regime’s instrumental use of extra-regional and regional policies to consolidate and legitimize its rule.96

To reaffirm itself as a product of the international system, Jordan tries to protect its sovereignty by depending on that system. When Jordan was created, “it had no reason to be a state on its own rather than a part of Syria, or of Palestine, or of Saudi Arabia, or of Iraq, except that it better served Britain’s interest to be so.” 97 Therefore, since its creation, Jordan has tried to present itself as important to the system. Like many other colonial creations injected with a Western-state model, Jordan had neither the economy nor the political infrastructure for sustaining that model. Therefore, it has to focus

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on the balance between itself and the international system, and seek maximum benefit from that system. But this dependency has created the characteristic set of problems. Jordan has always felt the effect of system-originated endemics such as Arabism, and of an assortment of international, regional, and economic events. But then, any colonial creation is a stage in the expansion of the international system, so the system serves itself when it protects a colonial creation from internal or external damage. In a very real sense, then, colonial creations need the international system to defend them from challenging traditional and indigenous insurrection. Laurie Brand’s conclusion about Jordan’s relations with Iraq and Syria between 1975 and 1981 is definitive for our case: Although various regional factors, particularly developments in the Arab-Israeli conflict, have long been used to explain Jordanian foreign policy behavior, the timing and the nature of the Jordanian alignment behavior this period is best explained in terms of the drive to ensure state-revenue sources. 98

Karla J. Cunningham makes a similar point quite candidly: Jordanian foreign policy decisions have been directed toward offsetting its vulnerability to external actors and their ability to instigate or exacerbate internal challenges to the Hashemite monarchy.99

In other words, faced with structural political and economic deficits, Jordan, focusing on survival, took remedial action. Not only in the domestic realm but also on the international level, it has been a state priority to arrange all political action in the framework of survival strategy. Jordan’s shifting foreign policy on Iraq, in the context of the first Gulf War and its aftermath, is readily understood from this perspective. As part of his “survival by foreign policy” tactic, when King Hussein began to sense that a new regional configuration that might endanger Jordan’s position was emerging, he quickly shifted his stance on the Gulf War. This shift could well explain the shift from Arabism to the Jordanianrealist foreign policy.100 These shifts were not unique; the Jordanian foreign policy of the 1960s and 1970s had seen similar scenarios. Then, as in the aftermath of the First Gulf War, the regime’s primary goal was to secure stability and survival.101 Thus, the logic of the shift in Jordanian foreign policy over Iraq and of the shift that saw the signing of the peace accord with Israel in 1994 have the same pattern. Jordan has to conduct both its domestic and foreign policy in the context of its traditional state–society dynamic on the basis of two realities: economic deficits and the existence of different constituencies. In sum, the colonial deficit makes Jordan dependent on external economic and political support. This is a structural problem. Unlike other states that choose to give

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up their sovereignty in order to maximize their economic interests, Jordan has to do this in order to survive. It should be underlined that Jordan’s policies are intended not just to ensure the security of Jordan as a state, but also to ensure the survival of Jordan as a Hashemite monarchy.102 This deficit influences major issues of foreign policy. Not only the Iraqi case but also relations with the PLO and Jordan’s role in the Peace Process are directly influenced by Jordan’s dependency on external aid. Such economic deficiency is important in understanding the failure of the Western model in Jordan. The Jordanian elite concluded that without a functional market, it is hardly possible to accomplish nation-state formation. Having recognized the structural handicap of a poor economic base, the government launched an economic liberalization program in 1989. This program was a real turning point in the history of the kingdom, for it attempted to eradicate many traditional and established structures through political liberalization and a democratization program that was expected to foster a genuinely modern civil society. This program, aiming to enhance political participation based on citizenship and to loosen central government control in the political, media and economic sectors, tried to create a modern politico-economic basis for the state. Certainly, this program was a typical attempt at changing the status quo. It was meant to be a new social contract between state and society. Jordan’s limited capacity, in view of foreign-policy constraints it had to respect for maintaining its traditional social contract, necessitated major changes in domestic and foreign politics. It was understood that previous methods had failed, and that new ones were needed: “Jordan’s political opening emerged based on the political economy of Hashemite regime survival.”103 These measures were intended to ensure the long-term survival of the regime in a post–Cold War, post–Gulf War, and even post–King Hussein world.104 Foremost among these measures was an economic pillar: Jordan initiated cooperation with the International Monetary fund (IMF). Since the IMF’s main concern was with Jordan’s enormous budget deficit (Jordan had stopped servicing its bilateral government loans), its plan included measures for cutting government expenditures as drastically as possible.105 The resultant cut-backs in state subsidies and expenditures quickly caused big riots in important cities such as Ma’an. The sharp rises in the price of basic items such as bread and oil were protested by thousands of people. Protests continued throughout the reforms of 1989 and the 2000s. The social reaction to the IMF program was significant. Surprisingly, riots had broken out in areas that were traditionally the most supportive of the monarchy, that is, in the Transjordanian, not Palestinian or Islamist, communities.106 The loyalists’ desertion of the monarchy was evidence of a new kind of statehood crisis. Since the formation of the kingdom, the regime had been forced to rely on premodern instruments of tribalism and regionalism even as it was seeking

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to establish a modern sovereign state and a national identity. However, it was eventually understood that this hybrid project, which deployed both modern and traditional instruments, could not guarantee survival. “Economic constrains pressed the regime to open up the political system in order re-establish its own basis for legitimacy and survival.”107 In other words, the IMF-led reform program was an attempt to replace the former authoritativebargaining model with a new liberal-bargaining one. It aimed to restructure relations between the monarchy and the major actors of the society.108 This was obviously a regime-survival strategy.109 However, the strategy received heaviest criticism from the regime’s former loyalists. Why? The answer is straightforward: The traditional authoritative-bargain model had always favored the loyalist Transjordanians. The new liberal-bargain model was to work on the basis of citizenship and it offered the loyalists none of the privileges they had long considered their due. Meanwhile, the government launched a new official program to advance the nation-building process in the social and cultural context. There was a massive public relations effort in October 2002 that saw the phrase “Jordan First” plastered on billboards, banners, posters, and bumper stickers across the country. (The Ministry of Foreign Affairs constructed its own description of the project.110 Saban Center for Middle East Policy offers a critical review of it.)111 The “Jordan First” slogan was surely chosen so that no Jordanian could oppose the campaign without appearing unpatriotic. Some Jordanians expressed support for it, both publicly and privately. The common sentiment was that even though the problems of the Palestinians and Iraqis warrant attention, Jordan needs to look to its own needs first. Others, however, saw the campaign as a means of suppressing political dissent. This nation-devising project was expected to complete the liberalization efforts by forging “a melting pot that fortifies the national fabric for all Jordanian men and women and respects the diversity of their propensities, origins, attitudes, races and feelings.” The project sought to integrate all constituencies both nationally and socially. The motto “our Jordanian pluralism” was put forward, together with several other ideas like “a modern, coherent civil society that prospers in a climate of freedom, parliamentary democracy, supremacy of the law, social justice, and equal opportunity.” Pride in the homeland was especially emphasized. Introduced as “a social accord between Jordanian men and women, individuals and groups, the government and the opposition,” the campaign presented citizenship as the basis of the new social contract: “ ‘Jordan First’ consecrates the concept of citizenship as a basic Constitution-guaranteed right that cannot be violated.” It was emphatic on the point that no one is more privileged than another, except in reward for services to the homeland and the people. All this showed the government to be fully aware of the main deficits in statehood and state–society relations. Nevertheless, the monarchy continues to have misgivings about the relationship between people and state. Along with many other antidemocratic measures, the electoral policy retains a mechanism for engineering politics as

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it has done for decades. Indeed, this policy implements an electoral regime and creates a political climate that is more typical of an authoritarian rather than democratic state.112 The state effort to control election outcomes is obvious and has two motives: one is to prevent the reemergence of an organized Palestinian movement, the other to discourage any possibility of a radicalized urban political opposition that parliamentary democracy can unleash. Such an opposition could take a political course sharply at a variance with that of the present regime.113 A primary strategy of the regime’s election manipulation is the underrepresentation of urban centers on electoral lists. For example, Amman and Zarqa accounted for 54 percent of the nation’s population in 1999. Yet the Electoral Law of 2001 allotted these two electoral districts only 32 percent of seats in the National Assembly, whereas the Mafraq, Karak, Tafileh, and Ma’an districts, which account for only 12 percent of the population, were allotted 21 percent seats.114 The reason for this pattern of seat allocation is obvious: the largest groups of Palestinian origin live in Amman and Zarqa, and Mafraq, Karak, Tafileh, and Ma’an have historically displayed the strongest support for Hashemite rule. This is indirect disenfranchisement of some parts of the population. Undoubtedly this electoral-system fault reveals another failure of the citizenship project in Jordan. It distorts what might otherwise be a rational relationship between state and society. As things stand, tribal and regional patterns again dominate the political process. The government introduced the one-person-one-vote system in 1993. In previous elections, a multi-vote system was in place in which voters each enjoyed as many votes as the number of seats their electoral district held. However, that resulted in unprecedented victory for the Islamist opposition. It should be noted also that the election process in Jordan was typically a tribal affair. The tribes organized their own local conventions for selecting candidates. Indeed, many candidates presented themselves as tribal rather than party-political candidates. In line with tribal solidarity, voters set family and clan allegiances over political and ideological inclinations. In the June 2003 elections, an estimated 18,000 voters traveled from Amman to their tribal hometowns to vote for their tribal contender.115 The question to be asked is: “Has the electoral process [in the context of the political and economic liberalization project] indeed provided meaningful avenues for political participation in the kingdom?”116 Or, despite the reforms, is political life still under the influence of traditional tribalism and the “authorities bargain” contract between the Hashemites and the traditional elite? An analysis of elections between 1989 and 2003 yields the conclusion that even though political life was liberalized to the extent that the new oneman-one-vote electoral system allows for greater civil participation, the traditional factional influence of Islamists and tribes remains a significant feature. The 1997 elections made that especially clear: Even though boycotts were widespread, the new “. . . parliament was a virtual sweep for political centrists, pro-regime conservatives, and tribal candidates.”117

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Status Quo versus Reform According to Gudrun Kramer, Jordan, unlike several Arab states, displays a complex setup in which Islamic activism and communal loyalties (the Palestinians’) are to a certain extent connected or interrelated.118 Even though the government quelled the riots in Ma’an in November 2002, this complex setup is still prone to produce significant problems. Thus, from a Weberian perspective, Jordan looks like a weak state because of its inability to establish a working modern-state infrastructure. Despite its efforts to develop such an infrastructure, the International Crisis Group (ICG) still sees Jordan as a hybrid sovereign: The regime’s Achilles heel is the feeble bond of trust between most citizens and the state. Meaningful relationships are based primarily on family or tribal loyalties, being broadly perceived as non-transparent, unresponsive and unaccountable. This extends from the omnipotent security services, through the police, to civil servants protecting the state’s interests at all corners of the bureaucracy.119

Indeed, Jordan has existed on a crisis-management basis that has sought to address each problem as it arises with whichever available instrument the regime considers appropriate. As a result, a fragile political system has been perpetuated. So long as the nation-building project fails to create a political infrastructure of rational and neutral institutions, a hybrid-state model will stay in place, together with the factional distrust that has always characterized it. There are two competing camps in Jordan: one argues that the status quo should be maintained, given the unstable international environment and the local economic problems. For them, any political and economic liberalization poses a threat to the country’s survival. This group camp is not averse to resorting to violence, or to any other irregular method such as controlling the political process and the media, and through that, the country. According to the adherents of this camp, a democratic state can come into being only when other problems are resolved. To focus on “real” problems, the domestic opposition must be silenced, and political liberalization should follow economic achievement. A typical representative of this camp, Faisal Fayez, former minister of the royal court, said that they were forced to postpone elections because of external factors. According to him, change can happen only when economic development takes off. Political development will follow. This camp considers Western democracy to be alien in the region. Any democratization process has to be tightly managed lest the process unleash passions and interests that puts Jordanian stability and unity at risk.120 Even though this camp is not against democracy per se, its members prefer a Jordanian model to any imported Western model. The other camp argues that a national solution cannot be expected from the status quo. Its members call for economic and political reforms that will

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invalidate resort to extraordinary instruments by the state. They underline the importance of enhancing civil rights, democracy, and the market economy. Several reformist prime ministers have come from this camp. International attitudes support the position of this camp, opining in the main that to capture the attention of the West and secure Western aid, Jordan should continue its liberalization programs. In the words of Mustafa al-Qaisi, a former minister of state, Jordan’s strength lies in the fact that it is more open than the rest of the region. Thus, its best security lies in opening up still further.121

Conclusion The construction of a modern state on the basis of the classic Weberian concept is still only a remote possibility in Jordan. Its multiple constituencies and the lack of an economic base will force Jordan to remain a hybrid-model state: This state must espouse a “budget security” foreign policy in order to survive. The colonial project, which had shaped Jordan as an imperial commitment, created a state without many important institutions, features, or actors other than the monarchy. Rather than the success of its nationbuilding efforts, it is international balance that has ensured its survival. However, survival does not imply modern statehood or even its advent. The truth of March Lynch’s proposition that the Arab state system is a public sphere that transcends state borders and often trumps the domestic public sphere is amply demonstrated by the political history of the Jordanian state.122 His perspicacious observation about the determiners of behavioral change all but seal the future for Jordan: Jordan will establish itself as a modern state, and change its traditional behaviors accordingly, if and when consensus obtains among its fractious constituencies: The extent to which international and domestic debate produces consensus, and whether these publics spheres reinforce or oppose each other, are key variables for determining the durability of behavioral change.123

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I raq: Statehood in Catastrophe Introduction This chapter, as a study of sovereignty in terms of the applicability of the Western-sovereignty concept and the political consequence “hybrid sovereignty,” observes how Iraqi sovereignty has been limited, or has failed, in different fields. The discussion in chapter 1 clarified the meaning of “sovereignty crisis.” As did the chapters on Kuwait and Jordan, this one focuses on analogous issues such as citizenship, tribalism, and domestic authority. How domestic boundaries (state–society boundaries) are limited by certain facts will be analyzed. But, since such issues refer to a very complex set of other issues, how domestic boundaries are limited or violated by official tribalism, the religious split, and the Kurdish problem will receive attention. The discussion in chapter 2 has already given an account of Iraq’s history, so this chapter can concentrate on the case studies that yield important clues about the particular nature of sovereignty crises in the Iraqi context. In other words, the scrutiny will be fixed on the major fields that breed typical sovereignty crises. This will allow a clear view of how important pillars of sovereignty are violated. On the basis of the conclusions drawn from each case, the current situation in Iraq will be categorized as the transformation of sovereignty crisis. Observations about how historical problems continue today will accompany this categorizing project. On June 28, 2004, a ceremony was organized in Baghdad wherein Iraq’s sovereignty was given back to the Iraqi “rulers.” The U.S. flag was lowered and the Iraqi flag raised. Actually, the ceremony was not unprecedented. It recalled the 1921 coronation of Amir Faisal. When he became the new ruler of the country, “. . . he was foreign to the region, and his monarchy had been brought into existence by Britain, the alien occupier, not by popular demand.”1 Like the 1921 coronation, the 2004 ceremony produced a new power structure, brought into existence this time by the United States, the new alien occupier, not by popular demand. Certainly, that ceremony was symbolic, and not a guarantee of full sovereignty. Foreign military forces are still in the country, and in many fields Iraqi law is being replaced by foreign states’ laws. In this context, foreign soldiers are not answerable to Iraqi law.

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For example, if a mercenary murders an Iraqi citizen or commits some other crime, he cannot be arrested and tried in an Iraqi court.2 An Al-Quds al-‘Arabi editorial presents a brief picture of this ironic situation in Iraq: The expression of transfer of sovereignty is flagrantly misleading. What kind of sovereignty will this be when the Americans will continue to be the ultimate decision makers in Iraq, including approving the president of the presidium council and his deputies, the prime minister, the sectarian distribution of the cabinet portfolios, and the other senior positions in the state?3

Not only for this ceremony but also for the many other developments in Iraq, this country’s case is one of the most intriguing in sovereignty studies. Today, the Iraqi government has no domestic sovereignty, as there is no legitimate and central authority. Endless conflicts with tribal and sectarian groups limit the central government’s capacity to rule all parts of the country. On April 5, 1991, the Security Council brought down Resolution 688, which created a safe haven for Kurds. This Resolution punished the Iraqi government by paralyzing its rule in that part of its recognized territory. Statelets emerged in southern and northern Iraq, acting almost independently. A parliamentary election was held, for example, in northern Iraq. A Kurdish Constitution was declared. Even before the recent American military operation, the central government’s capacity to rule a great portion of Iraqi territory was crippled by international sanctions. Westphalian sovereignty, therefore, does not obtain in Iraq, as many foreign civilian and military forces are in charge there. Today, the soldiers of the U.S.-led coalition operate on Iraqi soil.4 American rule is not limited to security issues. American advisors are in action in its economy, most visibly in oil and agriculture. Reminiscent of the British advisors of the 1920s and 1930s, the American advisors are the real agents of U.S. rule in Iraq. They have issued many regulations in matters such as traffic management and elections, and they have put in place a new labor-law code.5 In addition, some other neighboring states, such as Turkey, organize military operations in different parts of Iraq. In the long period between 1991 and 2003, the Iraqi government lost control of its borders, and therefore its interdependence sovereignty. For instance, not the government but several Kurdish groups control the northern boundaries of Iraq. After 1991, these groups created economic units despite the Baghdad government. It is only the international legal sovereignty of Iraq that is protected by the international community, lest the problem trigger a region-wide turmoil. Chaos is rampant within its borders. Seven decades into its formation, Iraq’s problems remain the same. In general, the facts that have produced the current picture in Iraq in terms of sovereignty can be summarized as follows: (i) The project of creating a national identity has failed. The colonial project of creating a nationalterritorial state could not be realized. (ii) In consequence, traditional and

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primordial patterns of behavior play important roles. Consequently, the Iraqi state has always had an unfinished-project look. Many basic institutions of the British-created modern statehood have never become fully operational. Many of the domestic boundaries of the modern state have failed. Instead, tribal and sectarian—in general, primordial—loyalties and identities preside in this hybrid framework. The problems Iraq has always faced are present today in a more extreme form. From the very beginning, the Iraqi constitutional framework, as the basic political system, has regulated citizenship. However, in practice it has never been able to displace primordial identities and patterns. Not only the local groups but also the Iraqi governments are responsible for this failure, as they have frequently used tribal and sectarian policies to further their political aims. This has created several severe sovereignty crises, such as the failure of the central authority, the lack of an impersonal bureaucratic rationality, and the excessive use of violence. These crises have made Iraq’s hybridsovereign characteristics very apparent.

Defining the Problem Iraq was created in 1921 by the United Kingdom as part of its colonial policies in the Middle East. As an artificial creation, it was without the essential underpinnings of nationhood. Even the spelling of its name was the subject of controversy. Debate as to whether it should be spelled as “Iraq” or “Irak” raged for several years in the Colonial Office in London.6 As a modern state it had no historical antecedents in its present territorial dimension. Besides, the British intentionally organized the new Iraq as a monarchy. This was another alien form of authority. The injection of monarchy into a territorial state was not incongruent with the overlapping groups and authorities of Iraq. Of course, traditional allegiances and political aspirations that had existed in the previous era did not disappear. Thus, when created, Iraq was barely capable of keeping under control primordial sentiments. In the 1920s, the Iraqis entrusted all moral authority over their lives to their sects, tribes, and families. Individuals were not self-directing or autonomous, but acted in accordance with the mores of these traditional groups. Consequently, traditional leaders had enormous political leverage. Theirs was authority stemming from the traditional group. The colonial creation was not strong enough to amalgamate these groups into an organic nation.7 Complex rivalry of social, economic, ethnic, religious, and ideological conflicts, all of which retarded the process of state formation, beset Iraq. Constructed in 1920 out of three provinces of the Ottoman Empire that had never been a political community, the Iraqi state encompassed a large number of communities that looked with suspicion on one another, and often had greater affinity with people beyond the newly drawn borders of Iraq. The south was overwhelmingly Shi’a, the central part Sunni, and the north substantially non-Arab: primarily Kurdish and to a lesser extent

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Turcoman, with smaller groups of Christians and Jews. To put it numerically: with independence in 1932, Iraq was made up of 21 percent Sunni Arabs, 14 percent Sunni Kurds, 53 percent Shi’i Arabs, 5 percent non-Muslim Arab-speaking minorities, and 6 percent other linguistic groups.8 All these different groups found themselves citizens of Iraq. The colonial project of creating an independent and territorial state on the Western model had the main task of incorporating and amalgamating all these groups into an organic nation. But, in Batatu’s words, the various loyalties in Iraq were simply negative and divisive.9 This was the biggest obstacle in the nationdevising project. Arab nationalism during the early years of the monarchy failed to translate the political legacies of the Ottoman Empire—ethnicity and communal identity—into a nationalist concept that could work to make an inclusive nation of the indigenous ethnic and religious fragments that the new borders had enclosed.10 Worse, ever since its formation, multiple nationdevising and state-forming projects have vied with one another without any of them succeeding in attracting a supportive level of consensus. Sectarian divisions have always been important, and they have hybridized the colonially established modern state. The Sunni community, a minority, had nevertheless always managed to rule the Shi’i majority. The Iraqi Shi’a, as a natural result of historical experience, were extremely skeptical about a new Sunni-dominated formation. Since the early nineteenth century, the various occupying authorities have sought to reduce the traditional semiautonomous status of the Shi’a in “Iraq.” For example, in the mid-nineteenth century, the Ottoman governors dissolved the semi-autonomous Shi’i state in Karbala and Najaf for a number of years. Apart from Ottoman pressure, another important problem in the early nineteenth century was the Wahhabi attack on important Shi’i areas. Karbala was sacked in 1801.11 Therefore, given these historical experiences, the Shi’i community had reason to be skeptical about the new political formation in Baghdad in the early decades of the twentieth century. Although the Sunni–Shi’a divide is important, it is not the only sectarian/ religious split. There are other religious groups, such as Christians, Assyrians, Turcoman, and Yazidis. Though without the clout of the Shi’i groups, these minor groups are important. They are committed to preventing the eclipse their distinct identity by the dominant major groups and political structures. To them, the nation-state project was a scheme to put an end to their primordial lifestyle. It made them more determined to nurture their primordial heritage. Facing the challenge of centralism in the form of Arab-oriented Iraqi identity, most groups have protected themselves in tribal forums. For example, the kinship ideology is an important source of Yazidi identity. Tribalism is central in the historical development of Yazidism as a socioreligious movement.12 The Yazidi live in small and isolated groups, mostly in the Sinjar Mountains west of Mosul. They are impoverished cultivators and herdsmen who have a strictly graded religio-political hierarchy and tend to maintain a more closed community than do the other ethnic or religious

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groups. This isolationist way of Yazidi life has impeded their alignment with the nation-building process. Tribalism, as the only operational code, has therefore been their self-protection behavior model. Another problem was ethnic tension, primarily among Kurdish groups in northern Iraq. The Kurds have for long engaged in a political struggle for more autonomy. They have therefore never viewed central governments kindly. The new, British-created Iraqi nation never succeeded in integrating them. Like other groups, the Kurds, organized in tribal forms, have been successful at protecting their distinct ethnic identity. Their attitude has always obstructed the consolidation of sovereignty: Naturally, the instrumentalization of tribal networks as a protection mechanism has worked as an agent of hybridization. Extending central rule to the Kurdish regions was barely possible. Kurdish demands for more political autonomy resulted in repeated conflicts with the central government. The Iraqi governments employed brutal instruments to quell and control them. Only a resort to substitution mechanisms could exert central government authority over the Kurdish constituency. When Iraq was created, another problem was the difference between rural people and city dwellers. On the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire, urban and tribal groups were organized as closed economic systems with limited interaction.13 Social and psychological traits also served to set them apart. As Batatu says, the life of urban Arabs was on the whole governed by Islamic and Ottoman laws, and that of tribal Arabs by Islam-tinged ancient tribal customs. In a sense, the life principles of the cities and that of the tribes were mutually contradictory. Hanna Batatu uses the categories “hierarchies of wealth,” “hierarchy of religions,” and “hierarchy of status” to depict social stratification in the late Ottoman Iraq. This style of stratified society was the legacy of the plural, relatively isolated, and often virtually autonomous city-states and tribal confederations of the eighteenth century. There was little interaction of the social strata even in the cities, since groups formed on faith, sect, class, and ethnic or tribal-origin principles tended to live in separate mahallas (neighborhoods).14 Since this rigid stratification would not yield to a collective principle, the early Iraqi body politic had to accommodate primordial institutions alongside modern ones. For example, there was a Department of Tribal Affairs during the 1930s. This symbolized the hybrid characteristics of the new Iraq. Although the new system was based on citizenship, tribal departments and traditions were retained. (Tribal departments are still retained in today’s Iraq.) They were recognized by the civic and agriculture codes. Therefore, the demographic composition of the new Iraq was the motor of hybridity. As it was not possible to amalgamate the discrete groups into nationhood, each group succeeded in retaining its primordial form of authority at the expense of hybridizing modern statehood. More than demographically different, these groups were without the need for interaction that might have promoted nation formation. On the contrary,

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there were many conflicts among them. They lived in their closed sociopolitical environments, little concerned with making contact with others. As a result, a sense of identity with a territorial entity known as Iraq did not exist. The Iraqi national character is a complex, centuries-old ensemble of perceptions and sensibilities affecting myriads of phenomena in culture and society.15 The ensemble consists of groups with traditional forms organized by their primordial heritage. The nation-state project’s pragmatic aim was to obliterate the legacy of a long historical background. But there was no prospect of an easy birth for the new state system, for the groups it sought to unite were disposed to fight for their autonomy. Even the smaller groups were not happy with the new territorial state. For example, an Assyrian uprising took place in 1933. From the start, the relationship of the Iraqi government with the Assyrians, a small Christian community living in the Mosul province, was openly hostile. They were given assurances of security by both Britain and Iraq. When the mandate ended, the Assyrians began to feel insecure and demanded new assurances. The Assyrians, protected by the British, were a thorn in the side of the Iraqi Arab nationalists, and they were dealt with in 1933. In clashes with Iraqi troops, several hundred Assyrians were killed. This event made clear that without British help, the Iraqi rulers, particularly Faisal I, would quickly lose control of political events.16 The Assyrian affair had displayed that new forms such as citizenship were not welcome and unlikely to be adopted. As the Assyrians had enjoyed the many privileges that accrued to their foreign resident (dhimmi) status, they were unwilling to relinquish this status by adopting citizenship. A British official paper reported that the Assyrians “. . . demand to live in Iraq, without taking their place as citizens.”17 Not only citizenship but many other new forms, such as the civic codes and central government, were unacceptable to the groups living in primordial constructs. Thus, the Assyrian affair should be remembered as an early hostile reaction to emerging nation-state order. Undoubtedly, this multifaceted demographic picture showed the effects of a long past. Hanna Batatu quotes an Ottoman deputy’s 1910 observation: “. . . to depend on the tribe is a thousand times safer than depending on the government.”18 This tribal mentality could not be annihilated. It remains evident in Iraqi statesmen in 2007. Tribes cannot be considered marginal even today, for the majority of the population is tribe oriented. The survival of such bonds has impeded the realization of citizenship and an efficient central rule, both of which are essential for the realization of a Western-type statehood. Moreover, the lack of a democratic and regular administrative hierarchy has made the use of tribal channels indispensable.19 A population bound by an array of incompatible local traditions can hardly be expected to accept the imposition of radically reorienting Western forms such as citizenship and effective central rule. Such institutions were unprecedented and impractical in an area like Iraq, where other patterns of behavior have been significant for centuries. After several decades, tribal and sectarian groups still prefer their primordial patterns of behavior.

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However, the contradictory policies of the ruling elite should be mentioned alongside the incompatibility-of-tribal-forms thesis. Despite the extensive nation-building agendas of successive governments, all have frequently and systemically manifested traditional patterns of behavior. The shortcomings of the Iraqi territorial state have made traditional behaviors unavoidable. When the state faces a severe legitimacy crisis, the only option is the mobilization of tribal groups in order to stimulate their loyalty. In other words, both political and societal sources of hybridity have been active. Because of these structural problems, structural sovereignty crises have been the norm in Iraq. These crises, just as in other Arab states, emerge around issues such as citizenship, tribalism, the role of the state, the use of violence, and nation building.

War Effects: Toward a New Hybrid Bargain The invasion of Kuwait in 1990 was a real turning point in modern Iraqi history. More important than the international implications of this event is how foreign intervention transferred Iraq’s sovereignty crisis from the habitual state–society boundaries issue. The U.S.-led coalition’s war against Iraq has seen unprecedented developments. First, Iraq lost its Westphalian sovereignty. Since 1991, civil and military powers of different states have been active in Iraq territories. Second, Iraq has failed to secure domestic sovereignty during the same period. The central government has a limited function in many parts of the country. Minority groups in the north and the south of Iraq have established embryonic statelets. The huge ethnic and sectarian groups in these parts have seriously damaged the sovereignty situation. These groups’ cross-border political activities have put an end to the interdependence component of sovereignty, an essential component without which a central government lacks legitimacy. Many important domestic boundaries of Western sovereignty also collapsed. Finally, in 2004, the central Saddam regime was abolished by American powers, leaving Iraq a neocolonial state model. The international community continues to declare its full respect for Iraq’s international legal sovereignty. However, present-day Iraq appears to lack all the essential features of functional statehood, which makes state–society boundaries an irrelevancy. The insecure atmosphere has revitalized tribal and sectarian patterns. For many, only primordial networks, their many problems notwithstanding, retain some protection mechanisms. How the American fact impacts on Iraq’s traditional problems needs special attention. Certainly, the U.S. presence in Iraq has both transformed and deepened the ongoing sovereignty crises there. Today, Iraq looks like a medieval space in which overlapping authorities and groups coexist. What is more, the U.S.-led authorities make excessive use of classic primordial instruments. Many of the important officers of the American-supported interim government are either tribal or sectarian figures. This amounts to a

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continuation of historical practices. Many of the contemporary developments in Iraq are the recurring themes of modern Iraqi history. The recent collapse of the Iraqi state should be read, at least in some fields, as ultra-hybridization. Recent developments since American intervention have radically transformed hybridist trends and made way for an “ultra” version, one that readily lends itself to the dubbing “medieval chaos.” In some fields, primordial patterns were unleashed from the hybrid structure and let loose as ruling principles. In one sense, Iraq is now partitioned by groups that operate with primordial instruments. Thus, a sovereignty-based study of today’s Iraq must contemplate a very discouraging picture. The hybrid bargain between the modern and the traditional has in many fields given way to primordial chaos. Therefore, the analysis of sovereignty in today’s Iraq will automatically be occupied with samples of sovereignty collapse rather than with samples of hybridization. And naturally, facing more striking sovereignty collapses, samples of how sovereignty is hybridized are fewer. In other words, collapse is more striking than hybridization. However, for a number of reasons the hybrid-sovereignty approach is still a valid methodological tool in a study of Iraq. First, the current situation in Iraq should be read, while not discounting the enormous role of recent developments, as a continuation of the past. The severe tribalization and sectarianization of today’s Iraq is strongly linked with how the hybrid model protects primordial patterns within the structure of the modern state. Since the creation of modern Iraq, hybridity has meant the cohabitation bargain between the modern and the primordial. Because of this bargain, hybrid sovereigns are prone to ethnic and sectarian clashes. Hybridity in fact means that certain sectarian or tribal loyalties prevail. Today, tribal and sectarian rationales are jostling for the best available places in the upcoming Iraqi-state model. In other words, a new hybrid bargain is presently in the making in Iraq. The problem of how to reconcile modern statehood and an assortment of primordial patterns is still central. Thus, the current problems in Iraq are the essentials of an analysis of the nature of the nascent hybrid bargain.

The Official Tribalism Any study of statehood in the Iraqi context should consider the concept of official tribalism. Tribalism has always been a favorite substitution mechanism, so it was always important in evaluations of structural sovereignty crisis and the processes of hybridization. It is well known that in an artificially created modern state that encloses many ethic and sectarian groups there are always official agendas to promote diversity in that state’s control structures. The projection of primordial patterns is a well-known promotion method. As already noted, in the Weberian perspective, the Western-state model rejects any kind of tribal or sectarian point of departure. “State” presumes a rationalized social order in which the objectification or depersonalization of power is total. On such a model, “political system” refers to

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the predictable operation of rules in fixed procedures. Therefore, a modern political system presumes the replacement of traditional forms with new forms. The Iraqi system has always depended on the citizenship-based model of statehood. For example, according to Article 19 of the Interim Constitution of 1990, citizens are equal before the law and not subject to discrimination on the basis of sex, family extraction, language, social origin, or religion. Also, equal opportunity is guaranteed to all citizens. Similar texts, such as the Iraq Interim Constitution (2004), reaffirm these commitments. However, the incompatibility of the injected model and local realities resulted in hybrid forms. Therefore, rulers have employed both modern and traditional methods. Despite the official agenda of nation devising, governments have had to use tribal bonds to protect their political regimes. The use of tribalism has always been part of Iraqi political culture. This is a typical postcolonial situation. Although the new central elite were in favor of creating a homo-nationalis, when they failed on some level of power deployment they had to cooperate with loyalist tribes or sects in order to protect their positions. This method, or substitution mechanism, has been used since the early 1930s. At that time, the government’s tactic was to incite tribal uprisings against tribal chiefs unfriendly to the group in power. Since then, primordial patterns and networks have coexisted in the colonially injected Western-state model. The primordial instruments that had inserted themselves into this model structurally obstructed the development of its citizenship component. But it was during the Ba’th era that primordial patterns became a dominant characteristic of government. When the Ba’th Party came to the office, its first manifesto contained a sharp criticism of tribalism: “We are against religious sectarianism, racism, and tribalism.” According to the Party, these commitments are “remnants of colonialism.”20 All previous rulers were criticized for tolerating this colonial remnant. In typical socialist discourse, the Ba’th declared that the feudal nature of tribalism prevents progress in Iraq. This official anti-tribalism was kept up. However, despite this, the government did not itself hesitate to cooperate with some tribes. On the one hand, the government tried to reduce the influence of the tribal sheiks, on the other, its cooperation with them was widespread. This cooperation permitted the expansion of the tribal sphere at the expense of nation-state instruments. Baram calls this paradoxical relationship “neo-tribalism”: Neo because the context of many tribal phenomena promoted by the Ba’th was a far cry from the traditional context of tribal behavior and norms. When a highly centralized regime makes use of tribal values to re-impose its full control over its population, what emerges is something new and very different from the traditional set of values.21

In other words, what the Ba’th Party did was not a de-tribalization but a re-tribalization.

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The government wanted to replace traditional tribalism with a new tribalism that would help consolidate the official ideology. So while the government was ending the privileges of some tribes, many new land allocations were made in favor of other tribes.22 This rewarded the tribal networks that gave the Ba’th Party their loyal social support. Tribal figures also infiltrated central governmental institutions. For example, many people were employed in the various security services, often as bodyguards of the ruling elite. According to several reports, the number of tribesmen recruited from cities close to Tikrit was 50,000. The Special Republican Guards quickly became a tribal stronghold. In short, this preference for tribal recruitment was due to the Ba’th Party’s fear of potential domestic threat. The Special Republican Guards were assigned the duty of protecting Saddam Hussein and his regime from such threat. In exchange for their loyalty, the government doubled the investment and social-service benefits available to the tribal areas. So why did the Ba’th regime depend on these people? Essentially, it was because they were believed to have retained the tribal values of communal spirit, honor, and best of all, valor. Of course, legalizing the superiority of tribal background went against the grain of nation-state order. But tribalism influenced even the administrative structure of Iraq. In many Kurdish regions, tribal chiefs served as local rulers and as military commanders. As noted in chapter 2, the government went to the trouble of ordering Iraqis to drop their tribal names, just to hide how many Tikritis and others close to Saddam’s clan were in key positions. The link between the government and some tribes became more essential during the Iran–Iraq War. When Saddam felt threatened by the weakening of law and order and the potential threat to his regime, he resurrected tribal rule. He rewarded the loyalty of tribal leaders by allowing tribal law to prevail in many areas.23 Gradually, tribal values were incorporated into official texts. When it was understood that the civil order had failed in keeping the society stable, a return to tribalism became the ultimate rescue method. As noted in the discussion of Jordan in chapter 4, when the ruling elite are threatened, they quickly turn to tribal alliances to thwart their enemies. Thus, the resort to tribal alliances with the advent of domestic and external threats can be read as a common phenomenon in Arab states. In 1991, Saddam officially underlined the importance of biological background. After reading excerpts from several religious texts, he concluded that “No-one should be allowed to emerge in the . . . leadership in the Ba’th party, if . . . [he does not] come from . . . [a good] family background.”24 What followed was the institutionalization of this mentality. On March 29, 1991, at the end of the Gulf War and after the suppression of the rebellion, Saddam received a major delegation of tribal chiefs. These chiefs vowed allegiance (bayaa, an Islamic oath of loyalty to the ruler) or a covenant (ahd, signifying tribal honor) to support and obey the ruler. Consequently, Saddam presented himself as sheikh mashayikh, or sheikh of all sheikhs.25 Even in the last years of Saddam Hussein’s regime, the government encouraged tribal chiefs to act as buffers between the leadership and ordinary

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people.26 The tribal basis of his regime’s internal security institutions continued.27 Especially in the post-War era, the Iraqi regime evolved into a classclan model in which this ruling group had permeated the army, the Party, the intelligence services, the bureaucracy, and the business class. Many Iraqi military officers and intelligence and security service officials were recruited from prominent tribes because of their links to Saddam Hussein’s family. Their selection also presumed their adherence to the traditional values of loyalty. For example, members of the Albu-Nasir were to be found in all internal security organizations and military bodies. The Presidential Guard, or Himaya, a unit of a few thousand young men briefed to guard Saddam’s palaces and occasionally to provide his security escort, was made up almost exclusively of Albu-Nasir men. Their commanders were from the same tribe.28 With one or two notable exceptions, many figures in the Iraqi hierarchy were members of the extended-clan networks of Tikriti or related tribal groupings. When we analyze this class-clan, we see a close-knit Sunni tribal alliance led by several prominent people.29 Official tribalism has thus long worked as a hybridization mechanism in modern Iraq. Although in different formats, new versions of official tribalism are employed in today’s Iraq. (A brief picture of tribalism in today’s Iraq will be presented in the forthcoming pages.) The very corpus of Iraq’s present government depends on a tribal quota-sharing model. The traditional bargain between the nation-state order and the tribal way of life has once again forced the Iraqi model into a hybrid form. The inevitable hybridity is based on the fact that millions of people are still living according to their tribal epistemic order.

The Sunni–Shi’i Split Another perspective from which sovereignty crisis may be studied in the Iraqi case is the Sunni–Shi’i split. Although the Shi’i groups became part of Iraqi citizenry, their relations with the central rule were handled through substitution mechanisms such as the excessive use of violence, co-optation, deportation, and other tribal methods. Thus, citizenship was always a simple official edifice rather than an efficient framework. Islam in Iraq, Batatu once said, is more a force for division than integration, since it occasions the deep split between the Shi’i and Sunni Arabs. These two groups seldom mix, and as a rule do not intermarry. Even in city life, they live in separate quarters and lead separate lives.30 The divisive role of religion originates not in religious friction per se, but in the politicization of religious sects. Religion is divisive, since sect is prominent in the network for individual protection. Sect is now more than simple religious alliance. It is a complex brigade that imbues its members with political, social, and economic attitudes, and inculcates sect-appropriate individual behaviors. For many generations most Shi’a had live in tribal formations in southern and central Iraq. Comprising more than one-half of the population in central and southern Iraq during the Ottoman rule, these tribes of the south (most

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Shi’i) were organized in loose confederations of self-governing units headed by sheikhs.31 This could be seen as an early Iraqi hybrid form. As a marginalized sect since the Ottoman era and with a tradition of independence, they have always been critical of the central-rule regimes in Baghdad. This remains unchanged: there have been many cases of Shi’i groups promoting policies at odds with the central government.32 An important reason for sectarian tension is the historical dominance by the Sunnis of the Iraqi state. A restricted area around Baghdad, Mosul, and Ar Rutbah, the so-called Golden Triangle, has been influential in state recruitment throughout the modern history of Iraq. For many years, the Arab Sunnis of this small area ruled Iraq. Sunnis held many important posts in the security and other public services, and most of the army’s corps commanders were Sunnis. The oft-quoted slogans “the taxes are on the Shi’a, death is on the Shi’a, and the positions are for the Sunni” summarizes the Shi’i perspective.33 Sunni dominance was preserved through a variety of mechanisms. For example, the co-optation of Shi’i religious leaders has always been a renowned method of Sunni rulers. The Shi’i tradition has a theological logic that gives the clergy a dominant role, so co-optation is a highly pragmatic way of reaching the Shi’i masses. In the 1930s, in accordance with the co-optation agenda, some sheikhs joined the political elite. They were given seats in parliament and tax immunity, and legislation was passed for their benefit. The state offered them important economic and political incentives, thereby turning them into players on the national political scene. In short, through selective co-optation the modern state succeeded in splitting the Shi’i elite.34 On the other hand, the Sunni–Shi’i split is a confrontation of tribal and urban societies.35 Being different societies, different perspectives are to be expected from them. Differences in their political and social views can be traced back to their positions during the Ottoman centuries. The Shi’i south had for a long time been more culturally and economically tied to Iran, whereas the Sunni north had been more culturally and economically tied to Syria and Turkey.36 In this competition, the Sunni defend a wider Arab nationalism as their main ideology, and the Shi’a support Iraqi nationalism on the basis of the distinct values of being Iraqi. The historical religious difference was transformed into a political one after the establishment of the Sunni-dominated Iraqi state. Since then, the two groups compete over the right to rule and to define the meaning of nationalism, or Iraqi identity, in the country. In fact, for the Shi’a the modern Iraqi project was nothing but another version of a Sunni-led political system. Thus, the obvious thing for them was to isolate themselves in a closed and highly religious form in which a Shi’i way of life could be continued. During the reign of King Faisal, there was an organized Shi’i political movement demanding the creation of a Shi’i state. Faisal was determined to destroy Shi’i opposition, particularly in Shi’i areas. Thus, the use of violence was the dominant substitution mechanism there. In other words, the state tried to rule its citizens through peer violence. When the government failed

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in extending central rule to those areas, this sovereignty crisis was resolved with military methods. Meanwhile, the Iraqi government forbade Shi’i proselytizing, reduced the economic significance of Najaf by limiting its grain exports to Saudi Arabia, and passed the Nationality Laws of 1924 and 1927 that prohibited the employment of non-Iraqis in jobs generally held by the Shi’a. Faisal was able to thwart overt Shi’a rebellion by the force of his personality and his ability to balance the different groups in Iraqi society. The state did not refrain from playing these groups against each other. Faisal schemed to set the Sunni tribal groups against the Shi’a. Part of his propaganda was that he felt comfortable with the tribesmen, and visited tribal areas to become personally acquainted with Shi’i grievances.37 In this way, even though the Shi’a had played an important role along with the Sunni in the 1920 uprising against the British, they later became a political minority group dominated by the Sunni. In other words, the tribal stocks were organized hierarchically in the new Iraq. In 1927, the Shi’i groups presented the terms for their integration into the new state. These terms sought perfect autonomy, including legislative equality, the establishment of Shi’i courts, full control of their religious funds and foundations, a specific land taxation system, and a religious school curriculum in their regions.38 But the government turned down their demands harshly, and many Shi’i leaders were co-opted by means of economic benefits and political appointments. This was a historical continuation of their situation during the Ottoman era. They were excluded from public office, and could not use their own code of law except in internal matters in their own centers.39 In the post-Faisal era, Shi’i protests continued in several cities. There were especially significant protests in 1935. The army again quickly intervened to quash the sectarian protests. However, the typical Shi’i demand of equal role in government did not change. They demanded an increase in the proportion of Shi’a in the bureaucracy and the army. And they demanded more economic support. A budget discussion in 1933 was a good opportunity for taking stock of the causes of tension between Sunni and Shi’a. Two Shi’i ministers resigned in late 1933, when the cabinet decided to divert funds allocated for a dam in a Shi’i area. This decision, for the Shi’a, indicated that the government was little concerned about the Shi’i community and its needs.40 This perception fueled several important uprisings, such as the one of January 1935. The irrigation shortage in the mid-Euphrates region stirred a Shi’i tribe to voice its resentment. Caught without a structural solution, the central government again quelled the Shi’a with a distribution of new political and economic opportunities. In parallel with these new political opportunities, the results of the March 1947 elections were promising, for 57 of the 178 deputies were Shi’a. But many of these people, including Salih Jabir, then prime minister, were political figures co-opted by the system and oriented toward it. So they could

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hardly be considered the representative of the Shi’a, or the defenders of their demands. As Lukitz indicates, those people who now live around Baghdad had already distanced themselves from the acute problems of their original constituencies.41 However, unlike the Kurdish groups, the Shi’a was at the time skeptical about moves toward absolute independence.42 They preferred to focus on two important aims: consolidating political equality with the Sunni, and creating a political atmosphere in which traditional Shi’i culture and beliefs could flourish. However, it was quickly understood that the intensive nationbuilding policies of those years would not accommodate sect-specific demands. With the further deterioration of their social and political conditions in rural areas, many Shi’a moved to urban centers. However, these groups remained concentrated in the outer perimeters of Baghdad, and became marginalized to the extent that they failed to integrate even into the Baghdad Shi’i community.43 On the other hand, as high numbers of Shi’a moved to urban centers, new ideas such as Arabism emerged, especially with the help of state education. But radical ideas were also attractive to these deprived people living in very bad conditions around Baghdad. The most important social change was the rise of secular and socialist ideas. In other words, urbanization diluted their traditional religious characteristics. This sociological and ideological change brought many Shi’a to important posts in the government infrastructure. However, the crisis in Shi’i identity was apparent. On the one hand, they had the task of finding their way in the nation-state model. They had to redefine the meaning of Shi’i identity to make it compatible with their being part of an Iraqi nation-state. And they had to cope with sociological problems such as urbanization. How the Shi’i culture was to be continued in a nation state, and how young generations were to be educated in urban conditions, became pressing problems for the Shi’i clergy. A tribal conference was held in 1947 to discuses these problems.44 During its sessions, the various factions blamed each other for being susceptible to foreign ideology, and for forgetting their tribal origin. In the following years, the Shi’i group tried to organize different political structures. The Popular Socialist Party was established in 1951. However, the central authorities easily put an end to moves in this direction. The tension between the Sunni and the Shi’a, and the oppression of the latter, ignited leftist fervor among the Shi’a, many of them believing that only socialist and communist ideas could help them in their search for a society of equals. As it happened, the Arabist nature of the post-1958 developments frustrated them. The Shi’a was not satisfied by the revolutionary discourse of creating an equal balance between the minorities. There were two important parameters in the Shi’i movement: skepticism about pan-Arabism and about the rise of the Sunni religion in the state apparatus. As a sectarian minority, the Shi’i groups saw the secular-state model as the better protector of their interests against the dominant Sunni majority. In reaction to this, other Shi’i groups organized around religion. Surprisingly,

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the rise of socialist and communist ideas unexpectedly incited the revival of religious Shi’i consciousness. Najaf and Karbala emerged as anti-communist centers. For example, in 1960, the Da’wa movement came out with the aim of defying Qasim’s regime and replacing it with an Islamic state in Iraq. The rise of religious Shi’ism truly influenced all sectors of the Shi’a.45 Its discourse rested on universal religious understanding rather than on a politicized platform. It had no communitarian or sectarian path, and it spoke in the universal tones of Islamic rhetoric.46 But between 1963 and 1968, during the authoritarian regime of Arif, the former universal rhetoric was replaced by a communitarian one. Shi’i groups attempted to weaken the communist tendency among the young Shi’a. Shi’i radicalization came about during the rule of the Arif brothers from 1963 until their overthrow in 1968. Another radicalization came during the Ba’thist rule, under the influence of the 1979 Iranian revolution. But despite all this ferment in their midst, it was the phenomenon of urbanization that radically transformed the foundations of Shi’i politics. In 1964, Ayatollah Khomeini was granted asylum by Iraq. His theological erudition and idealism quickly earned him a significant following in Najaf, where the ulama and students from everywhere in the Shi’i world formed an important circle. The Shi’i radicals were under the influence of Khomeini. Khomeini was an apt model for Iraqi Shi’a in their anti-regime protests and guerilla attacks. Also, Ba’th policies were incensing the Shi’i groups. This helped Shi’i leaders regain ground. The new regime, with its secular and anticlerical stance, was never comfortable with the Shi’i religious leaders and their followers. Relations between the Iraqi regime and the Shi’i clerics deteriorated during the Imam Hussein celebrations in February 1977, when police interference in religious processions resulted in massive antigovernment demonstrations in Najaf and in Karbala. Several thousand participants were arrested, and eight Shi’i dignitaries, including five members of the clergy, were sentenced to death and executed. In 1978, in an effort to quell the Shi’i unrest and to satisfy the Shah’s request, Baghdad expelled Ayatollah Khomeini. In another attempt to minimize Shi’i dissent, in 1974 the Iraqi government deported 60,000 Shi’a of Iranian origin to Iran. In the second half of the 1970s, up to 200,000 more people deemed to be of “Iranian origin” were denounced as fifth columnist and spearheads for Iranian ambitions inside Iraq.47 The campaign turned into a witch hunt. Deportations, the suppression of the Shi’i ulama, and the death under suspicious circumstances of Shi’i leader Imam Musa al-Sadr all contributed to the deterioration of relations between Ba’thist Iraq and the Shi’a. State violence toward the Shi’a took a ruthless turn during the Saddam era. Many prominent Shi’i clergy were executed. Of all state policies, the most important was the deportation of the Marsh Arabs. Many were forced from their homelands by relentless military attacks. To be rid of these people (who had lived in the area for thousands of years), the Ba’th regime destroyed their homelands by draining and poisoning the water and bombing the area.48

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Central and southern Iraq is the most productive agricultural region and the site of the most important oil-refining center. The predominant population is Shi’i. The Ba’th regime wanted a new population policy there. However, Saddam’s policies were contradictory. On the one hand, he destroyed their shrines and generally kept up a policy of oppression. On the other, he attempted to bring some groups into the political system by creating political, educational, and economic opportunities for them. He was against the survival of a marginal Shi’i culture in its closed systems. They were welcomed on condition that they participate in the new Iraq. In other words, the Shi’a was not permitted to continue their culturally separate life. During the rule of the Ba’th Party, many Shi’i tribal leaders were enticed into the political system with offers of economic benefits and political appointments, mainly as members of parliament.49 Several Shi’i identities appeared as high-level functionaries in the Party. However, it should be mentioned that the inclusion policy was a typically well-controlled one: Despite the token inclusions, several positions were closed to the Shi’a. The SunniArab character of the regime was not to change. It remained deeply suspicious of the Shi’a. They were expected to become part of the Iraqi whole by giving up their historical differences. As already noted, even though Saddam’s Iraq was along the lines of the modern state, the relationship between the government and the Shi’i citizens was never in line with the presumptions of modern statehood. Instead, that relationship was conducted by the use of primordial instruments, such as violence and sectarian privilege. Inevitably, these methods promoted a hybrid structure in which the essentials of tribalism remained intact under the nation-state umbrella.

The Emancipation of Shi’ism When the Iraqi army was defeated in the 1991 war with Kuwait, a Shi’i rebellion erupted in southern Iraq. This rebellion was probably supported by foreign countries, such as the United States and Iran. Some groups even came from Iran to join this rebellion. Even though it was a Shi’i rebellion, its aims were not clear. Besides, it was not well planned. Finally, the international community, led by the United States, opposed the disintegration of Iraq. The Arab reaction should be considered as well. For the United States, the Shi’i rebellion was a good opportunity to weaken Saddam’s regime. Very soon, several religious cities such as Najaf and Karbala came under Shi’i control. However, thanks to the lack of full support from the international community, the Baghdad government was quick to regain control. Saddam’s military forces crushed the Shi’i militia after only a couple of weeks. The army demolished large parts of Shi’i cities: their social and cultural infrastructures, including shrines nd libraries, were almost entirely destroyed.50 But in general, the developments in Iraq since 1991 opened the political process to the Shi’a, and reinstated a range of their religious and cultural rights. Since then, the traditional Shi’i leaders and networks have regained their status. More important in this process are post-Saddam developments.

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Certainly, the American occupation and the end of Saddam’s regime pushed the Shi’i groups and their religious leaders to the forefront of Iraqi politics. Now, as many Shi’i cities are under the absolute control of the Shi’i clergy, they have emerged as a very important class in post-Saddam Iraq. Equally important, the Shi’i identity is still a basic point of departure for millions of people in Iraq. The idea of Iraqi citizenship has collapsed for these people. Millions of Shi’a are living in Shi’i political topoi, where the rules are those of Shi’ism. In addition, since the domestic authority of the central government has collapsed, the Shi’i groups control many parts of Iraqi territory. They are also in diplomatic contact with other states. For instance, important Shi’i leaders conduct discussions with American officials at secret and public diplomatic meetings.

The Shi’a and the Radical Sovereignty Crisis in Iraq A sectarian framework has become the basic point of departure for many Iraqi citizens. Iraqi citizenship means nothing today to millions of Shi’a. Consequently, it is the sectarian framework that has become the basis of Shi’i daily life. The Shi’i establishment includes thousands of religious students who were forced underground during the Saddam regime. But, due to the rise of the Shi’a in Iraqi politics, Nejef, a center for religious studies, is gaining its historical status. Also, the role of religious leaders is increasing. The Grand Ayatollahs Sistani, el Hakim, and Beshir Nejefi are important figures in Iraqi politics today.51 They lead millions of people, yet they represent the Shi’i people. The Iraqi officials conduct regular meetings with them. For example, after such a meeting with Al-Sistani, the Shiite religious authority in Al-Najaf, Iraqi Prime Minister al-Maliki, himself a Shiite, praised the leader for encouraging the establishment of a secure environment, and for creating an atmosphere of harmony.52 This sort of event makes the Shi’i leaders important even at international levels, and more so for the interest that leaders of Western states demonstrate: U.S. President George Bush invited Abd-al-Aziz al-Hakim, leader of the ruling Shiite coalition, and Tariq al-Hashimi, leader of the Iraqi Islamic Party and vice president of the Republic of New Iraq, to Washington, in a desperate attempt to save the American project in Iraq from collapse, and to find a way of ending the current sectarian civil war.53 The Shi’i groups have brought to a standstill the idea of a central authority in Iraq. For this reason, it is fairly said that a medieval system exists in Iraq. Rather than an efficient central rule, each tribal or sectarian block rules its own region. The sectarian groups have stopped several attempts to establish central rule. For example, in 2004, the central Iraqi government ordered the Sadr’s militia to leave Nejef. Despite the government order, the militia did not evacuate the city. It was only after an agreement between Sistani and Sadr that they evacuated as ordered. This was a display of the Shi’i clergy’s influence on foreign policy, for clearly, the Sadr militia’s cooperation with

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the Coalition-protected Iraqi central government bolstered the view of that government as a legitimate one. Along with being actors in foreign-instructed political developments, the clergy are experts at manipulating the public. For example, Shi’i religious leaders such as Muqtada al-Sadr have come out as a harsh critics of U.S. policy in Iraq. Sadr leads a group with an effective militia, one that has clashed with American soldiers in Nejef. This militia acts as an independent group that does not succumb to government orders. In a sermon delivered on June 4, 2004, Sadr criticized the country’s new interim government.54 Undoubtedly, such political messages through a religious personality of his stature are taken seriously by his followers. Actually, what holds this group together is its primordial sectarian identity and its religious leader. A group such as this remains very difficult to integrate. But Al-Sadr is not the only influential religious leader. Others, notably Sistani, are important politicians.55 Unlike Al-Sadr, Shi’i leaders such as Abd-al-Aziz al-Hakim are close to participating in the diplomatic process even with the United States. Thus, the Shi’i religious figures are active, regardless of whether the subject matter is or is not religion related. They have played important roles in all Coalition-era elections. In November 2005, Grand Ayatollah al-Mudarrisi joined with another high-ranking Shiite religious authority, Grand Ayatollah al-Shirazi, to form an Iraqi Islamic Coalition List to support the emergence of new Iraq as an Islamic state. This is at odds with the secular-state ambitions for Iraq of the Unified Iraqi Coalition.56 The emancipation of the Shi’a is a fact in Iraqi politics today. Thus, to satisfy the Shi’i bloc, important posts are reserved for them. Even the incumbent government depends on quota sharing. There is now a “consensual government” plan on which governments are to form not on the basis of electoral success but on the basis of equal representation of all Iraqi groups.57 Even so, sectarian allegiances remain a weighty problem, since some Shi’i government ministers are controlled by the religious leadership. For instance, several ministers from the Sadr group submitted their resignation to the prime minister for tribal reasons.58 Also, the execution of Saddam by the Shi’i camp should be seen as the symbolic event that proclaimed the restoration of Shi’ism in Iraq.59 However, the Shi’i groups still have the historical problem of being without a coherent program. As a continuation of a historical tradition, the Shi’i leaders have no common set of principles. Some are the leaders of military resistance to American occupation. Others are in contact with Iran.60 (But the Shi’i groups now live according to their primordial identity in Iraq.) Furthermore, there is no organized control of, or central authority in, the Shi’i territories. Inevitably then, the central government has to appeal to the sectarian corridors of power in its effort to bring its Shi’i citizens under its control. Therefore, continuing a historical habit, the Shi’i groups and their position in Iraqi politics still produce structural sovereignty crises in terms of state–society boundaries. The current situation in Iraq can be

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analyzed only in terms of a medieval framework of overlapping identities, authorities, and borders.

The Kurdish Problem The Kurdish issue is another perspective from which the problem of sovereignty can be analyzed. The Kurds are concentrated in northern Iraq and socially isolated from the rest of the country by language and sect. Technically, three governorates in the north, Dahuk, Irbil, and Sulaymaniyah, constitute Iraqi Kurdistan. Most Kurds are Sunni, though small groups of them are Shi’i, Christian, and Kurdish-speaking Assyrians, and Persian-speaking Kurds. The Kurds’ most distinguishing characteristic and the one that binds them is their language. There are several Kurdish dialects, but Kirmanji tends to be the standard written form. In general, the Kurdish problem in terms of sovereignty can be studied under several headings: To begin with, the Kurdish groups and their political activities have created severe domestic sovereignty crises in Iraq. There has never been an institutional penetration of Kurdish regions. Furthermore, the Kurdish minority has constituted the most persistent and militarily effective security threat in Iraq’s modern history. These factors produced many typical sovereignty crises: military conflicts, uprisings, massacres, and a set of new-autonomy regulations. In spite of intensive Iraqi nation-building and centralization policies, the Kurds have successfully protected their tribal values, institutions, and patterns of behavior. Therefore, the Kurdish problem in Iraq has prevented the realization of important institutions such as citizenship. Finally, an embryonic Kurdish state emerged, with the help of the international community, after 1991. Especially during the last ten years of the Saddam regime, these groups were absolutely independent in terms of taxation, legislation, and the policing of social life. In other words, the Kurdish groups had acquired almost all the attributes of a sovereign state except international recognition. But relations between the Kurdish region and the central government remain thorny, despite the fact that Iraq now has a Kurdish president. The current situation is an exacerbated version of past trends in Iraq. Since the formation of Iraq, the Kurdish region has been one of the most underdeveloped, politically and culturally repressed, destroyed, and ethnically cleansed parts of the state.61 Kurdish groups make up some 20 percent of the total population, but their strong identity gives them demographic weight. Thus, it has always been very difficult to assimilate Kurdish groups. They have a strong sense of separate identity. Consequently, they have traditionally organized on a tribal basis. What makes their case even more problematic is their geographical situation, which has protected them from any direct and central rule since the Ottoman centuries. They inhabit the highlands and mountain valleys. Ever since Iraq became independent in 1932, the Kurds have demanded some form of self-rule in Kurdish areas. But Iraqi rulers have always perceived the

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traditional Kurdish ambition for more autonomy as a threat. Thus, the various governments had offered alternative inducements in return for their participation in the new Iraqi political culture, mainly an Arab project. When such methods did not work, those governments turned to violence. The historic enmity between the Kurds and the central government contributed to the tenacious survival of Kurdish culture. Special intelligence outfits were organized against Kurdish movements. Economic sanctions were imposed against them. All these methods were substitution mechanisms that compensated for the failure of modern sovereignty in the domestic realm. The Kurds were incorporated into the new Iraqi state despite their own nationalist aspirations. The Western, mainly British, promise to the Kurds in the Treaty of Sevres (1920) was at the root of the legal discussion on the issue. The Treaty had a special section (section 3) named “Kurdistan.” Its Article 62 provided for “a scheme of local autonomy for the predominantly Kurdish areas.” Articles 62 and 64 allowed for a completely independent Kurdistan, in which the anticipated borders included a part presently incorporated in Iraq.62 When this promise was ignored in practice, the Kurds immediately rebelled against Iraqi authority. In 1922, the British mandatory authorities promised them a form of autonomy in northern Iraq; but by this time the leading Kurdish groups had rejected any kind of Iraqi suzerainty.63 They felt deceived by the United Kingdom. This led to serious clashes between the Kurds and government forces in the early years of the Iraqi state. However, after Britain changed its position on the “Kurdistan” issue, it was not very difficult to suppress Kurdish rebellions. They were held in check during the 1920s and 1930s by the R AF planes that the British provided the Iraqis for controlling the north.64 Having suppressed the Kurdish rebellions, the central government put into practice several reforms aimed at gaining the loyalty of Kurds. In 1926, the initial Iraqi local-language law provided for the teaching of Kurdish in schools in Kurdish-speaking areas, and for the publication of Kurdish-language books. In addition, there was Kurdish representation in the government, and Kurdish was declared an official language in several parts of Iraq. Such decisions were followed by several others, and resulted mainly in the increase of the number of Kurdish figures in government units. Yet the Iraqi regime’s agenda was to assimilate these groups, whether by force or the tactical distribution of state opportunities. As expected, several big rebellions erupted in the late 1930s to protest the Arabization of Kurdish regions. This brought no major success, and several of Kurdish leaders fled to regional countries, among them Iran. The Kurdish groups welcomed the 1958 Free Officer’s coup in the belief that the new regime would be generally sympathetic to their cause. The newConstitution, which declared Arabs and Kurds partners in the Iraqi homeland,65 inspired euphoria among the Kurds. Naturally, some Kurds ardently supported the 1958 Revolution, to the extent that they did not refrain from supporting Qasim’s power in local struggles with other groups. In 1958, several important figures returned to Iraq from exile. The appointment just

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after the coup of several important Kurds to high-level positions was a fulsome gesture of goodwill toward the Kurds. However, it transpired quickly enough that the Free Officers had no special interest in or commitment to the Kurdish question.66 For them, the critical issue was the expansion of the United Arab Republic, or more specifically, the pushing of Iraq into that Republic. This was far from the Kurdish people’s liking, for it entailed the prospect of ultra-Arabization. When in 1961 the Kurds asked Qasim to give them more autonomy and a share of oil revenues, he rejected the request. The Kurds of northern Iraq revolted. Iraq put down the Kurdish revolt, and fighting between the Iraqi government and the Kurds set in. By 1960, concessions to the Kurds had been withdrawn, and for the next fifteen years, the Iraqi government carried out an extended campaign of Arabization of Kurdish areas, which included such tactics as armed warfare, the destruction of villages and the deportation of Kurds, the moving of Arabs into Kurdish areas, and other measures designed to weaken and destroy Kurdish resistance. The effects of urbanization, as in the Shi’i case, transformed the Kurdish movement. The Kurdish migration was prompted by escalating armed conflict with the central authorities, the destruction of villages and land by widespread bombings, and the severe droughts of the 1958–1961 period. In addition to destroying traditional resources, the severe fighting had hindered the development of education, health, and other services. The Kurds had no prospects amidst these disturbances. Urban living yielded new perceptions and ideas. For example, it was traditionally easy to distinguish the various communities of Kurds according to their tribal affiliation. But once urbanized, they increasingly polarized along political lines. A new class of Kurdish intellectuals developed in urban centers. Beyond traditional and religious values, they were associated with new ideas such as socialism. Immediately after seizing power in 1963, the Ba’th Party made approaches to the Kurdish movement. They invited several Kurdish leaders to join the government. Also, the Ba’th offered a new proposal, including several new regulations about the status of Kurds. A new negotiation process began. However, in May 1963, fighting again broke out between government forces and Kurdish groups. The Kurdish groups had reached the conclusion that the new regime was hardly different from Qasim’s. What the Ba’th wanted was to incorporate Kurdish groups in the context of their political agenda. They had no commitment to extending the limits of Kurdish autonomy. In a short time, the fighting turned into a massacre, as the government brought in its aircrafts and tanks.67 In this context, Prime Minister Al-Bazzaz’s proposal of autonomy was a significant development. In 1966, after announcing a ceasefire, he put forward a peace plan that included the principle of Kurdish autonomy: the use of Kurdish in schools, the maintenance of tribal units, and a general pardon. Faced with the prospect of endless military conflicts with the Kurds and remembering the political and economic costs, this plan aimed for a

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quick solution. But Al-Bazzaz’s plan came to nothing, for he was forced out of office a few months later.68 In 1968, the Iraqi president appointed three Kurdish ministers from different Kurdish political groups to resume negotiations. By appointing these Kurdish ministers, President al-Bakr aimed to play off factions in Kurdish areas against each other. Despite this devious pragmatism, the Kurdish ministers contributed to the negotiation process for a while. But several groups were still unhappy with the situation, and two of Barzani’s representatives resigned in protest. The government and the Kurdish groups had different visions. The principal Kurdish leaders distrusted the new leadership and soon launched a major revolt. Kurdish forces attacked several oil installations in the Kirkuk area.69 Military conflict erupted once again. However, despite the fighting, negotiations between the Kurdish groups and the central government continued secretly during 1969. They were fruitless, and fighting broke out once more in the spring of 1969. In the early 1970s, political conditions changed dramatically. Saddam Hussein, the assistant secretary general of the Ba’th Party and vice president of the Republic, negotiated a ceasefire with the principal Kurdish leader, Mustafa Barzani. This showed that Saddam Hussein was more disposed to a civilian solution to the Kurdish problem rather than a military one. The new political elite in the government were of the same mind. The Eighth Congress of the Iraqi Ba’th Party reelected Hassan al-Bakr as secretary general of the Party, and Saddam Hussein as assistant secretary general. After that Congress, apart from Bakr, a general, the only military officer was the minister for the interior. This Congress clearly meant to implement a new policy of reducing the role of the military and subjecting it to civilian control. Also, it should be emphasized that the Congress had set Kurdish autonomy as a new target. The Ba’th Party, under the leadership of Saddam Hussein, recognized the Kurdish Democratic Party (KDP) as one of the three progressive parties in Iraq, and strenuously urged it to join the ruling National Progressive Front, consisting of the dominant Ba’th Party and the Iraqi Communist Party. But the KDP resisted these pressures, waiting for the final terms of what was to be Kurdish autonomy. According to the ceasefire agreement, the Kurdish areas in northern Iraq were to be granted autonomy. Which areas are Kurdish was to be determined by population density, in accord with the census to be taken in October 1970. However, there were some problems. A departure between the Ba’th Party and the KDP occurred over the extent to which the Kurdish government was to be autonomous, and over the method of identification of the areas that would be properly designated as Kurdish areas. The KDP insisted that the Kirkuk region is Kurdish. The oil reserve there was important to both parties. When they met on January 16, 1970, to finalize the autonomy agreement, the KDP rejected the Ba’th plan. Their objection was that it determined the Kurdish areas on the basis of the 1956 census, and that Kirkuk had since become Kurdish populated. Also, the Ba’th proposal made no mention of control over resources and petroleum revenues. The Kurdish

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leaders demanded a direct share in oil revenues. And the Ba’th plan did not recognize the KDP as the sole representative of the Kurdish people.70 The negotiations were resolved in 1970, during Saddam Hussein’s presidency. In March 1970, the government and the Kurds reached an agreement, to be implemented within four years, for the creation of an Autonomous Region consisting of the three Kurdish governorates and adjacent districts that had been determined by census to have a Kurdish majority. The agreed plan carried several noteworthy provisions: The region of Kurdistan enjoys self-rule. The use of the term “Kurdistan” was a departure from the longtime Arab reluctance to give such a definite national name to the Kurdish region. The designation “Kurdistan” was seldom used by the Ba’thists. Instead, they used such terms as “the region,” “the zone,” “the northern region,” “our north,” or “the autonomous area.”71 The plan held that the region was “an integral part of Iraq.”72 It could have a Legislative Assembly that consisted of fifty members elected for threeyear terms from among candidates approved by the central government. The Legislative Assembly was to choose its own officers, including its cabinet chairman, deputy chairman, and secretary. Also, several Kurds were to be allowed into the central government. Kurdish would be recognized as the official language, the region would have a special budget, and the elected Legislative Council could introduce legislation to organize the development of culture and national characteristics. The Council appointed local administrative personnel without interference form the central government. But the president of the Council was to be appointed by the president of Iraq. However, the National Front (the Ba’th Party and the Communist Party) parties objected to the degree of autonomy demanded by the KDP. The Front wanted the President of Iraq to have the authority do dismiss the regional executive council. The KDP did not want the central government to have that kind of control. Also, despite its pro-autonomy stand, the Nationalist Front was against the centralization of oil resources. Oil production in Iraq increased rapidly after the nationalization of the northern fields (Kirkuk and Mosul) in 1972. Therefore, the Ba’th Party, supported by the Communist Party, did not want the management of petroleum resources to be decentralized.73 Surprisingly, by implementing these plans, Saddam Hussein recognized Kurdish rights in a way that far exceeded all previous concessions. Their distinct national identity was confirmed, and they were promised participation in government at local and central levels.74 But this was seen by some Kurds as a tactical step, and the perception stimulated a high degree of politicization among them that crystallized their ethno-nationalism. The still-weak, new Ba’th Party regime was at the same time seeking to consolidate its grip on power, and intent on buying much-needed time with a tactical solution to the chronic Kurdish problem.75 Saddam Hussein used a carrot-and-stick strategy to achieve this solution. He implemented his 1974 plan, but at the same time razed all Kurdish villages along the 1,300-kilometer border with Iran, thereby forcibly relocating many Kurds.

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This first experiment lasted for only four years. Once the Ba’th Party managed to consolidate its power, it quickly moved to crush the Kurdish autonomy. All semblance of good office disappeared when the Saddam regime decided to resettle Arab families in the northern (Kurdish) parts of Iraq in order to reduce the size of the future Kurdish region.76 As a typical reaction, the Kurdish groups did not hesitate to make contact with Iranian officials during this crisis. In 1974, the KDP attacked Iraqi troops after the government refused to give them control of the oil-rich province of Kirkuk. The government suppressed the revolt. Also, international development damaged the Kurdish movements’ strength. It was the agreement between Iran and Iraq. In 1975, Iran withdrew its support of Kurds as part of the Algiers Accord between Tehran and Baghdad. This was a major setback for the Kurdish movement. The Kurds lost the support first of the Soviet Union, then of Iran with the Algiers Accord of 1975. Without Iran, the Kurds were unable to hold their territory, and were forced to surrender to the Iraqis; around 130,000 refugees fled to Iran.77 The settlement of border disputes with Iran allowed the latter to stop aid to the Kurds. The Algiers Accord paved the way for several other developments: A breakaway faction emerged in the KDP (established in 1946), led by Masoud Barzani, the son of Mulla Mustafa Barzani. The faction that left the KDP opposition to the Accord formed the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) under Talabani. As expected, deprived of international support, the Kurdish groups became more vulnerable to Baghdad’s rule. Meanwhile, certain international events left their mark on Kurdish groups. Most Kurdish leaders initially saw the 1979 Islamic Revolution in Iran as a possible vehicle for promoting Kurdish aspirations toward self-government. But the conflict between Iran and Iraq divided the Kurdish groups in two states. The Iraqi and Iranian regimes each chose to support a Kurdish faction opposing the other’s government, and this intervention divided the Kurds along “national lines.” As a result, during the 1980s the Kurds in Iraq tended to hope for an Iranian victory in the Iran–Iraq War, while a number of Kurds in Iran thought that an Iraqi victory would best promote their own aspirations. Because most Kurds were Sunni Muslims, however, their enthusiasm for a Shi’i government in either country was somewhat limited. But the war afforded Kurdish groups the opportunity to intensify their opposition to the Iraqi government. In 1987, two Kurdish parties made an alliance and allowed the Iranian army to enter Kurdish territory. This was a severe sovereignty crisis. Meanwhile, despite the Autonomous Region’s government institutions, genuine self-rule did not exist in Kurdistan in the 1980s. All reports confirm that the Iraqi government continued to forcibly expel Kurds from statecontrolled areas of the country as part of its Arabization program, started in the 1970s. Also, Iraqi authorities had intensified the Arabization campaign by arresting hundreds of Kurds in Kirkuk. The central government in Baghdad continued to exercise tight control by reserving to itself the power

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to make all decisions in matters pertaining to justice, the police, internal security, and administration of the frontier areas. The Ba’th Party, through the minister of state for Regional Autonomy and other ministerial representatives operating in the region, continued to supervise the activities of all governing bodies in the region. The minister for justice and a special oversight body set up by the Court of Cassation reviewed all local enactments and administrative decisions, and they countermanded any local decrees that were deemed contrary to the Constitution, laws, or regulations of the central government. The central government’s superior authority was most dramatically evident in the frontier areas, from which government security units had forcibly evacuated Kurdish villagers to the distant lowlands. In 1986, the central government launched a long and complex military campaign (al-Anfal) in the Kurdish areas.78 This was another large campaign against the Kurdish struggle for autonomy within Iraq. Al-Anfal used many substitution mechanisms, such as redistribution of private properties, Arabization, mass displacement of people, force, and the instrumentalization of tribal alliances against the Arabs. The purpose of the campaign was to annihilate Kurdish resistance by any means necessary. Mass executions took place during Al-Anfal, including the infamous chemical attack on Halabja in March 1988.79 The Post-1991 Era: The Embryonic Kurdish State Regional developments after 1991 launched a new era for Kurdish groups. These developments introduced many changes in terms of sovereignty. When the Coalition forces defeated Iraq in 1991, Kurdish groups rose up against the central government. All government offices, including the military ones, representing the central authority were overthrown. Baghdad’s reaction was brutal: the Iraqi army organized mass executions. Thousands of Kurds fled to the Turkish border.80 But later international developments helped the Kurdish groups. They began to build a de facto state and government under the aegis of the Coalition’s Provide Comfort Operations and No-Fly Zone. On April 5, 1991, the UN Security Council passed Resolution 688, which set up a safe haven for the Kurds in northern Iraq, expressly excluding all Iraqi forces and forbidding their over-flight of the area north of the thirtysixth parallel. These measures led to the withdrawal of the Iraqi armed forces from large areas of the north. A ceasefire line was established in October 1991, on a boundary line that roughly matched the Kurdish region as defined in 1974.81 The first Kurdish election was held in May 1992, resulting in autonomous government in the Kurdish region. This government started policing the northern borders of Iraq. Such conditions made a quasi-state of the Kurdish region. With the formation of this government, the political system in Iraq became different. There was the central government, which claimed absolute right to represent Iraq internationally, and there was the administration in

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the Kurdish region, which did not claim to represent all of Iraq, but was striving to function as a federal authority within the Iraqi state. Pursuing different ends by different means, these two governments contradict each other in terms of conception, thought, values, and practices.82 The existence of a Kurdish government was the result of international pressure and decisions, not the consent of the Baghdad government. Encouraged by international developments, the Kurdish groups felt they could compensate for their historic failure by demanding an independent state. A parliamentary communiqué of the northern Kurdish region, issued on October 4, 1992, was clear evidence of Kurdish intention. The post– World War I regulations were unjust to Kurdish people, as they deprived “. . . this ancient nation of its legitimate right to independence.”83 But the traditional impediment to realizing the Kurdish ambition for independent statehood still exists: Neither the occupier (the United States) nor the regional states support it. From a systemic perspective, a Kurdish state is most unlikely, for such a development would mean the end of the existing state systems of Turkey, Iran, Iraq, and Syria.84 Recognizing these limits, the Kurdish groups demand a federal model in Iraq. The departure from the idea of independence is complete for the Kurds, for they have failed to gain international support. Historically speaking, the Kurds have a pathological link with the international system. Since they use foreign leverage in order to enhance their status in Iraq, their cooperation with the system has often endangered their position. Today it is international forces that have enabled the emergence of a Kurdish statelet in the region. Its existence can easily be brought to an end by the same forces. For example, a UN Security Council Resolution in 2004 torpedoed the Kurdish–Shiite alliance that had begun to take shape before the U.S. invasion of Iraq.85 In 2004, the Kurdish groups declared that it was their right to have at least one of the important state offices in contemporary Iraq.86 Their wishes now granted, the traditional Kurdish aim for equal representation in government was attained. They see the current process as a golden opportunity to realize their historical claims. Therefore, they are very sensitive about the restoration of central government in Iraq. For instance, former prime minister Iyad Allawi’s decision to disband the illegitimate Kurdish militia attested to the perception that it amounted to a direct threat from the Kurds. The Kurdish militias are an army equipped with light and heavy weapons. Dissolving these militia means the end of the separate status that the Kurdish states had enjoyed for the past fifteen years, a status that had brought it closer to independence. The Kurds are still critical of attempts to restore a central government in Iraq, even though the present central government is led by a Kurdish president. In the post-Saddam era, the Kurdish groups represented by the KDP and PUK have so far been successful in cooperating with each other in order to realize their aims. However, it should kept in mind that both parties have historical problems: each side has accused the other of imposing economic

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blockades, stealing millions of dollars from the Kurdish Regional Government, sabotaging electrical installations, cultivating narcotics, and conniving with Baghdad and various foreign powers, among other misdeeds.87 Notwithstanding such problems, high-level delegations from the PUK and KDP held several meetings to put in place the necessary preparations to expedite the merger of the administrations of the two regional governments in Kurdistan, and to set up a mechanism for it, a key demand “of our [Kurdish] people.”88 As stated in the Kurdish region’s Constitution, their aim is a federal Iraq in which all the different groups are represented, lest one group rises to dominate the rest. But for some, this is only a tactical strategy. Kurdish leaders, including Barzani, have many times declared that the ultimate aim of their “nation” is an independent state. However, other regional actors, especially Turkey, Iran, and Syria, see the devil in this aim.89 But all the same, in the post-1991 era, thanks to the international controls on Iraqi central government, the Kurdish groups have become quasi-state actors.

Transformation of the Sovereignty Crisis Three historical issues have been summarized to present how certain problems may create structural sovereignty crisis. These summaries showed that many typical sovereignty crises, already described in chapter 1, exist in Iraq. In this part, given the previous discussions, the current situation in Iraq is analyzed with special reference to recent developments. Foreign intervention changed the course of developments in Iraq. Several historical problems that have been the cause sovereignty crisis, such as the Kurdish issue and the sectarian split, have transformed into a deep endemic crisis. Foreign intervention is not a new experience in Iraq. Intervention has several times been the agenda of Western powers.90 The British intervention of 1940 was an important event. During the late 1930s, Iraqi officers were unwilling to cooperate with Britain, and the pan-Arab leaders began secret negotiations with the Axis Powers. Britain decided to send reinforcements to Iraq and contingents entered Iraq in April and May 1941; armed conflict with Iraqi forces followed. The hostilities lasted only thirty days, during which period a few Iraqi leaders fled the country. By the end of May, the Iraqi army had capitulated. This instance of British intervention had far-reaching consequences. Britain was given the use of transportation and communication facilities, and the Iraqi declaration of war on the Axis Powers was in place in January 1942. Many former officials were dismissed from their posts.91 It was only in 1948 that the Jabr government negotiated for the removal of British concessions. After negotiations in London, the two sides came to an agreement on January 15, 1948. It was this agreement that provided for a new alliance between Iraq and Britain, on the basis of equality and complete independence. This treaty sought an alliance on the basis of mutual interest. On that

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the agreement, Britain’s use of Iraqi bases in the event of war, or the threat of war, would be dependent on Iraq’s invitation. Whereas Iraq was declared an independent kingdom in 1932 and admitted to the League of Nations, British influence had continued till the late 1960s. Between 1941 and 1958, Britain and the Iraqi regime collaborated not only on administration, economic development, and defense issues, but also, for many years, on the country’s domestic politics.92 However, the developments since 1991 should be seen as a truly new era for Iraq in terms of sovereignty crisis. The intervention of foreign powers and international organizations created an unprecedented situation in which sovereignty collapse became inevitable. As already noted, the realization of sovereignty in Iraq has always been impeded by several factors. But all these facts originated from a simple reality: the incompatibility of the colonially imposed model and local conditions. There were always problem such as the Kurdish question and the Sunni–Shi’i tension. However, the developments of the post-1991 era are composed of exogenous factors. A set of international decisions and steps have made the realization of sovereignty in Iraq almost impossible. Iraq, having suffered its own problems, is now perplexed by the new conditions created by international politics. In short, Iraqi sovereignty has collapsed. Today, neither Westphalian nor domestic sovereignty exists in Iraq. The presence of foreign soldiers and the American-based rule ended Westphalian sovereignty. William Pfaff has described the current process in Iraq as the “. . . denunciation of the modern state order that has governed international relations since the Westphalian Settlement of 1648.” 93 Meanwhile, the Kurdish and the Shi’i groups are operating almost independently. Despite the Kurdish president ensconced in Baghdad Palace, relations between the central government and Baghdad are not smooth. It is as if the business of government is being conducted by two equal partners. The relationship between domestic groups is not organized according to a classic federalist model. For example, the Kurdistan region is to open a bureau in Baghdad. And a bureau to represent federal government is to be opened in Arbil.94 In fact, there is no legitimate central government in Iraq. For this reason, many of the important domestic boundaries between the state and society have failed. As discussed above, the Kurdish groups began to build a de facto state and government under the aegis of the Coalition’s Provide Comfort Operations and No-Fly Zone schemes. They have now built a de facto state and government, a feat enabled by these two schemes. The unprecedented 1991 United Nations Security Council Resolution 688 also played an important symbolic role.95 These measures led to the withdrawal of the Iraqi armed forces from large areas of the north, and the ceasefire line of October 1991.96 The Iraqi government had informed the UN that these and related measures would “constitute a serious, unjustifiable and unfounded attack on the sovereignty and territorial integrity of Iraq.” 97 Nevertheless, the Kurds remain protected by the efforts of Operation Northern Watch, which guards them from the perceived aggression of Baghdad. While the international community

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prevented Saddam’s engagement with the region, the oil-for-food deal provided the Kurdish groups with 13 percent of Iraqi oil revenue. Besides, the whole region is under the absolute control of Kurdish groups, leaving them free to make money in devious ways, such as smuggling. On this simple model, the Kurdish groups, the KDP and the PUK, succeeded in creating an embryonic Kurdish state with its own government and parliament. They have their prisons and courts. An election was held in May 1992. A Kurdistani National Assembly was established, composed of deputies from the KDP and PUK. These groups issued a new constitution. In 1992, the eight political parties that made up the Iraqi Kurdistan Front passed the Act for Electing the Parliament in Iraqi Kurdistan. This was a historical turning point, as it is the first law to be enacted by a de facto Kurdish authority exercising power and assuming decision-making rights in the Kurdish region of Iraq, irrespective of the central government.98 Iraqi Kurdistan became divided into two statelets.99 After the United Nations Security Council Resolution 688, the central government lost control of these lands and Kurdish groups were totally unleashed. Not only did they establish their domestic institutions, but also they were integrated into international realm. Iraqi law had never provided for such a status of Kurdish groups. Yet, with the help of the international community, the Kurdish groups agreed to open bureaus for a Kurdish diplomatic mission in New York and Brussels in May 1995. Strangely, the Kurdish region was turned into a medieval political landscape of overlapping authorities and groups. Therefore, many problems of sovereignty were quickly manifest. The de facto partition of the Kurdistan factions found the means of maximizing gains. At the end of 1993 and the beginning of 1995, long rounds of heavy fighting between the two parties led to the de facto partition of Iraqi Kurdistan into two statelets.100 Each Kurdish group (the KDP and the PUK) had long had a council of ministers. Thus, each party established new custom points and tariffs along the “internal borders” separating the regions of the KDP from that of the PUK.101 In other words, each Kurdish group established the boundaries of its statelets. Contrary even to the existing Interim Constitution, the intra-border movement of people was restricted by Kurdish authorities. The Kurdish groups established their political systems on sectarian and ethnic lines. The KDP reportedly requires membership lists from ethnicminority political parties.102 In this context, various Assyrian organizations were banned or prohibited by the Kurdish authorities. The Turcoman plight is very similar, as several military clashes have occurred between them and the Kurds.103 Kurdish groups discriminate against other ethnic groups, notably the Assyrians and the Turcoman. Primordial loyalties are still the number-one limits of democracy and peace in Kurdistan. The Turcoman blamed the Kurds for doing in one year what the Ba’thist regime took thirtyfive years to do.104 They are also very critical of the heavy program of Kurdification. The Kurdish parties control all state establishments and facilities and government departments. They settled more than 600,000 Kurds

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into the region, some of them from Iran and Turkey.105 They have even ruled that a compensation of twenty million Iraqi dinars would be paid to Arab settlers (who were brought to the region in the course of the various Arabization programs of previous Iraqi regimes) on their repatriation.106 Ironically, the Kurdish reaction to these claims about their behavior seems very modernist. Barzani said that if people want to settle in Kurdistan in a natural way, the Kurdistan-region government would not object, as Kurdistan is part of Iraq.107 Paradoxically, this abuse of the nation-state discourse is in full flow despite the restrictions imposed by the Kurdish authorities on intraborder traffic in northern Iraq. However, the displacement of people is not only about Kirkuk. The insecure conditions in many parts of the country, where the daily norm is killings and attacks, are themselves causes of displacement. For instance, many Armenian families have emigrated from Iraq.108 Along with the Kurdish problem, the Sunni–Shi’i split is also exacerbated and continued in different forms in the post-Saddam era. The first sectarian split happened during the 2005 elections. Unlike the Shi’i groups, the Sunni groups protested the elections in most Sunni cities. Some Sunni regions even declined to participate. Despite their internal cleavages, the Shi’i groups are well organized. The United Iraqi Alliance, a list endorsed by Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, the primus inter pares of the Shi’i clerics, won 48 percent of the votes in the 2005 elections. Since Iraqi citizenship has collapsed, the election process was dominated by ethnic and sectarian identities instead of citizenship-based ones. Thus, it was more a race between sects and tribes rather than a national election.109 Given all these developments, the upshot is the continuing sovereignty crisis in Iraq. This crisis is becoming worse, given the political agendas of certain groups. The term “medieval” is not a symbolic presentation of Iraq but a factual one. Due to sectarian and tribal groupings, the interim government cannot rule the country beyond some cities. For example, Minister of Foreign Affairs Zebari, a Kurdish political leader, is legitimate in eighteen cities. In many other Sunni Arab and Shi’i dominated cities, Zebari is not recognized as a legitimate leader. Former minister Felah Nakib was recognized as a legitimate political figure in only fifteen cities during his term.110 Because of group effects, only five candidates could be declared elected on a list led by Ghazi al-Yawer, the former Arab Sunni Iraqi president. This shows how unpopular the Iraqi interim president was. In fact, Al-Yawer was a typical tribal figure. He was from the Shamaar tribe that resides in Saudi Arabia, Iraq, and other parts of the region. Similar transnational tribes, such as the Aniza, have significant influence on Iraqi politics.111 The current government also has discernible tribal characteristics. The factors that paralyze Iraqi sovereignty are not limited to historical problems. The set of novel problems that came with the international sanctions imposed against Iraq has also created radical structural problems of sovereignty. Though in new ways, those sanctions weakened important domestic boundaries. As most know, the UN imposed a comprehensive

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economic embargo on Iraq in the aftermath of the invasion of Kuwait. On April 3, 1991, the UN Security Council adopted Resolution 687. This very detailed Resolution was the basic text that shaped the future of Iraq in the international system. A set of new sanctions was launched. These sanctions were unprecedented in comprehensiveness, severity, and duration, and in the enormous human and economic cost to Iraq.112 Shereen T. Ismael claims that the imposition of the sanctions regime on Iraq represented the colonial occupation of Iraq by the Security Council.113 The sanctions were especially devastating to Iraqi sovereignty. They weakened many essentials of Iraqi society. The complex human tragedy inflicted by these sanctions absolutely disrupted the legacy of the Iraqi project that had been in operation since 1932. Thus, Iraq’s sovereignty took a major blow after 1991. All important pillars, symbols, and values of a society that shape national identity were damaged by the sanctions. National borders, national and political unity, the presidency, and the capital (to name only some nation-state institutions) became almost meaningless, their functions eroded. In addition, education, art, and free travel were considerably restricted, and the fact was ignored that these are the social institutions and interactions that are vital to the maintenance of a national identity. Because of the thirteen-year imposition of a ruthless regime of sanctions, the modernization process was brought to a complete halt. The Iraqi social fabric had collapsed.114 The sanctions destroyed the legacy of Iraqi modernization. A former UN humanitarian coordinator aimed the deft query: “The question that needs an answer is how much does it cost to run a nation, particularly a nation disabled by ten years of sanctions?”115 The sanctions destroyed the past achievements of nation building: the consequence was malnutrition and displaced people. Nearly 600,000 people were displaced. In short, Iraq became a nation that was withering away.116 Tribalism has institutionalized in Iraq. It is very usual to see tribal meetings in which tribal groups discuss how to protect their position in Iraqi politics. Obviously, the rationale of those meetings is tribal. For example, at a meeting with the tribal leaders in the town Kut, some Shi’i leaders mulled the idea that no Shi’a can enter Ramadi and Tikrit, two towns run by Sunni groups.117 The role of tribes is visible in the ironic policies that deploy tribal methods to enhance central authority. For example, on August 6, 2006, a conference of Iraqi tribal chiefs was held in the Maysan Governorate Administration headquarters to discuss ways to activate the National Reconciliation Project. General Karim Hashim Muhammad al-Battat, director of the Maysan Tribal Affairs Department, told the independent Aswat al-Iraq news agency that the goals of the conference were to discuss the contents of the National Reconciliation Project, and to explain the role of the tribal chiefs in the project. To him, the conference was a general call to tribal leaders. Naturally, if ironically, the resort to tribal networks enhances the status of tribal leaders. In fact, they are happy with this. Abbas Sarrut al-Isma’ili, dean of the Isma’ili

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sect in Iraq, said that the conference gathered all tribes and sects in the governorate, and that the success of the National Reconciliation Project is a victory for Iraq. Al-Isma’ili added: “Tribal chiefs will hold expanded seminars in their guest halls to explain the project to all people and ensure its success.”118 The use of tribalism is a fond instrument of the Ba’th Party. The Party addressed a statement to the Iraqi tribes in southern Iraq, in which it warned them against what it called U.S. and Iranian infiltration.119 It is apparent that tribal networks are still very important in efforts to influence the public. Indeed, the excessive use of tribalism has become a alarming concern for many. As expected, the tribal groups maintain their tribal inclination when they are appointed to posts in the central government. In fact, the government is very weak because it is a quota-sharing government. Former Prime Minister Allawi described the current political program in Iraq as based on sectarianism and not on Iraq’s national identity.120 Allawi is not the only person with such a perspective. Mish’an al-Jubari, a member of Iraqi parliament, has strongly criticized the government and the Shi’a for being “the symbols of Safawis in Iraq.”121 For some, the tribal mania goes so far as to approve the pursuit of independence. In this perspective, the ultimate aim of each group in Iraq is to create a suitable “place” in which an in-group solution can be sustained. Sa’id Abd-al-Hadi puts the situation thus: “The Kurd is thinking of building his Kurdish state, the Shiite of building his Shiite region, and the Sunni of returning to govern a country that only exists in his imagination.”122 It is not easy to satisfy all groups in such an over-tribalized system. The government is criticized for being tribalist in the way it distributes its services. For example, according to some Kurds, several ministers from the Al-Sadr group do not care for Kurds. The minister of health, affiliated with the Al-Sadr group, became a Kurdish target.123 But some Kurdish ministers are criticized by others. What Salih al-Mutlaq wrote in al-Sharq al-Awsat is a good summary of the tribal competition in the country, and how this competition is ruining statehood in Iraq: We, the people of Iraq, never understood the homeland to be merely a farm that can be divided when rivals differ or when they want to differ. We do not understand the homeland to be a land that can be divided among tribes.124

It is also not easy to annihilate the tribal formations of Iraqi politics. Tribalism is still meaningful for many leading Iraqi figures. Former President Al-Yawer’s words on the role of tribalism in the new Iraq were reminiscent of the speeches of former Iraqi officials in the 1920s and 1930s; their conclusions are parallel: We have demanded that all the tribal, religious, and social symbols should not be infringed upon. We are conservative Middle Eastern people and there are prominent figures even in the United States who are given special treatment.

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Regarding the tribes, I believe that the tribes are part of the Iraqi social makeup and perhaps members of the tribes should join parties and movements; they should not be the tools for confronting a crisis but effective tools in the development of the country, God willing.125

All international attempts to create a modern Iraq have run the gauntlet of the primordial (sectarian, tribal) patterns. Ghazi al-Yawer, former president of Iraq, is a tribal leader of the Iraqi Shammar Tribe. This tribe consists of around one million Sunni Arab Iraqis. The tribe has members also in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Syria, and the United Arab Emirates.126 Former prime minister Allawi was from the Shi’i majority.127 Undoubtedly, their selection was purposeful, and made because of their tribal and sectarian origins. Such tribal figures attest to the persistence of the traditional structure of Iraq. Apart from such prominent persons, all active groups in Iraq appear to operate on the basis of their sectarian or ethnic affiliations.128 Another catastrophic outcome of over-tribalization is that tribal leaders are the targets of terrorist attacks. As political interaction is mostly via tribal networks, tribal leaders are easy and impact-making targets. The point of killing tribal figures is to provoke the masses. For example, the police found the body of Shaykh Ibrahim al-Ali al-Nu’aymi, chieftain of the Al-Nu’aym tribes in Iraq, and the body of his son, forty meters west of Kirkuk.129 It is not an exaggeration to claim that a sectarian war is underway in Iraq today. According to Iyad Allawi, there is a sectarian war in Iraq, and calling it by any other name is wrong.130 Other prominent people have agreed with Allawi. Al-Dulaymi, member of the Iraqi parliament, described what is happening in Iraq as “a prelude to a sectarian war, if it is not (already) an unannounced sectarian war.”131 In fact, the statistics confirm Allawi. According to Pachachi, the head of the Iraqi Independent Democrats Grouping, more than two-third of deaths are attributable to killings with sectarian motives. Pachachi thinks also that the Shi’te and Sunni groups exploited people’s fears and waged the election campaign on the basis of sectarian polarization, and they obliterated political identity to replace it with sectarian identity. Ministers were not elected on the basis of their efficiency, experience, and integrity, but on the basis of their political and sectarian affiliation.132 The sectarian tension at governmental level naturally influences the lower levels. A Kurdish journalist, writing for Khabat, said that the Arab Sunni have launched an aggressive sectarian war against the Shi’a in Iraq.133 Such hate discourses prevail among all groups’ media. The Dismantlement of the State If the developments of the last two years are considered, the crisis of statehood in Iraq is now at a more critical stage than ever. Beyond the well-known issue of the Sunni–Shi’i split, is the failure of the state mechanism. The state has become empty and is incapable of government. There is neither a state nor real institutions of state.134 The end of state institutions is of great

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importance. “State” is an abstraction. What concretizes it is the set of services it provides to its own people. Once institutions that serve become obsolete, statehood fails and gives way to existential crisis. It is its services that make a state tangible, hence the termination of services produces structural crisis. The scarcity of potable water, the interruption of electricity supply, the lack of fuel and health services, and the absence of security and a judiciary declare structural crisis. According to the Arab League Representative in Iraq, the United States committed a grave mistake in Iraq by dismantling state institutions and dissolving the army.135 There is no state in Iraq today that is a provider of basic services. To begin with, no functional security mechanism exists. Groups that want to can easily block the roads.136 The failure of the state makes room for black marketers in many fields. The rise in price of kerosene, the insufficient supplies, and the increasing hours of power outage (sometimes over eighteen hours) create opportunities for price manipulation.137 A similar crisis is being experienced in agriculture. The lack of reticulated water and adequate fertilizer are severe problems in agriculture, as is the lack of fuel. There is also a severe vegetable crisis in the country.138 The destruction of health institutions has led to the growth of primitive street pharmacies.139 Not surprisingly for such a milieu, there is an unprecedented level of corruption. Corruption is itself another manifestation of state failure in Iraq.140 The poverty of social conditions also creates spaces for substate actors to create their statelets. Today, different sectarian and tribal groups are substituting the state: Al-Sadr’s office in the Al-Taji district is distributing cooking gas, foodstuff, and the like. And the office has created a new branch responsible for tribal reconciliation.141 But such formations do not refrain from creating simple courts. The central government’s activities toward reorganizing the state mechanism should be mentioned. Aware of the problems, it is trying to rejuvenate state infrastructure. New schools, laboratories, and computer halls are being opened. There is government investment in road and irrigation.142 However, many remain pessimistic about the government. There is the view that the deterioration in essential services is the consequence of ministries formed on sectarian bases. The concern of ministries and their officials has been to score sectarian gains, and not to offer the services that they are expected to offer.143 Also, domestic authority in the Iraqi state has totally collapsed. Not only have the public services collapsed but also the symbolic face of the state. Baghdad, says Iraqi journalist Abd-al-Hadi, is a capital that exists only in the imagination.144 Thus, the government is not in full control of any part of the country, not even Baghdad. Rule is in the hands of occupation forces: the militias, the death squads, and the political forces behind them.145 It is the militia who virtually rule the country. Questioned on who is ruling Iraq today, former prime minister Allawi responded that it is the armed militias.146 There are three militias in Iraq. These are the Kurdish peshmerga in northern Iraq (Kurdistan), the Badr Organization, and the Al-Mahdi

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Army.147 These three militias can be considered as three independent armies controlled by different political fractions. An Iraqi armed-faction leader, who is understood to be a Ba’thist, said armed militias are backed by parties represented in the parliament and the government.148 Talabani believes that the armed Iraqi groups are divided into four categories: the Zarqawis and Al-Qa’ida, the Saddamists in the Sunni areas, the factions engaged in military action under the slogan “driving out the occupier and imposing an Islamic system,” and the groups that hold weapons to fight the Shi’te–Kurdish alliance.149 When it comes to the absolute dissolution of such militias, even the Kurdish leaders are not optimistic. Asked about the abolition of the peshmerga, Barzani replied: “The mentality of our peshmerga is different; their training is different and their way of fighting is different. We cannot bring peshmergas to sit in Baghdad and become the target of terrorists, and to wait for their bodies to flood back.”150 Although the law (9/1/2004) stipulating the dissolution of the militias was adopted by the Governing Council after the new Iraqi state was established in the wake of Saddam Husain’s downfall, neither the government nor the occupation forces have taken it seriously.151 On the contrary, the leaders of the armed groups even have a say in the government: Hadi al-Amiri, head of the Badr Organization, served as the chairman of the Iraqi parliament’s Defense and Security Committee. Al-Amiri considers the existence of many militias to be the normal outcome of the current political situation in Iraq. In his words: “there are thirty-three ministries and thirty-three corresponding militias.”152 As another very striking sample, some groups claim that they have established an Islamic state. They even have there own operational mechanisms. The Islamic State in Iraq claims to have carried out hundreds of attacks in the major Iraqi cities. Islamic State even publishes long lists of people who have been punished according to Islamic law. The “Official Spokesman for the Islamic State’s Ministry of Information” makes regular press announcements. Similar situations are appearing even in smaller cities. Some radical groups are implementing their versions of Sharia law. They have expelled from some cities Christians who owned shops that sell alcohol. As another sample, the Ali Bin Abu Talib Brigade claims to have assassinated some members of the Iraqi military. The group informed the public that it “hunts an element of the criminal Safawi security maintenance forces in the Al-Dawoodi area of the beloved Baghdad.”153 Their discourse is important in analyzing the situation in Iraq. On the other hand, it is not unusual to see groups in police uniforms commit murders.154 For instance, a militia group in police commando uniform raided the Higher Education Ministry in central Baghdad on the morning of November 14, and on the morning of November 23. About thirty unknown militants raided the Iraqi Ministry of Health in downtown Baghdad. Thus, what is needed is the restoration of state institutions and the purging of the state of the militias.155 This does not, however, seem realistic in Iraq,

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where explosives and pistols can be bought in any market.156 It is also not easy to persuade the various groups. All groups in Iraq, including the ruling Kurdish and Shi’i groups, have very exclusive ideologies. This political model is a medieval one. There are clear signs that the discrete groups have come to see religion as the only common ground in Iraq. For example, it seems to President Talabani that the only way to draft a new constitution is to strike a bargain between the principles of democracy and the principles of Islam.157 It is as well to remember that Talabani has a social-democrat background, and his party is a member of the Socialist International. To him, there is an Iraqi majority with Islamic leanings, and this reality cannot be ignored. Similarly, Adnan Mufti, the speaker in the Iraqi Kurdistan National Assembly, said that the Kurdish leaders recognize the Islamic identity of the new Iraqi state, and that Islam is one of the sources of legislation.158 The traditional problems of Iraq have been exacerbated by recent events. Those events have given the discrete groups in Iraq an unprecedented open field of maneuver. Central rule has collapsed totally. What is called the new central rule in Baghdad is a distribution of political posts in accordance with tribal and sectarian influence. This sort of structure is without the means for preventing extensive, even comprehensive, sovereignty crisis.

The Continuing Hybridity In this chapter, how certain sovereignty crises limit the consolidation of Western sovereignty in the domestic realm was studied from three perspectives: official tribalism, the Sunni–Shi’i split, and the Kurdish problem. These three problems are capable of violating important state–society boundaries; the significant sovereignty crises in Iraq have turned out to be related to them. Having summarized those issues, we turned to the current situation in Iraq, with special attention trained on recent developments there. It was emphasized all along that many important pillars of Western sovereignty, in terms of state–society boundaries, have never been fully erected in Iraq. With the recent developments, even the ones that were standing have collapsed totally. The Iraq of today looks like a medieval landscape of pre-state actors. The process currently underway in Iraq might be a reenactment of old mistakes. Iraq still has the traditional configuration that impeded the realization of a Western regime. The new versions of the colonial imagination that are jockeying to impose a Western model on Iraq are proving to be yet another fruitless set of efforts. The well-known “Orientalist” agendas and debates are gushing once again. Thus, “the transfer of sovereignty in Iraq” is the elixir of wisdom effusively poured out by the media, politicians, and diplomacy.159 Iraq is again being studied through Western paradigms. In typical modernist logic, the conditions of Western democracy are being enumerated, and Iraq’s case is being evaluated in those terms. However, this is nothing other than the repetition of historical mistakes. A “formal transfer of sovereignty” will not make a state, just as the colonial

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injection of yore did not. As a matter of fact, current developments are already refuting the possibility. A revived colonial mentality along with a typical modernist reductionism is headed in the wrong direction. Indeed, there are important similarities between the ongoing process in Iraq and the U.K. presence between 1914 and 1932. The British efforts, which were “unable to accomplish anything that was either useful or enduring,” are profitably studied for an understanding of the prospects of the American presence in Iraq today.160 Iraq is still an unfinished project of which the nature was never clear. Iraq’s fundamental problems remain unsolved. Old alliances, loyalties, and identities are re-emerging, and are engaged in a search for new definitions. Although modernization and economic development had in past decades contributed to a greater interaction between the different communities, they fell short of affecting the core communal identities. The international community has added unprecedented problems to Iraq’s traditional ones. This has put the realization of a Western-type sovereignty well out of contemporary Iraq’s reach. Given these problems, hybrid characteristics will infest any model in Iraq. Despite the internationally injected forms and procedures, the primordial patterns of behavior seem to have adamant resilience. Iraq has no capacity or infrastructure to consolidate a nation-state in line with Western-type statehood. A Western-type sovereignty model is inapplicable in a study of Iraq. The hybrid model that has existed since 1932 till the end of Saddam’s regime is likely to dominate the political system. With overlapping authorities and groups having a medieval appearance, there is no appropriate ground to nurture the colonially injected Western-type sovereignty in Iraq.

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his work proposed that “hybrid sovereignty” is an apt characterization of the Arab nation-state, and the operational logic of Arab politics is perspicaciously discussed in those terms. “Hybrid sovereignty” describes the political condition in which traditional practices survive in the colonially introduced Western-state format. Analysis in terms of the hybrid-sovereignty approach protects the researcher from reductionist results that railroad conclusions into “failure” or “success” banalities. Typically, studies conducted through the narrow lens of agent-based methods neglect an account of complex structures in a headlong rush to conclusions that are the sum of poorly discerned and misunderstood simplicities. Reductionist conclusions about Arab politics deny its complexity. This denial leads to misunderstanding. Arab politics is complex on two levels: the formal Western-state infrastructure laced with the traditional worldview of an ancient culture that operates in the international system of nations, and the pre-state tradition of the Umma and its classic creeds and rivalries. Tradition not only survives, it is lived and felt. Indeed, it is more assertive than the Western-state component, which gives way to it in times of crisis. Yet tradition is not static. Modernity touches it off to send it sometimes into uncertain, sometimes uncongenial by-ways. The gap between the formal (Western-state-like) level and the operational level (hybrid) of Arab politics is both wide and permanent. The two levels are not mutually supportive, and when push comes to shove, the traditional components of the hybrid emerge stronger and more resourceful. All formal structures, such as government, taxation, citizenship, and elections, veil the multifaceted patterns of a complex traditional structure. In this way, traditional patterns survive within the operational layer. The cohabitation of the two is sometimes cordial and other times not. But it is always cohabitation, not fusion, or even a marriage. Appreciation of this fact led to the coining of the term “hybridity.” Symptoms of hybridity are manifest in sovereignty crises and in the resort to substitution mechanisms. The hybrid-bargain, the natural outcome of the encounter of the modern and the traditional, is apparent in sovereignty

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crises, particularly at the state–society level. The disagreement between the formal and the operational detonates them. Sovereignty crises are clear signs that Western-sovereignty criterion is not applicable in the region. How is it possible for a society to live without harmony at the formal and operational levels? The answer is simple: the nation-state was foisted on Arab lands by colonialism, and cooperation with that process was limited mostly to Arab leadership. However, even they are quick to fall back on traditional (or “substitution”) mechanisms in times of need. Nonetheless, the process was not entirely fractious, as the result shows: In modern times, we see a mixture of the alien and the traditional. This is little understood. The hybridsovereignty approach attempts to correct the gap in understanding this poorly analyzed aspect of Arab politics. Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq were analyzed through the lens of hybrid sovereignty. The domestic boundaries of statehood were taken as methodological samples. In each case, the hybrid-sovereignty approach calls attention to how Western statehood is limited in these countries. The structure that survives within the official format has restrained many state–society boundaries of modern statehood. Once analyzed through the hybrid-sovereignty method, the disagreement between the old and new is very evident. Yet, the hybrid bargain still dominates Arab politics. Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq each have their own social and political configuration. However, they have much in common, given their shared experience. By and large, similar samples of statehood crisis were detected in each case. This similarity can be taken as a proof of the efficiency of the hybridsovereignty approach at explaining the operational logic of these countries. The hybrid mechanism is evident at each juncture of the state–society level boundaries. Since Westernization was experienced at region level, its symptoms must be analyzed by citing different cases/nation-states. The detection of similar symptoms in each case strengthens the idea that the hybridsovereignty approach can be used to analyze more than one Arab state. The set of sovereignty crises listed in this study, such as the failure of citizenship, the lack of an efficient central rule, and so on, can be observed in most Arab states. This is to be expected, since the entire Middle East was subject to Westernization. Westernization had begun to transform the region many years before the formation of the Arab nation-states. The creation of hybrid patterns occurred in all parts of the region, for the expansion of the Western-state system influenced the entire Middle East. This Westernized region was then reorganized according to different nation-states. Therefore, the legacy of Westernization in the hybrid bargain is readily evident in all regional states. The details of the symptoms of hybridity were presented in the foregoing chapters. They are manifest in the problems of state–society relations. The hybrid-sovereignty approach attends to domestic boundaries when it sets out to analyze the problems of statehood because this writer firmly believes that the study of a state is first and most importantly a study of the relations between that state and its society.

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The politics of Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq are instructive. They show that although hybrid sovereignty is of the outcome of problems that operate on a structural level, it has gained a societal basis with time. Groups that had benefited from the hybrid bargain became its ardent defenders. For example, the traditional Sunni families of Jordan are always skeptical about the amendment of citizenship rules, for the status quo gives them enormous opportunities. It is very common to hear anxious voices from these groups urge the view that new demands may unsettle the traditional balance in Jordan. Hybridity can, as these groups prove, create an economy in which small groups of the privileged vehemently protect their position. This is indeed a societal ground in favor of hybridity. The groups who have successfully adapted themselves to the hybrid structure play a central role in politics. Gaining a societal ground has instrumentalized the hybrid model in the form of a political tool to be used against “outsider” groups, although they are members of the same state. A special type of relationship is in place between the hybrid sovereigns and the state system. Hybrid-sovereign states need the support of the international system. Since the very beginning, the modern-state system has been their raison d’être. Therefore, the disciplining effect of the system is more apparent in these states than in states in other parts of the world. For example, to reaffirm itself as a product of the international system, Jordan seeks to protect its sovereignty by depending on the system. The colonial gaps in its formation entail these necessities. As a colonial creation without mechanisms such as a functioning market and a national identity, the essential guarantee of its sovereignty is in the system. This is the legacy of its historical background. Thus, the logic behind its important foreign-policy decisions has been Jordan’s need to sustain exogenous political and economic factors for its survival. The economic deficit has always been Jordan’s way of protecting its political and economic autonomy. This has shaped its foreign-policy behavior. It seeks to compensate for its deficits by forming external alignments and importing exogenous benefits. A similar situation is present in Kuwait. The Kuwaiti brand of cliency has necessitated special foreign policy”: seeking outside support for an independent Kuwait through foreign aid. Therefore, it has been the most important security strategy of Kuwait to satisfy both domestic and external actors. Kuwait has used foreign aid almost as a new state–state level boundary. In the past, the system protected stability in Kuwait and Jordan. Even though in a highly disputed way, the system is again active in the Iraqi case. Thus, hybrid sovereigns’ dependency on the international system is chronic. In the beginning, it was the expansion of the state system that created modern states in Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq. Today, the dynamism of the system is still well able to exert influence in those states. Any potential problem concerning the connection between the system and the hybrid sovereigns is likely to be seen as a risk to the stability of the region. However, it should be remembered that the system can guarantee

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only state–state boundaries. When it comes to state–society boundaries, the system is incapable of creating a functional policy. That is especially clear in the Iraqi case. Even though the territorial borders of Iraq are respected, the system that operates in the country via the several Western powers (led by the United States) cannot revitalize domestic boundaries. It is the bargain between the government and the people that can protect and operate those boundaries. The colonial practice of creating new domestic boundaries, a common tactic of the 1920s and 1930s, is no longer possible in the region. As another common feature, nation-building agendas are fashionable in all cases. The Jordanian government’s “Jordan first” agenda, along with the new economic liberalization program, is a late attempt at nation building. Various important concepts, such as homeland and citizenship, are emphasized. Something similar is happening in Kuwait. In recent public statements, the government places special emphasis on citizenship. According to the official view, a functional citizenship is guarantee against the recurrence of the traumatic experiences of the past two decades. Thus, Kuwait is seeking to enliven its modern-state status by attending to the citizenship component. For quite different reasons, a nation-building agenda is in process in Iraq as well. These late nation-building agendas can be interpreted in different ways. First, states like Kuwait and Iraq witnessed unprecedented traumas. The invasion of Kuwait and the collapse of statehood there was truly a shock. When the ruling elite left the country, it was taken as a sure sign of the end of the state of Kuwait. The limits of statehood in this country were tested and apparently destroyed. Jordan’s difficulties in adapting to the post–Cold War era are also a test of the limits of its statehood. The traumatic events caused alarm among the states’ elite. This caused them to revisit the idea of creating an efficient state on the basis of citizenship. These late nationbuilding projects can even be interpreted as recent deviations from the everlasting, embedded, and almost obsessive Arab exceptionalism. Hybrid sovereigns are in a new international environment. The end of the Cold War era demolished all isolationist walls. In sharp contrast to the old, well-controlled bipolar game, there is now a sense of deregulation, and hence, of irregularity. Like other states, hybrid sovereigns are under the random effect of globalization. Before they can consolidate the basic pillars of statehood, Arab rulers have to contend with the often-ungovernable consequences of globalization. European states are almost agreed on denuding the significance of state boundaries such as borders and currency, and even central banks. In a global system in which a nation-state faces an acute crisis of erosion, hybrid sovereigns are in one sense trapped, since they still do not have efficient domestic boundaries. The global wave may further loosen the already malleable boundaries of the hybrid sovereigns. However, there is no single trend in the global system that regards boundaries. For example, unlike the European states, the newly independent states of Central Asia are in a kind of nation-building process. They are beefing up their domestic and international boundaries. These states are in transition

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from the transnational Soviet model to the nation-state based model. Bearing in mind the vital connection between the international system and hybrid sovereigns, it is clear that they cannot follow the path of the newly independent states of Central Asia. Both Kuwait and Jordan depend on the system. The borders between Iraq and the system have already blurred. However, an unprecedented level of liberalization is not a realistic expectation. How globalization will affect hybrid sovereigns remains to be seen. Statehood crises usually happen on domestic-level boundaries (between the state and the society) in Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq. Unlike the state–state level of the erstwhile problems of Western sovereignty, hybrid sovereigns have acute sovereignty crises in the domestic realm. State–society level boundaries are more difficult to mark than state–state boundaries. A simple Gramscian explanation can be proposed for this difference. Persuaded states recognize the sovereignty of other states. However, persuasion is not very important on the international level, since any state is ready to use power against an aggressor. The violation of the principle of nonintervention is the taboo of the modern international system. In other words, state–state level boundaries are sustained by coercion. Even dissatisfied states are normally reluctant to attack other states. Besides, states can conduct relations impersonally. Thus, conflict over recognition is not a rational state–state process. However, the modern state needs to persuade its people to respect domestic boundaries. Obviously, the persuasion of a large group of people with different ethnic, sectarian, and ideological backgrounds is a sizeable task. When the state is not equal to that task, it turns to coercion as the main instrument self-assertion. But even coercion may fail in realizing domestic boundaries. The crisis that originates from a transgression of state–society level boundaries puts identity-based issues at the head of political discourse. Thus, hybrid-sovereign politics depend heavily on identity. In other words, political life is conducted within a framework of cultural rather than functional (i.e., economic) differences. No functional basis exists for politics. Rather than societal demands and certain economic concerns, an identity culture is the axis of politics. As expected, a political system that turns on an identityculture axis is less open to a tolerant political environment that upholds a right to free speech. However, the central role of the state in politics and the economy impedes the rise of functional instruments in politics. Instead, politics is either submission to dictatorship or a struggle of contending identities. In the latter condition, discrete groups strive to project their identities onto state institutions. Theoretically, the rise of a functionalist framework may be realized only after the supremacy of the bureaucracy over the economy is disabled. The politics fuelled by cultural interests exacerbates the domesticboundaries problem where those boundaries are already problematic. In fact, people are less open to settlement when it comes to their identities and cultures than they are about economic cleavages. The origin of hybridity is in the difference between the Western and the traditional. However, apart from this substantial difference several other

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material and historical factors have worked to effect hybridization. The outstanding factor is the lack of a settled state tradition in many Arab states. Westernization included a wide range of changes in Jordan, Kuwait, and Iraq. In short, the former imperial spaces were turned into new national spaces. This process led to the emergence of many Western-like institutions, such as central bureaucracy, codified law, and a new economic model. These states entered the modern international system as sovereign members. Iraq attained its independence in 1932. Jordan became independent in 1948, and Kuwait in 1961. However, it should not be forgotten that all states under investigation had been peripheral lands of more complex administrative systems such as the Ottoman and the British empires. In the imperial moment, none of the states had its own central administrative machine. During the Ottoman era, all were dependent on the central Ottoman bureaucracy. The state tradition began after that. Therefore, the lack of an efficient state structure in each case can be explained also on historical grounds. The idea of central rule was a novel idea for each case in this study. The nucleus of Kuwaiti, Jordanian, and Iraqi governments developed as a peripheral provincial rule within the complex imperial systems of the Ottoman and the British empires. Another motor of hybridity is the absence of an evolved economic infrastructure. Westernization to a large extent was a bureaucratic and administrative project. Modern statehood was introduced in the region by the bureaucratic rules of foreign experts. The easiest part of state formation was the introduction of new rules to administer politics, society, and authority. Modernization was largely bureaucratic and administrative change. There was no parallel economic transformation. The provincial laws of the late twentieth century created new forms of authority in the Arab lands. However, such radical and quick transformations were not possible in economic fields. The modern administrative hat atop traditional economic patterns sat as awkwardly as a scarecrow’s. The gap between the domestic market and the national territory has always been great. Hybrid sovereigns operate as modern city-states by excluding the large masses in the periphery. The transformation of the economic infrastructure did not match the administrative level of Westernization. The traditional modes of economic interactions still survive in the Middle East. Thus, colonially injected formats were hybridized through traditional economic infrastructures. Economic weakness has always nourished traditional society. The poverty of states also denied the possibility of a modern technical infrastructure and assisted hybridization. Statehood is, in a word, standardization. However, “state” is an abstract phenomenon and to standardize it needs certain means. The absence of roads, telecommunication, and tools, and even of vehicles, frustrated the mission of standardization. Once a state is restrained by a shortage of material means, groups such as tribes find adequate space for traditional lifestyles. In the absence of nation-wide standardization, a central and efficient government cannot be realized.

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The hybrid-sovereignty approach focuses on sovereignty crises because they are the visible products of the encounter between the modern and the traditional. Although they are traumatic situations, they portray the hybrid nature of Arab politics as faithfully as a snapshot. A view of the Jordanian government deploying a tailor-made policy toward the Islamists is a perfect “still,” a caught-in-the-act agent of the hybridization of Jordanian politics. The exclusion of the bidun from Kuwaiti citizenship is another such “still.” The hybrid-sovereignty approach is a methodological instrument that aims to give a realistic picture of the operational logic of Arab politics. Thus, like other methodological instruments, its aim is to present a picture of the subjects under investigation. Hybridity, not based on a political agenda or will, is the natural outcome of the mixture of the modern and the traditional. Because hybridity refers to the existence of dual sources of loyalties in the same community, hybrid sovereigns are more prone to tension and problems. Tension between the modern and the traditional triggers problems easily. Hybrid sovereignty is not proposed as a therapeutic model but as a diagnostic one. Hybrid sovereigns are on very fragile ground: Iraqi statehood is already in deep crisis. The other hybrid sovereigns have complex problems. Several significant threats may challenge stability in Kuwait and Jordan. Kuwait especially is looking like a fast train that needs to pick up speed lest it come to a sudden halt. But in terms of citizenship, Kuwait stands as potentially the most able state. It should be remembered here that Kuwait has the oldest parliamentary tradition in the Gulf. If Kuwait does succeed in guaranteeing the basic rights of expatriates and strengthening citizenship, it may emerge as the stable state of the region. However, there are some natural limits to this optimistic scenario: First, it is not clear to what extent the ruling monarch, and the traditional tribes and families with historical links to the ruling family, will tolerate the democratization process. There is no space for being optimistic about the Kuwaiti ruling family’s acquiescence to a constitutional monarchy tempered by a strong parliament. The regional conflicts reduce the scope for optimism. In contrast, Jordan’s constituency-based structure is expected to remain unchanged. The hybrid bargain between the state and many other groups, such as the Palestinians, the Islamists, and the loyalists, is predicted to retain its central position. No optimistic projections come easily about the role of the state in the economy. In each case, the state wants to keep its centralist role in the economy. What may change this traditional stance is challenge from the global economic system. Several new phenomena, notably foreign investment, may force the ruling elite into a mood for liberal transformation. However, in general, the trends in each case are not in favor of a change that might end the bureaucratic nature of economic structures. And the role of oil should not be ignored here. The central role of oil money necessitates the dominant role of the state bureaucracy. The rentier model works as a guarantee for the survival of political regimes in several Arab states.

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In terms of an efficient central rule, Iraq’s is the worst case. In normal conditions, Kuwait and Jordan may seem strong enough to survive the current power structures. Compared with Kuwait, Jordan still has its traditional handicaps. However, both states are vulnerable to any externally originated regional trend. As the events of 1990 showed, Kuwait is extremely vulnerable to extra-national events. Jordan’s fragility is in the historical Palestinian problem. Each state should keep a weather eye on external threats, and keep up its vigilance in the long run. That they are aware of this is evident in these states’ encouragement of the diplomatic process that seeks peace even with Israel. Kuwait and Jordan particularly do not want further escalations of tension in the region. Had this book been written before Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait, Iraq might have been presented as a relatively stable hybrid sovereign. However, domestic crises occurred even in pre-1990 Iraq: Saddamist tribalism, the persecution of the Shi’a and Kurds, and the lack of an impersonal bureaucratic rule. But, recent developments worsen the hybrid bargain in Iraq. In sharp contrast with the former bargain between the modern and the traditional that was in place in pre-invasion Iraq, there is now a collapsed sovereignty. The traditional patterns are all active in Iraq, but there is no government structure capable of accommodating them. Unlike the agent-oriented approach to analysis, the hybrid-sovereignty approach rejects all labeling of Arab politics as “failed.” However, hybrid sovereigns have homework to do: They need to transform their societies. Without such transformation, the colonially brought model will remain only a formal appearance. Transformation should espouse the indigenous roots of politics. When the implementation of a foreign model fails, the actors should look for alternatives in native methods. Middle Eastern societies have a historically rich civilization. In the past, they had managed to create various samples of stability and prosperity. Hybrid sovereignty does not reject the positive aspects of the Western model. It has had shining successes in several areas. However, the Western model was restrained by traditional patterns: it could not be implemented in toto, nor could it exclude the traditional forms. Evidence of the restraint of Westernization should point to the need for alternative approaches. In any case, the recent rise of anti-Western sentiment has reduced the appeal of Western methods in the region. A functional link to connect contemporary Middle Eastern people and their roots and should be identified. Given the problems of the region, one should not undervalue the potential of local traditions. Tradition itself may yield new cures for the problems that tribalism and the too-ready resort to violence have posed. To say this is not to indulge in a typical anti-Western rant; it is to identify a need: the need for structural transformation. It was argued in this work that the Arab state is neither modern nor traditional. Instead, it is a hybrid sovereign: a product of an encounter in the colonial past. But hybridity is not defended here on the ground that the Western model is deficient. Indeed, no foreign model could have achieved a

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flawless implementation. Statehood entails complex boundaries between state and people. The replacement of old patterns is hardly possible, and the complexity of those boundaries in the Arab lands simply could not be injected into the Western model. Hybridity was inevitable. Thus, all students of the Middle East are confronted with the urgent question: How might activation of traditional roots contribute to the emergence of efficient statehoods and stable societies in the region?

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No t e s

Introduction 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34.

Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 2. Hudson, Arab Politics: The Search for Legitimacy, p. 394. Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 3. Gause III, “The Foreign Policy of Saudi Arabia,” p. 443. Ibid. Zubaida, Islam, the People and the State, p. 121. Ayoob, “Unraveling ‘National Security’ in the Third World,” p. 49. Jackson, Quasi-States, p. 1. Ayoob, “Unraveling ‘National Security’ in the Third World,” p. 49. Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 3. Harik, “The Origins of the Arab State System,” pp. 5–6. Yurdusev, International Relations and the Philosophy of History, p. 148. Choueiri, Arab Nationalism, p. 2. Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 3. Ibid. Ibid., pp. 2–3. Korany et al., “The Analysis of National Security in the Arab Context,” p. 13. Clapham, Africa and the International System, p. 267. Tibi, Conflict and War in the Middle East, p. 13. Issawi, “The Bases of Arab Unity,” p. 47. Hinnebusch, “The Middle East Regional System,” p. 31. Mayall, “Sovereignty, Nationalism, and Self-determination,” p. 499. Little, “Explaining Large-Scale Historical Change,” pp. 89–112. Wendt, “The Agent-Structure Problem in International Relations Theory,” p. 338. Yin, Case Study Research, pp. 17–18. Stake, The Art of Case Study Research, pp. 4–5. Eckstein, Regarding Politics, p. 146. Stake, The Art of Case Study Research, p. 4. Yin, Applications of Case Study Research, p. 3. Stake, The Art of Case Study Research, p. 9. Eckstein, Regarding Politics, p. 157. Brand, Jordan’s Inter-Arab Relations, p. 277. Lynch, State Interests and Public Spheres, p. 6. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” p. 91.

222

No t e s

Chapter 1

The Theoretical Framework

1. Gong, The Standard of “Civilization” in International Society, p. 8. Krasner, Sovereignty Organized Hypocrisy, p. 25. 2. Mbembe, “At the Edge of the World,” p. 283. 3. Tibi, Conflict and War in the Middle East, p. 11. 4. Murphy, “The Sovereign State System as Political-Territorial Ideal,” p. 82. 5. See De Mesquita, “Popes, Kings and Endogenous Institutions,” pp. 93–118. Loy, “The Spiritual Origins of the West,” p. 220. Osiander, “Sovereignty, International Relations, and the Westphalian Myth,” p. 251. Teschke, The Myth of 1648, pp. 1–8 and 215–230. 6. Tilly, “Introduction,” p. 45. 7. Held, “The Development of the Modern State,” p. 86. 8. Philpott, “Westphalia, Authority, and International Society,” p. 567. 9. Kratochwill, “Of Systems, Boundaries, and Territorially,” p. 27. 10. Strang, “Contested Sovereignty,” p. 22. 11. The formula “admission ticket” belongs to Clapham. 12. Onuf, “Intervention for the Common Good,” p. 49. 13. Thomson, “State Sovereignty in International Relations,” p. 227. Also see Newman, “Boundaries, Borders, and Barriers,” pp. 137–151. 14. Malanczuk, Modern Introduction to International Law, p. 253. 15. McCorquodale and Pangalangan, “Pushing Back the Limitations of Territorial Boundaries,” p. 869. 16. Bartelson, A Genealogy of Sovereignty, p. 30. 17. Ibid., pp. 88–89. Ruggie, “Territoriality and Beyond,” p. 151. 18. Gilpin, War and Change in World Politics, p. 37. On the importance of territory in international relations see Goetz and Diehl, Territorial Change and International Conflict, pp. 15–21. 19. Krasner, “Compromising Westphalia,” pp. 115–116. 20. Agnew cited in Smith, “Globalization and the Governance of Space,” p. 204. 21. Jackson and Zacher, The Territorial Covenant, p. 2. 22. Smith, “Globalization and the Governance of Space,” p. 204. 23. Cited in Murphy, “The Sovereign State System as Political-Territorial Ideal,” p. 107. 24. Devetak and Higgott, “Justice Unbound?” p. 486. 25. Bobbio, Democracy and Dictatorship, pp. 61–62. 26. Held, “The Development of the Modern State,” p. 78. 27. Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State, p. 17. 28. Migdal, State in Society, p. 79. 29. Smith, National Identity, pp. 14–15. 30. Weber, Economy and Society, p. 54. 31. Dreitzel, “Reason of State and the Crisis of Political Aristotelianism,” p. 172. 32. Hobson, The State and International Relations, pp. 4–12. 33. Dewey, “Austin’s Theory of Sovereignty,” p. 36. 34. Inayatullah, “Beyond the Sovereignty Dilemma,” p. 50. 35. Poggi, The State, p. 20. 36. Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics, p. 199. 37. Schecter, Sovereign States or Political Communities? p. 38. 38. Migdal, State in Society, pp. 14–21. 39. Weil, “Access to Citizenship,” p. 18.

No t e s 40. 41. 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81.

82.

223

Damaska, The Faces of Justice and State Authority, p. 18. Bodin, On Sovereignty, p. 23. Hoffman, “A Conceptualization of Trust in International Relations,” p. 394. Gerth and Wright, From Max Weber, p. 78. Friedrichs, “The Meaning of New Medievalism,” p. 475. Griffith, Fifty Key Thinkers in International Relations, p. 46. Jackson, “Sovereignty in World Politics,” p. 442. Strang, “Contested Sovereignty,” p. 31. Clapham, Africa and the International System, p. 31. McCorquodale and Pangalangan, “Pushing Back the Limitations of Territorial Boundaries,” pp. 873–874. Gong, The Standard of “Civilization” in International Society, p. 4. Ibid., p. 15. Jackson, “Sovereignty in World Politics,” p. 443. Philpott, “Westphalia, Authority, and International Society,” p. 583. Muzaffari, “The Transformationalist Perspective,” p. 251. Charles, “Colonial Discourse since Christopher Columbus,” p. 135. Gong, The Standard of “Civilization” in International Society, p. 10. El-Ghonemy, Affluence and Poverty in the Middle East, p. 29. Ortaylı, I˙mparatorlu˘gun En Uzun Yüzyılı, p. 9. Doumani, “Rediscovering Ottoman Palestine,” pp. 31–32. Fortna, Imperial Classroom, p. 2. Mardin, The Genesis of Young Ottoman Thought, p. 3. Findlay, Bureaucratic Reform in the Ottoman Empire, p. 280. Rogan, “Bringing the State Back,” p. 35. Owen, The Middle East in the World Economy 1800–1914, p. 38. Also Rogan, Frontiers of the State in the Late Ottoman Empire, p. 161. Denoeux, Urban Unrest in the Middle East, p. 36. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 9. Van Der, Imperial Encounters, p. 6. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 9. Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa.” Khoury, Syria and the French Mandate, p. 3. Monroe, Britain’s Moment in the Middle East, p. 11. Bonne, State and Economics in the Middle East, p. 3. Bromley, Rethinking Middle East Politics, p. 70. Walker, “Boundaries in the Middle East,” pp. 61, 71. Ayoob, “Unraveling ‘National Security’ in the Third World,” p. 34. Findlay, The Arab World, pp. 2–3. Lewis, “Watan,” p. 524. Owen, State, Power & Politics, pp. 11–23. Owen, The Middle East in the World Economy 1800–1914, p. 13. Anderson, “Absolutism and the Resilience of Monarchy in the Middle East,” pp. 1–15. Amadouny, “Infrastructural Development under the British Mandate,” p. 161. Amawi, “The Consolidation of the Merchant Class,” pp. 162–163. Anderson, The State and Social Transformation in Tunisia and Libya, p. 42. Kütüko˘glu, Osmanlılarda Narh Müessesi ve 1640 Tarihli Narh Defteri, pp. 3, 6. ˙ ˙ Çetin, “Osmanlı Imparatorlu˘ gu’nda Bir Iktisat Politikası Olarak Müdahalecilik,” p. 159. Pamuk, A Monetary History of the Ottoman Empire, p. 13.

224

No t e s

83. Ibid., p. 17. 84. Özbudun, “The Ottoman Legacy and the Middle East State Tradition,” pp. 172–173. 85. Wallerstein, The Capitalist World-Economy, p. 66. 86. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 100. 87. Migdal, Strong Societies and Weak States, pp. 52–53. 88. El-Ghonemy, Affluence and Poverty in the Middle East, p. 29. 89. McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Empire, p. 49. Yapp, The Making of the Modern Near East, pp. 20 and 143. 90. McGowan, Economic Life in Ottoman Empire, p. 51. 91. Ibid., p. 49. 92. Divitçio˘glu, Asya Üretim Tarzı ve Osmanlı Toplumu, p. 45. 93. Pamuk, A Monetary History of the Ottoman Empire, p. 10. 94. Ibid., pp. 88, 100–110, 173, 222, 229. ˙ ˙ 95. Islamo˘ glu-Inan, The State and Peasant in the Ottoman Empire, p. 61. 96. Fischbach, “British Land Policy in Transjordan,” pp. 8, 80–83, 105, and 211. 97. Fischbach cited in Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 34. 98. Clapham, “Sovereignty and the Third World State,” pp. 522–537 99. Jackson, Quasi-States, p.21. 100. Pegg, De Facto States in the International System, p. 1. 101. Sorensen, “Sovereignty,” p. 598. 102. Smith, National Identity, pp. 205–207. 103. Weber, Simulating Sovereignty, p. 30. 104. Kratochwil, “The Politics of Place and Origin,” p. 155. 105. Fowler and Bunck, Law, Power, and the Sovereign State, p. 6. 106. Oksenberg, “The Issue of Sovereignty in the Asian Historical Context,” p. 85. 107. Foucault, Power/Knowledge, p. 131. 108. Foucault, Discipline and Punish, p. 194 109. Hall, “The West and the Rest: Discourse and Power,” p. 291. 110. Bartelson, A Genealogy of Sovereignty, p. 133. 111. Jackson, “Sovereignty in World Politics,” p. 432. 112. Foucault, Power/Knowledge, p. 131. Edkins, Poststructuralism & International Relations, p. 3. 113. Foucault, Power/Knowledge, pp. 27–28. 114. Ibid., p. 27. 115. Bartelson, A Genealogy of Sovereignty, p. 131. 116. Norval, “Hybridization,” 104. 117. Ibid., pp. 104–105. 118. Lee, Overcoming Tradition and Modernity, p. 16. 119. Ibid. 120. Darby, The Fiction of Imperialism, p. 222. 121. Ibid., p. 223. 122. Bhabba, The Location of Culture, p. 114. 123. Mayall, “Sovereignty, Nationalism, and Self-determination,” p. 499. 124. Sidaway, “Sovereign Excess?” p. 160. 125. Ibid. 126. Sharabi, “The Scholarly Point of View,” pp. 10–12. 127. Lerner, The Passing of Traditional Society, pp. 46–48. 128. Krasner, “Compromising Westphalia,” pp. 11–25.

No t e s

225

129. Bartelson, A Genealogy of Sovereignty, p. 28; Morgenthau, Politics among Nations, pp. 315, 320. Fowler and Bunck, Law, Power, and the Sovereign State, p. 68. See Mayall, “Sovereignty, Nationalism, and Self-determination,” p. 475. Doty, “Sovereignty and Nation,” p. 143. Wendt and Friedheim, “Hierarchy under Anarchy,” p. 247. Laski, A Grammar of Politics, p. 46. Jackson, “QuasiStates, Dual Regimes, and Neoclassical Theory,” p. 519. 130. Tibi, Conflict and War in the Middle East, p. 13. 131. Hinnebusch, “The Middle East Regional System,” p. 31. 132. Issawi, “The Bases of Arab Unity,” p. 47. 133. Haynes, “Power in Ghana,” pp. 312–321. 134. Korany et al., “The Analysis of National Security in the Arab Context,” p. 13. 135. Clapham, Africa and the International System, p. 267. 136. Zahlan, The Creation of Qatar, p. 136. 137. Glaser and Halliday, “Ideology in Organizations,” p. 102. 138. Hudson, Arab Politics, p. 232. 139. Korany et al., “The Analysis of National Security in the Arab Context,” p. 12. 140. Doumani, “Rediscovering Ottoman Palestine,” p. 31. 141. Hudson, Arab Politics, p. 231. 142. Vaitkiotis, “Dilemmas of Political Leadership in the Arab Middle East,” p. 103. 143. Barakat, The Arab World, pp. 149–170. 144. Sharabi, Governments and Politics of the Middle East, p. 5. 145. Sharabi, Neopatriarchy, p. 3. 146. Ibid., p. 4. 147. Ibid., p. 21. 148. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, pp. 86–87. Kuran, “The Vulnerability of the Arab State,” pp. 112–113. 149. Ibid., p. 86. 150. Hudson, Arab Politics, pp. 2–30, 56–84, 103–165, 207–232, and 392–394. 151. Ibid., p. 11. 152. Ibid., p. 104. 153. Korany, “Alien and Besieged Yet Here to Stay,” p. 55. 154. Ibid., pp. 48–52 155. Ibid., p. 49. 156. Ibid., p. 72. 157. Bromley, Rethinking Middle East Politics, p. 80. 158. Gause III, “The Foreign Policy of Saudi Arabia,” p. 444. 159. Ma’oz, “Middle Eastern Minorities,” p. 219. 160. Ibid., pp. 26–31. 161. Barnett, “Sovereignty, Nationalism, and Regional Order in the Arab State System,” p. 172. 162. Nicholson, Causes and Consequences in International Relations, p. 136. Wendt, Social Theory of International Politics, pp. 79–88. Goetz, Contexts of International Politics, pp. 16 and 26. 163. Hudson, Arab Politics, p. 165. 164. Hinnebusch, “Introduction: The Analytical Framework,” p. 8. 165. Krasner, “Compromising Westphalia,” pp. 11–25. 166. Baroudi, “Sectarianism and Business Associations in Postwar Lebanon,” p. 81.

226 167. 168. 169. 170.

171. 172. 173. 174. 175. 176. 177. 178. 179. 180. 181. 182. 183. 184. 185. 186. 187.

188. 189. 190. 191. 192. 193. 194. 195. 196. 197. 198. 199. 200. 201. 202.

No t e s Johnson, “Popular Movements and Primordial Loyalties in Beirut,” p. 178. Shafir, The Citizenship Debates, p. 18. Kedourie, “The Nation-State in the Middle East,” pp. 1–9. Hanley, “Dr. Rasha Al-Sabah On Women’s Rights in Kuwait,” p. 77. Tetreault, “Civil Society in Kuwait,” pp. 281–286. Pelham, “Jordan Queen’s Decree Stirs Tempest over Citizenship Rights.” Faqir, “Interfamily Femicide in Defense of Honor,” pp. 65–72. Joseph, “Gender and Citizenship in the Arab World,” pp. 11, 23, 24. Also see Moghadam, Gender and National Identity, pp. 1–12. Steans and Pettiford, International Relations, pp. 28–29. Viotti and Kauppi, International Relations Theory, p. 6. Ayoob, “Unraveling ‘National Security’ in the Third World,” p. 31. Hinnebusch, “Introduction: The Analytical Framework,” p. 7. Korany et al., “The Analysis of National Security in the Arab Context,” p. 27. Ibid., p. 11. Luciani, “Allocation vs. Production States,” p. 69. Beblawi and Luciani, “Introduction,” p. 10. Beblawi, “The Rentier State in the Arab World,” pp. 51–52. Hill, “The Immiseration of the Landlords,” p. 481. Beblawi and Luciani, “Introduction,” p. 10. Ibid., p. 11. Ehtashami and Hinnebusch, Syria and Iran, p. 18. Chatelus, “Policies for Development,” p. 118. Also see Murphy et al., “Why Is Rent-Seeking So Costly to Growth?” pp. 409–411. Zafirovski, “Economic Distribution as a Social Process,” p. 423. Also see Choudhury, “Markets as a System of Social Contracts,” pp. 17–36. Abdel-Fadil, “The Macro-Behaviour of Oil-Rentier States in the Arab Region,” p. 83. Beblawi, “The Rentier State in the Arab World,” p. 53. Ibid., pp. 52–53. See Skidmore, “Civil Society, Social Capital and Economic Development,” p. 60. Also see Mohtadi and Roe, “Democracy, Rent Seeking, Public Spending and Growth,” pp. 445–466. Ross, “Does Oil Hinder Democracy?” p. 356. Beblawi, “The Rentier State in the Arab World,” pp. 53–56. Luciani, “Allocation vs. Production States,” p. 74. Chaudhry, “The Price of Wealth,” p. 103. Bates, Prosperity and Violence, p. 107. Luciani, “Resources, Revenues, and Authoritarianism in the Arab World,” p. 211. Moore, “Political Underdevelopment,” p. 4. Noreng, Oil and Islam, p. 2. Moore, Social Originis of Dictatorship and Democracy, p. 418. Chaudhry, “The Price of Wealth,” p. 3. Kamrava, “The Politics of Weak Control,” p. 43. Posusney, “Behind the Ballot Box,” p. 13. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State, p. 7 Khoury and Kostiner, “Introduction,” p. 2. Cited in Norton’s “Introduction” in Norton, Civil Society in the Middle East, p. 7. Ibid., p. 4. Hourani, “Conclusion,” p. 308.

No t e s

227

203. Ma’oz, “Middle Eastern Minorities,” p. 38. See Davies, “Ethnicity,” pp. 79–98. 204. Ibid., p. 4. Bates and Rassam, Peoples and Cultures of the Middle East, p. 190. 205. Bloom, Personal Identity, National Identity And International Relations, p. 55. 206. Anderson, The State and Social Transformation in Tunisia and Libya, p. 42. 207. Khoury and Kostiner, “Introduction,” p. 16. 208. Ayoob, “Unraveling ‘National Security’ in the Third World,” p. 33. 209. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 1. 210. Crystal, “Authoritarianism and Its Adversaries in the Arab World,” p. 227. 211. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 3. 212. Ibid., p. 6. 213. Carnoy, The State and Political Theory, p. 68. 214. Anderson, The State and Social Transformation in Tunisia and Libya, p. 8. 215. Poulantzas, Political Power and Social Classes, p. 178. 216. Clapham, “Sovereignty and the Third World State,” pp. 522 and 525. 217. Sorensen, “Sovereignty,” p. 601. 218. Inayatullah, “Beyond the Sovereignty Dilemma,” p. 50. 219. Weber, On Charisma and Institution Building, p. 54.

Chapter 2 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26.

Genesis of the Western Model in Kuwait, Jordan, and Iraq

Choueiri, Arab Nationalism, p. 2. Eugene L. Rogan, “Introduction,” p. 1. Makdisi, “Ottoman Orientalism,” pp. 768–796. Deringil, The Well-Protected Domains, p. 165. Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 2. Zahlan, The Making of The Modern Gulf States, p. xi. Anscombe, The Ottoman Gulf, p. 11. Assiri, Kuwait’s Foreign Policy, p. 3. Mansfield, A History of the Middle East, p. 121. Anscombe, The Ottoman Gulf, p. 75. Ibid., pp. 39–53. Ibid., p. 104. Alghanim, The Reign of Mubarak Al-Sabah Shaikh of Kuwait, p. 33. Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 39. Zahlan, The Creation of Qatar, p. 23. Melamid, “Political Geography of Trucial Oman and Qatar,” pp. 197–199. Luciani, “Allocation vs. Production States,” p. 66. Rabi, “Britain’s ‘Special Position’ in the Gulf,” pp. 351–364. Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 49. Ibid., pp. 53–54. Al-Yahya, Kuwait, p. 4. Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 15. Chisholm, The First Kuwait Oil Concession Agreement, p. 3. Monroe, “The Sheikdom of Kuwait,” p. 272. Sharabi, Governments and Politics of the Middle East, p. 258. Finnie, Shifting Lines in the Sand, p. 41.

228

No t e s

27. Ahmad, “A Note on the International Status of Kuwait before November 1914,” p. 185. 28. Dickson cited in Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 70, and Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 43. 29. Lauterpacht, The Kuwaiti Crisis, pp. 48–49. 30. Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 4. 31. Salih, “Kuwait,” pp. 46–47. 32. Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 36. 33. Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 73. 34. Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 58. 35. Brown, The Rule of Law in the Arab World, p. 130. 36. Neuberger, “National Self-Determination in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 48. 37. Rogan, “Bringing the State Back,” p. 32. 38. Amadouny, “Infrastructural Development under the British Mandate,” p. 134. 39. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 51. 40. Rogan, Frontiers of the State in the Late Ottoman Empire, p. 44. 41. Shaw and Shaw, History of the Ottoman Empire and Modern Turkey (Vol. II), pp. 46–47. 42. Rogan, “Bringing the State Back,” p. 57. 43. Ibid., p. 37. 44. Rogan, Frontiers of the State in the Late Ottoman Empire, p. 21. 45. Yapp, The Making of the Modern Near East, p. 36. 46. Owen, The Middle East in the World Economy 1800–1914, p. 10. 47. Ibid., p. 38. Also Rogan, Frontiers of the State in the Late Ottoman Empire, p. 161. 48. Rogan, “Bringing the State Back,” p. 38. 49. Ibid., p. 34. 50. Rogan, “Bringing the State Back,” p. 48. 51. Wåhlin, “How Long Has Land Been Privately Held in Northern al-Balga, Jordan?” p. 33. 52. Mundy, “Village Land and Individual Title,” p. 63. 53. Wåhlin, “Occurrence of Musha’ in Transjordan,” p. 375. 54. Rogan, “Bringing the State Back,” p. 50. 55. Karpat, The Politization of Islam, pp. 187–188. 56. Somel, The Modernization of Public Education in the Ottoman Empire, p. 12. 57. Hanio˘glu, “The Young Turks and the Arabs before the 1908 Revoultion,” p. 31. 58. Dawn, “The Origins of Arab Nationalism,” pp. 4–6. Also see Dawisha, Arab Nationalism in the Twentieth Century, pp. 14–48. 59. Catherwood, Churchill’s Folly, p. 130. 60. Tibawi, A Modern History of Syria, p. 209. 61. Ross, The Missing Peace, p. 31. 62. Sharabi, Governments and Politics of the Middle East, p. 181. 63. Shlaim, Collusion across the Jordan, p. 31. 64. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 27. 65. Susser, Jordan Case Study of a Pivotal State, p. 5. 66. Wilson, King Abdullah, Britain and the Making of Jordan, p. 3. 67. Kingston, “Breaking the Patterns of Mandate,” p. 187. 68. Ibid., p. 182.

No t e s

229

69. Vatikiotis, Politics and the Military in Jordan, p. 5. 70. Amadouny, “Infrastructural Development under the British Mandate,” p. 128. 71. Fischbach, “British Land Policy in Transjordan,” pp. 8, 80–83, 105, and 211. 72. Fischbach cited in Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 34. 73. Firestone, “Crop-Sharing Economics in Mandatory Palestine,” pp. 3–23. 74. Owen and Pamuk, A History of Middle East Economies in the Twentieth Century, p. 62. 75. Nowar, The History of the Hashemite Kingdom, Vol. I, pp. 58–59. 76. Gerber, The Social Origins of Modern Middle East, p. 159. 77. Bocco and Tell, “Pax Britannica in the Stepp,” p. 108. 78. Ibid., p. 120. 79. Tall, “The Politics of Rural Policy in East Jordan,” p. 92. 80. Bocco and Tell, “Pax Britannica in the Stepp,” p. 159. 81. Ibid., p. 163. 82. Kaufman, “Phoenicianism,” p. 173. 83. Massad, Colonial Effects, pp. 22 and 29. 84. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 8. 85. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 9. 86. Farouk-Sluglett and Sluglett, “The Transformation of Land Tenure and Rural Social Structure in Central and Southern Iraq,” p. 494. 87. Mar, Modern History of Iraq, pp. 6–7. 88. Herzog, “Corruption and Limits of the State in the Ottoman Province of Baghdad during the Tanzimat,” p. 36. 89. Mansfield, A History of the Middle East, p. 120. 90. Pamuk, The Ottoman Empire and European Capitalism, p. 87. 91. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 16. 92. Haj, The Making of Iraq, p. 42. 93. Tripp, A History of Iraq, 17. 94. Davis, Memories of State, p. 50. 95. Dodge, Inventing Iraq, p. 1. 96. Hunt, Britain 1846–1919, pp. 192–193. 97. Mufti, Sovereign Creations, pp. 22–23. 98. Tripp, A History of Iraq, 31. 99. Catherwood, Churchill’s Folly, pp. 67–68. 100. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 44. 101. Haris, Iraq Its People Its Society Its Culture, p. 24. 102. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, p. 4. 103. Cleveland, A History of the Modern Middle East, p. 193. 104. Aburish, “Cruel Ancestry,” p. 68. 105. Sharabi, Governments and Politics of the Middle East, p. 154. Also cf. Anderson, “Absolutism and the Resilience of Monarchy in the Middle East,” pp. 1–15. 106. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 15. 107. Haider, “Land Problems in Iraq,” pp. 164 and 166. 108. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 53. 109. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 11. 110. Issawi, An Economic History of the Middle East and North Africa, p. 147. 111. Farouk-Sluglett and Sluglett, “The Transformation of Land Tenure and Rural Social Structure in Central and Southern Iraq,” p. 502.

230

No t e s

112. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, pp. 16–17. 113. Cleveland, A History of the Modern Middle East, p. 191. 114. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 4. 115. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 11. 116. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 30. 117. Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, p. 165. 118. Cleveland, A History of the Modern Middle East, p. 194. 119. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, p. 114. 120. Mufti, Sovereign Creations, p. 26. 121. Ibid., p. 28. 122. Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, pp. 152, 155. 123. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, p. 115. 124. Ibid., p. 114. 125. Dawisha, “Footprints in the Sand,” p. 121. 126. Quoted in Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, pp. 25–26. 127. Baram, “Neo-Tribalism in Iraq,” pp. 3–4. 128. Whittleton, “Oil and Iraqi Economy,” p. 58. 129. Eppel, “Syrian–Iraqi Relations during the 1948 Palestine War,” p. 79. 130. Dawisha, “Footprints in the Sand,” p. 128. 131. Gerth and Wright, From Max Weber, pp. 10–27. 132. Mohsen, “Cultural Totalitarianism,” p. 7. Also see al-Jaza’iri, “Ba’thist Ideology and Practice,” pp. 46–47. 133. Dawisha, “Identity and Political Survival in Saddam’s Iraq,” p. 553. 134. Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, p. 74. 135. Abdullah, “Saddam as Hero,” p. 56. 136. Yaphe, “Tribalism in Iraq,” p. 55. 137. Sharabi, Neopatriarchy, p. 4. 138. Burton and Higley, “The Elite Variable in Democratic Transitions and Breakdowns,” pp. 17–32. 139. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 79. 140. Tripp, “The Foreign Policy of Iraq,” p. 169. 141. Hashim, “Saddam Husayn and Civil-Military Relations in Iraq,” p. 12. 142. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, p. 123. 143. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 90. 144. Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, p. 171. 145. Al-Khafaji, “State Terror and the Degradation of Politics,” p. 20. 146. Tripp, “The Foreign Policy of Iraq,” p. 167.

Chapter 3 Kuwait: A Nation in the Minority 1. Elias, “Kuwait Gives Women Vote, But with Limits,” May 17, 2005, http:// www.post-gazette.com/pg/05137/505504.stm. 2. Moore, “Rentier Fiscal Crisis and Regime Stability,” p. 34. 3. Nakhjavani, “Resources, Wealth and Security,” p. 185. 4. Salih, “Kuwait,” p. 46. 5. UNDP, Human Development Report 1994, p. 28. 6. Marber, “Sheiks and Souks,” p. 91.

No t e s

231

7. Neuberger, “National Self-Determination in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 48. 8. Ghabra, “Balancing State and Society,” p. 59. 9. Crystal, Oil and Politics in the Gulf, p. 73. 10. Anderson, “A Review of Recent Studies on Oil and State Formation in the Middle East,” p. 353. 11. Crystal, “Coalitions in Oil Monarchies,” p. 429. 12. Alnajjar, “The Challenges Facing Kuwaiti Democracy,” p. 243. 13. Winstone and Freeth, Kuwait: Prospect and Reality, p. 57. 14. Crystal, “Coalitions in Oil Monarchies,” p. 63. 15. Ibid., p. 64. 16. Horowitz, “Time Paths of Land Reform,” p. 1005. 17. Ibid., p. 73. 18. Peterson, “Succession in the States of the Gulf Cooperation Council,” p. 173. 19. Crystal, “Coalitions in Oil Monarchies,” p. 77. 20. Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 103. 21. Abdel-Fadil, “The Macro-Behaviour of Oil-Rentier States in the Arab Region,” p. 86. 22. Zahlan, The Making of the Modern Gulf States, p. 67. 23. Aarts, “Book Review,” p. 137. 24. Alnajjar, “The Challenges Facing Kuwaiti Democracy,” p. 243. 25. Cleveland, A History of the Modern Middle East, p. 392. 26. Al-Kazemi and Ali, “Managerial Problems in Kuwait,” p. 366. 27. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 306. 28. Figures 3.1 and 3.2 are adapted from Robinson, “Decentralization in Rentier States,” pp. 6–9. 29. Garaibeh, “Government Income Sources and the Development of the Taxation System,” p. 199. 30. Toye, “Fiscal Crisis and Fiscal Reform in Developing Countries,” pp. 35–36. 31. Al-Ayoub, “Kuwait Tax Deskbook,” p. 2. 32. This is formulated in Article 24 of the Kuwaiti Constitution: “Social justice shall be the basis of taxes and public imposts.” 33. National Bank of Kuwait, February 22, 2005. 34. El Shamy and Al-Qenae, “The Change in the Value-Relevance of Earnings and Book Values,” p. 156. 35. Hassan et al., “Stock Market Efficiency in the Gulf Cooperation Council Contries,” p. 7. 36. Tetreault, The Kuwait Petroleum Corporation, p. 79. 37. Beblawi, “The Rentier State in the Arab World,” p. 52. 38. Luciani, “Allocation vs. Production States,” p. 69. 39. Beblawi, “The Rentier State in the Arab World,” p. 50. 40. Abdel-Fadil, “The Macro-Behaviour of Oil-Rentier States in the Arab Region,” pp. 83–86. 41. Ghabra, “Balancing State and Society,” p. 59. 42. Schmitter, “Still the Century of Corporatism?” pp. 85–131. 43. Ghabra, “Voluntary Associations in Kuwait,” p. 204. 44. Celine, “Kuwait Living on Its Nerves,” p. 12. 45. Zahlan, The Making of The Modern Gulf States, p. 32. 46. Bahgat, “The Gulf Monarchies,” p. 156. 47. Zahlan, The Making of The Modern Gulf States, p. 24.

232 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79.

80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85. 86. 87.

No t e s Herb, “Democratization in the Arab World?” p. 43. Tetreault, “Kuwait’s Unhappy Anniversary,” p. 73. Brumberg, “Democratization in the Arab World?” p. 56. Chatelus, “Policies for Development,” p. 118. Harik, “Privatization,” pp. 6–7. Vandewalle, “The Middle East Peace Process and Regional Economic Integration,” p. 28. Pfeifer et al., “Reform or Reaction?” p. 15. Tetreault, “Autonomy, Necessity, and the Small State,” p. 565. See Joyce, “Preserving the Sheikhdom,” pp. 281–293. Tetreault, “Autonomy, Necessity, and the Small State,” p. 567. Gasiorowski cited in ibid., p. 566. Ibid., p. 579. Ahmed, “Kuwait Public Commercial Investment in Arab Countries,” pp. 293–295. “Kuwaiti Foreign Minister Interviewed,” May 2, 2004. Smith, “The Making of a Neo-Colony?” p. 159. “Kuwaiti Foreign Minister Interviewed,” May 2, 2004. “Kuwaiti Defense Minister on Iraqi Stand,” p. 4. “Kuwaiti Press Highlights,” December 11, 2003. For example, see “Jordan Prime Minister Hopes for Brotherly Iraqi-Kuwait Relations,” February 2, 2001. “Egypt’s Musa,” January 18, 2001. “Kuwaiti Information Minister Interviewed,”December 24, 2002, p. 6. Kaboudan, “Oil Revenue and Kuwait’s Economy,” p. 46. Tetreault and al-Mughni, “Gender, Citizenship and Nationalism in Kuwait,” p. 87. Alnajjar, “The Challenges Facing Kuwaiti Democracy,” p. 243. See Hanley, “Dr. Rasha Al-Sabah On Women’s Rights in Kuwait,” p. 77 and Tetreault, “Civil Society in Kuwait,” pp. 281–286. Joseph, “Gender and Citizenship in the Arab World,” p. 4. Ghabra, “Kuwait and the Dynamics of Socio-Economic Change,” pp. 358–359. Ibid., p. 359. Ali et al., “Kuwait,” pp. 43–45. Maktabi and Ostfold, “The Politics of Citizenship in Kuwait,”January 5–7, 2005. Ibid. Al-Ramadhan, “New Population Policy in Kuwait,” April 12, 2005. For example, according to Article 4 of citizenship law the number of naturalizations allowable in any given year is limited to fifty. Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 118. Russell and Al-Ramadhan, “Kuwait’s Migration Policy Since the Gulf Crisis,” p. 573. Al-Ramadhan, “New Population Policy in Kuwait,” April 12, 2005. Richards and Waterbury, A Political Economy of the Middle East State, p. 78. Crystal, “Coalitions in Oil Monarchies,” p. 79. Also see Seccombe, “Economic Recession and International Labor Migration in the Arab Gulf,” p. 46. Zahlan, The Making of The Modern Gulf States, p. 31. “Kuwait Population Hits 2.992m,” February 21, 2007. Zahlan, The Making of The Modern Gulf States, p. 35. Lawson, “Class and State in Kuwait,” p. 19.

No t e s

233

88. Longva, “Keeping Migrant Workers in Check,” p. 22. 89. Al-Enezi, “Kuwait’s Employment Policy,” pp. 885–900. 90. Russell and Al-Ramadhan, “Kuwait’s Migration Policy since the Gulf Crisis,” p. 570. 91. Maktabi and Ostfold, “The Politics of Citizenship in Kuwait,” January 5–7, 2005. 92. Crystal, “Coalitions in Oil Monarchies,” p. 80. 93. Birks et al., “Migrant Workers in the Arab Gulf,” p. 813. 94. Ismael, Kuwait Dependency and Class in a Rentier State, p. 125. 95. Abdel-Fadil, “The Macro-Behaviour of Oil-Rentier States in the Arab Region,” p. 91. 96. Darwish, “Kuwait,” p. 12. 97. Zahlan, The Making of The Modern Gulf States, p. 37. 98. Joyce, Kuwait, 1945–96, p. 125. 99. Ibid., p. 31. 100. The problem of Sunni political consciousness is still important in post-War (the Iraqi invasion) parliaments. Tetreault, “Designer Democracy in Kuwait,” pp. 37–38. 101. Crystal, “Coalitions in Oil Monarchies,” p. 103. 102. Bahgat, “The New Middle East,” pp. 148–149. 103. Ghabra, “Palestinians and Kuwaitis,” p. 328. 104. Yetiv, “Kuwait’s Democratic Experiment in its Broader International Context,” p. 258. 105. Miller, “Nowhere to Go,” p. 13. 106. Kramer, “Kuwait: Back to the Past,” p. 35. 107. Immigration and Naturalization Service Resource Information Center, Kuwait Human Rights after February 28, 1991, p. 7. 108. “After Saddam, Shiites in Kuwait Becoming Vocal about Rights,” March 12, 2004. 109. Russell, “Politics and Ideology in Migration Policy Formulation,” p. 28. 110. Tetreault and al-Mughni, “Gender, Citizenship and Nationalism in Kuwait,” p. 69. 111. Ghabra, “Balancing State and Society,” p. 364. 112. UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, “Concluding Observations of the Committee on the Rights of the Child: Kuwait,” October 9, 1998. 113. See Racial Discrimination and the Rights of Non-Citizens, Submission of the Open Society Justice Initiative to the UN Committee on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination on the occasion of its 64th Session, Open Society, 2004, pp. 8, 9. 114. Immigration and Naturalization Service Resource Information Center, Kuwait Human Rights after February 28, 1991, p. 13. 115. “Kuwait Minister Says Issue of ‘Stateless’ People Object of Significant Interest,” November 14, 2006. 116. Ghabra, “Balancing State and Society,” p. 58. 117. Yetiv, op cit., p. 261. 118. http://demo.sakhr.com/diwan/emain/Story_Of_Kuwait/Oil_Era/New_ era/newerahuman_philosophy.html. 119. Hedgen, “A Year Later, Kuwait Sinks into Malaise,” pp. 1, 6. 120. UN Reports of the Human Rights Committee, Vol. 1, pp. 65–71. Also see UN Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights Concludes Thirty-Second

234

121. 122. 123. 124.

No t e s Session, Issues Conclusions on Reports of Lithuania, Greece, Kuwait, Spain and Ecuador, May 14, 2004. “Kuwaiti Defense Minister on Iraqi Stand,” p. 4. “Major Constitutional Change in Kuwait,” p. 2. Bukonvansky, Legitimacy and Power Politics, p. 2. Baaklini, “Legislatures in the Gulf Area,” p. 362.

Chapter 4 Jordan: The Competition of Different Constituencies 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37.

Rintawi, “Analysis: Jordan, Hamas’ love-hate affair.” Frisch, “Fuzzy Nationalism,” p. 97. Lower, “House again Rejects Cancelling Article 340 of Penal Code.” Gil-Har, “Boundaries Delimitation,” p. 78. Shlaim, Collusion across the Jordan, p. 31. Cited in Susser, Jordan Case Study of a Pivotal State, p. 1. Dann, “The Hashemite Monarchy 1948–88,” p. 24. Anderson, “The State in the Middle East and North Africa,” p. 7. Evans et al., “On the Road toward a More Adequate Understanding of the State,” p. 351. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” p. 91. Ibid., p. 91. Tal, “Is Jordan Doomed?” p. 47. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” p. 93. Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein Jordan in Transition, p. 8. Kimmerling and Migdal, Palestinians, pp. 188–189. Deegan, “Democratization in the Middle East,” p. 20. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 224. Ibid., p. 229. Satloff, From Abdullah to Hussein Jordan in Transition, pp. 10–11. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 234. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” p. 93. Shafir, The Citizenship Debates, p. 2. Tal, “Is Jordan Doomed?” p. 46. “Gaza Palestinians to Receive 5-Year Passports,” pp. 1, 4. “Government Studying 5 Year Passports for Gazan Refugees.” Tal, “Is Jordan Doomed?” p. 48. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 114. “Tribal, Independent Candidates Win Most Parliament Seats.” See Pelham, “Jordan Queen’s Decree Stirs Tempest over Citizenship Rights,” p. 17. Faqir, “Interfamily Femicide in Defense of Honor,” pp. 65–72. Nanes, “Fighting Honor Crimes,” p. 125. “Jordanian Government Takes Precautionary Measures to Prevent Palestinian Influx,” p. 3. Wiktorowicz, “Islamists, the State, and Cooperation in Jordan,” p. 2. Ibid., p. 6. “Islamist to Head Jordan’s Engineer’s Association.” “IAF Criticizes Interrogation of Two Islamist Deputies.” “Islamist Students Stage Rally to Protest US Strikes at Afghanistan.”

No t e s

235

38. See Robinson, “Can Islamists Be Democrats? The Case of Jordan,” pp. 373–387. 39. Nanes, “Fighting Honor Crimes,” p. 125. 40. Lisa Taraki says that democratization processes, to a great extent, excludes Islamists on cultural issues. Taraki, “Jordanian Islamists and the Agenda for Women,” p. 141. 41. Sheikh, The New Politics of Islam, pp. 20–29. 42. Al-Khazendar, Jordan and the Palestine Question, p. 140. 43. Krasner, Sovereignty Organized Hypocrisy, pp. 11–25. 44. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” p. 94. 45. Cited in Barnett, “Sovereignty, Nationalism, and Regional Order in the Arab State System,” pp. 149–172. 46. Brand, “Palestinians and Jordanians,” p. 59. 47. Pappe, “Jordan between Hashemite and Palestinian Identity,” p. 72. 48. Dann, “The Hashemite Monarchy 1948–88,” pp. 20–21. 49. Ryan, Jordan in Transition, p. 9. 50. Khoury and Kostiner, “Introduction,” p. 2. 51. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modern State, p. 7 52. Massad, Colonial Effects, p. 240. 53. Ibid. 54. Ibid., p. 246. 55. Pappe, “Jordan between Hashemite and Palestinian Identity,” p. 85. 56. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” p. 98. 57. Ibid., p. 99. 58. Reiter, “The Palestinian-Transjordanian Rift,” pp. 73–93. 59. Shryock, “Dynastic Modernism and Its Contradictions,” p. 58. 60. Ibid., p. 63. 61. Ovendale, The Origins of the Arab–Israeli Wars, p. 257. 62. Fanek, “What Is More Important for the Palestinians?” 63. Ryan, Jordan in Transition, p. 9. 64. See Shiblak, “Residency Status and Civil Rights of Palestinian Refugees in Arab Countries,” pp. 42–45. 65. Sayigh, Palestinians, pp. 98–108. 66. Susser, “The Palestinians in Jordan,” pp. 93–94. 67. “PA Minister Views Palestinians’ Travel to Jordan, US Role, Syrian Ties,” p. 8. 68. “Jordanian Government Begins Enforcing Entry Restriction on Palestinians.” 69. “Israeli Closure Leaves Some 6,000 Palestinians as Stuck in Jordan.” 70. Al-Fanik, “How the Intifadh Is Impacting Jordan,” p. 18. Al-Fanik criticizes Intifadah also for harming Jordanian economy. 71. Krasner, Sovereignty Organized Hypocrisy, pp. 11–25. 72. “Report Vies Jordanian Deputy’s Statement on Unity.” 73. Reed, “Jordan and the Gulf Crisis,” p. 23. 74. Hevo and Pappe, “Introduction,” p. 10. 75. Shlaim, “The Debate about 1948,” pp. 183–186. 76. Brand, “Palestinians and Jordanians,” p. 51. 77. Wilson, “King Abdullah and Palestine,” pp. 37–41. 78. Susser, Jordan Case Study of a Pivotal State, p. 52. 79. Hevo and Pappe, “Introduction,” p. 10. 80. “Palestinians in Jordan March to Condemn Al-Rantisi Killing.”

236

No t e s

81. It is now commonplace to see Palestinians in Jordan protesting Israel. See “Palestinians in Jordan Demonstrate in Support of Return Right,” p. 1. 82. “Interior Minister on Israeli Palestinian Passport Measures.” 83. “Jordan Refuses to Take in 30 Palestinian Deportees from West Bank.” 84. United Nations General Assembly Resolution 194 (III). 85. “Israel, Palestine on Geneva Accord.” 86. “PA’s Abbas on Suicide Attacks, Elections, Arab Initiative, Ties with Jordan,” pp. 1, 23. 87. Azhar, “Phosphate Exports by Jordan,” p. 60. 88. Makdisi, “Economic Interdependence and National Sovereignty,” pp. 341–342. 89. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 367. 90. Ibid. 91. Ryan, Jordan in Transition, p. 48. 92. Feiler, “Jordan’s Economy, 1970–90,” pp. 55–56. 93. Al-Khazendar, Jordan and the Palestine Question, p. 17. 94. Brand, Jordan’s Inter-Arab Relations, p. 277 (chapter 8: “Budget Security and Its Broader Applicability”). 95. Michael R. Fischbach, “Book Review”; Brand, Jordan’s Inter Arab Relations, p. 277. 96. Salloukh, “State Strength, Permeability, and Foreign Policy Behavior,” p. 44. 97. Wilson, King Abdullah, Britain and the Making of Jordan, p. 3. 98. Brand, “Economic and Shifting Alliances,” p. 409. 99. Cunningham, “The Causes and Effects of Foreign Policy Decision Making,” p. 193. 100. Lynch, State Interests and Public Spheres, p. 231. 101. Cunningham, “The Causes and Effects of Foreign Policy Decision Making,” p. 195. 102. Ryan, Jordan in Transition, p. 82. 103. Ibid., p. 16. 104. Ryan, “Peace, Bread and Riots,” p. 55. 105. Ryan, Jordan in Transition, p, 52. 106. Ibid., p. 15. 107. Ibid., p. 110. 108. Greenwood, “Jordan’s ‘New Bargain,’” p. 249. 109. Ibid., p. 250. 110. Ministry of Foreign Affairs official homepage: http://www.mfa.gov.jo; Ministry of Planning and International Cooperation official homepage: www. mop.gov.jo. 111. Saban Center for Middle East Policy, “Jordan First? Internal Politics and the Approaching Iraq War.” 112. Farsoun and Port cited in Wiktorowicz, “The Limits of Democracy in the Middle East,” p. 607. 113. ICG, “The Challenge of Political Reform.” 114. Ibid., p. 17. 115. Ibid., p. 18. 116. Ryan, Jordan in Transition, p. 17. 117. Ibid., p. 34. 118. Krämer, “The Integration of the Integrists,” p. 219. 119. ICG, “The Challenge of Political Reform,” p. 2. 120. Ibid., p. 14.

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121. Ibid., p. 15. 122. Lynch, State Interests and Public Spheres, p. 5. 123. Ibid., p. 6. Also see Lynch, “Jordan’s Identity and Interests,” p. 56.

Chapter 5 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39. 40. 41.

Iraq: Statehood in Catastrophe

Cleveland, A History of the Modern Middle East, p. 195. Tate, “The New Sovereign Iraq.” “The Theatrical Play of the Transfer of Sovereignty in Iraq.” “Highlights: Iraqi Press 10 Feb 04.” The Coalition Provisional Authority. Kelidar, “A Quest for Identity?” p. 407. Vinogradov, “The 1920 Revolution in Iraq Reconsidered,” p. 123. Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, p. 215. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 21. Simon, “The Imposition of Nationalism on a Non-Nation State,” p. 129. Momen, An Introduction to Shi’i Islam, pp. 143–144. Fuccaro, “Communalism and the State in Iraq,” p. 9. Elliot, Independent Iraq, p. 7. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, pp. 8, 9, 13, and 24 (p. 18). Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, p. 120. Elliot, Independent Iraq, pp. 10–11. Lukitz, Iraq, pp. 25 and 30. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 21. Sluglett and Farouk-Sluglett, “Some Reflections on the Sunni/Shi’i Question in Iraq,” p. 79. Baram, “Neo-Tribalism in Iraq,” p. 1. Ibid., p. 4. Also see Baram, “Saddam Hussein,” pp. 9–21. Baram, “Neo-Tribalism in Iraq,” p. 4. Yaphe, “Tribalism in Iraq,” p. 55. Baram, “Neo-Tribalism in Iraq,” p. 13. Yaphe, “Tribalism in Iraq,” p. 56. Al Khafaji, “A Few Days After: State and Society in a Post-Saddam Iraq,” p. 81. Baram, “Saddam’s Power Structure,” p. 106. Ibid., p. 96. Jabar, “The Iraqi Army and Anti-Army,” p. 125. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 17. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, p. 116. Al-Shahristani, “Suppression and Survival of Iraqi Shi’is,” p. 135. Batatu, The Old Social Classes and the Revolutionary Movements of Iraq, p. 26. Nakash, The Shi’is of Iraq, p. 88. Nakash, “The Shi’ites and the Future of Iraq,” p. 18. Ayubi, Overstating the Arab State, p. 112. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, pp. 118 and 117. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 64. Zaher, “The Opposition,” p. 160. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 82. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 131.

238 42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49. 50. 51. 52. 53. 54. 55. 56. 57. 58. 59. 60. 61. 62. 63. 64. 65. 66. 67. 68. 69. 70. 71. 72. 73. 74. 75. 76. 77. 78. 79. 80. 81. 82. 83. 84. 85.

No t e s Sakai, “Modernity and Tradition in the Islamic Movements in Iraq,” p. 37. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 132. Ibid. Moshe Ma’oz, “Ethnic and Religious Conflicts in Iraq,” p. 182. Jabar, “Clerics, Tribes, Ideologues and Urban Dwellers in the South of Iraq,” p. 164. Al-Khalil, Republic of Fear, p. 19. Al Bayati, “Destruction of the Southern Marshes,” p. 141. Ma’oz, “Middle Eastern Minorities,” p. 181. Lukitz, Iraq, p. 91. Turan, “Sadr ve Irak’ın Gelece˘gi.” Al-Sharq al-Awsat, October 20, 2006. Atwan: “Iraq: Al-Qa’ida Nightmare Haunts Bush,” “FMA 7 Jun: Iraqi Shia Sermons 4 June.” “Head of Iraqi Governing Council Says Ayatollah al-Sistani’s Concerns Legitimate.” “Profile of Grand Ayatollah al-Mudarrisi and His Media Iraq.” “Autopsy of New Crisis in Iraq.” “Iraqi Government Agrees to Resignation of Minister from Sadr Group.” Aneja, “Fire of Hatred.” For example, different Shi’i groups differ about the use of violence in Iraq. “FMA 09 Apr: Shia, Sunni Media on Current Al-Sadr Violence.” O’Leary, “The Kurds of Iraq,” p. 17. The Treaty of Sevres. For the details see Ali, “The Kurds and the Lausanne Peace Negotiations,” pp. 521–522. Sluglett, “The Kurds,” p. 180. Simon, Iraq between the Two World Wars, p. 118. Ma’oz, “Middle Eastern Minorities,” p. 187. Sluglet, “The Kurds,” p. 188. Zaher, “Political Developments in Iraq 1963–1980,” p. 35. Sluglett, “The Kurds,” pp. 193–194. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 199. “Iraq and Kurdish Autonomy,” pp. 26–27. Gunter, “Kurdish Future in a Post-Saddam Iraq,” p. 10. “Iraq and Kurdish Autonomy,” p. 27. Ibid., p. 26. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 200. Bengio, “Nation Building in Multiethnic Societies,” p. 153. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 201. Carver, “Is Iraq/Kurdistan a State Such that It Can Be Said to Operate State Systems,” p. 65. Al-Khafaji, “The Destruction of Iraqi Kurdistan,” p. 35. O’Leary, “The Kurds of Iraq,” p. 18. Abd al-Jabbar, “Why the Intifada Failed,” p. 97. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 271. Ah-Din Kakai, “The Kurdish Parliament,” p. 119. Ibid., p. 129. Gunter, The Kurdish Predicament in Iraq, pp. 111–126. “Difficult Options Facing Iraq’s Kurds,” p. 19.

No t e s

239

86. “Iraq: Kurds Have Right to Expect Post of Either Iraqi President, Prime Minister.” 87. Gunter, The Kurdish Predicament in Iraq, p. 235. 88. “Iraq: Kurds Hold Meeting on Preparations to Merge Separate Administrations.” 89. “Iranian, Syrian Foreign Ministers Urge Independent, United Iraq.” 90. Blackwell, “A Desert Squall,” p. 124. 91. Simon, “The Imposition of Nationalism on a Non-Nation State,” p. 129. 92. Elliot, Independent Iraq, p. 163. 93. Cited in El Alaoui, “Where Do We Go from Here.” 94. Kurdistan Satellite TV, July 17, 2006 (Time 18:57). 95. Gunter, “The KDP–PUK Conflict in Northern Iraq,” p. 225. 96. Tripp, A History of Iraq, p. 271. 97. Malanczuk, “The Kurdish Crisis and Allied Intervention in the Aftermath of the Second Gulf War,” p. 124. 98. Ah-Din Kakai, “The Kurdish Parliament,” p. 118. 99. Stansfield, “The Kurdish Dilemma,” p. 131. 100. Al-Khafaji, “The Destruction of Iraqi Kurdistan,” p. 35. 101. Ibid., p. 37. 102. Carver, “Is Iraq/Kurdistan a State Such that It Can Be Said to Operate State Systems,” p. 70. 103. US Department of State, “Iraq Country Reports on Human Rights Practices.” 104. Hawlati, January 27, 2007. 105. “Iraq: Turcoman Front Voices Satisfaction with ISG Report.” 106. “Iraqi Kurdish Ministry Says Nobody to Be Forced to Leave Kirkuk.” 107. Kurdistan Satellite TV, July 17, 2006 (Time 18:57). 108. “Interview with Armenian Orthodox Bishop Avak Assadourian.” 109. Osnos and McMahon, “Iraq Election Teeters on Cultural Split.” 110. Turan, “Talabani ipleri geriyor.” 111. Aneja, “Fire of Hatred.” 112. Alnasrawi, “Iraq: Economic Sanctions and Consequences, 1990–2000,” p. 217. Cortright and Lopez, “Are Sanctions Just? The Problematic Case of Iraq,” pp. 735–737; Mueller and Mueller, “Sanctions of Mass Destruction,” pp. 43–43. 113. Ismael, “Social Policy in the Arab World,” p. 12. 114. Ismael, “Dismantling the Iraqi Social Fabric,” p. 334. Bennoune, “Sovereignty vs. Suffering?” p. 261. 115. Carver, “Is Iraq/Kurdistan a State Such that It Can Be Said to Operate State Systems,” p. 78. 116. Kubba, “Human Rights and Sovereignty,” p. 148. 117. “United Iraqi Alliance Says Those against Federalism Want Government to Fail.” 118. “Maysan’s Tribes Discuss Ways to Enhance National Reconciliation Project.” 119. Al-Quds al-Arabi, September 9, 2006. 120. Al-Nu’aymat, “Interview with Former Iraqi Prime Minister Iyad Allawi.” 121. “My Immunity Was Lifted on Sectarian Grounds.” 122. Abd-al-Hadi, “Throwing Dust in the Eyes.” 123. Abdallah, “Know This Self-Proclaimed Rambo.”

240

No t e s

124. Al-Mutlaq, “Iraqi Front for National Dialogue.” 125. Ibid. 126. “Iranian Commentary Says Selection of Iraqi Leaders Part of Plot To Sideline Shiites.” 127. “Iyad Allawi and the Iraqi Transitional Government.” 128. “IGC President Al-Yawir Views Political Process, Violence, Sovereignty in Iraq.” 129. Iraq—OSC Report, February 5, 2006. 130. Al-Nu’aymat, “Interview with Former Iraqi Prime Minister Iyad Allawi.” 131. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, December 3, 2006. 132. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, October 23, 2006. 133. Al-Yahya, “The Iraqi Shiites and the Right to Self-Determination.” 134. “Interview with Dr. Iyad Allawi.” 135. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, February 3, 2007. 136. Iraq OSC Report, November 7, 2006. 137. Al-Sabah al-Jadid, July 21, 2006. 138. “Vegetable Crisis Follows Fuel Crisis.” 139. Iraq OSC Report, November 7, 2006. 140. Karim, “Who Is Responsible for This Corruption and Theft?” 141. “New Initiative by Al-Sadr Office in Al-Taji.” 142. Iraq—OSC Report, November 16, 2006. 143. Abu Dhabi TV, November 14, 2005 (Time 10:45). 144. Abd-al-Hadi, “Throwing Dust in the Eyes. 145. Al-Dustur, August 27, 2006. 146. Fayyad, “Interview with Iyad Allawi.” 147. Fayyad, “Al-Sadr Deputy Baha al-A’raji to Al-Sharq al-Awsat.” 148. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, October 22, 2006. 149. “Interview with President Talabani.” 150. Kurdistan Satellite TV, December 9, 2006 (Time 15:37). 151. Fayyad, “Al-Sadr Deputy Baha al-A’raji to Al-Sharq al-Awsat.” 152. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, November 10, 2006. 153. OSC Report, October 25, 2006. 154. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, November 3, 2006. 155. Al-Nu’aymat, “Interview with Former Iraqi Prime Minister Iyad Allawi.” 156. Al-Sharq al-Awsat, February 3, 2007. 157. “Interview with President Talabani.” 158. Mufti, “The Building of the Iraqi State.” 159. “French Commentary Urges EU to Facilitate Iraq Sovereignty Transfer”; “Transfer of Sovereignty in Iraq a ‘sham’—Spanish Daily”; “Xinhua: Bush Says More Violence Possible in Iraq as Sovereignty Transfer Nears”; “Iran: ‘Most Pressing Issue’ for OIC Meeting in Istanbul Is Iraq’s Sovereignty,” p. 2. 160. Peck, “Book Review,” p. 175.

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UN Committee on the Rights of the Child, “Concluding Observations of the Committee on the Rights of the Child: Kuwait,” CRC/C/15/Add. 96, October 9, 1998, www.hri.ca. United Nations General Assembly Resolution 194 (III), December 11, 1948, http:// www.mideastweb.org/194.htm. US Department of State, “Iraq Country Reports on Human Rights Practices,” February 23, 2001, www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2000/nea/787.htm.

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I n de x

1958 Revolution, 94, 97, 99, 192 1967 War, 144, 145, 154

authoritarianism, 52, 54–6, 101, 110 Ayubi, Nazih, 28, 39, 54, 55, 149

Abd-al-Aziz al-Hakim, Grand Ayatollah, 189 Al-Mudarrisi, Grand Ayatollah, 190 Al-Shirazi, Grand Ayatollah, 190 Al-Yawer, Ghazi, 202, 204, 205 ’asabiyya, 53 Abdulhamid II, 74 Abdullah al-Sabah, 62 Abdullah I (King of Jordan), 75, 77, 81 Aden, 61, 85 Africa, 36, 61 agent, 8 Ajlun, 72 Aleppo, 24 Al-Zawra, 84 Amman, 79 Aqaba, 73, 76, 77 Arab Army, 76 Arab culture, 27, 40, 60 Arab Legion, 77, 78 Arab monarchies, 27, 40 Arab nationalism, 43, 75, 87, 91, 92, 100, 116, 117, 137, 154, 176, 184 Arab Revolt, 75, 86–7 Arab state, 1–14, 22, 25, 26–57 Arab-Israeli War, 128, 166 Arabization, 93, 96, 192–3, 196, 197, 202 Arazi Kanunnamesi, 24 Asiatic mode of production, 28 Assyrians, 91, 93, 100, 176, 178, 191, 201 Asyrian uprising, 178

Baghdad, 61, 82–6, 90–1, 99, 173–4, 176, 184, 186–7, 196, 200, 206–8 Baghdad Pact, 96, 144 Bahrain, 61, 64, 69 Balfour Declaration, 26 Barzani Masoud, 196, 199, 202, 207 Mustafa, 194 Basra, 61, 63, 66, 68, 86 province of, 119 Ba’th, 100, 101, 132, 181, 182, 187, 188, 193, 194, 195, 196, 197, 201, 204, 207 bedouins, 62, 69, 77 bidun, 13, 122–6, 133–6, 137, 138 Britain, 13, 25, 61, 63–78, 81, 82, 85, 86, 89, 101, 105, 119, 133, 148, 165, 173, 178, 192, 199, 200 Bodin, Jean, 20 boundaries, 19–21, 25, 26, 27, 39, 44, 67, 83 bourgeoisie, 39, 52, 53, 55, 98, 101, 116, 165 bureaucracy, 28, 29, 36, 37 bureaucratic rationality, 50–2 Bush, George W., 189 Cairo, 75, 87, 163 Cairo Conference, 76 capitalism, 29 capitalist mode of production, 28 capitulations, 15 Central Asia, 214 China, 64

268

I n de x

citizenship, 4, 6, 7, 8, 11, 13, 20, 42, 44, 45, 47–9, 51, 52, 53, 54, 90, 93, 104, 105, 108, 111, 141, 144–53, 159, 160, 164, 167, 168, 178, 189, 202, 212, 214 civil society, 51 civilization, 22 Clapham, Christopher, 31, 36 cliency, 106, 115–16, 119–20, 123, 129, 136, 139, 213 colonial movement, 25, 27 colonialism, 1, 6, 25, 26, 27, 31, 34, 35, 36, 37, 80 conscription, 82, 83, 89, 90, 100 co-optation, 91, 116, 183, 184, 185 Crystal, Jill, 54, 61, 66 Damascus, 24, 76 de-colonization, 31 Dobbs, Henry, 88 Dowson plan, 78–9 Egypt, 81, 82, 85, 96, 109, 117, 130, 148 electoral engineering, 52–3, 118, 169 elite disunity, 98 Eurocentricsm, 34 Europe, 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 15, 16, 18, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 33, 34, 36, 38, 39, 41, 49, 52, 55, 60, 64, 65, 81, 82, 107, 164, 165, 214 expansion of modern international system, 1, 7, 12, 21, 22, 27, 28, 29, 33, 47, 64, 102, 166, 212, 213 expatriates, 110, 117, 123–4, 125, 126–133 feudal, 2, 16, 18, 40, 45, 52, 73, 130, 181 formal level, 45, 48, 50, 56 Gaza, 145, 163 Glubb, Jon Bagot, 80 Gong, Gerrit, 22 guided liberalization, 118 Gulf Cooperation Council, 117, 120, 121 Gulf War, 4, 43, 122, 131, 135, 144, 164–7, 182

HAMAS, 141, 163 Harik, Iliya, 3, 40, 118 Hasa, 62 Hecaz, 77, 85 hegemony, 55 Hikmat Suleyman, 99 hisba, 28 homeland, 26 homo nationalis, 26, 81, 91 honor killing, 150, 152 Hudson, Michael, 37, 39, 40 humane imperialism, 80 Hussein, Saddam, 10, 96, 97, 101, 132, 162, 163, 179, 182, 187, 188, 189, 190, 191, 194, 195, 196, 198, 201, 202, 207 Hussein-McMahon correspondence, 26, 75 hybridity, 8, 14, 33, 35, 36, 37, 38, 41, 43, 45, 177, 179, 180, 183, 208, 211, 212, 213, 214, 215, 216, 217, 218, 219 political origins of, 56 hybrid bargain, 179, 180, 211, 212, 213, 217, 218 hybrid sovereignty approach, 6, 7–9, 34–6, 45, 180, 211, 212, 217, 218 hybrid sovereignty, 5, 6, 14, 15–23, 30–41, 43 hypothetico-deductive method, 3 intelligence, 101, 183, 192 international law, 16, 17 international society, 17, 21 international system, 16, 17 international system of states, 1 See modern international system Iran, 3, 25, 96, 99, 109, 117, 130, 163, 184, 187–8, 190, 192, 196, 199, 202 Iranian Revolution, 130, 131, 187 Iran-Iraq War, 182, 196 Iraq, 3, 10–11, 76, 77, 82–101, 173–209 Da’wa movement, 187 Land Law of 1858, 83 marsh Arabs, 187 nation building, 91–103 Popular Socialist Party, 186

I n de x Organic law of 1925, 87 Ottoman Iraq, 82–5 Pump owners’ law of 1928, 88 Sunni-Shia’ divide, 176–7, 183–8, 200, 202 the Kurdish problem, 191–202, 204, 206, 207, 208, 218 tribalism, 180–3 Vilayet Law of 1864, 83 Iraqi Communist Party, 194, 195 Islam, 2, 28, 40, 74, 87, 103, 121, 124, 125, 131, 158, 177, 183, 187, 207, 208 Islamism, 12, 95, 117, 131, 141, 148, 151–7, 159, 167, 169, 217 Israel, 131, 141, 144, 149, 150, 152, 153, 154–7, 160, 161, 162, 163, 168, 218 Istanbul, 62, 63, 65, 66, 67, 72, 73, 82, 83, 85, 86 Jabir, Salih, 185 Japan, 64, 70, 113 Jerusalem, 76 Jordan, 3, 10, 12, 30, 76, 77, bedouins, 79–82 bread riots, 10, 167 budget security, 12, 165, 171 crisis of citizenship, 147–51 fedayeen, 155–7 “Jordan first”, 143, 168–70, 214 National Assembly, 141, 151, 169 nation-building, 149, 158, 168–70 Organic Law of 1928, 82 Ottoman modernization, 71–5 Palestinian-Jordan cleave, 12, 143–7, 159–64 state-formation, 78–82 tribalism, 157–9 Jordan river, 74, 76, 149, 161 kafala system, 127 kaymakam, 62, 63 KDP, 194, 195, 196, 198, 201 Khomeini, Ayatolloh, 187 King Hussein (of Jordan), 149, 154, 155, 159, 162, 163, 166, 167 Kirkuk, 194–6, 202, 205

269

Kuwait, 3, 13, 61–70 nation building, 137–9 National Assembly, 70, 117 land reform Jordan 30, 73, 78–9, 84 Kuwait, 109 Iraq, 88 League of Nations, 76, 86, 200 legitimacy, 39–40, 56 Lerner, Daniel, 35 Libya, 85 Laurie, Brand, 165, 160 Lynch, March, 171 Ma’an, 73, 77 Majlis movement, 70–1, 107–9 Mamluk, 82 market, 27, 28, 51 Mehmed Reshid Pasha, 84 merchants, 13, 27, 28, 66, 68–71, 81, 87, 106, 107, 108–11, 114, 115, 117, 123, 124, 125, 127 mevkufchu, 29 Middle Ages, 16, 18, middle class, 100, 114, 116, 118 Midhat Pasha, 83–4 Migdal, Joel, 19, 29 military coup in Iraq, 96, 100 in Jordan, 156 millet system, 90 miri, 29, 62 modernity, 6, 37 modernization, 1, 12, 14, 22, 23–4, 34–5, 37–8, 39, 40–2, 60–2, 71–4, 80, 82, 97, 102, 139, 143, 203, 209, 216 modern state system, 1, 44, 49 See international system of states See modern international system Mosul, 86, 176, 178, 184, 195 Mubarak (sheikh of Kuwait), 63, 65, 69 Mufti, Adnan, 208 Muhammad Al-Sabah, 63 musha’, 30, 73–4, 78 Najd, 68 Namik Pasha, 84 Narh, 28

270

I n de x

Nasserism, 96, 130, 144, 154 nation-building, 2, 12, 13, 31, 47, 51, 53, 54, 56, 89, 90, 122, 137, 145 nation state, 27, 41, 50 See state Weberian definition of, 4 national front, 195 national identity, 9, 12, 46, 47, 49–50, 54, 77, 78, 92–5, 96, 97, 100, 125, 143, 164, 168, 174, 195, 203, 204, 213 national interest, 49–50, 144 naturalization, 49, 125, 129, 139, 145, 146, 163 neo-patriarchy, 39 Northern Iraq, 174, 177, 191, 192, 193, 194, 197, 202, 206

Persian Gulf, 66, 85, 86 PLO, 144, 154–8, 167 political culture, 39 power, 54–6 primordial patterns, 5, 8, 43, 44, 48, 57, 94, 95, 97, 98, 111, 148, 159, 175, 178, 180, 181, 209 property hood, 28 public sphere, 27, 50, 55, 56 PUK, 196, 198, 199, 201

oil, 13, 46, 51, 61–71, 104–22, 125, 126, 136, 139 operational level, 44, 48, 50 Oriental space, 26, 60 Ottomans classic Ottoman rule, 24 imperial bureaucracy, 23 Ottoman economic system, 28 Ottoman Empire, 11, 12, 24, 25, 28, 29, 41, 59, 62, 63, 66, 68, 75, 82, 85, 86, 89, 98, 105, 141, 175, 177 Ottoman land regime, 29, 30 Ottoman legacy, 23, 29 Ottoman modernization, 23, 24, 41, 60, 71–5 Ottoman orientalism, 60

San Remo Conference, 76 Sati’ al-Husri, 92–3 Saudi Arabia, 3, 77 Sharabi, Hisham, 38, 39, 40, 41, 97 Sharif Hussein, 76, 86–7 Shi’ism, 188–91 Sistani, the Grand Ayatollah, 189, 190, 202 social boundary, 19, 52, 55, 56 See state-society boundaries social contract, 12–13, 47, 51, 54, 69, 100, 105, 106, 111–15, 119, 123, 149, 164–8 Sovereignty, 1, 16–17, 18, 19–22, 31–6 Arab spheres of, 2 crisis of, 3, 4, 19, 20, 21, 37, 42–5, 45–57 definition of, 20 domestic, 46 hybrid model of, 2 hybrid, 5, 6, 14, 15–16, 30–6, 36–41, 43, 53 institutionalization of, 16, 20, 44 international aspects of, 4, 44 less, 2, 7 limited, 6, 16, 36, 43, 45, 46, 136, 142, 173, 202, 212 limits of Western, 9 limits of, 4 modern, 47 negative, 42

Palestine, 75, 76, 77, 86 Palestinians, 12, 81, 92, 119, 131, 132, 138, 142, 144, 153, 154, 157, 158–64, 168–70, 217–18 the problem of, 12, 120, 143–7, 154, 159–62, 218 Palestinian Authority, 160 Pan-Arabism See Arab nationalism Patrimonialism, 5 pearl, 61, 64, 70 periphery, 24, 25, 27, 47, 71–2, 79, 83, 216

Qatar, 36, 64 Queen Raina, 150 recognition, 1, 21, 42 Regie de Cadastre, 30 rentier state, 13, 50–2, 104–26, 136, 137, 139, 217

I n de x positive, 42, 54 quasi-, 2, 7, 8, 52 semi-, 2, 7, 8 symptoms of hybrid, 43 the injection of Western, 3, 32 violations of, 21, 50 Western conceptualization of, 6 Western type of, 2, 9, 11 Western, 1, 2, 3, 21 Westphalian, 43 ‘standard of civilization’, 22 state, 18–19 absolutist, 18 colonial, 27 modern, 18, 26, 27, 28, 45, 54, 56 quasi, 31 semi, 34 territorial, 41, 49 weak, 5 Weberian, 25, 56 state employment, 112, 126–8 state formation, 1, 2, 67 state-society boundaries, 4, 9, 17, 21, 22, 24, 31, 44, 55 state-society relations See state-society boundaries See social boundary statelets, 5 structure, 8 Souk-al-Manakh crisis, 114–15 substitution mechanism, 44–5, 47, 56, 101, 102, 103, 104, 106, 108, 142, 143, 177, 180, 181, 183, 184, 192, 197, 211, 212 Sudan, 85 Suez Canal, 75, 85 Sunni merchants, 66, 68, 69, 70 Susser, Asher, 12 Sykes-Picot Agreement, 26, 75, 76 Syria, 30, 42, 76, 77, 86, 92, 109, 130, 133, 142, 151, 154, 156, 165, 166, 184, 198, 199, 205 Greater, 142, 154 Talabani, Jalal, 196, 207, 208 Tanzimat, 23–2, 60, 62, 84 tapu, 83 taxation, 20, 25, 41, 42, 48, 50, 51, 52, 54, 62, 113–14

271

The Anglo-Kuwaiti Agreement, 68 The Anglo-Kuwaiti Maritime Truce, 65 The Gulf War, 43 The Gulf, 61, 63, 68 the inapplicability thesis, 3, 6, 11, 14, 15, 31, 44, 45, 49, 52, 54, 142, 209 The treaty of Westphalia, 16 The Trucial System, 63–7, 85 The Uqair Protocol, 68 Third World, 31, 35 Tibi, Bessam, 36 timar, 29 tradition, 6 traditional forms, 2, 5, 6, 7, 16, 25, 29, 30, 35, 36, 37, 38, 40, 45, 60, 67, 73, 102, 104, 178, 181, 218 traditional society, 8, 13, 33, 38, 216 Transjordan, 76, 77, 81 Treaty of London, 82 tribalism, 20, 44, 48, 53–4, 57, 94, 97, 101, 102, 104, 110, 115, 136, 143, 176 Turcoman, 176, 201 Turkey, 3, 25, 86, 174, 184, 198–9 unequal treaties, 15 United Arab Republic, 99, 193 United States of America, 10, 131, 152, 173, 174, 179, 189, 190, 198, 204 UN Security Council Resolution 194, 163 Resolution 687, 203 Resolution 688, 174, 197, 200, 201 Utbi merchants See merchants Vilayet Kanunannamesi, 24, 72 watan, 26 Weber, Max, 4, 5, 18–20, 25, 40, 54, 56, 60, 80, 96, 97, 106, 111, 112, 120, 122, 142, 143, 152, 170, 171, 180 West Bank, 144–6, 159, 163

272 Western standards, 41, 65 Westernization, 1, 3, 4, 23, 35, 44, 64 Westphalian design See Westphalian model Westphalian model, 2, 16, 36, 59 See Westphalian design injection of, 59–60 Wilson, Mary, 77

I n de x World War I, 26, 59, 75, 86, 87, 141, 198 World War II, 2 Yazidis, 90, 176–7 Yemen, 25 Young Turks, 74, 85 Zahlan, R. S., 36 Za’im, 72