Monishipouri, Human Rights in the Middle East, Part III, chapter 10
Chase, Routledge Handbook, Part II, chapters 18, 23, 25; and Part III, chapter 33
Jehane Noujaim (Links to an external site.), The Square (Worldview Entertainment, 2013)
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jehane_Noujaim
Questions:
Considering readings, has the human rights situation in the Middle East improved or deteriorated after the 2011 Arab Spring (and 2009 Green Movement in Iran)?
You will be submitting a brief written group report.
Reports must be 500-700 words in length and must include the following:
(2) Clear articulation of central themes.
(3) Connections between, and critical reflections on assigned course matieral.
(4) Reference to at least 4 examples that clearly illustrate the main observation/arguments that you have made.
(5) Please integrate course readings into written reports in a clear and coherent fashion and cite accordingly (preferably APA style). Reports must demonstrate engagement of assigned readings. This should include a minimum of TWO relevant references to assigned course readings for each question, cited accurately.
Human Rights in the
Middle East
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Human Rights in the
Middle East
Frameworks, Goals,
and Strategies
E d i t e d b y
M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
Contents
List of Tables vii
Acknowledgments viii
Introduction 1
Part I Introduction I: Problems with
the Current Frameworks 23
1 Framing the Human Rights Discourse: The Role
of Natural Localism and the Power of Paradigm 27
Lawrence Davidson
2 Islam and Human Rights: Ideals and Practices 41
Manochehr Dorraj
3 Human Rights through the Lens of
Islamic Legal Thought 57
Halim Rane
4 Islamophobia, Defamation of Religions,
and International Human Rights 73
Turan Kayaoğlu
Part II Introduction II: Common Goals and Case Studies 91
5 Human Rights and the Kurdish Question
in the Middle East 95
Nader Entessar
6 The Janus Nature of Human Rights in Iran:
Understanding Progress and Setbacks on Human
Rights Protections since the Revolution 111
Barbara Ann Rieffer-Flanagan
7 From Omission to Reluctant Recognition: Political
Parties’ Approach to Women’s Rights in Turkey 129
Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat
8 Minorities and Marginalized Communities in
the Middle East: The Case for Inclusion 153
Mahmood Monshipouri and Jonathon Whooley
9 Lessons from Movements for Rights Regarding
Sexual Orientation in the Arab World 171
Anthony Tirado Chase
Part III Introduction III: Strategies 189
10 A Prospect of Democratic Uprisings in the
Arab World 193
Bahey eldin Hassan
11 Counterterrorism, Nation- building, and
Human Rights in the Middle East: Complementary
or Competing Interests? 211
Mahmood Monshipouri and Shadi Mokhtari
12 Migrant Workers and Their Rights in
the United Arab Emirates 227
Mahmood Monshipouri and Ali Assareh
13 Health and Human Rights in Palestine:
The Siege and Invasion of Gaza and the Role of the
Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions Movement 245
Jess Ghannam
List of Contributors 263
Index 267
vi C o n t e n t s
Tables
4.1 Voting Patterns at the HRC and UNGA 78
7.1 The list of political parties and programs
included in the study 132
8.1 Selected minority groups 155
12.1 Population of the United Arab Emirates 230
13.1 PHCR summary of deaths and injuries in Gaza
during 23-day IOF offensive by province 250
Acknowledgments
This volume, which grew out of a conference on the Middle East and
Islamic Studies, held on the campus of San Francisco State University,
October 16–17, 2009, intends to enhance the global parameters of
human rights by illustrating ways in which the protections against
violence, torture, and discrimination, extrajudicial killings, as well as
freedom from hunger in the region—and for that matter, the rest of the
world—must be upheld in the name of human dignity, welfare, security,
and social justice.
Of particular relevance to this project is the question of whether a
commitment to the full range of human rights is even feasible given
the cultural diversity, unequal economic circumstances, and socio-
economic priorities of the expanding globalized world. It is equally
important to ascertain the appropriateness and desirability of applying
the international human rights framework in the Middle East. More-
over, we hope the debates offered in this volume will shed light on
the international human rights project originating from the Middle
Eastern countries by helping to defi ne political and human rights dis-
courses in a way that transcends traditional and conventional thinking.
Thus, in addition to inquiries about how international human rights
norms have shaped the consciousness and behavior of actors in the
region, we are interested in exploring the ways in which Muslim actors
themselves have potentially contributed to the promotion of interna-
tional human rights norms.
A culmination of many years of work on human rights in the Middle
East and North Africa, this book represents a joint effort by many schol-
ars from different disciplines—history, political science, international law,
religious studies, public health, and international relations—and various
parts of the world, including Australia, Egypt, Iran, Turkey, England,
the Palestine, and the United States. I owe a debt of gratitude to all
contributors to this volume who submitted several drafts of their proj-
ects and endured through the lengthy process of review. Special thanks
are also due to Jonathon Whooley and Ali Assareh whose assistance
was an equally valuable part of completing this volume. Some of the
most insightful remarks that we received were provided by anonymous
external reviewers. We gratefully acknowledge their invaluable assistance
and support at various stages of this book. Finally, we express our deep
gratitude to the Middle East and Islamic Studies Center of the San
Francisco State University that made it possible to bring about this
human rights workshop.
A c k n ow l e d g m e n t s ix
4I n t r o d u c t i o n
M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
There is unfortunately little prospect of eliminating all obstacles to
protecting human rights in the twenty- fi rst century. Applying universal
human rights standards across the globe is a diffi cult and daunting task.
Many problems and challenges lie ahead. One of the most formidable
tasks facing the international human rights community is to establish
whether a commitment to the full range of human rights is even feasible
given the cultural diversity, unequal economic circumstances, and socio-
economic priorities of the expanding globalized world. A related focus of
this volume will be on the extent to which the dynamics surrounding the
human rights challenges in the Middle East conform to or diverge from
such dynamics in other parts of the world. Since the protection of all
human rights requires perfection regardless of region, two sensible ques-
tions to ask regarding the Middle East are: (a) To what extent progress
or improvement can realistically be made on the status quo? and (b) To
what extent are the apparent or real features of such uniqueness a func-
tion of contemporary manifestations of Orientalism and Islamophobia?
Another line of inquiry we would like to pursue in this volume is
to ascertain the appropriateness and desirability of applying the inter-
national human rights framework in the Middle East. What does the
international human rights framework offer Middle Eastern countries?
In what ways does it foster local efforts to improve human rights in the
Middle East and in what ways does its baggage of imperialism, neoimperi-
alisms, power relations, and appropriations of human rights discourses by
governments pursuing their own geopolitical interests damage such local
and authentic efforts? This fi rst inquiry inherently leads to a second: Is an
Islamic social, political, and legal framework compatible with the notion of
human rights? In addressing these two main questions, we hope to take on
2 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
the task of examining the human rights project, proposing ways to apply
universal norms across diverse nations and cultures in the region.
Additionally, we hope the debates offered in this volume will highlight
potential contributions to the international human rights project origi-
nating from the Middle Eastern countries. Thus, in addition to inqui-
ries about how international human rights norms have impacted the
consciousness and behavior of actors in the region, we are interested in
learning about how Muslim actors—scholars, activists, lawyers, journal-
ists, cultural elite, and policymakers—have, and potentially can contribute
to the development of international human rights norms. There is a good
deal of discussion about the barriers of transcending the application of
Western human rights standards. They may have been Western in origin,
but they have been globally endorsed, which suggests that human rights
norms responded to dangers to human dignity found in all states and
regions. We need to engage such discussions in order to substantiate or
disprove the reasoning and rationale underlying it all.
Finally, given the state of contemporary international affairs, few discus-
sions of human rights in the Middle East can transpire without at least some
reference to the relationship between the Middle Eastern countries and the
West, particularly the United States, its policies, geopolitical considerations,
and human rights practices and discourses. We hope that contributors to
this volume will help to illuminate the complexities of this relationship and
the impact of its discourses and counterdiscourses on human rights, in a
way that transcends traditional and conventional scholarship.
There can be no doubt that the increasing global attention to legal
matters and human rights has fostered the idea of holding states to higher
moral and legal standards, causing more dissonance than consensus
among states on matters of interpretation and enforcement. With some
exceptions, states have nevertheless cooperated with the International
Criminal Tribunals for Rwanda and the former Yugoslavia, both of which
have issued powerful indictments against war criminals. The International
Criminal Court (ICC) has come closer to becoming an operational insti-
tution. This is evident by the way in which the ICC’s Prosecutor Luis
Moreno Ocampo has pushed for the arrest of Sudanese President Omar
Hassan al- Bashir, the most senior fi gure and the fi rst sitting head of state,
charged and pursued by the court. There are new developments in crimi-
nal justice and international criminal law. While many obstacles remain
en route to protecting human rights globally, it is important to continue
efforts aimed at doing so. Human rights continue to fi gure in high- level
foreign policy, as in the 2011 US- China summit. Similarly, human rights
continue to fi gure in many regional and national developments, as can be
seen in Ivory Coast, Honduras, and other cases.
These positive trends have marked a new era in defense of human
rights, but the larger question of transnational norms development
I n t r o d u c t i o n 3
and transsovereign law enforcement still remain unanswered. Several issues
typify practical and normative diffi culties facing states, including sovereignty,
military and humanitarian intervention, globalization, universal jurisdiction
(national courts can prosecute serious human rights violations committed
anywhere in the world), and international justice. It is in this context that we
turn to the Middle East as a region that has been resistant to the enforcement
of universal standards of human rights. It is imperative to explore the possi-
bilities for compatibility—or their absence—between universal human rights
norms and the tremendous diversity of cultural traditions, local and national
identities, as well as socioeconomic and political conditions. Without taking
into account the entire array of factors contributing to human rights viola-
tions or improvements, it is not possible to identify variables and policies that
affect human rights practices in the region. The Middle Eastern region has
no robust regional regime for real human rights protections, whereas some
other regions, such as Latin America and Europe, do.
This book represents a joint effort by many scholars from different
disciplines (history, political science, international law, religious studies,
psychiatry and health sciences, and international relations) and various
parts of the world (Australia, Egypt, Iran, Turkey, Palestine, England,
and the United States) to explore the contemporary roots of human
rights violations in the Middle East. The volume’s main focus is to pro-
vide a systematic analysis of looking beyond the abuses of human rights
in the Middle East with a view toward (1) problematizing traditional
doctrinal thinking and concepts in the region; (2) ascertaining histori-
cal roots of human rights abuses in the Middle East, and (3) developing
strategies for improving human rights conditions of the vast majority of
people more generally and those of minorities and marginal communities
more particularly. To constructively address and deal with human rights
conditions, we will fi rst attempt a thematic analysis to frame the debate
by measuring and mapping out the nature of human rights and dignity.
Here we will turn to the issues of group rights and localism that give
meaning and value to human existence, diversity of perspectives, limits
to the defamation of religion, and ways to reconcile Islam and the global
normative consensus on human rights. Our analysis will also examine the
diffi culties as well as challenges one encounters in privileging Islam as
either the savior of human rights or the main source of its violations.
In the second section, our focus will then shift to comparative his-
torical studies to demonstrate the underlying human rights abuses in
the region. In this section, we set out to examine the Kurdish question,
sexual orientation and gender identity, the case study of Iran in the post-
revolutionary period, and the extent to which women’s rights have been
incorporated into the programs of political parties in Turkey. These
studies will scrutinize the status and acceptance of human rights condi-
tions in the region. More broadly, this section attempts to illustrate that
4 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
Islam per se does not determine developments; that women’s rights and
political rights, inter alia, depend on more than just a nation’s dominant
religion; and that it does make a difference that Turkey is offi cially secular
even with an Islamic party in power.
This volume’s fi nal section identifi es strategies of promoting human
rights through nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and mechanisms
to include minorities—both economically and politically—in national
affairs. Also in this section, we argue that in the post-9/11 era, some
Islamic movements have distanced themselves from condemning human
rights and repositioned themselves toward embracing important parts
of the internationally recognized human rights. Such a shift has enhanced
the internal logical consistency and legitimacy of the human rights notion
throughout the region. Human rights NGOs will need to work with
states and civil society not only on whether their goals are desirable but
chiefl y on whether they are feasible and sustainable in the long run. To
do so, it is necessary to engage Islamic networks, scholars, and activists,
who—through study of and interaction with society—have gained a bet-
ter understanding of local conditions, that is, the socioeconomic status
of women, children, and the elderly. This cooperation toward achieving
common goals is the key to fi nding the most effective strategies to obtain
a wider acceptance of human rights standards in the region. To this end,
both Islam, as a religion, and Islamic law (Shari’a), as a legal system, can
be positively employed for the promotion of human rights in the Middle
East. Thus a pragmatic version of Islam can affect developments if it is
carefully related or adjusted to the facts of the region.
The fi ndings and implications resulting from this volume will have
theoretical as well as policy application. We hope to demonstrate the rele-
vance of area studies to the study of contemporary international affairs.
The similarities, differences, and interactions between Middle Eastern
countries and the West must be fully explored to prevent potential con-
fl icts in the future. Still, this volume, which grew out of a conference
on the Middle East and Islamic Studies, held on the campus of San
Francisco State University, October 16–17, 2009, intends to analyze
the global parameters of human rights by illustrating ways in which the
protections against violence, torture, and discrimination, extrajudicial
killings, as well as freedom from hunger in the region—and for that mat-
ter, the rest of the world—must be upheld in the name of human dignity,
welfare, security, and social justice.
Human Rights in the Middle
East: An Overview
The spread of democratic values and fundamental freedoms across the
globe in the past quarter century has turned the attention of experts
I n t r o d u c t i o n 5
to the Muslim world’s internal struggles in achieving universal human
rights standards. Whether impediments to observing modern notions
of human rights in the Muslim world are inherent to Islam or linked
to the social, structural, and cultural factors is an issue that has sparked
intense debate over the nature of democratic change in these societies.
More broadly, the struggle for human rights has revived an old rivalry
within the Muslim world between secular rationalists and Islamists. In
today’s globalizing world, religious heterogeneity, emerging norms, and
multiple loyalties have become so intricately entangled that it makes
eminent sense, therefore, to talk about values and religious pluralism.
Can embracing religious pluralism provide the best hope for effective
adjustment to global change and the information age? Is value pluralism a
necessary condition for making progress toward achieving social justice in
the international community? What role does the human rights discourse
play in nudging along the debate between Western and non- Western
worlds, and who should be held to account for the persistence of human
rights abuses in the Middle East? These are critical and complex issues
that should be addressed.
In Iran, Barbara Ann Rieffer- Flanagan points out, there is some basis
for hope in the future: There is limited progress on second generation
rights (socioeconomic and cultural rights) and the political elites are
increasingly using the language of international human rights. A prag-
matic Islam that seeks a dynamic interpretation of Islamic law (Shari’a)
can be an effective alternative to the sacred and textual rigidity of ortho-
dox Islam. On balance, human rights prospects in the Middle East are
uncertain if not entirely bleak. But beyond the Middle East, experiences
of Muslims in Turkey, Indonesia, and India have been positively linked to
human rights and democracy at least in certain periods.
Deciding between competing narratives regarding the relationship—
or even the conversation—between religion and human rights has not
been an easy affair. This can also be comparatively demonstrated, by
examining the role of Catholicism and human rights both in the Western
world and Latin America, Hinduism and human rights in India, Con-
fucianism and Buddhism and human rights in East Asia—to cite a few
examples. It is worth noting that some ostensibly Christian nations have
produced admirable records of human rights and democracy, while oth-
ers have produced fascism and other forms of totalitarianism. The same
nation with the same religious heritage has sometimes produced both.
Put very simply, the linkage between religion and human rights needs
further nuanced and subtle analysis.
The Catholic Church has faced a myriad of criticisms regarding its
complicity in corrupt regimes, gender bias in the nonordination of
women and the regulation of reproductive freedom, unfair treatment
of its own employees and members, and, perhaps most crucially, the
6 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
exploitation of dependent and unemancipated persons receiving its ser-
vices.1 Over time, however, the infl uence of the Church’s basic theologi-
cal message and legal forms and policies has arguably helped account for
the realization of human rights as a feature of Western legal institutions.
The key point to note is that the richness and complexity of Catholicism’s
role in advancing human rights point to both successes and failures.2 The
Vatican has both identifi ed with some human rights and also endorsed
those violating rights, depending on which rights, eras, and issues one
is addressing. One Pope was all for democracy in Poland, and another
helped cover up child abuse in Ireland and elsewhere.
Similarly, it is important to understand the ways in which Hindu
traditions both strengthen and weaken the struggle for human rights in
South Asia today. Opposition to caste discrimination in the Hindu world
has a long history. Yet many Indians tend to attribute the persisting dis-
crimination against untouchables (Dalits) to Hinduism. As it is the case
in Christianity, Islam, and Judaism, Hinduism has always contained both
conservative and reformist, even radical variants.3 In contemporary India,
as Jack Donnelly notes, “Hinduism functions as both a support for and
an impediment to the exercise and enjoyment of internationally recog-
nized human rights.”4 The universalist elements of Hinduism—a single
dharma governing an integrated, divinely infused reality and regulating
a universal struggle toward liberation—have provided in both principle
and practice an impetus toward shoring up local support for fundamental
human rights.5 Some experts on Islamic law have shown the compet-
ing trends in Islamic interpretation, similar to varieties of thought in
Christianity, Southern Baptist and Congregationalist interpretations of
Christianity.6
Likewise, Confucian tradition, with its strong communitarian strands
and frameworks, has become a topic of much discussion in recent years.
Many observers have argued that Confucianism can be properly inter-
preted to become compatible with modern human rights with respect
to their content, if not legal regulation. Even though Confucianism has
historically been based on a hierarchical foundation, especially in the con-
text of patriarchal social and cultural traditions, classical Confucians took
the view that all people have the capacity to become fl ourishing moral
persons in the community, if not exemplary sages.7 Like all traditions,
Confucianism has been open to change and development in response
to both internal social problems and external pressures. Currently, there
exists a strong movement of New Confucians who tend to progres-
sively reinterpret the tradition in robust engagement with the West.8
As a dynamic tradition, Confucianism can be reinterpreted to provide a
minimum of social guarantees for human rights in the form of support-
ive public policies and political reforms, including constitutionalism and
democracy. Contemporary Japan and South Korea provide particularly
I n t r o d u c t i o n 7
apt examples for adjusting Confucian- infl uenced societies to modern
human rights standards.9
Islam and Human Rights
While focusing largely on the Muslim world, this book has examined both
internal and external factors infl uencing the state and progress of human
rights in the Middle East. The central theme underlying this volume’s
arguments is that religious factors seem extraneous to an understanding
of human rights issues in the Muslim world. All religions have developed
in patriarchal settings: They are largely expressed in patriarchal terms, and
they are heavily infl uenced by patriarchal values. It is therefore wrong to
examine the ambiguities and contradictions in Islamic sacred texts, instead
of addressing social and structural causes of economic and political decay.
The contributions by Manochehr Dorraj, Turan Kayaoglu, and Halim
Rene have demonstrated that renewed emphasis on the relationship
between religion and human rights has increasingly become an essential
element of law, politics, and society in contemporary Muslim world. By
way of contrast, the chapter by Lawrence Davidson has noted that, histori-
cally, all rights have local origins and have been shaped by local cultural
traditions. Others, such as Anthony Chase, have argued that sexual and
gender rights continue to challenge traditionally narrow notions of what
constitutes a protected status against discrimination. Chase underscores
the point that respect for rights based on a singular identity risks forgoing
the emergence of fl uid, multiple, and evolving identities of Muslims.
Although the issue of how to implement human rights remains unre-
solved, the gap between the Muslim and Western worlds over the issue of
what constitutes human rights has been narrowed. The dispute between
the two worlds over human rights is not a confl ict in dialectics but one
of perspective. In the post-9/11 era, Islamists and secular human rights
forces have inherited overlapping priorities in areas such as the use of
security prisons and courts, electoral rights, and freedom of expression,
leading the way for bridging the religious- secular divide that had vexingly
beleaguered human rights conditions in the Middle East.
Over the centuries, Muslim countries have been subject to political
machinations and manipulation by great powers, driven both by rivalry
and collusion. In the Middle East, for example, the Western world has
gained more access to the region’s oil resources by working with dictators
rather than democratic regimes accountable to their people. The U.S.
strategic ties with the governments of Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and
Pakistan have always been based on purely instrumental grounds, refl ect-
ing geopolitical impulses. The persistence of geopolitical concerns,
especially in the aftermath of the U.S. occupation of Iraq, has rendered
8 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
the work of human rights groups and organizations immensely diffi cult
in countries such as Egypt.
Security considerations have dramatically narrowed the space for
human rights claims and activities in the name of the global campaign
dubbed the “war on terror.” The chapter by Monshipouri and Mokhtari
demonstrates the fl aws of the so- called war on terror strategy undertaken
by the Bush administration. Beyond the exigencies of “humanitarian
intervention,” and “the responsibility to protect,” they point out, moral
and ethical justifi cations for military intervention under the rubric of
security, stability, and nation- building have fallen by the wayside. It
may very well be the case that investing in nation- building and peace-
building is an effective way to combat terrorism, but postconfl ict societies
encounter a bewildering array of socioeconomic and political diffi culties
for which the military occupation cannot provide reliable panacea, and in
fact may be the overt cause of many of these issues.
Exploring the root causes of human rights abuses in the Middle East
and North Africa, Bahey eldin Hassan argues, the dominant role of the
executive branch—and the security apparatuses at the heart of it—has led
to a chronic failure to build a nation of rights and laws. Institutions and
mechanisms that are meant to protect the individual and society from
autocracy are used to legitimize and institutionalize a systematic assault
on the liberties and rights of the individual and society, all the while
methodically weakening civil society, which was created in some countries
such as Egypt, Syria, and Iraq during the periods of relative liberalism in
the fi rst half of the twentieth century. In these countries, the constitution,
legislative process, courts, parliament, and religious establishments have
often been used as means of conferring legitimacy on methodical assaults
on the rights of individuals and society.
The 2011 uprisings in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, and the rest of
the Middle East and North Africa illustrate the fact that the spread
of modernity and modernizing forces in a society is indeed a key contrib-
uting factor to the implementation of reform. These forces are likely to
push a country toward a gradual democratic transition, a possibility that,
as Hassan notes, seems more likely in Tunisia than Egypt given that
Tunisia is the most modernized and urbanized country in the region.
In Egypt, by contrast, modern forces are weak. The military establishment
has been the main prop of the regime since 1952 and has vested interest in
maintaining certain power relations and institutional arrangements.
The Internal Forces of Change
Three groups have lately been the subjects of an intense human rights
debate in the Muslim world: women, minorities, and migrant workers.
Important segments of Muslim women have pushed for their rightful
I n t r o d u c t i o n 9
place in society and the polity, calling for more educational and employ-
ment opportunities. The rise of religious revivalism and extremism has
provoked a backlash in the form of movements for women’s legal rights,
in particular, and women’s rights to religious freedom, more generally.
Muslim Women: Gender Relations and Social Realities
The issues of women’s role, status, and rights in modern societies of the
Muslim world have generated highly emotive and divisive debates among
Muslims of different ideological and political persuasions. Because of
women’s concrete struggles, political and business elites have come to
realize that the issues of gender and development are interrelated. Many
problems, however, stand in the way of improving women’s rights. The
Middle Eastern region has one of the lowest indicators of global educational
standards of women. The Arab states of the Middle East have the least
political participation by women of any region in the world.10 Polygamy is
practiced regularly, and women are not allowed to retain custody of their
children if they separate from their husbands. Men have a unilateral right
of divorce. Most Muslim women need a male relative’s permission to get a
passport.11 In some contemporary Muslim societies, the status of women
in matters relating to family rights such as marriage, divorce, child support,
and child custody has improved considerably as a result of modernizing
some aspects of the shari’a. This positive trend can be seen in countries as
diverse as Indonesia, Iran, Malaysia, Morocco, Tunisia, and Turkey.
The great variation between Tunisia vs. Saudi Arabia in terms of
women’s rights is revealing. While Tunisian women have enjoyed mod-
ern constitutional rights since the 1950s, Saudi government has only
recently—since the 1990s—accorded limited recognition to women’s
rights. In Indonesia, the women’s movement and activism has been on
the rise, albeit weak in relation to the state. The Indonesian women’s
rights and their unmet grievances are similar to those of their counterparts
in the Middle East. As the economic crisis of 1998 intensifi ed, dozens of
women activists put pressure on the government to alleviate the negative
consequences of the economic crisis for women and children. This devel-
opment came to be known as the Reformasi movement, making many
women cognizant of their collective power and voice.12 This movement
demolished the ideological façade of the old regime. Yet, the subsequent
administrations of B. J. Habibie and Megawati Sukarnoputri failed to
successfully address the main issues facing Indonesia women, such as
female traffi cking, the plight of women migrant workers, violence against
women, and women’s participation in politics. President Susilo Bambang
Yudhoyono (2004–present) included four women in his 36-member
cabinet. Many women’s organizations argued that four women in the
10 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
cabinet were not enough and that this showed that women’s access to
the political arena was routinely blocked.13
Iranian women participated in great numbers in the 2009 Green
Movement—a movement that was homegrown but motivated by
modern social movements and protest politics. What was perhaps most
noteworthy was the increasing range of Iranian women who embraced
human rights as an empowering tool. Many Iranian women felt vindicated
and emboldened, even as the risks to them for staking their claims were
not signifi cantly reduced. This unique opportunity revitalized the Iranian
civil society, posing new challenges to the control of the theological
state—a dysfunctional state held together by coercive means and sheer
intimidation. Many Iranian women, regardless of their ideological bent,
saw a rare opportunity in the 2009 election to advance their struggles.
While acknowledging the signifi cance of such movements throughout
the Middle East, Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat’s contribution in this volume
has raised numerous questions about the actual status of women in
Turkey. Her analysis is important and serves to caution us against the
kind of naïve optimism that might lead one to believe that Turkey’s lead-
ers have solved the country’s gender issues. Despite some improvements
in the status of women in Turkey, as Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat has aptly
observed, the country is far from granting equal rights to women and
approaching gender equality. State agencies and major political actors
continue to embrace traditional gender notions and women generally
face all forms of discrimination and human rights violations.
The Muslim World’s Minorities
The Muslim world’s minorities—linguistic, religious, and ethnic—have
been the subject of special inquiry by human rights groups and organiza-
tions. Likewise, the rights and the status of Muslim migrant minorities
have received considerable attention. The citizenship laws of a number of
European countries vis-à-vis Muslim migrant minorities would not pass
the test of true pluralism.14 For centuries, the Muslim world displayed as
much or more tolerance and respect for religious minorities as did the
Christian West. For example, the treatment of the Jewish minorities in
Muslim societies stands as not only fair but also civilized when compared
with the dreadful record of Christian European persecution of Jews over
the centuries. Moreover, atrocities committed against Muslims in the
early- to mid-1990s in Bosnia contrast sharply with the Muslim world’s
parallel experiences dealing with non- Muslims, especially in the context
of the Ottoman policy of local tolerance and pluralism.
Jews, Christians, Zoroastrians, and Mandeans (Sabeans) have been
allowed under Muslim rule to practice their faiths and be governed by their
own laws under a contract of protection (dhimma), which guaranteed their
I n t r o d u c t i o n 11
life, property, freedom of movement, and religious practice. In fact, Muslim
history is remarkably free from inquisitions, persecutions, witch- hunts, and
holocausts that characterized the Western and other civilizations. Muslim
communities protected their minorities from persecution by others; they
protected Jews from Christians and Eastern Christians from Roman Catho-
lics. In Spain under the Umayyads, and in Baghdad under the Abbasid
Khalifahs, Christians and Jews enjoyed a freedom of religion that they
themselves rarely allowed each other or anyone else.15
Known as the “People of the Book” (ahl al-kitab), non- Muslims
enjoyed autonomy in the areas of personal- status law, worship, and edu-
cation; they also had their own units with their own discreet religious,
legal, social, educational, and charitable institutions. This autonomy was
intended to compensate for the absence of equal status and the denial
of political rights. Non- Muslims were also required to pay a special poll
tax ( jizya), although they were exempt from the Zakat, or alms tax
levied on Muslims. Today, non- Muslims are politically integrated into
the Muslim communities as active partners in the conduct of the states,
despite contradictory evidence at times.16 Muslims and non- Muslims are
equals before criminal law.17 Under civil law jurisdiction, Shari’a provides
for some degree of dhimmi judicial autonomy. Dhimmis are allowed to
resort to their own canon law, although they retain the right to access
to Muslim courts. In certain cases, judges recognize dhimmi exceptions
to the civil and criminal law.18 Religious tolerance is mandated as non-
Muslims have the right to choose one’s religion and the right to practice
one’s religion.19 Islamic law provides dhimmis with economic rights
equal to those of Muslim citizens.20 But, as with any legal system or
theory, Islamic law may not necessarily be equated with Muslim practice.
Tolerance of non- Muslims in practice depends on the interpretation and
application of law, as well as respect for it. The impact of government
policies as such on Islamic observances of non-Muslims’ human rights
cannot be underestimated.21
Dhimmis are not required any longer to pay any special tax. They
are treated like other citizens, and most written constitutions in Muslim
countries now guarantee the principle of equality for minorities. In Iran,
Jordan, and Lebanon, non- Muslims are assured of a fi xed share of seats
in the parliament. This, however, does not apply to the Baha’i minor-
ity group in Iran. Although they are the largest non- Muslim minority
(350,000) in Iran, Baha’is are not regarded as ahl al-kitab—that is, the
protected people. The evidence in many Muslim countries points to a
continued chasm between constitutional reforms and traditional pre-
cepts. Restrictions on minority groups, for example, are still taught and
preached by religious institutions (madrasas) and scholars.
In some parts of the Muslim world, both the state and the people have
shown intolerance toward religious minorities. In others, persecution of
12 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
religious minorities has been sporadic and less marked. Ahmadiyas in
Pakistan, Baha’is in Iran and Tunisia, Berbers in Algeria, Christians in
Sudan, and some forced conversions of Jews are the most notable exam-
ples of the mistreatment of religious minorities. In Sudan, a new dress
code has been imposed on women since January 1999, requiring them to
wear Islamic attire and a headscarf, regardless of their faith. Even prior to
this law, one study fi nds “Christian women and others had been detained
and whipped for not dressing according to Islamic custom.”22 Since
1984, Pakistan’s blasphemy laws have placed additional legal restrictions
on the Ahmadiya community. Some of these restrictions are in clear viola-
tions of Article 2 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, which
prohibits any discrimination based on race, color, creed, or language.
As Mahmood Monshipouri and Jonathan Whooley have demon-
strated, in the cases of Egypt, Turkey, Lebanon, and Iraq, to the extent
that minorities remain marginal, many policymakers wrongly construct
their grievances, activities, and identities as existential threats to the
national security of the countries in which they reside. In virtually all
cases, including the Kurds in Iraq and Turkey, the Druze in Lebanon, and
the Copts in Egypt, participation in the political process may potentially
create a sustainable platform for boosting the causes of these minorities.
The Islamist bombing of a Coptic Christian church in Alexandria on
January 1, 2011, sparked widespread protests in Cairo. Copts accused
the Egyptian government of refusing to acknowledge religious motiva-
tions as a factor in attacks against them, often blaming such violent acts
on other factors. For its part, one expert notes, the government fears any
overture to Copts would anger Islamists, who it considers the greatest
menace to its power. The growing Islamization of society, coupled with
the perceived or actual discrimination against Copts, has caused many
of them to seek refuge in the church. The result may be the deepening
of fault lines in church- government ties in years to come—an ominous
prospect for a regime that prepares itself for a new leader.23
The Kurds, living in Iran, Iraq, Syria, and Turkey, compose the largest
linguistic minority in the Middle East region. They have, for a long time,
challenged the modern nation- states in which they reside, seeking goals
such as statehood and political autonomy. These goals were and still are
seen as menacing to the region’s stability, which accounts for why the
Kurdish cause has received little or no support from external powers.
The Kurdish armed forces have received military and security equipment
from some members of the European Union and Russia, as well as the
United States, despite frequent and well- documented reports of human
rights violations perpetrated against Kurdish villages in clashes between
Turkish security forces and secessionist guerrillas in southern Turkey. The
Kurds have been relatively disfavored economically, both historically and
in the modern period. As a Sunni minority, the Kurds have rarely suffered
I n t r o d u c t i o n 13
from religious persecution; their legitimate economic and cultural griev-
ances have nevertheless been too often glossed over by the region’s coun-
tries as well as the international community.24
The geostrategic map of the Middle East has changed since the
U.S. invasion of Iraq and the overthrow of Saddam Hussein’s regime.
The Iraqi Kurds have gained a measure of political freedom that had
eluded them for much of their recent history, and the Kurdish struggle
in the rest of the region has gained an unprecedented momentum. Yet
resolving human rights problems in an ethnically heterogeneous society
like Iraq is no mean feat. As Nader Entessar has cogently demonstrated,
the Kurdish case involves a set of complicated political, social, and histori-
cal variables that generate a circular trap, pitting one nationality against
another. These complexities have thus far carried negative consequences
for the human rights of the Kurds in the region.
Migrant Workers
Under the watchful eyes of human rights organizations and groups,
combating workplace discrimination has become not only necessary
but also possible in the age of globalization. The miserable working
conditions of migrant workers throughout the world, but more specifi –
cally in the Persian Gulf region—where tiny Arab countries have found
themselves in desperate need of imported labor to modernize as well as
generate growth and urban sprawl—has brought to forefront fl agrant
violations of human rights. Migrant workers have lived in the Arabian
Peninsula for more than two centuries. Starting in the 1970s, however,
the dynamics of migration fl ows to the Persian Gulf region took a new
twist with the rise in oil prices and the development boom in the region’s
newly independent countries. These changing dynamics were most nota-
ble in the United Arab Emirates (UAE).25 In 1968, the population of
the UAE was 180,000, of which two- thirds were nationals and one- third
migrants.26 By 2005, the UAE’s population had risen to 4.1 million,
of which about 80 percent were migrants.27 The changing dynamics of
migration fl ows to the region have triggered a debate over labor condi-
tions and practices that violate the rights of migrant workers and subject
them to modern day exploitation and abuse.
The recognition of a broader set of social, economic, political, and civil
rights for migrant workers has been conspicuously lacking in the coun-
tries of the Gulf Cooperation Council—GCC: Bahrain, Kuwait, Oman,
Qatar, Saudi Arabia, and the UAE. This is evidenced by the fact that only
Syria in the Arabian Peninsula has ratifi ed the International Convention
for the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant Workers and Members of
their Families (the “CMW”).28 As the number of foreign workers in the
region has increased, so has their vulnerability to abuse at the hands of
14 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
employers and the nationals. The 2008 global food price hikes raised the
specter of potential future food crises in the GCC countries, an ominous
warning that migrant workers, who are most vulnerable to food price
increases and shortages, will be likely to foment social unrest.
Migrant workers face wide- ranging problems, including poor work-
place and living conditions, gender- related discrimination, and restrictions
on their ability to organize and demand the protection of their rights.
In the UAE, workers are not allowed to protest, and those who do are
typically punished in a harsh manner.29 The UAE government has not
allowed for trade unions to form despite its promise to do so in the past.30
These problems are further compounded by global migration trends,
which contain paradoxes and ambiguities related to underenforcement
of laws and vagaries of the global market.
The plight of migrant workers in the UAE is further complicated
by nationalist and xenophobic sentiments. Today, some UAE nationals
clearly view expatriates or migrant workers as threats to their cultural
integrity and national identity, despite the fact that there is long- term and
structural need for migrant workers—skilled as well as nonskilled—in the
region.31 Ironically, from the point of view of the countries from which
these migrant labors originate, any halt in the fl ow of labor to destination
countries will seriously disrupt their domestic economy.32 In response to
the widespread abuse of migrant workers’ rights in the UAE, the inter-
national human rights community has put forth ways of constraining
the range of possibilities for abuse while at the same time strengthening
protections afforded to migrant workers in defense of their rights.
Despite recent improvements, deep structural and enforcement prob-
lems perpetuate the abuse of migrant workers’ rights in the UAE. As a
structural matter, the existing networks of employment and recruitment
networks for migrant workers are organized in a way that facilitates the
abuse of the fundamental rights of migrant workers, not only in the period
before they leave their country of origin and while in transit, but also dur-
ing the entire period of their stay. As an enforcement matter, quite simply
there exists no powerful executive agency in the UAE to monitor or secure
the rights of workers, as the existing agencies lack the necessary personnel
and resources to perform the executive branch’s supervisory or oversight
functions. These independent but certainly interrelated problems have,
unsurprisingly, allowed the private sector to step into the regulatory void
and conduct business as it wishes. The private sector’s free hand in manag-
ing its relationship with migrant workers has been facilitated by its prime
position in the UAE’s export- driven economy. The chapter by Mahmood
Monshipouri and Ali Assareh underscores the importance of the UAE
government assuming a more active role in addressing a variety of serious
structural and enforcement problems that often produce substandard and
undignifi ed living conditions for migrant workers.
I n t r o d u c t i o n 15
Living under Occupation
and Repression
In the Middle East as globally, there is a wide gap between the endorse-
ment and the practice of human rights. For governments of Muslim
countries, the real question is how to adopt democratic measures without
jeopardizing their political longevity. It may not be possible for authori-
tarian governments to prolong their existence while endorsing genuine
democracy; they can transition, but they cannot last. The challenge fac-
ing the Muslim world’s ruling, cultural elite, scholars, and lawyers, if
they wish to be cosmopolitan and act consistently with internationally
recognized human rights, is to interpret Islamic law consistent with the
human dignity found in emerging and modern standards. Many Muslims,
however, have lost their confi dence in the international system as a neu-
tral problem- solver after the experiences of the post–Cold War era and
the persistence of geopolitics of exclusion and double standards.33 The
current crisis in the occupied territories of Palestine has caused enormous
damage to the Palestinians, as the bitterness and confl ict between Israelis
and Palestinians has festered and grown. Across the West Bank and Gaza
Strip, one expert reminds us, the majority of the Palestinians are now liv-
ing in poverty—that is, on less than $2 per day.34
The increasing deterioration of basic health conditions in the occupied
territories of Palestine points to fl agrant violations of basic rights of a
people living under occupation. The contribution by Jess Ghannam best
captures this tragedy, especially since the siege and invasion of Gaza and
its aftermath. What is more troubling, Ghannam writes, is the continuing
Israeli impunity and the failure of international entities— nation- states,
NGOs, international judicial bodies—to hold Israel accountable. The
Western world must treat Muslim masses as partners in the struggle
against human rights abuses, while empowering reformist voices and
civil society by giving them hope. Thus far, geopolitical considerations
have dictated the policies of the West to the detriment of protecting and
promoting human rights.
The initial U.S. reactions to civil disturbances and insurrections in
Tunisia, which erupted on December 17, 2010, were typical. Unlike
other situations, such as those in Iran, Burma, Serbia, and Ukraine, where
the United States and other Western countries provided either moral sup-
port or limited amounts of economic assistance to prodemocracy groups,
Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton prior to the regime’s over-
throw expressed her concern over the impact of the “unrest and insta-
bility” on the “very positive aspects of our relationship with Tunisia,”
insisting that the United States would not take side in this uprising and
would wait before even communicating directly with the country’s rulers,
Zine al- Abidine Ben Ali or his ministers. Rather than calling for a more
16 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
politically open climate and an accountable government Clinton initially
called for more open and free economy as the panacea for the country’s
unemployment, poverty, and general recession.35
However, on January 14, 2011, when Ben Ali fl ed the country and
took refuge in Saudi Arabia, Secretary Clinton felt emboldened to push
the U.S. Arab allies like Yemen toward economic and political reform.
Many experts on North Africa have in the past—especially since the
post-9/11 period—warned that the persistence of authoritarianism in the
northern littoral states of Africa (collectively known as the Maghreb) must
be seen as a source of radicalization in the region. More specifi cally, in the
context of the global war on terror, some observers have drawn our atten-
tion to the problematic nature of the Western world’s tolerance of and
support for these illiberal regimes in the face of emerging democratic and
popular challenges. Consider, for example, the recent uprisings in Egypt.
They have reminded us that a growing sense of injustice and disappoint-
ment, in connection with the use and the abuse of state power, continues
to shape political mobilization and radicalization not only in North Africa
but also among North Africans living and working in Europe.36 Even from
a security perspective, Lise Storm posits, it is of paramount signifi cance
that the West put pressure on heads of states to embark on democratiza-
tion processes and be prepared to invest money, political capital, and hard
graft over the longer term.37 In this regard, the Obama administration’s
support for easing Hosni Mubarak out of power in Egypt sent an encour-
aging signal. Yet it is not clear whether the U.S. government will keep
pushing for reform consistently across the Middle East.
Unlike Tunisia and Egypt, which are ethnically homogenous, modern
nation- states, Libya represents a diffi cult and highly complex case given
the country’s tribal texture, rentier state, vast landmass, and deserts. How
far to go, and what means must be employed to end the violence in Libya
and depose Col. Muammar Qaddafi ’s repressive regime pose daunting
challenges to the international community. Perhaps even more problem-
atic is the question of why NATO has rushed to the aid of the Libyan
opposition movements while the brutal suppression of opposition groups
in Bahrain are either marginalized or tacitly approved in the name of
national security. To this end, the Obama administration’s foreign policy
risks degenerating into a state of debilitating inconsistency if urgent action
is not taken to achieve mission clarity. If one engages to protect civilians,
one risks becoming embroiled in what may turn out to be a lasting, vio-
lent, and ultimately uncertain civil war; however, to not act is to invite
violent repression from leaders the region over. A complex vortex of tribal
affi liation, identities, ties, and interests accounts for almost all major social
and power relationships within the regime, the military, and what passes
for political society. A quick overthrow of Qaddafi might not necessarily
guarantee stability and may in fact ensure continued bloodletting.38
I n t r o d u c t i o n 17
A relatively persuasive case can be made that Libya has forfeited
its claim to sovereignty given the use of foreign mercenaries to attack
prodemocracy supporters and shed the blood of innocents even at
funerals for the recently fallen.39 There is a strong urge on the part of
the international community to invoke the “responsibility to protect”
where a local government is unwilling or unable to help its own popula-
tion. The emerging challenge of protecting civilians from mass atrocities
requires developing new capacities—national as well as international—to
intervene effectively and constructively.
It is vitally important not to lose sight of the fact that external pres-
sures can play a very signifi cant role in assisting prodemocracy and
pro- human rights movements and groups. That said, the answer to the
question of how best to enhance human rights and human dignity ulti-
mately lies within the purview of internal domains. For human rights to
be universal, they must be anchored in local cultures. Increasingly, a con-
sensus has emerged that, in order to be effectively enforced, human rights
principles must be locally justifi ed and achieved.40 The choices made by
the leaders and people of the Muslim world will play a key role in shaping
the politics and the practice of human rights in these societies.
Significance of the Book
This volume’s originality lies in our attempt to look beyond the abuses
in the region, while admitting that there is no facile answer to the ques-
tion of how to protect human rights in the Middle East. To meet more
effectively moral challenges underpinning the struggle for human rights
in the region, it is crucial to understand the limits as well as opportunities
that local human rights movements encounter. Equally important is to
understand competing interests and values that lead to alternative con-
structions of human rights and delivering human rights to all people and
at all times. It is in this context that we underscore the need for promot-
ing and protecting human rights through debate and dialogue. It is this
possibility of engagement we intend to explore in this book.
We are cognizant of at least four prominent books on the subject:
Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na’im, Muslims and Global Justice (University of
Pennsylvania Press, 2011), Ann Elizabeth Mayer, Islam and Human
Rights: Tradition and Politics (Westview Press, 2007); Anthony Chase
and Amr Hamzawy, eds., Human Rights in the Arab World (University
of Pennsylvania, 2006); and Kevin Dwyer, The Arab Voices: The Human
Rights Debate in the Middle East (University of California Press, 1991).
An-Na’im’s work critically analyzes the role that Muslims must play in the
development of pragmatic, right- based framework for global justice. His
focus on a people- centered approach to rights aimed at empowering local
actors as a way of accommodating a universal human rights paradigm is
18 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
a valuable addition to the existing literature. Mayer’s volume does an
effective comparative/historical analysis of the cases of Iran, Pakistan,
and Sudan. She is also very good in noting how illiberal circles have
captured dominant interpretations in places like Iran and Saudi Arabia,
while also noting that more liberal interpretations are possible in places
like Turkey.
While Chase/Hamazwy’s volume is a superb contribution to the lite-
rature, its focus remains confi ned to the Arab Middle East. This is also
true of Dwyer’s book. Our volume, in contrast, includes both discussions
of problems with extant theoretical frameworks and the need for novel
and local approaches. We also examine wide- ranging cases, including
Iran, Turkey, Eurasia, as well as the Arab world, to advance our central
arguments. Additionally, we provide strategies for protecting and pro-
moting the causes of human rights in the region. We believe our volume
will provide a comprehensive look beyond the abuses of the human
rights in the region and will merit particular attention by students, schol-
ars, lawyers, journalists, activists, and policymakers who work toward
improving prospects for a pragmatic, measured process of protecting and
advancing human rights in the Middle East.
Structure of the Book
This book is organized around three parts. The fi rst part deals with the
problems surrounding the current frameworks of universal and national
movement of human rights and social justice. In the ensuing chapters,
the importance of local conditions and cultural traditions in defi ning
what human rights are is elaborated. It is also argued that Islam is not
frozen in time and space. In the chapters that follow, details regarding an
Islamically legitimate approach toward bolstering compatibility between
modern standards of human rights and Islam’s sacred text will give the
reader a fresh perspective on the subject matter. And fi nally a case study
in this part illustrates that protecting minority religions from defamation
has positive consequences not only for freedom of expression and religion
but also for the political participation of religious minorities.
Part II assesses common goals and case studies. Specifi c attention is
given to the issue of human rights of the Kurdish people in the Middle
East, underscoring the importance of safeguarding ethnic groups’ rights by
simply relying on the acceptability of broad universal human rights that
avert pitting one group’s rights claims vis-à-vis another group’s claims.
Turning to the state of progress on human rights in Iran since the 1979
Revolution, one contributor contends that given some of the limited
progress on socioeconomic rights and the fact that the country’s politi-
cal elites are using the human rights vernacular there is some basis for
hope for the future, despite the overt repressive methods used against
I n t r o d u c t i o n 19
the green movement proponents. The exploration of the issue of
women’s rights in Turkey raises some serious questions about the status
of women’s rights there. Although some improvements in the status of
women in Turkey have transpired, the country is far from gender equality.
State agencies and other major political actors still embrace traditional
gender notions that discriminate against women.
To systematically examine ethnic and religious minorities, such as the
Kurds, the Druze, and Copts, this section suggests that minority partici-
pation in the political process is likely to create a sustainable platform for
promoting the causes of these minorities. In Chapter 9, Anthony Chase
turns to the examination of sexual and gender rights and the way in
which they have challenged traditionally narrow notions of what consti-
tutes a protected status against discrimination, emphasizing that respect
for rights based on a singular identity risks creating a straightjacket that
denies the fl uidity of identity.
The book’s fi nal section deals with strategies that Middle Eastern people
can use to effectively improve their human rights conditions. While the
debate over counterterrorism measures remains unsettled, it is evident that
efforts aimed at promoting sustainable methods of peaceful, democratic
change have received a great deal of attention in the face of the 2011 Arab
awakening in the Middle East and North Africa. The departure of Tunisia’s
and Egypt’s long- ruling authoritarian presidents has exposed the long-
term costs associated with supporting repressive yet pro- West regimes.
It is, however, still too early to proclaim the victory of democracy and
human rights in the region, as the confl ict continues between entrenched
authoritarian forces in Tunisia and Egypt.
In the chapters that follow, the plight of migrant workers in the UAE
takes the center stage. It is argued that today’s Dubai, built over decades
by migrant labors, stands out as the center of the Arabian Peninsula’s
fi nance and reexport business. Ironically, these same workers have been
identifi ed as the human collateral damage of the global fi nancial and food
crisis since 2008. The pervasive abuse of the rights of workers has led
to mounting pressure for direct government involvement. There is no
alternative to the UAE’s intervention and prevention if workers’ rights
are to be ensured.
In Chapter 13 in the context of health and human rights in Palestine,
the siege and invasion of Gaza and the role of the boycott, divestment,
and sanctions (BDS) movement is examined. The occupation and
colonization of Palestine stands out as a glaring example of how health
rights are denied with dire consequences for the Palestinians. Given the
centrality of addressing the humanitarian concerns of the Palestinians in
Gaza to any possible resolution of the confl ict between the Israelis and
the Palestinians, the current stalemate over Gaza will complicate any
serious efforts aimed at building peace and confi dence between the two.
20 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
To remedy this situation, some suggest, among other things, the so-
called BDS as one strategy for bringing justice to Palestine.
Notes
1. William J. Wagner, “Catholicism,” in Encyclopedia of Human Rights,
Vol. 1, ed. David P. Forsythe, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009,
pp. 260–272; see especially p. 270.
2. Ibid., p. 271.
3. Jack Donnelly, “Hinduism,” in Encyclopedia of Human Rights,
Vol. 2, ed. David P. Forsythe, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009,
pp. 384–393; see especially p. 389.
4. Ibid., p. 392.
5. Ibid.
6. Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na’im, Muslims and Global Justice, Philadelphia,
PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2011).
7. Sumner B. Twiss, “Confucianism,” in Encyclopedia of Human Rights,
Vol. 1, ed. David P. Forsythe, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009,
pp. 394–403; see especially p. 395.
8. Ibid., p. 395.
9. Ibid., p. 401.
10. United Nations Development Program, Human Development Report
2001, New York: UNDP, 2001, pp. 226–229.
11. Susan Sachs, “Where Muslim Traditions Meet Modernity,” the New York
Times, December 17, 2001, p. B1.
12. Melani Budianta, “The Blessed Tragedy: The Making of Women’s Activism
during the Reformasi Years,” in Challenging Authoritarianism in Southeast
Asia: Comparing Indonesia and Malaysia, ed. Ariel Heryanto and Sumit
K. Mandal, New York: Routledge Curzon, 2003, pp. 145–177; see p. 153.
13. For more on the case of Indonesia, see Mahmood Monshipouri, Muslims
in Global Politics: Identities, Interests, and Human Rights, Philadelphia,
PA: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009, Chapter 9.
14. Clinton Bennett, “Religious Minorities: Challenge or Threat,” available
at http://www.religiousfreedom.com/Conference/Germany/bennett2.
htm. Last accessed on November 28, 2003.
15. Khalid Baig, “On Religious Tolerance,” posted on March 21, 2001, avail-
able at http://www.albalagh.net/food_for_thought/tolerance.schtml.
Last accessed on November 28, 2003.
16. David L. Neal, Esq., and Ashraful Hasan, “The Distinctions between
Muslims and Dhimmis: The Human Rights of Non- Muslims under
Islamic Law,” in Human Rights Dilemmas in Contemporary Times,
ed. Ashraful Hasan, New York: Austin & Winfi eld Publishers, 1998,
pp. 9–49; see especially p. 25.
17. Ibid., p. 33.
18. Ibid., p. 35.
19. Ibid., pp. 40–41.
20. Ibid., p. 46.
I n t r o d u c t i o n 21
21. Ibid., p. 47.
22. Paul Marshall, Religious Freedom in the World: A Global Survey of Free-
dom and Persecution, New York: Broadman & Holman Publishers, 2002,
p. 285.
23. Kristen Chick, “Egypt’s Troubled Christians,” The Christian Science
Monitor, January 17, 2011, pp. 8–9.
24. Mahmood Monshipouri, “Islam and Human Rights: From Authenticity
to Modernity,” American Muslim Quarterly, Vol. 1, No. 1, Fall 1997,
pp. 19–32; see pp. 23–25.
25. The UAE is a federation of seven states, termed emirates: Abu Dhabi,
Ajman, Al Fujayrah, Dubai, Ra’s al Khaymad, Sharjah, and Umm al
Qaywayn.
26. According to the UAE’s National Bureau of Statistics, the fi rst population
census in the UAE was conducted in 1968 by the Council of Develop-
ing Trucial States. http://www.uaestatistics.gov.ae. Even then a large
percentage was expatriate Persian. See Frauke Heard- Bey, “The Gulf in
the 20th Century,” Asian Affairs, Vol. 33, No. 1, 3–17 (2002). See also
Fred Halliday, “Labor Migration in the Middle East,” MERIP Reports,
No. 59, pp. 3–17 (Aug., 1977); Frauke Heard- Bey, “The United Arab
Emirates: Statehood and Nation- Building in a Traditional Society,”
Middle East Journal, Vol. 59, No. 3, Democratization and Civil Society,
pp. 357–375 (Summer 2005); Onn Winckler, “The Immigration Policy
of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) States,” Middle Eastern Studies,
Vol. 33, No. 3 (1997), pp. 480–493.
27. “Preliminary Results of the General Census for Population, Housing and
Establishments 2005,” available on the offi cial website of the 2005 UAE
census, www.tedad.ae. Last accessed on June 28, 2010.
28. United Nations Treaty Collection, available at http://treaties.un.org/Pages/
ViewDetails.aspx?src=TREATY&mtdsg_no=IV-13&chapter=4&lang=en.
For a discussion of the Middle Eastern countries’ poor record of CMW
ratifi cation, see Mariette Grange, “The International Convention on
Migrant Workers and its Relevance for the Middle East,” paper presented
to the Irish Center for Human Rights 2009 Summer School, December
18 (2009), available at http://www.december18.net/sites/default/fi les/
MWCinME .
29. Federal Law No. 8 for 1980, Article 112 provides in part: “If the
employee has been charged with premeditated crime, such as his involve-
ment in a physical assault or robbery of property or other offenses such as
the abuse of honesty, breach of trust or strikes, the said employee may be
temporarily suspended from work.”
30. In fact, a recent ministerial resolution directed only at migrant workers
banned them from employment in the country for at least one year in case
of “an illegal strike or its instigation.” Ministerial Resolution 707 of 2006
Regarding Rules and Regulations of Employment in the Country (UAE)
for Non- Citizens, September 6, 2006, Article 13.
31. See, generally, Anthony Cordesman, Bahrain, Oman, Qatar, and the
UAE: Challenges of Security, Boulder, Colorado: Westview Press, 1997;
“United Nations Expert Group Meeting on International Migration and
22 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i
Development in the Arab Region,” Population Division, Department of
Economic and Social Affairs, United Nations Secretariat (May 2006),
available at http://www.pfcmc.com/esa/population/meetings/EGM_
Ittmig_Arab/P02_Kapiszewski ; and Sean Foley, “The UAE: Political
Issues and Security Dilemmas,” Middle East Review of International
Affairs, Vol. 3, No. 1 (March 1999).
32. John Willoughby, “Ambivalent Anxieties of the South Asian- Gulf Arab
Labor Exchange,” in Globalization and the Gulf, ed. John W. Fox, Nada
Mourtada- Sabbah, and Mohammed al- Mutawa, London: Routledge,
2006, pp. 223–243; see p. 232.
33. Richard A. Falk, Human Rights Horizons: The Pursuit of Justice in a Glo-
balizing World, New York: Routledge, 2000, p. 155.
34. Hatem Bazian, “Palestine,” in Encyclopedia of Human Rights, Vol. 4,
ed. David P. Forsythe, New York: Oxford University Press, 2009,
pp. 175–186; see especially p. 179.
35. Stephen Zunes, “Tunisia’s Democratic Revolution,” Truthout, January
19, 2011, available at http://www. truth- out.org/ tunisias- democratic-
revolution66977. Last accessed on January 20, 2011.
36. Jonathan Githens- Mazer, “The Blowback of Repression and the Dynam-
ics of North Africa Radicalization,” International Affairs, Vol. 85, No. 5,
September 2009, pp. 1015–1029; see especially p. 1016.
37. Lise Storm, “The Persistence of Authoritarianism as a Source of Radical-
ization in North Africa,” International Affairs, Vol. 85, No. 5, September
2009, pp. 997–1013.
38. Nicolas Pelham, “The Battle for Libya,” The New York Review of Books,
April 7, 2011, pp. 77–79.
39. “Veering from Peaceful Models, Libya’s Youth Revolt Turns Toward
Chaos,” The New York Times, available at http://www.nytimes.
com/2011/03/13/world/africa/13opposition.html?_r=1&scp=5&sq=
Libya%20funerals&st=cse. Last accessed on April 10, 2011.
40. For a compelling argument along this line, see Abdulaziz Sachedina,
Islam and the Challenge of Human Rights, New York: Oxford University
Press, 2009.
4
P a r t I
Introduction I : Problems with
the Current Frameworks
Many have questioned whether or not the modern liberal position
on human rights, which underscores individual rights established by
a contract between rulers and ruled, is capable of accounting for the
most basic challenges that human rights struggles present in the Middle
East. Although most liberal democracies accept socioeconomic rights
and manifest large welfare states, some Western countries adopt a lib-
eral thinking in their foreign policy that privileges a particular account
of human rights—placing civil and political rights above social and
economic rights. This approach may or may not be widely shared in
the non- Western world. The debate has further raised the issue of
how domestic and international contexts hinder or advance respect for
human rights standards across the globe. One core set of contemporary
problems concerns the navigation between domestic cultural legitimacy
and international standards. Legitimacy has many potential sources,
and the legitimacy that supposedly stems from following internationally
recognized human rights may, to some, be trumped by the legitimacy
that comes from faithfulness to a conservative interpretation of Islam.
Another one relates to the diffi cult task of preserving cultural diversity
while at the same time moving toward forging a genuine normative con-
sensus on the defi nition and implementation of human rights.
And yet another one revolves around enforcement of rights. Even if
there is a consensus on upholding certain rights, such as women’s rights,
the implementation of some rights—for example, rights contained in the
Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discriminations against
Women (CEDAW)—has faced a number of obstacles, the most obvious
one is the charge of cultural imperialism. Many Muslim states have thus
ratifi ed the Convention with reservations that protect their religiously
based laws and cultural traditions.
Although there is no consensus on how each problem should be
resolved, it is imperative to explore the possibilities for compatibility—or
their absence—between universal human rights norms and the tre-
mendous diversity of cultural traditions, local and national identities,
as well as socioeconomic and political conditions. Without taking into
account the entire array of factors contributing to human rights viola-
tions or improvements, it is not possible to identify variables and policies
that often affect human rights practices in the region in major ways.
Despite a signifi cant transformation of economic systems and the trend
toward political democracy in much of the world, the modern states in
the Middle East still operate on the basis of conventional premise of state
sovereignty. It is in this context that we argue that while human rights are
essentially moral claims, they must ineluctably be staked out in the politi-
cal arena. It is the legislative process that creates law, and this process is
always political—featuring a clash of power and policy options. In real-
ity, rights have never been above politics, and the latter has always been
infl uenced largely by local factors.
Lawrence Davidson argues that there is no such thing as a priori human
rights. Historically all rights have local origins and have been shaped by
the customs and traditions of particular groups. The notion that rights
are customized by natural localism, however, is challenged by those who
argue that internationally recognized human rights were negotiated by a
variety of state representatives from all regions of the world, in 1948
and thereafter, and that the application of these norms was affected by
particular and varying contexts, including local customs—everywhere,
including in the West. In addition, the provincial nature of human life
has opened the notion of rights to manipulation by power elites who
control local, regional, and/or state information environments and
thereby can construct thought collectives that lead to deep and persis-
tent discrimination. Human rights, Davidson points out, are regularly
violated by both nondemocratic and democratic states. In part, this is
because natural localism is a constant of the human condition. For all
the talk of globalism, people still live primarily within localized areas that
are their hometowns and neighborhoods. There are no “natural rights.”
Human rights do not descend down to us from the heavens. They are
products of our own making and we distribute them as we see fi t. The
goal of distributing them to all is indeed the business of all of humanity.
Critics argue that grassroots experience in “neighborhoods” is indeed
important—all politics is local—but the fact that there are international
factors, such as a universal conception of human rights plus pressures to
24 P r o b l e m s w i t h t h e C u r r e n t F r a m e w o r k s
take them seriously, must be taken into account in any systematic study
of the interplay of international and local factors.
Manochehr Dorraj argues that Islam provides the cultural prism of
perception and the language of legitimation in the Muslim world. It is
not the necessary cause or the explanation for the social realities, includ-
ing the abysmal record of human rights in much of that region. It can
be interpreted to improve the state of human rights, as it was done
under President Khatami’s interlude in Iran, or it can be interpreted to
suppress it, as it was the case under Mulla Umar and the Taliban rule in
Afghanistan. Islam is neither responsible for rights violations nor the core
basis for advancing rights. It is worth noting that as a faith, Islam is not
frozen in time and space. What Muslims have made and continue to make
of Islam is historically and socially conditioned. Given this reality, our
analytical gaze instead should be focused on social and political develop-
ments and on the state and its exercise and abuse of power.
Halim Rane underscores the importance of Shari’a (Islamic law) within
local contexts, proposing that Islamic law continues to be of particular
importance to Muslims. In some cases, classical interpretations of the
Qur’an have resulted in a perceived incompatibility between Islam and
certain human rights norms. While Muslim states have adopted various
human rights and other conventions that have been developed as part of
modern international norms, they have not necessarily been accepted on
an Islamic basis or as part of contemporary Islamic legal thought.
Unlike Dorraj, who sees a neutral role for Islamic faith insofar as
advancing human rights conditions are concerned, Rane allows for the
possibility of accommodation of a wide- ranging set of rights between
Islamic and Western world traditions. Rane presents an Islamically legiti-
mate methodology that synthesizes the contextualization of faith and a
dignifi ed life on the one hand and maqasid ( objective- oriented approach
to reading and interpreting the Qur’an) on the other. He posits that
when examined through the lens of context and higher objectives based
on a comprehensive, thematic, and inductive reading of the Qur’an,
extensive compatibility between modern standards of human rights and
Islam’s sacred text is evident.
Reconfi guring the debate on minority rights, Turan Kayaoglu offers a
framework that can satisfy both the demands of Muslim identity activists
who are concerned about the effects of Islamophobia and liberals who
are worried about the potential implications of hate speech regulation
on freedom of speech. Kayaoglu goes on to make a compelling case that
an international norm protecting minority religions from defamation
has signifi cant potential to contribute not only to freedom of expression
and religion but also to the political participation of religious minorities.
Kayaoglu attempts to strike a middle ground: while some normative
P r o b l e m s w i t h t h e C u r r e n t F r a m e w o r k s 25
differences between the supporters and the critics of the United Nations
Resolution “Combating Defamation of Religions” remain, shifting the
debate from free speech versus defamation of religions to a focus on the
protection of minority religions can bring Muslims and those in liberal
democracies closer. Moreover, a liberal political theory that emphasizes
multiculturalism and the needs of minorities may potentially accom-
modate government’s role in combating the defamation of minority
religions.
26 P r o b l e m s w i t h t h e C u r r e n t F r a m e w o r k s
4
C h a p t e r 1
Framing the Human Rights
Discourse: The Role of
Natural Localism and the
Power of Paradigm
L a w r e n c e D a v i d s o n
The Provincial Nature of Rights
The major thesis of this chapter is that rights are local in origin and
application and therefore not normally seen or accepted by states as natu-
ral or universal. Thus, there has always been a real- life difference between
the application of rights (which in practice is almost always a local affair)
and assertion of human rights (which can be a universal claim). One can
see this when analyzing the precedents usually cited for our contempo-
rary notion of human rights. For example, the Magna Carta (1215),
the English Bill of Rights (1689), the French Declaration of the Rights
of Man and the Citizen (1789), and the U.S. Constitution and Bill of
Rights (1791) were all, despite occasional language to the contrary, local
and specifi c in their intent and application. That is they were promul-
gated for the benefi t of some humans, and not all humans.
This conceptualization of rights in terms of groups is therefore norma-
tive, and despite occasional efforts to the contrary, remains so to this day.
That is why it has been so diffi cult to create international treaties that even
partially impose the notion of universal human rights,1 and why we witness
the frequent violation of those treaties that do exist.2 Indeed, the very exis-
tence of these treaties, such as the Geneva Conventions, was characterized
28 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
as “obsolete” and “quaint” by President George W. Bush’s White House
Counsel, Alberto Gonzales, in 2004.3 Such people, now referred to as
neoconservatives, insist on the proposition that only the nation- state can
“best guarantee peace and respect for human rights” because there is an
explicit connection of rights and organized groups within states.4
The Phenomenon of Natural Localism
Why would rights be persistently thought of as locally acquired and
applicable? One contributing factor is a phenomenon I call natural
localism. Under normal conditions, most people will naturally focus
on their local environment. On a day- to- day basis, it is our immediate
environment that is most important to all of us. The local environment
supplies the vast majority with their arena of work and sustenance, and is
where one fi nds friends, peer groups, and one’s immediate family circle.
To use a Darwinian formula, it is the local environment that supplies the
majority with knowledge necessary to make useful predictions, and thus
a concentration on this arena has survival value. One consequence of this
natural orientation is that interpersonal bonding is also a local affair. In
terms of human evolution it is the family, followed by the local community
that is a source of culture and identity. Rights fl ow from these cultural
roots and are bounded by community identity. So strong can that identity
become that it operates like an ideology defi ning the nature of reality.
While there are rational reasons for people to concentrate their inter-
est and knowledge on their immediate environment, there are also dan-
gers inherent in this provincialism. “Tuning out the rest of the globe,”5
as Alkman Granitsas puts it, and concentrating on one’s locality means
that most of us live either in ignorance or often with stereotyped and
generalized, untested perceptions about what is going on beyond the
proverbial next hill. This can result in a sense of insecurity that, under the
right circumstances, can be transformed into anger and aggression.
The ignorance about things beyond the community also, by necessity,
causes a large number of citizens to rely on others who, it is popularly
assumed, know what is going on beyond the local realm. These others:
government offi cials, news reporters and “pundits,” religious leaders,
and other “reliable experts” may or may not have vested interests that
lead them to present a biased picture of events from afar. In either case,
it is this limited category of “opinion makers” who are almost automati-
cally sought out by the mainstream media to produce the interpretations
upon which locally bound citizens rely in order to make sense of nonlocal
events. Thus a general ignorance of outside events leads to the citizens’
dependence on media- edited news and “establishment” experts.
The result of this situation is often the creation of a “Closed Infor-
mation Environment.” After all, media that automatically relies on
F r a m i n g t h e H u m a n R i g h t s D i s c o u r s e 29
government offi cials and nonobjective “experts” is also often a skewed
media. In the case of the United States, which prides itself on having the
“most free media in the world,” information fl ows to the public from
for- profi t businesses owned by individuals and corporations supportive of
(or at least responsive to) the very same interest groups that shape often
rights- violating or otherwise violent and aggressive policies. And, almost
all of news outlets have fi nancial reasons not to frighten off advertisers by
becoming associated with positions that challenge the status quo. Thus,
America’s mainstream media outlets are not ones that will usually give
the public all sides of a story. In many other countries media outlets are
simply the direct mouthpieces of the government and their job is specifi –
cally to assure public loyalty to the perceptions supported by the ruling
clique. Natural localism makes the job easier.
Therefore, unless a citizen takes the trouble to look for alternative
points of view, one is likely condemned to a “closed information environ-
ment.” However, it is yet another aspect of the provincial nature of the
citizenry that most, even when confronted with important events, will
feel no need to go searching for alternative sources of information. Most
will feel comfortable with their traditional sources—local newspapers
and news magazines, radio talk shows, and especially television. This is
simply because, unless the information supplied by the media and/or the
government is capable of being contradicted within the local environment,
most people will have no context from which to call it into question.
If this process of indoctrination, applied to events beyond one’s local
setting, is done with consistency across the media spectrum and over a
suffi cient enough time, it will produce generally similar pictures in the
heads of local, regional, or even national populations. What results is a
“thought collective.”6 Thought collectives, as the concept is used here,
are artifi cially created, community- wide, points of view that take on
added strength from the fact that most people shape their opinions to
coincide with those of others around them. People want to fi t into their
community and sharing outlooks is an important aspect of this. Once
the shared perspective is in place, there is a natural tendency to rein-
force it by seeking out information that supports it. Ultimately, thought
collectives can move populations to action based on fi rmly implanted
assumptions that, in turn, are often based on stereotypes, buzz words,
and unanalyzed assertions.
How do the above considerations impact the way people approach
the issue of rights? Natural localism reinforces the group orientation of
rights and the assumption that rights are tied to local culture and tradi-
tion. In other words, rights fl ow from and are a possession of the com-
munity. Natural localism, massaged by often manipulative leaders and an
elite- controlled information process, will determine just how people will
extend or not extend the notion of rights to those beyond the group.
30 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
Of course, the notion of group (and also the notion of localism) can itself
broaden over time. The classical description of this has the broadening
going from family to clan to tribe to state and so on. Nonetheless, the
inherently restricted nature of both our group and our localism creates a
precarious setting that functions to produce historically aggressive coun-
terclaims to the notion of universally applicable human rights.
In the modern era, it is the boundaries of the nation- state that serve as
the boundaries of rights as well. Despite the efforts of those who promote
human rights, it is the nation- state that, for the vast majority of people,
represents the broadest notion of community we presently have. Rights,
therefore, are citizen- based. Noncitizens within the nation- state usually
have restricted rights or no rights at all. And, if one lives under a harsh
dictatorship the very concept of rights might be so severely restricted as
to become almost meaningless. While certainly not in the same category
as dictatorships, democratic countries have their own failings when it
comes to awarding and denying rights. Democratic countries of the West
are based on a concept of social contract that creates a special, histori-
cally evolved, inclusive sense of community identity for everyone within
a territorially based state.7 But this inclusiveness goes only so far. Take,
for instance, the United States. Under conditions of manipulated fear
the United States has suspended habeas corpus, jailed suspects indefi –
nitely, deported people without a hearing, and thrown privacy rights to
the wind. These suspensions of rights did not begin with the so- called
war on terror. They began with the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798 and
have been periodically repeated throughout the country’s history. If one
moves in any direction on the globe and looks at the historical behavior
of democracies one will fi nd similar conditions occurring in a cyclical
fashion. All of these nations, given enough tension and fear, exhibit epi-
sodes of what Robert Hofstadter has called paranoid politics.8 In all these
cases it is resident minorities groups or aliens that are at most risk.
Two Middle East–Related Examples
of Provincial Nature of Rights
There is no lack of group- based struggle for rights in the Middle East.
This is because in a majority of countries in the region rights are given
or denied, at least in part, on the basis of ethnic, religious, or ideological
grounds. Even in those countries with democratic aspirations this is the
case. Thus, in newly “democratic” Iraq, rights are contested by Kurds
vs. Arabs and Sunnis vs. Shia. In Lebanon, there is a multilevel contest
for rights between Christians and Muslims, with the Christians further
divided between Maronities and Orthodox Christians, and Muslims
further divided among Sunnis and Shia. Then one can add in the
F r a m i n g t h e H u m a n R i g h t s D i s c o u r s e 31
Druzes. In Turkey rights are contested by Turks vs. Kurds. In all cases the
key to the possession of rights is control of the nation- state. And then,
there is Israel.
I. Israel and the Issue of Rights
More than any other country in the Middle East, the “democracy” of
Israel distributes rights according to group membership. At fi rst it might
seem odd that those who have taken it upon themselves to defend Israel
before the world absolutely refuse to admit this obvious fact. After all, is
it not an a priori fact that Israel is a Jewish state? As the “law of return”
testifi es, all Jews worldwide, and only the Jews, are virtual citizens of the
Israel. This despite the fact that a good number of world Jewry chooses
not to live in Israel. The Jewish National Fund holds 92 percent of the
nation’s land in trust for the use of the Jewish people. One can safely assume
that all the discriminatory policies that are directed against the Palestin-
ians stem fi rst and foremost from this obsessive drive to make Israel and
to maintain it as a Jewish state. Why then should anyone, much less the
Zionists themselves, deny that political, economic, and social rights in
Israel are accorded fi rst and foremost to Jews?
Nonetheless, if one peruses the website of the major American Zionist
organization, the Jewish Virtual Library, under the subheading “Myths
and Facts Online—Human Rights in Israel and the Territories,” one will
fi nd page after page of claims such as “Israel is one of the most open
societies in the world” and therefore does not discriminate against its
Arab citizens. Although Israel is a Jewish state it has no state religion. It
is governed by the rule of law established by an elected parliament. Israel
does not act abusively toward Palestinians, even those in prison and sus-
pected of terrorism. Such behavior as torture was forbidden by the Israeli
Supreme Court in 1999. Israel does not seek to deny the Palestinians
in the Occupied Territories of their political rights, nor has it created a
humanitarian crisis for them. And on it goes.9
Why should most Zionists in Israel and the Diaspora be so determined
to deny what is increasingly obvious to others? The answer is twofold.
First, historically it is the Jews, or more accurately the Jews of the West,
who have suffered the most from the assigning of rights based on group
membership. Prior to the Napoleonic conquests, Europe’s Jews, as a
people, were mostly restricted to ghettos and, further east, to the Russian
Pale. When Hitler took power in Germany the Jews were persecuted as a
collectivity. In other words, anti- Semitism manifested itself by the denial
of rights to the Jews as a group. Now the Israeli Jews, with the support of
large numbers of the Diaspora Zionists both Jewish and Christian, deny
rights to the Palestinians as a group. The Israeli government essentially
32 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
ghettoizes many of the Palestinians both in Israel and in the Occupied
Territories. The cognitive dissonance that this can cause has to be held off
somehow. So, many Zionists just deny it is happening, while others will
rationalize it as necessary. Thus, the proclamation that the Palestinians
want to destroy the Jewish state and so, the denial of rights is an unfor-
tunate self- defense policy forced upon Israel by its adversaries.
The second reason is complementary to the fi rst. It makes no differ-
ence if the Zionists claim that Israel is one of the most open societies
in the world. Just as it makes no difference if Americans claim that
the United States has the freest press in the world. Natural localism
means that a majority of citizens have fi rst- hand information about the
nature of their world only within the spacial and temporal boundaries of
their immediate locales. Beyond that they are likely to exist in a closed
information environment that creates story line explanations for what
is happening beyond the proverbial next hill. Freedom and openness
only means that one is at liberty to search for alternative explanations if
one wants to. But the fact is that most people do not bother to do this.
In fact, most people are not conscious of any need to do so. Thus, in
both Israel and the United States, and elsewhere too, politicians, media
executives and other representatives of the “power elite” can maintain a
story line that fi ts into the prevailing stereotypes and biases of the com-
munity, particularly when dealing with alleged enemies. In other words,
information is self- censored to preserve and strengthen the prevailing
thought collective. For the Israelis the all- important story line is (1) the
right to and necessity of maintaining a Jewish state, (2) the notion that
the Palestinians seek to destroy it, and (3) therefore the unfortunate need
of Israel to deny the Palestinian rights. These are the primary elements
of the Zionist story line about rights that feed into the prevailing Israeli
thought collective.
There is, of course, something deeply illusionary about this aspect
of the Israeli thought collective. In practice, the capacity of the Palestin-
ians to actually destroy Israel is just about nonexistent. Therefore, in
reality, it cannot be Palestinian actions alone that threaten Israelis. More
importantly, it is the Palestinian mind- set that denies the legitimacy of
Israel, labels Israeli actions as persecution, and refl ects the determination
to resist oppression. Because the Palestinian condition is representative
of the human condition for many people, I choose the following quote
from the Irish nationalist Roger Casement (executed by the British for
treason in 1918) to best characterize it:
Where all your rights become only an accumulated wrong; Where men
must beg with bated breath for leave to subsist in their own land, to think
their own thoughts, to sing their own songs, to garner the fruits of their
own labors, . . . then surely it is a braver, and saner and truer thing, to be
F r a m i n g t h e H u m a n R i g h t s D i s c o u r s e 33
a rebel in act and deed against such circumstances as these than tamely to
accept it as the natural lot of men.10
It is the persistent resistance of the Palestinians that threatens the myths of
the Israeli thought collective. That is, it threatens the self- image of Israel
and its Zionist supporters worldwide. The Palestinian mind- set accuses
Israel of being a product of a racist, militarist society. In clinical terms,
Israel is accused of being the product of a “battered child syndrome.”
Having been historically conditioned by being battered by anti- Semitism,
the Israeli Jews turn around and now batter the Palestinians.
“Not so,” say the Zionists. It is the Palestinians who are in fact the
epitome of latter day Nazis. “We allowed the original Nazis to drag us
off to the concentration camps in the 1930 and 40s. We will not allow
these modern Nazis to attempt to destroy us again.” Thus, the motto,
“never again” becomes operative in destroying Palestinian resistance to
Israeli colonization and ethnic cleansing. This being the case, the Israelis
and their supporters will do what they must to protect themselves against
Palestinian violence (resistance) and, if necessary, expel the Palestinians
(ethically cleanse them) from the land of Israel (Palestine). For the Israelis
this has been metamorphosed into a matter of self- defense. The Palestin-
ians have forced them to behave as they do.
In the meantime it is easy for the Palestinians to see, and document,
the consequences of Israel’s group- based denial of rights. Much of this
evidence has been documented by the Palestinian Center for Human
Rights (http:www.pchrgaza.org/index.htm). The Israelis dismiss any
evidence provided by their enemies, but that evidence is substantiated by
multiple independent sources. For instance, evidence of the systematic,
group- based denial of rights to Palestinians is given by Human Rights
Watch (http:www.hrw.org/en/middle-east/n-africa) and by the United
Nation Relief and Works Agency (http://www.un.org/unrwa). The
Zionists charge these organizations with bias. Yet, in Israel too there is a
minority of Jewish citizens who have escaped the society’s thought col-
lective and are no longer subject to its closed information environment.
Thus, those who represent B’TSelem, The Israel Information Center for
Human Rights in the Occupied Territories (www.btselem.org/english/
statistics/Index.asp), The Association for Civil Rights in Israel (www.acri.
org.il/eng), and others as well have been able to document the fact that
“Arab citizens of Israel face entrenched discrimination in all fi elds of life.
In recent years the prevalent attitude of hostility and mistrust toward Arab
citizens has become pronounced with large sections of the Israeli public
viewing the Arab minority as both a fi fth column and a demographic
threat.”11 The Association for Civil Rights in Israel also has the answer
to the apparent contradiction between the reality of group- based denial
of rights and the Zionist assertion that Israel is guided, in the Western
34 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
style, by the rule of law. ACRI has documented the fact that, more often
than not, the Israeli police and security forces simply do not enforce the
few laws that might protect the Palestinians.12 This makes today’s Israel
a democracy in the same way that the American South was a democracy
for African- Americans prior to the Civil Rights Acts of the 1960s.
Israel is the most notable denier of equal rights in the Middle East and
the situation is made all the worst by the fact that practices approaching
ethnic cleansing and cultural genocide are being carried out by a people
who, in their recent history have suffered both. Nonetheless, there are
other Middle East cases of the assignment and denial of rights based on
group identity. They aren’t as drastic or tragic as the Israeli case, but they
exist. One such case is found in Saudi Arabia.
II. Saudi Arabia and the Issue of Rights
The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia has a population of roughly 27.5 million
people (fi gures are as of 2007) one- third of which are noncitizens. These
are foreign nationals who have small chance of ever gaining citizenship.13
This exclusion includes foreigners who are Muslims as well as those,
Muslim or not, who have resided in the country for generations. Thus,
noncitizens who happen to be born in the country do not automatically
become citizens. The differential in terms of rights is great and foreign
residents are sometimes segregated from the indigenous population.
However, they are not persecuted as is the case of Palestinian Arabs
under Israeli control. Indeed, foreigners are resident in Saudi Arabia
mostly in hope of enjoying an improved level of economic well- being.
Nonetheless, the aim of restrictions on citizenship and the restriction on
full rights are the same in both cases. That is, to shape and control the
demographic and cultural landscape for the benefi t of one well defi ned
group. This means encouraging the provincial outlook that fl ows from
natural localism, setting your group off from other groups and seeing
them as, at the very least, cultural threats. Some other Arab Gulf states
operate similarly.
The Power of the Human Rights Paradigm
The cultivation of natural localness, closed information environments and
thought collectives, all profoundly associated with the modern nation-
state, renders true Hannah Arendt’s observations that up until recently,
our world “found nothing sacred in the abstract nakedness of being
human.”14 If that is true, then what hope can we place in the victory of
human rights? Arendt concludes the following, “The right to have rights,
or the right of every individual to belong to humanity, should be guaran-
teed by humanity itself. It is by no means certain this is possible.”15
F r a m i n g t h e H u m a n R i g h t s D i s c o u r s e 35
The uncertain effort to overcome the natural localness of rights and
establish truly international humanitarian law has been going on for about
a century and a half (if we are to date the process from the fi rst Geneva
Conventions set forth in 1864). However, it is only since the end of World
War II that human rights have begun to be an infl uential paradigm—a
conceptual framework for overcoming the worst aspects of nation- state
behavior. Why is this so? An answer can be suggested at least in terms of
the contemporary West. And that has to do with the Holocaust. It is the
Holocaust that created a truly epoch- altering, existential shock to the West-
ern state system. Why did it take so long for Western civilization to see the
practice of genocide as a manifest danger to itself? It might very well be that
World War II and its death camps, where the technology of modernity that
so characterized European civilization was turned to the mass killing of sub-
sets of the Europeans themselves, was just too shocking to rationalize away.
In other words, Europeans would not take the issue of genocide (and con-
comitantly transnational rights) seriously as long as it did not impact their
own local lives. As long as the victims of genocide were non- Europeans no
serious offi cial attention was paid to such organized slaughter. This was so
even when, as in the colonies, the perpetrators were agents of the West.
Distant geography and myriad rationalizations that ranged from the racial
inferiority of the victims to the manifest destiny of the imperialists and
even the sanctifi cation of a supposed superior religion, suffi ced to bury the
issue. However, by the 1930s the Nazis had, in effect, brought the racial
stereotyping and prejudice that had made possible colonial slaughter back
home to Europe. By inventing the Aryan race and designating its primary
area of activity to be Europe itself, the Nazis came to see not just the non-
Western world but Europe too as a land full of inferior peoples to be bullied,
enslaved, and murdered for the benefi t of a superior people with its own
overweening locally produced ideological view of things. If, under this new
order, the Jews were to be slaughtered, then the Poles and the Russians
were to be enslaved. And what of Western Europeans such as the French?
Well, ultimately, they were to be treated by the Nazis in the same manner
as the French themselves had treated the native Algerians. Upon the defeat
of the “master race” in 1945, the populations of the West were suffi ciently
shocked by all of this that they recognized there were important lessons to
be learned from Nazi behavior and the Holocaust.
Still, drawing the proper lessons was not automatic: it took a conscious
and concerted effort to present the lessons in ways that would lead to
treaty- based, legal prohibitions on genocide. If you will, a law asserting
the transnational human right of ethnic group existence. Much of this
effort was put forth by the idealistic and cosmopolitan Polish Jewish
jurist Raphael Lemkin. It is he who helped the Western nations take a big
step toward institutionalizing human rights as a way of reining in their
genocidal impulses.
36 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
Lemkin was born in 1900 in what was then Russian- controlled Polish
territory. He studied law at the University of Lvov and eventually became
a city prosecutor in Warsaw. In 1939 he left Poland as a consequence
of the Nazi invasion and made his way to the United States. Eventually
he was employed by the War Department as an expert on International
Law. During this time he wrote the book Axis Rule in Occupied Europe,
published by the Carnegie Endowment for International Peace in 1944.
In this 721-page book Lemkin sought to undermine what he considered
to be a dangerous silence in the face of the brutalization of occupied
Europe. In it he gave an exhaustive accounting of the decrees and laws
used by the Nazis to legitimize mass murder.
It was in this work that he coined the word genocide (genos � the
Greek for race or tribe and cide � the Latin for killing). In Lemkin’s
description, genocide did not necessarily require a direct use of force
to immediately destroy the victim group. It could start out, at least,
much more insidiously, as “a coordinated plan of different actions aim-
ing at . . . the disintegration of the political and social institutions, of
culture, language, national feelings, religion, and economic existence
of national groups, and the destruction of the personal security, liberty,
health, dignity . . . of the individuals belonging to such groups.”16
In this description Lemkin pointed out that genocidal actions directed
against individuals had nothing to do with their personal behavior.
They were targeted solely due to their group membership. In other
words, there was no change in behavior that could possibly ward off
the attack.
Lemkin’s efforts to generate laws against genocide took a big step
forward in the years immediately following the war. Nazi behavior had
forced Western offi cial opinion to move toward Lemkin’s position. For
instance, Justice Robert H. Jackson, the lead American prosecutor at the
Nuremberg trials, stated that the actions of the Nazi defendants were “so
calculated, so malignant, and so devastating, that civilization cannot toler-
ate their being ignored, because it cannot survive their being repeated.”17
Yet Jackson went on to qualify his words by stating, “We think that it is
justifi able that we . . . attempt to bring retribution to individuals or to
states only because the concentration camps . . . were in pursuance of a
common plan or enterprise of making an unjust or illegal war. . . . ”18
And, in fact, no conviction of a Nazi criminal was achieved for any action
taken prior to the outbreak of World War II (September 1, 1939). Still,
it was during the immediate postwar period that Lemkin would be able
to separate the crime of genocide from the notion of an unjust war and
therefore achieve a partial limitation to national sovereignty’s ability to
act as a cover for genocidal atrocities.
The United Nations met at Lake Success, New York, in October
1946 and Lemkin was there. He sensed that the time was fi nally right for
F r a m i n g t h e H u m a n R i g h t s D i s c o u r s e 37
him to begin an intensive lobbying campaign for a genocide treaty. As a
consequence, on December 11, 1946, the General Assembly resolved
that genocide was “an international crime and that a treaty should be
drawn up” making the designation legally binding. Genocide was defi ned
as “a denial of the right of existence of entire human groups, as homicide
is the denial of the right to live of individual human beings.”19 Then, on
December 9, 1948, the vote was taken that transformed intention into
reality. On that day the Convention on the Prevention and Punishment
of the Crime of Genocide was passed. It should be noted that the next
day, December 10, the General Assembly proclaimed the Universal Decla-
ration of Human Rights.
Lemkin was happy to get the treaty. It separated the act of genocide
from the act of war and specifi cally recognized that it could occur in
peace time. It made those charged with genocide subject to extradition
thus making it harder to run from justice. And, it broadened culpability
to include actions taken with the “intent to destroy, in whole or in part,
a national, ethnic, racial or religious group.”20 Yet when all was said and
done, Lemkin understood that this was only a beginning. Many other
crimes and violations of human rights, deserved to be outlawed at the
international level. In addition, as we will see, Lemkin’s achievement
would prove to be a precarious one.
An Unexpected Threat to the Human
Rights Paradigm
As it is described above, the factor that pushed the West into a path of
marginally restricting national sovereignty and thereby opening legal
space for transnational human rights law was the experience of the Holo-
caust. Thus, support for human rights is connected to the memory of
and attitude toward this seminal historical event. To the extent that the
memory of that event fades with time, or is otherwise compromised, sup-
port for human rights is potentially jeopardized.
Unfortunately this may in fact be happening. And, ironically, the
source of this problem lies once more with Israel and its Zionist support-
ers. For most of the world’s Jews the ultimate justifi cation of Israel’s exis-
tence lay with the history of anti- Semitism culminating in the Holocaust.
There is some justifi cation for this, for the Holocaust was the ultimate
fate of stateless people (primarily Ashkenazim or European Jews)—
people, as Arendt put it, denied the right to have rights. It was the logi-
cal conclusion of the Zionists that if the Jews were to have any future at
all, they had to have a secure guarantor of group rights and for that they
would need a state of their own.21 Therefore, it was probably inevitable
that that state would then be seen by most Jews, for an indefi nite future,
as a bulwark against anti- Semitism in general and, in particular, any
38 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
new Holocaust.22 Inevitable perhaps, but unfortunate. For, in adopting
this point of view, the Zionists transformed a catastrophe of universal
importance, in that it symbolized the extreme inhumanity that natural
localism (manifested as the Nazi ideology) can result in, into an axiom
of another natural localism (that manifested by Zionist ideology). Add to
this their tireless justifi cation of all Israeli behavior in terms of preventing
another Holocaust and you get the conditions that have led many, mostly
non- Western peoples, to become skeptical of the historical validity of the
Holocaust itself—that is, skeptical of the greatest historical manifestation
of the need for institutionalized transnational human rights.
Thus, it is the Zionist use of the Holocaust as a justifi cation of their
own behavior that has led their adversaries, such as the Iranian leader
Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to call the Holocaust into question, and millions
of anti- Zionists, particularly Muslims, to take this seriously. As such,
the Zionists have done the cause of human rights a great disservice.
Obviously, the establishment of a universal “right to rights” is not their
program. Such an assertion of a universal claim to rights would certainly
have to be shared with the Palestinians. The Zionist program, however,
is every bit a local, nationalist one.
Conclusion
From the point of historical practice, there is no such thing as a priori
human rights. That is why Jean Jacques Rousseau could look around him
in 1762 and marvel at the fact that, while people are allegedly born with
natural rights, they appeared to be “everywhere in irons.”23 Historically
all rights have local origins and have been shaped by the customs and
traditions of particular groups. That is, rights are customized by natural
localism. In addition, the provincial nature of human life has opened
the notion of rights to manipulation by power elites who control local,
regional and/or state information environments and thereby can construct
thought collectives that lead to deep and persistent discrimination.
As long as the consequences of this reality led to the persecution of
marginalized subgroups, such as the Jews, or semigenocides and massacres
against distant peoples of relatively limited numbers such as the Arme-
nians, the situation pertaining to rights saw little change. Even the mass
murders and enslavements of colonial times did not move the majority
of Western leaders (the power elites of the modern age) or the Western
peoples they ruled (whose perceptions were the product of closed infor-
mation environments) to reexamine the notion of rights. Only the disaster
of Nazi rule tripped a balance. Only when the Nazis brought genocide
and mass murder into the heartland of Europe and spread these practices
beyond the German borders did the leaders of the West and their respec-
tive populations come to a reluctant conclusion that some restriction on
F r a m i n g t h e H u m a n R i g h t s D i s c o u r s e 39
the concept of national sovereignty had to be instituted. The result was
the successful campaign of Raphael Lemkin for the Convention on the
Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, which was soon
followed by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.
While these measures are certainly great steps forward, and have
been complemented with the creation of the International Criminal
Court, they have not resulted in worldwide respect for human rights.
As the cases addressed above, particularly that of Israel, demonstrate,
human rights are regularly violated by both democratic states and non-
democratic states. In part, this is because natural localism is a constant
of the human condition. For all the talk of globalism, people still live
primarily within localized areas that are their hometowns and neighbor-
hoods. Within those areas, they can usually make valid judgments based
on experience. Beyond them, things become more shadowy and people
must rely on others who claim valid knowledge of those nonlocal realms.
This opens the majority of any given population to the manipulation of
information environments and the creation of thought collectives.
The conclusion drawn from this sociohistorical situation is that human-
kind is involved in a very long- term struggle to spread out the defi nition
of who has the “right to have rights.” The goal is to bestow rights on all
people by virtue of their humanity rather than by virtue of membership in
this or that family, clan, tribe, religion, or nation- state. However, because
of the still exceedingly stubborn and powerful counterforces of natural
localism, mostly in the forms of nationality and national sovereignty, the
struggle is far from won. And, it is very worrisome that steps advancing
the cause of human rights usually come only as the result of instances of
catastrophic denial of rights leading to slaughter and mayhem.
Yet this is the reality of our age. There are no “natural rights.” Human
rights do not descend down to us from the heavens. They are products
of our own making and we distribute them as we see fi t. The goal of dis-
tributing them to all is, as Hannah Arendt told us, the business of all of
humanity. Unfortunately, thanks to natural localism, closed information
environments and thought collectives that are exclusive rather than inclu-
sive, a lot of humanity does not want to extend rights in a universal man-
ner. Thus, those that do must struggle constantly, without let up. To cease
to struggle means that there will always be those who do not have the right
to have rights, those who do not have the right to be human beings.
Notes
1. See, for example, the short description of the struggle of Raphael Lemkin
to achieve an international genocide treaty in Dan Eshet, Totally
Unoffi cial: Raphael Lemkin and the Genocide Convention (Facing History
and Ourselves Foundation, 2007).
40 L aw r e n c e Dav i d s o n
2. See the information provided by Human Rights Watch at www.hrw.org.
Accessed on August 9, 2011.
3. “Memorandum on the Geneva Conventions,” on the web at www.
americanprogress.org/issues/kfi les/b79532.html. Accessed on August 9,
2011.
4. See Roger Scruton, The Need for Nations (Civitas, Folsom California,
2004), p. 1.
5. Alkman Granitsas, “Americans Are Tuning Out the World,” Yale On Line
(11/24/05) http://yaleglobal.yale.edu/article.print?id=6553. Accessed
August 9, 2011.
6. This term was fi rst used by Ludwik Fleck to describe a socially determined
collective approach to scientifi c research. See his book The Genesis and
Development of a Scientifi c Fact (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press,
1979). My usage of the term is considerably broader.
7. See an analysis of the work of Roger Scruton entitled, “Is the Nation
Obsolete,” at www.brusselsjournal.com/node/1101. Accessed on August
9, 2011.
8. Richard Hofstadter, “The Paranoid Style in American Politics,” Harper’s
Magazine (November 1964), pp. 77–86.
9. Http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/myths/mf18.html.
Accessed on August 9, 2011.
10. Statement made at the conclusion of his trial, London, June 29, 1916.
11. http://www.acri.org.il/eng/story.aspx?id=499. Accessed on August 9,
2011.
12. See (1) http://www.acri.org.il/eng/aspx?id=577 and (2) http://www.
acri.org.il/eng/aspx?id=547. Accessed on August 9, 2011.
13. The restriction is even greater in Kuwait where among a population of
some 3.5 million only 1.5 million are citizens.
14. Peter Baehr, ed., The Portable Hannah Arendt (Harmondsworth, UK:
Penguin Books, 2000), p. 31.
15. Ibid., p. 39.
16. Ibid., p. 20.
17. Ibid., p. 29.
18. Ibid., p. 30.
19. Ibid., p. 35.
20. Ibid., p. 36.
21. The idea that Israel is a product of the Holocaust is incomplete at best.
Zionism predates the Holocaust, as does anti- Semitism. It can be reason-
ably argued that Israel would have eventually been established even if
there had been no Holocaust. Nonetheless, it is accurate to assert that the
Holocaust has taken center stage in the minds of Zionists as a justifi cation
for Israel and its questionable behaviors.
22. At the Yad Vashem memorial in Israel a “Pillar of Heroism” was erected
following the 1967 Six Day War. The pillar represents the belief that that
war was “the antithesis of the Holocaust.” See http://www.jewishvirtual
library.org/jsource/Holocaust/israelmons.html. Accessed 9 August 2011.
23. Jean Jacques Rousseau, Social Contract, Book 1, Chapter 1. Pacifi c Pub-
lishing Studio, Seattle, Washington, 2010.
4
C h a p t e r 2
Isl am and Human Rights:
Ideals and Practices
M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
The debate over compatibility of Islam and human rights has raged
among theologians, scholars, intellectuals, and the public at large for
generations in the Muslim World as well as in the West. This discourse,
however, has become more intense since the proclamation of 1948
United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR). That
declaration pronounced that all human beings are born free and are equal
in dignity and rights.1 Article 2 of the UDHR stipulates: “Everyone
is entitled to all the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration,
without distinction of any kind, such as race, color, sex, language, reli-
gion, political or other opinion, national or social origin, property, birth
or other status.” The rights entailed in the UDHR are indivisible and
inalienable and include wide- ranging civil- political, as well as economic,
social, and cultural rights. These universal rights include such rights as to
life, liberty, and security of person; freedom from slavery and servitude;
freedom from arbitrary arrest, detention, or exile; freedom of thought,
conscience, and religion; freedom of opinion and expression; right to
education; right to work; right to a nationality; and right to own prop-
erty. According to the UDHR, all people are entitled to these rights by
virtue of their humanity.
In other words, these rights are “independent of obligations, unde-
fi ned by role and unconditional on status or circumstances. Rights are
legitimate claims or entitlements and as such they imply corresponding
duties. . . . Since human rights are inalienable they constitute the start-
ing point for political morality in any human society that purports to
42 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
respect them. Collective or group rights are meaningless if they imply the
disregard of individual rights.”2
The fact that much of the Muslim World has proven to be inhospitable
to democracy and human rights in twentieth and twenty- fi rst centuries
has fueled the presumption that violation of human rights is rooted in
Islamic culture in general and in Islam n particular. In this chapter, we
would address the complexities and the nuances surrounding the vexing
question of compatibility and would discuss the contending perspectives
on the issue, concluding with some observations on theoretical implica-
tions of the debate. However, since many Islamists who oppose human
rights do so under the pretext of cultural authenticity, arguing that
human rights are embedded in Western cultural experience and as such
their implementation would compromise the creation of an ideal Islamic
society, we must fi rst address the issue of Cultural relativism.
The Dilemmas of Cultural Relativism
Human rights by defi nition are universal—applied to all human beings at
all times in all places. As stated at the 1993 World Conference on Human
Rights in Vienna, “their protection and promotion is the fi rst responsibility
of governments.”3 Yet, since states can choose to not sign an international
human rights treaty, and to impose restrictions on the implementation of
these treaties within their borders, it seems much more likely that human
rights are relative in acceptance rather than universal.
A core of humanness links every human being, whether it is through
common experience, common ideas of evil, or common ideas of good.
Human rights, according to this standpoint, are not relative but universal.
Such rights as right to life, to justice and fair treatment, to aid, to freedom
from arbitrary repression of a lawless state are universal. Without protec-
tion of such rights, the social contract between the ruler and the ruled,
the government and citizens become meaningless. People may not agree
about what makes something good but they agree that it is good.4 While
good and evil may be defi ned differently in variant cultures, a predisposi-
tion toward good and aversion toward evil is something that cuts across
cultures. As Michael Perry has observed, “There is nothing culture- bound
in the great evils of human experience, reaffi rmed in every age and in
every written history and in every great tragedy and fi ction: murder and
destruction of life, property, imprisonment, enslavement, starvation,
physical pain and torture, homelessness, friendlessness.”5 Without human
rights, citizens have no stand in the political system and become dispens-
able subjects.
Despite the universality of human rights discussed above, there are dif-
ferent categories and concepts of human rights. First is the so- called fi rst
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 43
generation of rights. These are civil and democratic rights often associated
with individualism and individual rights, pervasive in many Western
societies. The second generation of rights refers to socioeconomic rights,
rights to a decent living and freedom from hunger and abject poverty
and access to basic necessities of life. These rights are considered to be
more relevant in the Third World. The third generation of rights refers to
such rights as protection of environment, species, and animals, as well as
the right to peace and humanitarian intervention. Because of pervasive-
ness of poverty and malnutrition in many parts of the developing world,
these rights are not perceived as salient by many who live in those coun-
tries. In general, the West has traditionally emphasized political rights
whereas the non- Western world has been preoccupied with social and
economic rights. Thus, the right to survival and well- being has taken
precedence over basic freedoms associated with civil- political rights.6
Increasingly, however, this dichotomy has proven false given that living
in a globalizing age has made that distinction virtually useless.
In addition to desperate notions of human rights, there is also the
assertion that the predominant ideas of human rights have their origins
in intellectual and cultural experience of the West. More specifi cally, it is
a by- product of Western Renaissance, rationalism, humanism, individual-
ism, and enlightenment. Hence, since historically international human
rights law is derived from Western legal heritage, it is not deemed relevant
to the historical experience of the non- Western world where individualism
and individual rights are not paramount on the list of social priorities. The
case is also made that since human rights seem to thrive in democratic
societies, we should not expect their implementation in nondemocratic
ones. The advocates of such nativist perspectives in the developing world
often wrap their arguments against universal application of human rights
in fl ags of nationalism or claims of Western cultural imperialism. While
human rights are universal, their implementation takes place at national
and local levels. Thus the opponents of universality of human rights use
the pretext of cultural exceptionalism or religious sanctity and specifi city
and even cultural rights and cultural autonomy to refute it.7 The detrac-
tors of human rights in the Muslim World argue that its observance
would lead to decline of morality, ushering in decadence and the decline
of cultural authenticity. Through a reactive rhetoric, they shift the atten-
tion from human rights as an entitlement against possible abuse of power
by the state to a right of state to safeguard cultural and religious identity
against the West.8 Such cultural relativist arguments often discard the
fact that while the origin of human rights is Western, its ethical and legal
claims are universal.
Western ideas of individualism, individual freedoms, and the separa-
tion of religion and politics often lack resonance in some non- Western
44 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
societies such as Islamic, Hindu, Buddhist, and Confucian cultures.
For the purposes of this chapter, we shall focus on the tension between
Western ideas of human rights and Islamic societies.
Islam and Human Rights: Muslim
Traditionalists vs. Muslim Modernists
Due to the fact that all the independent human rights monitors list the
Arab World among the globe’s worst violators of human rights in the past
century,9 questions have emerged if pervasiveness of political authoritari-
anism, police states, and violation of democratic rights in the region are
due to predominance of Islamic culture and religion. When the question
of compatibility of Islam and human rights is raised, however, one should
ask which Islam, who is interpreting it, in what historical and social con-
text, and for what purpose. In other words, the understanding of Islamic
texts must be accompanied with an understanding of the context as the
understanding of deeds done under the name of Islam must be put in a
broader social context that animates such modes of behavior. Hence, the
immense diversity that defi nes the Muslim World must also be taken into
account. Without it our knowledge and assessment of Islam is incomplete
and superfi cial.
Scholars, the lay intellectuals, the clergy, and the public at large in
both the Muslim World and the West differ substantially on the question
of compatibility of Islam and human rights. On one side of the divide
are those who interpret Islam in essentialist terms, as if it was a religion
frozen in time and space and devoid of social context and evolution, thus
dogmatically clinging to their own preconceptions about Islam. On the
other side of the divide are those who see Islam and its survival and
viability since its inception in the seventh century inseparably linked to
its ability to transform through Ijtihad and reinterpretation and remain
relevant to the lives of many Muslims in the modern times.
The advocates of incompatibility of Islam and human rights, in whose
ranks Muslim traditionalists fi gure prominently, argue that in orthodox
Islam God is the ultimate sovereign and the granter of rights, any human-
conceived notion of right by nature is inferior and would lead to Muslims
deviating from the righteous path. Since the word Islam means “submis-
sion,” and one must submit to the will of God, the only legitimate law
is the one based on Islamic law and derived from the Shari’a. Because of
Shari’a’s divine inspiration, it is superior to any fallible human reason and
notion of law and because the pious clerical leaders represent God’s will,
by defi nition, they are just.10
In the totalizing and totalitarian interpretation of Islam, the Shari’a
should govern all aspects of a Muslim’s life. Since some of its principles
and edicts are deemed as permanently valid, there are limitations on its
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 45
reinterpretation. Thus, any alternative interpretation of law, including
secular law, is shunned. At times such hostilities to democratic principles,
human rights, and democracy assumes a blatant character. Ali Belhadj, one
of the contemporary leaders of Islamist movement in Algeria, makes this
very explicit: “Beware of those who pretend that the concept of democracy
exists in Islam . . . democracy is Kofr (blasphemy). . . . There is no democ-
racy because the sole source of power is Allah, through the Qur’an and not
the people. If people vote against the law of God, this is nothing but blas-
phemy. In this case, one must kill these non- believers for the good reason
that they want to substitute their authority to the authority of God.”11
In addition, traditionalists divide the society into Dar al Islam and
Dar al Harb (the realm of Islam and the realm of nonbelievers, the
realm of war). Believers are worthy of protection and nonbelievers are
not. As such, Islam discriminates between believers and nonbelievers and
is unable to accommodate one of the basic principles of human rights,
freedom of religion. Muslim traditionalists regard disseminations of other
religions within Muslim territories and the conversion of Muslims to
other religions as “crimes” (apostasy), which are punishable by death.
Saudi Arabia’s abstention, for example, from voting on ratifi cation of the
Universal Declaration of Human Rights was done on the grounds that
it found the Articles 16 and 18 that establish freedom of thought and
religion, including the right to change one’s religion objectionable.12
Hence, Muslim traditionalists regard men and women as unequal and
discriminate against women, thus violating another cardinal principle of
human rights, equality before the law and equality of gender.13 These
types of backward- looking interpretations of Islam abound in particular
among Wahhabis and the Salafi s, (the two sects) in the contemporary
Muslim World, but by no means are they confi ned to them.
The preoccupation with Western imperial penetration and the ensuing
defensive posture of the Muslim World in the colonial and postcolonial era,
and the anxiety about Islamic identity became a major preoccupation for
Muslim intellectuals. Many of them returned to “Islamic self” to resolve
their identity crisis and to anchor themselves in what they perceived to be
their authentic culture. One of the most infl uential Muslim traditionalists
of the post–World War II era was Sayyid Qutb.
Sayyid Qutb who was infl uenced by Mawdudi of Pakistan was one of
the most signifi cant Muslim traditionalists of the 1950s and the 1960s.
He was a major theoretician of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. After
his death in Nasser’s prison in 1966, his stature was elevated as a martyr
saint and is regarded by many as the intellectual precursor of modern
day Islamic militancy and extremism. Qutb regarded Islam as a self-
contained, self- suffi cient, and a total religion, encompassing the public as
well as the private realms of life that should regulate the life of the faithful
from cradle to grave.14
46 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
Unlike Mawdudi who was sympathetic to the idea of a synthesis
between Islam and democracy, Qutb regarded all forms of popular sov-
ereignty that derives its inspiration from secular ideologies and fallible
human reason as illegitimate. But Qutb also opposed theocracies that
would be ruled by clergy who may abuse their religious authority. Since
he regarded human beings as sinful, he argued in any government that is
based on “a group of people legislating for others, equality and absolute
dignity cannot be realized.”15 Qutb was also highly critical of the Western
notion of human rights that was associated with individualism and pri-
marily focused on political and civil rights. He gave primacy to economic
rights and believed real emancipation and liberty is only possible when
one is free from hunger and disease. He makes this very explicit when he
asserts, “who will dare to claim that those millions of hungry, naked, bare-
foot peasants whose intestines are devoured by worms, whose eyes are bit-
ten by fl ies and whose bloods are sucked by insects are humans who enjoy
human dignity and human rights (as the capitalist slogan claim?). . . . Who
will dare to claim that the hundreds of thousands of disabled beggars,
who search for crumbs in garbage boxes, who are naked, barefoot, with
faces crusted with dirt . . . who will dare to say that they are the source of
authority in the nation, based on democratic election?”16
Qutb regarded an Islamic order superior to both Communism and
Capitalism. Whereas a Communist system is preoccupied with satisfac-
tion of material needs of its citizens and its atheism condemns the people
under its rule to moral depravity, Capitalism is exploitative and lacks lofty
morals. In contrast, an Islamic government would provide for the mate-
rial as well as the spiritual needs of the Umma and ensure their salvation.
Qutb also believed protecting the sanctity of Muslim community takes
precedence over individual rights.
On the other end of the divide is the Muslim modernists’ perspective
that adheres to compatibility of Islam and democracy. The advocates of
this view attempt to fi nd precedence for human rights in Islamic precepts
and principles or examples of the prophet and Imams. For example, they
argue that Islam’s insistence that every individual determines his/her
destiny, is personally responsible for his/her actions, and can commu-
nicate with God directly without the need for the priestly mediation
indicates that each individual should be treated as equal and autono-
mous, thus affi rming many individual rights.17 Hence, it is asserted that
the emphasis on Muslims living their lives according to Shari’a law is
an indication that Islam is opposed to arbitrary rule. They contend that
authority in early Islam was based on a delicate dialectic between the
ruler and the ruled in which the ruler governs through Shura (consulta-
tion) and derives his power from the community of the faithful, Umma,
through their consensus (Ijma). Other interpreters use the precept of
Ikhtilaf (difference and opposition) present in early and medieval Islam
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 47
and conclude since honoring different opinions was rooted in Islamic
history, Islam embraces pluralism. Thus, the precept of al- Huquq
al-Shar’iyya (rights stipulated in Shari’a) is used as a precedent for mod-
ern concept of human rights.18 The foundation of Shari’a is based on
certain necessities known as darruriyat al- khams that obligate Muslims
to strive to preserve their religion (al- Din), themselves (al- Nafs), reason
(al- Aql), their families (al- Nasl), and their properties (al- Mal). In so
far as the individual fulfi lls these obligations and other stipulated duties,
they are entitled to certain rights including fair treatment and to live their
lives in dignity and peace.19
Furthermore, Islamic history provides example of Muslim philosophers
such as Al- Farabi (d. 950) and Ibn Rushid (d. 1198) who shunned blind
embracement of revelations and orthodoxy, saw reason and rationalism
as a window to truth, and advocated a reasoned faith. In addition, it is
argued that pristine Islam was also concerned with economic equality; as
such, its notion of rights is broader as compared to its Western counter-
part. To prevent a rift between rich and poor, Muhammad introduced
Islamic alms (Khoms and Zakat) and charitable giving (Saddaqah). Thus,
many Muslim modernists argue that the notion of rights and equality
existed in early Islam and Muslims can fall on their own tradition to fi nd
precedence for human rights.20
Some scholars argue that in the same way that the Western notions
of civil and human rights law evolved from the divine law and the divine
rights, it is likely that human rights in the Muslim World may emerge out
of evolution in Islamic law.21 However, the dilemma many Muslim mod-
ernists face is that they are torn between the allure of ideals of Western
civil and human rights that grant individuals protection against the abuse
of power by the state and their abiding loyalty to their Islamic identity and
cultural traditions. For many modernists of the early twentieth century,
the reconciliation of these two aspirations proved to be an arduous task at
best and problematic at worst. Many Muslim modernists have criticized
secular democracy on the ground that while it values individuals and
individualism, it pays no attention to spiritual enrichment of individual.22
They assert individual rights, including human rights, should be subordi-
nated to the collective rights, such as economic and social well- being and
the welfare of the society at large. Hence, for them the interests of Islam
were more signifi cant than preserving the interests of the individual.23
Some of the contemporary Muslim modernists’ views on human
rights are more accommodating and far- reaching than of those who
lived in early twentieth century. Among them is Abdul Karim Soroush
of Iran, a philosopher and an early ideologue of the Islamic revolution
of 1979 who initially defended the absolute rule of the Jurist ( Valayat- i
Faqih), and subsequently broke with that institution and theocracy, label-
ing it as a stepping stone to religious despotism. Soroush is an advocate
48 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
of primacy of reason and freedom as the two major universal pillars of
human development. Disillusioned with the outcome of Islamic revolu-
tion in Iran, where according to him the spiritual essence of Islam was
sacrifi ced at the altar of power politics and certain layers of clergy used
religion for self- enrichment and power grab, he advocated separation of
religion and state as the only path to maintain the dignity of Islam as a
sacred faith. Soroush has called for a full- fl edged Islamic reformation as
the solution to a sense of malaise that pervades the Muslim World.
To remain viable and relevant in a postmodern world, Soroush asserts,
Islamic tradition has to be reinterpreted. Likewise, religion should not
be used to suppress democratic and human rights. Neither the pretext of
maintaining doctrinal purity nor political expediency is justifi able end to
suppress rights and liberties. To maintain their legitimacy and relevance
in the modern world, Muslim societies must democratize and protect
civil and human rights. Since God is compassionate, merciful, and just,
as vice- regents of God on earth, pursuit of social justice is a part of the
divine duty of all Muslims. Therefore, Islam must serve human welfare
and well- being and the ideal Islamic state must submit to the will of
majority.24
A new generation of Muslim scholars, such as Abdullahi Ahmed
An-Na’im, who best represent and capture modernist interpretation
of Islamic law and propose new ethical foundations tend to argue that
rights are not proclamations but social construction facilitated through
dialogue and discourse. Such discursive engagements are likely to lead
to an overlapping cultural consensus.25 On balance, however, Muslim
modernists have yet to meet the challenge of bridging Islamic law and
modern human rights standards by defi ning what is properly “universal”
and what is precisely “cultural.”26 Thus addressing ways to reconcile
Muslim countries’ domestic law and international human rights law is
the right place to start. Without sincere commitment at the top of power
structure in most Muslim majority countries, this task is immensely diffi –
cult. Ultimately, the move toward reforming Islamic laws might be more
political than religious in nature. Herein lies the greatest challenge facing
modernists in the Muslim World.
A Shade of Gray: Debating the Debate
One point of tension between Islamic law and international human rights
law is that whereas the former is based on a sacred faith, the latter is
secular in its inspiration and orientation. Some orthodox Muslims refuse
to accept principles of international human rights law because it fails to
recognize religion as a legitimate source of authority. Hence, some of
the freedoms and liberties spawned by human rights law are perceived
to be against proper moral values that Islam promotes. Thus, they deem
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 49
imposition of limitations on individual rights in order to protect public
morality as justifi ed. While they concede that Islam values human life,
they also assert that Islam stipulates that Muslims should live a good and
pious life that can only be guaranteed if they live their lives according
to Shari’a. For example, some Islamic governments curtail free expres-
sion, conferred by fi tan (sedition) in Islamic law. This gives the Muslim
governments wide latitude to suppress their political opponents and deny
them their democratic and human rights.
A problem that Muslim traditionalists who regard themselves as the
guardians of Islamic orthodoxy face is the reality that Shari’a emerged in
seventh to ninth century after the death of Muhammad and it represents
an interpretation of Muslim jurists of the time regarding the legal and
social application of the prophet’s teachings and conduct. It refl ects the
premodern customs and values. Essentially, it has not been fundamen-
tally reinterpreted since then. Therefore, many of its legal injunctions are
outdated and inapplicable in modern times.27 For example, such Hadd
punishments as the amputation of the hands of a thief or stoning to
death someone suspected of adultery is regarded by modern standards of
human rights as inhuman and cruel.28
Moreover, the traditionalists leave a number of questions unresolved.
Who would interpret the Shari’a and implement “God’s sovereignty”?
How would one safeguard against abuse of power by self- proclaimed
intermediaries between humans and God? How can God’s sovereignty
be reconciled with people’s sovereignty? How can a sacred faith that pro-
claims monopoly over the truth consent to the idea of ideological plural-
ism and the free competition in the marketplace of ideas? Can a faith be
self- suffi cient and self- contained, as the traditionalists contend, in a post-
modern world? These philosophical questions notwithstanding, in recent
years we have witnessed important political gain for Muslim traditionalists
as demonstrated by the examples of Front for Islamic Salvation’s parlia-
mentary electoral victory in Algeria in 1989–1990 and Muslim Brother-
hood’s electoral victory in the occupied territories in Palestine (HAMAS)
and their impressive political showing in Egypt. Equally impressive is the
rise to power of the Islamic Justice and Development Party in Turkey,
which used a modernist discourse and political agenda to outmaneuver
and outfl ank Turkey’s secular parties in a state with a relatively strong
secular tradition. Institutionalization of the modernist interpretation of
Islam, which is perhaps in no small part due to looming Ataturk’s secular
legacy, may partially explain the turn of events in that country. But in the
fi nal analysis the answer to the question why these political parties per-
formed so well may not lie in Islam per se, but on the failure of secular
parties to deliver on their promises.
Going beyond the preoccupation of Muslim traditionalists with
religious orthodoxy, more sober and balanced assessments of Islam
50 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
indicate that while Islam did not go through the experience of Protestant
Reformation that made religion a private matter, thus providing a reli-
gious justifi cation for the idea of individual rights, there is nothing in
Islamic history that matches the persecution of non- Christians that we
have witnessed during the Crusades, the Spanish Inquisition, the Holo-
caust and the other religiously spawned carnage. While Jews were being
confi ned to the life of Ghetto and during the Second World War many of
them were murdered in Hitler’s gas chambers, prior to the rise of state of
Israel in 1948, Jews for the most part lived peacefully in Islamic societ-
ies.29 Putting this history in proper perspective may provide some ground
for optimism in regard to compatibility of Islam and human rights.
Modernists are more likely to rely on reason rather than revelation,
rationalism rather than blind embracement of faith. They believe that the
gates of ijtihad are open and it should be utilized to renew Islam in each
epoch in order to maintain its relevance. Clearly, Islam gives precedence
to the community over the individual and regards the preservation of
Umma’s sanctity more important than individual. However, this is not a
valid argument to refute application of human rights in Islamic societies.
Although human rights enlarge the scope of individual freedom, they are
by no means individualistic. They are not meant to lead to an “atomistic
society” devoid of communitarian solidarity.30 A purely individualistic
concept of religious liberty, for instance, would almost amount to a con-
tradiction in terms, because religious life in Islam is hardly conceivable
outside of religious communities.
What is at stake in human rights is not an abstract individualism but
rather the principle of equal freedom that always affects individuals and
communities simultaneously. In fact, according to Islamic tradition, once
the duties of the individual, as stipulated by the Shari’a, are fulfi lled, then
as a rightful member of the Umma the individual is entitled to certain
rights. These rights come with certain obligations to the community
and its well- being, including commanding the good and forbidding evil.
Although the Qur’an is primarily preoccupied with the duties and the
obligations of the faithful and the language of rights is lacking in it, this
has not prevented some of the modern Muslim thinkers from the ranks
of both traditionalists and modernists to adopt its language. Hence, since
Islamic tradition contains both an egalitarian and a hierarchical element,
it can be interpreted to accommodate equal rights as well as political
authoritarianism.31
Muslim modernists take the Qur’anic phrase that “there shall be no
compulsion in religion” to mean that Islam respects religious tolerance.
Islam regards Christians and Jews as “the people of the book.” As such, they
have enjoyed certain rights as “protected minorities.” However, this has
not prevented most governments in Muslim lands (secular or religious) to
declare Islam as the state religion and deny religious minorities equal rights.
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 51
For example, interreligious marriages continue to be restricted in
accordance with traditional Shari’a law,32 even though this clearly violates
Article 16 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights that explicitly
recognizes the right to marry without any limitation due to race, nation-
ality, and religion. Hence, traditional Islam has no doctrine of human
rights and the very notion of a bill of rights would be regarded contrary
to the spirit of Shari’a in which only God has rights and Muslims have
duties and obligations. In this scheme, the moral obligation of a rightful
Muslim leader is to uphold God’s law, not be at the whim of the elector-
ate and concede to the popular will.
While some scholars regard human rights to be rooted in Judeo-
Christian ethics and Greco- Roman statecraft and law, and regard liberal
democracy as the only protector of it,33 many people in the Muslim World
regard the Western notions of human rights, its preoccupation with indi-
vidual rights and the negligence of social and economic rights as misplaced.
It is argued, West privileges the individual over the community whereas
the Muslims prefer communitarian human rights for the benefi t of the
Umma as a whole.34 They assert that since human rights are more likely to
be implemented in democratic societies, their future prospects are linked
to the success of democratization and alleviation of chronic poverty and
the lack of meaningful political participation in many parts of the Muslim
World. Since democratic political systems are more likely to promote and
protect human rights, the roots of the problem are social and political; we
must focus on the state and its policy rather than on religion.35
A Misplaced Question?
Given the disparity of perspectives on compatibility of Islam and human
rights chronicled above, and since there is no monolithic defi nition of
Islam that is shared by all the diverse groups in the Muslim World, the
real question remains: Is the categorical question of compatibility of Islam
and democracy a legitimate one? If the answer is yes, then why we should
not ask the question if Christianity is compatible with human rights? Or
for that matter, Judaism or Buddhism is compatible with human rights?
After all in many parts of Africa and Latin America where Christianity
is the majority religion there are also systematic and widespread abuses
of human rights. In case of Israel, should we then attribute the violation of
human rights of the Palestinians to Judaism? In case of Burma, should we
attribute chronic violation of human rights there to Buddhism?
The question of compatibility of Islam, democracy, and human rights
also privileges Islam and assumes its monopoly of public space. Even the
modernist Islamists who seem more sympathetic to the idea of human
rights do so only insofar as human rights conform to their perception of
Islamic morals and piety. As Anthony Chase has aptly observed, to make
52 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
Islam as the necessary basis for human rights is problematic. As he puts it,
“structurally, such an assertion—no matter how liberal or human rights
friendly the intentions—is anti pluralist insofar as it implicitly assumes an
Islamic monopoly on public sphere. Thus, as the theoretical foundation
of human rights, there is reason for skepticism. To the degree that a libe-
ral Islamic approach monopolizes the framing of the rights discourse in
the Muslim World it is likely to be, at best, unproductive. At worst, it is
potentially a harmful project in that it risks reifying the same assumptions
as political Islam, i.e., that Islam inevitably monopolizes the public sphere
and drawing from other sources is somehow irrelevant.”36
Given the prominent advocacy role, activism, and intellectual contri-
butions that secular forces have made to the human rights discourse and
its promotion throughout the Muslim World, Chase’s point is on target
and poignant. A more pertinent question before the Muslim modernists
and traditionalists who are committed to the idea of an Islamic govern-
ment to ponder is: Can Islam accept ideological pluralism and abandon
its position as a sacred faith with a monopoly on truth? Can it surrender
to popular sovereignty if it means creation of a secular government? Can
Islam regard itself as another ideology in the marketplace of ideas com-
peting on equal footing with secular forces to win hearts and minds as
the principle of pluralism connotes? Or by defi nition Islamism demands a
monopoly over the public space as Islamic theocracies in varying degrees
have demonstrated in recent years.
In addition, raising the question of compatibility misses the larger
issue that Islam is preoccupied with moral duties and obligations of the
faithful and their worldly and otherworldly salvation, human rights are
concerned with rights and freedoms that should be guaranteed to all
citizens under the law. By posing the question as such one is asking a
sacred faith to become what it is not. Even a cursory look at the human
rights record of secular authoritarian regimes throughout the Muslim
World reveals that they fare no better than their Islamic counterpart in
respecting the rights of their citizens.37 This should make it clear that
the problem is not Islam per se, but the social conditions that animate
its different manifestations. Instead of looking for a monolithic Islam as
the culprit or the catalyst, we must look at the socioeconomic diversity,
desperate histories and culture, the multiplicity of voices that engulf the
Muslim World as the key explanatory factors responsible for the variations
in implementation of human rights.
However, given the limitations involved in reinterpretation of Islam to
accommodate human rights, and in light of abysmal human rights record
of Islamic theocracies and the ensuing disenchantment with them, certain
scholars suggest that we have entered the era of post- Islamism, which is
not only a condition, but also a project. According to this view, post-
Islamism “is a conscious attempt to conceptualize and strategize the
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 53
rationale and modalities of transcending Islamism in social, political
and intellectual domains. Yet, post- Islamism is neither anti- Islamic,
un- Islamic, nor is it secular. Rather it represents an endeavor to fuse reli-
giosity and rights, faith and freedom, Islam and liberty. It is an attempt
to turn the underlying principles of Islamism on its head by emphasiz-
ing rights instead of duties, plurality in place of a singular authoritative
voice, historicity rather than fi xed strictures, and the future instead of the
past. It wants to marry Islam with individual choice and freedom, with
democracy and modernity to achieve what some have termed an ‘alterna-
tive modernity.’”38 Indeed, the monumental uprisings of millions in the
Arab World in 2011, spearheaded by the youth of the region, may have
heralded the arrival of post- Islamist era. These uprisings are characterized
by the fact that no grand ideology or narrative such as Pan- Islamism or
Pan- Arabism or “Arab Socialism” that inspired the movements of the
past seems to be the concern or the preoccupation of the current genera-
tion. They aspire for jobs, human rights, respect for their dignity, political
accountability, an end to corruption and cronyism and they demand
good governance. The peaceful nature of these uprisings, the multiplicity
of voices, and the centrality of social, economic, and civic rights concerns
once again has proven the salience and the universal appeal of human
rights and the intellectual bankruptcy of cultural relativism as an excuse
to refute them.
Conclusion
This chapter has sought to illustrate that Islam provides the cultural prism
of perception and the language of legitimation. It is not the necessary
cause or the explanation for the social realities, including the abysmal
record of human rights in much of the Muslim World. It can be inter-
preted to improve the state of human rights, as it was done under presi-
dent Khatami’s interlude in Iran, or it can be interpreted to suppress it, as
it was the case under Mulla Umar and the Taliban rule in Afghanistan.
Islam is neither responsible for rights violations nor the core basis for
advancing rights. Ultimately, “Islam is what Muslims make of it.”39
Perhaps a more pertinent question is: Should there be a shift in the
center of authority in Islam whereby the interpretation of the text and
tradition, including Islamic law, is no longer the monopoly of the cleri-
cal elite whose preoccupation with the past has made them oblivious to
the realities and the challenges of a rapidly changing world? There is an
urgent need for a new interpretation of Islamic Jurisprudence ( fi qh) in
order to accommodate human rights as a natural derivative of divine
rights, not a deviation from it. Furthermore, Islamic applied ethics must
be based on a new set of principles that prohibits its reifi cation and
instrumentalization in the hands of politicians and clerics alike. Only
54 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
a transformational change within Islam that includes the restoration of its
spiritual essence that embraces human welfare—upholding a new ethical
order in which protection of human rights is at the epicenter of its moral
structure—can render Islam a positive and relevant force in the discourse
of human rights.40
As a faith, Islam is not frozen in time and space. What Muslims have
made and continue to make of Islam is historically and socially condi-
tioned. Given this reality, our analytical gaze instead should be focused
on the social and political developments and the state and its exercise
and abuse of power. As the focus of power and the embodiment of the
monopoly of force, the state can be potentially a protector of human
rights or its violator. The role of power politics from above, however, is
one side of the equation. Perhaps the more signifi cant factor determining
the faith of human rights in the region is the struggle of marginalized and
the powerless people for political empowerment. As the political upris-
ings against dictatorships in Tunisia in December of 2010 and in Egypt
in January- February of 2011 that have now spread to other countries in
the region have demonstrated, the real impetus for human rights has to
come from below and from within Muslim societies themselves. Rights
are not granted from above by some benevolent dictator, they are won
through sweat, blood, and tear—that is, through the concrete social
struggle of people from below, as they attempt to re- create their societies
in a world in which the appeal of human rights is increasingly borderless
and universal.
Notes
1. General Declaration of the United Nations, “The Universal Declara-
tion of Human Rights of the United Nations.” Resolution 217 A (111)
of December 10, 1948. http://www.un.org/Overview/rights.html.
Accessed on April 17, 2011.
2. Katerina Dalacoura, Islam, Liberalism and Human Rights: Implications
for International Relations (New York: Macmillan, 2007), 6.
3. Michael J, Perry, The Idea of Human Rights: Four Inquiries (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2000), 70.
4. Ibid., 64.
5. Ibid., 71.
6. Jack Donnelly, International Human Rights (Second Edition) (Boulder,
CO: Westview Press, 1998), 32.
7. Reza Afshari, “An Essay on Islamic Cultural Relativism in the Discourse
of Human Rights,” Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 16, No. 2 (May
1994): 246.
8. Ibid., 247. See also Bassam Tibi, “Islamic Law/Shari’a, Human Rights,
Universal Morality and International Relations,” Human Rights Quar-
terly, Vol. 16, No. 2 (May 1994): 286–287.
I s l a m a n d H u m a n R i g h t s 55
9. Anthony Chase, “Human Rights and Agency in the Arab world,” in
Human Rights in the Arab World, ed. Anthony Chase and Amr Hamzawy
(Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008), 7.
10. Ann Elizabeth Mayer, “Islam and Human Rights: Tradition and Politics,”
in Human Rights and Religion: A Reader, ed. Liam Gearon (Portland:
Sussex Academic Press, 2002), 124.
11. Lucas Helie and Aimee Marie, “What Is Your Tribe?: Women’s Struggles
and the Construction of Muslimness.” In Religious Fundamentalism and
Human Rights of Women, ed. Courtney Holland (New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 1999), 22.
12. Susan Waltz, “Universal Human Rights: The Contribution of Muslim
States,” Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 26, No. 4 (November 2004):
814–815.
13. Ann Elizabeth Mayer, Islam and Human Rights: Tradition and Politics
(Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1991), 157. See also Fatema Mernissi,
Islam and Democracy: Fear of the Modern World (Cambridge, MA: Perseus
Books, 2002), 51.
14. Sayyid Qutb, This Religion of Islam (Palo Alto, CA: Almanar Publishers,
1967), 97. See also William E. Shepard, Sayyid Qutb and Islamic Activ-
ism: A Translation and Critical Analysis of Social Justice in Islam (Leiden:
E. J. Brill, 1996), 19–24.
15. John L. Esposito and James P. Piscatori “Democratization and Islam,”
Middle East Journal, Vol. 45, No. 3 (Summer 1991): 435.
16. Mehran Tamadonfar, The Islamic Polity and Political Leadership: Funda-
mentalism, Sectarianism, and Pragmatism (Boulder, CO: Westview Press,
1989), 42.
17. Richard W. Bulliet, “The Individual in Islamic Society,” in Religious
Diversity and Human Rights, ed. Irene Bloom, Paul J. Martin, and Wayne
L. Proudfoot (New York: Colombia University Press, 1996), 176.
18. Ahmad S. Moussalli, The Islamic Quest for Democracy, Pluralism, and
Human Rights (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 2001), 7–167.
See also Esposito and Piscatori, “Democratization and Islam,” 434.
19. Ibid., 126.
20. Louise Marlow, Hierarchy and Egalitarianism in Islamic Thought
(New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997).
21. John L. Esposito and John O. Voll, Islam and Democracy (Oxford, UK:
Oxford University Press, 1996), 28.
22. Abbott Freeland, “View of Democracy and the West.” In Iqbal: Poet
Philosopher of Pakistan, ed. Hafeez Malik (New York: Columbia University
Press, 1971), 155–175.
23. Ibid.
24. Abdolkarim Soroush, Farbeh Tar az Ideology (Sturdier than Ideology),
(Tehran: Sara Cultural Institute, 1994), 235–283. See also by Abdolkarim
Soroush, Reason, Freedom, and Democracy, translated and edited by Mahmoud
Sadri and Ahmad Sadri (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000).
25. Abdullahi A. An- Naim, Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil Liberties,
Human Rights, and International Law (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University
Press, 1990).
56 M a n o c h e h r D o r r a j
26. Mahmood Monshipouri, Muslims in Global Politics: Identities, Interests,
and Human Rights (Philadelphia, PA: Pennsylvania University Press,
2009).
27. Timur Kuran, The Long Divergence: How Islamic Law Held Back the
Middle East. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2011).
28. Abdullahi A. An-Na’im, “Qur’an, Shari’a, and Human Rights: Foun-
dations, Defi ciencies and Prospects.” In Human Rights and Religious
Values: An Uneasy Relationship? Ed. Abdullahi A. An-Nai’m, Jerald D.
Gort, Henry Jansen, and Hendrik M. Vroom (Grand Rapids, MI: William
B. Erdemans Publishing, 1995), 229–242.
29. Ahmad Moussali, “The Classical and Modern Roots of al- Huquq
al-Shari’yya and Its Modern Islamic Conceptions as Human Rights,” in
The Islamic Quest for Democracy, Pluralism and Human Rights (Gaines-
ville, FL: University of Florida, 2001), 147.
30. Heiner Bielfeldt, “Muslim Voices in the Human Rights Debate,” Human
Rights Quarterly, Vol. 17, No. 4, November 1995, 591.
31. Mayer, Islam and Human Rights, 83.
32. Bielefeldt, “Muslim Voices in the Human Rights Debate,” 599.
33. Paul A. Winters, Islam: Opposing View Points (San Diego, CA: Green-
haven Press, 1995), 103.
34. Mahmood Monshipouri, Muslims in Global Politics, 45.
35. Julie Chernov Hwang, Peaceful Islamist Mobilization in the Muslim World:
What Went Right (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009), 161–174.
36. Anthony Chase, “Liberal Islam and ‘Islam and Human Rights’: A Skeptic’s
View.” In Religion and Human Rights (Leiden: Koninklijke Brill NV,
2006), 3.
37. For a comparison, see Reza Afshari, Human Rights in Iran: The Abuse
of Cultural Relativism (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press,
2001). See also, “From Exporting Terrorism to Exporting Repression:
Human Rights in the Arab Region,” Annual Report, 2008. Cairo Insti-
tute for Human Rights Studies, 17–223.
38. Asef Bayat, Making Islam Democratic: Social Movements and the Post-
Islamist Turn (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2007), 94.
39. Anthony Chase, “Human Rights and Agency in the Arab World,”
24–25.
40. Tariq Ramadan, What I Believe (New York: Oxford University Press,
2010), 3–48.
4
C h a p t e r 3
Human Rights through the Lens
of Isl amic Legal Thought
H a l i m R a n e 1
Introduction
The successful implementation of modern standards of human rights
in the Muslim world depends on the extent to which they are regarded
as not a product of the West but genuinely possessing Islamic legiti-
macy and authenticity. This chapter contends that the challenge is not
simply to demonstrate Islam’s ability to adopt what are widely regarded
as “Western” norms, but for them to be identifi able as legitimate and
normative within the Islamic texts and traditions. It is a positive fi rst step
for Muslim states to agree to certain human rights conventions but it
is far more meaningful if such standards were met on an “Islamic” basis
through their integration into “Islamic” legal thought. This chapter
presents a methodology for Quranic interpretation that concentrates on
higher, universal objectives or maqasid in Arabic. This methodology is
both grounded in the Islamic tradition and responsive to the need for
Islamic legitimacy and authenticity in instituting human rights in the
contemporary Muslim context.
The methodological approach to the interpretation of Islamic law
is a critical factor in the resultant legal position. An examination of the
human rights norms associated with the Islamic tradition shows that
they are frequently based on premodern customs and norms rather than
any textual authority from the Quran or the Prophetic traditions. This
chapter explores the implications of addressing the question of human
rights in the Muslim world through the contextual- maqasid methodology
58 H a l i m R a n e
interpreting the Quran. It details the origins, Islamic legitimacy, and
process of the contextual and maqasid approaches. This chapter then
demonstrates the extensive compatibility of modern standards of human
rights with Islam’s sacred texts that emerges when examined through the
lens of context and higher objectives.
1 Human Rights in Islam and
the Muslim World
Since the 1990s, much has been written about Islam and human rights
(Monshipouri 1998; Ali 2000; Mayer 2006; Baderin, Monshipouri,
Mokhtari and Welcham 2006; Baderin 2003; Oh 2007; Akbarzadeh
and MacQueen 2008). A large part of this effort has been toward the
reconciliation of Islamic and Western norms. The work of Mahmood
Monshipouri (1998), for instance, makes an important contribution to
synthesizing Islamic and secular values in the promotion of such central
aspects of human rights as equality and dignity. More recently, a sharper
focus has been made on the issue of interpretation of Islamic law in rela-
tion to human rights, including Mashood Baderin’s (2003) International
Human Rights and Islamic Law and Adbullahi An-Na’im’s (2008) Islam
and the Secular State.
The main problem for the application of human rights in the Islamic
context is the absence of a legitimate “Islamic” basis for ratifi cation in
terms of law. Baderin (2003) writes that “while Muslim states participate
in the international human rights objective of the UN, they do not enter
declarations and reservations on grounds of the shariah or Islamic law
when they ratify international human rights treaties” (p. 2–3). However,
the representatives of Muslim states do make their arguments against vari-
ous articles of human rights charters on the basis of Islamic law (Baderin
2003). It must be noted that the principles of the shariah and even Islamic
law as manifested in premodern times are essentially compatible with
contemporary standards of human rights (An-Na’im 2008). The general
consensus of scholarship on the subject identifi es three main exceptions:
gender equality, rights of religious minorities, and freedom of religion.
The work of An-Na’im (2008) looks to the core of the problem con-
cerning Islam and human rights. In his words, he is “trying to promote
an understanding of shariah that Muslims can actually live by, instead of
maintaining an unrealistic ideal that is honoured only in theory but not
in practice” (p. 107). As noted by Baderin (2003), An-Na’im (2008),
and others such as Hashmi (2002), Muslim states have signed various
international human rights covenants and have even included human
rights provisions in their states’ legislation and constitutions. The issue,
however, remains that this needs to be done as a matter of Islamic law
if human rights are to attain the requisite normative authority in the
H u m a n R i g h t s 59
Muslim world. As An-Na’im (2008) contends, for most Muslims “their
motivation to uphold human rights is likely to diminish if they perceive
those norms to be inconsistent with Islamic precepts. Conversely, their
commitment and motivation to protect those rights will increase if they
believe them to be at least consistent with, if not required by, their belief
in Islam” (p. 111).
An-Na’im (2008) offers a thorough analysis of the compatibilities and
incompatibilities of classical interpretations of Islam and contemporary
standards of human rights. He advocates an approach to interpreta-
tion that allows for Islamic law to be more aligned with contemporary
human rights norms. Indeed, he quotes extensively from the Quran to
demonstrate that the potential for accommodation on the basis of Islam’s
sacred text and that alternative formulations of shariah principles are
merely possible but valid “if accepted by Muslims” (p. 135). As per his
earlier work (1990), Towards an Islamic Reformation, An-Na’im (2008)
continues to advocate a methodology of interpretation based on reverse
abrogation: “a shift in the basis of social and political aspects of shariah
from verses included in the Medina phase of the revelation of the Quran
(622–632) to those revealed during the Mecca period (610–622)”
(p. 135). The rationale of this approach is that it would facilitate the
development of alternative shariah principles based on the universal
teachings of Islam found in the Meccan period rather than those of the
Medinan period, which are more concerned with the specifi c historical,
social, and political contexts of the Prophet Muhammad and his compan-
ions. This approach has been advocated by An-Na’im for the past two
decades but is yet to gain legitimacy in Islamic legal thought.
As a consequence of classical interpretations of Islamic sources,
certain “traditional barriers” for human rights in the Islamic context
have been identifi ed (Baderin 2003, p. 10). Religious interpretations
that have been used by Muslim states to argue against certain human
rights provisions as in the case of the Saudi Arabian representative who
opposed certain articles on the Universal Declaration of Human Rights
concerning freedom of human conscience in religion as well as those
concerned with the rights of women on the basis of Islamic law (Little,
Kelsay, and Sachedina 1988). Baderin (2003) is part of a growing list
of contemporary scholars who endorse a maqasid or objective- oriented
approach to interpreting Islamic texts in response to the challenges and
complexities of the modern world. He writes that “taking cognizance
of the object and purpose of the shariah (maqasid al-shariah) . . . is
an important holistic approach for realising the proper and benevolent
scope of Islamic law” (p. 40). In terms of human rights, he advocates the
maqasid approach as a means of ensuring the protection of human rights
by way of appeals to the higher objectives and general welfare (maslaha)
that overcome classical interpretations that either violate or disregard
60 H a l i m R a n e
contemporary standards of human rights. However, his analysis of the
International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights and the Inter-
national Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights fails to
effectively or systematically apply the maqasid. To his credit, Baderin’s
analysis identifi es specifi c areas of incompatibility between Islamic law
and international law that a maqasid- oriented approach would effec-
tively resolve but his work lacks a clear methodology for interpretation
and application of this approach.
2 The Contextual-Maqasid
Methodology
Issues concerning the Muslim world need to be addressed within the
Islamic tradition if they are to be viewed by Muslims as legitimate and
accepted. This cannot be achieved by a simple return to the shariah rul-
ings of the past, at least not until what is referred to as shariah is realigned
with contemporary realities and conditions. Mohammad Hashim Kamali
(2006) explains that “this would necessitate imaginative reconstruction
and ijtihad (intellectual reasoning) entailing revision and modifi cation
of the rules of fi qh so as to translate the broad objectives of the shariah
into the laws and institutions of contemporary society” (p. 33). Central
to this point, the late Fazlur Rahman (1984) emphasizes that for an
approach to interpretation to be successful, it must “fl ow from the teach-
ing of the Quran and Sunnah as a whole”; otherwise it “will not solve a
given problem or apply to a given situation Islamically” (p. 23).
As I have documented elsewhere, the classical usul methodology
along with classical approaches to ijtihad have been deemed inadequate
to meeting the challenges posed by modernity (Rane 2009). Increas-
ingly, scholars of Islamic studies are endorsing two approaches, maqasid
and contextualization. In his renowned work Islam and Modernity,
Fazlur Rahman (d.1988) explains that the failure to appreciate the
unity of the Quranic verses resulted in the emergence of an alternative
worldview from that intended by the Quran. Historically, Islamic law
has suffered from “the lack of an adequate method for understand-
ing the Quran” (p. 2). Central to this shortcoming is a failure to
appreciate the “underlying unity of the Quran . . . coupled with a
practical insistence upon fi xing on words of various verses in isolation,”
referred to as the “atomistic” approach. The overriding problem with
this approach is that “laws were often derived from verses that were not
at all legal in intent” (p. 2–3). This view is reinforced by others, such as
Kamali (2006) who observes an “overtly legalistic tendency” among lat-
ter day Muslim jurists, which he contends has developed at the expense
of the spirit of Islam (p. 1).
H u m a n R i g h t s 61
Istiqra
I will elaborate on the maqasid approach in a moment and discuss the
contributions of one of its most infl uential proponents, the fourteenth-
century- Islamic scholar Abu Ishaq al- Shatibi (d.1388). At this point how-
ever, it is important to explain the concept of istiqra and how it is used in
the methodology I propose. Like many after him, Shatibi emphasized the
danger of conducting ijtihad on the basis of particulars in isolation rather
than universals in context. He argues that both universals and particulars
must be considered together (Raysuni 2006). He left a robust methodo-
logy for analyzing and identifying the maqasid of the Quranic text on the
basis of induction. Induction is for Shatibi “one of the most crucial, power-
ful tools with which to identify the objectives of the Law” (Raysuni 2006,
p. 280). In fact, Shatibi regards induction as yielding “complete certainty”
as an inductive reading is not based on a single piece of evidence but upon
numerous such pieces, which together “convey a single message which
is thereby invested with complete certitude” (p. 281). It is through this
method that Shatibi bases his conviction that Islamic law is best explained
in terms of the preservation of human interests or maslaha.
The method of induction developed by Shatibi has been refi ned by
the late Muhammad al- Tahir Ibn Ashur (2006). His method, “thematic
inference” or istiqra, identifi es the objectives of the law through inductive
analysis of the text as a whole by focusing on provisions and commands
with stated effective causes (ilal ) or explicit indication or allusion to a
specifi c objective (maqsad), and comparing rules and commands with
a common ratio legis. As Shatibi, Ibn Ashur, and others contend, istiqra
is the most reliable method for understanding the Quran and identifying
the intent, objectives, and purpose of its content. The value of a thematic
reading of the Quran, in order to acquire a more holistic and compre-
hensive understanding of the book, is also endorsed by Fazlur Rahman
(1989) and best represented in his famous work, Major Themes of the
Quran. While a maqsad may not be identifi able from a single verse of
the Quran, the reading of multiple verses on a certain issue will reveal an
associated purpose, intent, or objective. Kamali (2006) explains:
There may be various textual references to a subject, none of which may
be in the nature of a decisive injunction. Yet their collective weight is such
that it leaves little doubt as to the meaning that is obtained from them.
A decisive conclusion may, in other words, be arrived at from a plurality of
speculative expressions (p. 124).
Maqasid
I will now proceed to elaborate on the maqasid and contextualiza-
tion approaches. The maqasid approach offers a framework to guide
62 H a l i m R a n e
the contextualist approach and to ensure consistency with the spirit
of the Quran. It emphasizes the goals, purpose, intent, and objectives of
the text rather than the specifi c words and verses. Kamali (2006) writes
that the maqasid are “rooted in the textual injunctions of the Quran
and the Sunnah . . . their main focus is the general philosophy and objec-
tives of these injunctions often beyond the particularities of the text”
(p. 130). This approach makes the shariah more accessible by avoiding
the literalism, atomism, and conditions associated with the usul method-
ology. In this context, it should be recalled that the laws deduced from
the shariah are not imposed for their own sake but for the purpose of real-
izing certain objectives and benefi ts and avoiding certain harms. Kamali
(2006) writes that “when there is change of a kind whereby a parti cular
law no longer secures its underlying purpose and rationale, it must be
substituted with a suitable alternative. To do otherwise would mean
neglecting the objective of the Lawgiver [God]” (p. 51–52). Herein is
the importance of the maqasid approach today.
To appreciate the relevance of the maqasid in light of the challenges
and complexities of the contemporary world, it is useful to consider its
origins and development. Reference to the maqasid peaked at times of
social, political, and economic challenge. While the concept of higher
objectives can be seen in the approach and ruling of rulers as far back
in Muslim history as the second caliph, Umar (d.644), the actual term
maqasid was not used in the writings of jurists until 300 years after the
death of the Prophet Muhammad, when Abu Abd Allah al- Tirmidhi
al- Hakim (d.932) became the fi rst scholar to use the term maqasid and
to write specifi cally on the topic.
It was not until more than a century later that Abd Allah al- Juwayni
(d.1085), who extensively used the term maqasid along with its deriva-
tives in his book, al- Burhan, classifi ed the three categories of maqasid:
daruriyyat, hajiyyat, and tahsiniyyat (essentials, needs, and enhance-
ments). He is also credited as having been the fi rst to defi ne the major
essentials as the protection of religion, human life, faculty of reason,
progeny, and wealth. His student Abu Hamid al- Ghazali (d.1111)
expanded and developed these ideas in his famous works Shifa al- Ghalil
and al- Mustasfa. Al- Ghazali defi ned the fi ve objectives of shariah as the
preservation of religion, life, faculty of reason, chastity/progeny, and
material wealth in relation to their corresponding prescribed punish-
ments or hudud. A sixth objective, preservation of honor, was subse-
quently added by Shihab al- Din al- Qarafi (d.1285).
Al- Ghazali outlined the central objectives of Islamic law in terms
of intents and interests, both “spiritual” and “worldly.” His work is
attributed with having set the parameters for the understanding and
application of the maqasid. Although these parameters were somewhat
reshaped by Abu Ishaq al- Shatibi, they have continued to infl uence and
H u m a n R i g h t s 63
constrain the thinking of maqasid even until today. In the two centuries
between al- Ghazali and Shatibi, the infl uence of al- Ghazali can clearly be
seen in terms of the direction in which the theory of maqasid developed.
As Ahmad Raysuni (2006) documents, the contributions of the scholars
during this period basically served to elaborate the model developed
by al- Ghazali. Some scholars, however, did depart from the framework
constructed by al- Ghazali, including Izz al- Din Abd al- Salam (d.1261),
al- Qarafi , Ibn Taymiyyah (d.1328), Ibn al- Qayyim (d.1350), and
al- Shatibi. Abd al-Salam’s work on the qawa’id al- ahkam or “legal max-
ims” broadened the discussion of maqasid in terms of all that promotes
benefi t and prevents harm.
The concept of maqasid was expanded in the fourteenth century by
Ibn Taymiyyah, who identifi ed a more open- ended list of values that
included fulfi lment of contracts, preservation of kinship ties, honoring
the rights of one’s neighbors, sincerity, trustworthiness, and moral purity.
He raised objection to the usuli position that limited the essential objec-
tives of Islamic law to the fi ve expounded by al- Ghazali, going so far as to
state that these fi ve or six do not represent the highest or most signifi cant
of objectives. The work of Shatibi, however, made a profound contribu-
tion to developing the theory of maqasid by focusing on the concept
of maslaha or public interest as an approach to overcoming the rigidity
imposed by literalism and qiyas (analogical reasoning).
In the modern era, the most signifi cant contribution to the maqasid
was made by Ibn Ashur. First published in 1946 in Tunis, Ibn Ashur’s
Maqasid al- Shariah al- Islamiyyah is arguably the most important attempt
of the twentieth century to further develop the theory of maqasid.
Expressing the need for an objective- based approach to Islamic law in
light of modern realities, he introduces to the theory of maqasid the
preservation of the family system, freedom of belief, orderliness, natural
disposition, civility, human rights, freedom, and equality as objectives
of Islamic law. In contemporary times, Yusuf Qaradawi has further
extended the maqasid list to include social welfare support, freedom,
human dignity, and human fraternity, while Kamali has added to this list
the protection of fundamental rights and liberties, economic develop-
ment, along with research and development in science and technology.
Like their predecessors, both scholars based their additions on relevant
supporting texts of the Quran and Prophetic Traditions. Kamali (2006)
contends that the maqasid remains dynamic and open to expansion
according to the priorities of every age.
In isolation, however, the theory of maqasid remains defi cient to
the extent that it does not systematically address the issue of context.
Abdullah Saeed (2006), for instance, regards the maqasid as an impor-
tant theoretical basis for context- based interpretation but contends that
its historical formulation has rendered it “too restrictive to be considered
64 H a l i m R a n e
as a basis for liberal interpretations of the Quran” (p. 127). The major
obstacle for the maqasid approach in Saeed’s opinion is the authorita-
tive method of usul al- fi qh, which does not allow for interpretation on
the basis of context, intent, purpose, or circumstances, in the case of
clear instructions or statements in the Quran or Prophetic traditions.
Commenting that the demand of the usul method for following the text
negates a maqasid- oriented approach, Saeed laments that “maqasid is
thus often reduced to a form of empty rhetoric as far as ethico- legal texts
are concerned” (p. 127).
Contextualization
It is my contention, such reservations as those expressed by Saeed can
be overcome by a methodology that incorporates contextualization,
both in the historical and contemporary context. Contextualization is
an approach to interpreting the Quran that requires consideration of the
text as a whole, the position of verses within the text, the circumstances
or conditions of the Prophet Muhammad and the early Muslim commu-
nity at the time of the revelation, and the contemporary situation or issue
for which the Quranic guidance is sought. Diversity in interpretation is
to be expected with differing experiences, beliefs, prejudices, and values
of different interpreters.
There has been a realization among some contemporary Muslim
scholars that if the Quran is to remain relevant to Muslim societies and
conditions, given the dramatic changes that have occurred since the sev-
enteenth century, a contextualist approach is necessary. A large number
of contemporary scholars including Abdullahi An-Na’im, Khaled Abou
El Fadl, Louay Safi , and Sohail Hashmi have discussed the need to read
and understand the Quran in light of historical and contemporary con-
texts. Among those who have developed methods of contextualization
are Fazlur Rahman, Abdul Hamid Abu Sulayman, and Abdullah Saeed.
Rahman (1984) advocates a contextualist process of interpreting and
applying the Quran that he refers to as a “ double- movement.” The pro-
cess involves a movement from a contemporary issue to Quranic times
(fi rst movement) and then back to the present (second movement). The
fi rst movement requires one to fi rst “understand the import or meaning of
a given statement by studying the historical situation or problem to which
it was the answer” (p. 6) This step, along with the general, preliminary,
historical study, is necessary for an understanding of the “meaning of the
Quran as a whole in terms of the specifi c tenets that constitute responses
to specifi c situations” (p. 6). The second step is the generalization of
the specifi c answers and to enunciate them as “statements of general
moral- social objectives that can be distilled from specifi c texts in light of
the sociohistorical background and the often stated rationes legis” (p. 6).
H u m a n R i g h t s 65
Following this perspective and referring to what he calls the “ time- space
dimension,” Abu Sulayman (1993) explains that the pervasive usage and
acceptance of qiyas (analogical reasoning) particularly during the Abbasid
period was due to the fact that the empire was globally dominant
and, therefore, content with the status quo. It, therefore, sought a meth-
odology that would maintain the model that developed in the last years of
the Prophet’s life when confl ict with the tribes of Arabia was particularly
intense (p. 106). In this respect he also argues against reading histori-
cal events in legal terms. Rather, he advocates an analysis of the political
and strategic signifi cance of the events. Abu Sulayman writes that it was
the Prophet’s realism, “with its wide margin of political manoeuvrability,
rather than legalism and formalism, that explains the Prophet’s successful
conduct of external affairs” (p. 75–79). The Prophet’s actions, peaceful
and forceful, were guided by what was necessary in any given circumstance
and the ultimate goal of ensuring the survival of the Muslims and the
prosperity of Islam, all within Islam’s moral and ethical framework, which
later became legal.
A more recent contribution to the contextualist approach is that of
Abdullah Saeed (2006). In his book Interpreting the Quran, Saeed pres-
ents a comprehensive argument for the replacement of the traditional
“legalistic-literalistic” approach to interpreting the Quran, particularly
the ethico- legal verses, with an approach- based contextualization. Saeed
has developed a three- fold framework for a contemporary approach to
interpreting the Quran involving a new classifi cation of Quranic verses,
a new hierarchy of Quranic values, and a new model for interpretation.
Saeed’s four- stage model for interpretation begins with the text of the
Quran in its context, followed by a linguistic and literary examination of
the words of the text, then an examination of the original meaning of the
text for its fi rst recipients in their sociohistorical context, and fi nally the
meaning of the text in reference to contemporary circumstances.
The methodology of interpreting the Quran proposed by this chapter
integrates the maqasid and contextualization approaches derived from
a reading of the Quran on the basis of istiqra. As I have demonstrated
in Reconstructing Jihad amid Competing International Norms, these
approaches are most effective when applied as part of a single methodo-
logy. This methodology involves reading all of the relevant Quranic
verses on a particular issue on the basis of istiqra or thematic induction,
considering the historical, social, and political context in which they were
revealed, and ascertaining the overriding objectives that emerge from this
reading. Once the higher objectives (maqasid) of a collection of verses
concerning a particular issue are identifi ed, interpretation of particular
verses should then be made on the basis of these objectives and should
not be made in contradiction to the identifi ed maqasid. This methodol-
ogy has the potential for broad application to a range of issues concerning
66 H a l i m R a n e
Islam and modernity, including human rights. The next section of this
chapter will apply this methodology to the issues of gender equality,
rights of religious minorities, and freedom of religion.
3 Application and Reconciliation
For the purpose of demonstrating the application of the contextual-
maqasid methodology proposed by this chapter, I have limited the key
search terms and will provide only a brief analysis of gender equality,
rights of religious minorities, and freedom of religion in the Quran. The
following analysis is based on Muhammad Asad’s English translation of
the Quran via the online Quran search engine at www.islamicity.com/
Quransearch/.
Gender Equality
For the purposes of this discussion, I have used “women,” “woman,”
“mate,” “wife,” “wives,” “daughter,” “mother,” “queen” as well as the
names of women mentioned in the Quran, such as “Mary,” as search
terms. This yielded almost 200 verses that we can consider to be most
relevant to understanding the Quran’s view of gender issues.
Many of the Quranic verses concerning women arise in the context of
family matters, namely, marriage, divorce, and inheritance. In such verses
the Quran establishes certain rules of marriage (Quran 4:22–24, 33:50,
2:221, 2:235, and 60:10), guidelines for divorce (Quran 2:229–241,
4:20, 4:130, 4:128, 65:1, and 66:5), and details of inheritance (Quran
4:7, and 4:11–12). The underlying principle of these verses is that a
woman is an independent entity with rights (Quran 2:233 and 4:32)
whose will is acknowledged (Quran 2:231–232) and who is in charge of
her own affairs (Quran 33:50). Men are regarded by the Quran as carers
of women (Quran 4:34) but that women should have a say in decision
making is expressed as normative (Quran 28:26). Moreover, the rela-
tionship between spouses is intended by the Quran to be a partnership
(Quran 42:11) and the expectation is that women should be treated with
kindness and fairness (Quran 4:25 and 33:49).
The most apparent theme of the Quran’s perspective on gender rela-
tions is equality. The Quran repeatedly stresses the equality of believing
men and women and the equal rewards they should expect to receive for
their good deeds (Quran 3:195, 33:35–36, 40:40, 16:97, 48:5, 48:25,
49:11, 57:12, 57:18, 85:10, 71:28, 47:19, and 9:72). However, the
Quran acknowledges that both men and women are capable of both
good and bad (Quran 48:6, 57:13, 24:26, 33:73 and 9:67–71). Certain
women are criticized in the Quran for their faithlessness, namely, with
wives of Noah and Lot (Quran 29:32–33, 66:10, 7:83, and 11:81), while
H u m a n R i g h t s 67
others are highly praised, such as the wife of the Pharaoh (Quran 28:9
and 66:11) and Mary the mother of Jesus (Quran 5:75, 5:110, 23:50,
66:12, and 3:42). The Quran does not accept the idea of original sin or
ascribe specifi c blame to women. Rather, the book elaborates on the cre-
ation of man and woman in terms of equality (Quran 2:35, 7:19, 20:117,
39:6, 4:1, and 7:189). It also ridicules customs underlined by notions of
gender inequality (Quran 6:139) as well as the idea that sons are superior
to daughters (Quran 6:100, 37:149, 37:153, 43:16, 43:18 and 52:39).
In the context of marriage and divorce, the equality of men and
women is continually emphasized. The very basis of marriage accord-
ing to the Quran is “love and compassion” (Quran 30:21). The Quran
advocates that marriage should take place based on equitable terms
(Quran 4:3–4, 4:25, and 4:127). Similarly, divorce should be conducted
on the basis of equality and fairness (Quran 4:130, 4:128, 65:1, 65:6,
2:231–232, and 2:241).
In addition to equality, the other major theme of the Quran’s per-
spective of women is dignity. The upholding of the dignity of women
is repeatedly emphasized by the Quran (Quran 24:3–4, 24:23, 24:31,
24:60, 33:55, 33:58–59, 4:25, 5:5, and 2:241). The Quran imposes
a harsh penalty for those who make slanderous accusations against a
woman (Quran 24:4). It encourages modesty in dress for women in pub-
lic as a means of protecting their dignity and protection from harassment
(Quran 24:31 and 33:59). However, the Quran considers the participa-
tion of women in society as normative (Quran 28:23, 12:30–33, 12:51,
and 3:61). It accepts a role for women in economic affairs (Quran 2:282)
as well as their political participation (Quran 60:12). The book even gives
legitimacy to female leadership through its discussion of the Queens of
Sheba (Quran 27:36–38) and particularly the description of her throne
as “mighty” (Quran 27:23).
Taking these verses collectively, the spirit of the Quran is one of gen-
der equality, the upholding of women’s dignity, and her social, economic,
and political participation as normative. All verses of the Quran concern-
ing women should be read in this light. Thus, such verses as 2:282, which
on the surface may suggest that the testimony of a woman is worth half as
much as that of a man should be read in the social and historical context
of seventh- century Arabia. Economic participation and witnessing busi-
ness contracts was a male privilege. The Quran legitimized the involve-
ment of women in such activities. The provision of one male to two
female witnesses should not be seen as a matter of female inferiority but a
tactical response to prevailing social norms. The full and equal participa-
tion of women is consistent with the overall message of the Quran.
Similarly, for verse 4:34 to be read as an endorsement of women’s
subservience to man is to read this verse in contradiction to the spirit of
the Quran. The prevailing norms of seventh- century Arabia meant that
68 H a l i m R a n e
the well- being of women was dependent on men, their fathers, brothers,
and husbands. The Quran, however, makes provision for the full and
equal social, economic, and political participation of women and is there-
fore open to change in social norms that would allow women to be more
independent of men. The ability of women to inherit, own property, and
remain in charge of their own affairs suggests that the Quran supports
this level of equality.
Minority Rights
Using “Jew,” “Christian,” “people of the book,” and “unbeliever” as
search terms, yields almost 100 verses that we can consider to be most
relevant to understanding the Quran’s view of non- Muslims. It is impor-
tant to note from the outset that the Quran is not a text that details
matters of social organization. What can be drawn from the Quran
on matters of minority rights or the place of non- Muslims in Islam is
derived from stories of ancient relations between God and certain reli-
gious communities and relations between Muhammad and non- Muslims
in the context of seventh- century Arabia.
The dignity of all human beings is a principle established by the
Quran irrespective of religion. It states that God has conferred dignity
on the children of Adam and preferred them above other creations
(Quran 17:70). From this perspective, all human beings are entitled
to be treated justly and equitably (Quran 60:8). Moreover, the Quran
advocates good relations between all human beings; the religious convic-
tions of people are not meant to be a determinant of relations or conduct
toward one another (Quran 4:94).
This is not to suggest that the Quran is uncritical of certain non-
Muslims. The Quran discusses the rivalry between Muslims, Christians,
and Jews over such matters as ancestry and relations with God (Quran
2:120, 2:135, 2:139, 2:140, 3:140, 3:67, and 5:18). Jews are especially
criticized in the Quran for hostility toward the Muslims (Quran 5:82)
and distorting the meaning of God’s word (Quran 4:46 and 5:41). The
Quran even advises Muslims against taking non- Muslims as protectors
or allies (Quran 5:51). However, the Quran clarifi es that this instruction
on allies refers to those who were fi ghting against the Muslims because of
their faith and drove them from their homes (Quran 60:9).
The verses that suggest adversarial relations between Muslims and
non- Muslims were revealed in the context of war between Muslims
and non- Muslims (Quran 66:9 and 9:73). The Quran is unambiguous
concerning the rationale of fi ghting. Muslims were given permission to
fi ght against non- Muslims not because of faith but in response to aggres-
sion and oppression (Quran 22:39–40, 9:17, 8:39, and 8:34). Even the
so- called sword- verse (Quran 9:5) is followed by two verses that instruct
H u m a n R i g h t s 69
Muslims to give protection to non- Muslims who seek their protection
(Quran 9:6–7). Moreover, the Quran advocates that upholding a treaty
with non- Muslims takes priority over the obligation to protect people
from their oppression (Quran 8:72).
Such verses that address hostility between Muslims and non- Muslims
do not detract, however, from the Quran’s declaration that all human
beings are accountable to God (Quran 2:139, 4:42, and 22:17) and
that all those who believe and do good deeds, including Christians and
Jews, shall be rewarded by God (Quran 2:62, 5:69, and 22:17). In sum,
Quranic verses critical of non- Muslims, including those concerning mat-
ters of faith, occur in reference to particular historical contexts. Others
that appear to encourage hostility between Muslims and non- Muslims
occur in the context of war and relate to treaty obligations, aggres-
sion, oppression, and freedom of religion. The maqasid established by
the Quran regarding all human beings, non- Muslims included, are treat-
ment of others with dignity, fairness, and equality.
Freedom of Religion
A search of the Quran for such words as “religion” and “faith” results in
a total of almost 380 verses. Only in a couple of dozen verses does the
Quran use the term religion or din in Arabic. In over 360 verses, how-
ever, the Quran uses the term faith or iman in Arabic. Although in not a
single verse of the Quran is there a provision for any sanction or punish-
ment for those who choose not to profess Islam, exclusivist and intol-
erant claims by Muslims vis- a- vis other religions stem from a repeated
statement of the Quran that the only religion accepted by God is Islam
(Quran 3:19, 3:85, 5:3, 9:33, and 48:28). These verses seem to stand in
contrast, however, with others that express that there is no coercion on
religion (Quran 2:256, 10:99, and 109:6), declare great rewards for all
those who have faith in God and do righteous deeds (Quran 2:25, 3:57,
4:122, 5:9, 6:82, 7:42, 8, 74, 9:88, 10:4, 20:82, 24:55, 30:15, 41:8,
48:29, 57:7, 65:11, and 95:6), and even advocate jihad for the defense
of other religions that worship God (Quran 22:39–40).
How to reconcile these apparent contradictions? Perhaps consider-
ation should be given to the words used in their literal sense. If read in
this way then what the Quran is saying is that the only “way of life” (din)
accepted by God is “submission to God” (islam). The Quran uses this
very approach in settling the dispute between Muslims, Christians, and
Jews, as to the religion of previous Prophets. The Quran states that they
were “Muslims” as they submitted themselves to the will of God (Quran
3:67 and 2:140). Moreover, the Quran repeatedly states that religion or
the way of life involving submission to God was the same throughout
history (Quran 26:137, 2:132, 2:183, and 42:13).
70 H a l i m R a n e
As far as the concept of faith is concerned, the Quran provides extensive
descriptions of faith (none of which preclude non- Muslims), including
being conscious of God (Quran 2:212, 3:102, 3:35, 9:119, 33:70, 57:28,
and 59:18), loving God above all else (Quran 2:165), enjoining what is
just and forbidding what is unjust (Quran 3:110), doing righteous deeds
(Quran 98:7 and 103:3), being constant in prayer and giving charity
regularly (Quran 2:43, 2:254, 4:162, 5:55, 8:3, and 14:31), being fair
and kind to one’s spouse (Quran 4:19), being patient in adversity (Quran
103:3 and 3:200), and honoring pledges and being true to one’s word
(Quran 5:1and 61:2).
The Quranic verses that may be read in support of a hostile response
to non- Muslims and the supremacy of Islam (such as Quran 9:5 and
9:29) should be read in their historical context. Specifi cally, the wars
that raged between the Muslims and non- Muslim Arab tribes during the
last decade of the Prophet Muhammad’s life that involved acts of overt
aggression, expulsion from homes, and a denial of the right to freedom
of religious conviction. Even within the context of such hostilities, the
Quran maintained that hatred of others should not prevent them being
treated justly (Quran 5:8), that non- Muslims may be invited to accept
Islam (Quran 9:6–7) but not compelled to accept (Quran 10:99), treated
with forgiveness (Quran 45:14), kindness, and equality (Quran 60:8),
and that peaceful relations should be pursued (Quran 4:90 and 8:61).
Outside of the context of war and hostility, the Quran does not
endorse a posture of adversity toward non- Muslims. Submission to the
will of God is regarded as a preferable way of life for human beings but is
regarded as a matter of conviction that some human beings will embrace,
while others remain free to reject. In sum, the maqasid of these verses
are the preservation of conditions under which human beings are free to
choose their religious convictions.
Conclusion
Islamic law continues to be of particular importance to Muslims. In some
cases, classical interpretations of the Quran have resulted in a perceived
incompatibility between Islam and certain human rights norms. While
Muslim states have adopted various human rights and other conven-
tions that have been developed as part of modern international norms,
they have not necessarily been accepted on an Islamic basis or as part of
contemporary Islamic legal thought. This chapter has presented an Islam-
ically legitimate methodology that synthesizes the contextualization and
maqasid or objective- oriented approach to reading and interpreting the
Quran. When examined through the lens of context and higher objec-
tives based on a comprehensive, thematic, inductive reading, extensive
H u m a n R i g h t s 71
compatibility between modern standards of human rights and Islam’s
sacred text is evident.
Notes
1. Dr. Halim Rane is the Deputy Director of the Griffi th Islamic Research
Unit and Senior Lecturer in the National Centre of Excellence for Islamic
Studies at Griffi th University. Dr. Rane is the author of a number of books
including Reconstructing Jihad amid Competing International Norms
(Palgrave Macmillan, 2009) and Islam and Contemporary Civilisation:
Evolving Ideas, Transforming Relations (Melbourne University Press,
2010).
References
Abu Sulayman, A. A. 1993. Towards an Islamic Theory of International Relations:
New Directions for Methodology and Thought (Herndon: International Institute
of Islamic Thought).
Akbarzadeh, S., and B. MacQueen. (eds.). 2008. Islam and Human Rights in
Practice: Perspectives across the Ummah (London: Routledge).
An-Na’im, A. A. 2008. Islam and the Secular State: Negotiating the Future of
Sharia (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press).
———. 1990. Toward an Islamic Reformation: Civil liberties, Human Rights, and
International Law (New York: Syracuse University Press).
Baderin, M. 2003. International Human Rights and Islamic Law (Oxford:
Oxford University Press).
Baderin, M., M. Monshipouri, S. Mokhtari, and L. Welcham, (eds.). 2006. Islam
and Human Rights: Advocacy for Social Change in Local Contexts (New Delhi:
Global Media Publications).
Esposito, J. 2005. Islam: The Straight Path (Oxford: Oxford University Press).
Feldman, N. 2008. “Why Shariah?” New York Times. http://www.
nytimes.com/2008/03/16/magazine/16 Shariah- t.html?ref=world. Accessed
September 1, 2009.
Hashmi, S. (ed.). 2002. Islamic Political Ethics: Civil Society, Pluralism, and Con-
fl ict. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press).
Ibn Ashur, M. T. 2006. Treatise on Maqasid al- Shariah. (London: International
Institute of Islamic Thought).
Kamali, M. H. 2006. An Introduction to Shariah (Kuala Lumpur: Ilmiah
Publishers).
Little, D., J. Kelsay, and A. A. Sachedina. 1988. Human Rights and the Confl ict
of Cultures: Western and Islamic Perspectives on Religious Liberty (Columbia:
University of South Carolina Press).
Maududi, A. A. 1981. Human Rights in Islam (London: Islamic Foundation).
Mayer, A. 2006. Islam and Human Rights (Boulder, CO: Westview).
Monshipouri, M. 1998. Islamism, Secularism, and Human Rights in the Middle
East (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner).
72 H a l i m R a n e
Oh, I. 2007. The Rights of God: Islam, Human Rights and Comparative Ethics
(Washington, D.C.: Georgetown University Press).
Rahman, F. 1984. Islam and Modernity: Transformation of an Intellectual Tradi-
tion (Chicago: University of Chicago Press).
———. 1989. Major Themes of the Quran (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust).
Rane, H. 2009. Reconstructing Jihad amid Competing International Norms
(New York: Palgrave).
Raysuni, A. 2006. Imam al-Shatibi’s Theory of the Higher Objectives and Intents of
Islamic Law (Kuala Lumpur: Islamic Book Trust).
Saeed, A. 2006. Interpreting the Quran: Towards a Contemporary Approach
(London: Routledge).
Shaheen, A. 2000. Gender and Human Rights in Islam and International Law
(Leiden: Brill).
4
C h a p t e r 4
Isl amophobia, Defamation of
Religions, and International
Human Rights
Tu r a n K a y a o ğl u
Since 1999, under pressure from Muslim majority states, the United
Nations passed a series of resolutions asking states to combat the defama-
tion of religions. This initiative raises the question: Should there be an
international norm against hate speech targeting a religion? In particular,
is the United Nations Resolution “Combating the Defamation of Reli-
gions” a step forward in developing such a norm? So far these questions
have polarized international society by setting Muslims against Western
liberal democracies. After 12 years of campaign, the supporters of the
Resolution decided not to pursue defamation resolution and joined
major Western states to pass a joint resolution on religious tolerance and
freedom.
While now defunct, this campaign has been important as an example
of both Muslim majority states’ engagement with international human
rights discourse and the substantial issues about hate speech it raised. In
an attempt to circumvent the political and normative polarization the
Resolution has created, I argue that an international norm protecting
minority religions from defamation has signifi cant potential to contrib-
ute not only to the freedom of expression and religion but also to the
political participation of religious minorities. I reconfi gure the debate
by putting the rights of the religious minorities at the center and offer a
framework that can satisfy the demands of both Muslim identity activists
who are concerned about the effects of Islamophobia and liberals who
74 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
are worried about the potential implications of hate speech regulation on
freedom of speech.
I proceed in three sections. I fi rst describe the politics of the Defa-
mation Resolution and the way it has polarized international society.
Second, I highlight the differences between the Western states and
NGOs and the Organization of Islamic Conference (henceforth “OIC”)
on this issue. Third, I argue how refocusing of the debate can narrow, if
not totally eliminate, the differences, making the defamation of religions
an acceptable human rights concern in liberal political theory.
I The Politics of the Defamation
Resolution
The idea that religious minorities need specifi c protections is not new
in international society. From the treaties of Westphalia (1648) to the
various “minority” treaties of the nineteenth century, international law
has advanced the rights of religious minorities. Modern international
human rights law also aims to protect the freedom of religion and to
eliminate religious discrimination; this is most notably embodied in the
UN Declaration on the Elimination of All Forms of Intolerance and of
Discrimination Based on Religion or Belief (1981).1 Yet religious hatred
and public defamation of religions abound, as exemplifi ed by the persis-
tence of anti- Semitism, the association of Judaism with fi nancial domina-
tion and power, by the growth of Islamophobia, the association of Islam
with violence and terrorism, and the presence of Christianophia, the
association of Christianity with Western political and military domina-
tion. The United Nations Special Rapporteur maintains that in all the
above cases, the defamation of religion demonizes the followers of these
religions, creates fear and hatred of them, and thus establishes the politi-
cal and ideological context for the violation of the human rights of their
believers.2
The rise of Islamophobia in Europe illustrates the relationship between
religious hatred and violation of human rights. Various human rights
reports show how Muslims in Europe continue to suffer widespread
discrimination resulting both from Europe’s historical anti- Islam preju-
dices and the post-9/11 political environment. According to the report
of European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia (EUMC),
“Muslims in the European Union: Discrimination and Islamophobia”
(2006), Islamophobia is a form of racism. For that claim, EUMC uses
the defi nition of racism developed by the European Commission against
Racism and Intolerance: “the belief that a ground such as race, colour,
language, religion, national or ethnic origin justifi es contempt for a person
or a group of persons, or the notion of superiority or a person or a group
of persons.”3 Viewing Islamophobia as a form of racism, the EUMC
I s l a m o p h o b i a 75
reports increasing Islamophobia in the post-9/11 political and social
environment; Muslim communities in Europe are subject to widespread
prejudices ranging from manifesting of negative stereotyping to vary-
ing degrees of violence and harassment. Since 9/11 and the increased
efforts to fi ght international terrorism, certain visible minorities, like
Muslims, “have become particularly vulnerable to racism and/or racial
discrimination across many fi elds of public life including education,
employment, housing, access to goods and services, access to public
places and freedom of movement.”4 According to the report, negative
stereotypes marginalize and discriminate Muslims.5 Muslims often face
prejudice and hatred in the form of verbal threats that can escalate to
physical attacks on people and property.6 More than half of Western
Europeans view Muslims with suspicion.7
A second EUMC report, “Perceptions of Discrimination and
Islamophobia” (2006) tells that European Muslims complain about
the media’s negative portrayal of Muslims through distortions or selec-
tive reporting. While respondents concede that the majority of attacks
suffered are mostly verbal rather than physical violence, they note that
they are “worn down” by such daily experiences that are far more likely
to happen when a person is visibly Muslim, such as when wearing a
headscarf.8
The Defamation Resolution
The prior neglect of religious hate speech in international human rights is
puzzling given the origins of the modern human rights movement, which
grew out of a response to the Holocaust.9 The current Muslim- promoted
debate revolves around a series of UN resolutions created fi rst at the
Commission on Human Rights (CHR) and then passed to the current
UN Human Rights Council (HRC) after the dissolution of the former
body. The CHR fi rst accepted an earlier version of the Resolution in
1999, and the UN General Assembly (UNGA) passed the Resolution for
the fi rst time in 2005.10 Marking its Islamic pedigree, the 1999 version
was “Combating initially proposed as of Islam.” Over time the name and
content of the resolution changed. The changes were also the result
of new issues in international relations, like 9/11 and post-9/11 politics
in the West. Also, criticisms voiced by major international actors, such
as the European Union, seem to have infl uenced the text.11 Although
UNGA resolutions are nonbinding, they do have signifi cant moral
authority as they both refl ect and shape the collective expectations of
the international community. These shared expectations of acceptable
standards of behavior in international relations are what legal scholars
call “soft” law and what political scientists call international norms. For
example, the Secretary General of the OIC, Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu, argues
76 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
that the resolution is now “the opinion of international community” and
thus has “international legitimacy.”12 This view, as I argue later, is heavily
contested by Western states and NGOs.
According to the supporters of the Resolution, various UN human
rights documents justify a norm for combating the defamation of reli-
gions. Invoking the UN Charter, the Universal Declaration of Human
Rights, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, and the
Convention on the Elimination of Racial Discrimination, supporters link
their demand for a norm against religious defamation to existing human
rights norms such as combating racial discrimination and the incitement
to religious hatred. Furthermore, supporters refer to various UN initia-
tives such as the Global Agenda for Dialogue among Civilizations, the
Millennium Declaration, and the Durban Declaration, which all urge
the international community to combat racism, xenophobia, and religious
discrimination.
Compatible with these initiatives, the Resolution claims to combat
defamation of religions, particularly Islamophobia. Yet the Resolution
lacks defi nitions of its key terms such as “combating,” “religion,” and
“defamation.” Ambiguity regarding “defamation” is particularly trouble-
some due to its implication for the free speech. Without knowing what
constitutes defamation, how would states combat it and how would the
international community assess if states are genuinely combating religious
defamation or suppressing free speech? Short of a defi nition, the text
of the resolution enumerates examples of the defamation of religions.
These examples hint at the intention of the Resolution’s sponsors. Some
of the examples of the defamation of religions are general: negative
stereotyping of religions, their adherents and sacred persons; attacks on
businesses, cultural centers, and places of worship; dissemination of racist
and xenophobic ideas and material aimed at any religion or its follow-
ers; incitement of religious hatred, hostility, and violence; acts of hatred,
discrimination, intimidation, and coercion; and targeting people on the
basis of their religions. Additionally, the text provides two examples that
are specifi cally about Islam: the identifi cation of Islam with terrorism
and the profi ling of Muslims after 9/11 through laws controlling and
stigmatizing Muslims. These examples include a wide range of behav-
iors and expressions as defamation. While some of them, like “negative
stereotyping of religions” suggest that the resolution may stifl e religious
criticism in violation of the freedom of expression, others, like incitement
to religious hatred, are under the purview of internationally established
norms of human rights.13
The Resolution makes sweeping assertions about the broader prob-
lems of international society, namely, the polarization along cultural
and religious lines similar to what is expressed in Huntington’s clash of
civilization thesis. In response, the resolution stresses the importance
I s l a m o p h o b i a 77
of religious dialogue, tolerance, and diversity and argues that the
defamation of religions stands as a major impediment in realizing the
coexistence of civilizations. Bringing religions in the international agenda
with a religiously positive framework, the resolution pleads for the rec-
ognition of positive contributions of all religions to modern civilization
and international society. It stresses the importance of tolerance of and
respect for religion and belief and calls on states, NGOs, religious bodies,
and the media to acknowledge the realities and the importance of cultural
diversity and pluralism.
The Resolution’s Discontents
Despite its declared intentions, the resolution further divided international
society and became the part of the clash of civilizations it aimed to pre-
vent. The HRC and UNGA voting patterns show how Muslim majority
and Western states disagreed. The only votes against the Resolution came
from Western states. Muslim states had some allies—China, Russia, and
Cuba—all supported the Resolution. Other states in Africa, Asia, and Latin
America either supported the resolution or abstained (see Table 4.1).
The Resolution’s most vocal opponents, like the International Humanist
and Ethical Union,14 argued that the polarized voting record proves that
the Resolution is an Islamist jihad against Western norms of free speech.
While plausible, this argument ignores that the Resolution received
support from non- Muslim majority states in Africa, Latin America,
and Asia. Furthermore, Muslim majority states like Turkey, Tunisia,
Indonesia, Algeria, Senegal, and Mali that are not Islamist are also
supporting the Resolution. Finally, the European and North American
states’ rejection of the Resolution does not stem from a belief that
free speech should never be restricted. Many anti- Resolution states have
their own laws that prohibit hate speech targeting groups on the basis
of race, and also increasingly, religion. Although the United States is the
major exception in this category, the Holocaust denial laws in France
and Germany are examples of how these Western states accept restric-
tions on the freedom of speech in some instances to protect a religious
minority.
II The Normative Divergence
in International Society
In addition to political polarization, the Resolution caused a normative
polarization with both Muslims and those in Western liberal democracies
claiming to have human rights on their side. Even if Western states and
NGOs agree with the principle that religious hatred must be prevented,
Table 4.1 Voting Patterns at the HRC and UNGA
In favor Against Abstaining Non-voting
Human Rights Council Votes
2010 20 17 8
2009 23 9 13
2008 21 10 14
2007 24 14 9
Human Rights Commission Votes
2005 31 16 5
2004 29 16 7
2003 32 14 7
2002i 30 15 8
2001 28 15 9
2009 Votes at the HRC for the Resolutionii
Azerbaijan Canada Argentina
Bahrain Chile Brazil
Bangladesh France Bosnia and Herzegovina*
Cameroon Germany Burkina Faso
Djibouti Italy Ghana
Egypt Netherlands India
Gabon Slovakia Japan
Indonesia Slovenia Madagascar
Jordan Switzerland Mauritius
Malaysia Ukraine Mexico
Nigeria United Kingdom Republic of Korea
Pakistan Uruguay
Qatar Zambia
Saudi Arabia
Senegal
Angola
Bolivia
China
Cuba
Nicaragua
Russia*
Philippines
South Africa
United Nations General Assembly Votes for the Resolution
2010 79 67 40 10
2009 80 61 42 13
2008 86 53 42 11
2007 108 51 25 8
2006 111 54 18 9
2005 101 53 20 17
i Commission on Human Rights, Combating Defamation of Religion. UN Doc. E/2002/
23-E/CN.4/2002/200
ii http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/hrcouncil/docs/10session/edited_versionL.11Revised .
Shaded states are members of the Organization of Islamic Conference; States with * have observer
status at the OIC.
I s l a m o p h o b i a 79
they do not believe that the Defamation Resolution is an appropriate
means to achieve that. These actors object to the Resolution because
they claim it aims to protect religious doctrine not individuals, it legiti-
mizes the suppression of free speech, and it can lead to more religious
hatred. Although the disagreements refl ect real political and moral
confl icts and make an easy compromise diffi cult, the shared discourse
grounded in human rights that the anti- and pro- Resolution groups
invoke to frame their positions indicates a desire to deliberate, negoti-
ate, and contest each others’ positions within the existing human rights
discourse.
Western States and NGOs: Protection of Free Speech
The American government has led the Western opposition to the Reso-
lution. This American leadership makes a compromise unlikely because
of the absolutist view Americans take with regard to free speech, a view
that is exceptional among the Western states. This absolutism draws its
strength from the First Amendment not from international human rights.
American government offers several criticisms to the Resolution.15 To
begin with, the American government points to the futility of hate speech
restrictions in preventing religious hatred; apart from some shallow and
illusionary changes speech restrictions may bring, religious hatred would
likely remain because of deeper and more structural causes. State Depart-
ment offi cials seem to believe that the best way to combat hate speech
is less through government restriction, regulation, and intervention but
rather to let hateful ideas fail on account of their intrinsic lack of merit.
The American government believes that the resolution is incompatible
with human rights law since according to the American government the
Resolution aims to protect religions and not individuals. The U.S. govern-
ment argues that this misplaced protection can undermine human rights
because it permits censorship, which limits freedom of expression, a fun-
damental and more important human right than protection from religious
hatred. Finally, and more ominously the U.S. government claims that
antidefamation attempts would backfi re, producing more religious strife,
not less, because “it would lead to numerous legal claims and counter-
claims between majority and minority religious communities or dissenting
members of a faith. Instead of fostering tolerance, such a standard would
almost certainly lead to a greater confl ict and intolerance.”16
Many NGOs also condemned the Resolution. Among the NGOs that
submitted opinions to the HRC, all but one strongly opposed the Reso-
lution. In their submissions, The Becket Fund for Religious Liberty,17
the American Center for Law & Justice, the European Center for Law &
Justice,18 the International Humanist and Ethical Union (IHEU), the
International Center against Censorship, and the Cairo Institute for
80 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
Human Rights Studies19 all called the Resolution an attack on free
speech. They also noted that the Resolution could jeopardize already
vulnerable religious minorities within Muslim majority states; in particu-
lar, the Ahmadi Muslims in Pakistan and the Bahais in Iran may suffer
because the Resolution would offer a cover for the blasphemy laws in
these countries. Blasphemy laws justify government discrimination and
persecution of these religious minorities whose views differ from the
orthodox Islam. In response to concerns about the freedom of speech
and to fear about blasphemy laws,20 several NGOs formed an advocacy
network, Coalition of Defending Free Speech, to oppose the Resolu-
tion. For the same purpose, another NGO, UN Watch, initiated the
“Joint NGO Statement on Danger of U.N. ‘Defamation of Religions’
Campaign.” The Campaign website shows that the statement has been
signed by 239 NGOs.21
Some of these broadly liberal concerns relate to the content of the
Resolution itself. To begin, the NGOs argue that the concept of “defama-
tion of religions” is fl awed since it is individual believers and nonbelievers
alike who have rights, not religions. Because of the ambiguity resulting
from giving rights to religions, not individuals, the NGOs fear that the
Resolution empowers states to suppress the much- needed criticism of
religions. Also, these NGOs dispute the necessity of a new international
norm for “combating defamation of religions” because they claim that
the existing human rights system already urges states to combat the
incitement to religious hatred. Furthermore, they believe that any speech
short of the incitement to religious hatred, however defamatory, should
be protected not punished.
The NGOs have also concerns external to the substance of the Resolu-
tion. Namely, they point to some disturbing practices among the support-
ers of the Resolution. The NGOs note divergent voting patterns: states
with good human rights records tend to oppose the resolution, while
states with bad human rights records tend to support it. According to
the NGOs, what is more worrisome is that some pro- Resolution states use
blasphemy and heresy laws to suppress the free speech and to discriminate
against minority religions. These critics fear that the Resolution will
legitimize these blasphemy laws, and, at worse, result in their spread.
The Organization of Islamic Conference:
Muslim Minority Rights
Representatives of the OIC reject allegations that the Resolution is
designed to stifl e criticism against Islam. The supporters of the Resolution
note that the defi nition “defamation” of religions has been narrowed to
a more acceptable category: the incitement to religious hatred. They also
point to the protections the Resolution accords to religious minorities.
I s l a m o p h o b i a 81
For example, the OIC representative to the U.N. in Geneva, Ambassador
Babacar Bo, asserts that the OIC supports freedom of expression within
the context of other human rights, stating that he supports the “rights of
all religious minorities, enabling them to lead a life of respect and enjoy
their economic and social rights in an environment free of coercion, fear
and threat.”22 Another OIC diplomat, Mojtaba Amiri Vahid, justifi es
the OIC’s efforts for a norm against defamation of religions by invoking
the rights of Muslims threatened with Islamophobia. He argues that the
freedom of expression must be regulated so that it cannot be used to
undermine the freedom of others. To that end, Vahid suggests the com-
promise of adding a protocol or declaration (to the freedom of speech
articles of the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights spe-
cifi cally to Articles 19 and 20); his proposed statement would affi rm that
the freedom of expression comes with human responsibilities.23
The strongest rejection of the charge that the Resolution is an OIC
attempt to ban the criticism of Islam comes from Secretary General
Ekmeleddin İhsanoğlu. In an interview appearing in Jyllands Posten, the
Danish newspaper with Mohammad Cartoons, İhsanoğlu stated, “We are
neither against criticism of any religion nor calling for banning criticism
of religions.” However, he distinguishes criticism from “campaigns of
insults with apparent or declared intent to incite hatred against the fol-
lowers of” a religion. According to İhsanoğlu, such behavior is not an
exercise in criticizing a religion, but an abuse of the freedom of expres-
sion. Once the purpose of such behavior is “to ridicule and demonize
with the intention to sow seeds of hatred against a group of peoples or
citizens,” this incitement to hatred is an abuse of the freedom of expres-
sion that violates the rights of others. İhsanoğlu thinks thatIslam and
Muslims are, in particular, being targeted with hostility:
What we are saying is that incitement for hatred should not be allowed,
as long as this specifi c act constitutes a crime within the parameters of
international human rights documents, particularly article 20 of the 1966
International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, which requests the
governments to take measures at the national level against incitement of
religious hatred. What we are against is not the criticism of religion per
se but rather the intended objective of this criticism which is, in this case,
jeopardize Muslim rights, by creating an atmosphere of hostility and rancor
which make their life unsafe and strewn with prejudices of all kinds, and this
what international law prohibits.24
Essentially, the OIC objects to the comparison of the Resolution
with blasphemy laws. The OIC defi nes “defamation” of religions nar-
rowly as the vilifi cation of a religion in a way that constitutes the incite-
ment to hatred toward the followers of that religion, as in the case of
Islamophobia. The OIC has started to document Islamophobia with
82 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
monthly reports, and has found that such Islamophobia is widespread in
Western countries.25 In this context, “Islamophobia” is defi ned as a form
of religious hatred that creates a political and ideological environment
that normalizes anti- Muslim policies and trivializes Muslim suffering.
Like EUMC reports I have discussed earlier, the reports of several other
human rights NGOs and IGOs and a series of United Nations Reports
on racial and religious hatred show that this hatred has grown since 9/11
and the terrorist attacks in London and Madrid.26
In sum, both the supporters and critics of the Resolution seem to agree
on the need to protect members of minority religions from the incitement
to hatred. In practice, this would mean like combating Islamophobia
in the West, anti- Semitism in Muslim states, anti- Bahaism in Iran, and
anti- Ahmediaism and Christianophia in Pakistan. Shared concern about
minority religions can form the basis for a compromise about limiting the
freedom of speech in order to protect the rights of religious minorities.
If refocused in this way, the Resolution may move beyond the polarization
it has created. However, any compromise will also need to reconcile the
freedom of speech with the freedom of religion in the context of political
liberalism. Political liberalism is the foundation for the dominant human
rights philosophy and dominant political attitude in Western states.
III Religious Defamation and Political
Liberalism
Can there be an argument grounded in liberal political theory that justi-
fi es the state suppression of free speech in order to protect minority reli-
gions from being defamed? There are at least two liberal answers to this
question: traditional and multicultural. The traditional approach empha-
sizes individual autonomy and abhors state intervention to regulate free
speech. Multicultural approach emphasizes group rights and accom-
modates, and may even require, state intervention to establish equality
between groups and to secure the cultural rights of groups. While some
multicultural policies raise questions about the illiberal implications of
such policies for the even more vulnerable members, like women, in the
minorities, state intervention to prevent powerful groups’ hate speech
defaming minority religions is not associated with similar problems,
thereby establishing a strong multicultural argument for the state inter-
vention to limit free speech in order to protect minority religions.
Freedom of expression is essential in the traditional liberal theory of
human rights, due to both its substantive importance in political and
social liberties and its instrumental value in achieving other rights. The
most well- known defense of free speech is offered by John Stuart Mill
who contends that the suppression of speech, particularly political speech,
is wrong because the silenced opinion might be true and that, moreover,
I s l a m o p h o b i a 83
all opinions contain some element of the truth. Even a speech false in its
totality should not be suppressed because such speech is instrumental in
reminding people of the truth and its justifi cation.
The binary categories of truth and falsehood are not the only possible
categories of speech; traditional liberal theory does not deny the existence
of hate speech. It, however, does deny the government’s role and effi –
ciency in addressing hate speech. Similar to liberal skepticism about the
government’s intervention into free markets, this traditional view main-
tains that the remedy for hate speech is not regulation but more speech.
In the “marketplace” of speech, every idea will be judged based on its
own merit and good ideas will drive bad ones out of the public sphere. In
this theory, the biggest threat to the freedom of speech comes from the
government, silencing speech and thus limiting the exchange of ideas.
In extreme cases, the liberal theory concedes that the government can
restrict speech only for cases in which speech creates immediate danger
and violence. This is similar to First Amendment jurisprudence in the
United States: While the First Amendment of the U.S. Constitution
guarantees freedom of speech without qualifi cations, the U.S. Supreme
Court’s interpretations acknowledge some limitations, such as the
government’s obligation to regulate so- called fi ghting words if a speaker
uses them with the intention of causing immediate danger and violence.
These exacting requirements create a very high threshold for government
restriction of speech in the United States.
Building on traditional liberal theory and First Amendment protec-
tions, the U.S. government and NGOs stress the importance of freedom of
speech for the members of minority groups. An environment of free speech
empowers vulnerable groups because it allows them to voice their demands
without fear of persecution and to achieve other rights as a consequence of
speaking about the inequalities and discrimination they experience. Thus,
not surprisingly, in their taxonomy of human rights, Jack Donnelly and
Rhoda E. Howard label freedom of expression as an “empowerment” right
through which individuals can realize their human rights.27
I agree that minority groups would be more disadvantaged in the
absence of free speech. But the free speech also creates some unfavorable
consequences for the minorities. An absolute free speech environment
without attention to unequal power relations in the society or to the
differential ability of groups to access the media can further disempower
and harm vulnerable groups. For example, in an environment charac-
terized by patriarchy, homophobia, and racism, free speech empowers
male, heterosexual, white perspectives and marginalizes female, gay, and
black perspectives. This is because power in society is relational; that is, it
exists as a matter of relationships—not as an individual quality—between
speakers and the groups with which the speakers are identifi ed. Although
group identities and positions in society are socially constructed,
84 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
disproportionate access to media and politics allows already dominant
groups to construct the subordinate groups’ identities and positions.28
While supporters of free speech paint the free market of ideas in ideal-
istic terms, in the real world the market does not allow all participants to
have their voices heard. Paradoxically, the practice of free speech reinforces
the status quo by ensuring the validity of dominant views and silencing
and dismissing the views that challenge the power structure.29 By sustain-
ing existing social, cultural, and linguistic inequalities, free speech has the
potential to become a tool for powerful groups to target and silence vul-
nerable groups.30 Without any checks, powerful groups would continue to
marginalize and demonize lesser groups. Various forms of subordination
would be perpetuated through hate speech and its power to defi ne—and
defame—identity and place in society. In other words, in addition to what
is said, one should think about who says what to whom with an awareness
of the history and power relations between them to assess whether partic-
ular expressions constitute incitement to hatred.31 With these contextual
elements, some forms of speech can constitute an incitement to religious
hatred and can thus cease to be protected speech.
The arguments of the critical race theorists with respect to blacks
and the arguments for the feminist theorists with respect to women also
describe the situation of Muslims in the West. In the Western public
sphere, the Muslim identity has been constructed not by Muslims but by
Islamophobic groups.32 Debates concerning Islam often become one- sided
generalizations about Islam and Muslims with ideologically and politically
committed Islamophobic groups dominating the media, politics, and reli-
gious organizations. Some of these generalizations attribute criminalizing
qualities to Muslims through Muslim identity markers: jihad as a holy
war, Muhammad as a pedophile, the Quran as a fascist book, Islam as fas-
cism, and Muslims as terrorists. This rhetoric and its implications lead to a
perception within “the Muslim community that they cannot ‘defend their
side’ without being accused of being terrorists” or being seen as disloyal
to their states in the West. Thus, Islamophobia creates an environment
that denies Muslims the right to freedom of expression, including defi ning
who they are and what they believe. Muslims, a group whose political and
civil rights are more at stake than those of any other group in the West
in the post-9/11 environment, often lack access to media and politics to
participate effectively in deliberations about the issues that infl uence them
the most. Conversely, combating Islamophobia can contribute to a healthy
public debate, particularly in situations where the entrenched disparities of
media, organizational frameworks, and fi nancial capabilities prevent reli-
gious minorities from accessing the means of deliberation and thus experi-
encing the genuine implementation of freedom of expression and speech.
Combating Islamophobia is also important to create conditions for
debates within Muslim communities in the West. Islamophobia infl ames
I s l a m o p h o b i a 85
emotions and religious zeal; rather than the growth of reasoned discus-
sion it results in the empowerment of radicals and the weakening of
moderate Muslims. It empowers radicals by justifying their positions
regarding the irreconcilable animosity of non- Muslims toward Muslims.
In an environment of defamation, moderate Muslims resist raising
critiques of their coreligionists both for the fear of their position being
identifi ed with Islamophobic groups and for the fear of giving Islamo-
phobic groups arguments that they can use against Islam and Muslims.
Islamophobia undermines moderate Muslim voices and prevents debates
among Muslims, serving to unite all Muslims around the common inter-
est created by defending themselves from Islamophobia.
The traditional approach to freedom of speech often neglects the harm
hate speech can infl ict on members of already marginalized groups. Even
if the vulnerable minority groups have ability to response hate speech
with speech, speech cannot prevent both the possibility of hate speech
leading to hate crimes and the possibility of hate speech infl icting pain
and humiliation. For example, according to U.N. Special Rapporteur
on the Promotion and Protection of the Right to Freedom of Opinion
and Expression, many Muslims in Denmark believe that the Muhammed
drawings were part of a systematic campaign to denigrate Muslims and
affi rm the supremacy of Danish values. Due to this Islamophobic envi-
ronment, “Muslims in Denmark reportedly decided to adopt a very low
profi le in public life, an attitude that was defi ned as self- censorship, as
they thought that they could easily have become target of harsh criticism
even without any specifi c reason.”33 This paradox of the effects of free
speech in silencing marginalized and vulnerable groups, such as religious
minorities, requires an analysis that considers the unequal power relations
when evaluating utterances about one’s identity and religion.
Political theorist Geoffrey B. Levey and sociologist Tariq Modood
assert concisely that “context is everything” and illustrates this point
within the experience of European Muslims: “One can image cases where
the mere depiction of Muhammad might constitute hate speech; for
example, if streets in a Muslim neighborhood were adorned with post-
ers of Muhammad’s image under cover of darkness.”34 The history of
Islamophobia in the West and power relations between largely immigrant
minority Muslim communities facing a hostile social and political environ-
ment characterized by powerful Islamophobic groups creates a context
that requires lowering threshold for hate speech targeting Islam in these
countries.
This protection is important in environments where dominant groups
demonstrated a tendency to use religious hate speech to provoke racism
and xenophobia. The remarks of Geert Wilders and Susanne Winter are
examples of these types of speech in which antireligious rhetoric become
a cover for racial and xenophobic speech. Similar rhetoric can be seen in
86 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
the propaganda of the British right- wing party, the British National Party.
The Party replaces racist speech with anti- Islamic messages to avoid legal
action under the British Racial Act law. This excerpt from the Party’s
website, featured in an article called ‘The Islamic Menace” shows how an
attack on the Prophet Muhammad becomes a means to demonize and
attack Muslims as a group: “The hidden epidemic of molestation, abduc-
tions and rape of scores of white girls in northern English cities, all show
the inherent tendency that the teachings of the pedophile Muhammed
have had on some of his followers.”35 Considering the context—the racist
orientation of the Party and Muslims’ position in England as a margin-
alized minority—the statement about “the pedophile Muhammad” is
a rhetorical device conjuring for Muslims- as- sex- criminals. The entire
statement thus becomes anti- Muslim hate speech targeting a religious
minority in England, rather than a speculation about historical Muham-
mad to be considered under protected speech.
There seems to be growing acceptance regarding the idea of prevent-
ing hate speech targeting religious minorities in liberal democracies that
emphasize multiculturalism. Rhoda E. Howard-Hassmann’s study of
Canadian civic leaders shows that these civic leaders often distinguish
between blasphemy targeting minority religions in Canada, like Islam
and Judaism, from speech aimed at majority religions. These civic leaders
readily agree that blasphemy against a minority religion constitutes hate
speech.36 Their conviction seems to be based on the belief that identity
is essential to one’s self- respect and that these individuals in minority
should be protected from speech that violates that identity, particularly
if such violations perpetuate prejudice and discrimination.37 According
to Howard- Hassmann, these civic leaders take a moral position of equal
concern and respect, and they want to protect religious minorities from
hate speech even if that requires limiting the free speech of majority.38
A 2006 British law balances freedom of speech with protections
against hate speech. The United Kingdom’s Racial and Religious Hatred
Law outlaws the incitement of hatred against persons on religious
grounds. The law stipulates that “[a] person who uses threatening words
or behavior, or displays any written material which is threatening, is guilty
of an offence if he intends thereby to stir up religious hatred.” The law
distinguishes the legitimate criticism and insults of religion from the
criminal act of inciting hate through a double requirement: a test of con-
tent, not merely the criticism of any religion but the actual threatening
words or behavior; and a test of intention, the objective of stirring of reli-
gious hatred. Some Muslim groups criticized the legislation because the
requirement of intention to cause hatred created a very high standard of
proof.39 There are also questions if the legislation can withstand challenge
from free speech groups at the European Court of Human Rights.40
I s l a m o p h o b i a 87
Conclusion
While the OIC- led campaign for “Combating Defamation of Religions”
was defeated by liberal state and pro- free speech groups, the political
and normative debates around the Resolution highlight the need for
strong protection of religious minorities than the current international
human rights system provides. In this chapter I raised two arguments:
First, while some normative differences between the supporters and the
critics of the United Nations Resolution “Combating Defamation of
Religions” remain, shifting the debate from free speech versus defama-
tion of religions to a focus on the protection of minority religions would
have brought Muslims and those in liberal democracies closer. Second,
a liberal political theory that emphasizes multiculturalism and the need
of minorities may potentially accommodate government’s role in com-
bating the defamation of minority religions.
Notes
1. UN Doc. A/36/684 (36/55) Adopted by the General Assembly on
November 25, 1981. Also see The Challenge of Religious Discrimination
at the Dawn of the New Millennium, ed. Nazila Ghanea, 2003. Leiden:
Martinus Nijhoff Publishers.
2. The report of the UN Special Rapporteur of contemporary forms of rac-
ism, racial discrimination, xenophobia, and related intolerance. UN Doc.
A/HRC/9/12.
3. European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia. Muslims
in the European Union (2006). http://fra.europa.eu/fraWebsite/
attachments/Manifestations_EN (accessed on August 20, 2011),
pp. 13–15. The report invokes the ECRI’s General Policy Recommendation
(No. 7). The report also invokes Council of Europe’s two General
Policy Recommendations of European Commission against Racism and
Intolerance (ECRI): General Policy Recommendation No. 5 combat-
ing intolerance and discrimination against Muslims (CRI (2000) 21)
and General Policy Recommendation No. 7 on national legislation to
combat racism and racial discrimination (CRI (2003) 8). The European
Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia was replaced by the
European Union Agency for Fundamental Rights (FRA) in 2007. FRA’s
annual report (2008) contains a section on anti- Semitism but not on
Islamophobia.
4. Ibid., p. 14.
5. European Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia. Perceptions
of Discriminiation and Islamophobia. (2006). http://fra.europa.eu/
fraWebsite/attachments/Perceptions_EN (accessed on August 20
2011), pp. 3–4.
6. Ibid., p. 8.
7. Ibid., p. 10.
88 Tu r a n K aya o ğl u
8. Ibid., pp. 8–9
9. Micheline R. Ishay. 2004. The History of Human Rights. Berkeley:
California University Press. Pp. 241–243.
10. UN Doc. A/RES/60/150.
11. See the latest version of the resolution, UN Doc. A/RES/62/154. For
EU criticism of Combating Defamation of Religions (November 20,
2007), see http://www. europa- eu-un.org/articles/fr/article_7543_fr.
htm (accessed on March 1, 2009).
12. See the interview of the Secretary General with Jyllands Posten
(October 28, 2008). http://www.oicun.org/uploads/fi les/articles/
Jyllands%20Posten%20 Interview (accessed on August 20, 2011).
13. Patrick Thornberry, “Form of Hate Speech and the Convention on the
Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD),” 19. UN
Doc. A/RES/62/154.
14. See appendix B of report by International Humanist and Ethical Union and
UK National Secular Society “Concerns about Undue Religious Infl uence
and Religious Activities Compromising Human Rights” (July 31, 2007),
http://www.secularism.org.uk/uploads/3546cec0d096448823933094.
pdf (accessed on March 17, 2009).
15. “United States Government Response to the United Nations Offi ce of
the High Commissioner for Human Rights Concerning Combating Def-
amation of Religions” (July 11, 2008), http://geneva.usmission.gov/
Press2008/July/0715DefamationReligions.html (accessed January 15,
2009). European Union’s position is also similar to that of the American
position. See EU Presidency’s explanation of vote on Combating
Defamation of Religions (November 20, 2007), http://www. europa- eu-
un.org/articles/fr/article_7543_fr.htm (accessed March 1, 2009).
16. United States Government Response to the United Nations Offi ce of the
High Commissioner for Human Rights concerning Combating Defama-
tion of Religions.
17. Becket Fund for Religious Liberty. Issue Brief on “Combating Defamation
of Religions,” http://www.becketfund.org/fi les/a9e5b (accessed on
March 19, 2009).
18. For its report, see http://www.eclj.org/PDF/080626_ECLJ_submission_
to_OHCHR_on_Combating_Defamation_of_Religions_June2008
(accessed on August 20, 2011).
19. UN Doc. A/HRC/9/NGO/15.
20. Also see, Steve Edwards. 2008. “The Trouble with Religious Hatred
Laws,” Policy 24(3): 38–46.
21. http://www.unwatch.org/site/apps/nlnet/content2.aspx?c=bdKKISN
qEmG&b=1330815&ct=6859557 (accessed on August 20, 2011).
22. Cited in Marc Perelman, “U.S. Mounting Effort to Counter Limits on
Speech Critical of Islam,” (October 2, 2008), http://www.forward.
com/articles/14318 (accessed on March 1, 2009).
23. Remarks by Mojtaba Amiri Vahid at the Concluding Session of the
Seminar on Articles 19 and 20 (Geneva, October 2, 2008), at http://
www. oic- un.org/document_report/Amiri_15_oct_2008 (accessed
on March 5, 2009).
I s l a m o p h o b i a 89
24. Interview of the Secretary General with Jyllands Posten (October 28,
2008). http://www.oicun.org/uploads/fi les/articles/Jyllands%20Poste
n%20Interview (accessed on August 20, 2011).
25. For First OIC Observatory Report on Islamophobia, see http://www.
oic- un.org/document_report/observatory_report_fi nal (accessed on
August 20, 2011).
26. UN Doc. A/HRC/9/12 and UN Doc. A/HRC/2/3.
27. Jack Donnelly and Rhoda E. Howard. 1988. “Assessing National Human
Rights Performance,” Human Rights Quarterly 10(2): 214–248.
28. Chris Demaske. 2009. Modern Power and Free Speech. Lanham, MD:
Lexington Books, p. 74.
29. Ibid., pp. 14–19.
30. Ibid., p. 60.
31. Ibid. p. 7.
32. Maxim Grinberg. 2006. “Defamation of Religions v. Freedom of Expres-
sion: Finding the Balance in a Democratic Society,” Sri Lanka Journal of
International Law (18): 1–22.
33. UN Doc. E/CN.4/2005/64, Report of the Special Rapporteur on the
Promotion and Protection of the Right to Freedom of Opinion and
Expression.
34. Geoffrey B. Levey and Tariq Modood. 2009. “Liberal Democracy,
multicultural citizenship and the Danish cartoon affair,” in Secularism,
Religion, and Multicultural Citizenship, ed. Geoffrey B. Levey and Tariq
Modood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, p. 225.
35. Cited in Kay Goodall, 2007. “Incitement to Religious Hatred: All Talk
and No Substance?” Modern Law Review, 70(1): 94.
36. Rhoda E. Howard- Hassmann. 2000. “Canadians Discuss Freedom of
Speech: Individual Rights Versus Groups,” International Journal of
Minority and Group Rights 7: 109–138.
37. Ibid., p. 133.
38. Ibid. p. 127.
39. Tariq Modood. 2009. “Muslims, Religious Equality and Secularism,”
in Secularism, Religion, and Multicultural Citizenship, ed. Geoffrey
B. Levey and Tariq Modood. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press,
pp. 171–172.
40. Ben Clarke. 2007. “Freedom of Speech and Criticism of Religion: What
are the Limits?” Murdoch University E Law Journal 14(2): 94–121.
4
P a r t I I
Introduction II : Common
Goals and C ase Studies
Throughout history everywhere, minorities and other marginalized
groups (e.g., women) have invariably been victimized by elites— especially
in war and times of domestic instability. While there is a consensus that it is
vitally important that such victims be provided with some basic protection
or assistance, the fact remains that the resultant humanitarian reaction has
all too often fallen short of meeting this colossal challenge. The question of
how to address the inhumane treatment of vulnerable groups in countries
that are in confl ict, undergoing democratic transition, or under authoritar-
ian rule looms larger today than ever before. In addition to political exclu-
sion, gaping inequalities and social injustice illustrate burgeoning concerns
surrounding the protection of rights for minorities and the marginalized.
It may be that the rise of a human rights discourse and culture makes these
long- standing inequalities and victimizations seem greater.
Contributors to this section argue that the lack of attention to the treat-
ment of nonelites, minorities, and women will have dire consequences. The
case studies of the Kurds, Iranian theocracy, women’s rights in Turkey, and
minorities in Egypt, Iraq, Lebanon, and Turkey will be investigated with an
eye toward addressing the most effective way to protect their rights. Perhaps
the best approach to dealing with the issue of safeguarding human rights
under theocratic systems and protecting the rights of minorities—suffering
from ethnicity, sectarianism, and/or gender- based discrimination—is to
rely on the acceptability of broad universal principles that avoid pitting one
group’s rights against those of another. It is important to bear in mind that
the key to upholding rights is the principle of universality while allowing for
positive distinction or affi rmative action as a form of inequality.
Nader Entessar writes that the geostrategic map of the region has
changed since the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the overthrow of Saddam
Hussein’s regime. The Iraqi Kurds have gained a measure of political
freedom that had eluded them for much of their recent history, and the
Kurdish struggle in the rest of the region continues unabated. The notion
of universal human rights has gained increasing currency as a pillar of the
obligations that nation- states accept since the end of World War II, and
more recently the codifi cation of these rights has begun to challenge the
state- centric focus of international law. It should be noted that there are
no clear- cut and universally accepted formulae for resolving human rights
problems in ethnically heterogeneous societies. The key here is that under
the principle of national self- determination, there has never been a set of
international rules to specify who precisely is a national people entitled to
exercise secession from an existing state. Taking the principle of national
self- determination and converting it into a people’s collective human right
has not changed the fact of absence of specifi c rules guiding application of
the general principle, whether for the Kurds or the Kosovars.
As the Kurdish case demonstrates, intricate political, societal, and
historical variables, as well as competing ethnic claims and counterclaims,
tend to generate a circular logic that pits one nationality group against
another. This logic can contribute to a worst case scenario wherein an
ethnic siege mentality can confound the improvement of human rights
conditions for many affected people. The application of the principle has
to be negotiated, as in the former Czechoslovakia, or fought over, as in
the former Yugoslavia. There is, therefore, nothing unique about the
Middle Eastern region. Iraqi Kurds face the same options as do south
Sudanese: negotiate collective rights or fi ght over them.
Barbara Rieffer- Flanagan points out that Iran’s political system is far
from a mature, liberal democracy that guarantees its citizens basic inter-
nationally recognized human rights. Although various human rights—
including freedom of speech, press, assembly, the right to a fair trial, due
process, and bodily integrity—are often violated due to perceived threats
to those in power, it is possible to identify some limited progress on many
second generation rights such as improved health care and education.
Since real and perceived threats account for some of the human rights
violations in Iran, removing threats will be essential to improving human
rights protection in the future. Given some of the limited progress on
second generation rights and the fact that political elites are using the
language of international human rights, there is some basis for hope
for the future. But critics would argue that the threats to the continued
existence and/or dominant position of the authoritarian elite would
seem more intractable. Broad political rights are one thing, some relative
advances of right to education and health care are entirely different. In
this fundamental sense, Iran is not unique compared to China. It appears
92 C o m m o n G o a l s a n d C a s e S t u d i e s
that human rights discourse and some limited human rights progress can
in fact be contained and controlled by elite, allowing more often than not
policy- making system to remain authoritarian.
Rieffer- Flanagan concludes that when coupled with the fact that Iran
has generally (2009 was an exception) held regular elections in which
Iranian citizens are able to vote for a narrow list of candidates, and the
fact that the theocracy that Khomeini created is far more inclusive than
many of the political systems found in the Middle East, or under the
Pahlavi regime, there is some basis for improved human rights protection
in the future. While the road is not guaranteed, the less threatened the
regime feels, the greater chance there is for improved human rights pro-
tections in Iran. The question persists: Will the practice of limited rights
spill over into an expanded conception of rights, including rights of full
political participation? If the answer is yes, then the issue is not unique to
the Middle Eastern region.
Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat turns to the case of Turkey, arguing that sub-
ordination of women in Muslim communities and states has been prob-
lematized by many, ranging from those Muslim Feminists who focus on
sociohistorical factors, to Orientalists who essentialize religion and berate
Islam. However, the secularist and republican regime of the predomi-
nantly Muslim- populated Turkey has been treated as an exceptional case
by many scholars. Some improvement regarding the status of women in
Turkey is undeniably observed; however, it bears noting that the country
has been far from granting equal rights to women and approaching gen-
der equality. The state agencies and major political actors have subscribed
to traditional gender notions, and women face all forms of discrimination
and human rights violations. Women in Indonesia, China, or the Islamic
parts of India face similar challenges and obstacles. The women’s move-
ment, as experts remind us, is weak in relation to the state in Indonesia.
Only when the state has been weak, women have had more freedom to
organize, but even then they had relied more on their own resources.
The Chinese laws provide equal rights for women in several spheres,
including ownership of property, inheritance, and educational opportu-
nities. Women’s organizations in China, albeit under the control of the
Chinese Community Party (CCP), are able to effectively advocate and
promote their agenda. But nevertheless in those situations when women’s
rights confl ict with the interests of the CCP or government policy, the
latter prevails. Too often, abuses related to the family planning policy, do-
mestic violence, and sexual traffi cking are blocked from being publicly
reported in the media—not to mention that the restrictions on the free-
dom of expression and association have negative impacts on womens’
human rights as well. Similarly, women in Muslim communities of
India face a myriad of diffi culties as citizens of India as well as members
of India’s largest minority. Their poor socioeconomic conditions and
C o m m o n G o a l s a n d C a s e S t u d i e s 93
marginal status are emblematic of a lack of social opportunity within
the broader context of India’s unequal and gender- biased social climate.
These examples serve to elucidate the fact that the Middle East is far from
unique in its human rights problems.
Examining the case of minorities and marginalized groups in the
Middle East, Mahmood Monshipouri and Jonathon Whooley argue that
the status of minorities in the Middle East is more heavily infl uenced
by the political, legal, economic, social, and cultural circumstances than
religious differences. By conducting a comparative analysis of minorities
in Egypt, Turkey, Lebanon, and Iraq, Monshipouri and Whooley demon-
strate that to the extent that minorities remain marginal, many policy-
makers wrongly construct their grievances, activities, and identities as an
existential threat to the national security of the countries in which they
reside. In virtually all cases examined here, including the Kurdish leaders
and groups, parties in Turkey and Iraq, the Druze population of Lebanon,
and the Copts in Egypt, participation in the political process may create
a sustainable platform for advancing the causes of those minorities. The
question arises: Are the Bahais—a religious minority not recognized as
the People of the Book by Muslims—a special case precisely because of
religion? A narrow or traditional view of Islam sees them as beyond the
pale of decent treatment precisely because they are different from Chris-
tians and Jews or represent challenges to monotheistic traditions. But has
not the state of Israel caused Jews to be more persecuted than prior to
when it was formed: 1947–1948? In that case, it is not a narrow view of
Islam but a political development that has intensifi ed persecution.
94 C o m m o n G o a l s a n d C a s e S t u d i e s
4
C h a p t e r 5
Human Rights and the Kurdish
Question in the Middle East
N a d e r E n t e s s a r
Human Rights and the Ethnic Question
The Middle East has undergone signifi cant sociopolitical change since
the end of the Cold War. In particular, the geostrategic map of the
region has changed since the U.S. invasion of Iraq and the overthrow
of Saddam Hussein’s regime. The Iraqi Kurds have gained a measure of
political freedom that had eluded them for much of their recent history,
and the Kurdish struggle in the rest of the region continues unabated.
The notion of universal human rights has gained increasing currency as
a pillar of the obligations that nation- states have come to accept since
the end of World War II when the codifi cation of these rights began
to challenge the state- centric focus of international law. This chapter
examines the modalities of enhancing the human rights of the Kurds in
Iran, Iraq, and Turkey and examines the complexities of issues involved
in this process.
Since the end of World War II, the United Nations has made some
noteworthy attempts to tackle ethnic and minority abuses, including
the adoption of landmark treaties such as the Genocide Convention of
1948, the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms
of Racial Discrimination (adopted by the UN General Assembly in
1965), and the International Convention on the Suppression and the
Punishment of the Crimes of Apartheid (passed by the General Assem-
bly in 1973).1 Of these, the Genocide Convention has the most direct
applicability to Kurdish conditions during periods of extreme, overt
96 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
suppression, for example, in Iraq during the 1991 suppression of the
Kurdish uprising.
Genocide, which means “any act committed with the intent to destroy,
in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial, or religious group,”2 has
been applied to the victims of the Holocaust in Nazi Germany. Article 2
of the Genocide Convention defi nes this offense as incorporating any of
the following acts:
killing members of the group;
causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;
deliberately infl icting on the group conditions of life calculated to
bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;
imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group; [or]
forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.3
Parties to the Genocide Convention agreed to enact domestic legisla-
tion to provide penalties for individuals guilty of committing genocide.
In addition, Article 8 of the Convention stipulates that a party to the
Convention may call upon the United Nations to take appropriate mea-
sures to prevent or suppress acts of genocide.
When analyzing the Kurdish situation, one can argue that the fi rst
three acts listed above have, at times, applied to the treatment of the
Kurds in Iraq and Turkey, and to some extent in Iran, in the recent
past. It would be exceedingly diffi cult, however, to charge the govern-
ments of those countries with genocide against their Kurdish popula-
tion (with the possible exception of the Anfal campaign conducted
by Saddam Hussein’s regime) because similar suppression of ethnic
minorities occurs regularly in many other member states of the United
Nations.
Harff and Gurr have identifi ed 45 instances of genocide and “politi-
cide” committed by states against their populations since World War II.4
Although there is no universally accepted defi nition of “politicide,” Harff
and Gurr have defi ned the term to mean the promotion and execution of
state policies that result in the deaths of a substantial number of members
of groups whose political opposition or hierarchical position places them
in direct confrontation with the regime in power. Suppression and large-
scale killings of members of such groups are labeled as “geno/politicide”
committed by the state.5 In their typology of geno/politicide, Harff and
Gurr have identifi ed Iraqi Kurds as victims of “repressive/hegemonic
politicide,” and Iranian Kurds as victims of “revolutionary politicide.”6
The operational utility of these terms, however, remains questionable and
may lead to the vague and problematic extension of genocide to all types
of violent suppression of dissent.
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H u m a n R i g h t s 97
Constitutional/Legal Approaches:
Federalism as a Panacea?
The foregoing discussion clearly demonstrates the limitations of
international legal remedies in enhancing minority rights in an interna-
tional order dominated by state- centric views and institutions. However,
laws can be effectively used to promote constitutional and legal arrange-
ments that can lead to the accommodation of minority rights and the
lessening of ethnic tensions in multiethnic societies.7 For example, consti-
tutional and statutory reforms can be implemented to protect the status
of minorities. These reforms can be aimed at specifi c institutional arrange-
ments to ensure equal treatment for members of ethnic minorities not only
by the state apparatus, but also by private institutions and individuals.8
Nondiscrimination statutes, which have been enacted in the United States
since the 1960s, are examples of these reforms. Of course, such statutes
should not be duplicated in countries whose legal systems and institutions
are vastly different from the Anglo- Saxon model. Nonetheless, legisla-
tion already exists to implement indigenously designed “equal rights” in
Iran, Iraq, and Turkey. Electoral laws, systems of proportional representa-
tion, and the like are useful beginnings in seriously dealing with the inte-
gration of the Kurds into the mainstream of sociopolitical life.
A carefully crafted constitutional scheme leading to the establishment
of a genuine pluralistic polity is the best means to promote Kurdish
rights in Iran, Iraq, and Turkey. Assimilation, which has characterized
Turkey’s Kurdish policy, may succeed in the short run in stemming the
tide of ethnonationalism. In the long run, however, the human and
material costs to the state of forced assimilation are likely to be quite
high, resulting in, among other things, the rise of armed resistance
movements by the affected minority. In addition, assimilation carries a
negative connotation because it implies the superiority of the dominant
group’s culture.
Pluralism, on the other hand, creates a condition of diversity with
unity, in which ethnic groups coexist in a territorial state in a relationship
of interdependence. In many ways, the multiethnic empires of the Middle
East, such as the Persian and Ottoman empires, were characterized by
ethnic pluralism. It was only after the creation of the European- style
nation- state system that ethnic chauvinism replaced old loyalties and pat-
terns of interaction that had developed over the centuries among various
ethnic groups in Iranian and Turkish domains. Furthermore, for plural-
ism to succeed in multiethnic societies there must be a “large measure of
freedom within the state for minorities in the interest of real rather than
formal equality.”9 Various autonomy agreements signed between the pre-
2003 Iraqi governments and the Kurds failed because of the absence of
real equality for the Kurds.
98 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
All in all, two desirable techniques, both of which require constitutional
restructuring, can be mentioned as desirable ways to reduce confl ict
between the Kurds and the central authorities in Iran, Iraq, and Turkey.
First, the establishment of genuine federal structures and a move away
from the strong centralism that characterizes all three countries can
help bring about democratic, participatory systems. Nigeria, with its
myriad of ethnic and religious groups, has had modest success in reduc-
ing ethnic violence through its functioning federalism. In today’s Iraq,
federalism is still a work in progress and may indeed result in realization
of long- sought Kurdish rights in that country.10 Iraq’s 2005 constitu-
tion has envisioned a federal system, largely based on the recognition of
the country’s main ethnic groups. This process must be implemented in
stages and not imposed in a short time frame. Imposed federalism would
likely fail in the long run, as it did in the former Yugoslavia in 1991. Each
country will have to develop its federal structure within its own unique
political milieu and with respect to its own unique Kurdish issues.
Second, changes in electoral laws, which can be implemented without a
federal system, can help establish a system of proportional representation.11
Although this system of representation could lead to the proliferation of
political parties and unstable coalition governments, it would provide
equitable avenues for ethnic groups to develop a stake in the viability of
the larger state. In other words, if ethnic minorities were not underrepre-
sented in the decision- making institutions of the national government, as
has historically been the case with the Kurds, they would develop greater
loyalty to the broader interests of the state. This, in turn, could lead to the
development of political alignments that are based on broader interests
than the parochial interests of ethnic groups. Ethnic identifi cation, and
demands for the recognition of ethnic rights, most likely would persist,
even with successful constitutional restructuring. However, such ethnic
demands would be less likely to lead to violent confl ict if avenues for
genuine political participation were open to all groups.
Still, as Reidar Visser has argued, federal schemes in Iraq based on the
presumed natural division of the country into Sunni Arabs, Shi’a Arabs,
and Kurds may be counterproductive because such a plan reduces Iraqi
regionalism as a “residual category forever consigned to a secondary role
in Iraqi history and subordinate to ‘primordial’ ethnic identities, . . .”12
Visser’s thesis is that regional identities in Iraq compete with ethnic iden-
tities. As for Iraqi Kurdistan,
many analysts argue that what was formerly often described as “internal
regional tensions” between eastern and western parts of Kurdistan are
now a thing of the past. Nevertheless, the process of establishing a Kurd-
ish region within a federated Iraq is in itself an act of regionalism: Kurdish
leaders thereby seek a pragmatic role for themselves as Kurds within an
H u m a n R i g h t s 99
Iraqi federation, separate from the much wider Kurdish world, and at least
partially in opposition to pan- Kurdish nationalist sentiment that calls for
Kurdish unifi cation on a far larger scale.13
Aside from political engineering, some have argued that to promote
ethnic peace or ethnic coexistence, governments must reduce their
involvement in the country’s economy. Steinberg and Saideman have
studied the role of economic rents in political competition in multi-
national societies. Using data from the Index of Economic Freedom
and the Minorities at Risk project, they demonstrate that government
involvement in the economy of multiethnic countries increases ethnic
tension and leads to different forms of ethnic rebellion irrespective of the
structure of the government (e.g., federal or unitary).14
Federalism, even under the best of circumstances, does not neces-
sarily address the thorny problem of intragroup divisions. In cases of
prolonged and violent ethnic confl icts, leaders of contending nationalities
seek to mobilize their communities under the banner of “homogeneous
interests, or needs, that are argued to be under threat” from without.15
However, as Caspersen has argued, disunity prevails and factional confl ict
appears inherent in ethnic politics.”16 Of course, intraethnic rivalry could
be based on turf war, distribution of resources, and a host of similar
variables. We have already witnessed these types of confl icts among the
contending forces in Iraqi, Turkish, and Iranian Kurdistan. In short,
federalism, although appealing in theory, may not address fundamental
issues that are faced by competing nationalities in the Middle East.
Kurdish Human Rights in the Reform
and Post- Reform Eras in Iran
The political changes in Iran since the mid-1990s have coincided with
the development of internal fi ssures in the Kurdish Democratic Party of
Iran (KDPI), the largest Iranian Kurdish movement in Iranian Kurdistan.
After the September 1992 assassination of Sadeq Sharafkandi, the KDPI’s
secretary general, in the Mykonos restaurant in Berlin by agents of the
Iranian government, the KDPI experienced serious internal friction.
Mostafa Hejri (the KDPI’s current secretary general) and Abdullah
Hassanzadeh challenged each other for the leadership position, with
Hejri ultimately prevailing in this power struggle.
The internal Kurdish factionalism in Iran coincided with major
political changes in the country. The election of Mohammad Khatami
as Iran’s president in May 1997 and the defeat of conservative forces
in the February 2000 parliamentary elections generated a great deal of
expectation for political change in Iran. As Khatami had stated, “We
cannot expect any positive transformations anywhere [in Iran] unless the
100 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
yearning for freedom is fulfi lled. That is the freedom to think and the
security to express new thinking.”17 Furthermore, Khatami, from the
beginning of his presidency, emphasized the notion of inclusiveness, or
“Iran for all Iranians” as he called it, and the importance of the rule of law
in nurturing and enhancing the foundation of Iran’s political system. The
Kurds, like many other Iranian citizens, welcomed Khatami’s election.
The reform movement (the Second of Khordad Movement) that brought
Khatami to power and provided him with political backing proved to be
weak. In addition to the constitutional limits imposed on the authority
of the president, Khatami and his supporters were challenged in all arenas
by their conservative opponents. When challenged, Khatami always con-
ceded. The closing down of the reformist newspapers and organizations
as well as jailing of supporters of political reform went unchallenged by
Khatami, save occasional speeches he delivered denouncing violations of
the rule of law.
In Kurdistan, the arrest of offi cials, some of whom had identifi ed with
Khatami’s programs, intensifi ed during Khatami’s two- term presidency.
City council elections were nullifi ed by conservative forces and the creden-
tials of either proreform or independent Kurdish politicians or candidates
were routinely rejected when they sought to run for various offi ces in the
province. In a crackdown on Kurdish offi cials, Abdullah Ramazanzadeh,
the governor general of Kurdistan and a Khatami supporter, was sum-
moned before the Special Court for Public Offi cials in April 2001 and
was charged with the “dissemination of lies.” Ramazanzadeh’s “crimes”
were his objections to the nullifi cations of the votes of two constituencies
in the Kurdish cities of Baneh and Saqqez; thus he was accused of libel-
ous statements against the country’s powerful Council of Guardians,
which had ordered the nullifi cation of the aforementioned constituency
votes.18
Iran’s ninth presidential election in 2005, which ultimately resulted
in the election of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as the country’s president,
was marked by an open discussion of the “nationality issues” by some
of the candidates. This was the fi rst time since the establishment of the
Islamic Republic that ethnic and nationality issues were recognized as
part of public policy debate, and several candidates openly sought the
votes of Iranian nationalities. Dr. Mostafa Moin, the main candidate of
the reformist camp, made a special effort to woo voters from non- Persian
nationalities and turned Iran’s multinational character into an important
part of his platform. Moin criticized both those who ignored the coun-
try’s multinational nature and those who sought to divide the country
on ethnic, religious, and linguistic grounds. In this vein, Moin promised
complete equality for all Iranian citizens, which is a right guaranteed
under the Iranian constitution. Recognizing discrimination as potentially
destabilizing, Moin stated that his administration would be composed
H u m a n R i g h t s 101
of all nationalities.19 Echoing Khatami’s campaign slogan, Moin also
made “Iran for all Iranians” the centerpiece of his presidential campaign.
In addition to Moin, several reformist personalities and writers opined
that without recognizing the rights of Iranian nationalities, democracy
would not take root in Iran. Furthermore, many reformists welcomed
Jalal Talabani’s election as president of Iraq and viewed his accession to
power in neighboring Iraq as the natural progression of the recognition
of nationality rights in the region.20 The reformist candidates, including
Mostafa Moin, were defeated in the fi rst round of the presidential ballot-
ing. Unlike the candidates of the reform bloc, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad,
the winner of the presidential race, campaigned on the platform of socio-
economic justice. His main target was the country’s lower class whose
economic conditions had deteriorated under the outgoing reformist
Khatami administration. Although Ahmadinejad did not make the issue of
nationality rights part of his campaign, he was certainly not an unknown
fi gure among the Kurds. In the early years of the postrevolutionary era,
Ahmadinejad was assigned to the Ramazan base of the Revolutionary
Guards, with responsibility for military operations in Western Iran, which
included the Kurdish regions of the country. Ahmadinejad later served in
other capacities in Western Iran, including a stint as a principal adviser to
the governor general of the province of Kurdistan.21
Given the negative connotation of the activities of the Revolu-
tionary Guards in Kurdistan, it was not surprising that the Iranian
Kurds participated minimally in the country’s presidential election of
2005. Between the two fi nalists in the second round of the election,
Ahmadinejad received 17,248,782 votes while his opponent Ali Akbar
Hashemi Rafsanjani garnered 10,460,701 votes.22 According to fi gures
released by Iran’s Interior Ministry, 62.66 percent of eligible voters
participated in the election, with the highest turnout (80.43 percent) in
the Ilam Province and the lowest rate of participation (37.37 percent)
in the province of Kurdistan. West Azerbaijan, which includes the
cities of Mahabad and Uromiyah with their large Kurdish population,
recorded the second- lowest participation rate (44.02 percent) in the
entire country. Similar results were reported for the 2009 presidential
election in which Ahmadinejad only received 20,404 votes as compared
to his main opponent, Mir Hossein Moussavi, who garnered 29,902
votes in the Province of Kurdistan alone.23 In short, the Iranian Kurds
expressed their dissatisfaction by boycotting the 2005 and 2009 presi-
dential elections in large numbers. Moreover, the military confrontation
between the Kurds and the Iranian government forces has intensifi ed
since 2005. For example, Iranian forces and the guerrillas of the newly
formed Kurdish Independent Life Party (PJAK), an off- shoot of Turkey’s
Workers’ Party of Kurdistan (PKK), have engaged in a low- level military
confrontation inside Iranian Kurdistan with mounting casualties on both
102 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
sides. The involvement of outside groups in Kurdish affairs in Iran has
added an unpredictable twist to the war of attrition in Iranian Kurdistan.
For example, the Komala, which has intensifi ed its own low- level warfare
inside Iranian Kurdistan, accused PJAK of undermining the legitimate
struggle of the Iranian Kurds by its adventurist tactics.24 The fi rst sig-
nifi cant development in Iranian Kurdistan in the post- Khatami era was
the grassroots uprising in several Kurdish cities throughout the country.
The spark that ignited the Kurdish challenge to the new Ahmadinejad
government was generated by the July 11, 2005, shooting of Shavaneh
Qaderi, a young Kurdish activist from Mahabad. Subsequently, a number
of websites posted photographs purporting to show Qaderi’s mutilated
body, which contributed to street demonstrations not only in Mahabad
but also in several other Kurdish cities, including Baneh, Bukan, Sanandaj,
and Saqqez. In addition, Kurdish groups, including university students in
Tehran, issued statements supporting the Mahabad demonstrations and
condemning the actions of the Iranian security forces, especially the units
of the Revolutionary Guards, in suppressing demonstrations of Kurdish
grievances. The conditions were further exacerbated by the crackdown
on two popular Kurdish- language weeklies, Ashti and Asou, and the
arrest of Roya Tolooi, the editor of the monthly Rasan and a well- known
activist in Iranian and Kurdish women’s rights groups.25 In mid-2008, a
number of Kurdish nationalists, including Farzad Kamangar, Farhad
Vakili, Ali Heydarian, Anwar Hossein Panahi, Adnan Hassanpour, and
Hiwa Butimar received death sentences that have been challenged by
several Iranian and international human rights organizations.
The condition of human rights in several Kurdish cities has deterio-
rated since the disputed reelection of Ahmadinejad in 2009, and clashes
between both Kurdish groups and Iranian forces and infi ghting among
Kurdish forces have resulted in hundreds of casualties throughout the
Kurdish province. More ominously, terrorist bombings in Sanandaj,
Paveh, and other major Kurdish cities have resulted in the death of scores
of both Sunni and Shi’a Kurds in the country. More ominously, discrimi-
nation and violence against Kurdish women have contributed to the dete-
rioration of human rights in the Kurdish regions of Iran. According to a
recent report by Amnesty International, social problems and deprivation
suffered by Kurdish women have led to a high rate of female suicide by
self- immolation. The practice of self- immolation “occurs in all the areas
of Kurdish settlement, where it is more common than in other parts of
Iran. Some alleged suicides may have been staged to cover up ‘honour’
killings.”26 These abuses have been compounded by the practice of early
or forced marriage; targeted killings; discrimination in employment,
housing, and education experienced by the Kurds.
The case of Mohammad Sadeq Kaboudvand is symptomatic of the
plight of Kurdish human rights activists in Iran today. Kaboudvand
H u m a n R i g h t s 103
is the founder of Payam Mardom, the now banned weekly that
published articles in Kurdish and Persian on sociopolitical developments
in Kurdistan. In 2004 he founded the Human Rights Organization of
Kurdistan (KROK), which produced detailed reports on violations of
human rights in Iranian Kurdistan. Kaboudvand’s campaign and non-
violent advocacy of human rights resulted in his June 2007 arrest on
ill- defi ned charges of “disturbing public opinion and societal harmony.”
A week after his incarceration, Kabouvand was released on bail, but he
was rearrested the following week on charges of “acting against national
security” of the country and was sentenced to ten years in prison. Not-
withstanding the international publicity given to Kabouvand’s case and
the subsequent granting of the 2009 prestigious Hellman/Hammett
award for his courage and commitment to free expression, as of this writ-
ing Kabouvand continues to languish in Tehran’s Evin Prison.
The execution of Ehsan Fattahian, a 27- year- old Kurdish sympathizer
of the Komala, a one- time armed Kurdish guerilla group that now claims
to have forsaken armed struggle, highlights a growing concern about the
growing climate of fear in the Kurdish province. Fattahian had originally
been tried in the fi rst Branch of the Revolutionary Court of Sanandaj and
received a ten- year sentence for conspiring against Iran’s national security
and belonging to an armed opposition group. An appeals court, acting
in variance with Iranian law, changed Fattahian’s charges to “enmity with
God,” or mohareb, and sentenced him to death. Notwithstanding an inter-
national appeal to save Fattahian’s life, he was executed on November 11,
2009, at a Sanandaj prison.27 According to the Campaign to Support Kurd-
ish Political and Civil Prisoners, a “special group” has been set up to super-
vise the impending execution of imprisoned Kurdish activists. This group,
which coordinates its activities with the head of the Kurdish province’s
judiciary and Sanandaj’s prosecutor general, is currently (November 2009)
handling cases involving more than 13 Kurdish activists who are awaiting
execution.28 The case of Shirko Moarefi and Habibollah Latifi , two Kurdish
activists awaiting execution, has elicited protests from several Kurdish parlia-
mentarians. Even the Iraqi president Jalal Talabani has personally appealed
to the head of Iran’s judiciary to spare the lives of these two young Kurdish
activists.29
New Vistas in Kurdish Self- Determination
and Human Rights in Iraq and Turkey
Notwithstanding major achievements in Iraqi Kurdistan since 2003, there
are still several major unknowns or obstacles that may hinder the realiza-
tion of the Kurdish dream in Iraq. For example, Article 140 of the Iraqi
constitution contains several steps that would make it possible for the
city of Kirkuk, which many Kurds have always considered as the “heart”
104 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
of Kurdish Iraq, to be incorporated into the Kurdish region. Article 140
calls for, among other things, the implementation of Article 58 of the
Law of Administration for the State of Iraq for the Transition Period, or
TAL, which was drafted under the auspices and supervision of the Coali-
tion Provisional Authority (the U.S. government entity that governed
Iraq in the immediate aftermath of the overthrow of Saddam Hussein)
and signed by the Iraqi Governing Council on March 8, 2004. Article
58 of TAL called for the resolution of the disputed territories, including
Kirkuk, between the Kurds and the central government of Iraq based on
legal determination of property rights of residents and status of those
who had been expelled from these territories during the reign of Saddam
Hussein. Iraq’s Constitution called for a referendum to be held by the
end of December, 2007, to decide the fi nal status of Kirkuk, which the
Kurds view as their eternal city. As part of Saddam Hussein’s Arabization
policy, thousands of Kurds had been forced to leave Kirkuk and were
resettled elsewhere in Iraq. In their place, Arabs were given incentives to
move to Kirkuk. Article 140 envisions an interim period during which the
Kurds will return to Kirkuk and the Arabs would be given incentives to
return to their previous towns. At the end of this process, called “normal-
ization,” a new census would be taken and a referendum would be held
to determine the fi nal status of Kirkuk. Although several thousand Arabs
left Kirkuk during the normalization period, few Kurds have returned to
Kirkuk, mainly because of the absence of jobs and security in that city.
The December 2007 deadline passed without a referendum. Of course,
the Kurds hold the majority of Kirkuk’s provincial council seats and most
senior administrative posts, including security positions, and the Kurdish
Regional Government (KRG) pays the salaries of Kurdish civil servants
in the city.
In the meantime, the Turkmen and the Arab population of Kirkuk
remain wary of their status if and when the city joins the Kurdish region.
Thus, they have hardened their opposition to possible changes in Kirkuk’s
current status. For example, the Iraqi Turkmen Front (ITF), which was
established in 1995 and receives funding from the Turkish government
and claims to represent the Turkmen people of Iraq, has vigorously con-
tested Kirkuk’s status as a Kurdish city. In this vein, the ITF held a rally
on April 28, 2007, in Ankara against the proposed Kirkuk referendum.
It demanded that Kirkuk be given a “special status” rather than be incor-
porated into the Kurdish region. At a June 2007 conference in New York,
Sadettin Ergec, the ITF’s chairman, stated that his party’s struggle is
aimed at saving Kirkuk as a city for the Iraqi Turkmen.30 Similarly, Iraq’s
Assyrian Democratic Movement (ADM) has accused the Kurdish leader-
ship of “executing an orchestrated plan to undermine the national rights
of the Assyrian people (as an ethnic group and as indigenous people) in
Iraq, in general, and in northern Iraq, in particular.”31 Although there are
H u m a n R i g h t s 105
several Assyrian Christians who are members of the KRG and the Kurdish
National Assembly, the ADM has been critical of them because they,
like the KRG, advocate “self-rule” in the Nineveh Plains. The critics argue
that “ self- rule,” as proposed by the KRG, requires that Nineveh be linked
to the Kurdish region and be under the jurisdiction of the KRG. Instead
of “ self- rule,” the ADM advocates the establishment of a new Nineveh
Plains Governorate that would allow its residents freedom to change laws
to fi t their own unique circumstances and sociocultural structures.32
In general, the non- Kurdish minorities in Nineveh province’s disputed
territories (areas that are contested between the Iraqi central government
and the KRG) remain wary of losing their rights under Kurdish rule.
In the words of a Chaldean Christian priest in the town of Qaraqosh,
the Kurds “have a hidden agenda and are using money to co- opt
Christians—it’s not because they want to help our people . . . I believe
that anyone who disagrees with their agenda puts their life at risk.”33 It is
not just the Christian and Turkmen minorities that remain apprehensive
about Kurdish rule over their communities. The Shabaks (numbering
between 200,000 and 500,000) and the Yezidis (numbering between
500,000 and 800,000), both of which have deep roots in the Nineveh
area, have become victims of Kurdish- Arab confl ict in today’s Iraq. The
Shabaks, the overwhelming majority of whom are Shi’a Muslims, have
been targeted mostly by extremist Sunni insurgents who view them as
heretics and not true Muslims. The Yezidis, who are mistakenly viewed
as “devil-worshippers” by outsiders, have also been routinely massacred
by Sunni extremists who equate the Peacock Angel, a key symbol of piety
among the Yezidis, with the devil in Muslim, Jewish, and Christian theol-
ogy. Both the Shabaks and the Yezidis have also been victimized by the
Kurds because they claim they have resisted attempts to impose a Kurdish
identity on them.34
On July 22, 2008, the Iraqi parliament, after months of intense
debate, fi nally approved the law on provincial elections. According to this
legislation, until elections for the status of Kirkuk are held, there will be
a power- sharing arrangement by which key positions will be distributed
between the Kurds, Turkmens, Christians, and Arabs. During this interim
period, military forces from the center and the south of the country will
be in charge of Kirkuk’s security, while “a committee of politicians will
have until the end of the year to explore solutions to the confl ict over the
city.”35 This is, at best, a band- aid solution to a festering confl ict that will
come to a head in the near future.
Endemic corruption, nepotism and violations of human rights have
slowed the development of a robust democracy in Iraq’s Kurdish region.
Human Rights Watch has reported on extensive and systematic torture
and mistreatment of detainees at Asayish detention facilities. The two
major political parties in Iraqi Kurdistan, the Kurdish Democratic Party
106 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
(KDP) and the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan (PUK) operate security
forces known as Asayish, which function with impunity outside the con-
trol of the KRG.36 The Asayish operatives routinely violate both Iraqi and
international law. These violations include “failure to inform detainees of
the grounds for arrest, failure to bring detainees before an investigative
judge in a timely fashion, failure to provide a mechanism by which sus-
pects can appeal their detention, . . . holding suspects for prolonged peri-
ods of pretrial detention, and extracting confessions through coercion.”37
Human Rights Watch has also documented several cases of torture and
ill- treatment of detainees at almost all Asayish detention facilities.38
In general, the KRG’s judicial system is weak and lacks an effective
mechanism to allow political prisoners to challenge the legal basis of
their imprisonment. In the absence of a strong and independent judi-
ciary, democratic institutions will ultimately wither away. The iron grip
of the KDP and the PUK on Kurdish politics has hindered democratic
growth in the region. A Newsweek article observed, “[A]s the rest of Iraq
keeps growing more open and democratic, the enclave [Iraqi Kurdistan]
remains stuck in its old ways—and ordinary Kurds are noticing. Businesses
grumble at having to form partnership with government cronies; voters
are demanding more choice.”39 The Kurdish ruling coalition of the KDP
and the PUK has reportedly aligned itself with a group of Nashville- based
U.S. evangelical Christian fundamentalists known as Servant Group
International (SGI), which has had success in brokering “international
business concessions and oil drilling contracts, funneling USAID money
into their missions, setting up a chain of ‘classical Christian’ schools, and
producing slick PR videos for the Kurdistan Regional Government that
were broadcast in the U.S.”40 In short, festering problems of corruption,
cronyism and the general lack of transparency have tempered prospects
for meaningful democratic change in Kurdistan. The Kurdish condition
in Turkey has presented one of the most daunting challenges to human
rights communities both inside and outside the country. For several
decades since the establishment of modern Turkey by Mustafa Kemal
Ataturk, the Kurds in Turkey had no legal status as Kurds. In fact, they
were offi cially referred to as the “mountain Turks,” and any public utter-
ance of the word “Kurd” had been criminalized under the law. Wholesale
attacks on Kurdish villages by Turkish security forces were commonplace.
However, a combination of factors, including the emergence of a robust
Kurdish resistance, led to a gradual change in the country’s draconian
policy toward its Kurdish citizens.
One of the most signifi cant legal impediments in effectively dealing
with Kurdish human rights issues in Turkey has been Article 301 of the
Turkish Penal Code. In short, Article 301 made it illegal to “insult”
Turkey, Turkish institutions, and Turkish ethnicity. This meant, inter
alia, that open manifestation of Kurdish identity would be tantamount
H u m a n R i g h t s 107
to the rejection of “Turkishness,” and hence a violation of Article 301.
Although a series of changes were made to the law in April 2008 shortly
before the opening of a new round of negotiations for possible Turkish
membership in the European Union (EU), Article 301 has been used to
prosecute a number of Kurdish writers, activists, and other prominent
Turkish opponents of the law. For example, the Turkish government
brought criminal charges against Orhan Pamuk, Turkey’s Nobel Laureate
in literature, for publicly stating that some 30,000 Kurds have been killed
in his country and nobody dares to acknowledge it. The list of those who
have been charged with violating Article 301 because of their nonviolent
opposition to Turkey’s ethnic policies is extensive, refl ecting the continu-
ing challenge to defending “Kurdishness” against the Kemalist notion of
“Turkishness.”
A possible opening in Turkey’s Kurdish policy occured on September
10, 2009, when Yusuf Ziya Ozcan, the president of Turkey’s Higher Edu-
cation Board, announced that the government has approved the establish-
ment of the “Living Languages in Turkey” institute at the southeastern
province of Mardin’s Artuklu University.41 In addition to the Kurdish
language department, the University is also in the process of establishing
a department of Syriac languages and literature with the aim of making
Artuklu University into a center of academic scholarship and learning of
major Middle Eastern languages, including Arabic and Persian. The
Turkish government, which is headed by the Islamic- oriented Justice and
Development Party (AKP), has undertaken a number of potentially sig-
nifi cant measures in a search for a solution to the country’s long- standing
“Kurdish problem.”42 As I have discussed in my book Kurdish Politics in
the Middle East,43 the Kurdish language had long been banned in Turkey,
and in 1967 the government offi cially outlawed publishing books and
other types of printed material in Kurdish. They also made it illegal to
record, sing, or otherwise disseminate Kurdish songs and music. As stated
above, it was only during the presidency of Turgut Ozal in the early 1990s
that the Turkish government acknowledged the Kurdish language as an
important component of the country’s Kurdish identity. In 2008, the AKP
government allowed the establishment of a state television channel to air
programs in Kurdish, a measure that the country’s Kurdish population
had demanded for decades. However, Kurdish critics have argued that
the government’s restrictions on the Kurdish channel have hampered the
free operation of this station. Likewise, many Kurds have taken a wait-
and- see attitude toward the recent announcement of the establishment
of a Kurdish studies program at Artuklu University. For decades, Kurdish
nationalists have demanded that Turkey recognize their legitimate cultural
rights by creating a dual educational system where classes are held in both
Turkish and Kurdish. The new Kurdish language department at Artuklu
University may be a small step in recognition of Kurdish cultural demands
108 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
as well as a calculated political move to cement Turkey’s expanding ties
with the Kurdish administration in Northern Iraq.
Conclusion
The discussion in this chapter demonstrates the complexities and nuances
involved in human rights when it comes to inter- and intra- ethnic rela-
tions. Furthermore, it should be noted that there are no clear- cut and
universally accepted formulae in resolving human rights problems in
ethnically heterogeneous societies. As the Kurdish case demonstrates,
intricate political, societal, and historical variables as well as competing
ethnic claims, and counterclaims, tend to generate a circular logic that
pits one nationality group against another and, in the worst case scenario,
creates a siege mentality that compounds improvement of human rights
conditions for the affected people. Perhaps the best approach to dealing
with the issue of human rights and the ethnic question is to rely on the
acceptability of broad universal principles that avoids pitting one group’s
rights and grievances against another group’s claims.
Notes
1. For a brief review of these treaties, see Gerhard von Glahn, Law Among
Nations: An Introduction to Public International Law, 5th ed., New York:
Macmillan, 1986, pp. 193–194.
2. Ibid., p. 303.
3. Ibid., p. 304.
4. Barbara Harff and Ted Robert Gurr, “Toward Empirical Theoery of
Genocides and Politicides: Identifi cation and Measurement of Cases since
1945,” International Studies Quarterly, vol. 32, no. 3, Summer 1988,
pp. 364–365, Table 1.
5. Ibid., p. 360.
6. Ibid., pp. 363–365.
7. Claire Palley, “The Role of Law in Relation to Minority Groups,” in The
Future of Cultural Minorities, ed. Anthony E. Alcock, Brian K. Taylor,
and John M. Welton, London: Macmillan, 1979, pp. 120–160.
8. Ibid., pp. 121–126.
9. Patrick Thornberry, Minorities and Human Rights Law, London: Minor-
ity Rights Group, 1987, p. 4.
10. For a good discussion of the modalities of federal structures and their pos-
sible application in Iraq, see Brendan O’Leary, “ Power- Sharing, Pluralist
Federation, and Federacy,” in The Future of Kurdistan in Iraq, ed. Bren-
dan O’Leary, John McGarry, and Khalid Salih, Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press, 2005, pp. 47–91. Also, see Liam Anderson, “The
Non- Ethnic Regional Model of Federalism: Some Comparative Perspec-
tives,” in An Iraq of Its Regions: Cornerstones of a Federal Democracy?
H u m a n R i g h t s 109
ed. Reidar Visser and Gareth Stansfi eld, New York: Columbia University
Press, 2008, pp. 205–255.
11. Donald L. Horowitz, Ethnic Groups in Confl ict, Berkeley, CA: University
of California Press, 1985, pp. 628–633.
12. Reidar Visser, “Introduction,” in An Iraq of Its Regions, p. 3.
13. Ibid.
14. David A. Steinberg and Stephen M. Saideman, “Laissez Fear: Assessing the
Impact of Government Involvement in the Economy of Ethnic Violence,”
International Studies Quarterly, vol. 52, no. 2, June 2008, pp. 235–259.
15. Nina Caspersen, “Intragroup Divisions in Ethnic Confl icts: From Popular
Grievances to Power Struggles,” Nationalism and Ethnic Politics, vol. 14,
no. 2, April 2008, p. 239.
16. Ibid.
17. Mohammad Khatami, Islam, Liberty and Development, Binghamton, NY:
Institute of Global Cultural Studies, 1998, p. 4.
18. Islamic Republic News Agency (IRNA), April 9, 2001.
19. Emrouz, www.emrouz.info/ShowItem.aspx?ID=1226&p=1, April 13,
2005. Accessed on May 24, 2008.
20. Ataollah Mohajerani, “ Entekhab- e Talabani,” Emrouz, www.emrouz.info/
ShowItem.aspx?ID=1117&p=1, April 7, 2005. Accessed on April 8, 2005.
21. Kasra Naji, Ahmadinejad: The Secret History of Iran’s Radical Leader,
Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 2008, pp. 29–31.
22. “Final Results of the Ninth Presidential Election,” Interior Ministry, the
Islamic Republic of Iran, http://www.moi.gov.ir/news.aspx?id=12593,
June 25, 2005. Accessed on July 12, 2005.
23. These are offi cial fi gures released by the Interior Ministry and posted on
its website at http://www.moi.ir.
24. Quoted in Baztab, http://www.baztab.com/news/27867.php,
August 18, 2005. Accessed on September 26, 2005.
25. Rooz, August 4, 2005.
26. Amnesty International, Iran: Human Rights Abuses against the Kurdish
Minority, London: Amnesty International, 2008, p. 22. Also, see Kurdish
Human Rights Project, “Human Rights and the Kurds in Iran,” Brief-
ing Paper, August 26, 2009, and Kurdish National Congress, “Human
Rights Violations in Iran,” Briefi ng Paper, February 2011, pp. 1–4.
27. For a brief background of Fattahian’s case, see Campaign for Human
Rights in Iran, http://www.iranhumanrights.org/2009/11/haltfatahi-
anexecution, November 10, 2009. Accessed on November 15, 2009.
28. See Rooz, November 19, 2009.
29. See Radio Farda, http://www.radiofarda.com/articleprintview/1880317.
html, November 17, 2009, and Radio Farda, http://www.radiofarda.
com/articleprintview/1887292.html, November 25, 2009. Accessed on
November 26, 2009.
30. For further information about the Iraqi Turkmen Front and its position
on Kirkuk, see the organization’s website at http://kerkuk.net.
31. Fred Aprim, “Kurds Undermining Assyrian National Interests in Iraq,”
Assyrian International News Agency, http://www.aina.org/guesteds/
20080416165822.htm, April 16, 2008. Accessed on May 2, 2008.
110 N a d e r E n t e s s a r
32. Ibid.
33. Human Rights Watch, On Vulnerable Ground: Violence against Minority
Communities in Nineveh Province’s Disputed Territories, New York:
Human Rights Watch, 2009, p. 25.
34. Ibid., pp. 37–43.
35. Lydia Khalil, “Nobody’s Client: The Reawakening of Iraqi Sovereignty,”
Analysis, Lowy Institute for International Policy, Sydney, Australia, March
2009, pp. 11–17.
36. Human Rights Watch, Caught in the Whirwind: Torture and Denial of
Due Process by the Kurdish Security, New York: Human Rights Watch,
2007, pp. 30–51.
37. Ibid., p. 30.
38. Ibid., p. 41.
39. Lennox Samuels, “The Myth of Kurdistan,” Newsweek, March 23, 2009,
p. 46.
40. Bill Berkowitz, “U.S. Evangelical Christians’ Kurdish Crusade,” Z Maga-
zine, April 2009, p. 11.
41. Sebnem Arsu, “Turkey: Kurdish Studies Approved,” the New York Times,
September 11, 2009.
42. Halil M. Karaveli, “Ankara’s New ‘Kurdish Opening’: Narrow Room for
Maneuver,” Turkey Analyst, vol. 2, no. 14, http://www.silkroadstudies.
org/new/inside/turkey/2009/090817B.html, August 17, 2009. Accessed
on September 1, 2009.
43. Nader Entessar, Kurdish Politics in the Middle East, Lanham, MD:
Rowman and Littlefi eld/Lexington Books, 2010.
4
C h a p t e r 6
The Janus Nature of Human
Rights in Iran: Understanding
Progress and Setbacks on
Human Rights Protections
since the Revolution
B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
I Introduction
There have been serious concerns raised both internally and externally
about human rights violations in Iran over the past 30 years. Is
there any reason to believe there will be an improvement in the protec-
tion of human rights in the future? Risse and Sikkink have suggested
that states can be socialized to improve at least part of their human
rights record. They argue that Western states, advocacy networks,
and international norms can have a positive impact on rights of per-
sonal integrity in most if not all non- Western developing countries.1
Will Iran be socialized to improve its human rights record? This
chapter examines both the progress on and the violations of human
rights in Iran over the past 30 years. I want to explain why the Islamic
regime has restricted the basic rights of its citizens, as well as what
accounts for the progress made on some second generation rights.
To see further improvements in the protection of human rights this
chapter suggests that minimizing threats is a necessary step for further
progress. Therefore, this chapter examines Iran’s human rights record
112 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
in the framework of the interplay of international human rights norms
and perceived threats.
This chapter begins by examining some of the specifi c violations of
fi rst generation human rights including the right to life and personal
integrity.2 This section explains the motivations and basis of these viola-
tions, specifi cally focusing on threats to the regime and the use of an
interpretation of Islam. Then I investigate the condition of some socio-
economic human rights in Iran—specifi cally the second- generation rights
of education and health care.
The second section examines how human rights can be improved
in the future. Although some may see the glass as half empty (there
are still many basic civil and political rights that are not guaranteed),
there are reasons to see a glimmer of hope. Iran’s protection of human
rights in some areas is better (second generation human rights includ-
ing health care and education) than some parts of the Middle East.
Furthermore, the discourse on human rights has changed over the
past 30 years.
II Explaining Human Rights
Violations in Iran
Various individuals and international NGOs and IGOs have voiced con-
cerns about human rights in Iran. Marking the thirtieth anniversary of
the Islamic Revolution, Amnesty International complained: “Despite
promises made by Ayatollah Khomeini that all Iranians would be free,
the past 30 years has been characterized by persistent human rights viola-
tions . . . ” Akbar Ganji, an Iranian journalist, also noted the lack of fi rst
generation rights:
We strongly oppose the current laws and policies in Iran, because they do
not recognize freedom of thought, freedom of expression, or freedom of
religion and assembly. We oppose them because . . . they imprison dissi-
dents and those who live differently . . . They have blocked all democratic
methods of reform, and they have deprived our women of many of their
civic and political rights.3
Freedom House, with its focus on civil and political rights, has consis-
tently rated the theocracy in Iran as Not Free with scores of 5, 6, and 7.4
The World Bank’s Worldwide Governance indicators project also gives
Iran low marks.5 Many in the West including the United States have
repeatedly criticized the lack of human rights protections in Iran.6 Most
of these criticisms revolve around fi rst generation rights and are related
to perceived threats to the regime.
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 113
The Right to Life and Personal Integrity
in the Islamic Republic of Iran
The early years after the revolution saw some of the gravest human rights
violations committed against perceived threats to the regime and those
considered not suffi ciently loyal to Khomeini and the Islamic Republic of
Iran. After many of the monarchists were imprisoned, executed, or fl ed to
exile, the revolution turned on its own supporters. The Revolution’s diverse
mix of secular intellectuals, Islamic clerics, and leftists were united in the
initial goal of removing the shah. After this goal was accomplished a power
struggle ensued between these three factions over what type of political
system would develop and who would control this new government.
Khomeini and his clerical supporters were unwilling to share power
with secular elites such as Bazargan, or leftist organizations and this
threat to the power of the clerics would result in many violations of the
right to life. In response to the repression at the hands of government
supporters the Mojahedin (MEK) fought back with a series of assassina-
tion attempts some of which were successful. The bomb that went off in
June, 1981, at Friday prayers in Tehran seriously injured Ali Khamenei.7
In August an additional assassination claimed the lives of the new Presi-
dent Raja’i and Prime Minister Bahonar.
In response to these attacks, the government unleashed a reign of terror
with numerous executions in the subsequent months. On September 19,
1981, 149 people were executed. The following week saw more blood-
shed with 110 people killed in one day.8 These killings were carried out in
part to protect the theocracy from a secular threat to the very existence of
the regime. The reign of terror would come to an end in December 1982
at Khomeini’s behest.9
In addition to executions various individuals have been held in con-
fi nement and tortured while in jail. Accounts from opposition fi gures
and dissidents tell of harsh treatment while in custody.10 Ahmad Batebi, a
student protestor, recalled how he was beaten, deprived of sleep,
and hung by his arms from the ceiling in an interview after his escape and
relocation to the United States.11
Political Rights
Freedom of Expression
Freedom of speech (Article 26) or the ability to freely discuss ideas with-
out fear of criminal prosecution is not a right that is protected or guaran-
teed in Iran despite claims to the contrary by political leaders.12 Political
views that are critical of members of the ruling elite or question the role
of religion in the political system have been censored and many individu-
als voicing political dissent have been arrested and thrown in jail.
114 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
In the aftermath of the revolution Ayatollah Khomeini and other
religious revolutionaries tolerated very little dissent or criticism.13 This
was also an attempt by Khomeini and the new government to rid the
country of Western infl uence. In Islamic Government, he outlined his
fears of un- Islamic ideas:
Although all things contrary to the Shari’a must be forbidden, emphasis has
been placed on sinful talk and consumption of what is forbidden, implying
that these two evils are more dangerous than all others and must therefore
be more diligently combated.14
Outspoken critics of the repressive nature of the Iranian regime have
repeatedly been harassed. Abdolkarim Soroush, an infl uential intellectual
had been fi red from various university positions, physically threatened,
and prohibited from teaching and travelling outside of the country.15
Soroush’s ideas are threatening to the clerical regime because he has pro-
posed an alternative interpretation of Islam. He believes that while the
texts of holy books such as the Quran do not change, our understanding
of them may change:
All of us are fallible human beings. Though religion itself is sacred, its
interpretation is not sacred and therefore it can be criticized, modifi ed,
refi ned, and redefi ned.16 The notion that religious texts can be reinter-
preted does not sit well with many of the clerical elites who insist on the
validity of their view of Islam.
University students who have protested against government policies
have also encountered many diffi culties and have often ended up in Evin
Prison in Tehran. The judiciary’s closure of the daily newspaper Salam—a
pro- Khatami, reformist paper—led to student protests in the summer of
1999. The protestors were met by Ansar- e- Hezbollah and many students
were beaten. Some were killed in these confrontations.17 Student protests
at Shiraz University in the early months of 2008 also resulted in a harsh
crackdown with many arrests.
Presidential Elections in 2009
The large- scale protests that followed the interior ministry’s declaration
that President Ahmadinejad had been reelected a few hours after the polls
closed, was one of the most signifi cant domestic threats to the clerical
regime. The millions of protestors who came out in the streets day after
day signalled a loss of legitimacy and a political challenge to the regime.
The Supreme Leader attempted to end the demonstrations when on
June 19, 2009, at Friday Prayers he ordered a halt to the protests.18
Ironically in this same speech he also used the language of human rights
by defending democracy and the rule of law. He said, “The Islamic State
would not cheat and betray the vote of the people.”19 In the aftermath
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 115
of his speech hundreds of Iranians have been detained and many were
tortured or killed.
The threats to the regime were material and ideological. If Mousavi
and reform- minded politicians were able to gain power they may agree
to talk to or compromise with the United States, which would challenge
one of the central tenets of the Islamic Revolution of 1979. It could also
have a fi nancial impact if certain ministries were no longer controlled by
hard- liners. Thus the regime’s response to the elections in 2009 demon-
strated how the regime when faced with a perceived domestic threat to
its political security would respond in a harsh manner.
Women’s Civil and Political Rights
The position of women in Iranian society since the revolution has fl uctu-
ated with the political winds in Iran. While Iranian women have far greater
rights and opportunities than their counterparts in, for example, Saudi
Arabia, they do not enjoy complete equality. The mixed and inconsistent
messages women have received from the regime are a product of the
factional politics (reformers vs. hard- line conservatives) and of the evolu-
tion of Khomeini’s Islamic thinking on the subject. His views have been
employed by various political forces for granting women more rights as well
as expecting women to uphold their traditional roles within the family.
In the 1960s Khomeini did not articulate equal political rights for
women. However, in 1978 he offered a different vision for women:
“In the Islamic system a woman is a human being who can be equally
active as a man in the building of a new society.”20 While Khomeini did
not argue for full equality in terms of political participation (women
are not able to become Supreme Leader and have been rejected by the
Guardian Council as candidates for president) he did offer women a lim-
ited space in the political realm, far greater than in some other countries
in the Middle East. Despite some political rights, Iranian women have
not enjoyed the same status as men and in many respects are second- class
citizens in the Islamic Republic. Ganji has referred to the situation of
Iranian women as “gender apartheid.”21 While the constitution guaran-
tees the equal rights of women in Articles 3 and 20, there are also limiting
clauses. Article 20 places this within the criteria of Islam:
All citizens of the country, both men and women, equally enjoy the protec-
tion of the law and enjoy all human, political, economic, social, and cultural
rights, in conformity with Islamic criteria.
When the revolution occurred in 1979 many women participated not
only in street demonstrations but also in the referendum on Iran’s political
system. Since 1979 women have been encouraged—at times forced—to
play the traditional role of nurturing mother and dutiful wife.22 Women
116 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
who were judges prior to the revolution were replaced by men and some
women were dissuaded from practicing law.23 Women are also segregated
in many public places including in classrooms. Women in Iran do not enjoy
equal treatment or equal status with their male counterparts. This inequal-
ity is translated into various laws and practices including the fact that a
woman’s testimony in a court of law is “valued at half that of a man’s.”24
In addition, women do not have the basic freedom to choose their
attire. The veil is mandatory for all women in public regardless of their
religious beliefs. Women are mandated to have their heads covered because
it is considered to be a means to protect their chastity and purity.
Some Iranian women have been brave enough to confront what they
view as their second- class citizenship status in Iran. The response from
the government has often been violent and harsh.25 In March of 2006
several women who were part of the One Million Signatures Campaign
were arrested and later convicted of “acting against national security,
disrupting public order, and refusing to follow police orders.” Nasrin
Afzali, Nahid Jafari, and Minoo Mortazi were given suspended sentences
of lashings and prison time.26 The sentences will not be carried out unless
the women commit additional crimes. However, one of the defense
lawyers, Zahra Arzani, has suggested that the suspended sentences were
an effort to limit human rights activists in Iran. The One Million Signa-
tures Campaign is a campaign to end gender discrimination in Iranian
laws especially in the area of family law.27
III Progress on Human Rights: Basic
Needs and Health Care
In the 30 years since the revolution we have seen some signifi cant
improvements in second- generation rights although this has received far
less attention from scholars discussing human rights. There has been a
signifi cant improvement by the government in providing for the basic
needs of its citizens. This commitment to improving the lives of the poor
can be linked to the goals and rhetoric of the revolution in 1979 when
Khomeini promised to help the oppressed. Furthermore, it is not viewed
as threatening to the ruling elite.
Since the revolution Iran has reduced poverty. In the 1990s poverty had
decreased from 26 percent to 21 percent.28 Furthermore, access to electric-
ity and piped water in rural areas increased substantially since the revolu-
tion. Access to electricity was below 20 percent in 1977 and by 2004 it was
over 95 percent. Similar improvements can be seen with access to water.29
Iran has continued to invest in its health services and the results are
encouraging. In the 15-year period from 1991 to 2006 Iran has increased
the social service complexes in urban areas (from 414 to 980) and in rural
areas (from 1121 to 1495). These complexes assist Iranians with their
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 117
health care needs as well as providing orphanages and day- care centers.30
There has also been increased access to medical services. One result has
been the decline in child mortality rates.31 These results have been possible
because of government support, including increased female literacy. It
has been estimated that the government is spending close to $2 billion
on subsidies for food and medicine. Furthermore, various charities that
receive government funding also provide direct assistance to over 2 million
Iranians.32 In addition, there has been greater access to birth control. In the
late 1980s, the government developed a policy called The National Birth
Control Policy, which “provided free contraceptives (to married couples)
through the primary health care system.”33 This policy was developed to
help with family planning and to encourage women to have fewer children.
Improvements in Education
In addition to the improvements in access to health care, women have
also enjoyed access to the education system. Literacy rates have improved
dramatically since the revolution. For example, between 1976 and 1996
women’s literacy doubled (in 1976, 36 percent of Iranian women were
considered literate and by 1996 the fi gure rose to 72 percent). By 2006,
the literacy rates for girls ten years and older was 80 percent.34 Some have
suggested that the segregation of gender helped socially conservative
families to allow their daughters to go to school. That some of the classes
were offered in mosques furthered female literacy.35 Further, Nobel Prize
winner Shirin Ebadi noted that close to 65 percent of the students in
universities were women.36
These improvements helped Iranian women in the labor market as
well. In the past 30 years women’s participation in the workforce has
increased (although there were some women who lost their jobs in the
immediate aftermath of the revolution). This increase in the female work-
force has not been limited to cheap jobs in manufacturing. Rather
women have been increasingly moving into the service sector. In 1976,
women made up 38.2 percent of the manufacturing force, 39.5 percent
of education, health care, and social services, and 18.3 percent in social,
personal, and fi nancial services. By 2006, women in manufacturing had
declined to 18.7 percent, while in education, health care, and social
services the number had increased to 48.6 percent and in the social, per-
sonal, and fi nancial services it was up to 28.2 percent.37 This shows that
women are moving into higher- paying jobs.38
Women’s Political Rights
Despite some discriminatory practices enshrined in the legal system,
women do enjoy some political rights in Iran. Since the revolution
118 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
women have been given the right to vote and have participated in every
election in the past 30 years. A few women have even been elected to
the Majlis, although they “did not succeed in producing substantive and
lasting changes to the status of women in Iranian society.”39 However,
Iran has more female members elected to Parliament than some other
countries in the Middle East.
Some Iranians have even suggested that Iran’s treatment of women
should be a model for other Muslim countries—going so far as to suggest
that Iran is more progressive than other countries because women can
vote, drive, and hold positions within the government.40 When examin-
ing the issues of birth control and women’s education we see that neither
is viewed as a threat to the political elites. Ultimately, while women enjoy
some rights and some limited progress has been made, women do not
enjoy full equality in many areas.
In sum, we can also see many human rights violations occurring as a
result of perceived threats to those who control the levers of power41 and
a narrow interpretation of Islam. The role of threats can also explain the
improvement on some second- generation rights. The progress we see in
the areas of health care and education is because they can be seen as non-
threatening to the regime. Therefore beyond a commitment to Islamic
purity, the self- interest of political leaders in Tehran and their desire to
remain in control of the levers of power can explain many of the human
rights violations in Iran over the past 30 years.
IV Socialization of International
Human Rights Norms
Beyond the desirability of human rights lies the more pragmatic question:
How does a state evolve from a fl agrant abuser of human rights to one
where the rule of law protects the basic human rights of its citizens? Risse
and Sikkink have offered a fi ve- phase spiral model as a process by which
international human rights norms concerning personal integrity rights
are socialized and ultimately protected.42
The fi rst phase of the model begins with the repression by the govern-
ment and the initial activity of a transnational network given the weakness
of domestic opposition groups. In the next phase, international NGOs
raise awareness about the human rights violations in the country and
encourage Western states to put pressure on the government. The gov-
ernment typically denies the charges:
“Denial” means that the norm violating government refuses to accept
the validity of international norms themselves and it opposes the sug-
gestion that its national practices in this area are subject to international
jurisdiction.43
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 119
The third phase of the model, the targeted state will offer tactical
concessions with a few minor, cosmetic changes. Thus the regime begins
to “talk the talk” and uses the language of human rights. There may be
further limited acts such as releasing prisoners or allowing some addi-
tional limited press freedoms. Risse and Sikkink note that at times the
regime can become “entrapped” by its own rhetoric when it is later used
against it.
In the fourth phase, the regime, which despite continuing human
rights violations, is regularly invoking human rights norms no longer
controversial, they are accepted by the regime as legitimate.44 At this
stage the government may sign international human rights conventions
or establish institutions to protect human rights.
The last phase occurs when international human rights have become
institutionalized and habitual through the rule of law. International
human rights are no longer controversial instead they are regularly
protected within the domestic political system. In sum, we see that the
spiral model is important because it shows how international norms and
pressure from Western actors can infl uence non- Western states. The
model also acknowledges that for states that are more independent of the
Western community the model will not be as effective.
V Adjusting the Model: Threats
Since threats, perceived and real, are central to understanding the human
rights violations in Iran, the role of threats must be incorporated into
any model that seeks to explain progress on human rights. Risse and
Sikkink note that states that are less dependent on the West will be less
sensitive to pressure from Western states and NGOs. While Iran is not
entirely independent of the West due to its dependence on oil (and the
need to see it in foreign markets not to mention the issue of refi nement),
the Islamic Republic has managed to survive 30 years worth of sanctions.
Thus under the model previously discussed international pressure from
NGOs and Western states would only have some limited impact.45 Thus
limited changes must be made to the spiral model to incorporate some
features unique to Iran.46 Namely, that in addition to international norms
a diminishing level of threats from the international community is neces-
sary if we are to see improvement in the protection of human rights and
the eventual institutionalization of human rights in Iran.
Modifi cation to the Spiral Model
Phase 1 → Phase 2 → Phase 3 → Phase 4 → Phase 5 → Phase 6
Repression → Denial → Threat → Tactical → Prescriptive → Rule
120 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
Decreasing threats (and perceived threats) from abroad, from specifi c
foreign countries, can provide the space for the gradual improvement
of human rights. Risse and Sikkink suggest that international pressure
(Western states and NGOs) and potential sanctions can push a targeted
state on the road to socialization and institutionalization of international
human rights. However, in Iran’s case, 30 years of sanctions have defused
some of the pressure at work in the spiral model. Over the past 30 years
various attempts to pressure Tehran have been viewed as threats from
Western states, especially the United States. This is why there is a need
for threat reduction. Reducing the threats prevents a rally around the fl ag
effect from political elites. In Iran’s case removing threats would include
avoiding any rhetoric about regime change and discouraging the threat
from Israel.47 Further international cooperation on the nuclear issue
including economic incentives would be helpful. Threat reduction can
provide the opening for a negotiated gradual transition.
Phase four of the adjusted model would incorporate some tactical
concessions of human rights in the context of a domestically negotiated
transition. In order to see some signifi cant improvements in civil and
political rights, domestic elites (reformists, pragmatic conservatives) must
be willing to allow hard- line conservatives to maintain fi nancial benefi ts
and control over some military forces (Revolutionary Guard) in return
for a gradual power- sharing agreement. This power- sharing arrangement
(as seen in Chile) would require hard- liners to release control of the
presidency and parliament (specifi cally who is allowed to run and hold
offi ce) and eventually control over the judiciary as well in order to start
making progress toward the rule of law.
Phase four gradually shifts to Phase fi ve where more political power
is shifted to elected bodies and away from unelected bodies (Guardian
Council, Supreme Leader). In the fi fth phase human rights would have
prescriptive status. We further see greater domestic NGOs pressure espe-
cially concerning Islam. Domestic NGOs arguing for a reinterpretation
of Islam in a more human rights–friendly manner can lead to progress on
human rights while continuing to work within an Islamic context. Thus
efforts by Soroush and others who work within an Islamic framework to
improve human rights protections in Iran are instructive. This is less
threatening than a Western approach because it incorporates elements
that are consistent with the culture and history of the people.
Reduction → Concessions → Status → Consistent
& Negotiated & Domestic → Behavior
Transition Pressure on
Islam
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 121
The last phase would incorporate rule- consistent behavior—the
institutionalization of human rights under new leaders. In order for this to
occur you will need to see a gradual transition of power (perhaps similar to
Pinochet in Chile). Iranian reformers and pragmatic conservatives will need
to agree to guarantee the hard- liners that they will be protected fi nancially
and from judicial punishment in return for a gradual handover of power
and then you will have the opening to make more progress on human
rights. While this is occurring in the realm of civil and political rights, prog-
ress can still be made on human rights on issues such as education or health
care because they are viewed to be not as threatening as political rights.
VI Improving Human Rights
In the past, Iranian leaders have denied the applicability and the worth
of international human rights. However, in more recent years, we have
seen various Iranian leaders, including hard- line conservatives using the
language of international human rights. This section shows that linguistic
transition.
The Discourse on Human Rights
For Khomeini, international human rights treaties were inferior to
Islamic law. On February 19, 1978, Khomeini gave a speech in which
he articulated the hypocrisy of the West and the Universal Declaration
of Human Rights:
All the miseries that we have suffered, still suffer, and are about to suffer soon
are caused by the heads of those countries that have signed the Declaration of
Human Rights, but that at all times have denied man his freedom. Freedom
of the individual is the most important part of the Declaration of Human
Rights . . . But we see the Iranian nation, together with many other suffering
at the hands of those states that have signed and ratifi ed the Declaration.48
Khomeini went on to add that “the Declaration of Human Rights exists
only to deceive the nations; it is the opium of the masses.”49
This hostility toward international human rights law was echoed by
Supreme Leader Khamenei who said, “changing some absolute Islamic
decrees to correspond to certain international conventions is quite
wrong.”50 Thus some prominent leaders have denied the validity of inter-
national human rights law. However, the language of some political elites
has evolved from a denial of the legitimacy of international human rights
to a denial of wrongdoing.
More and more we see Iranian leaders using the language of human
rights in recognition of the Iranian public’s demand for human rights.
122 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
For example, in his remarks on June 19, 2009, Supreme Leader
Khamenei said that the Islamic Republic is a strong supporter of human
rights especially for the oppressed.51 Of course the notion that Iran is fl ag
bearer for international human rights is fanciful especially in light of the
harsh crackdown after the presidential elections in 2009.
Other Iranian leaders have denied that their country systematically
violates human rights. Some Iranians have suggested that much of the
criticism from the United States and other Western countries is politically
motivated. Ayatollah Shahroudi argued that “the international commu-
nity uses human rights as a weapon against the Islamic world.”52
While Iran has not compiled a perfect record of protecting interna-
tional human rights at home, it has voiced concerns about human rights
abroad. One of the most pressing concerns for many in Iran (both politi-
cal elites and Iranian citizens) is Palestine. For the past three decades, the
Iranian government has raised concerns about the Palestinians’ lack of
basic human rights including fundamental freedoms and political rights.
Khomeini urged Muslims in February 1971 to help liberate “the Islamic
land of Palestine from the grasp of Zionism.”53
The language of the concern voiced for the Palestinians has evolved
over the years to incorporate aspects of international human rights. In the
early months of 2009 the president submitted an international war crimes
bill to parliament. The bill seeks to prosecute individuals in any part of
the world with crimes against humanity and war crimes. Specifi cally this
includes denying a civilian population humanitarian assistance, attempts
to exterminate a group of people, rape, as well as using toxic weapons.54
This bill is aimed specifi cally at Israel and was drafted in response to the
war in the Gaza Strip in 2008. Although politically motivated it is impor-
tant to note that Iran is using the tools and language of the international
human rights community. This can also be used against Iran itself.
Thus over the past 30 years we have seen changes in the language
employed by various elites in Iran. Instead of denying the importance or
validity of international human rights, some political leaders are simply
denying that Iran is acting improperly. In other cases, elites are using the
language of international human rights to criticize other countries. This
suggests a change in the regime’s relationship to internationally recognized
human rights. International human rights went from being a product of
the West and hence easily rejected to the current status of being accepted
as legitimate. Now they claim that the West manipulates the discussion of
human rights or that the country’s human rights record is misunderstood.
Potential for Additional Improvements
Various dissidents and domestic NGOs have tried to improve the
country’s protection of human rights. Some have done so from a reli-
gious reference point arguing that Iranian leaders have misinterpreted
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 123
Islamic texts. Thus, if a more accurate understanding of the Qur’an and
Sunnah were applied to laws, a more just and rights protective society
could be realized in Iran. Efforts to strengthen human rights protections
from within an Islamic framework have the greatest potential for success
because these efforts use the cultural and religious tools of the society.55
For example, some Islamic feminists or religiously oriented feminists in
Iran have argued that women’s rights can be protected in an Islamic state
if a proper reading of the Qur’an is undertaken.
VII Implications for the Future
Given that there has been some progress made in areas such as education,
should we expect to see further gains in the protections of human rights?
The picture is somewhat mixed. The nuclear issue will hinder progress
on human rights. The international community’s main focus is prevent-
ing, either through persuasion or sanctions, the Islamic Republic from
becoming a nuclear power with the ability to build a nuclear weapon.
While Iran insists that it is developing a peaceful nuclear energy program,
the rest of the world has not been convinced.
Although the nuclear issue is a hindrance to human rights, there are
some other developments that offer hope for progress on human rights.
To begin with, political leaders in Iran from various political leanings
have used the language of human rights. They are “talking the talk.” One
example of this was the international war crimes bill discussed earlier.
Even if selectively applied this still suggests a use of the language of inter-
national human rights which is a large step from Khomeini’s rejection
of human rights and a step toward the protection of human rights. In
addition, when discussing the case of journalist Roxana Saberi, President
Ahmadinejad’s Chief of Staff Abdolreza Sheikholeslami wrote, “Take
care that the defendants have all the legal freedoms and rights to defend
themselves against the charges and none of their rights are violated.”56
This statement echoes the value of the rule of law. Furthermore, with
President Obama now occupying the White House, there are less threats
emanating from the Great Satan.
VIII Conclusion
This chapter has argued that many of the human rights violations com-
mitted by the government stem from two sources: a specifi c interpretation
of Islam (as opposed to Islam itself) and real and perceived threats to the
political elite. Limitations on political rights including freedom of expres-
sion occur to curtail political opposition to the regime and especially the
hard- line conservatives in power. Human rights violations that occur
in the name of Islam may offer more hope for progress. Since ijtihad
124 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
(interpretation of religious texts/independent reasoning) allows for the
reexamination of some Islamic doctrines and ideas, this may provide an
avenue for improving the human rights record in Iran. But we should
also note the limitation to using Islam to promote human rights. Islam
will only go so far when the political elites feel they are threatened.
Iran’s political system is far from a mature, liberal democracy that
guarantees all its citizens basic internationally recognized human rights.
Various human rights including freedom of speech, press, assembly, the
right to a fair trial, due process, and bodily integrity are often violated
due to perceived threats to those in power. However we have also seen
some limited progress on second generation rights such as improved
health care and education. Since real and perceived threats account for
some of the human rights violations in Iran, removing threats will be
essential to improving human rights protection in the future. The spiral
model with some modifi cations offers a blueprint (although not a teleo-
logical guarantee) for greater protection of human rights in the future.
While the road is not guaranteed, the less threatened the regime feels the
greater chance there is for improved human rights protections in Iran.
Notes
1. Thomas Risse and Kathryn Sikkink, “The Socialization of International
Human Rights Norms into Domestic Practices: Introduction,” in The
Power of Human Rights: International Norms and Domestic Change,
edited by Thomas Risse, Stephen C. Ropp, and Kathryn Sikkink
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 1.
2. I cannot cover all of the rights articulated in the Universal Declaration of
Human Rights, so I have selected some specifi c civil and political rights
that are representative of the situation of human rights in Iran.
3. Akbar Ganji, The Road to Democracy in Iran (Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press, 2008), 21–22.
4. The fi ve years from 1992 to 1997 saw a deterioration in rights according
to Freedom House: 6 and 7. Between 1998 and 2007 the number has
remained relatively stable at 6.
5. Worldwide Governance indicators for 2009 (1996–2008). Percentile
Rank: Voice and Accountability 8.2; Political Stability 14.4; Government
Effectiveness 24.6; Regulatory Quality 2.9; Rule of Law 23.0; Control
of Corruption 28.5; All of these statistics have deteriorated since 2003.
infor.worldbank.org/governance. Accessed on August 5, 2011.
6. http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2008/nea/119115.htm.
7. Robin Wright, In the Name of God (New York: Simon and Schuster,
1989), 98.
8. Ibid., 100–101.
9. Ibid., 107.
10. Zarah Ghahramani with Robert Hillman, My Life as a Traitor (New York:
Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2008).
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 125
11. Scott Shane and Michael R Gordon, “Dissident’s Tale of Epic Escape
from Iran’s Vise,” New York Times, July 13, 2008. www.nytimes.
com/2008/07/13/world/middleeast/13dissident.html.
12. In September 2008 President Ahmadinejad said, “Everyone is free to
express what he or she wants whether for or against the government and
there are in fact hundreds of opinions that in fact speak in favor of our poli-
cies.” The interview can be found at www.nytimes.com/2008/09/26/
world/middleeast/26 iran- transcript.html?ref=world&…
13. John Esposito and John Voll, Islam and Democracy (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1996), 66.
14. Khomeini, Islam and Revolution: Writings and Declarations of Iman
Khomeini, translated and annotated by Hamid Algar (Berkeley, CA:
Mizan Press, 1981), 113.
15. Mahmoud Sadri and Ahmad Sadri, “Introduction,” in Reason, Freedom,
and Democracy in Islam: Essential Writings of Abdolkarim Soroush, ed.
Sadri and Sadri (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), xi.
16. Quoted in Robin Wright, The Last Great Revolution: Turmoil and Trans-
formation in Iran (New York: Knopf, 2000), 42.
17. Molavi, The Soul of Iran, (New York: Norton, 2002), 201–202.
18. Nazila Fathi “Iran’s Top Leader Dashes Hopes for a Compromise”,”
the New York Times, June 20, 2009, www.nytimes.com/2009/06/20/
world/middleeast/20iran.html?hp=&pa…
19. Ibid.
20. Vanessa Martin, Creating an Islamic State: Khomeini and the Making of a
New Iran (New York: I. B. Tauris, 2000), 155.
21. Ganji, Road to Democracy in Iran, 33.
22. Azar Nafi si, Reading Lolita in Tehran, (New York: Random House,
2003). The legal age for girls to marry was raised from 9 to 13
Rebecca Barlow and Shahram Akbarzadeh, “Prospects for Feminism
in the Islamic Republic of Iran,” Human Rights Quarterly 30 (2008),
21–40 at 27.
23. Valentine M. Moghadam, “Islamic Feminism and Its Discontents:
Towards a Resolution of the Debate,” Signs, Vol. 27, No. 4 (Summer
2002), pp. 1135–1171.
24. Barlow and Akbarzadeh, “Prospects for Feminism in the Islamic Republic
of Iran,” 23.
25. Barbara Ann Rieffer- Flanagan, “Improving Democracy in Religious
Nation- States: Norms of Moderation and Cooperation in Ireland and
Iran,” Muslim World Journal of Human Rights, Vol. 4, No. 2 (2007);
Human Rights Watch, “Iran: Women on Trial for Peaceful Demonstra-
tion: Activists Arrested for Protesting Discriminatory Laws,” February
27, 2007; Kasra Naji, Ahmadinejad: The Secret History of Iran’s Radical
Leader (Berkley, CA: University of California Press, 2008), 252.
26. Payvand, “Iran: Women’s Rights Activists Get Suspended Lashing Sen-
tences,” April 24, 2008.
27. Ibid.
28. World Bank, “Poverty in Iran: Trends and Structure, 1986–1998,”
Middle East and North Africa Region, Washington, D.C.
126 B a r b a r a A n n R i e f f e r – F l a n a g a n
29. Electricity: 16.2 percent (1977) to 98.3 percent (2004); Piped Water:
11.7 percent (1977) to 89.0 percent (2004). Statistical Center of Iran,
1984–2005 Household Income and Expenditure Surveys.
30. Iran Statistical Yearbook 1385 (2006–7) www.sci.org.ir.
31. In 1960 there were 281 deaths per 1,000 births versus 42 deaths per
1,000 births in 2001. World Bank, “World Development Indicators,”
2003, Washington, D.C.
32. Djavad Salehi- Isfahani, “Oil Wealth and Economic Growth in Iran,” in
Contemporary Iran: Economy, Society, Politics, edited by Ali Gheissari
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 15.
33. Pardis Mahdavi, “Who Will Catch Me If I Fall? Health and the Infras
tructure of Risk for Urban Young Iranians,” in Ali Gheissari edition, at
page 165.
34. Statistical Center of Iran, www.sci.org.
35. Roksana Bahramitash and Hadi Salehi Esfahani, “Nimble Fingers
No Longer! Women’s Employment in Iran,” in Ali Gheissari edition, at
page 92.
36. Barlow and Akbarzadeh, “Prospects for Feminism in the Islamic Republic
of Iran,” 24.
37. Statistical Center of Iran.
38. As Bahramitash and Saleshi Esfahani note this is contrary to the female
workforce in other parts of the global south, at page 79.
39. Barlow and Akbarzadeh, “Prospects for Feminism in the Islamic Republic
of Iran,” 28.
40. Hassan Hanizadeh, “Women’s Rights in Iran,” Tehran Times, July 8,
2007.
41. This is consistent with Davenport’s fi ndings on threat perception and an
increase in repression. Christian Davenport, “ Multi- Dimensional Threat
Perception and State Repression: An Inquiry into Why States Apply
Negative Sanctions,” American Journal of Political Science, Vol. 38, No. 3
(1995), 683–713.
42. The description of the fi ve- phase spiral model can be found on pages
22–35.
43. Risse and Sikkink, “Socialization of International Human Rights
Norms,” 23.
44. Ibid., 29.
45. Note criticisms of Iran by various international NGOs discussed earlier in
the chapter.
46. It is also worth noting that none of the countries discussed in The Power
of Human Rights were oil producing states that were also making progress
on the nuclear front.
47. While the United States does not control Israeli foreign policy, Washington
can apply pressure on Tel Aviv to avoid threats to Tehran and especially a
threat of strike on Iranian territory.
48. Khomeini, Islam and Revolution, 213.
49. Ibid., 214.
50. Tehran Times, “Leader: No Confl ict between Women’s Social and Family
Roles,” July 5, 2007.
T h e J a n u s N at u r e o f H u m a n R i g h t s i n I r a n 127
51. His remarks can be found at http://www.leader.ir/langs/en/?p=content
Show&id=5618.
52. State Department Report, February 25, 2009.
53. Khomeini, Islam and Revolution, 195.
54. Tehran Times, “Ahmadinejad submits International War Crimes Bill,”
February 23, 2009, at www.tehrantimes.com.
55. Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na’im has argued for both an internal dialogue
within Islam and a cross- cultural dialogue between the Islamic world
and the West that would alleviate any confl icts between Islam and inter-
national human rights. “Shari’a and Islamic Family Law: Transition and
Transformation,” Ahfad Journal (December 2006), Vol. 23, No. 2,
pp. 2–30, at p. 5.
56. Nazila Fathi, “Iran Judge Asks for Review Case of Jailed Journalist,”
New York Times, April 12, 2009, at www.nytimes.com/2009/04/21/
world/middleeast/2/iran.html.
4
C h a p t e r 7
From Omission to Reluctant
Recognition: Political
Parties’ Approach to
Women’s Rights in Turkey
Z e h r a F . K a b a s a k a l A r a t
Introduction1
Subordination of women in Muslim communities and states has been
problematized by many, ranging from Muslim Feminists who focus
on sociohistorical factors to Orientalists who essentialize religion and
berate Islam. However, the secularist and republican regime of the pre-
dominantly Muslim- populated Turkey has been treated as an exceptional
case. Although some improvements in the status of women in Turkey
is undeniable, the country is far from granting equal rights to women
and approaching gender equality (Arat 1994 and 1998). Major political
actors have subscribed to traditional gender notions, and women face all
forms of discrimination and human rights violations.
In this chapter, I focus on the gender approach of political parties in
Turkey, as expressed in party programs issued between 1920 and 2007.
First, I present that the political parties’ approach developed from a
complete omission of women to gradually recognizing them as citizens,
acknowledging their presence in economic life—with a concern about
balancing their family responsibilities with work—and fi nally accept-
ing a range of women’s rights. I also show that left- wing parties have
been more responsive to women’s needs and more willing to employ
130 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
a feminist discourse in time. However, considering that the overall
change toward addressing women’s needs and rights has to be related
to events that affect the whole country, I contend that domestic factors,
especially socioeconomic changes and women’s movements, have been
critical for the overall shifts in party positions. By stressing the relevance
and signifi cance of domestic politics, I also intend to offer a corrective
to the prevalent human rights models, which tend to focus on interna-
tional relations and attribute improvements in human rights practices in
developing countries to the external pressures asserted by Western states
and international human rights organizations (Krasner 1993; Keck and
Sikkink 1998; Risse, Ropp, and Sikkink 1999; Landman 2005).
Why Political Parties?
Political parties are important political machinery that became indispensable
in representative democracies. Although theoretically conceivable, politics
without political parties constitute a dismal possibility in modern times. In
all regimes, including one- party rules, parties fulfi ll numerous important
functions. They serve as mediators and communication channels between
the state apparatus and the public at large (Schattschneider 1942:124;
Lipson 1959: 12–13; Epstein 1967: 31–45; Johnston 2005). In most
societies they act as the main vehicle of political participation (Stokes 1999,
250). Among their overlapping functions, we can list: political socialization;
interest articulation and aggregation (Almond and Powell 1966); political
recruitment; debating and formulating policies and policy frameworks; and
implementing or monitoring government policies.
Emphasizing their role in the policy formulation process, Anthony
Downs argues that in multiparty systems political parties do not win elec-
tions in order to formulate policies but they formulate policies to win elec-
tions (1957: 54), and others note that “[p]ostwar democratic theory often
asserts that political parties transmit popular preferences into policy” (Stokes
1999: 250). Although the extent to which parties’ policy positions refl ect
those of the electorate or parties implement their programs upon assum-
ing power has not been settled (Rose 1969; Budge and Hofferbert 1990;
Hofferbert and Budge 1992; King et al. 1993; van Biezen 2004; Stokes
1999), analysts agree that political parties are important players in shaping
the political agenda and discourse of the country in which they operate.
However, political parties are seldom studied for their approach to and
impact on human rights, or in terms of their treatment and recruitment
of women (Basu 2005: 1). Yet, trusting their political and policy infl u-
ence, Amnesty International has recently called on “all political parties
of Pakistan to honestly commit themselves to upholding respect for and
protection of human rights” and issued a 12-point plan to be followed
(Amnesty International 2008).
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 131
Political parties have been particularly important in Turkish politics.
Fredrick Frey, assessing the political participation in Turkey as early as
the 1950s, does not hesitate to assert that “Turkish politics are party
politics,” because within Turkey’s power structure “the political party is
the main unoffi cial link between the government and the larger, extra-
governmental groups of people” (Frey 1965: 301–303).
Turkey started to experience party politics at the turn of the twentieth
century, under the Ottoman rule (Tunaya 1998). Before the Republic of
Turkey was established in October 1923, the Grand National Assembly,
established by the nationalists in April 1920, was witnessing the emergence
of groups developed around ideological and political rivalries. Mustafa
Kemal and other founders of the Republic turned their group into a politi-
cal party and established Halk Fırkası (HF) in September 1923. The event
marked the beginning of the one- party regime, which lasted until 1945,
when the multiparty electoral system was adopted. However, Turkey’s
democratic development has not been smooth and was interrupted by
four military interventions (in 1960, 1971, 1980, and 1997). Although
the military interventions and frequent Constitutional Court decisions
led to closing parties and barring their leaders from politics, politicians
and parties in Turkey proved to be successful at regrouping and emerging
as a new party that carried a different name but the message of the then
“extinct” party.2 Most of these effectively conveyed their claims, and the
core constituencies, if not the entire public, understood the link and saw
the new party as the continuation or an offspring of the old one.3
Political parties in Turkey have played important roles in agenda-
setting and framing issues, though at varying degrees at different junc-
tures. Election times have been particularly important, even during the
one- party era. Party programs and platforms were presented to the public
in campaign speeches and publications. Even when broadcasting was a
state monopoly, political parties enjoyed allocated times on radio and TV
to convey their messages. After the transition to the multiparty/com-
petitive electoral system in 1945, political parties enjoyed not only more
legitimacy and visibility but also more freedom, compared to the past and
to other civic organizations. Thus, how political parties address human
rights in their programs can be taken as a barometer of the signifi cance
attributed to human rights in general and the relative importance of
specifi c human rights. As such, political party programs at least partially
reveal the political elite discourse on human rights.
I contend that since political parties try to win elections, they would
employ certain language and agenda that are deemed appealing to the elec-
torate and addressing their concerns and preferences. Thus, we can expect
political parties to be more responsive to domestic politics and pressures than
to the international ones. Although their susceptibility to external pressures
may increase once they win elections and become the governing party.
132 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
Parties and Women’s Rights in Turkey
The information on political party discourse on women’s rights was
gathered through 97 political programs issued during the 88-year period
between 1920 and 2007, by employing manifest and latent content anal-
yses. The study includes all political parties that have been represented in
the parliament, as well as a few others that failed to secure representation
but enjoyed considerable attention and media coverage. (See Table 7.1,
for a list of parties included.)
Table 7.1 The list of political parties and programs included in the study
Party Name and Acronym Program Date Party Name and
Acronym
Program
Date
ACF—Ahali
Cumhuriyet Fırkası
1930 LCİÇF—Lâyik
Cumhuriyetçi İşçi
ve Çiftçi Fırkası
1931
AKP—Adalet ve Kalkınma
Partisi
2002 LDP—Liberal
Demokrat Parti
1946
ANAP—Anavatan Partisi 1983; 2002 MÇP—Milliyetçi
Çalışma Partisi
1986; 1988
AP—Adalet Partisi 1961 1964;
1969; 1974
MDP—Milliyetçi
Demokrasi Partisi
1983
BBP—Büyük Birlik Partisi 1993; 1999;
2002
MHP—Milliyetçi
Hareket Partisi
1969; 1973;
1993; 2000
BP—Birlik Partisi 1967 MKP—Milli
Kalkınma Partisi
1945
CGP—Cumhuriyetçi Güven
Partisi
1971 MNP—Milli
Nizam Partisi
1970
CHF—Cumhuriyet Halk
Fırkası
1927; 1931 MP—Millet Partisi 1948; 1967
CHP—Cumhuriyet Halk
Partisi
1935; 1939;
1943; 1947;
1953; 1954;
1959; 1976;
1993; 1994;
2002; 2006
MSP—Milli
Selamet Partisi
1973
CKMP—Cumhuriyetçi
Köylü Millet Partisi
1961; 1965 MTSP—Müstakil
Türk Sosyalist
Partisi
1948
CMP—Cumhuriyetçi Millet
Partisi
1954 MP—Muhafazakar
Parti
1983
DEHAP—
Demokratik Halk Partisi
1997; 2003 ÖDP—Özgürlük ve
Dayanışma Partisi
1996; 2006
DEP—Demokrasi Partisi 1993 RP—Refah Partisi 1983
(Continued)
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 133
DİP—Demokrat İşçi Partisi 1950 SCF—Serbes
Cumhuriyet Fırkası
1930
DP—Demokrat Parti 1946; 1951;
1998
SHP—
Sosyaldemokrat
Halk Partisi
2002
DSP—Demokratik Sol Parti 1985; 2003;
2007
SHP—Sosyal
Demokrat Halkçı
Parti
1985; 1993
DP—Demokratik Parti 1970 SODEP—Sosyal
Demokrat Parti
1983
DTP—Demokrat Türkiye
Partisi
1997 SP—Saadet Partisi 2001
DTP—Demokratik Toplum
Partisi
2006 TBP—Türkiye
Birlik Partisi
1972; 1980
DYP—Doğru Yol Partisi 1983; 1998 TCAÇP—Türk
Cumhuriyet
Amele ve Çiftçi
Partisi
1930
FP—Fazilet Partisi 1997 TCF—
Terakkiperver
Cumhuriyet Fırkası
1924
GP—Genç Parti 2002 TİÇP—Türkiye
İşçi ve Çiftçi Partisi
1946
GP—Güven Partisi 1967 TİP—Türkiye İşçi
Partisi
1964; 1975
HADEP—Halkın
Demokrasi Partisi
1994 TKP—Türkiye
Köylü Partisi
1952
HEP—Halkın Emek Partisi 1990; 1992 TSDP—Türk
Sosyal Demokrat
Partisi
1946
HF—Halk Fırkası 1923 TSEKP—Türk
Sosyalist Emekçi ve
Köylü Partisi
1946
HP—Halkçı Parti 1956 TSİP—Türkiye
Sosyalist İşçi Partisi
1976
HP—Hürriyet Partisi 1983 TSP—Türkiye
Sosyalist Partisi
1946
HYP—Halkın Yükseliş
Partisi
2005 YTP—Yeni Türkiye
Partisi
1961
İDP—İslâm
Demokrat Partisi
1952 YTP—Yeni Türkiye
Partisi
2002
İkinci Grup 1923 YVİP—Yalnız
Vatan İçin Partisi
1946
Table 7.1 Continued
Party Name and Acronym Program Date Party Name and
Acronym
Program
Date
134 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
For the manifest content analysis, the term “women’s rights” is
designated as the key word and the number of times it is mentioned in a
program is tallied. The fi ndings of this quantitative approach show that,
overall, parties have been reluctant to employ the term in their programs.
In 97 programs examined, the term appears only in 30 programs for a
total of 49 times. Multiple references appear in later years, as the tendency
to mention women’s rights increases over time, starting in the 1960s and
gaining momentum after 2000. As observed elsewhere, left- wing politi-
cal parties are more inclined to address women’s rights (Jacquette 1997;
Basu 2005; Sacchet 2005), and more frequent references are made by
smaller left- wing parties that lacked representation in the parliament.
However, some party programs promote women’s rights without
mentioning the term. The latent content analysis allows us to examine
the overall gender approach of parties, which cannot be captured by a few
key words. The section that follows reports the fi nding of the latent con-
tent analysis and shows both the overall pattern of change and the varia-
tion in the gender approach of ideologically distinct political parties.
The Pattern of Change
The political history of modern Turkey is typically examined by dividing
it into three major time periods: (1) The one- party rule, 1920–1945;
(2) the multiparty era, 1945–1980; and (3) the post-1980. I employ the
same basic chronological approach and summarize the gender discourse
of political parties accordingly.
The One- Party Era
Until 1945, the political regime in Turkey was a one- party rule by Cum-
huriyet Halk Partisi (CHP).4 However, although limited both in number
and power, other parties were established during this period, and a few
received considerable public attention and press coverage.
Until the 1930s, we do not see any references to women in politi-
cal party programs. This is not a surprising fi nding, since women had
no place in political life. In fact, the word “woman” enters into party
programs for the fi rst time in 1930, in reference to promoting women’s
political rights. The program of Serbes Cumhuriyet Fırkası (SCF) notes
that the Party “will advocate the expansion of political rights to women
as well” (Art. 11).5 The governing party CHF, which had extended suf-
frage to women for the municipal elections in 1930, recognized women’s
political rights in its program after the fact in 1931:
Our Party observes citizens’ political rights without any distinction to sex.
In fact, our Party, aware that our women have supported the unity from
every corner of domestic life throughout the glorious and profound history
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 135
of the Turkish nation, considers its duty to prepare the conditions necessary
for women to exercise their political rights in parliamentary elections, as it
has been the case in municipal elections. The Party trusts that only then
it would be invigorating our [nation’s] historical and honorable life with its
character appropriate to the new convention (Art. I.4).
The 1935 program of CHP includes a section on “Civic Rights,”
which introduces the equality principle: “The Party does not make a
male- female distinction in assigning citizens [their] rights and duties”
(Art. 4-B). The promise to ensure “equality in rights and duties” for both
sexes becomes a common occurrence in party programs, especially after
women were granted the right to vote in municipal elections (1930) and
national election (1934). However, the principle of “equality in rights
and duties” appears to apply to only a few rights, such as the right to
vote, since the party programs tend to enshrine family and display a gen-
dered discourse that recognizes and values women for their reproductive
function, childcare, and household responsibilities.6 The 1931 program
of the CHP notes that “[t]he privacy of family is the principle element
in Turkish domestic life” (VI.1),7 promises to take measures that would
stimulate population increase, and continues as follows: “The Party is
particularly attentive to the lives of children. There will be an effort to
increase the number of centers for child delivery. In work areas, the estab-
lishment and proliferation of institutions that take care of children when
female laborers are at work will continue” (VII.3).
Starting with this program, the CHP recognizes the fact that some
women have to work. In its 1935 program, the party’s goals include
“[t]he protection of working mothers and their children” (Art. 56-C)
and “opening nurseries in business areas for women who have the
responsibility of earning a living” (Art. 58). The 1943 program contains
new proposals that would encourage women’s participation in public
life and desegregation of sexes: “Technical training is considered to be
the most important issue of a strong nation. Providing, renewing, and
enhancing the knowledge of every citizen, man or woman, in an educa-
tional institution, now take place among the duties of the State” (Art. 9).
Referring to the state- sponsored community centers that provided adult
education and cultural programs, the program indicates that “no Halkevi
or Halkodasi can be established if it is lacking any of the main elements,
including a meeting hall for men and women to assemble together, a library,
and activities of fi ne arts” (Art. 9, emphasis added).
The Multiparty Era, 1945–1980
Although the inauguration of multiparty politics shows proliferation in
the direct or implicit references to women’s status and needs in party
programs, none of the programs issued by Demokrat Parti (DP), which
136 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
appeared as the main opposition party and then ruled the country
through the 1950s, mentions “woman.” However, they defi ne “Turkish
society” as one “that is based on family and the principle of [private]
property” and place a special emphasis on the institution of family.
In fact, family is espoused and enshrined as the central unit of society
and culture, practically in every party program issued in Turkey, including
the most recent ones. Some programs issued in the 1940s and 1950s by
right- wing political parties treat population increase as essential to eco-
nomic development and take a pro- natalist position.8 For example, the
Liberal Demokrat Parti (LDP) states that “every citizen should consider
raising a family as a national and sacred duty” (1946, Art. 19), and the
1952 program of the İslâm Demokrat Partisi (İDP) suggests imposing
penalties for those who fail to meet a prerequisite of fulfi lling that duty:
“Marriage and birth are our national issues. We will facilitate both. For
those who refrain from marriage, their taxes will be increased; and, if
they are civil servants, they will be held back in promotions” (Art. 18).
Since the workforce was mainly male, by imposing a penalty on men the
program considers men’s control over women as natural, legitimizes it,
and expects it to be used by men to ensure that women continue to fulfi ll
their “reproductive responsibility.”
The pro- natalist approach resurfaces in the programs of Islamist and
ultra- nationalist parties, which have promoted “Turkish-Islamic” synthe-
sis, in the form of objections to birth control and abortion. The program
of Milli Selamet Partisi (MSP), established in 1972, lacks explicit refer-
ences to women but unequivocally states: “Our party opposes the idea of
population planning. It will encourage the increase of our population”
(1973, Art. 87).
As references to women in party programs increase in this period, we
also see a common thread that recognizes women mainly as mothers and
housewives. Consequently, any service promised to women is presented
with an understanding that it will help women fulfi ll their domestic
responsibilities better.
Adalet Partisi (AP), which dominated the politics between 1961 and
1980, either as the governing party or as the main opposition one,
acknowledged women in its fi rst program only in one article and simply
in terms of domestic responsibilities: “The Party recognizes all rights in all
areas held by men for women [as well], and it views the need to provide all
forms of assistance to them, especially to facilitate [fulfi lling] their duties in
[sustaining] family health and social life” (961, Art. 23). Supposedly more
progressive Cumhuriyetçi Güven Partisi (CGP) notes that “Turkish women
have a distinguished and very important status within family and society
in terms of the spirit and manners that will be conveyed to Turkish chil-
dren who constitute the future of the nation” and defi nes raising “Turkish
women as able to fully comprehend their duties and responsibilities within
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 137
family and society and as able to fulfi ll the requirements of these with
precision” as a “national need” (1971, 81–82).
The tendency to recognize and value women mainly for their repro-
ductive and family responsibilities resurfaces in parties’ treatment of
women’s employment and participation in the workforce. Programs that
acknowledge that some women work usually express a concern about the
accommodation of working women as mothers. Maternity leave and day
care programs are promised frequently, but with an understanding that
women’s primary domain is home and childcare is women’s responsibil-
ity. Designating certain occupations as inappropriate for women, some
indicate that women, like children, should be spared from “harmful”
work. As in the 1964 program of AP—which reads: “We consider it
appropriate to have women and children among the working population
to be protected by special provisions” (Art. 68)—often discussing women
and children in the same section and tone, programs reveal parties’ pater-
nalistic approach toward women.
In addition to paternalism, the right- wing and far- right national-
ist parties’ programs display essentialism by proposing to devise jobs
according to the “characteristics of men and women” or “appropriate to
the citizen’s age, strength and sex.” For example, the programs issued
by Cumhuriyetçi Köylü Millet Partisi (CKMP), which target “eliminating
conditions that cause women’s misery and enslavement” (1965 Art. 31),
also include proposals that follow biological reductionism—e.g., dif-
ferentiation of work according to the characteristics of men and women
(1961, Art. 104), ensuring that characteristics of men and women will be
considered in national education in a scientifi c manner (1965, Art. 56),
and offering jobs as “appropriate to the age, strength, and sex of the
citizen,” and protecting “[c]hildren, the youth and women . . . from
[dangerous and diffi cult] work conditions” (1965, Art. 242).
The same sentiments resurface in programs of Millet Partisi (MP) and
Milliyetçi Hareket Partisi (MHP), which appeared as splinters and suc-
cessors of CKMP. The MHP’s program, issued in 1969, problematizes
women’s subordination, promises equality and fulfi llment of women’s
already recognized rights (Art. 30), but then expresses the commitment
to “ensure that male and female characteristics are scientifi cally observed in
the national educational system”(Art. 56, emphasis added).
The left- wing parties of the 1960s and 1970s were not much differ-
ent in their gender discourse. Although it adopted a Social Democratic
outlook in the 1960s, CHP kept circulating its 1954 program, which
addresses women only in one article that declares the party’s mission as
ensuring that “all Turks, men and women, freely apply their ability and
reach an advanced and affl uent living standard, as equals in rights and
duties and as confi dent about their status and future” (Art. 1), for over
two decades. The new program, issued in 1976, spares less than one page
138 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
to women (p. 103) only to acknowledge that some women work and
promise equal pay, healthy environment, childcare, increased participa-
tion in unions, and maternal leave.
Socialist parties could not escape gendering work and emphasizing
mothering, either. The Türkiye Birlik Partisi (TBP) program, including a
section entitled “Women’s Rights,” reads as follows:
Women are equal to men in all respects. Women and men walk together
in education, work, payment, and Türkiye Birlik Partisi considers married
women’s work in occupations relevant to their skills as a social and economic
necessity, and motherhood as a public service. There should be special assis-
tance to married women and women with little children, they should not be
forced to work in hard and improper jobs because of low [family] income,
and they should be able to have their vacations with their husbands. Women
should have full legal equality, and their social and economic equality
should not be eclipsed. Marriages should be facilitated, and both the man
and woman should be able to initiate divorce.
Although Türkiye Birlik Partisi recognizes women’s right to develop
her own individuality, it fi nds the protection of women from excessive work
and fatigue as crucial to their ability to perform their duties as mothers and
home makers (TBP 1972, 62, emphasis added).
Türkiye İşçi Partisi (TİP) was the only Socialist party that managed to
acquire seats in the parliament (though only for a short period of time).
TİP declared its opposition to all forms of discrimination, including dis-
crimination based on sex, and became the fi rst party that incorporated
the “equal pay for equal work” principle into its program, in 1964.
Although its 1972 program includes several progressive measures, it falls
short of challenging the mentality that assigns childcare responsibilities
to women:
. . . [The Party] envisions the easing of work and living conditions for
women through: removing the anti- democratic provisions in law; taking
functional and effective measures to tackle working women’s diffi culties
related to motherhood; meticulously implementing the principle of equal
pay for equal work for female laborers; ensuring women’s active role in
[determining] the course of society by participating in every level of public
affairs and social life, and rearranging the retirement age with a consid-
eration of the abrasive impact of capitalist living conditions on women
(emphasis added).
Women’s education, if included in party programs issued during this
era, was not treated as a “right” but as necessary for making them better
mothers. The programs issued by Türkiye Köylü Partisi (TKP) not only
note that its “goal is to provide for the education and advancement of our
women in every respect, especially in regard to facilitating [the fulfi llment
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 139
of] their duties within the family heart” (1952, Art. 15) but also declares
that it is the party’s duty “to bring up Turkish women in a way that
appreciates and teaches their duty and responsibilities in family and soci-
ety” (1961, Art. 45). The same approach is evident in the program of one
of the fi rst Islamist parties, Milli Nizam Partisi (MNP):
Our party, believing in the principle that everyone, man or woman, has
the right to be learned, considers it necessary to equip our children, who
are tomorrow’s parents, with the necessary pedagogical knowledge, and
to provide—especially for the future mothers, our daughters who are
housewives—[instructions on] home economics and information on the
physical, spiritual, moral and religious training of children (1970, Art. 24).
Since the 1980 Military Coup
The military coup of 1980 not only suspended party politics for three
years but also revamped the political party system in Turkey. All political
parties active before the coup were banned, and their leaders were barred
from politics. During the transition to civilian rule, new parties were
allowed to be established under the military government’s watchful eyes,
and only three of them were permitted to participate in the 1983 par-
liamentary elections: Anavatan Partisi (ANAP), Halkçı Parti (HP), and
Milliyetçi Demokrasi Partisi (MDP). The screening of political parties
and other measures taken by the military regime geared toward prevent-
ing the rise of class politics that characterized the 1960s and 1970s, and
they were successful in squeezing the ideological spectrum of parties,
at least until the late 1980s, when the ban on former party leaders was
removed. The military repression was particularly harsh on the left- wing
groups. But the suppression of class politics gave way to identity politics
and allowed women to address their problems by focusing on gender
oppression.
Although a few party programs of this time period fail to mention
women (i.e., ANAP 1983 and 2002, MP 1983, RP 1983, and MÇP
1986), there is a noticeable increase in the number of references made to
women and women’s issues in the post-1980 era. Along with the increas-
ing tendency to recognize women’s needs and rights, party programs
start to display considerable diversity in their gender approach.
In transition to the civilian rule in 1983, ANAP came to power with a
landslide victory and ruled either alone or as a coalition partner for most of
the 1980s and 1990s. However, it ignored women (not even mentioning
the word) in both programs that it issued (1983 and 2002). MDP, which
later merged with ANAP, demonstrated a traditionalist approach, defi ned
family as the foundation of Turkish society, and pledged the protection of
mothers, along with family and children (Art. 56). Its program, including
a promise to “ensure that the work conditions are appropriate for the age,
140 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
sex and strength of the working person and that children, women and the
mentally or physically disabled individuals are under special protection”
(Art. 44, emphasis added), displays both essentialism and paternalism.
It acknowledges women’s double burden and promises mitigation, but
with an approach that treats women’s participation in the workforce as
undesirable and stemming out of need, (Art. 57).9
The program of the relatively more progressive Halkçı Parti (HP) also
demonstrates a traditionalist and home- centered approach in address-
ing women’s needs and promises to assist working women by providing
childcare, part- time work, and maternal leave. The only program issued
by the religious Refah Partisi (RP, 1983) fails to mention women;
although it includes a nondiscrimination clause, indicating that the party
“treats everyone as equals without distinction to religion, language, race
or sect,” it omits listing sex. The program of Fazilet Partisi (FP), which
was established in 1997 by members of the Islamist RP after its closing
by the Constitutional Court, also leaves sex out of its nondiscrimination
statement but offers a brief statement in support of women: “We consider
women to be the foundational pillar of the society. There will be special
attention to women’s education and training, in order to enable women
to be more successful in economic and public life” (1997).
The break away from the traditionalist approach fi rst appears in the
program of Sosyal Demokrasi Partisi (SODEP), which treats women’s
emancipation and gender equality as prerequisites of social equality at large.
Its section entitled “Women’s Problems” addresses not only women’s
rights but also their freedom; it further implies that women may want to
enter the workforce, as a choice, regardless of their fi nancial need:
The party is cognizant that a free and egalitarian system can be realized
only if all individuals in the society have free and equal rights without any
male- female distinction. There will be an emphasis on general and specifi c
educational programs that enable a woman to be better cultivated and to
claim her rights.
The party considers it a duty to remove the obstacles faced by women
who desire to work, [and plans to fulfi ll it] by opening childcare centers and
nurseries, and taking similar measures (1983, 37–38, emphasis added).
SODEP’s gender approach and proposals are repeated in the 1985
and 1993 programs issued by Sosyaldemoktat Halkçı Parti (SHP), which
emerged in 1985, when SODEP and HP merged. The SHP program
emphasizes the structural causes of discrimination by pointing out that
“[w]omen’s problems that stem from being a woman and have been
sustained throughout history persist today, albeit in different forms, in
our social structures and cultural conditioning” and considers remov-
ing “all obstacles placed before women for being women” as necessary
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 141
(1985, 46). Although it does not spare much space to women electorates,
the 1985 program of the left- of- center Demokratik Sol Parti (DSP) also
assumes a rather radical posture: “Women’s active participation in party
work will be encouraged in order to enhance the verity of male- female
equality, to properly appreciate women’s approach to solving social prob-
lems, and to start the development of democratic culture at home” (1985,
35, emphasis added).
Although pro- women and feminist discourses started to become
increasingly common, especially since the 1990s, the importance assigned
to family, emphasis placed on motherhood, and proposals to restrict
women’s employment opportunities to protect them—prevalent in the
earlier periods—did not vanish. Most parties continued to display a
dualistic approach, as exemplifi ed by the pro- business Doğru Yol Partisi
(DYP). The party’s 1983 program does not address the female elector-
ate directly, but promising “nurseries and daycare centers for working
fathers and mothers,” it presents a rather gender- neutral approach toward
childcare. The 1998 program pledges to take action favorable to women
on a number of issues, ranging from providing education and training
opportunities to making legal arrangements that would secure women’s
property rights and increase penalties for domestic violence and sexual
harassment in the workplace.
Arguing that “Women should gain their economic independence and
be integrated into social life,” the program calls for measures that involve
“ well- meaning discrimination” (1998, 14). On the other hand, justifying
the need to address women’s rights and problems by “their important
place in our family structure,” promising to make arrangements that
would “allow women to work at home and get paid by unit,” and “offer-
ing broad credit opportunities for the work that they do, or will do, at
home by using their own labor and skills,” the program reveals that
women are still perceived as home- bound (1998, 14).
This dualism is more pronounced in programs issued by parties
that emerged as successors to the far- right Turkish nationalist MHP,10
which call for realizing women’s rights recognized in law but also
stress women’s role within the family. The 1988 program of MÇP, later
adopted by MHP (1993), includes a section entitled “FAMILY” that
starts with the sentence declaring that “[f]amily is the main social unit of
Turkish society” and continues as follows:
. . . We also see the role of family in raising children, who are the guarantees
of our future, as very important and believe in the necessity of supporting,
protecting and fostering the Turkish family as immersed in our national and
spiritual values. In an effort to mount family, which is the foundation of
our nation, on healthy bases, the advancement of mothers will be assigned
importance and all measures will be taken to ensure strengthening the
142 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
institution of family. The measures that are directed at the protection of the
health of mothers and children will be emphasized.
We fi ercely reject attacks directed at family and its social functions
under the disguise of feminism. Nevertheless, we believe in the defense of
women and women’s rights, as well as the necessity of protecting women
as respected beings along with men. (the bold font in the original)
They also object to abortion and artifi cial insemination, reject
women’s right to choose, and propose placing family planning under the
state’s control. However, this tone changes in MHP’s 2000 program.
Although women’s issues and children are still addressed under the same
subheadings and women are anchored in family, the new program drops
the explicit rejection of feminism and pledges to remove “all actual and
legal discrimination against women,” and institute “equal pay for equal
work.” Noting that “Women’s rate of literacy and participation in the
labor force are low,” the program promises to elevate “women’s social
status” by improving their “education level and ensuring their expanded
participation in the development process, work life, and decision- making
mechanisms.”
In contrast, Büyük Birlik Partisi (BBP), which split from the MHP in
1993, adopted a more traditionalist approach. All of its programs (issued
in 1993, 1999, and 2002) repeat the following: “Family is the foundation
of society. The society and state take every measure to preserve the power
of traditional Turkish- Islamic family. All forms of activities that would
damage the order and health of family structure would be banned.”
It should be noted that practically all parties continued to iden-
tify family as “the foundation of society” and promise its protection.
Although in general they employ a progressive approach and seek gender
equality, the programs of successive Kurdish nationalist parties also refer
to “motherhood” as “a social and natural duty” and promise its protec-
tion (DEP 1993, 11; HADEP 1994, 12; DEHAP 1997, 14). Uphold-
ing motherhood appears to be more prominent in religious/Islamist
parties’ programs, although both Saadet Partisi (SP) and Adalet ve
Kalkınma Partisi (AKP) appear to be more inclusive and progressive than
FP, their predecessor. The SP and AKP programs, issued in 2001 and
2002, respectively, acknowledge women’s low status and hardship and
promise equal pay for equal work. However, the SP program addresses
women’s issues and rights only in a few sentences and with an emphasis
on the protection of family. Recognizing that women are torn between
their family and work, it notes that the cost of women’s employment
outside home should not be the neglect of children or family (2001,
Section III.14 on family).
Compared to the SP, the AKP program takes a more comprehensive
and progressive approach. It addresses a range of women’s issues by
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 143
including a subheading on women within the “Social Policies” Section
and promises to improve women’s education, employment opportunities,
social security, work conditions, participation in public life, and involve-
ment in the party and in politics at large. Also promised are measures to
prevent violence against women and assisting those who have been sub-
jected to violence. It further pledges to uphold “international standards
on rights and freedoms regarding women, children and work life” and to
implement all principles and requirements of the UN Convention on the
Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (CEDAW).
Yet, it also includes some stipulations that reveal the party’s traditional-
ism. While the program recognizes women as “individuals,” it justifi es
supporting women for “being the most effective [actors] in bringing
up healthy generations.” Thus, its pledge to create “new employment
opportunities” for women is immediately qualifi ed by another promise:
“but the respect for [women’s] work at home will be upheld.” The
program also notes that “[s]ocial security and work conditions will be
improved with a consideration of women’s work life and responsibilities
regarding children and family.”11
Most parties address women’s work and work conditions and promise to
help them, mostly by offering assistance for childcare. However, some pro-
grams, acknowledging that women are torn between their family and work,
express a concern that women’s participation in economic life may come at
the expense of children’s welfare (e.g., SP 2001). Nevertheless, the characte-
rization of some work as not suitable for women, starts to disappear in later
programs, with a few exceptions (e.g., MDP 1983 and BBP 1993).
Most programs issued after 1980 take working women as a given, but
some start to make references to women’s right to work and mention the
need to ensure their equal access to employment, promotion, and pay.
The principle of “equal pay for equal work,” which is mentioned only in
four political party programs issued in the 1960s and 1970s (TİP 1964
and 1974; MNP 1970; and TSİP 1976), becomes a common reference in
programs adopted in the 1990s and later.12 Moreover, economic freedom
and independence enter into the lexicon of political parties, including
some right- wing ones (e.g., DYP 1998; GP 2002).
Although they fall short of proposing concrete measures such as
quotas for women, several programs acknowledge that the right to run
for offi ce does not guarantee women’s equal representation. While the
left- of- center DSP’s programs promise that “women’s active participa-
tion in party work will be encouraged in order to enhance the verity of
male- female equality” (1985 and 2003), the right- of- center DP’s 1998
program pledges to remove “[a]ll legal, administrative and traditional
obstacles that prevent our women, who constitute half of our population
and always have an important place in our society, from playing a more
active role in all areas, but especially in politics and work life” (p. 42).
144 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
Statements such as “equality before law is not enough” (MHP 1993)
or the need to employ a comprehensive approach to women’s hardship
and exclusion from public life become increasingly common in the 1990s
and later. Although limited in number, some political party programs
problematize women’s extra burden and unequal status within family.
For example, the short- lived YTP’s program notes that “[w]omen do not
share [the joys of] life; they carry the heaviest burdens of the family; they
cannot benefi t from family income or leisure time. . . . On this subject,
we will support a change in mentality in every level” (2002, 7–8).
The most comprehensive approach to gender inequalities and women’s
rights are presented in programs issued by CHP in 1993, and later, by
Özgürlük ve Dayanışma Partisi (ÖDP) and a couple of parties established
by Kurdish nationalists (DEHAP 2003 and DTP 2006). In addition to
addressing inequalities in the private domain, they challenge patriarchal
norms and offer feminist analyses of women’s lower status by employing
feminist terminology, including “gender,” “ male- dominance,” “ male-
dominant society,” “sexism,” “sexist,” “patriarchy,” and “feminism.”13
Beginning with the 1993 program, CHP programs note that “[w]omen’s
rights should be claimed, not only in law and economy,” and promise
them to be “positively secured” in the “new Turkey” that the party
would create. They defi ne “the main goal of the Turkey proposed by
the CHP” as “having men and women share together both the benefi ts
and burdens of life in family and society.” The 1994 and 2006 programs
include a section entitled “A Society in which Men and Women are
Equals” that asserts party’s commitment to “change the country from
being a male- dominated society and transform it into a society of free
individuals” (Section 1.4 B).
Under a subheading that reads “Freedom for Women!” the ÖDP
programs provide a comprehensive list of feminist demands, including
the elimination of discriminatory provisions in law, the sexist mental-
ity in educational curricula, and “all forms of control over women’s
bodies”; and the recognition of “crimes against women” in law; the
[public] acceptance of the notion that women should be “in charge of
their lives”; and the establishment of government- fi nanced counseling
centers and shelters for women who face “male aggression in all public
and private domains of life, at work, and at times of war,” and putting
them under women’s management. Highlighting “[t]he goal being the
elimination of male-domination” in all areas, the program affi rms that
“women should not be confi ned to house work, . . . work without pay
or for low pay should be ended; women’s right to be equal in all areas
and right to work for equal pay should be warranted; and the principle
of positive discrimination should be supported by law—in order to allow
women’s right to education and work to be sustained and deeply rooted”
(1996 and 2006).
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 145
Similar issues and proposals are also included in DEHAP (2003) and
DTP (2006) programs. DEHAP’s program notes that “[i]n the twenty-
fi rst century, freedom of women will be important just like human
rights. Contemporary democratic development distinguished itself by
[placing emphasis on] human rights and human freedom.” Three years
later, DTP’s program reintroduces the gender equality measures of the
DEHAP program and mainstreams women’s issues by discussing them
as systemic problems connected to the hierarchical structure of social and
state systems, militarism, capitalism, globalization, and patriarchy. On
women’s political representation, the DTP program sets a female quota
of 40 percent within the party and proposes a 33 percent quota to be set
by law for all political parties. Moreover, it suggests the expansion of the
quota system for the executive boards of trade unions and associations.
The programs issued by CHP, ÖDP, DEHAP, and DTP since the
1990s stand out also for integrating the problem of gender inequality
into the discussion of practically all issues. ÖDP and DTP take a more
radical and comprehensive approach and appear to be the only parties
that oppose discrimination based on one’s sexual orientation.
The silence on gender- based violence, domestic violence, and sexual
harassment is also broken in some programs issued in the 1990s and later,
and several political parties take a stance against them.14 A few of these
programs also make explicit references to the CEDAW, and promise to
uphold and implement its provisions (CHP 1994 and 2006; AKP 2002;
DEHAP 2003; and DTP 2006).15 Moreover, ensuring gender equality
through positive discrimination is promised by a few parties.16
The analysis of references to women and women’s rights in political
party programs since the 1920s show a pattern of gradual change from
no mention of women to explicit feminist analyses of women’s subordi-
nation. Although the mid-1980s may appear to be a major turning point,
the change has been neither linear nor unanimous. While the trend has
been toward an acceptance of women’s participation in economy and
politics and the equality of sexes has started to be perceived as more than
equality before law, several political parties, including the most powerful
ones that have been forming governments, remain committed to preserv-
ing traditional family structures and a gendered division of labor.
What Causes a Change?
Although current human rights theories tend to attribute pro- human
rights development in developing countries to international develop-
ments and pressure, I contend that international human rights devel-
opments have not had an immediate impact on the gender discourse
of political parties in Turkey. Human rights declarations and treaties
adopted by the United Nations (UN), the Council of Europe (CE),
146 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
or the International Labour Organization (ILO) do not correspond to
noted changes in political party discourse (or policies). In general, party
programs do not incorporate the terminology of conventions adopted
in international forums. Instead, they seem to be more responsive to
domestic developments and their constituencies. They also appear to be
reactive rather than proactive and respond to domestic pressure as well as
to other parties’ messages. The change in one party’s discourse may be
triggering change in others’ that are competing for the support of similar
constituencies.
The changes in political parties’ gender discourse appear to have
a stronger correlation with the rise of women’s movements and
socioeconomic changes in Turkey than with major international human
rights events. For example, the recognition of women’s political rights in
Turkey, in 1930, both by political parties and by the government, preceded
the recognition of these rights in international human rights documents.
The move in Turkey can be partially explained by women’s demands
for the right to vote, which had been raised by the women’s movement
of the early twentieth century and had become the main goal of the
Women’s Union after the establishment of the Republic of Turkey (Arat
1998). While women’s demands might have been informed by the inter-
national women’s movement of the late nineteenth century, it would be
hard to claim any sort of “foreign pressure” on the Turkish government
to expand suffrage.
On the other hand, various international conventions that promoted
nondiscrimination and women’s rights seem to have been ignored by
Turkish governments and were not incorporated into the political party
discourse immediately. The ILO’s Equal Remuneration Convention (no.
100) is a case in point. The convention, which institutes the “principle
of equal remuneration for men and women workers for equal value” was
adopted in 1951, but political parties in Turkey did not start to address the
principle of “equal pay for equal work” until 1964, and only three rather
small parties did so in the 1960s and 1970s. Political parties’ references
to the principle of equal pay for equal work, acknowledgment of working
women’s needs, and promises of day care centers began in the 1960s, and
as likely responses to the changes in the country’s economy, labor force,
and intensifi ed urbanization and unionization. As there is no evidence of
external pressure, Turkey’s ratifi cation of the ILO Convention in July 1967
is likely to have been triggered also by these economic and social changes.
Yet, it should be noted that women’s rights that are related to work,
employment opportunities, and equal pay appeared to be more common in
party programs issued later, in the 1990s and 2000s, after the proliferation
of women’s organizations and a notable increase in feminist activism.
A similar pattern can be observed in relation to the country’s adop-
tion and ratifi cation of UN declarations and conventions. Neither the
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 147
Universal Declaration of Human Rights (1948) nor the two major
human rights covenants adopted by the UN General Assembly in 1966
seem to have made a signifi cant impact on political party discourses on
women’s rights. More focused women’s rights initiatives by the UN,
such as the Convention on the Nationality of Married Women (1957),
the Declaration on the Elimination of Discrimination against Women
(1967), and the CEDAW (1979), or the designation of 1975 as the
International Women’s Year, have not resulted in an immediate change
in the parties’ approaches, either.
Starting with the 1994 program of the CHP, however, the CEDAW
becomes a reference point in several party programs, but interestingly
after the country had become a party to the convention in 1989. These
references and the overall change in favor of a more progressive and
inclusive gender discourse, again, seem to correspond to changes in
domestic politics, particularly to the rise of women’s activism. The
CEDAW and other initiatives by the UN, such as the Declaration on
Violence against Women (1993), and the Beijing World Conferences
on Women (1995), have been embraced by the women’s movement
that took off in Turkey in the late 1980s (Ecevit 2007). This new wave
of women’s movement in Turkey deliberately avoided establishing a
symbiotic relationship with any political party but employed different
strategies, including protest demonstrations and petition campaigns,
as well as sporadic collaboration with the state agencies and political
parties (Ecevit 2007).
Turkey’s candidature to the European Union (EU) is aptly considered
as a catalyst, if not the cause, of several pro- human rights reforms under-
taken in Turkey since the late 1990s. Some interactions that resemble
the boomerang effect (Keck and Sikkink 1998; Risse, Ropp, and Sikkink
1999) could be detected between women rights/human rights orga-
nizations in Turkey, the Turkish state agencies, the EU agencies, and
women’s networks in Europe in this period.17 However, it should be
noted that the EU agencies started to pressure Turkey to improve its
human rights practices relatively recently and did so selectively by focus-
ing on physical integrity, due process, and minority rights (Arat and
Smith, forthcoming). Even after the process of Turkey’s accession to the
EU gained momentum, the EU has not been particularly demanding on
the issue of women’s rights. In fact, the EU has been slow in addressing
gender equality. Until the mid-1990s, European Commission’s direc-
tives on gender equality were limited to the equal pay for equal work
principle incorporated into its founding Rome Treaty of 1957 (Masselot
2007; Martinsen 2007; Pollack and Hafner- Burton 2000), and the EU
approach and implementation of the principle has been criticized for
following the market concerns and a neoliberal economic paradigm
rather than women’s rights (Lewis 2006; Martinsen 2007: 548–49).18
148 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
Gender equality and women’s rights gained prominence in the EU
agenda in relation to the UN’s World Conference on women, held
in Beijing in 1995, and were ultimately articulated in the Amsterdam
Treaty of 1997.
I have been engaged in this research project to reveal the role
of important domestic actors in the development of human rights
norms and their implementation. The preliminary fi ndings indicate
that political parties are responsive to domestic changes and political
pressures more than to the international ones. Further analysis of gov-
ernment discourse and policies and assessment of the extent to which
political party discourses infl uence governments is needed to reveal
the workings of domestic processes. Additional research on these lines,
with attention to both domestic and international factors, would allow
the development of more comprehensive models that explain shifts in
human rights discourse and policies both in developing and developed
countries.
Notes
1. The chapter reports partial fi ndings of a broader research project that
examines the human rights discourse and practices in Turkey since the
1920s and was sponsored by grants from the International Research and
Exchanges Board (IREX), the National Endowment for the Humanities
(NEH), and the United States Institute of Peace (USIP). I am grateful
for their support but would like to note that views, fi ndings, conclusions,
or recommendations expressed here do not necessarily represent those
of the IREX, NEH, or the USIP. I would also like to thank my assistant
Alexandra Friedman, for her diligent work, and my son Hasan- Can for his
critical reading and valuable comments. Earlier versions of this paper were
presented at various professional conferences.
2. See Nicole F. Watt (1999) for an excellent review of what may be called a
process of “reincarnation” for pro- Kurdish parties. On other parties, see
Rubin and Heper, Political Parties in Turkey, 2000.
3. For debates on the institutionalization of political parties in Turkey, see
Özbudun, “Turkey: How Far from Consolidation?” 1996 and Çarkoğlu,
“The Turkish Party System in Transition,” 1998. On political party orga-
nizations in Turkey, see Kabasakal, Türkiye’de Siyasal Parti Örgütlenmesi
1908–1960, 1991.
4. The CHP was previously called Halk Fırkası (HF) and Cumhuriyet Halk
Fırkası (CHF).
5. The translation of all quotations from programs is mine.
6. The notion of equality expressed in these references falls short of meeting
even the principle of “equality before law,” since the laws and their inter-
pretation by the courts and other state authorities were essentially biased
and discriminated against women (Arat 1994).
F r o m O m i s s i o n to R e l u c ta n t R e c o g n i t i o n 149
7. A similar article appears in the party’s 1927 program: “The privacy and
stability of family is the principle that we support in regard to our domes-
tic life.”
8. This approach was recently demonstrated by Prime Minister Erdoğan, the
leader of the ruling party AKP. Addressing women in the city of Uşak on
the 2008 International Women’s Day, he called every young woman to
have three children to maintain a youthful Turkish population that would
stimulate the economy. Radikal, March 8, 2008. http://www.radikal.
com.tr/haber.php?haberno=249531, accessed on March 10, 2008. Despite
protests from women’s groups, he has been repeating the same call.
9. It reads: “On the one hand, as mothers and wives, they assume the care
and service of their children and husbands, and on the other hand, they
shoulder [the responsibility of maintaining] peace, order and manage-
ment of their nest; with diffi culties imposed by their biological and
physiological characteristics, they work in the house, fi elds, factories
and offi ces, in order to reduce the stress of the living conditions on the
family.”
10. MHP was closed down after the military coup of 1980, but reemerged as
Muhafazakar Parti (MP) in 1983, which did not mention women in its
program. In 1985, the MP adopted the name of Milliyetçi Çalışma Partisi
(MÇP, Nationalist Labor Party). It went back to MHP in 1992, when it
became possible to use the old party names again.
11. The party’s policies, both at national and municipal levels, tend to follow
the traditionalist discourse (Arat, “Women’s Rights and Status,” forth-
coming; Ayata and Tütüncü, “Party Politics of the AKP,” 2008).
12. CHP 1994 and 2006; ÖDP 1996 and 2006; MHP 2000; SP 2001; AKP
2002; YTP 2002; DEHAP 2003; and DTP 2006.
13. It should be noted that such terminology is sometimes employed to attack
feminism, as seen in the 1993 MHP program.
14. Programs that address violence against women: CHP 1994 and 2006;
ÖDP 1996 and 2006; DYP 1998; AKP 2002; YTP 2002; DEHAP
2003; and DTP 2006. Programs that problematize sexual harassment of
women: CHP 1994 and 2006; DYP 1998; YTP 2002; DTP 2006; and
ÖDP 2006.
15. It is important to note that HP’s 1983 program alluded to the CEDAW,
by promising that “[i]t will be ensured that our women’s pre- and post-
natal leaves are in compliance with the UN principles” (p. 28).
16. ÖDP 1996 and 2006, DYP 1998; YDP 2002, DEHAP 2003, and DTP
2006.
17. For example, women’s objections to the AKP government’s plan to
include adultery in the new penal code as a public offense was supported
by the EU and European women’s groups, and the women’s position
prevailed in the 2004 legislation.
18. Subscription to the neoliberal economic paradigm has led the EU to
undermine social and economic rights in general and push candidate
states, including Turkey, to adapt policies that result in the deterioration
of some rights, e.g., the right to social security (Arat and Smith, “The EU
and Human Rights in Turkey,” forthcoming).
150 Z e h r a F. K a b a s a k a l A r at
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4
C h a p t e r 8
Minorities and Marginalized
Communities in the Middle
East: The C ase for Inclusion
M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d J o n a t h o n W h o o l e y
To better understand the history and the heritage of ethnic and
sectarian divides in the Middle East, it is essential to grasp the unity
and diversity of Islam, as well as the region’s cultural mosaic. The issue
of sectarian and ethnic divides lies at the heart of marginalized communi-
ties. Virtually all Middle Eastern countries have minority groups. Some
are religious minorities; others are ethnic- linguistic minorities; and still
others are a combination of both. Some minorities in the Middle East
have aspired for a separate national home (the Kurds in Iran, Iraq, Syria,
and Turkey), while others are content with grants of equal rights within a
country (the Copts in Egypt, the Druze in Lebanon). That some minori-
ties have been overrepresented in power hierarchies helps explain their
support for the maintenance of the status quo (the Sunnis in Iraq prior
to the 2003 U.S. invasion).1 Although broadly speaking all groups are
minorities no matter who rules, in some countries minorities rule, such
as the Maronites in Lebanon and the Alewites in Syria.
The issue of possible linkage between human rights situation of reli-
gious minorities in the Middle East and the political and legal contexts
merits particular attention. Historically, the status of the “People of
the Book” has been secured by contractual obligations to protect non-
Muslims. This legal obligation has guaranteed their life, body, property,
freedom of movement, and religious practice. Protection had been
extended against taxes of various kinds, including a head tax ( jizya) and
154 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
a property tax (kharaj). The traditional Shari’a notions of the minorities,
critics note, should evolve into a coherent and humane principle of
citizenship in the “territorial state.” To equate citizenship solely with
nationality at the expense of other forms of membership, especially ethnic
or religious minorities, they argue, is fundamentally wrong.2
This chapter’s core argument is that the minority issues in the
Middle East are more heavily infl uenced by the political, legal, eco-
nomic, social, and cultural circumstances than religious differences.
In the sections that follow, we systematically examine such minorities
as the Kurdish leaders, groups, and parties in Turkey, as well as the
Druze population of Lebanon, and the Copts in Egypt. In virtually
all cases—including the Copts in Egypt who are an economically bet-
ter off, educated, and infl uential religious minority—participation in
the political process may create a sustainable platform for advancing the
causes of those minorities.
Minorities in Perspective
In the Middle East and North Africa (see table 8.1), 31 politically active
minorities are found. Since the postwar period, they have engaged in con-
siderable communal protest and rebellion. In the postwar period evidence
in some Islamic states points to numerous incidents of mistreatment of
minority groups, such as Ahmediyas (Pakistan), Baha’is (Iran and Tunisia),
Berbers (Algeria and Libya), Coptic Christians (Egypt and Sudan), Jews
(Syria), and Jews and Christians (Yemen). Some experts have found that
minority groups in the Middle East are subject to the most severe politi-
cal discrimination of any region in the world and are second only to Latin
America in the severity of economic discrimination.3
Most written constitutions of Muslim states now confi rm the principle
of equality of all citizens irrespective of religion, sex, and race.4 Today, in
some countries (Lebanon, Jordan, or the Islamic Republic of Iran) non-
Muslim and other minority groups are guaranteed a fi xed share of seats
in representative political bodies.5 Some observers have emphasized the
possibilities of a struggle for human rights from within a Muslim frame-
work.6 Others have attempted to decouple human rights and religion,
arguing that Islamism, as a religious nationalist ideology, has had a mark-
edly negative effect on human rights throughout the Muslim world.7
They argue against privileging Islam such that human rights must be
warranted in Islamic terms in order to be seen as relevant. Islam, Anthony
Chase insists, “is neither responsible for rights violations nor the core
basis for advancing rights.”8 In the sections that follow, we shall study the
cases of the Copts in Egypt, Shiites and Druze in Lebanon, and Kurdish
minorities in Turkey.
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 155
Table 8.1 Selected minority groups
Country Group Group Type
Algeria Berbers Indigenous
Bahrain Shiites religious sect
Cyprus Turkish Cypriots Ethnonationalist
Egypt Copts religious sect
Iran Arabs national minority
Iran Azerbaijanis national minority
Iran Baha’is religious sect
Iran Bakhtiari Indigenous
Iran Baluchis Indigenous
Iran Christians religious sect
Iran Kurds Ethnonationalist
Iran Turkmen national minority
Iraq Kurds Ethnonationalist
Iraq Shiites religious sect
Iraq Sunnis communal contender
Israel Arabs Ethnoclass
Israel Palestinians Ethnonationalist
Jordan Palestinians Ethnonationalist
Lebanon Druze communal contender
Lebanon Maronite Christians communal contender
Lebanon Palestinians Ethnonationalist
Lebanon Shiites communal contender
Lebanon Sunnis communal contender
Morocco Berbers Indigenous
Morocco Saharawis Ethnonationalist
Saudi Arabia Shiites religious sect
Syria Alawi communal contender
Syria Kurds Ethnonationalist
Turkey Kurds Ethnonationalist
Source: Minorities at Risk Project, available at http://www.cidcm.umd.edu/mar/assessments.
asp?regionId�5. Last visited on December 3, 2008.
The Copts in Egypt
Known as the Christians of Egypt or direct descendants of the original
inhabitants of the country in the Hellenistic and Roman periods, the
Copts were a majority in Egypt from the fourth to the seventh centuries.
Although estimates vary widely, Copts represent approximately 8 percent
of the Egyptian population (6.5 million), and some say 95 percent of
156 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
them are Christians.9 Historically, Copts have not constituted a cohesive
political group, even as they have been well integrated into the fabric
of the country’s society.10 Coptic is the ancient language of Christian
Egypt and the Copts are an Arabic- speaking minority who only retain the
Coptic language in their liturgies.11
The advent of the Crusades led to a deterioration of the position of
the Copts, as the Crusaders scorned them as heretics, forbidding them
from making their traditional pilgrimages to Jerusalem.12 The Copts
suffered persecution in Egypt after Chalcedon (Orthodoxy in the fi fth
and sixth centuries) by Christians—under Byzantine control—until the
Islamic- Arab conquest of Egypt (640–642 CE). After that, they found
themselves coexisting with their Muslim rulers, sometimes under an
uneasy but peaceful armistice, and at others under attack.13 The Islamic
conquerors were interested in the civil and fi nancial, but not religious
affairs of the Copts.14 When Alexandria was conquered by the Arabs in
641, the indigenous patriarch Benjamin, who was treated sympatheti-
cally by Muslims, emerged from hiding. He returned triumphantly from
Upper Egypt and was greeted everywhere by the people. Amr ibn al- As
(died 661 CE), the renowned Arab conqueror of Egypt, was impressed
with him and paid his respects to him in Alexandria. Benjamin functioned
as a representative of the church and of the people. The church buildings
that had belonged to the Melchites (the Byzantine Christians), were
turned over to the Copts.15
The Copts’ dhimmi status was abrogated by Said Pasha (1822–1863)
in 1856. Said’s reign was a liberal one, involving many reforms for
landownership, taxation, and the abolishment of the slave trade. Copts
were exempted from paying the jizya, the head tax paid by non- Muslims
in Egypt from the Muslim conquests until 1855.16 In the twentieth
century, especially during the 1940s and 1950s, the proportion of Copts
in offi cial posts exceeded their proportion of the population. Copts were
among Egypt’s large landowners, and many were leading members of
the Wafd—Egypt’s most popular political party before a military coup in
1952 toppled the monarchy. Copts have also fi gured prominently in the
evolution of Egyptian and Arab arts, theater, and scholarship.17
In the 2011 revolt against then president Hosni Mubarak, many
Copts took an active role in pro- democracy demonstrations, contributing
to the downfall of Mubarak’s regime. In rare displays of public defi ance
and unity, Copts and Muslims proclaimed their grievances, calling at once
for change and freedom from fear and poverty. They waved signs of cross
and crescent in Tahrir Square as responsible stakeholders and staunch
defenders of the revolution. Although Islamic political parties and
movements have denounced violence against Christians, many attacks
against Copts have occurred since Hosni Mubarak’s ouster. On May 8,
2011, Virgin Mary Church, in the impoverished Cairo neighborhood of
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 157
Imbaba, near the Tahrir Square, was a scene of devastation. Copts have
been angered by the ruling military council’s lenient response to this and
other similar incidents of violence against them. While calling for protec-
tion from sectarian violence, many Copts fear that the army’s cooperation
with the Muslim Brotherhood—now and in the future—may result in
further exclusionary politics, undermining the interests and the status of
this minority religious group.18
Integration, Confrontation, and Retraction
Caught between the atmosphere of violence and that of integration,
the Coptic Church leadership has steadily rejected a confrontational
approach, arguing that while Christians have gone through hard times,
they had faced harder times in the past. Father Aghaton, secretary to
the Supreme religious leader of Egypt’s Copts, Pope Shenouda III, has
said: “We have gone through horrendous periods of oppression but
here we are, strong, well- educated and present. The facts are that all the
Copts can do is hunker down in bad times and wait until the oppression
lifts.”19 During Jamal Abdul Nasser’s tenure (1952–1970), a few Copts
were nominated to the parliament, often in consultation with the Coptic
patriarch, so as to maintain a formal Coptic representation in the political
structure. The upshot was the gradual erosion of the infl uence of the
Copts in political life and the surge in the role of religious institutions and
church hierarchy.20 The government’s policy of minimizing this tension,
as one expert noted, was no mean task, as it became increasingly harder
to appease the Christians without antagonizing the Islamists.21
During the 1970s, Anwar al-Sadat’s policies fostered Islamization
programs in an attempt to undermine secular leftist opposition. The
conversion from Islam to Christianity became illegal under Egypt’s penal
code when in 1977 the “law of apostasy” was announced. Reacting to
this law, thousands of the Copts and church authorities participated in a
voluntary “fast of protest.”22 This and similar policies led to the intensi-
fi cation of restrictions on the social and political activities of the Copts.
Muslim militants plundered and burned Coptic shops and churches.
Despite the guarantee of religious equality before the law contained in
Article 40 of the Egyptian constitution, Copts continue to suffer discrim-
ination, especially regarding the appointment to such key governmental
positions as provincial governors, city managers, police commissioners,
university presidents, and directors of educational districts.
Similarly, the Egyptian Family Status Law of 1955 (still in effect),
which is considered part of the “civil” code of law, continues to have
religious elements, referring to the Shari’a as a basis for Muslims and
to the corresponding religious principles or regulations for non- Muslim
communities. Courts often ignore the law and pass judgments according
158 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
to Shari’a, which they regard as the basis of all legislation. This represents
numerous problems for the Copts, as the Coptic community fi nds itself
forced to submit to Islamic Shari’a regulations.23
It should be noted, however, that Copts in Egypt are often so com-
pletely integrated into Egyptian society that their religious identity has
faded away into the national one. The same may be said of their Muslim
compatriots.24 President Hosni Mubarak declared January 7— Coptic
Christmas—a national holiday. In some respects, the Copts have advanced
within Egyptian society and in other spheres of life are subject to restric-
tions. They are economically advantaged and have engaged in commerce,
medicine, law, and accountancy. They tend to be better educated than
Muslims and are well represented in the bureaucracy—albeit not in the
upper levels of government and the military.25 Rarely are any Copts
appointed to posts in the judicial system, police ranks, or army. Copts are
underrepresented in the police, security forces, armed forces, and much
of the civil service.26 The People’s Assembly or (Majlis al-Sha’b) has 454
seats, of which 444 are elected by popular vote and 10 are appointed by
the president. Parliament deputies serve fi ve- year terms. Copts are not
proportionally represented in the People’s Assembly; in 2005, only 2 out
of 444 were Copts.27
Since the 1970s, the growth of Islamist politics and the fl ow of labor-
ers to and from the conservative Arab countries of the Persian Gulf,
where they have absorbed that region’s conservative form of Islam, have
enhanced the infl uence of orthodox Islam and made life more diffi cult
for Christians. Violence between Muslims and Christians breaks out
sporadically. Following the 2005 parliamentary elections, Abd al- Nur,
the Wafdist politician who lost his parliamentary seat in those elections,
noted: “It is a fact that we are marginalized. We have to try to understand
why it is that way. Copts are less and less active not only on the political
scene, but they have also retracted from a lot of public activities.”28 Like-
wise, Yusuf Sidhum, a secular- minded Copt who edits Watani, Egypt’s
only mainstream Coptic newspaper that is not an offi cial church publica-
tion, argues that “Christians are withdrawing into churches and mixing
less with Muslims.”29
Several recent events have shown the intensity of Muslim- Christian
relations in Egypt. In 2006, the Alexandria violence, which was caused by
a Muslim entering the church of Mar Girgis (Saint George) and stabbing
three parishioners who had gathered for a service and attacking worship-
pers at two other churches, led to three days of violence and spurred a
lasting debate over the state of relations between Muslims and minor-
ity Coptic Christians in Egypt.30 In the most dramatic confrontation,
settled Arab Bedouins on May 31, 2008, attacked monks who had been
reclaiming the 1,700- year- old monastery of Abu Fana from the desert in
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 159
southern Egypt.31 The Islamist bombing of a Coptic Christian church
in Alexandria on January 1, 2011, sparked widespread outrage in Cairo.
Copts accused the Egyptian government of refusing to acknowledge
religious motivations as a key factor behind such attacks, often blaming
such violent acts on other mundane factors. The growing Islamization
of society, coupled with this perceived discrimination against Copts, has
propelled many Copts to seek refuge in the church. The fault lines in
church- government ties are likely to deepen in years to come—an omi-
nous prospect for a regime that is in the process of preparing the ground
for the arrival of a new leader on the political scene.32
Additionally, some Copts believe that they are treated as second- class
citizens in Egypt, as they require governmental approval, for instance,
for the construction of any church. Copts point out that state secu-
rity services have little interest in safeguarding Christians.33 It is also
worth noting that Copts are underrepresented in both the teaching and
research faculties at universities. There are few or no Copts in the highest-
level university administrative positions.34 Despite antidiscrimination
laws, Copts are also subject to offi cial and unoffi cial religious discrimi-
nation. This situation has provided an incentive for conversion. Some
Copts, however, have done well. Under the British rule, one Copt—the
original Boutros-Ghali—attained the position of premiership in 1908.
But he was later denounced as too pro- British and was assassinated in
1910. The Boutros- Ghali family has produced the former Acting Foreign
Minister and later United Nations Secretary General Boutros Boutros-
Ghali, as well as the present minister of the Economy and Foreign Trade,
Dr. Youssef Boutros- Ghali. The other Coptic member of the Cabinet
was the Minister of State for Environmental Affairs, Dr. Nadia Makram
‘Ebeid.35
The government strictly enforces an 1856 law that renders it illegal to
build or repair a church without presidential approval. In January 1998,
President Hosni Mubarak delegated authority to provincial governors
to approve such permits. Since then, it has become much easier to get
permission for building and renovating churches. There is no Coptic
political party or movement, however.36 Coptic activists have articulated
several demands in recent years. Some of their demands include more
representation in the political system; greater equality in promotions
in academia, the public sector, and the state bureaucracy—especially
the police and the military; removal of religious identifi cation from
government- issued documents where religion is irrelevant; and easier
licensing procedures for church construction.37 In the aftermath of 2011
revolution, Copts are likely to add yet another demand to this list: to
participate equally alongside their Muslim compatriots in decisions on
how to govern society.
160 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
The Druze in Lebanon: Religious
Characteristics and Demographics
Powerful culturally and religiously homogenous, and militarily renowned,
the Druze of Lebanon have made for themselves an immense impact for
such a small, relatively isolated, religious/ethnic minority. While much
of the political attention and acrimony is normally focused upon the
oft- publicized Sunni- Shia- Maronite cycle of grievance and violence, the
Druze population keeps mainly to its own interests in support of its own
localities. Their population numbers only about 350,000 and is seques-
tered mainly in the Shouf, Metn, Aley, and Mount Lebanon regions.
While their religious and political impact is perhaps felt most sharply
within the Lebanese territories, and will be the distinctive focus of this
analysis, it is worth noting that the Druze also have signifi cant popula-
tions in Israel (100,000, concentrated in the Galilee and Golan) and Syria
(500,000, concentrated in the Jabal Druze mountains).38
The Religious Nature of the Druze
While Druzism may take some of its fl avor (secrecy, isolation, belief in
vanished imams as divine) from Shiite religious practices, its own pursuits
are funda mentally different.39 First and foremost there is no proselytization
among the Druze. Much like the Yazidis and Allawis, the Druze believe that
the number of their souls was fi xed at Creation. Accordingly, when a Druze
dies, the individual soul is passed into another Druze body (tansukh in Arabic).
By this logic with the closing of the da’wa, or spreading of the faith, in 1043,
there has been no new Druze created outside of rebirth or metempsychosis
since.40 The most important religious aspect of their movement results from
the unique political nature of the Druze in Lebanon, and most specifi cally the
relationship of the Druze population to their non- Druze peers.
In Druze scripture a strict religious hierarchical order is observed
regarding relations with outsiders. First, as stated above, strict secrecy is
required for all non- Druze; this holds both for their religious tenets and
their cultural practices. Second, contemporary Druze tradition maintains
that “the Shi’a deserve fi fty curses, the Sunnis forty, the Christians thirty
and the Jews twenty.”41 This intense acrimony for all outsiders more than
likely stems from their relatively small numbers, intense cultural homo-
geneity, and persecution in their exodus from Egypt under the Fatimid
Empire.42 The Druze preference for Jews, as the least cursed, may help to
describe the generally positive relations that to this day the Druze of the
Galilee and Golan share with the modern Israeli government, often pro-
viding regional security, and fi ghting in the Israeli Defense Force (IDF).43
It is worth noting that their political character, as described below, is
always fl uid and supportive of those in position of power.
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 161
The Political Characteristics of the Druze: The Civil War
(1975–1976), the March 14 Coalition, and Beyond
An examination of Lebanon’s civil war years does much to defi ne the
effective and powerful political characteristics of the Druze.44 Through
the fall of 1975 to early winter 1976, the Progressive Socialist Party
(PSP) cut a deal with the Lebanese National Movement (LNM) and the
Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO). All the while Kamal Jumblatt
was also battling to gain the attention and support of foreign backers,
namely, Syria. While Hafez al- Assad and Kamal Jumblatt had no great
affection for each other, a political marriage of their ideals would be
highly fortuitous for the relatively small PSP- LNM- PLO faction. With
Syrian backing and Pierre Gemayel’s right- wing Keta’eb Christian coali-
tion temporarily on the run, the Druze and their Muslim allies seemed to
be on the verge of a genuine political takeover of Lebanon.45
While brokering deals with Syria, the LNM, and the PLO to ensure a
possible reversal of 30 years of inequitable treatment, Kamal Jumblatt and
his PSP party somehow lost sight of the prize, when on March 31, 1976,
the Syrians intervened in Lebanon on behalf of the Maronite Christian
community. This politically sagacious move by Assad, seen by some as
a way to guarantee a Syrian presence in Lebanon without requiring an
Israeli one, cemented a Syrian presence in Lebanon until April of 2005.
These casualties of politics and war, as well as the personal loss of Kamal
Jumblatt on March 16, 1977, were a deep and lasting setback for the
Druze community.
With the death of Kamal, continuous bloodshed and sectarian violence
through 1991, one might wonder at the political plight of a small exog-
enous group like the Druze. Their role in Lebanese politics is as it always
was. Jumblatt broadly supported a reduced role of confessional politics,
still powerful, tenacious, and adaptive despite its small size and relative
disconnectedness from either Christian or Muslim social, cultural, or
religious practice. The actions in and around the death of Prime Minister
Rafi k Hariri and its aftermath best characterize the current political
climate of Lebanon and the extant abilities of the Druze to achieve what
they have always accomplished: to fi ght marginalization and survive.
Recent Lebanese politics is instructive on this chord as well.
On February 14, 2005, an explosive equivalent to 1,000 kg of TNT
exploded underneath the vehicle carrying Prime Minister Rafi k Hariri
as he passed the St. George Hotel in downtown Beirut.46 This violent
death of a beloved public fi gure, philanthropist, and what many would
describe as the benefactor of modern Lebanon was a catalyst that
drove the unlikeliest of former enemies to make both common causes
in opposition, and move for reforms in modern politics. Two rallies
divided sharply the Lebanese political makeup; the fi rst on March 8,
162 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
2005, drew thousands, was composed primarily of Hassan Nasrallah’s
Hizbullah organization, and broadly supportive of Syria; and a second
denounced Syria as being a likely sponsor for the attack. Both factions,
and indeed both rallies, were an open expression of bewilderment,
anger, and anguish over the death of Hariri. However, the March 8 and
the March 14 alliances identifi ed the new political fault lines in Lebanese
politics until recently.
The most recent state of Druze affairs comes in the context of the
Arab Spring uprisings, the silence of the Lebanese in the midst of region-
wide protests; the events of this past January represent the recent tectonic
shift of Druze attentions away from its traditional allies in Saad Harriri’s
political establishment. The Druze leadership negotiated an entente
toward its long supposed enemies in Syria and its position to its domestic
rival the Shi’a faction Hezbollah. As has been recently reported Walid
Jumblatt engaged in recent talks with the now maligned Syrian president
Bashar Al-Assad.47 It can be argued that this owes to the political acro-
batics of the Druze in that they have pulled a 180 degree shift in their
political support. Gone are the condemnations of violence and oppres-
sion that led to the Syrian withdrawal in 2005, and the manifest rejection
of the Hariri assassination as a reprehensible act of political bloodshed,
quite to the contrary in their place is the overt support of the Druze
leadership toward the latest signifi cant power grab; for Jumblatt it is time
to “turn the page.”48
On January 12, 2011, Hezbollah successfully maneuvered a walkout
on the Lebanese majles displacing the governing March 14 coalition and
establishing Najib Mikati, a Hezbollah supporter, on January 24, as the
new prime minister.49 What the Druze gained by this action, a place of
power and a defi ning role in the new political arrangements, owes to
nothing less than a complete reversal of their potentially despondent
political fortunes; by backing Hizbullah over their former allies they have
kept for themselves at least a portion of power amid a changing land-
scape. What this demonstrates to the observer is the pragmatic, kinetic,
and opportunistic nature of Druze political life, they will achieve what
they can, when they can, and exploit any opportunity to retain relevancy
and relative power within their environment.
The Kurds in Turkey
The Kurds are an Indo- European people who are estimated to be 25–30
million and live in a mountainous area straddling the borders of Iraq, Iran,
Syria, and Turkey. They are a large and distinct ethnic minority who are
mainly Sunni Muslim tribal people with their own language and customs.
There are as many as 800 separate Kurdish tribes in Kurdistan. Kurdish
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 163
history has been one of failed attempts at achieving independence. In the
twentieth century alone, Kurdish rebellions in Turkey in 1925, 1930,
1937, and 1984 only resulted in additional defeats, death, and destruc-
tion.50 Resistance against Iraq during the Iran- Iraq War (1980–1988)
brought about the wrath of Saddam Hussein who, in 1988, launched
poison gas attacks on Kurdish village of Halabje, causing the death of
several thousand people. In the 1991 Persian Gulf War, Iraq’s Kurds
revolted against Saddam Hussein but were crushed by the Iraqi army,
forcing many of hundreds of thousands of them to fl ee to Turkey.51
Turkey’s 15 million Kurds are spread throughout the country, espe-
cially on the outskirts of major cities such as Istanbul. Mustafa Kemal,
also known as Atatürk, who laid the foundation for the modern and
secular Turkey, enacted a constitution in 1923 that denied the existence
of distinct cultural and ethnic groups in Turkey. The rise of Kurdish
nationalism since 1970 has resulted largely from the economic depriva-
tion and marginalization of the southeastern region. In 1984, the confl ict
between the Kurdish desire to form cultural and political autonomy and
the Turkish state efforts to prevent that autonomy reached a new level
of intensity with the launching of a widespread Kurdish insurrection that
was met by Turkish military repression. This insurrection was organized
by a militant organization within the Kurdish nationalist movement,
the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK). The PKK’s main objective was to
achieve the recognition of Kurdish political and cultural autonomy within
the framework and boundaries of the Turkish state.52
To achieve its goals, the PKK resorted to terrorist operations as a
legitimate tactic, engaging in a campaign of assassination and destruction
that rendered normal life in the Kurdish provinces impossible. Through-
out the 1980s and 1990s, successive Turkish governments placed most
of the Kurdish regions under a state of emergency and gave the military a
free hand to undertake whatever policies and measures it takes to subdue
the local insurgency. By the late 1990s, according to one study, the armed
forces had destroyed more than 2,300 Kurdish villages and more than
2 million Kurds had fl ed or been forcibly relocated.53
Until the mid-1990s, the existence of Kurdish people and identity was
offi cially denied and the people of the southeastern Turkey were called
“mountain Turks.”54 Since the early 1990s, Turkish people and offi cials
had begun to recognize the cultural rights of the Kurds, legalizing the
use of the Kurdish language in the process.55 These changes in law and
mainstream views on the Kurdish issue have pointed to a desecuritiza-
tion process transpiring in Turkey, a process that would not have been
possible without the external legitimization provided by the European
Union.56 In the meantime, Kurdish nationalism has grown in strength,
even as it has been legally regarded as separatism and thus grounds for
imprisonment.
164 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
The Turkish government has consistently thwarted attempts by the
Kurds to organize politically. Its counterinsurgency campaign against
the outlawed PKK in most of Kurdish southeastern Turkey has resulted
in many deaths since it began in the early 1980s. In the aftermath of
the 1991 Gulf War, there have been numerous instances of forced repa-
triation of Kurdish refugees to Iraq, caused in many instances by threats
from Turkish authorities and by the brutal conditions of imprisonment.
The PKK has also resorted to violent tactics in confronting the Turkish
military. More recently, the leaders of the pro- Kurdish People’s Democ-
racy Party were sentenced to several years’ prison terms for allegedly
having ties with the outlawed PKK guerillas. The state prosecutors’
evidence consisted largely of press releases found in the People’s Demo-
cratic Party offi ces from a news agency close to the PKK.
Since the U.S. invasion of Iraq, the tensions between Turkey and the
Kurds in northern Iraq have intensifi ed. Ankara fears that as Iraq’s Kurds
push for their autonomy in Iraq, their own agitated Kurdish population
will likely drive toward independence and act as a magnet for Kurdish
nationalists in Turkey. In response, Turkey’s parliament has repeatedly
extended the military’s year- old mandate to launch cross border strikes
against the PKK in northern Iraq. Immediately after the October 3,
2007, attack in which 17 Turkish soldiers were killed, the Kurdistan
Regional Government (KRG), the local body that administers northern
Iraq, condemned its fellow Kurds in the PKK. Massoud Barzani, the head
of the Kurdish government insisted that such attacks be stopped.57
In recent decades, some progress has been made. Consider, for
example, the increase in the literacy rate. The 1992 literacy rate in Mardin
Province (48 percent) was considerably lower than the national standard
(77 percent).58 By 2007, the literacy rate in the Mardin Province had
increased to 71 percent compared to the nation’s 87.4 percent.59 Starting
in 2005, Turkey’s prime minister Recep Tayyib Erdogan encouraged sev-
eral steps to ease bans on Kurdish broadcasting and educational systems.
As a result, vast sums of money were poured into Kurdish regions to
subsidize education for the poor, especially for girls. These measures,
some observers noted, helped the Justice and Development Party (AKP)
to defeat the pro- Kurdish Democratic Society Party (DTP) in much
of the southeastern Turkey in the July 2007 elections.60 The results of
these elections, many experts concur, persuaded Turkish policymakers
that the challenge of Kurdish nationalist movements in Turkey could be
effectively met by economic measures.61 As Shiite and Sunni opposition
to Kurdish policies on the share of oil and the fi nal status of Kirkuk has
increased, and as the U.S. military has found it imperative to work with
both Shiites and Arab Sunnis in an attempt to assure the success of the
so- called surge strategy, the idea of an independent Kurdistan has become
increasingly discredited.62
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 165
Views differ over how the Kurdish issue can be resolved. Some experts
have noted that an integrationist approach toward both the Iraqi and
Turkey’s Kurds has helped pave the way for the solution of the Kurdish
question.63 Others have insisted that both the AKP and the Turkish
Armed Forces (TAF) had accepted the strategy of managing the chal-
lenge of the Kurdish nationalism in Turkey by simply crushing the PKK
in Iraq.64 Still others have argued that the Kurdish moderates’ demand
for freedom to speak and learn their mother tongue as well as to establish
Kurdish- oriented political parties and foundations may not necessarily
confl ict with Turkey’s national interests.65
Conclusion
The study of minorities in the Middle East is directly linked to the root
causes of marginalization. In cases of the Copts in Egypt and the Kurds
in Turkey, it appears an integrationist approach toward socioeconomic
and cultural inclusion and recognition of the rights of minorities has
proven a positive step toward the reasonable resolution of the problems.
Caught between the atmosphere of violence and integration, the
Egyptian Christian Copts have in recent years, navigated between apathy
and engagement. But after the 2011 Revolution, many Copts seek new
possibilities and opportunities. All Egyptians have the potential to build
a civil society and construct a new constitution that accords the full citi-
zenship rights to its myriad sects and groups, including Christians. Two
key questions persist: What role will the Copts play in the new Egyptian
political system and whether they will be invited to play a positive role in
shaping the country’s new constitution and bright future.
In Lebanon, the old fault lines that have made the tensions among
Shiites, Sunnis, the Druze, and the Maronite Christians so intractable
show signs of submerging, perhaps precisely because of the potential
transformation of Hizbullah from a military to a political force. In
Turkey, the Kurds’ participation in the political process is likely to create
a sustainable base for improving the living conditions of such a marginal-
ized community.
Finally, it should be noted that the framing of these minority issues in
terms of threats to national security and political stability—not in terms
of cultural and political inclusion—has prolonged the plight of these
groups at both local and regional levels. Desecuritization of the minority
threats, as well as appropriate external pressure (the EU in the case of
Turkey), have enabled national policymakers to pursue reformist agenda,
while engaging the minority groups and their legitimate demands. The
main lesson to draw is that in virtually all societies it is vitally important
to end marginalization if a peaceful coexistence among people of differ-
ent ethnic, religious, sectarian, and racial backgrounds is to be achieved.
166 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
The key to shoring up minorities’ desire to remain loyal to a nation- state
in which they live—rather than leaning toward building up new forms of
political community—is to frontally address the issue of marginality.
Notes
1. David S. Sorenson, An introduction to the Middle East: History,
Religion, Political Economy, Politics, Boulder, CO: Westview Press,
2008, p. 111.
2. Abdullahi Ahmed An-Na’im, Islam and the Secular State: Negotiating
the Future of Shari’a, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2008,
pp. 32–33.
3. Ted Robert Gurr, Minorities at Risk: A Global View of Ethnopolitical
Confl icts. Washington, D.C.: United States Institute of Peace Press, 1993,
p. 67.
4. Gudrun Kramer, “Minorities in Muslim Societies,” in The Oxford Encyclo-
pedia of the Modern Islamic World, Vol. 3, ed. John L. Esposito. New York:
Oxford University Press, 1995, pp. 108–111; see pp. 108–110.
5. Ibid., p. 110.
6. Nazila Ghanea, “Human Rights of Religious Minorities and Of Women in
the Middle East,” Human Rights Quarterly, Vol. 26, 2004, pp. 705–729;
see pp. 722.
7. Anthony Chase and Amr Hamzawy, ed., Human Rights in the Arab
World: Independent Voices. Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania, 2006,
p. 24.
8. Ibid., p. 21.
9. Donald Spanel, “Copts,” in Encyclopedia of the Modern Middle East and
North Africa, Vol. 1, 2nd ed., ed. Philip Mattar, New York: Thompson/
Gale, 2004, pp. 638–642; see 639.
10. Monte Palmer, Comparative Politics: Political Economy, Political Culture,
and Political Independence, Belmont, CA: Thomson Higher Education,
2006, p. 502.
11. John H. Watson, Among the Copts, Portland, OR: Sussex Academic Press,
2000, p. 9.
12. Marlis J. Saleh, “Copts,” in Medieval Islamic Civilization: An Encyclopedia,
Vol. 1, ed. Josef W. Meri, New York: Routledge, 2006, pp. 173–175;
see p. 175.
13. David S. Soreson, Introduction to the Middle East, p. 69.
14. Antonie Wessels, Arab and Christian? Christians in the Middle East.
Kampen, the Netherlands: Pharos, 1995, pp. 130–131.
15. Ibid., p. 131.
16. Issandr El Amrani, “The Emergence of a ‘Coptic Question’ in Egypt,”
Middle East Report Online, April 28, 2006, available at http://www.
merip.org/mero/mro042806.html. Last visited on October 13, 2008.
17. Youssef M. Ibrahim, “Muslims Fury Falls on Egypt’s Christians,” the
New York Times, March 15, 1993, available at http://query.nytimes.
com/gst/fullpage.htm? Last visited on October 14, 2008.
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 167
18. Yasmine El Rashidi, “Egypt: The Victorious Islamists,” The New York
Review of Books, Vol. 58, No. 12, July 14, 2011, pp. 23–24.
19. Ibid.
20. Danald Spanel, “Copts,” p. 641.
21. Ami Ayalon, “Egypt’s Coptic Pandora’s Box,” in Minorities and the
State in the Arab World, ed. Ofra Bengio and Gabriel Ben- Dor, Boulder,
CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1999, pp. 53–71; see p. 68.
22. Antonie Wessels, Arab and Christian?, p. 140.
23. Adel Guindy, “Family Status Issues Among Egypt’s Copts: A Brief Over-
view,” The Middle East Review of International Affairs, Vol. 11, No. 3,
September 2007, available at http://media.idc.ac.il/journal/2007/
issue3/iv11no3aa.html. Last visited on October 13, 2008.
24. John H. Watson, Among the Copts, p. 11.
25. Jonathan Fox, “The Copts in Egypt: A Christian Minority in an Islamic
Society,” in Peoples Versus States: Minorities at Risk in the New Century,
ed. Ted Robert Gurr, Washington, D.C.: U.S. Institute of Peace, 2000,
pp. 138–142; see p. 139.
26. Issandr El Amrani, “The Emergence of a ‘Coptic Question’ in Egypt,”
Middle East Report Online, April 28, 2006, available at http://www.
merip.org/mero/mro042806.html. Last visited on October 13, 2008.
27. Donald Spanel, “Copts,” p. 642.
28. Issandr El Amrani, “The Emergence of a ‘Coptic Question’ in Egypt,”
Middle East Report Online, April 28, 2006, available at http://
www.merip.org/mero/mro042806.html. Last visited on October 13,
2008.
29. Ibid.
30. Ibid.
31. Ellen Knickmeyer, “Egypt’s Coptic Christians Choose Isolation,” the
Washington Post, July 7, 2008, p. A08; also available at http://
www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/07/06/
AR2008070602283_2.html. Last visited on September 20, 2008.
32. Kristen Chick, “Egypt’s Troubled Christians,” The Christian Science
Monitor, January 17, 2011, pp. 8–9.
33. Ibid.
34. Jonathan Fox, “The Copts in Egypt,” p. 139.
35. “Egypt’s Copts after Kosheh: Part I, a Sensitive Coexistence,” The
Estimate: Political and Security Intelligence Analysis of the Islamic World
and Its Neighbors, Vol. 12, No. 2, January 2000; available at http://www.
theestimate.com/public/01282000a.html. Last visited on September 22,
2008.
36. Jonathan Fox, “The Copts in Egypt,” pp. 140–141.
37. Khairi Abaza and Mark Nakhla, “The Copts and Their Political Impli-
cations in Egypt,” October 25, 2005, Policy Watch/PeaceWatch, The
Washington Institute for Near East Policy, available at http://www.
washingtoninstitute.org/templateC05.php?CID=2386. Last visited on
September 22, 2008.
38. Nissam Dana, The Druze in the Middle East: Their Faith, Leadership, and
Status, London: Sussex Academic Press, 2003, p. 99.
168 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d Jo n at h o n W h o o l e y
39. Robert Brenton Bretts, The Druze, New York: Yale University Press,
1988, p. 6.
40. Ralph Crow, “Religious Sectarianism in Lebanese Politics,” The Journal of
Politics, Vol. 24, No. 3, August 1962, pp. 489–520.
41. Arthur John Arberry, Religion in the Middle East: Three Religions Concord
and Confl ict, Vol. 2. Cambridge, MA: Cambridge University Press,
1st ed., 2008, p. 338.
42. Robert Brenton Bretts, The Druze, New York: Yale University Press,
1988, p. 21.
43. Ruth K. Westheimer and Gil Sedan, The Olive and the Tree: The Secret
Strength of the Druzes. New York: Lantern Books, 2007, p. 45.
44. David C. Gordon, The Republic of Lebanon: Nation in Jeopardy. Boulder,
CO: Westview Press, 1983, p. 85.
45. Theodor Hanf, Coexistence in Wartime Lebanon: Decline of a State and
Rise of a Nation. London: I. B. Tauris, 1993, pp. 217–221.
46. Susan Sachs, “Rafi k Hariri, Ex- Premier of Lebanon, Dies at 60,” New York
Times, February 15, 2005. Accessed through the Internet: http://www.
nytimes.com/2005/02/15/international/middleeast/15hariri.html,
March 27, 2011.
47. “ Al- Assad Receives Ex- Foe Jumblatt: Lebanese Druze Leader Holds Talks
with Bashar al- Assad Following Five- Year Rift,” Al Jazeera.com, March
14, 2011. Accessed through the Internet: http://english.aljazeera.net/
news/middleeast/2010/03/2010331151628717408.html, March 27,
2011.
48. “Jumblatt Apologises to al- Assad Lebanese MP Regrets Past Criticism
of Syrian President and Seeks New Beginning.” Al Jazeera.com, March
14, 2011. Accessed through the Internet: http://english.aljazeera.net/
news/middleeast/2010/03/2010314111023700949.html; March 27,
2011.
49. Mariam Karouny, “ Hezbollah- Backed Mikati Set to Lead Lebanon
Government,” Reuters.com, January 24, 2011. Accessed through the
Internet: http://www.reuters.com/article/2011/01/24/ us- lebanon-
government-idUSTRE70N33820110124, March 27, 2011.
50. Richard W. Mansbach and Kristen L. Rafferty, Introduction to Global
Politics, New York: Routledge, 2008, p. 717.
51. Ibid., p. 718.
52. William L. Cleveland, A History of the Middle East, 3rd ed., Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 2004, p. 525.
53. Ibid., pp. 526–527.
54. Rabia Karakaya Polat, “The Kurdish Issue: Can the AK Party Escape
Securitization?” Insight Turkey, Vol. 10, No. 3, 2008, pp. 75–86; see
p. 76.
55. Ibid., p. 80.
56. Ibid., pp. 84–85.
57. Mark MacKinnon, “A Bitter War Has Kurds Divided among Themselves:
The PKK Risks Losing Popular Support as Its Increasingly Bloody Con-
fl ict with Turkey Threatens the Stability of Iraqi Kurdistan,” The Global
M i n o r i t i e s a n d M a r g i n a l i z e d C o m m u n i t i e s 169
and Mail, October 27, 2008; available at http://www.30cycles.com/
monsh/II/ABitterWar . Last visited on November 14, 2008.
58. Mahmood Monshipouri, Islamism, Secularism, and Human Rights in the
Middle East. Boulder, CO: Lynn Rienner Publishers, 1998, p. 125.
59. See Republic of Turkey, Mardin Governorship, available at http://www.
mardin.gov.tr/english/tarihi/nufus.asp. Last visited on November 15,
2008. Also see Human Development Report 2007, NY: UNDP, 2008.
60. “Terror in the Mountains: Turkey and the Kurds,” The Economist, October
18, 2008.
61. Robert Olson, “ Turkish- Kurdish Relations: A Year of Signifi cant Develop-
ments,” Insight Turkey, Vol. 10, No. 3, 2008, pp. 23–51; see p. 28.
62. Tarik Oguzlu, “Turkey’s Northern Iraq Policy: Competing Perspectives,”
Insight Turkey, Vol. 10, No. 3, 2008, pp. 5–22; see p. 19.
63. Ibid., p. 20.
64. Robert Olson, “ Turkish- Kurdish Relations,” p. 38.
65. Ertan Efegil, “Turkey’s New Approaches toward the PKK, Iraqi
Kurds and the Kurdish Question,” Insight Turkey, Vol. 10, No. 3, 2008,
pp. 53–73; see p. 70.
4
C h a p t e r 9
Lessons from Movements
for Rights Regarding Sexual
Orientation in the Arab World
A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
Controversies over rights regarding sexual orientation have been
particularly contentious in the Arab world. But, while sexual orientation
has been a fl ashpoint garnering media and academic attention, in fact
such controversies reproduce political and intellectual debates over the
legitimacy of a broad range of human rights that have taken place both
globally and in the Arab world. These debates are particularly important
in the wake of the Arab Spring, which has moved to center stage both
movements for human rights in the Arab world and the political and
intellectual backlash against such movements. In that context, questions
regarding the source of human rights legitimacy have become particularly
acute. Refl ecting on controversies over sexual orientation, thus, gives a
point of entry to thinking not just about the legitimacy of rights in that
specifi c regard but, as well, the legitimacy of human rights writ large.
I will argue in this respect against both relativist and universalist claims
regarding human rights. Relativist critiques (particularly in contemporary
structuralist form) that see human rights as refl ections of either cultural
specifi cities or hegemonic power interests underplay human agency. That
agency informs engagements with the transnational normative currents
that have been a key impulse behind the rights regime’s global expansion.
This does not mean, however, that human rights have an extrapolitical,
philosophical, or legal foundation that is universally relevant.1 Such
“universality” implies an authoritative, static foundational source for
172 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
human rights that is mythical. To the contrary, the reasons behind human
rights’ global resonance are varied and multiple rather than being based
on an all- encompassing moral or legal principle.2
An explanation is required beyond either philosophic universalism
or legal pragmatism for the dynamic that has pushed human rights into
international law, politics, and institutions as a global language for those
seeking justice. This dynamic comes from the degree to which the rights
regime can absorb, represent, and structure claims made by populations
previously excluded from conversations that inform global politics. In
other words, human rights are too often conceptualized as being about
universal law or morality on top and social movements at the bottom,
and the uneasy interaction between those elite and popular levels. To the
contrary, human rights are grounded in law (domestic and international),
political processes, institutions (local, international, and transnational),
and normative currents. These groundings are not in a hierarchical
relationship in which one of them is the ultimate foundation. They are,
instead, in a circular relationship in which the rights regime is vibrant
(or not) to the degree these groundings mutually inform and permeate
each other.
The source of human rights’ continued resonance in this reading—its
only real origin—is its ability to be part of dynamic transnational conver-
sations such as those initiated by movements that make claims for rights
regarding sexual orientation—conversations that take place at legal,
political, institutional, and normative levels. These circular connections
among the elements in which human rights are grounded are essential to
the maintenance and expansion of its global resonance. Responding to
assertions of rights regarding sexual orientation, therefore, is to engage
in and refl ect transnational discourse and its normative agents in societies
around the world, allowing the human rights regime to be transformed
just as it was transformed (and continues to be transformed) via mutual
engagement with the other normative networks, such as the global
women’s movement to give just one example.3 These claims will, by defi –
nition, be “diffi cult.” But addressing such claims is what gives the human
rights regime the ability to sustain itself in global politics.
Background
Sexual orientation has to various degrees increasingly come to be taken as
constitutive of public identity rather than a private matter in many soci-
eties around the world.4 In response, there have been virulent reactions
against assertions of a space in the public sphere for those with alterna-
tive sexual orientations or gender identity. From Jamaica to the United
States to Iran and elsewhere, nationalist- patriarchal credentials have been
advanced by demonizing and violating the rights of those whose sexual
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 173
orientation or gender identity challenge traditional norms. This has, in
turn, made the rights claims of those who are subject to such violence all
the more urgent.
While one can argue that broad human rights language in core treaties
about nondiscrimination could be read as inclusive of sexual orientation
and gender identity, there is no evidence that early human rights instru-
ments were elaborated with such groups in mind. Indeed, for many years
human rights protections were not acknowledged to be applicable to
sexual orientation or gender identity, whether by Geneva- based treaty
monitoring bodies or by international human rights NGOs such as
Human Rights Watch.
In recent years new readings and new instruments have brought these
topics into international human rights law. This is not because interna-
tional law already contained these protections, but rather because new
readings and new law fl owed out of transnational normative conversa-
tions pushed by activist groups.5 In other words, as with many other
evolutions of the human rights regime, it came out of a process of
continuous reinterpretation in the context of grassroots normative move-
ments and political processes. As Gruskin and Ferguson note, “prior to
1994 sexual orientation was not in any way recognized as a protected
‘other status.’”6 The Human Rights Committee’s 1994 holding in the
Toonen case was the fi rst expansion of rights in this domain as it rejected
Australian law that criminalized sodomy.7
Under the impact of lobbying from transnational normative networks
and underlying shifts in normative constructs as to what rights are, in
2000 and 2009 the Committee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
issued General Comments 14 and 20 that deemed discrimination in access
to health services based on sexual orientation and gender identity as unac-
ceptable.8 In this they gave legal grounding to a reconceptualization that
had been bubbling up over previous decades. Even now, however, making
the rights’ regime inclusive toward sexual orientation remains contentious
and on the margins of the work of dominant human rights institutions.
Nonetheless, many mainstream human rights practitioners and
theorists see rights regarding sexual orientation as too contentious to be
advanced. In the Arab world, for example, those arrested in the 2001
Queen Boat case in Egypt and accused of “debauchery” had diffi culty
fi nding representation from human rights groups. One arrested person
was told that “human rights matters in Egypt have ‘more serious’ issues
and they don’t want to lose their credibility with the people if they take
on this case.”9 The understandable fear is that pushing such cutting- edge
issues goes too far, and risks discrediting the human rights regime by
reinforcing an image of it as overly focused on the rights of those who
affront putatively local cultural identities. Examining rights movements
regarding sexual orientation and critical responses to those movements,
174 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
thus, provides a nuanced context to the basic question: On what basis
does one legitimately advance human rights?
Case Study: Sexual Orientation
in the Arab World
Tension regarding rights and sexual orientation has been notably acute
in parts of the Arab world in which there are ongoing debates that pit
contrasting ideas of “Islam” and “the West” or “local” and “global”
against each other.10 Notions of rights regarding sexual orientation
have been particularly discomfi ting insofar as they might reinforce such
monolithic categories, i.e., that rights are about a “Western” identity
or project, rather than claims that legitimately refl ect “authentic” Arab
identity. Negar Azimi summarizes political dynamics over recent years in
this regard in the Arab world:
The politics of homosexuality is changing fast in the Arab world. For
many years, corners of the region have been known for their rich gay
subcultures. . . . But sexuality in general and homosexuality in particular
are increasingly becoming concerns of the modern Arab state. Politicians,
the police, government offi cials, and much of the press are making homo-
sexuality an “issue”: a way to display nationalist bona fi des . . . The policing
of homosexuality has become part of what sometimes seems like a general
moral panic.11
Revolutionary movements coursed through the Arab world in
2010–11. The degree to which such movements are sustainable remains
to be seen, but they certainly overturned commonly held intellectual
assumptions (particularly common to academics) that human rights have
little place in the Arab world. The political- moral “panic” to which Azimi
refers had, in fact, long existed simultaneous to churning on- the- ground
social movements, especially among the region’s youth. Indeed, it is these
changing social realities that nationalists demonized as a way of reinforc-
ing the status quo. In that context, among various sexual orientations in
the Arab world, it is gay men who have been most prominent as subjects
claiming a (limited) public space, objects of reprisal, and (again, in a lim-
ited though expanding manner) moving toward making rights claims.12
Two possible conclusions can result. One, that such articulations of
public identities and rights claims refl ect political- cultural dynamism and
social- individual agency. Or, two, that articulations of rights’ claims imply
fellow- traveling with the West in a way that refl ects political and cultural
imperialism deserving of political repression and social stigma.
Debates in this regard have taken place regarding virtually all pushes
for human rights in nearly all parts of the world. In the Arab world, they
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 175
are by now a form of Kabuki theater in which new topics are shadowed
by previously rehearsed roles and arguments. Sexuality and gender,
however, are particularly intense intersections of the personal, cultural,
and political, so the emotion and fear they arouse are unsurprising. The
intensity of these debates is also behind the fear that sexual orientation
and gender rights risk being constructed in a way that reinforces notions
of a binary split between the “West” and the “Arab world,” reifying
ideological views that endanger any articulation of rights in the Arab
world—hence the understandable fear that such rights are too diffi cult.
This comes to a head in Massad’s dismissal of Arabs making rights claims,
most specifi cally claims regarding sexual orientation.
Joseph Massad and the Gay International Critique
The question of the foundation for human rights has always been charged,
subject to critiques from relativist infl uenced scholars as uncritically uni-
versalizing Western norms. Rights regarding sexual orientation, more
specifi cally, have been subject to particularly harsh critiques as illegiti-
mate “Western” exports. Joseph Massad’s work has connected these two
critiques with his assertion that Arab gay male identity is an illegitimate
import and that its emergence is part of the illegitimate spread of human
rights across the globe. Examining Massad’s argument is important as it
raises, in a diffi cult context, the question of human rights’ justifi cation
for working globally.
Massad’s arguments are problematic, but do raise the issue of how
unsatisfying standard justifi cations for human rights are. Examining con-
troversies over sexual orientation in the Arab world, thus, gives context
and indicates the urgency of the basic questions being addressed: Is there
an authoritative foundation to human rights? Is it possible to think of
human rights from an antifoundational perspective that avoids either, on
the one hand, a naïve notion of universal foundations or, on the other
hand, an insular separation from the normative and political currents that
impel rights claims? And, if so, does that allow an answer to those who
question working on diffi cult human rights issues who have been subject
to (rather violently emotional) attacks such as Massad’s that rights claims
are foreign imports?
Massad poses the issue of rights regarding sexual orientation in
binary terms. Using language that calls to mind a Huntingtonian clash
of civilizations worldview, he speaks fi rmly from the camp that rights
for gay men are part of an imperialist project. He argues that activism
supporting rights regarding sexual orientation around this issue is, adopt-
ing Foucauldian language, “an incitement to discourse”—in his terms,
gay missionaries have “created” gay men where none existed in the Arab
world.13 Massad argues that rights regarding sexual orientation are a
“Western” identity project that does not come out of claims that could
176 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
legitimately refl ect an identity authentic to Arabs. The implicit idea in this
concept is that gay Arab men can only be explained due to the imposition
of an outside force rather than their own agency.
Massad’s underlying assumption refl ects a basic notion in structuralist
critiques of human rights: that human rights are about creating global
citizens and, as such, are a leveling project that serves the purpose of
global capital and global hegemony by leading powers. This assump-
tion endorses a static notion of human rights bound to the culture and
location of their supposed origins. The irony is that this antiuniversalist
position is analogous to naïve universalisms in its monolithic notion of
political culture. Each assert a static, totalizing construct of the world,
the only difference being whether that construct is of one or of multiple
monoliths.
There are overlapping and mutual constitutive theoretical and empiri-
cal issues in Massad’s argument. There are, specifi cally, three problematic
aspects to Massad’s argument:
1. It deprives agency to Arabs. Massad says that Arab gay men are
“created” by “gay missionaries whose aim is to defend the very people
their intervention is creating.”14 There is no more stark statement of
a point- of- view that sees Arabs as child- like and incapable of agency
or, in other words, incapable of moving outside social- cultural borders
predetermined by an assumed uniform and static Arab society and
culture.
2. It assumes that normative currents are necessarily nefarious imposi-
tions rather than currents with which Arabs can (and, inevitably, do)
engage, contest, and contribute. Massad’s conceptualization of iden-
tity formation ignores that sexual and gender identities are defi ned in
a space that, for better or worse, moves us beyond an insular concep-
tion of the local and is, instead, informed by the transnational fl ows
of norms, networks, media, diasporas et cetera that defi ne life in the
Arab world and elsewhere.
3. It essentializes culture and freezes movements for change. Denial of
evolving identity construction and transnational currents in such cases
does not just deny reality, it denies a culture’s inherent pluralism and
changeability. Per points 1 and 2, this negates agency and ignores
the transnational currents that inform daily life. In so doing, it gives
a deeply distorted view of the realities of how peoples have engaged
with human rights, understating political and social dynamism in the
Arab world and globally.
A rejoinder to Massad’s polemic must note the vibrancy of indi-
vidual and group agency, the inevitability of transnational normative
connections, and how these inform conceptualizations in which political
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 177
societies are not essentialized as static, but rather open to changes based
on fl uid identity constructions and social pluralism. The issue, thus, is not
if gay Arab men can or should exist, but what to do when Arab gay men
(and others) are demanding their rights. On a purely academic level, one
can bloodlessly observe that such voices exist and are making their voices
heard. That empirical reality must be recognized and integrated into
theoretical frames, a project of which this chapter is a part. Indeed, this
empirical reality is what is missing from the sort of academic literature
that smugly dismisses those making rights claims as “created.”
Beyond this, it is worth noting that Massad’s work is in the well trod
cultural nationalist tradition of emphasizing static cultural purity in such
debates. To borrow a phrase from Arjun Appadurai and apply it in a
somewhat different context,15 it is a clear expression of “fear of small
numbers” (i.e., the anxiety felt by politically and culturally dominant
groups when faced with assertions of difference) that so often leads to
explosions of violence targeting minorities. In Appadurai’s terms, this
“remind[s] these majorities of the small gap which lies between their
condition as majorities and the horizon of an unsullied national whole, a
pure and untainted national ethnos.”16
The essential issue at the nexus of the theoretical and the empirical/
political is that Massad’s work on gay Arab men encapsulates a discourse
of violence that often faces those with identities that challenge the status
quo—the “small numbers” that challenge, as Appadurai says, the pure
whole. Again, this extends beyond sexuality into nationalist discourse on
minorities in other categories, part of what Appadurai describes as “an
emerging repertoire of efforts to produce previously unrequired levels of
certainty about social identity, values, survival, and dignity.”17
This reproduces the repression of a vulnerable and marginalized group
and turns their victimizers in regimes such as Egypt’s Mubarak into seem-
ing heroes for defending Arab integrity against cultural traitors. Egypt’s
February 2011 revolution would seem to be a move toward rejecting
precisely such stultifying social straightjackets. Indeed, the essential is
to recognize agency and how agency is defi ned in the context of chang-
ing social confi gurations structured by local, transnational, and global
interactions. Multiple sexual and gender identities are defi ned in a space
that, for better or worse, moves us beyond the global and the local and is
informed by all pluralistic fl ows of power, information, and meaning that
move across various cultural locations.18
Of course, sexuality raises intense fears and insecurities. So it is no
surprise claims that emphasize the fl uidity of sexual and gender identity
will see a severe backlash against assertions of sexual and gender identities
that challenge embedded structures of surveillance and control. This
backlash makes clear the urgency of responding to the questions I raised
at the start of this chapter: Why have human rights resonated globally
178 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
and what is the legitimacy of such global resonance when faced with
Massad- like backlashes?
Moving Toward Antifoundational
Understandings of Human Rights
There are two interconnected ways in which human rights are commonly
distorted: by being invoked as a singular philosophical abstraction or as a
static, unchanging entity. In either mode (or in both, as quite often they
overlap), human rights are taken to have been invented in one philo-
sophical or legal moment and to have remained fundamentally defi ned
by that moment. Both universalists in their enthusiasm and relativists in
their skepticism make that assumption their point of departure in concep-
tualizing human rights. It is, however, a futile quest to seek out human
rights’ foundation as a way to understand what human rights are today.19
This notion that we know what human rights are and merely have to
apply them is deeply unsatisfying in its implication that human rights are
a static thing that simply need to be protected by some sort of benevolent
power that will oversee human rights. This plays into a savior vision of
human rights in which they are a predetermined entity that those with
power can provide. To the contrary, human rights are objects of struggle
that can be seized from below and, in that process, redefi ned.
Two elements give the human rights regime tangible substance:
one, the obligations it imposes and, two, its ability to be redefi ned in
order to change how existing obligations are understood and to be open
to evolving new obligations. Regarding the former, rights take on rel-
evance at the level of the very real obligations they impose on states to
respect a panoply of rights. To the degree such rights resonate with the
political, economic, and social needs of groups within a state—and, espe-
cially, give a basis for legal and political claims to those structurally dis-
advantaged within a society—human rights will be relevant. This anchor
gives essential structure and solidity to the rights regime.
The second element combines with the fi rst to move into the core of
my argument. It is simplistic to think of human rights as an unchang-
ing entity defi ned in treaty tablets that evolved out of philosophical
abstractions or disconnected legal consent. Continued reconfi gurations
of human rights—such as its increased emphasis on the interdependency
of economic and political rights or the emergence of rights regarding
sexual orientation—epitomize how they have often been reconstructed
on a grassroots level, in a transnational context. Human rights’ dyna-
mism has come from transnational conversations that can be (and have
been to some, perhaps overly limited, degree) two- way streets. This
back and forth is essential if human rights are to remain relevant as
something other than a distant, Geneva- based legal entity or a culturally
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 179
particular imposition. This is an argument that goes deeper into why it is
a dangerous mistake to turn away from even the most diffi cult, conten-
tious issues: doing so is to also turn away from permitting the potential
redefi nition of the rights’ regime in a way that can keep it vibrant.
So where to begin regarding a more complex reading of human rights’
origins, and toward an antifoundationalist position? Addressing such
origins can be based less on a broad universalism and more on an under-
standing of human rights that sees its expanding resonance as lying in its
engagement with emerging normative movements. I will make this argu-
ment in four steps. The fi rst of these steps is the importance of agency,
the second the implicit cosmopolitanism20 —albeit not universalism—in
any notion of human rights, the third the structures of contemporary
global society that are marked most signifi cantly by the globalization
of the state and by the growing expanse of transnational currents and
networks that bypass the state, and, last, a “chemical reaction” model of
human rights evolution borrowed from Samuel Moyn that indicates how
groundings in law, politics, institutions, and norms inform human rights
in a circular manner, rather than human rights resting on one foundation.
This dynamic is illustrated in how the global women’s movement helped
transform the human rights regime and was, in turn, transformed by its
integration into the human rights regime. The push for rights regarding
sexual orientation shows potential for a similar dynamic.
Michael Ignatieff ’s argument that rights are fundamentally about
giving space for agency give a basis for the fi rst step toward this anti-
foundationalist argument. To Ignatieff, human rights are not necessarily
about the good nor the ethical, but rather about the minimum neces-
sary to guarantee human agency – the right to be different, the right
to dissent, and the right to engage in the politics, economics, society,
and culture within a state without discrimination. Ignatieff summarizes
a notion of agency as fundamental to the human rights regime in the
following way:
Such grounding as modern human rights requires, I would argue, is based
on what history tells us: that human beings are at risk of their lives if they
lack a basic measure of free agency; that agency itself requires protection
through internationally agreed standards; that these standards should enti-
tle individuals to oppose and resist unjust laws and orders within their own
states; and, fi nally, that when all other remedies have been exhausted, these
individuals have the right to appeal to other peoples, nations, international
organizations for assistance in defending their rights.21
This emphasis on bottom- up agency connects to the idea that there
is no singular foundation for human rights, but rather various impulses
that refl ect the agency of diverse individuals and human societies. Rather
than viewing the global resonance of human rights as the imposition
180 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
of powerful Western hegemony onto agentless subjects, its resonance
is instead indicative of the power of individual agency to engage and
transform transnational normative currents. The question remains: how
to take these “various impulses” and integrate them into a compelling
justifi cation for transnational human rights.
A second step in this direction is that there is often some notion,
articulated or not, of cosmopolitanism at the heart of any justifi cation for
human rights—that is, an idea of a connected humanity that binds us in
an ethical community, rather than the sorts of particularisms grounded
in religion, race, or nationality that limit an ethical commitment only to
a specifi c community.22 Part of the grounding of such a cosmopolitan
worldview is philosophical (with variants, including the “thick” or “thin”
cosmopolitanisms that Walzer and others discuss), but such a philo-
sophical cosmopolitanism’s ability to globally underpin human rights is
limited. As Donnelly argues, human rights have an “overlapping univer-
sality” functionally grounded in the politics and law of contemporary
global society but, on the other hand, have, at best, a weak conceptual
or ontological universality.23 There is, as the UDHR’s drafters seem to
have understood, little basis to assert a unitary philosophic foundation
to human rights. To the contrary, human rights are open to various
justifi cations that move beyond both cultural particularism and singular
universality.
So agency and an implicit cosmopolitanism may be key building
blocks, but as an ultimate justifi cation are not as globally convincing as
some might hope. Is there a way to push agency and “overlapping univer-
sality” into a holistic but not universalizing, top- down theory of human
rights? It may be useful, in this regard, to focus on why human rights
are relevant—that is, an “origin” may not be located in a historical or
philosophical moment, but rather in our understanding of the dynamics
of contemporary global society. This would combine agency and cosmo-
politanism with a third step toward antifoundationalism: recognition of
the structural factors that have made human rights globally relevant.
This third step is put into focus via a transnationally grounded per-
spective that can lead us toward recognizing how human rights have
evolved in the context of the particular structures of contemporary global
society—both transnationally and state- based. The global movement
of peoples, goods, technologies, media, social networking, and norms
has exploded any notion of a “local” community, making assumptions
about the impermeability of domestic sovereignties and solidarities
questionable.24 Domestic politics do not exist in an insular vacuum bliss-
fully separate from transnational currents, but are rather informed by
those currents. Structurally, beyond general transnational currents, post-
WWII decolonization brought with it the globalization of the modern
state system structure and the rise of international organizations that
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 181
have come to be both a focal point in global politics and an inescapable
presence in many parts of the developing world. On that basis, human
rights can be seen to be based less on a philosophic worldview and more
as fl owing out of the dynamics of the globe’s transnational political, eco-
nomic, social, and normative networks.
It is no surprise, in short, that a globalized human rights discourse
has fl owed out of contemporary normative and political structures rather
than cultural or philosophical abstractions. Human rights discourses have
global relevance in the context of the unprecedented power of the global-
ized modern state over individuals and social groups in all parts of the
world; international organizations and transnational networks that open
up paths around the state’s powerfully intrusive ability to dominate polit-
ical and social life; and transnational norms that can connect peoples to
the relevance of human rights protections to their local politics. It makes
no sense to naively break the world into discrete, distinct communities—
as Massad does in his understanding that “gay” is an acceptable public
identity in some parts of the world but not others—when the structures
that defi ne politics around the globe are so interconnected. Human
rights’ relevance or irrelevance comes from the degree to which it
responds to those structures and, specifi cally, how states, international
organizations, transnational networks, and, especially, grassroots political
movements have come to insist—in varying degrees and in contradictory
ways—on the bearing of specifi c rights to the political, economic, social,
and cultural realities and power relations they confront. This is the most
salient “origin” of human rights’ integration into contemporary law,
politics, norms, and institutions.
Disembodied intellectual disputes about a foundation risk ignoring
the empirical fact that the human rights regime is a shifting and transna-
tionally defi ned entity that is often rearticulated and redeployed in differ-
ent contexts, making the search for a foundation misleading. Ultimately,
the relevance of rights is due to how it has enmeshed states in a human
rights web (one partly of their own making), how extensive human rights
programming by international organizations and donor agencies has
reinforced human rights movements on the ground, and how civil society
groupings in virtually all parts of the world have seized on human rights
law and norms as a basis to advance their work. This is not a singular
idea of human rights foundations. But, by being pluralistic, this anti-
foundationalist justifi cation does coherently account for the multitude of
political and normative movements that have grasped onto human rights
and, in so doing, both informed the rights regime with their energy and,
in turn, have constituted human rights.
A fourth step toward conceptualizing this circular dynamic at the
heart of human rights is to note how human rights’ permutations do
(or do not, to the degree the rights regime is static) respond to and fl ow
182 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
out of the needs of peoples around the globe. As Samuel Moyn puts it,
“human rights in their specifi c contemporary connotations are an inven-
tion of recent date, which drew on prior languages and practices the way
a chemical reaction depends on having various elements around from
different sources, some of them older than others.”25 The incentives
behind this activity may share, in some sense, a cosmopolitan worldview
and certainly engage rather than deny a transnationalized world, but we
need to go further if we are to understand how the rights’ regime has
evolved under the impact of numerous impulses. Emerging movements
for rights regarding sexual orientation, for example, have been at the cut-
ting edge of change in both the Arab world and the international human
rights regime. This epitomizes a “chemical reaction” model of how the
human rights regime has been able to invent and reinvent itself in ways
that maintain its global relevance, rather than by virtue of some eternally
powerful point of origin. The emergence, resonance, and continuous
evolution of sexual identity speak to the fl uidity of human identity. In
order for the human rights regime to remain relevant, it must adapt and
evolve with such fl uid currents. The “origin,” in short, is in the way that
movements—such as those for rights regarding sexual orientation—can
take rights as a tool to advance their own interests and norms. In this they
are taking part in the dynamism that has given human rights an entry
point into the power relations of a heterogeneous, changing world.
The global women’s movement has been at the forefront of pushing
the rights regime to defi ne itself in more expansive terms that empha-
size the indivisibility of rights and the need to not just respect but also
protect and fulfi ll rights.26 The “women’s rights are human rights”
movement and how it transformed international human rights is a classic
example of antifoundationalism, epitomizing the diverse forces that
impact on how the rights regime shifts and changes. Human rights as
we now understand them were redefi ned from the bottom up rather
than according to the regime’s “founding” principles. Global women’s
rights’ advocates insisted that human rights could not simply be a mat-
ter of passively respecting the rights of those who are subject to political
or civil violations. Rather it took as just as important the protection and
fulfi llment of a spectrum of rights in ways that require positive actions by
the state. This means taking into account how violations are systemically
built into political, economic, social, and cultural structures and, most
importantly, that a state’s obligations include taking all viable measures
possible to address those structural bases of rights violations. This has
had a transformative and lasting impact on how human rights have come
to be understood.
Subsequently, movements for rights regarding sexual orientation
are pushing even harder in a direction that emphasizes that “negative”
respect for rights is inseparable from “positive” fulfi llment of rights, be
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 183
those rights in the economic, political, civil, cultural, or social categories.
Sexual and gender rights have challenged traditionally narrow notions
of what constitutes a protected status against discrimination, emphasiz-
ing that respect for rights based on a singular identity risks creating a
straightjacket that denies the fl uidity of identity.27 Movements for rights
regarding sexual orientation have been distinctive in their insistence
on how identities are multiple and overlapping. This move away from
simple identity politics in which sexuality is just one more identity to be
protected is perhaps the distinctive contribution of movements for rights
regarding sexual orientation. If breaking down monolithic identities
becomes normalized as part of how the human rights regime is under-
stood, it will be as transformative and as important as the transformation
pushed by the global women’s movement in preceding decades. Both
theocratic and secular authoritarianisms share a fondness for controlling
women and repressing sexuality. This is not a coincidence or a side issue,
but indicates the threat human agency is to political power founded in
the narrow straightjacket of social control and exclusivist identity politics.
The alternative to repression lies less in changing a particular policy and
more in opening space for fl uid, multiple identities that break down
authoritarianisms justifi ed in essentialized constructs of politics, society,
and culture.
And, to my argument, if this continues to progress it will be another
example of how the rights’ regime can be reconstituted in ways that
are about grassroots political action and transnational normative move-
ments just as much as international legal treaties and institutions. Those
scattered impulses are the opposite of a permanent foundation, and
yet are the concrete basis of human rights increasing global relevance.
Without an openness to these pushes from the bottom- up, the human
rights regime will be lifeless. In other words, a longer way of phrasing
antifoundationalism is that having an openness to cutting- edge norma-
tive movements is, paradoxically, the “foundation” of the human rights
regime’s ability to sustain its global relevance. It is for this reason that
conceptualizing the human rights regime in all of its complexity is so
important, as that complexity is a rebuke to the notion that it is defi ned
eternally by one foundation. Human rights are constantly renewed, in
part by intersections with transnational political and normative currents,
not by recourse to some sort of creation myth.
Conclusion
An antifoundational reading of human rights does not mean that human
rights have no groundings. The interplay between the legal, political,
normative, and institutional groundings of human rights is essential, as
I have argued. Indeed, to break down these groundings further, there
184 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
is an ongoing dialectic between laws and institutions (domestic and
international) that give permanent structure to human rights and the
political processes and normative currents that, if they penetrate laws and
institutions, renew this regime and give it life.
As important as all these groundings are, however, the primary
impulse fl ows out of something Claude Lefort identifi es: that human
rights are the product of past struggles and the object of new ones.28
While there is no ultimate foundation for human rights, the chaotic
impulses that keep human rights relevant most often come from people
on the ground in different political, economic, social, and cultural loca-
tions around the globe. Hence the theoretical understanding of human
rights I have sketched out that sees its continued relevance and expanded
resonance as dependent on engagement with emerging normative move-
ments, not a turning away from them.
The global women’s movement and movements for rights regarding
sexual orientation and gender identity also show how this must be a two-
way street. For the human rights regime to maintain its relevance it is
dependent on continuously evolving in response to normative currents.
Rights rely for their relevance on an ability to be (re)constituted by those
making claims in the emancipatory language of rights that is evolving and
multisourced rather than singular and static.
It is intellectually impoverished to conceptualize human rights as eter-
nally defi ned by one historic moment that has since progressed in a linear
fashion.29 While created by states and embedded in domestic law, pushed
by grassroots and transnational normative movements, overseen by
domestic and international organizations, and anchored in international
law, the human rights regime only takes shape from the circular back-
and- forth among these elements. Normative movements and political
processes continually inform and redefi ne the rights regime at the legal
and institutional level, just as law and institutions give solidity to human
rights’ place in global politics. The rights’ regime is not a matter of top-
down bequests or a universal foundation.30
This returns us to the question posed at the start of this chapter: how
to deal with diffi cult rights in contentious circumstances, such as rights for
gay men in the Arab world. By the logic of my argument, even though
I am entirely sympathetic to the political diffi culty claims for such rights
pose, there is really no choice. All rights are, by defi nition, diffi cult.
The essence of the rights’ regime is to take on claims from vulnerable
groups that are articulated in the language and structure of the rights’
regime. To the degree it has done so, the rights’ regime has, remarkably,
thrived. To the degree it has not, it has been static and elitist.
In short, claims for diffi cult rights in contentious circumstances are,
indeed, problematic. Their diffi culty, however, speaks directly to the
essence of the human rights project. Taking up such diffi cult challenges
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 185
has been and remains essential to the maintenance and expansion of its
global resonance. To ignore such claims from Arabs because some say
their source is “Western” is to impose an Orientalist- like notion that
Arabs (and “Westerners”) have unchanging mentalities and, specifi cally,
unchanging sexual and gender constructs that do not permit rights’ claims
to be made. To the contrary, the Arab world is not and never has been
an insular backwater; peoples from within its diverse communities have
always been a part of transnational currents affecting changing social
constructs. To ignore rights’ claims that come from within that dynamic
sphere is to both reinforce monolithic notions of identity and unchang-
ing community and, most importantly, to narrow the sources that defi ne
what human rights can become.
A response to the questions regarding the source and legitimacy of
human rights I posed at the beginning of this chapter, therefore, fl ows
out of the arguments I have been making. The source for human rights
regime’s global resonance is the way in which it is fl uidly informed by
impulses and claims that come from numerous sources—sources that
have no reason to be seen as geographically or culturally bordered.
Regarding legitimacy, such sources shift the issue away from whether or
not a defi ned human rights corpus should be applied from “on high” to
resistant parts of the world. Rights are not static moral principles that
need to be protected by the globe’s most powerful actors the way a baby
is protected by a parent. Instead, in all parts of the world human rights
are an object of struggle, and their legitimacy depends not on geography
or ethnic identity, but rather on the degree to which they respond to
those struggles.
Notes
1. For an example of a “universalist” approach with much to recommend
it, see William Talbott, Which Rights Should Be Universal? (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2005).
2. For an excellent example of a “moral” argument for human rights, see
Michael J. Perry, The Idea of Human Rights: Four Inquiries (New York:
Oxford University Press, 1998).
3. Arvonne Fraser, “Becoming Human: The Origins and Development
of Women’s Human Rights,” Human Rights Quarterly, vol. 21, no. 4
(November 1999). See also Arvonne Fraser and Irene Tinker, How
Women Transformed International Development (New York: Feminist
Press, 2004).
4. Sexuality and Human Rights: Discussion Paper (Versoix, Switzerland:
International Council on Human Rights Policy, 2009); Arvind Narrain,
“Human Rights and Sexual Minorities: Global and Local Contexts,”
Law, Social Justice and Human Development, no. 2 (2001); Alice Miller,
“Sexuality, Violence against Women and Human Rights: Women Make
186 A n t h o n y T i r a d o C h a s e
Demands, and Ladies Get Protection,” Health and Human Rights 7,
no. 2 (Winter 2004); Ignacio Saiz, “Bracketing Sexuality: Human Rights
and Sexual Orientation—A Decade of Development and Denial at the
U.N.,” Health and Human Rights 7, no. 2 (Winter 2004).
5. For a “gatekeeper” theory for the emergence of such rights, see Julie
Mertus, “Applying the Gatekeeper Model of Human Rights Activism:
The U.S.-Based Movement for LGBT Rights,” in The International
Struggle for New Human Rights, ed. Clifford Bob (Philadelphia: Univer-
sity of Pennsylvania Press, 2009).
6. Sofi a Gruskin and Laura Ferguson, “Government Regulation of Sex
and Sexuality: In Their Own Words,” Reproductive Health Matters 17,
no. 34, p. 2.
7. For further details, see International Commission of Jurists, Sexual
Orientation, Gender Identity, and International Human Rights Law
(Geneva: ICJ, 2009) or Douglas Sanders, “Sexual and Gender Identity,”
in Encyclopedia of Human Rights, vol. 4., ed. Forsythe, pp. 433–445.
8. General Comments being the defi nitive treaty monitoring body interpre-
tations of the rights in the treaties they oversee.
9. Maher Sabry interview with David Khalili, “Exposing Oppression in
Egypt,” National Sexual Resource Center, June 18, 2008, http://nsrc.sfsu.
edu/article/homophobia_oppression_egypt_fi lm_queen_boat, accessed
October 1, 2009.
10. In general, see Deconstructing Sexuality in the Middle East, ed. Pinar
Ilkkaracan (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008).
11. Negar Azimi, “Prisoners of Sex,” New York Times, December 3, 2006.
Azimi adds that “[p]ublic regulation of morality is an area in which
[Egypt’s] secular regime—often through its mouthpiece religious institu-
tion, Al Azhar—is in harmony with the Islamists.” It’s also interesting that
Azimi notes police reports often justify arrests for homosexuality as the
arrested threaten to harm “the country’s reputation at the international
level” (Azimi is quoting from a police report)—as noted, transnational
currents work in many different directions.
12. Indeed, the focus in this chapter on gay Arab males is quite limiting.
Sexuality is a set of undefi ned erotic practices mediated by social norms,
economic structures, and political situations. The subjectivities that
fl ow out of this are multiple, not reducible to the standard categories of
heterosexual or homosexual.
13. Joseph Massad, “ Re- Orienting Desire: The Gay International and the
Arab World,” Public Culture 1, no. 2 (Spring 2002), and Joseph Massad,
Desiring Arabs (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007).
14. Massad, Desiring Arabs, p. 41.
15. Appadurai is discussing ethnic minorities, not sexual or gender minorities.
His concepts, however, illuminate their structurally similar position.
16. Appadurai, Fear of Small Numbers, p. 8.
17. Ibid., p. 7.
18. Evelyn Blackwood, “Transnational Sexualities in One Place: Indonesian
Readings,” Gender & Society (April 2005).
L e s s o n s f r o m M ov e m e n t s 187
19. Lynn Hunt, Inventing Human Rights: A History (New York: Norton,
2007).
20. “Critical cosmopolitanism” is the term used, usefully, by Gerard Delanty
and that informs some of my thoughts on this topic. Gerard Delanty,
“The Cosmopolitan Imagination: Critical Cosmopolitanism and Social
Theory,” The British Journal of Sociology 57, no. 1 (2006).
21. Michael Ignatieff, Human Rights as Politics and Idolatry (Princeton, NJ:
Princeton University Press, 2001), p. 55.
22. In addition to Delanty, see, for a more classic example of cosmopolitanism
that nonetheless avoids simplistic universalism, Kwame Anthony Appiah,
Cosmopolitanism: Ethics in a World of Strangers (New York: Norton,
2006).
23. Jack Donnelly, “The Relative Universality of Rights,” Human Rights
Quarterly 29, no. 2 (2007).
24. Christian Reus- Smit, “Human Rights and the Social Construction of
Sovereignty,” Review of International Studies 27 (2001).
25. Samuel Moyn, “On the Genealogy of Morals,” The Nation, April 16,
2007.
26. On the “Respect, Protect, Fulfi ll” paradigm, see Gruskin and Tarantola,
“Health and Human Rights,” in Perspectives on Health and Human
Rights, ed. Gruskin, Grodin, Annas, and Marks (New York: Routledge,
2005). My own take on “Respect, Protect, Fulfi ll” is in Chase and Alaug,
“Health, Human Rights, and Islam: A Focus on Yemen,” Health and
Human Rights: An International Journal 8, no. 1 (2005).
27. Scott Long, “When Doctors Torture: The Anus and the State in Egypt
and Beyond,” Health and Human Rights: An International Journal 7,
no. 2 (2004).
28. Claude Lefort, Writing: The Political Test (Durham and London: Duke
University Press, 2000).
29. For an elegant examination of this and related questions, see Reza Afshari,
“On Historiography of Human Rights,” Human Rights Quarterly 29,
no. 1 (2007).
30. See Ingram, “What Is a ‘Right to Have Rights?”.
4
P a r t I I I
Introduction III : Strategies
In some ways, protecting and promoting human rights and responding
to human rights abuses are struggles that are typically fought on national
turfs, yet they are not necessarily beyond the infl uence of international
forces and actors. It is important to frame human rights issues in terms of
the interplay between international and local factors. As the recent upris-
ings in Tunisia, Egypt, Libya, Jordan, and Yemen have demonstrated,
while the triggering factors are local, the language of protest is couched
largely in terms of universal or inalienable human rights. These struggles
against poverty, unemployment, corruption, and repression must be
placed in a broad context that compels a depth of description. The
Western world’s support—or lack thereof—for such popular movements
may prove crucial in shaping things to come. The same can be said of
socioeconomic and political situations in Honduras, Ivory Coast, Peru,
Kenya, and Colombia, where issues are local but outside actors can play
an important role in infl uencing the outcome. The largest recipient of
U.S. military aid outside the Middle East is Colombia, and this may be
a crucial indicator of the extent to which the United States can infl uence
developments there. These and other cases are a testament to the fact that
the Middle East is not unique in facing such challenges.
Contributors to this section introduce a wide variety of strategies
for improving human rights. Some suggest sanctions, boycotts, and
divestment in the case of the Israeli- Palestinian confl ict. Others suggest
engagement of legitimate Islamist groups in the processes of political
partici pation and the introduction of a broader discourse on human rights.
Still others admonish us against democracy promotion project, consider-
ing it a complicated and long- term adventure that entails enormous risks.
They argue that we should instead focus narrowly on protecting certain
basic human rights by setting limits to political repression. Regarding the
rights of migrant workers, many observers espouse the strategy of preven-
tion and intervention in the form of government control over markets.
Without such regulations, migrant workers’ rights cannot be upheld in
the long term.
In the context of the 2011 uprisings in North Africa and the Middle
East, Bahey eldin Hassan argues that it is premature to proclaim the vic-
tory of democracy and human rights in the region. The confl ict between
democratic and entrenched authoritarian forces in Tunisia and Egypt—
where their peoples managed to remove the heads of the police states—
and political youth forces that only began to fi nd their way to politics in
recent years rages on. There was a virtual consensus among academics,
experts, and policymakers that the Arab world is one of the most resis-
tant regions to democratization and human rights today. According to
Freedom House, not one country in the region can be classifi ed as “free”
or as having a free press. Torture is widespread in most nations, along
with arbitrary arrest, whether sanctioned by some form of emergency law
or not. The judiciary lacks even a modicum of independence, and the
freedom of expression and assembly are severely restricted.
Yet, the 2011 uprisings sweeping across the region have upended the
assumption about the Arab people’s regressive views about their national
politics and have further exposed the problematic nature of the assumed
separation of the ordinary people from politics. As far as the Western
world is concerned, these leaderless and spontaneous uprisings have ren-
dered working with the old, local autocrats unpredictable and costly. As
regards the outcomes of these uprisings, great battles lie ahead. Whether
the Egyptian army will initiate as well as sustain the drive toward funda-
mental reforms and political openings remains a proposition in search of
a proof. The youth organizations are bound to face mounting challenges
from traditional politics and groups.
In Chapter 11, Mahmood Monshipouri and Shadi Mokhtari demon-
strate that the pursuit of the so- called war on terror invariably generates
extremely diffi cult choices for societies espousing liberal values and iden-
tities. A choice must be made at the outset of the campaign between the
approach to and form of counterterrorism policies on the one hand, and
the adherence to stated values and practices of the liberal order on the
other. Many dilemmas arise out of the policy choices faced by liberal soci-
eties in responding to terrorism. The choice of insulation, repression, and
the potential for creating egalitarian societies requires the fundamental
compromising of liberal economic and political values. The fact remains
that the United States cannot defend its core values while simultaneously
resorting to the excesses and hysteria of securitization. Rethinking what
is practical and desirable in the Middle East has perpetually brought
190 S t r at e g i e s
paradoxical and contradictory policies into the open. Despite the Arab
revolts, U.S. foreign policy has followed the all- too- familiar zigzag
pattern of supporting democratic change in some countries (Egypt,
Tunisia, and Libya) while at the same time acquiescing to the status quo
in others (Bahrain and Jordan).
In the ensuing chapter, Mahmood Monshipouri and Ali Assareh
turn to the plight of migrant workers in the Persian Gulf region, focus-
ing more specifi cally on the case of the United Arab Emirates (UAE).
Monshipouri and Assareh assert that today’s Dubai, built over decades by
migrant labors, stands out as the center of the Arabian Peninsula’s fi nance
and reexport business. Ironically, these same workers are identifi ed as the
human collateral damage of the global fi nancial crisis that has paralyzed
Dubai’s booming housing and construction industry since 2008. When
combined with food insecurity resulting from the 2008 global food crisis,
the agony of migrant labor working in the UAE becomes striking.
While some nationals have come to view migrant workers as a threat
to the cultural integrity of their nation, others have cautioned against
such skepticism, arguing that large- scale migration regulations must be
put in place to direct and fortify the national economy. The UAE gov-
ernment, Monshipouri and Assareh insist, needs to do a balancing job
of determining the level of imported labors with that of its local needs,
while at the same time maintaining a reasonable capacity to defuse poten-
tial social unrest. The case for government intervention has never been
more essential. The pervasive abuse of the rights of workers has led to
mounting pressure for direct government involvement. A strategy that
seeks to improve standards and augment regulations is the best place
to start. This means seeking more federal control over markets as well
as pursuing mechanisms to provide for the most basic of amenities and
living conditions.
Jess Ghannam examines the relationship between basic health require-
ments and human rights in the context of the occupied territories of
the Palestinians, arguing that the occupation and colonization of Palestine
stands out as an egregious example of how health rights are denied with
devastating consequences for the Palestinians. Ghannam describes the
current context of human rights violations in Palestine and their impact
on health rights, especially since the siege and invasion of Gaza and its
aftermath. What is more troubling is the continuing Israeli impunity and
the failure of international entities— nation- states, NGOs, international
judicial bodies—to hold Israel accountable. Ghannam offers the so- called
boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS) paradigm as one strategy for
bringing justice to Palestine. An international grassroots movement is
emerging for the academic and cultural boycott of Israel (ACBI) as a
method of peaceful resistance to the occupation of Palestine.
S t r at e g i e s 191
4
C h a p t e r 1 0
A Prospect of Democratic
Uprisings in the Arab World
B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
Throughout December 2010 and January 2011, political protest
movements and uprisings shook the Arab world. The revolts began in
Tunisia on December 17, 2010, when Mohammed Bouazizi committed
suicide by setting himself on fi re, in protest against unemployment and
the violation of his dignity. Before a month had passed, on January 14,
2011, the Tunisian people had forced President Zine el- Abidine Ben
Ali out of the country. On January 25, the Egyptian uprising began;
within 18 days, on February 11, President Hosni Mubarak was com-
pelled to relinquish power. And a mere six days later, the uprising of
the Libyan people erupted. In the meantime, the Yemenis had risen
up demanding that President Ali Abdullah Saleh leave, and in Bahrain
political protestors sought to transform the existing autocratic monarchy
into a constitutional monarchy. This same period saw successive political
protests in Syria, Algeria, Morocco, Jordan, and Saudi Arabia, and to a
lesser extent in Sudan and Oman.
It is still too early to proclaim the victory of democracy and human
rights in the region. As I write this, the confl ict continues between
entrenched authoritarian forces in Tunisia and Egypt—where its peoples
managed to remove the heads of the police states—and political youth
forces that only began to fi nd their way to politics in recent years.
There was a virtual consensus among academics, political analysts,
and international, regional, and local human rights groups that the
Arab world is one of the most resistant regions to democratization and
194 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
human rights today. According to Freedom House, not a single country
in the region can be classifi ed as “free” or as having a free press.1 Torture
is widespread in most nations, along with arbitrary arrest, whether sanc-
tioned by some form of emergency law or not. The judiciary lacks even a
modicum of independence, and freedom of expression and assembly are
severely restricted. Even solidarity protests with the Palestinian people are
not immune to suppression.2
Poor scores on indicators for the region are not limited to the fi elds
of human rights and democracy, but extend to areas such as corruption,
academic research, dissemination of information, education, and poverty
(the oil- rich countries are an exception to the poverty factor).3
The three major, global waves of democratization failed to breach
the walls protecting Arab dictatorships; one might even say that a fourth
wave failed as well—the international initiatives for political reform
in the Arab world led by the United States and the EU following the
September 11, 2001, attacks. Indeed, the opposite has occurred. Arab
states have gone on the counteroffensive at home and on the interna-
tional stage, with concerted action in the UN Human Rights Council to
undermine instruments for the international protection of human rights
in cooperation with other dictatorships, starting with member countries
of the Organization of the Islamic Conference.4 After a long struggle to
liberate themselves from foreign occupation, involving great sacrifi ce,
most people of the region successfully achieved independence from for-
eign rule during the 1950s. Nevertheless, they have failed, abjectly and
persistently, to become free people.
The people of the region rid themselves of foreign tyranny only to
fall under various “national” tyrannies. Both types of tyranny were and
are grounded in one basic principle: that these peoples are unqualifi ed
to rule themselves except after some ill- defi ned transitional period, the
end of which no one seems to know. Both systems believe local people
need an overlord; they just differ as to whether this master should be of
foreign or local origin.
But the people in the Arab world have not yielded to national tyranny.
As the joy of national liberation faded, they quickly embarked on a
struggle for a second independence.5 This struggle reached its peak in
2003–2006, when, for the fi rst time since national independence, the
indigenous desire for democracy coincided with a reconsideration by
Europe and the United States of their unconditional support for autocra-
cies in the Arab world. Prompted by the attacks of 9/11, the latter spon-
sored several initiatives to support democratization. This chapter seeks to
explain the root causes of the recent democratic uprisings in the Middle
East and North Africa, as well as to explore the prospects for democratic
change in the region.
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 195
I Political Systems and Human Rights
The deplorable human rights conditions in the region are in large part a
product of the hegemony of systems that are wholly unaccountable to the
people they rule. Although they run the gamut from monarchy to repub-
lic, at heart they embody authoritarianism and autocracy. They employ
virtually the same tactical maneuvers at home with their people as they
do abroad in the international community, using the same self- justifying
political lexicon and public discourse.6
It should be noted in this context that all the monarchies in the
region are absolute monarchies—none are constitutional monarchies;
similarly, most of the republics are based on the absolute dominance of
the executive authority at the expense of the judiciary and legislature, if
any exists at all. Most are fi xed as a one- man rule where the president
enjoys prerogatives no less absolute than those of a king.7 The majority of
presidents of these nations are unelected, with no term limits. They may
be subject to a public referendum as the sole candidate, as was the case
in Syria, Iraq under Saddam Hussein, and Egypt until 2005, but this is
largely a charade. Republican leaders in the Arab world remain in the seat
of power for much longer than their peers in other regions—even longer
than Arab kings themselves. President Muammar al- Qaddafi has ruled
Libya since 1969, while President Ali Abdullah Saleh has ruled Yemen
since 1978. The list goes on: President Mohammed Hosni Mubarak in
Egypt since 1981, President Zine el- Abidine Ben Ali in Tunisia since
1987, and President Omar al- Bashir in Sudan since 1989.
It is remarkable that some of these presidents have remained in power
for long stretches without being compelled to stand in elections or even
receive approval by a popular referendum without competitors (as in the
cases of President al- Qaddafi and President al-Bashir). Some countries have
developed electoral systems that are, at root, mere referendums: elections
are organized for the eternal president and uncrowned king while other
candidates are mere extras chosen by the ruling party, directly or indirectly,
as part of a stage performance with constitutional or legislative trimmings
serving as the costumes (Tunisia, Algeria, and Egypt since 2005).
Since 2000, the Arab world has seen the removal of the major obsta-
cles remaining to a complete merging of monarchy and republicanism as
sons have been groomed to assume their fathers’ presidencies. It began in
Syria when Bashar al- Assad followed his father, Hafez al- Assad, as presi-
dent. Saddam Hussein was preparing one of his sons, Uday or Qusay, to
succeed him, and presidential sons or relatives are already standing in line
in Egypt, Libya, and Yemen.8
Of course there are differences among the monarchies of the region,
particularly in their degree of authoritarianism. There are also a few
196 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
exceptions to the general nature of political systems and the structure
of political authority in Arab republics. For example, this description
does not apply to Sudan in its democratic period, before the military
coup of 1989. Similarly, the sectarian political system of Lebanon does
not allow for such maladies, but it does create other problems that are
no less serious while also holding out the possibility of civil war at a
moment’s notice. The Palestinian Authority is a temporary exception,
but it still embodies the major problems of rule in the Arab world, with
a “secular” face in the West Bank and an “Islamic” face in the Gaza
Strip. The new political regime in Iraq is an exception, too, but for
how long?
The common authoritarian nature of political systems in the Arab
world—and the fact that the prevailing political and religious culture
mimics this authoritarianism—has led to the spread of similar policies
and similarly grave human rights abuses throughout the region. The
common element among most of these systems, with the exception of
Lebanon and more recently Iraq, is the lack of any semblance of balance
between the three state government branches due to the dominance of
the executive branch over the legislative and judicial branches, usually
headed by a king or an absolutist president. In all cases, the security appa-
ratus enjoys enormous infl uence within the executive branch, such that
many of the simplest administrative decisions cannot be made without
fi rst consulting the security authorities. These apparatuses may differ in
their compositional nature between military (Syria, Algeria, Yemen, and
Iraq under Saddam Hussein) and police (Tunisia and Egypt before their
2011 revolution), but they are ultimately alike in the central role they
place in decision making and in their nature as “security.” This includes
the way these forces impact the development of the structure and com-
position of the ruling elite in these countries.9
II State of Human Rights
The dominant role of the executive branch—and the security apparatuses
at the heart of it—has led to a chronic failure to build a nation of rights
and laws. Institutions and mechanisms that are meant to protect the
individual and society from autocracy are used to legitimize a systematic
assault on the liberties and rights of the individual and society, all the
while methodically destroying independent expression and organization
in civil society, which was created in some countries such as Egypt, Syria,
and Iraq during the periods of relative liberalism in the fi rst half of the
twentieth century.
Thus the constitution, legislative process, courts, parliament, and
religious establishments have been used to legitimize methodical
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 197
assaults on the rights of individuals and society. These tools have been
used to institutionalize and normalize such assaults, including the whole
or partial nullifi cation of all means of protection and resistance, such as
political parties, trade and labor unions, NGOs, and independent media.
The cruellest, most extreme forms of violence are used to repress dis-
senters and intimidate society as a whole: arrest, torture, extrajudicial
killing, death sentences issued by sham courts, forced disappearance,
exile, denial of passports after exiting the country or denial of citizenship
to those at home, restrictions on freedom of movement, disruption of
televised, electronic, and mail communication, severance of the means to
a livelihood through dismissal and bans on future employment, fi nancial
strangulation of nonstate workers through the intimidation of their
clients and coworkers, character assassination in the media, fraudulent
and trumped- up charges, kangaroo courts that hand down the desired
verdict and punishment, and much more.10
Main Patterns of Human Rights Violations
Structural Imbalance
Ruling elites in the region tend to use the constitution and legislation as
a tool to systematize the undermining or assault on human rights: con-
stitutions in the Arab world, when they exist, do not recognize a proper
balance or separation of powers, but instead entrench the hegemony of
the executive over the legislative and judicial authorities, granting abso-
lute authority to the king or president.
This chronic structural imbalance is the primary avenue through
which human rights abuses are introduced in each country, to varying
degrees. When real judicial and legislative oversight is absent, it allows the
executive branch to act without accountability in all fi elds, and the harm
it creates goes beyond human rights per se—for example, the enduring
failure of these states to engage in the sound management of human,
material, and cultural resources in general.
Turning to those articles related to human rights in Arab constitutions,
we fi nd that some (in Egypt and Syria, for example) are very benevolent
and guarantee several basic rights. Nevertheless, these constitutional
guarantees have no relation to practice; indeed, they are diametrically
opposed to the reality of human rights in these countries and are often
described as “dead” articles.
This reality is attributable to the lack of political will to comply with
these articles. Although legislation should draw and expound on the
letter and spirit of the constitution, it often acts to restrict the constitu-
tional article itself—that is, a right enshrined in the constitution.11 In the
same context, it is remarkable the ease with which states of emergency
are declared without any objective justifi cation, as well as the scope of
198 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
covering the entire country for an indefi nite period of time. Additionally,
declarations of emergency in Arab countries are accompanied by
emergency laws that do not meet international standards and suspend
vital constitutional guarantees.
Lack of Judicial Oversight
In most Arab nations, the judicial authority enjoys no independence
from the executive authority. The exception—and it is a very limited
exception—is Egypt, where the judicial system still has some degree of
independence preserved from the semi-liberal period in the country’s his-
tory despite coming under successive waves of assault that have gradually
diminished it since the 1952 revolution.12
The lack or severe weakness of an oversight role for the judiciary
strips citizens of the last line of defence in the face of arbitrary authority,
rendering them unable to achieve justice if one or several of their rights
are violated. The ways in which the executive authority encroaches
on the judiciary vary from one country to the next, but the method
is similar in all cases. The most prominent types of assault on judicial
independence are:
1. The formation of exceptional legal or court systems that operate
parallel to the normal judicial system. The most widespread of these
exceptional systems is the military justice system, which is subservient
to military hierarchy and military obedience and discipline. Citizens
are referred to such courts when a “speedy” trial is sought in cases
involving harm to “state security.”
2. The normal judiciary is placed under the control of the Ministry of
Justice, turning judges into government employees who often follow
the directives of the minister of justice, either explicitly or indirectly.
Cases that are sensitive for the government or infl uential fi gures
are assigned to particular judges who will issue the required ruling,
whether it is a heavy sentence or an acquittal.13
3. The public prosecutor is wholly or partially placed under the control
of the security apparatus, whether directly or through the Ministry of
Justice. This dependence makes the interior minister or his represen-
tative the de facto chief prosecutor in all cases, particularly in sensitive
cases involving so- called state security. This means that the prosecu-
tor’s offi ce may be prohibited from investigating “secondary” matters
linked to the case, such as defendants’ complaints of arbitrary arrest
or torture. In all cases, even those not defi ned as matters of national
security, the prosecutor’s offi ce does not follow up complaints about
the conduct of the security apparatus.14
4. The executive authority does not comply with or implement judicial
rulings it does not like (even fi nal, compulsory rulings), and there
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 199
is no instrument to force compliance given the overwhelming
dominance of the executive and the weakness of civil society and
public opinion.15
Lack of Freedom of Expression
The lack of independent means of expression of political parties, trade
and labor unions, NGOs, and written, visual, aural, and electronic media,
as well as the right to strike and assemble, may be wholly or partially
confi scated, or they may be arbitrarily restricted in ways that do not serve
the public interest of individuals or society. This is achieved through con-
stitutional articles, legislation, trials lacking all semblance of due process,
or security repression at various levels.
Religious sentiment may be exploited to legitimize some of these restric-
tions by using the pretext of protection of religions (either the protection
of Islam alone, or the Islamic confession predominant in a particular
country). Intellectuals, academics, and artists pay a heavy price for these
restrictions, and the coercion may sometimes be life endangering.16 The
imposition of arbitrary restrictions on freedom of opinion, thought, and
belief may be prompted by political or religious considerations, but in most
cases religious sentiment is used to justify restrictions that are politically
motivated.
Religious and Ethnic Persecution
The Arab world is familiar with the rule of a minority over the majority
of the population, as was the case in Iraq for several decades when the
regime was based on Sunni rule and discriminated against and persecuted
a majority of citizens (Shiites), in addition to Kurds, an ethnic minority
still belonging to the Sunni confession. A similar situation prevails in
Syria and Bahrain today.
Persecution takes different forms from country to country, including bans
on the practice of some or all religious rites and the establishment of houses
of worship, bars to entrance to senior government positions, restrictions on
the right to change one’s religion (if it means abandoning the religion of the
majority), and restrictions on freedom of expression. The persecution may
also involve violent repression of the minority, including arbitrary arrest and
unfair trials. In exceptional cases, the persecution is likely to become geno-
cidal, as was the case of Iraqi Kurds under Saddam Hussein.
The Practice of Torture
Widespread use of torture and mistreatment are an endemic problem
in the region. This may take place in police stations or unoffi cial and
unrecog nized detention facilities. At times, the fi ercest forms of torture
are employed that cause irreparable harm, partial or total incapacitation,
or even death. The victims may then disappear, their bodies not even
200 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
returned to their families.17 Ending police abuse and emergency laws,
which have for a long time enabled a culture of impunity for security
forces, was a major motivation behind the 2011 revolutions in North
Africa.
III Prevalent Culture or Political Will?
There are numerous explanations for the exceptional situation transpiring
across the entire region and prompt concerns for good governance and
respect for human rights. The most common explanation attributes the
situation to the prevalent culture in the Arab world, particularly the reli-
gious component of culture, given that this is, objectively, the common
link among all residents of the region. This explanation is not just wide-
spread among political analysts and academics; ironically, some offi cials
in Arab governments and the governing elite adopt this “explanation” as
well, for it gives them an excuse for their abject failure to respect human
rights;18 it is the people’s fault, they aver.19 It is they who resist advance-
ment and change, whether because of the adoption of conservative and
Salafi religious thought or due to long- standing social customs that
require much time to overcome.
This analysis, however, fails to explain why advancement or improve-
ment happens in the Arab world in fi elds that run directly counter to
conservative religious thought or deeply rooted social traditions—even in
Saudi Arabia, in the areas of women and child rights, for example. Like-
wise, this view falls short of explaining why there is no improvement in
human rights violations that do not confl ict with the prevailing religious
culture or social mores, including torture.20
The other explanation relates to the political will of the ruling elite,
which promotes some improvements—however limited or partial—to
women’s rights under the patronage of the wives of presidents and kings
in the Arab world as long as they do not subtract from the absolute politi-
cal authority of the ruling elite.
IV The Fourth Wave of Democratization
In the wake of the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the U.S. administration con-
cluded that the lack of democracy in the Arab world had fueled the growth
of terrorism and led to its export to the Western world. As such, several
initiatives were formulated—American, European, and international—that
sought to democratize the region, with a focus on Egypt and Saudi Arabia,
the countries from which the majority of the 9/11 hijackers hailed. These
initiatives included the Broader Middle East and North Africa Initia-
tive (BMENA), the G8 Greater Middle East Initiative (GMEI), and the
European Neighbourhood and Partnership Instrument (ENPI).
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 201
In effect, these initiatives gave political support for the democracy
movement and fostered respect for human rights in the region, con-
tributing to the growing political ferment in Egypt, Syria, Saudi Arabia,
Tunisia, and Lebanon. This moment could even be called the fourth
wave of democratization. However, this wave soon subsided because
from the very moment these successive international initiatives for reform
in the Arab world were announced, they lacked the necessary political
will to drive them resolutely to achieve their goals. They were more like
declarations of political intent than an accurate diagnosis accompanied
by practical plans.
On the internal level, and despite the fact that the forces of reform in
the Arab world have had no respite in calling for reform for four decades
(at least since the military defeat of June 1967), and despite the fact that
one of the main obstacles before these forces was the external support
offered to authoritarian regimes, it has to be admitted that the basic con-
ditions for the internal interaction with the fourth wave of democratiza-
tion have been lacking. This is due to the absence of the elements that
would constitute a social basis for reform.
The ruling regimes in the Arab countries lacked the necessary will to
embark on political reform, and hence all their efforts during 2004–2005
were spent on trying to relieve and absorb external and internal pres-
sures. Much of these efforts also went into exacerbating the internal
contradictions in the other fronts and making an alliance with “the devil”
to forestall reform. The outstanding adroitness with which the Arab rul-
ing regimes, under the leadership of Egypt, managed this decisive crisis
deserves to be an object lesson in the study of crisis management. If
only these regimes had been managing their societies and providing for
its needs with a mere 5 percent of such adeptness, they might not have
needed any reform.21
1 The Main Features of the Stratagems
of the Arab Regimes
Claiming that they have changed their skin, and have decided to
respond positively to the calls of reform. Examples include the Arab
Summit convened in Tunis in May 2004, which included on its agenda
for the fi rst time in the history of Arab Summits the issue of reform
and democracy.22 They also include the Sanaa23 and Alexandria24 con-
ferences for Arab Reform organized by the governments of Yemen
and Egypt, respectively, in January and March 2004. The two confer-
ences adopted certain documents that were discarded into the dustbin
by the Arab governments after they fulfi lled their function, namely,
pacifying and absorbing the pressures of civil society.
●
202 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
Responding favourably to international programs that offer fi nancial
assistance in the fi eld of democracy, and facilitating the convening of
conferences, workshops, and seminars with the participation of elements
from the government, especially in the Gulf States, Jordan, and Egypt.
This latter, however, obstructed the opening of offi ces of international
organizations, but did not stop the U.S. organizations already in exis-
tence in Egypt from receiving funding for democracy training.
Raising the slogan of “cultural specifi city” of Arab societies, and
that reform comes only “from within,” with the aim of checking the
momentum of the international community’s calls for reform from
“outside.” The result was the rejection of all calls for reform whether
from within or elsewhere.
Raising the slogan of gradualism, and arguing that the democratization
process took hundreds of years in European societies. In practice, this
did not lead to taking a single step forward, but rather several steps
back in such countries as Egypt, Syria, and Bahrain.
Trying to undermine the international consensus on the importance
of reform in the Arab world and the methods of bringing it about, by
seeking to widen the gap between the different positions within U.S.
political circles and between the EU and the United States.25 Offering
Europe and the United States more attractive options for servicing their
security interests in the region, especially given the rise of new regional
security challenges in light of the evident failure of the American project
in Iraq, Hamas reaching power in Palestine, the rise of Iran as a regional
power, and the exacerbation of the threat of exporting terrorism. Still,
such offers did not involve any serious contribution to putting an end
to any confl ict. For the common strategy of the Arab regimes has always
been to keep regional confl icts brewing, in order to stir up the national
security concerns at all times at home. They employ such concern with
their peoples and their political, cultural elites in order to keep their
attention focused on the “external threat,” and thus indirectly support
the legitimacy of their continued existence without change. This strat-
egy, however, stops short of letting these confl icts heat up to the extent
of threatening the interests of these regimes.
The skilful use of the Islamists as a scarecrow to dampen the enthusiasm
of the calls for reform, whether by the international community or the
local political class—liberals, leftists, secularists, and nationalists. Egypt
offers the most astute example: the parliamentary election in 2005 took
place for the fi rst time without any member of the Muslim Brothers
in prison. They had been all released several days before the elections
to enjoy, during the fi rst stage and the fi rst round of the second stage,
the best political and security atmosphere in any elections in the past
25 years. This had direct results, as the Muslim Brothers were able to
hold 20 percent of parliamentary seats. It was an excellent tactical win
●
●
●
●
●
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 203
for the Islamists, yet it turned into a strategic win for the Egyptian
regime,26 and other Arab regimes, as it helped settle the debate about
the European and American priorities to the benefi t of regional security
interests while at the expense of democratic reform in the Arab world.
Coordinating with the powerful Israeli lobby in the American Congress
on the grounds of common interests against political reform, especially
since the rise of the Islamists (the common enemy of those regimes and
of Israel’s) in the Egyptian and Palestinian elections.
Stoking religious sentiments against the “crusading” West, includ-
ing seizing the opportunity of the Danish cartoon incident to fan the
fl ames of a wide political, media, and popular mobilization campaign.
Arab governments did not even refrain from facilitating attacks on
embassies and setting them on fi re, all in an attempt to distract atten-
tion from local contradictions and direct it toward the foreign threats
that “target” Islam.27
Raising the fl ying colors of “women’s rights” and organizing a huge
number of meetings and conferences, with the presence of the “fi rst
ladies” of the Arab countries, typically under the auspices of the Arab
League. Making concessions in this regard does not refl ect directly on
the political system and the balance of power. Such concessions also
help reduce the international pressures toward political reform, as they
seem to be getting something at the very least.
Finally, all forms of repression (security, legislative, media, and
administrative) continued unabated during the two years of “reform”
(2004–2005).
2 What Went Wrong with the Arab Political Mobility?
In addition to the astute efforts of regimes in the Arab world, the nonruling
elites in this region were not ready to lead the process of reform. They have
suffered from systematic and organized repression for several consecutive
decades, with the assistance or collusion of the international community.
This has caused them to be quite limited in number, fragile, fi ssured, and
always easy to manipulate politically or through security services.
Democratic reform has never been a solid priority for any signifi cant
sector of these elites. They have been concerned with other priorities, in
particular Palestine, Lebanon, and Iraq, or the confl ict with the West in
general. Hence, it is not a complete surprise to fi nd that certain active
sectors of these elites stand in the frontline of the confrontation with
their own local regimes and ruling forces (on issues of democracy and
human rights). All the while they support the anti-reform regimes and
parties in Syria, Lebanon, Sudan, and other nations, and hold funerals
in several Arab capitals to honor the mass- murdering “martyr” Saddam
Hussein.
●
●
●
●
204 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
The conduct of signifi cant sections of these elites has been morally
abhorrent. They shed tears for the absence of democracy in their coun-
tries while stabbing it in the back in broad daylight in other countries.
They cry in grief for the violated human rights in their countries while
glorifying mass murderers in others, even raising them to the level of his-
toric heroes. They appealed for the help of the international community
to put an end to collective rape of Muslim women in Bosnia while still
found it deplorable that the world rallied to help the Muslim women who
were being raped in Darfur. These views are contradictory, hypocritical,
and lacking in any moral appeal, and stand as one of the biggest obstacles
to the possibility of enlarging the social base for reform.
One of the main weaknesses in the constitution of these elites is the
frailty of the human rights component in the outlook of some of their
sectors. This has led some of them to slide into embracing some forms
of the governmental anti-human rights discourse, or to refuse to include
in their platforms a number of vital human rights issues such as the
issues of religious and ethnic minorities, women’s rights, the freedoms of
thought, beliefs, and literary and artistic creativity, which, in turn, has had
a negative effect on their ability to widen their bases of social support. An
interesting irony in this regard is the “Kefaya” movement in Egypt. This
movement steered clear of including the legitimate and vital demands of
the Copts in their platform. The choice of a Copt at its head (a develop-
ment the likes of which Egypt has never known) did not succeed in
bridging this gap or attracting the support of Copts.
The chronic failure of these elites to reach a consensual and creative
solution for the issue of the relation between religion and state played an
important role in making democracy seem in the view of some sections
of these elites a danger no less menacing than the persistence of the cur-
rent despotic regimes. More so even, given that democracy could actually
bring the Islamists to power. An example of this is the position taken by
sections of the leftist, secular, and liberal elites in Algeria, Tunisia, and
Egypt (we can add the Copts as a group from the latter). They have
come to fear the consequences of “democracy” more than those of the
continuation of despotism.28
This pattern of contradictions and paradoxes has always made it
possible for the ruling regimes to manipulate, politically and through
security services, vital sections of these elites, in order to set them against
each other to create a confi dence gap between them. This lack of trust
has made it impossible for them to forge a strategic consensus that is able
to endure for even a short period of time. In fact, the ruling elite have
always been able to form tactical short- term alliances with one section or
another of the nonruling elite to go against the others.
Because of this weak stand on human rights, political and intellectual
fragility, and political splintering, there has been no momentum toward
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 205
democracy from within. Instead, there has only been romantic yearning
for democracy expressed loudly and boisterously, yet without the willing-
ness to offer the necessary price and sacrifi ce. It would be a mistake to
reduce this to the individual readiness to sacrifi ce one’s life or security; it
is rather gauged as the willingness to pay the political price. That is, to
sacrifi ce for the profound belief in the priority of reform any other local,
regional, or international considerations, and exert the willingness to
make mutual concessions between the nonruling elites in order to be able
to form a viable and useful number in the political equations that would
be able to break from the status quo, however limited, to cause a crack
in the ruling elite’s monopoly of power and wealth.
The young generation and their political organizations are fully aware
of this. Their movements were formed outside the orbit of traditional
political elites—indeed, in opposition to them—taking a critical, radical
posture toward the traditional opposition parties from the outset, both in
terms of their ideologies and their methods of action. Opposition parties
themselves (in those countries where parties are permitted) also assumed
a stance toward these groups early on, fl uctuating between condescension
and outright political hostility. In Egypt in particular, some opposition
parties were more openly critical of youth groups than of the regime and
its media. Nevertheless, it is a mistake to reduce this political confl ict to
a generational confl ict. Youth groups were in agreement with and even
maintained alliances with small parties that took a serious critical stance
toward regimes. This same alliance was seen between these groups and
human rights organizations.
Youth political groups successfully engendered a different political
discourse, slogans capable of mobilizing and attracting the solidarity of a
massive number of citizens, and methods of action that fully incorporated
the advances of this era. These are the primary reasons they outmatched
not only regimes, but also traditional opposition parties, including those
with whom they have ideological affi nities.
V Democratic Transformation Process
The two most widely cited central features of human rights conditions
in the Arab world before the 2011 revolutions were: (1) authoritarian
systems shored up by strong security apparatuses that were unaccount-
able before the law, and (2) a fragile, distorted civil society with no
room for advancement that systematically crushed emerging demo-
cratic tendencies over the long term. While the Tunisian and Egyptian
people did succeed in removing regime heads and a great many of their
supporters, this does not mean that the deeply rooted elements that
fostered and entrenched a classic police state in both nations will be
eliminated in the near future. The fact that neither “revolution” was
206 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
based on well- established political movements or parties with deep roots
in society raises questions about the current horizon for change. Are we
moving toward a genuine democracy? Or will this end in merely a cor-
rective “revolution,” with the regime shedding its most corrupt leaders
or those incapable of evolving, along with a few “extreme” practices that
only served to increase the number of discontents across societies? For
now, this remains an open question.
Conclusion
The spread of modernity and modernizing forces in a society is an impor-
tant factor. It is likely to push a country toward the fi rst possibility—that
is, a gradual democratic transition. This seems more likely in Tunisia,
particularly since the Tunisian army has no experience with politics and
it will be some time before Islamists are able to recover their dynamism.
Egypt, by contrast, may be headed toward the second possibility. Modern
forces are weak there; the military establishment has been the main prop
of the regime since July 1952, and organized Islamist groups alternate
between support for democracy and human rights and a conservative,
hard- lined, and hostile stance.
Moreover, the past 60-year history of Egypt indicates that Islamist
groups possess an infi nite readiness to make deals with regimes at the
expense of basic democratic principles. To be sure, both countries may
suffer a setback as the balance of power tips toward traditional forces and
the nascent youth forces that carried out the “revolution” may prove
unable to completely uproot their now impotent regimes to enable revo-
lutionary forces to take power.
Notes
1. Freedom House, “Freedom of the Press,” 2009 annual report.
http://www.freedomhouse.org/uploads/fop09/FoP2009_Regional_
Rankings . Last accessed on 20 March 2011. See also Freedom
House, “Freedom in the World 2010: Erosion of Freedom Intensifi es,”
pp. 7–12. http://www.freedomhouse.org/uploads/fi w10/FIW_2010_
Tables_and_Graphs . Last accessed on 21 March 2011.
2. “Bastion of Impunity, Mirage of Reform,” Human Rights in the Arab
World, 2009 annual report, Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies,
December 2009, pp. 36–46. http://www.cihrs.org/Images/ArticleFiles/
Original/485 . Last accessed on 21 March 2011.
3. “Overcoming Barriers: Human Mobility and Development,” Human
Development Report 2009, United Nations Development Programme
(UNDP), 2009, pp. 213–217. http://hdr.undp.org/en/media/HDR_
2009_EN_Complete . Last accessed on 2 March 2011.
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 207
4. Bahey eldin Hassan, “The Dilemma of Human Rights between a Lack of
Political Will and the Emerging Forms of Resistance,” in From Exporting
Terrorism to Exporting Repression, the First Annual Report on the state of
human rights in the Arab Region, Cairo Institute for Human Rights Stud-
ies, 2008, p. 22. http://www.cihrs.org/Images/ArticleFiles/Original/
382 . Last accessed on 23 March 2011.
5. The “second independence” is an expression used by some African move-
ments calling for democracy in the late 1980s and the early 1990s. After-
wards, it was used by a Tunisian thinker as a title for one of his books on the
signifi cance of democracy in the Arab world. See “The Second Independence:
Towards an Initiative for Political Reform in the Arab World,” adopted by
The First Civil Forum and organized by the Cairo Institute for Human
Rights Studies (CIHRS) in Beirut, in cooperation with the Association
for Defending Rights and Freedoms (ADL) and the Palestinian Human
Rights Organization (Rights). (2004). http://www.cihrs.org/Images/
ArticleFiles/Original/520 . Last accessed on 25 March 2011.
6. Ibid.
7. For Egypt as an example, see Bahey eldin Hassan, “The Human Rights
Dilemma in Egypt: Political Will or Islam?” in Beitraege zum Islamischen
Recht [Contributions to Islamic Law] Focusing on Human Rights and
Islam, ed. Hatem Elliesie. Bern, Berlin, Bruxelles, Frankfurt am Main,
New York, Oxford, Wien: Peter Lang Publishing Group, 2010.
8. Political observers in Tunisia thought that Zein el- Abidin Ben Ali, who
was elected to a fi fth term in 2009, was preparing his son- in- law to suc-
ceed him, given the young age of his own four- year- old son. In Algeria,
the president’s brother is the main political candidate to succeed the ailing
president Boutafl ica.
9. As the revolutions of the two countries are uncompleted and there is
ongoing internal struggle between the old and new forces, it is too early
to make a concrete judgment at the moment of writing this chapter.
10. Report Summary: General State of Human Rights in the Arab Region,
“Roots of Unrest,” Human Rights in the Arab World, 2010 annual
report, Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, March 2011.
11. Bahey eldin Hassan, “Political Civil War,” in A Nation without Citizens,
Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2007. http://www.cihrs.
org/Arabic/NewsSystem/Articles/28.aspx. Last accessed on 23 March
2011.
12. Nabil Abdel- Fattah, “State, the Judiciary and Political Reform,” in
Judges and Political Reform, ed. Nabil Abdel- Fattah, Cairo Institute for
Human Rights Studies, 2006, p. 15. http://www.cihrs.org/Arabic/
News System/Articles/46.aspx.
13. Mahmoud Reda Khudayri, “How the Act No. 46 of 1972 Legalizes
Attacking the Judicial Independence”, in Judges and Political Reform,
ed. Nabil Abdel- Fattah. Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2006.
pp. 111–112.
14. Abdullah Khalil, “The Public Prosecution: An Attorney Acting for
Society or a Subordinate to the Executive Authority?” in Judges and
Political Reform, ed. Nabil Abdel- Fattah. Cairo Institute for Human
208 B a h e y e l d i n H a s s a n
Rights Studies, 2006, pp. 45–46, 54–64. See also fi rst Annual Report
of the National Council for Human Rights 2004–2005, 2005, pp. 242.
http://nchregypt.org/en/images/fi les/1st%20Annual%20Report .
Last accessed on 23 March 2011.
15. Negad Bur’ai Bur’ai, “Justice Despised: The Government Does Not
Comply with Judicial Rulings,” in Judges and Political Reform, ed. Nabil
Abdel- Fattah. Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, 2006, Motives
and Results,” Judges, and Political Reform, pp. 222–224.
16. For Egypt as an example, Kareem A’mer: Blogger; sentenced to four years
in prison for defaming the President of Egypt and inciting hate to the
Islamic religion. (“Bastion of Impunity, Mirage of Reform,” p. 9.) Last
accessed on 26 March 2011.
17. A Joint Report by the Coalition of Egyptian Human Rights Non-
Governmental Organizations (NGOs) on the Universal Periodic Review
(UPR) of Egypt. http://afteegypt.org/en/index.php?newsid=28. Last
accessed on 26 March 2011.
18. See the report of the Egyptian Government to the United Nations,
National report submitted in accordance with paragraph 15(a) of the
annex to Human Rights Council resolution 5/1–“Egypt,” 8–19 February
2009. See also comments by the Coalition of Egyptian Human Rights
Non- Governmental Organizations (NGOs) on the Universal Periodic
Review (UPR) of Egypt, “Human Rights in Egypt: A History of Oppres-
sion, Prevarication and Duplicity,” Cairo Institute for Human Rights
Studies, pp. 43–52.
19. For more details, see Universal Periodic Review–Egypt. http://www.ohchr.
org/EN/HRBodies/UPR/PAGES/EGSession7.aspx. Last accessed on
27 March 2011.
20. “When the Oppressed Are Used as Shields: Women’s Rights Up for
Negotiation,” Bastion of Impunity, Mirage of Reform, pp. 193–205.
21. Bahey eldin Hassan, “Political Civil War,” in Nation without Citizens,
pp. 7–10.
22. Tunisia Declaration of the 16th Arab Summit, May 22–23, 2004. http://
www.arabsummit.tn/ar/declaration.htm. Last accessed on 26 March
2011.
23. Sana’a Declaration on Democracy, Human Rights and the Role of the
International Criminal Court, January 10–12, 2004. http://www.pogar.
org/publications/reforms/documents/sanaa-declaration04 . Last
accessed on 26 March 2011.
24. Alexandria Statement, “Arab Reform Issues: Vision and Implementa-
tion,” March 13–14, 2004. http://www.pogar.org/themes/reforms/
documents/alexandria . Last accessed on 26 March 2011.
25. See, for example, President Mubarak’s speech at Arab Reform: Vision and
Implementation, Alexandra Conference, March 2004. http://www.
arabicnews.com/ansub/Daily/Day/040313/2004031330.html. Last
accessed on 27 March 2011.
26. The author surmised that the Muslim Brothers’ win of 20 percent of the
seats in parliament was a plan hatched by the regime upon realizing “its
overriding interest in having the group by its side—the most threatening
A P r o s p e c t o f D e m o c r at i c U p r i s i n g s 209
and only alternative left after all other alternatives had been crushed, the
latest being presidential candidate Ayman Nour” (see Bahey eldin Hassan,
“Political Civil War,” p. 11). Yet, Mehdi Akef, the general guide of the
Muslim Brothers during the 2005 parliamentary elections later revealed
that this concession to the Muslim Brothers came as part of a deal with the
regime. See Al Masry Al Youm, Interview with Mehdi Akef, October 24,
2009. http://www. almasry- alyoum.com/article2.aspx?ArticleID=
230596&IssueID=1568. Last accessed on 27 March 2011.
27. The cartoons were published in August of 2006 but the fi rst popular
protest took place in January 2007.
28. Bahey eldin Hassan,“Political Civil War,” A Nation without Citizens,
pp. 13–15.
4
C h a p t e r 1 1
Counterterrorism, Nation-
building, and Human Rights in
the Middle East: Complementary
or Competing Interests?
M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h t a r i
Nation- building has been a steady and conspicuous feature of U.S.
foreign policy since the end of World War II, but since 9/11, it has
become directly linked to the so- called war on terror. While the lan-
guage of nation- building has been embraced by some policymakers who
view it as an effective measure to fi ght terrorism, it has by now become
abundantly clear that the imposition of altering alien political and legal
structures is a problematic process at best that may yield an undesirable
outcome. This is especially true regarding countries that are unwilling
to easily accept the whims of foreign governments as their own. There
has emerged a fundamental question about whether nation- building has
become the ideology and tool of dominant political players. Similarly,
invoking the use of force in the name of democracy promotion has
become just as controversial.
The United States faces a crisis of international legitimacy that is
adversely affecting the successful outcome of its foreign policy. Promoting
democracy and security interests can often be contradictory objectives. At
the same time, wars generally come at tremendous human cost and can
hardly be considered a foolproof method of producing democratic regimes.
This is largely due to the simple fact that the logic of force and occupation
runs counter to the process and tenor of democratization. For one, the
212 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
logic of force is foreign and, at least at the outset, (often justifi ably) treated
as exogenous and suspect. For another, democratization should nominally
manifest the will of the people within a given polity. For a foreign occupier
to appreciate and take into account the tenor of the population, they must
fi rst pay some attention to the ambitions of the conquered population. As
in Afghanistan and Iraq, the fi rst goal of any broad political salience may
be to remove the occupiers. The wisdom of military intervention and the
promotion of democracy continue to be at odds.
Beyond the exigencies of “humanitarian intervention,” and “the
responsibility to protect,” moral and ethical justifi cations for military
intervention under the rubric of nation- building have fallen by the
wayside. It may be the case that investing in nation- building and peace-
building is an effective way to combat terrorism, but postconfl ict societ-
ies face a bewildering array of socioeconomic and political diffi culties for
which the military occupation cannot provide reliable solutions, and in
fact may be the overt cause of many of these issues.
Since 2001, a plethora of political, ethical, and institutional challenges
have complicated Washington’s nation- building efforts, as has been pain-
fully revealed by the U.S. military intervention and reconstruction of
Afghanistan and Iraq. While the debate over counterterrorism measures
remains unsettled, it is clear that efforts aimed at promoting sustainable
methods of peaceful, democratic change have received more attention
in the face of the 2011 Arab awakening in the Middle East and North
Africa. The departure of Tunisia’s and Egypt’s long- ruling authoritarian
presidents has exposed the long- term costs associated with supporting
repressive yet pro- West regimes.
Some studies have shown that the means used to conduct the “global
war on terrorism” threaten the core concept that they are supposedly
defending liberal values. The pursuit of the global war on terrorism
invariably generates profoundly diffi cult choices for societies espousing
liberal values and identities. A choice must be made at the outset of the
campaign between the approach to and the form of counterterrorism
policies on the one hand, and the adherence to asserted values and prac-
tices of the liberal order on the other.1 Many dilemmas arise out of the
policy choices faced by liberal societies in responding to terrorism. The
choice of insulation, repression, and the potential for creating egalitar-
ian societies requires the fundamental compromising of liberal economic
and political values. Can the United States defend its core values without
resorting to the excesses and hysteria of securitization? Rethinking what
is feasible and desirable in the Middle East has perpetually brought para-
doxical and contradictory policies into the open. Despite the Arab revolts,
U.S. foreign policy has followed the all- too- familiar and inconsistent
pattern of supporting democratic change in one country (Egypt) while at
the same time acquiescing to the status quo in another (Bahrain).
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 213
By invading Iraq on the pretext that the country’s leaders had
connections with al- Qaeda, followed by widespread prisoners abuses in
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo Bay, U.S. foreign- policy makers came face
to face with the contradictions inherent in the asserted task of promoting
democracy, security, and stability in the region. This chapter begins with
an attempt to lay bare constraints and dilemmas of the Bush Doctrine.
Its purpose is twofold: (1) to examine the ways in which counterterror-
ism measures undermine democracy promotion in the Middle East and
North Africa; (2) to explain why military intervention and occupation
are unjustifi able and ill- conceived methods of confronting terrorism
and militancy in the region. U.S. foreign- policy makers must develop a
better understanding of the nature of regional aspirations for peaceful,
democratic change if they intend to play any constructive role in future
events there. Except for cases of clear humanitarian motives like that of
Libya, the United States must focus on enhancing basic rights rather than
engaging in military incursions.
U.S. Foreign Policy: Trade- offs
and Paradoxes
Since the second half of the twentieth century, U.S. foreign policy toward
the Middle East has centered on protecting the oil fl ow from the area,
supporting Israel and the region’s pro- Western governments, and main-
taining political stability. Today, this list has been expanded to include
other objectives such as combating terrorism, brokering a truce between
the Palestinians and Israelis, as well as preventing the spread of nuclear
weapons.
At present, the Middle East is home to some of the most repres-
sive regimes, an oppressive Israeli occupation, religious persecution
and intolerance, human rights abuses, economic disparities, unelected
governments, and corrupt regimes. The Arab defeat in the wars with
Israel and the failure of parliamentary democracy to make ruling elites
and the military electorally accountable have precipitated a deepening
sense of crisis in many Middle Eastern societies, playing an important
role in prompting the resurgence of political Islam by the late 1970s.2
The resurgence of Islam has come to be seen as a potent backlash against
the failure of secular states and secular ideologies such as liberal nationa-
lism and Arab socialism, and against secular processes and institutions.
Following the Soviet withdrawal from Afghanistan in 1988, the
United States abandoned its support for the war- torn country. During the
1990s, the United States had no reconstruction program for post- Soviet
Afghanistan. As a result, chaos and poverty prevailed throughout the
country, providing a fertile ground for the Taliban to rule.3 In the midst
of Cold War thinking, the pretense for occupation was confronting and
214 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
deterring communism; in the post–Cold War era, that fi xation has been
replaced with the Islamic threat. In the aftermath of the terrorist attacks
of September 11, law enforcement’s scrutiny of Muslims in America has
in many ways rendered the war against terrorism as a war against Muslim
populations. The U.S. foreign- policy makers have warned against such
proverbial fault lines, as they have shifted their focus to the threats posed
by radical Islamic movements. In the wake of this tragedy, two central
questions arise: (1) how can global terrorism be explained? And (2) what
is the best way to prevent global terrorism and ultimately eradicate it?
In the sections that follow, we will attempt to explain how U.S. foreign
policy is in disarray, in its attempt to balance its hegemonic and espoused
ethical components in the age of terror.
Why Did the Bush Doctrine Fail?
A new doctrine of preemption, manifested in the invasion of Iraq, marked
a drastic departure from the conventional U.S. foreign policy employed
since the end of World War II—that is, containment and deterrence. This
doctrine, generally known as “preemptive or anticipatory self- defense,”
was premised on a willingness to act unilaterally when/if necessary as well
as an overriding sense that peace and stability require the United States
to assert its primacy in world politics.4
The doctrinal basis for a new American unilateralism was intent on
undermining the postwar consensus. The doctrine had two related parts:
the unfettered use of American power abroad coupled with a radical
exemptionalism of the United States from the international normative
order and institutions.5 Many experts did not support the idea of preemp-
tion. Most international lawyers argued that preemptive or anticipatory
self- defense, if it was to be legitimized, must be strictly limited to cases
involving an obvious and imminent attack that cannot be otherwise
averted. Richard Falk argued that there was no plausible threat directed at
the United States and no link to the al- Qaeda organization. Arguing that
there was no factual plausibility based on imminence and necessity, Falk
asserted that the war in Iraq violated international law, the UN Charter,
and the moral and religious guidelines contained in the just war doctrine.6
In sum, the Bush administration failed to show that Iraq had both the
capability of harming the United States and a serious intent to do so. The
abstract logical possibility that Saddam Hussein could have transferred
weapons of mass destruction to stateless terrorists was not enough.7
Until the recent wave of uprisings in the region, feelings of impo-
tence, humiliation, and frustration continue to pervade much of the
Middle East, especially after the invasion and occupation of Iraq. This
has been complicated by the region’s authoritarian governments that
practice widespread repression and give people little opportunity to
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 215
participate in their own governance. The oft- repeated general point
is that terrorism springs up in an atmosphere where opportunities for
democratic participation are lacking and there is a broad sense of inter-
national and internal injustice. Countering terrorism entails attenuating
the rage that it fuels, and hence the argument for democratic transforma-
tion of these societies.8
The Bush administration decided to support nation- building and
democracy- promotion efforts in a region that has a dismal human rights
record in the name of both fi ghting terrorism and pushing forth an
American crafted “Freedom Agenda.”9 With almost 350 million people,
the Arab states of the Middle East and North Africa included, prior to
the 2011 Arab revolts, no “free” country. Free elections are not allowed
in most of the Arab world. The region’s nondemocratic regimes have
proven to be shaky in the face of the 2011 Arab revolts. Some of these
states have survived through dependency on either oil or security rents
for their revenues and can thus be termed rentier states (Algeria, Bahrain,
Iraq, Kuwait, Libya, Oman, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, and the United
Arab Emirates). Others have relied on foreign aid (Egypt, Jordan, and
Yemen). Clearly, oil revenues have had “an incredibly corrupting infl u-
ence,” rendering these states less accountable to public pressure and
demands.10
An increasing body of evidence points to governance failures among
the rentier states. These states are in fact the least advanced in observ-
ing civil liberties and political rights. Their citizens are among the least
able—when compared to other transitional states of the former Soviet
Union and Eastern Europe—to participate in the selection of their
governments. Their media are not independent. Limited successes are
largely confi ned to the rule of law and, to a lesser extent, control of
corruption.11 Although these countries control about half of the world’s
oil reserves, the region has higher unemployment and poverty than
much of developing countries. Unemployment averages 15 percent and
one out of fi ve people live on less than $2 per day.12
The utilization of Arab women’s capabilities through political and eco-
nomic participation remains the lowest in the world as evidenced by the
very low proportion of women in government both at the ministerial level
and the number of seats in parliament held by women. Gender inequality
in education and economic activity is widespread throughout the Middle
East. It should be noted, however, that Arab countries have made great
strides in girls’ education. Female literacy rates have increased threefold
since 1970, and female primary and secondary enrollment rates have more
than doubled. Despite this progress, female enrollment rates are still lower
than those for males.13
Moreover, Arab women remain marginalized and underutilized
in all sectors of the economy and society, notably in terms of their
216 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
economic, intellectual, and leadership potential.14 Of the 25 percent of
the unemployed, 82 percent are women. They are the most likely to be
deprived of access to health and educational services because of fi nancial
pressures on families.15 It is signifi cant also to underscore the importance
of the Middle Eastern region and why it fi gures prominently in the strate-
gic calculation of the United States, the European Union (EU), and East
Asia. The Persian Gulf region and the Caspian Basin together have by far
the world’s largest reserves of oil and natural gas. Since reliable access to
reasonably priced energy is vitally signifi cant to global powers, Zbigniew
Brzezinski saw “strategic domination over the area, even if cloaked by
cooperative arrangements” as “a globally decisive hegemonic asset.”16
Indigenous Democratic Transitions:
A New Era for the Region and
U.S. Foreign Policy?
The recent uprisings in North Africa and the Middle East constitute
one of the most important global political developments since the fall of
the Berlin Wall. These popular uprisings after decades of repression have
shaken the Arab world and have the potential to drastically shape the
politics of the region. While these uprisings, as Andrew J. Bacevich notes,
have demonstrated that the people of the Middle East and North Africa
have “an organic capacity to engineer change themselves,”17 it is too
early to know how far they will go in introducing fundamental changes in
political structures and processes. Despite this uncertainty, the emergence
of a new era for both the region and U.S. foreign policy in the Middle
East is virtually undeniable.
Far from being called a social movement at this stage, these uprisings
are largely street protests emblematic of frustration spontaneously fueled
by failed economic and political systems. This moment in history is about
the Arab street and the Arab world, which have become much more
crowded and far more destitute than years past. Our analytical gaze thus
must be focused on the causes of economic frustration and resentments
toward Arab governments. One of the most inspiring characteristics of
these uprisings has been the peaceful nature of their demand for demo-
cratic change that stands in stark contrast to the violent terrorist inclina-
tions imagined by many in the United States.
The history of peaceful democratic change since the opening of the
Berlin Wall points to mixed results. Experts have held that democratic
changes can and must be initiated by civil society “from below” (as in
the cases of Poland, Hungary, and former Czechoslovakia), or initiated
by the state “from above” (as in the case of Argentina, Brazil, Uruguay,
Chile, and Turkey since 1983). In some countries, internal bargain-
ing, which involves a long- drawn- out process of give- and- take between
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 217
competing political groups, has proven effective. The examples of the
Philippines, Nicaragua, Mexico, Lebanon, and Iran fi t this model of
democratic transition. Clearly, we need to look at factors other than reli-
gion to fully comprehend the eruption of these uprisings.
It is important to examine the resurgence of multiple new, shifting
identities among the youth of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA)
as key contributions to the reconstruction of broader societal identities,
as well as new demands on governments. Since the 1980s, young
Muslims have struggled to come to grips with the massive changes in
world politics—changes associated with globalization and the so- called
third wave of democratization across Europe, Asia, and Latin America.
Witnessing these movements, the Muslim youth have tried to fi nd a way
to reconcile their interests and values with modern moral orders and legal
principles that are based on accountability, transparency, and participa-
tory politics. Islamic feminists and secular feminists have also reasserted
their identities and interests, as they have become further concerned with
being in control of their own lifestyles as well as politics. Increasingly,
youth and their organizations have insisted on a human rights framework
that is both legally guaranteed and morally acceptable.
The Muslim world’s social realities have resulted in a rising and vibrant
forum for positive change. A combination of youth, readily accessible
technology, and economic and political grievances has led to the emer-
gence of a young and educated generation who could potentially cause
further social turmoil and political instability. Some factors that contrib-
uted to the Tunisian uprisings—such as high unemployment rates, high
prices of food, falling real wages, and police brutality—are widespread
in the region, from oil- rich Libya to impoverished Yemen. On balance,
however, Tunisians are better educated and more urbanized than their
neighbors. With 7.2 percent of their GDP spent on education, Tunisians
are steadily ranked among the most modernized countries in the Middle
East and North Africa.18 Ironically, but understandably, the question
persists: Why did the revolution occur in Tunisia? While it is too early
to authoritatively answer this question, it is clear that the answer is not
because it took inspiration from American nation- building efforts in Iraq.
The new Iraq, which was supposed to be a model for the transformation
of political landscape in the Middle East, has proven to be a failure.
In fact, the role of outside powers that prefer stability over the uncer-
tainty of democratization generally has had the opposite effect, serving as
a barrier to political liberalization. In many situations, allied leaders’ polit-
ical survival trumps human rights. Leaders are typically caught between
popular identity and structural constraints associated with external forces,
making trade- offs among democracy promotion and other strategic
goals. Concerned with stability over all else, U.S. foreign- policy makers
have historically prioritized order above democracy and the realization of
218 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
human rights. Convinced that the great nemesis of democracy is disorder,
they have argued that forcing rapid political change in the Middle East
would be diffi cult because it challenges entrenched power. While the Bush
administration learned, however grudgingly, that democracy at gunpoint
was unlikely to unleash a tsunami of democratic values throughout the
Middle Eastern region, the real question that remains is for the Obama
administration: Will the United States follow the lead of Arab youth and
make support for indigenous democratization efforts a credible pillar of
U.S. foreign policy for years to come?
U.S. Hegemony and Democracy
Following U.S. interventions in Afghanistan and Iraq, many observers
have raised the issue of whether U.S. actions taken in the name of the
“war on terrorism” are indeed wars for empire. Although the Unites
States quite arguably had a legitimate claim for self- defense in attacking
al- Qaeda infrastructure in Afghanistan, the invasion of Iraq was more
reminiscent of imperium.19 Further it has been argued that U.S. inter-
ventions have never lived up to their pronounced intentions and that
the politics of humanitarianism have rendered relief agencies and other
NGOs subordinate to state interests and power in Kosovo, Afghanistan,
and Iraq.20 Key lessons that can be drawn from the United States’
recent interventions in the Middle East include the premise that fi ghting
terrorism, advancing hegemony, and promoting democracy are generally
neither consistent nor morally justifi able. In the new era punctuated by
recent Arab uprisings, it is no longer possible to rule over empires, as was
historically the case, with absolute control and domination.
Appraising the role that youth spike played in 2011 uprisings in
the Middle East and North Africa, one observer argues—regardless of
ideological struggles—these rebellions were and to a signifi cant degree
are about jobs and the fact remains that youth without job equals social
instability. U.S. foreign- policy priorities must, therefore, be accorded to
supporting real economic development that stabilizes volatile states and
enables democratic freedoms. Since countries with demographic youth
bulge and no economic growth are becoming increasingly ungovernable,
one of the most effective ways to minimize future global security risks is
to target self- sustaining economic development on the ground, not laser-
guided bombs from the air.21
The far more complicated question here is whether the United States
is willing to forgo simultaneously pursuing goals of combating terrorism
and promoting democracy. “No American government,” Robert Jervis
notes, “has been willing to sacrifi ce stability in order to further democ-
racy in countries such as Algeria, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, and Pakistan, and
at some point [President] Bush is likely to make the same choice.”22
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 219
The Iraqi regime was advertised as a way to bring democracy and
stability to the Middle East, discourage tyrants and energize reformers
throughout the world, and demonstrate the American willingness
to provide a high degree of what it considers world order, whether
others like it or not, then, as part of a larger project.23 The reality is
that democracies in the Middle East will likely challenge U.S. policies
(and what are understood in Washington as strategic interests) at key
junctures, but the ability and self- determination to do this is precisely
what may render the United States safer from terrorist attacks. This is
because the wave of democratic and rights- based aspirations seizing
the Middle East serves to marginalize and draw out terrorist or radical
Islamist ideologies.
The fact remains that in the key Arab states of Jordan, Egypt, and
Saudi Arabia, cooperation with the United States could not be sustained
if the public had greater infl uence. Pointing to a key internal tension,
Jervis elsewhere writes that “the Bush doctrine combines a war on ter-
rorism with the strong assertion of American hegemony.”24 Protection
from terror and asserting hegemony, Jervis continues, are contradictory
goals. To reduce terror, the United States should seek a reduced role in
world politics.
Despite considerable U.S. support to the Pakistani military, some
experts observe, Washington holds relatively little leverage to infl uence
events in Pakistan. Since 2001, the United States has given Pakistan
more than $10 billion in assistance, channeled largely through the
Pakistani military. And yet, the United States “has not made the neces-
sary commitment to solidify the relationship for the long term.”25 Less
than 10 percent of U.S. assistance goes toward development and humani-
tarian purposes. Only $64 million per year is earmarked for education of
more than 55 million school- aged children. This amounts to $1.16 per
child per year.26 U.S. assistance has been the least concerned with the
long- term domestic stability of the country. The seemingly unconditional
nature of U.S. budget aid in the case of Pakistan demonstrates that eco-
nomic goals have been largely subservient to broader U.S. political and
military objectives.27
Outsourcing Torture and Privatizing War
A contemporary discussion of nation- building, human rights, and terro-
rism would not be complete without some mention of the human rights
crisis presented by the post-9/11 era. During this era, grave human rights
violations have been committed in the name of democracy promotion,
human rights, and fi ghting terrorism. The Bush administration’s war on
terrorism has had a twofold effect. First, it has threatened the realm of
civil rights, due process, and the right to privacy within the United States.
220 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
Second and perhaps more relevant to the current discussion, it has led
to mass detentions, the use of military tribunals, and the use of torture.
In the areas of investigation and prosecution, the federal government
engaged in widespread practices that ran counter to liberal demo-
cratic values underlying the American political and judicial processes.
Such acts were in clear violation of the civil rights and freedoms of
noncitizens. These included, but were not limited to, applying extended
detentions and interrogations, adopting expanded surveillance powers
and tools, instituting fi nancial strictures and rewards, altering the judicial
system, and requiring greater information- sharing between agencies.28
Along the same lines, shortly after September 11, 2001, the U.S. Con-
gress adopted Public Law 107–56: “Uniting and Strengthening America
by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct
Terrorism,” also known as the USA Patriot Act of 2001.
Extended detention and questioning interrupted due process of law,
as many suspects were held incommunicado. Additionally, a Bureau of
Prisoners (BOP) regulation authorized the BOP and the Department
of Justice (DOJ) to monitor communications between the suspects and
their attorneys. The application of this practice in certain cases amounted
to harassment of an ethnic minority. By January 2002, of the more than
1,200 detainees, only a few were considered material witnesses, with
others held on minor immigration violations. This amounted to a clear
violation of equal protection under the law and a discriminatory practice
based on religion and ethnicity.29
What made the issue of detainees particularly alarming was that
the two options available to them were: (1) hold them indefi nitely or
(2) subject them to a military tribunal in which secret evidence and
evidence obtained through coercive means such as torture could be
used against them. The detainment camps at Guantanamo Bay have
drawn strong criticism both inside and outside of the United States
for detainment of prisoners without trial and widespread allegations
of torture. The detainees held by the United States Army have been
classifi ed as “enemy combatants,” who are not entitled to the protec-
tions of the Geneva Conventions. Some are subject to the practice of
indefi nite detention, others exposed to the fl agrant and widespread
abuse of their religious beliefs, including fl ushing the Qur’an down the
toilet. Many detainees have fi led petitions that the conditions under
which they are being held are inhumane. The pervasive pattern and
practice of abuse point to direct connections with offi cial policies of
the government.
The U.S. government argues that trial review of detainees has never
been afforded to prisoners of war, and that it is reasonable for “enemy
combatants” to be detained until the cessation of hostilities. Critics argue
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 221
that the detainees’ status as a potential or active terrorist have not been
defi ned in any ratifi ed treaties. The Bush administration has considered
al- Qaeda and Taliban fi ghters as “unlawful enemy combatant”—not
uniformed soldiers of a recognized government—and thus not deserving
of being treated as soldiers. On June 29, 2006, the U.S. Supreme Court
ruled against such an interpretation.
What is more, the growing security culture has overshadowed the
human rights culture, bringing the United States in closer cooperation
with the governments in China, Egypt, Pakistan, Russia, and Saudi
Arabia, governments that are engaged in widespread and systematic
repressive measures against their own populace. These countries
have used the threat of global terrorism to weaken the fragile edifi ce
of human rights law.30 In many respects, the war against terrorism
brought to light the myth of American human rights exceptionalism.
The Bush administration, under the guise of counterterrorism, violated
human rights by abusing prisoners as a matter of policy, by disappear-
ing detainees into a network of secret prisons, and by abducting and
sending suspects to be interrogated in countries that practice torture,
such as Egypt, Syria, and Morocco. This outsourcing of torture,
military detention, and security and intelligence operations has fueled
serious human rights abuses across the globe.31
Amnesty International has found that more than 25 American com-
panies may have transported men detained by the U.S. government to
nations with a troubling record on human rights. These companies,
too, may be complicit in the U.S. government’s practice of outsourcing
torture.32 Similarly, the privatization of war by such companies as Black-
water USA (now known as Xe Services LLC) has fostered the growth and
creation of other private companies who have benefi ted and stand to gain
even further from an escalation of war.33 This war contracting system has
so invariably linked corporate profi ts to an escalation of war that these
companies have no incentive to curtail their footprint in the war zone and
every incentive to fuel it.
As such, the war outsourcing has facilitated impunity for private
contractors and has undermined what remains of U.S. moral authority
abroad. Consequently, many concerns have been raised about how to
subject these private war contractors to transparency, accountability,
and the rule of law. Private security companies have pressed the govern-
ment to take over even more duties that are normally carried out by
American soldiers.34 According to the U.S. Department of Labor, at least
770 contractors had been killed in Iraq as of December 2006 along with
at least 7,700 wounded. These casualties are not included in the offi cial
death toll that the U.S. government releases, helping to mask the human
costs of the Iraqi war. More disturbing, however, is what this means for
222 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
U.S. democracy: the widespread use of private forces apparently account-
able to no effective system of oversight or law.35
War outsourcing has created the corporate equivalent of Guantanamo
Bay—a virtual rules- free zone in which perpetrators are unlikely to be
held accountable for breaking the law. The U.S. criticisms of the gov-
ernments of Uzbekistan, Colombia, and Russia for systematic human
rights violations have been signifi cantly muted. In the name of anti-
terrorism, counterinsurgency, or national security, private contractors,
governments, and other perpetrators appear to have evaded the law. On
June 29, 2006, the U.S. Supreme Court struck down the military com-
missions at the U.S. Naval Base at Guantanamo Bay, affi rming the protec-
tions of common Article Three of the Geneva Conventions that ensures
fair trial standards, and also prohibiting torture and other inhumane
treatment. The Obama administration has also demonstrated concern
that pursuing claims involving foreign government’s human rights issues
can potentially constrain the “war on terrorism.”
Conclusion
The view that nation- building can be undertaken by military interven-
tion and that it must be seen as a bulwark against terrorism has proven
both untenable and costly. The advocates of the so- called war on terror
have placed the commitment to human rights on the backburner,
claiming that the strict observation of human rights is imprudent, given
competing security interests. It has also become extremely diffi cult to
set priorities and make sensible accommodations when faced with
strategic choices, such as cutting foreign aid to Pakistan or continu-
ing nation- building efforts in Afghanistan. It is safe to argue that U.S.
policymakers are clueless as to how to pursue multiple, contradictory
goals in the Middle East. The practical implications of a democracy-
based approach to foreign policy are varied and many. Although there
are palpable tensions between democratic changes and strategic con-
siderations, it is clear that the old bargain with Arab autocracies has
utterly failed since the 2011 Arab revolts. While some in Washington
may regard the price of democratic transformation in the Middle East
as substantial, the cost of preserving the status quo is tragically even
greater in the long run.
Under such circumstances, the call for nation- building has come
under closer scrutiny. The invasion of Iraq has exposed the fl aws of the
transformative tasks of the Bush administration, including the policies of
preemptive strike and forcible regime change. The democracy promotion
agenda has undermined the rule- bound international order of the
post–Cold War era. A broad consensus holds that democratization is a
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 223
complicated and diffi cult process that would illicit numerous uncertain
consequences. In order for change to be sustainable, the pace of
democratic transformation must be gradual, systematic, and directly
linked to indigenous movements. Pressure for a higher standard of
respect for basic human rights—including the rights of women, minori-
ties, and children—in these countries must be pursued judiciously. There
is now a rare opportunity for the United States to follow the lead of the
people of the Middle East and North Africa who are directly involved in
the looming battle for their freedom.
Notes
1. Barry Buzan, “Will the ‘Global War on Terrorism’ be the New Cold
War?” International Relations, Vol. 82, No. 6, November 2006,
pp. 1101–1118; see especially 1115–1116.
2. John L. Esposito, The Islamic Threat: Myth or Reality? Third Edition,
New York: Oxford University Press, 1999, p. 73.
3. For a stimulating analysis of U.S. foreign policy, see the opinions
expressed by Melani McAlister, Stephen Baker, and Richard Ebeling in
Searching for Foreign Policy Lessons, ed. Josh Burek, http://www. csmoni-
tor.com, September 25, 2001. Last accessed on March 18, 2001.
4. Robert Jervis, “Understanding the Bush Doctrine,” Political Science
Quarterly, Vol. 118, No. 3, Fall 2003, pp. 551–583; see p. 551.
5. John Gerard Ruggie, “Doctrinal Unilateralism and Its Limits: American
and Global Governance in the New Century,” in American Foreign Policy
in a Globalized World, ed. David P. Forsythe, Patrice C. McMahon,
Andrew Wedeman, New York: Routledge, 2006, pp. 31–50; see p. 39.
6. Richard Falk, “War Prevention and the UN,” Counterpunch, July 2,
2003, available at http://www.counterpunch.org/falk07022003 html.
Last accessed on May 16, 2007.
7. Ibid.
8. Henry Munson, “Lifting the Veil: Understanding the Roots of Islamic
Militancy,” in World Politics, Annual Editions, Twenty- sixth Edition,
ed. Helen E. Purkitt, Dubuque, IA: McGraw-Hill/Dushkin, 2006,
pp. 179–181.
9. For a detailed discussion of this issue, see Mahmood Monshipouri,
“The Bush Doctrine and Democracy Promotion in the Middle East,”
in American Foreign Policy in a Globalized World, ed. David P. Forsythe,
Patrice C. McMahon, and Andrew Wedeman, New York: Routledge,
2006, pp. 313–334.
10. Stephen Krasner, director of the Center on Democracy, Development
and the Rule of Law at Stanford University’s Institute of International
Studies, Palo Alto, California is quoted in Kenneth Jost and Benton
Ives- Halperin, “Democracy in the Arab World,” in The CQ Researchers,
Global Issues, 2005 Edition, Washington, D.C.: CQ Press, 2005,
pp. 181–206; see especially p. 187.
224 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d S h a d i M o k h ta r i
11. Robert Looney, “The Broader Middle East Initiative: Requirements for
Success in the Gulf,” Strategic Insights, Vol. III, No. 8, August 2004,
pp. 1–11; see especially p. 7. Available at http://www. ccc.nps.navy.mil/
si/index.asp. Last accessed on June 7, 2005.
12. The CQ Research, Global Issues, 2005 Edition, Washington, D.C.:
CQ Press, 2005, pp. 181–206; see especially p. 187.
13. The United Nations Development Programme, The Arab Human
Develop ment Report 2002: Creating Opportunities for Future Generations,
NY: UNDP, 2002, p. 52. Also see UNDP, Human Development Report
2004: Cultural Liberty in Today’s Diverse World, New York: UNDP, 2004;
see especially pp. 225–237.
14. Ibid., p. 98.
15. See the report by the Canadian International Development Agency
(CIDA), “Support to Gender Equality in the Middle East Region: Jordan,
Lebanon, West Bank and Gaza, and Yemen,” available at http://www.
acdicida.gc.ca/cidaweb/webcountry.nsf/VLUDocEn/NorthAfrican
andMiddleEast. Last accessed on June 6, 2005.
16. Zbigniew Brzezinski, “Hegemonic Quicksand,” The National Interest,
Vol. 74, Winter 2003–2004, pp. 5–16; see especially p. 13.
17. Andrew J. Bacevich, “Last Act in the Middle East,” Newsweek, April 11,
2011, pp. 48–49; see especially p. 49.
18. Kristen Chick, “Why Tunisia? Why Now?” The Christian Science Monitor,
January 31, 2011, pp. 8–10; see especially p. 10.
19. Peter J. Hoffman and Thomas G. Weiss, Sword and Salve: Confronting
New Wars and Humanitarian Crises, Boulder, CO: Rowman & Little-
fi eld Publishers, 2006, p. 158.
20. Ibid., p. 159.
21. Mark Lange, “Libya’s Sharp Lesson for America’s Foreign Priorities,” The
Christian Science Monitor, May 9, 2011, p. 34.
22. Robert Jervis, American Foreign Policy in a New Era, 2004: p. 84.
23. Ibid., p. 99.
24. Robert Jervis, Political Science Quarterly, 2005, p. 352.
25. Ibid., p. 9.
26. Ibid., p. 12.
27. Ibid., p. 14.
28. Laura K. Donohue, “Fear Itself: Counterterrorism, Individual Rights,
and U.S. Foreign Relations Post 9–11,” in Terrorism and Counter-
terrorism: Understanding the New Security Environment, Readings and
Interpretations, ed. Russell D. Howard and Reid L. Sawyer, Guilford, CT:
McGraw-Hill/Dushkin, 2002, pp. 313–338; see p. 319.
29. Ibid., p. 323.
30. Stephen J. Toope, “Human Rights and the Use of Force after September
11, 2001,” in Terror, Culture, and Politics: Rethinking 9/11, ed. Daniel
J. Sherman and Terry Nardin, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University
Press, 2006, pp. 237–258; see p. 241.
31. See Annual Report of Amnesty International, Statement of Larry Cox,
Executive Director, Amnesty International USA, May 23, 2006, available
C o m p l e m e n ta r y o r C o m p e t i n g I n t e r e s t s ? 225
at http://www.amnestyusa.org/annualreport/2006/statement.html.
Last accessed on April 7, 2007.
32. Ibid.
33. Jeremy Scahill, “Outsourcing the War,” Nation, available at http:///
www.thenation.com/doc/20070528/scahill. Posted on May 11, 2007.
34. Ibid.
35. Ibid.
4
C h a p t e r 1 2
Migrant Workers and Their
Rights in the United
Arab Emirates
M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
Migrant workers have lived in the Arabian Peninsula for more than
two centuries. Starting in the 1970s, however, the dynamics of migration
fl ows to the Persian Gulf region took a new twist with the rise in oil prices
and the development boom in the region’s newly independent coun-
tries. These changing dynamics were most notable in the United Arab
Emirates (UAE).1 In 1968, the population of the UAE was 180,000, of
which two- thirds were nationals and one- third migrants.2 By 2005, the
UAE’s population had risen to 4.1 million, of which about 80 percent
were migrants.3 The changing dynamics of migration fl ows to the region
have triggered a debate over labor conditions and practices that violate
the rights of migrant workers and subject them to modern day exploita-
tion and abuse.
Three sets of problems facing migrant workers have become the sub-
ject of global media attention in recent years. The fi rst set of problems
relates to workplace conditions and the living environment of migrant
workers. Problems of this sort include failure to pay workers’ wages regu-
larly and in a timely manner, and the prevalence of unsuitable working
and living conditions, most notably unsanitary and poor safety condi-
tions. The second set of problems is gender- related. The prevalence of
sexual abuse among female migrant workers has become a major cause
for concern, especially because the UAE Labor Law of 1980 or the Draft
Labor Law of 2007 does not cover domestic maids or servants.4 The third
228 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
set of problems relates to the ability of workers to organize and demand
the protection of their rights. In the UAE, workers are not allowed to
protest, and those who do are typically punished in a harsh manner.5 The
UAE government has not allowed for trade unions to form despite its
promise to do so in the past.6 These problems are further compounded
by global migration trends, which contain paradoxes and ambiguities
related to underenforcement of laws and vagaries of the global market.
Some NGOs, such as the HRW, have recommended that the UAE
establish an independent commission to publicly report on the condi-
tion of migrant workers, prohibit companies from doing business with
exploitative recruitment agencies, aggressively investigate and prosecute
employers that violate the UAE labor law, institute a minimum wage as
mandated by existing UAE law, and permit the operation of independent
human rights and workers rights organizations.7 Despite recent improve-
ments, deep structural and enforcement problems perpetuate the abuse
of migrant workers’ rights in the UAE. The existing networks of employ-
ment and recruitment networks for migrant workers are structured in
a way that facilitates the abuse of the fundamental rights of migrant
workers. Furthermore, there exists no powerful executive agency in the
UAE to monitor or secure the rights of workers. The UAE govern-
ment must assume a more active role in addressing a variety of serious
structural and enforcement problems that often lead to substandard and
undignifi ed living conditions of migrant workers.
Migrant Workers Defined
Article 2 of the Convention on Migrant Workers (CMW) defi nes a
“migrant worker” as “a person who is to be engaged, is engaged or has
been engaged in a remunerated activity in a State of which he or she
is not a national.”8 Although Article 5 of the CMW makes a distinc-
tion between documented and undocumented migrant workers, the
distinction has been criticized in practice as “arbitrary,” since “being
documented does not afford an immigrant worker substantially more
rights than undocumented workers.”9 The abuse of migrant workers’
rights often is a problem of lackluster enforcement of existing legal pro-
tections. This is certainly the case in the UAE, where most migrant work-
ers are documented, having entered the country through the recruitment
network discussed in detail in Part V. The UAE, one commentator notes,
“represents not only the document- independence of the workers’ abuses,
but also the irrelevance of having migrated legally.”10
Under international human rights law and norms, migrant workers
are entitled to certain economic, political, social and residence rights,
although individual compacts afford them these rights to varying degrees.
For example, several or all of the provisions of the Universal Declaration
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 229
of Human Rights (UDHR), the International Convention of Civil
and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the International Convention on
the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD) have
been interpreted to be applicable to migrant workers. The International
Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (ICESCR), by
comparison, affords less protection to migrant workers than the UDHR
and the ICCPR.11 Additionally, several regional compacts such as the
European Convention for the Protection of Human Rights and Fun-
damental Freedoms and the American Convention on Human Rights
protect the right of migrant workers. No such compacts, however,
govern migrant workers’ rights in the Persian Gulf.12
According to the United Nations’ estimates, one out of every thirty-
fi ve people is a migrant worker, and approximately 175 million people
work in a country other than their own.13 In sharp contrast to previous
eras, women now comprise approximately half of the global migrant pop-
ulation.14 Although some observers expected massive returns of migrant
workers to their countries of origin shortly after the emergence of the
2008 fi nancial crisis, a 2009 study by the International Labor Organiza-
tion (ILO) found that “to date, no mass returns of migrant workers have
been observed.”15
Migrant Workers in the UAE
The Persian Gulf region has a long history of hosting migrant labors
through its association with international trade routes across the Indian
Ocean, as well as economic activities connected with the annual Hajj
pilgrimage.16 The modern era of labor migration to the region, however,
began with the discovery and production of oil in the region. In 1933,
Bahrain became the fi rst of the Persian Gulf states to successfully produce
oil.17 Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, and Qatar soon followed suit, with Abu
Dhabi starting oil production later, in 1962. As oil production required
high numbers of skilled and unskilled workers, both of which were scarce
in the tiny kingdoms of the Persian Gulf, migrant workers from Iran,
India, Pakistan and other Arab countries poured into the region.18 The
oil price explosion of the 1970s triggered an even more massive wave
of labor migration to the Persian Gulf states. The migration trend was
closely tied to the oil price boom in two important ways. On the one
hand, it vastly increased the demand for labor in oil exporting countries,
while on the other, it prompted countries with excess labor supply to
provide every incentive to offset the crippling rise in oil import costs by
encouraging their citizens to work abroad and remit as large a proportion
of their wages as possible.19
In the UAE, the infl ux of migrant workers was further catalyzed by the
country’s emergence as a modern fi nancial and economic powerhouse
230 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
in the 1980s and 1990s. Successful efforts at economic diversifi cation
led to the rapid growth of non- oil economic sectors. In 1975, oil produc-
tion accounted for more than two- thirds of the UAE’s gross domestic
product (GDP).20 Today, oil and gas output comprises only a quarter of
the UAE’s GDP.21 The decline in the share of oil in the UAE’s GDP is
largely attributable to the rapid growth of other economic sectors, such
as real estate, manufacturing, and tourism. As these economic sectors
involve labor- intensive activities, the UAE’s demand for migrant workers
has only increased over time. In fact, over the past fi ve decades, the infu-
sion of migrant labor into the UAE society has completely changed the
face of the country. In 1968, the UAE’s population stood at 180,425,
of whom 63.5 percent were nationals and 36.5 percent were expatriates.
Today, with its population reaching 5 million, migrants make up about
80 percent of the population and 95 percent of the private work force.22
Table 12.1 refl ects the massive infusion of migrant workers into the UAE
society over the past fi ve decades.
The size, characteristics, and nature of this massive migrant worker
population have invited questions about not only the employment
opportunities of migrant workers but also their rights. As a result, the
labor laws of the UAE have come under closer scrutiny in recent years,
especially after the release of the HRW’s seminal 2006 report document-
ing widespread human rights abuses in the UAE in meticulous detail.23
Largely in response to the international criticism generated from that
report, the UAE Prime Minister, Sheikh Mohammad bin Rashid al
Maktoum, ordered the minister of labor to enforce the country’s labor
laws by instituting a series of reforms based on the report’s recommen-
dations.24 Recent reforms, however, have largely failed to bring about
meaningful changes to the lives of millions of migrant workers currently
residing in the UAE.
Table 12.1 Population of the United Arab Emiratesi
Year Total population Nationals % Expatriates %
1968 180,425 114,607 63.5 65,818 36.5
1975 557,887 201,544 36.1 356,343 63.9
1980 1,042,099 290,544 27.9 751,555 72.1
1985 1,379,303 396,114 28.7 983,189 71.3
1995 2,411,041 587,330 24.4 1,823,711 75.6
2005 4,104,695 824,921 20.1 3,279,774 79.9
i Source: Rima Sabban, “Migrant Women in the Untied Arab Emirates: The case of female domestic
workers,” GENPROM Working Paper No. 10; UAE Ministry of Economy, Economic & Statistics
Reports, “Census 2005,” available at http://www.economy.ae/Arabic/EconomicAndStatistic
Reports/StatisticReports/Documents/census2005/Census%202005 (Arabic).
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 231
The UAE Labor Laws
Migrant workers in the UAE are covered by the Federal Law No. 8 of
1980 (the “Labor Law”). The Labor Law defi nes “worker” as “[a]ny
male or female person who receives remuneration of any kind for work
performed thereby in the services of an employer and under his manage-
ment or control.”25 Signifi cantly, however, the Labor Law exempts
“[d]omestic servants working in Private residences and the like”26 from
its provision, which include chapters governing employment contracts,
records and remuneration, working hours and leaves, safety and social
security, employer disciplinary rules, contractual termination, indemnifi –
cation, collective bargaining and labor inspections.27 The Labor Law also
prescribes penalties for violations ranging from fi nes to imprisonment.28
Despite many of its relatively progressive provisions, the UAE labor law
was designed in the 1970s, when policymakers “were not fully aware of
the implications.”29
Even more striking is the fact that the UAE has so far refused to
implement one of the key provisions of the Labor Law mandating the
establishment of a minimum wage. Article 63 of the Labor Law requires
the Minister of Labor and Social Affairs to propose, to the Council of
Ministers for the issuance of a Federal Decree, “minimum salary and
the cost of living allowances” generally or for particular professions.30
Despite the Labor Law’s clear mandate and persistent calls by interna-
tional human rights activists, this particular provision of the Labor Law
has never been implemented. Noting that low wages are one of the “main
grievances of construction workers” in the UAE, in July 2006 the HRW
asked the then UAE Minister of Labor, Dr. Ali Abdulla Al Kaabi, why
Article 63 of the Labor Law has never been implemented. Perhaps cyni-
cally, in its report later that year, the HRW wrote, “The September reply
from the UAE government did not address this question.”31 Indeed, the
government’s failure to institute a minimum wage, despite the clear legal
mandate, is emblematic of the larger problem of lackluster enforcement
and weak oversight that has contributed greatly to the abuse of migrant
workers’ rights in the UAE.
The UAE’s persistent refusal to extend the right to collective bargain-
ing to migrant workers has in practice deprived them of the full enjoy-
ment of the other rights enshrined in the ILO conventions. As a result, in
its 2006 report, the HRW called on the UAE government to immedi-
ately ratify ILO Conventions 87 and 98 and incorporate them into the
domestic labor laws.32 In an effort to respond to widespread international
criticism of its labor situation, the UAE government has attempted to
implement safeguards to protect workers’ rights. Recent reforms in
the UAE laws have brought some changes. For example, workers have
benefi ted from a recent change (effective January 2010) in the law that
232 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
if a worker is not paid for two months, she/he can immediately fi le a
complaint before the Ministry of Labor (MOL), as he or she is entitled to
(a) fi le a complaint without prior notice to her/his employer, (b) she/he
can claim for a cancellation of the contract, and (c) she/he can transfer
the labor contract to another.33 This would also enable the worker to
avoid an absconder complaint that might be fi led against him/her by the
employer.34
More recently, in 2009, the MOL introduced a new electronic wage
protection system (WPS) to address the issue of nonpayment of wages.35
The WPS requires that the monthly staff salaries are paid directly to their
bank accounts, eliminating the employers’ control over delivering or
withholding employee wages.36 Approximately 80 banks and exchange
stores have been authorized by the MOL to deliver this service. In case of
a violation, the MOL will halt all transactions with the violator company
by suspending its account on the ministry’s website.37
The UAE government set a May 31, 2010, deadline for all employers
to adopt the WPS, which would cover more than 4 million workers.
As of August 2009, however, just 500,000 of the 4 million foreign
workers were paid this way.38 Furthermore, a new law announced by the
MOL on May 24, 2010, has extended the summer midday working ban.
The ban, which prevents laborers from working outside between the
hours of 12:30 pm and 3 pm, will now be enforced from June 15 until
September 15, extending the midday working ban period by one month
compared to previous years, when this exemption ended in August.39
Despite such improvements, deep structural and enforcement problems
perpetuate the abuse of migrant workers’ rights in the UAE.
Employment and Termination
As a structural matter, the existing networks of employment and recruit-
ment networks for migrant workers are structured in a way that facilitates
the abuse of migrant workers’ right, not only in the period before they
leave their country of origin and while in transit, but also during the entire
period of their stay. Employment for noncitizens in the UAE is based
on a sponsorship system involving nationals, expatriate labors, recruit-
ment agencies, and employers. The recruitment agencies recruit labors
in the country of origin and provide employers in destination countries
with information regarding the employee pool’s qualifi cations, size, and
duration of occupation. These agencies carry out their functions in accor-
dance with recruitment procedures approved by the UAE government.
Also part of their own country’s corporate business structure and politi-
cally well- connected, the recruitment agencies are primarily motivated
by profi t and often tend to take advantage of desperate migrant workers
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 233
willing to pay huge sums of money for a chance to obtain employment in
the UAE. Human rights organizations have argued that the labor supply
companies must be held accountable for any breach of the local rules and
regulations, while calling for stronger government control over them.
The UAE’s sponsorship system of employment for noncitizens suffers
from several fl aws. First, this system links migrant workers to specifi c
employers and precludes them from seeking alternative employment
without the expressed approval of the original employer. In fact, recruit-
ment agencies initially handle the distribution of labor to the various
employers, a practice that has been likened to the gangmasters of the
United Kingdom.40 Second, this system of employment has in some
cases led to the ill- treatment of migrant workers and the seizure of their
passports, identity papers, or other documents. Because migrant work-
ers often borrow money to pay recruitment agencies—a practice that is
illegal under the UAE law—the majority of their subsequent wages goes
toward repaying the initial debt.41
Law without Remedy
As an enforcement matter, quite simply there exists no powerful execu-
tive agency in the UAE to monitor or secure the rights of workers, as
the existing agencies lack the necessary personnel and resources to per-
form the executive branch’s supervisory or oversight functions. Migrant
workers (whether temporary, seasonal, or circular contractual workers)
face several obstacles in seeking available judicial remedies when their
rights are violated. Aside from the language barrier and a general lack of
knowledge about their rights, these workers are trapped in employment
contracts that limit their social mobility and subject protections afforded
to them to reciprocal agreements. Moreover, employers frequently with-
hold wages for months and confi scate passports as “security” to keep
workers from quitting.42
Understandably, migrant workers are hesitant to challenge any of their
employers’ unlawful violation of their rights. An act of insubordination
may subject a worker to a six- month ban or probation, which poses
practical problems for the livelihood of the worker. Article 37 of Part III:
Contracts of Employment, Records and Remuneration of the UAE’s
Labor Law reads:
A worker may be engaged on probation for a period not exceeding six
months, during which his services may be terminated by the employer with-
out notice or severance pay, provided that a worker shall not be engaged
on probation more than once in the service of any one employer. Where
a worker successfully completes his period of probation and remains in his
job, the said period shall be reckoned towards his period of service.43
234 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
Some foreign workers in Dubai have complained about unexpected
termination and no gratuity paid for their services. One worker writes:
“I worked in a company for more than two years. Six months ago, the
company terminated me unexpectedly and did not give me my end- of-
service gratuity as per law.”44 The trend toward increasing economic
integration, communication and migration, however, has made it more
diffi cult to exert absolute “social control” on migrant workers, who tend
to come from countries in which labor is unionized and labor unions
often resort to strikes if judicial remedies are not suffi ciently or promptly
provided. Given that no system is foolproof and aside from long- term
structural issues of adjusting these workers to the laws of the host coun-
tries, issues of social control and the rights of migrant workers admit to
no easy solution.45
Sex Trafficking and Domestic Workers
Sex traffi cking is a modern day form of slavery, in which a girl or woman
is coerced or induced by monetary reward to provide sexual services to
men. Many commentators argue that, globally, human traffi cking has
increased markedly since the 1990s. Some have linked the increase to
globalization and the greater integration of global markets.46 One com-
mentator has identifi ed four particular conditions of globalization that
have worsened human traffi cking in the recent years:
First, globalization has increased and created great inequality among
nations and within nations. . . . Second, globalization has accelerated the
dismantling of borders to ease all trade, and exposed citizens to “unfa-
miliar and unpredictable forces. . . . Third, the rush to globalization
encourages obsession with market goals and profi t while overlooking the
social and human goals. Fourth, nations are operating with antiquated
institutions, struggling to deal with old problems that persist while being
profoundly overwhelmed in trying to deal with new problems that have
arisen.47
Other commentators have blamed the increase in human traffi cking on
the end of the Cold War. As one commentator has argued, with the
end of the Cold War, “borders collapsed around the world. Countless
displaced people were caught up in the fi ght for survival, and became
easy targets for traffi ckers.”48 Other factors related to the Cold War,
such as the fi nancial disaster for the former states that comprised the
Soviet Union,49 the “promise” of the rich West, and the develop-
ment of informal shadow markets of cross border trade in goods
and labor.50
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 235
Lured by the promise of legitimate jobs and a brighter future, young
girls and women have constituted the most visible wave of mass migrant
workers in the UAE. Despite its illegality, prostitution is prevalent in the
UAE. What explains its prevalence? Undoubtedly, globalization and the
end of the Cold War have accelerated human traffi cking in the UAE.
After the fall of the former Soviet Union and the opening of China to
tourism, many unscrupulous agents have become attracted to Dubai’s
wealth and fi nd the easiest way to share in its spoils to be through the
use of women. Today, one observer notes, “[t]he ability to buy sex so
easily, while the government looks the other way, has certainly kept many
of the tourist and businessmen who visit Dubai coming back.”51 The
enactment of the Traffi cking Victims Protection Act of 2000 (TVPA) has
made sex traffi cking a serious violation of Federal law in the UAE. Sex
traffi ckers resort to both physical and psychological forms of coercion
and bondage, including the use of threats of physical harm or restraint,
against their victims.
The U.S. State Department 2009 Traffi cking Persons Report stated
that the UAE was a destination for men and women, predominantly
from South and Southeast Asia, traffi cked for the purposes of labor and
commercial sexual exploitation. Migrant workers, who comprise more
than 90 percent of the UAE’s private sector workforce, are recruited
from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka, Indonesia,
Ethiopia, Eritrea, China, and the Philippines. Women from some of
these countries travel willingly to work as domestic servants or admin-
istrative staff, but some are subjected to conditions indicative of forced
labor, including unlawful withholding of passports, restrictions on
movement, nonpayment of wages, threats, or physical or sexual abuse.52
Victims of sex traffi cking can be women or men, girls or boys, but the
migrant workers are overwhelmingly (90 percent) young males in their
mid-20s.53
Traffi cking of domestic workers is facilitated by the fact that the nor-
mal protections provided to workers under the UAE labor law do not
apply to domestic workers,54 leaving them more vulnerable to abuse.
By the unique nature of their work in homes, domestic workers were
generally isolated from the outside world making it diffi cult for them to
access help. Restrictive sponsorship laws for foreign domestic workers
often gave employers power to control their movements and left some
of them vulnerable to exploitation. Some women from Eastern Europe,
Southeast Asia, the Far East, East Africa, Iraq, Iran, and Morocco are
reportedly traffi cked to the UAE for commercial sexual exploitation.
Some foreign women are also reportedly recruited for work as secre-
taries or hotel workers by third- country recruiters and coerced into
prostitution or domestic servitude after arriving in the UAE.55 Similarly,
236 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
men from India, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, and Pakistan are drawn to
the UAE for work in the construction sector, but are often subjected
to conditions of involuntary servitude and debt bondage—often by
exploitative “agents” in the sending countries—as they struggle to pay
off debts for recruitment fees that sometimes exceed the equivalent of
two years’ wages.
Currently, there is an average of one housemaid per two citizens in the
UAE.56 The vulnerability of women domestic workers in the UAE has
been exacerbated by the popular attitudes that reinforce the legal imbal-
ance resulting from exemption for the protection of domestic labor laws.
Furthermore, because female domestic workers do not fall under the
Labor Law, they are not legally entitled to its protections. As the 2010
Traffi cking in Persons Report stated, “[t]he Government of the United
Arab Emirates does not fully comply with the minimum standards for
the elimination of traffi cking; however, it is making signifi cant efforts to
do so.”57 The vulnerability of some migrant workers to traffi cking likely
increased toward the end of the reporting period as a global economic
decline—noted particularly in the construction sector, the UAE’s largest
single employer of foreign workers—saw many laborers repatriated to
their home countries where they still owed debts. Unpaid construction
workers often were defrauded or forced to continue working without pay,
as they faced threats that protests may destroy any chance of recovering
wages owed to them.
Although the UAE government has demonstrated sustained efforts to
prosecute and convict sex traffi cking offenders in recent years and made
modest progress to provide protections to female traffi cking victims, no
discernable anti- traffi cking efforts have been made against the forced
labor of temporary migrant workers and domestic servants. The UAE
historically has not recognized people forced into labor as traffi cking
victims, particularly if they are over the age of 18 and entered the coun-
try voluntarily; therefore, the UAE is placed on Tier 2 Watch List.58 In
2005, the UAE was dropped into Tier 3 in the State Department’s anti-
traffi cking rankings.59 In 2006, the emirate passed an anti- traffi cking law
that helped place it in the Tier 2 Watch List, where it remains, along with
Mexico and Moldova.
One reporter noted, “I met women working as prostitutes who told me
that they were doing so because they had chosen to.” Sasha, for example,
was traffi cked from Siberia and serviced clients against her will. But then
she managed to run away from her madam and decided to continue to
work as a prostitute on her own. Her English was good, so I asked her
why she didn’t fi nd a job as a salesperson in one of the many shopping
malls in Dubai. She said she could earn more in one night as a prostitute
than working a whole month in sales. And she wouldn’t have to stand on
her feet all day. Like many other girls I spoke with, Sasha charges $500
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 237
dirhams per hour (about US$140). She told me that the money she sends
home to Siberia has allowed her family to build a house.60
In recent years, the law enforcement and MOL offi cials have attempted
to apply strict laws targeting the recruiting agents and employers who are
responsible for victims of traffi cking and labor abuses. To improve pro-
tection of these groups the government intervention is imperative. So is
collaboration with the NGOs and governments of countries from which
labors fl ow in. The latter should be held accountable for confronting
recruiting agencies that engage in traffi cking. Without the cooperation
and control of local recruiting agencies human traffi cking cannot be
signifi cantly prevented. The UAE government must prosecute labor
traffi cking offenders. The UAE prohibits all forms of traffi cking under
its Federal Law Number 51 of 2006, which prescribes penalties ranging
from one year’s imprisonment to life imprisonment.
Conclusion
Migrant workers have fi gured prominently in all sectors of the UAE’s
economy, but more so in the construction industry where they have left
an indelible mark on the country’s infrastructure and urban develop-
ment. Built over decades by migrant labors, Dubai stands out as a center
of fi nance and reexport business of the Arabian Peninsula. Paradoxically,
these workers are known as the human collateral damage of the global
fi nancial crisis that has crippled Dubai’s booming housing and construc-
tion industry since 2008. When combined with food insecurity emanat-
ing from the 2008 global food crisis, the agony of migrant labor working
in the UAE becomes apparent.
While some nationals have come to view migrant workers as a threat
to the cultural integrity of their nation, others have cautioned against
such skepticism, arguing that large- scale migration policies are needed
to direct and strengthen the national economy. The UAE government
needs to do a balancing job of determining the level of imported labors
with that of its local needs within the context of its still emerging econ-
omy, while at the same time maintaining a reasonable capacity to defuse
potential social unrest. The case for government intervention has never
been more essential. The pervasive abuse of the rights of workers has
led to a mounting pressure for direct government involvement. A proac-
tive policy that seeks to improve standards and augment regulations is
the best place to start. More federal control over markets is required if
workers’ rights are to be ensured.61 The UAE labor department should
suspend the license of an employer after proper hearing. The labor
department must have a mechanism to provide for the most basic of
amenities and living conditions.62
238 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
It is also essential to develop social support systems that protect and
care for the victims of human and sexual traffi cking. The UAE antihuman
traffi cking law (Federal Law 51, November 2006) is the fi rst of its kind
in the region.63 A multilateral effort is needed to stem the tide of human
traffi cking. To prevent these abuses, there is a persistent need for a holistic
approach that integrates legislation, enforcement, victim- support system,
as well as bilateral and collaborative actions. This necessitates an attempt
to combine domestic legislation with political and social frameworks by
which new laws are implemented.
Notes
1. The UAE is a federation of seven states, termed emirates: Abu Dhabi,
Ajman, Al Fujayrah, Dubai, Ra’s al Khayma, Sharjah, and Umm al
Qaywayn.
2. According to the UAE’s National Bureau of Statistics, the fi rst population
census in the UAE was conducted in 1968 by the Council of Developing
Trucial States. http://www.uaestatistics.gov.ae. Last accessed on June 28,
2010. Even then a large percentage was expatriate Persian. See Frauke
Heard- Bey, “The Gulf in the 20th Century,” Asian Affairs, 33: 1, 3–17
(2002). See also Fred Hallliday, “Labor Migration in the Middle East,”
MERIP Reports, No. 59, pp. 3–17 (Aug., 1977); Frauke Heard- Bey,
“The United Arab Emirates: Statehood and Nation- Building in a Tradi-
tional Society,” Middle East Journal, Vol. 59, No. 3, Democratization and
Civil Society, pp. 357–375 (Summer 2005); Onn Winckler, “The immi-
gration policy of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states,” Middle
Eastern Studies, Vol. 33, No. 3, pp. 480–493 (1997).
3. “Preliminary Results of the General Census for Population, Housing
and Establishments 2005,” available on the offi cial website of the 2005
UAE census, www.tedad.ae. Last accessed on June 28, 2010. The popu-
lation for 2009 was estimated as hitting 6 million, of which more than
83 percent were migrants. Andy Sambidge, “UAE Population Hits 6m,
Emiratis Make Up 16.5%,” Arabian Business Times, June 28, 2010. The
National Human Resources Development and Employment Authority
expected the UAE population to rise further to 7.5 million by 2010. Andy
Sambidge, “UAE Population Seen at 7.5m in 2010—study,” Arabian
Business Times, January 25, 2010. The 2010 UAE census was conducted
from April 6–19, but the results have not been released yet.
4. Federal Law No. 8 on Regulation of Labour Relations, Part 2, Article 3,
Section (c) states, “[d]omestic servants working in Private residences and
the like” shall be exempt from the provisions of the Labor Law. Al- Jarida
al- Rasmiya, 1980–04, No. 79, p. 26. English translation (as amended
up to 2001), Abu Dhabi Chamber of Commerce and Industry, Govern-
ment of the United Arab Emirates, United Arab Emirates, available at
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 239
http://www.ilo.org/dyn/natlex/docs/ELECTRONIC/11956/
69376/F417089305/ARE11956 . Last accessed on June 28, 2010.
The Draft Labor Law of 2007 retains the exclusion of domestic workers
from the protections afforded by the Labor Law. Instead, it proposes a
new standard contract for domestic workers, which has been regarded by
Human Rights Watch as “not a suffi cient substitution for equal protection
under the national labor laws.” Human Rights Watch, “The UAE’s Draft
Labor Law: Human Rights Watch’s Comments and Recommendations,”
No. 1 (March 2007), available at http://www.mafi wasta.com/hrw%20
draft%20labour%20law . Last accessed on June 28, 2010.
5. Federal Law No. 8 for 1980, Article 112 provides in part: “If the
employee has been charged with premeditated crime, such as his involve-
ment in a physical assault or robbery of property or other offenses such as
the abuse of honesty, breach of trust or strikes, the said employee may be
temporarily suspended from work” (emphasis added).
6. In fact, a recent ministerial resolution directed only at migrant workers
banned them from employment in the country for at least one year in case
of “an illegal strike or its instigation.” Ministerial Resolution 707 of 2006
Regarding Rules and Regulations of Employment in the Country (UAE)
for Non- Citizens, September 6, 2006, Article 13.
7. Human Rights Watch, “Building Towers, Cheating Workers: Exploita-
tion of Migrant Construction Workers in the United Arab Emirates,”
November 11, 2006, available at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/
2006/11/11/ building- towers- cheating- workers-0. Last accessed on
January 4, 2009.
8. International Convention on the Protection of the Rights of All Migrant
Workers and Members of Their Families, G.A. Res. 45/158, art. 2, U.N.
Doc. A/45/49 (Dec.18, 1990).
9. John Lahad, “Dreaming a Common Dream, Living a Common Night-
mare: Abuses and Rights of Immigrant Workers in the United States, the
European Union, and the United Arab Emirates,” Houston Journal of
International Law, Vol. 31, p. 658 (2009).
10. Ibid., p. 675.
11. Ryszard Cholewinski, Migrant Workers in International Human Rights
Law: Their Protection in Countries of Employment. Oxford: Clarendon
Press, 1997, ch. 2.
12. The Human Rights Watch has called formally on the governments of
India, Pakistan, Bangladesh and Sri Lanka, as well as the United States,
the European Union, and Australia to formally address such issues with
their counterparts in the UAE. See generally: Human Rights Watch,
“Building Towers, Cheating Workers: Exploitation of Migrant Con-
struction Workers in the United Arab Emirates,” November 11, 2006,
available at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/2006/11/11/ building-
towers- cheating- workers-0. Last accessed on January 4, 2009.
13. Shari Garber Bax, Preface for the Journal of the Institute for Justice and
International Studies (2005), p. vi.
240 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
14. Nisha Varia, “Sanctioned Abuses: The Case of Migrant Domestic
Workers,” Human Rights Briefs, Vol. 14, No. 3, p. 17 (2007).
15. Ibrahim Awad, “The Global Economic Crisis and Migrant Workers:
Impact and Response,” International Labour Organization, International
Migration Programme, Geneva (2009), p. ix, available at http://www.
ilo.org/public/english/protection/migrant/download/global_crisis.
pdf. Last accessed on June 28, 2010.
16. United Nations Minority Rights Group, “Migrant Workers in the Gulf,”
Report No. 68, September 1985, p. 6.
17. John King, Oil in the Middle East, Heinemann- Raintree Library, 2005,
p. 16.
18. United Nations Minority Rights Group, “Migrant Workers in the Gulf,”
Report No. 68, September 1985, p. 6.
19. Ibid.
20. Mohammad Shihab, “Economic Development in the UAE,” in United
Arab Emirates: A New Perspective, ed. Paula Vine and Ibrahim Al Abed,
London: Trident Press (2001), p. 253.
21. Central Intelligence Agency, The World Factbook, United Arab
Emirates Country Profi le, available at https://www.cia.gov/library/
publications/ the- world-factbook/geos/ae.html. Last accessed on
June 28, 2010.
22. David Keane and Nicholas McGeehan, “Enforcing Migrant Workers’
Rights in the United Arab Emirates,” International Journal on Minority
and Group Rights, 15: 81–115 (2008).
23. Human Rights Watch, “Building Towers, Cheating Workers: Exploitation
of Migrant Construction Workers in the United Arab Emirates,”
November 11, 2006, available at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/
2006/11/11/ building- towers- cheating- workers-0. Last accessed on
January 4, 2009.
24. Andrew Ross, “Away from Home: The Case of University Employees
Overseas,” South Atlantic Quarterly, 108:4, Duke University Press (2009),
available at http://saq.dukejournals.org/cgi/reprint/108/4/765. Last
accessed on December 30, 2010.
25. Federal Law No. 8 for 1980, On Regulation of Labor Relations,
Art. 1.
26. Ibid., Art. 3(c).
27. Ibid.
28. Ibid., Art. 181 as amended by Federal Law No. 12 of 1986.
29. Rima Sabban, “Migrant Women in the Untied Arab Emirates: The
Case of Female Domestic Workers,” GENPROM Working Paper
No. 10.
30. Federal Law No. 8 for 1980, On Regulation of Labor Relations,
Art. 63.
31. Human Rights Watch, “Building Towers, Cheating Workers: Exploita-
tion of Migrant Construction Workers in the United Arab Emirates,”
November 11, 2006, available at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/
2006/11/11/ building- towers- cheating- workers-0. Last accessed on
January 4, 2009.
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 241
32. Human Rights Watch, “Building Towers, Cheating Workers: Exploita-
tion of Migrant Construction Workers in the United Arab Emirates,”
November 11, 2006, available at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/
2006/11/11/ building- towers- cheating- workers-0. Last accessed on
January 4, 2009.
33. This new law was mentioned to us during an interview in Sharjah, the
UAE, by Aji Kuriakose, legal advisor, Al Roken and Bin Eid Advocates
and Legal Consultants, Sharjah, on January 12, 2010.
34. Mohammad Al Shaiba responds to a worker whose employer has left the
country and he has not received his salary for the past two months. See
“Ask the Law,” Gulf News, January 1, 2010, p. 6.
35. Ministerial Decree No. (788) of 2009 on Protection of Wages, avail-
able at http://rbsbank.ae/UAE/lp/doc/mol_degree_on_wps . Last
accessed on December 26, 2010.
36. Ibid., Article 2.
37. Mohammad Ebrahim Al Shaiba, Ask the Law, “Rules on Worker Payments
Must Be Strictly Followed,” Gulf News, April 16, 2010, p. 5.
38. United States State Department, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights
and Labor, “2009 Human Rights Report: United Arab Emirates,”
March 11, 2010, available at http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/
2009/nea/136082.htm. Last accessed on December 30, 2010.
39. See UAE Interact, available at http://www.uaeinteract.com/docs/UAE_
Labour_Ministry_extends_midday_work_ban_by_one_month/41129.
htm. Last accessed on May 25, 2010.
40. John Lahad, “Dreaming a Common Dream, Living a Common Night-
mare: Abuses and Rights of Immigrant Workers in the United States, the
European Union, and the United Arab Emirates,” Houston Journal of
International Law, Vol. 31, p. 670 (2009).
41. Ibid.
42. Human Rights Watch, “Building Towers, Cheating Workers: Exploita-
tion of Migrant Construction Workers in the United Arab Emirates,”
November 11, 2006, available at http://www.hrw.org/en/reports/
2006/11/11/ building- towers- cheating- workers-0. Last accessed on
January 4, 2009.
43. Jurists Association, UAE’s Labor Law and the Ministerial Orders Imple-
menting Federal Law No. 8 of the Year 1980. As Amended by Federal
Law No. 8 of 2007, Part III: Contracts of Employment, Records and
Remuneration, p. 32, Abu Dhabi, UAE Publications, 2007.
44. Dina Aboul Hosn, “Ask the Law,” Gulf News, Friday, January 8, 2010,
p. 5. In this section, Mohammad Ebrahim Al Shaiba of Al Bahar Advo-
cates and Legal Consultants answers questions raised in a section called
“Ask the Law.”
45. We interviewed Dr. John T. Crist, Assistant Dean for Academic Affairs,
Georgetown University, School of Foreign Service in Qatar, Doha, on
January 7, 2010.
46. See, for example, Richard Poulin, “Globalization and the sex trade: traffi ck-
ing and the commodifi cation of women and children,” Canadian Women’s
Studies, Vol. 22, Nos. 3, 4; Susanne Kappler, “The International Slave
242 M a h m o o d M o n s h i p o u r i a n d A l i A s s a r e h
Trade in Women, or Procurers, Pimps and Punters,” Law & Critique, Vol.
1, p. 219, 235 (1990); Hilary Charlesworth et al., “Feminist Approaches
to International Law,” American Journal of International Law, Vol. 85,
p. 613, 630 (1990); Ron Corben, “ Asia- Rights: Open Borders Aid Sex
Traffi ckers,” Inter Press Service, Dec. 28, 1997.
47. Luz Estella Nagle, “Selling Souls: The Effect of Globalization on Human
Traffi cking and Forced Servitude,” Wisconsin International Law Journal,
Vol. 26, Spring 2008, pp. 152–155.
48. Ron Soodalter, Keynote Address, “The Commodifi cation of Human
Beings: Exploring the Reality and Future of Modern Day Slavery,”
Connecticut Journal of International Law, Vol. 25, Fall 1999, p. 40.
49. Ranee Khooshie Lal Panjabi, “Born Free Yet Everywhere in Chains:
Global Slavery in the Twenty- First Century,” Denver Journal of Interna-
tional Law and Policy, Vol. 37, Winter 2008, p. 2.
50. Janet Halley, Prabha Kotiswaran, Hila Shamir, and Chantal Thomas,
“From the International to the Local in Feminist Legal Responses to
Rape, Prostitutional Work, and Sex Traffi cking: Four Students in Con-
temporary Governance Feminism,” Harvard Journal of Law and Gender,
Vol. 29, Summer 2006, p. 361.
51. Frank W. Hardy, “Prostitution in Dubai,” available at http:// sexual-
abuse.suite101.com/article.cfm/prostitution_in_dubai. Last accessed on
May 7, 2010.
52. U.S. State Department 2009 Traffi cking in Persons Report, available
at http://www.realcourage.org/2009/06/ traffi cking- in-persons-2009/.
Pp. 292–294. Last accessed on May 7, 2010.
53. John Willoughby, “ Ambivalent Anxieties of the South Asia- Gulf Arab
Labor Exchange,” in Globalization and the Gulf, ed. John W. Fox, Nada
Mourtada- Sabbah, and Mohammed al- Mutawa. New York: Routledge,
2006, pp. 223–243; see especially p. 229.
54. Federal Law No. 8 for 1980, On Regulation of Labor Relations,
Art. 3(c).
55. Ibid.
56. Staci Strobl, Policing Housemaids: The Criminalization of Domestic
Workers in Bahrain, Cite as: 49 Brit. J. Criminology 165, *167
(2009).
57. United States Department of State, “Traffi cking in Persons Report
(2010),” p. 334, available at http://www.state.gov/documents/organi-
zation/142984 . Last accessed on July 22, 2010.
58. United States Department of State, “Traffi cking in Persons Report
(2010),” available at http://www.state.gov/documents/organiza-
tion/142984 . Last accessed on July 22, 2010.
59. United States Department of State, “Traffi cking in Persons Report
(2005),” available at http://www.state.gov/documents/organiza-
tion/47255 . Last accessed on July 22, 2010.
60. PBS, “The Dark Side of Dubai,” available at http://www.qatarliving.
com/node/80024. Last accessed on May 7, 2010.
M i g r a n t Wo r k e r s a n d T h e i r R i g h t s i n t h e UA E 243
61. We interviewed Dr. Mohamed Abdulla Al Roken in Dubai on January 14,
2010. Dr. Al Roken represents Al Roken & Bin Eid, Advocates and Legal
Consultants, Dubai, the UAE.
62. We interviewed Mr. Morison Menon, Chattered Accountants, Consulting
Company, Dubai, the UAE on January 14, 2010.
63. The United Arab Emirates, National Committee to Combat Human
Traffi cking, available at http://www.nccht.gov.ae/En/Menu/index.
aspx?MenuID=11&CatID=44&SubcatID=13&mnu=SubCat. Last
accessed on May 25, 2010.
4
C h a p t e r 1 3
Health and Human Rights
in Palestine: The Siege and
Invasion of Gaza and the Role
of the Boycott, Divestment
and Sanctions Movement
J e s s G h a n n a m
Precis
The linkage between human rights and health rights has been well estab-
lished and documented. A consensus position has emerged that insists
on the inextricability between health promotion and the protection of
human rights. Violations of basic health rights are now considered viola-
tions of human rights. Within the larger global context of human rights
violations, the occupation and colonization of Palestine stand out as an
egregious example of how the denial of health rights can lead to devas-
tating consequences. This chapter will describe the current context of
human rights violations in Palestine and the impact of these violations on
health rights. Special emphasis will be afforded to the siege and invasion
of Gaza and its aftermath.
A proposal for addressing the impunity of Israel and the failure
of international entities— nation- states, NGOs, international judicial
bodies—to hold Israel accountable for its human rights violations will
be presented. The boycott, divestment and sanctions (BDS) paradigm
will be presented as one strategy for establishing justice in Palestine and,
246 Je s s G h a n n a m
in turn, for promoting health rights and an improvement in health- related
quality of life for Palestinians. One component of the BDS paradigm is
an international grassroots movement referred to as the academic and
cultural boycott of Israeli (ACBI). The Government of Israel (GOI)
deems the BDS movement a threat and has recently proposed a law
that would punish Israeli academics who participated in the boycott
movement. Additionally, some Israeli think- tanks have identifi ed the
BDS movement as “an existential threat” to Israel’s legitimacy among
nations.
Critical issues pertaining to academic freedom and freedom of educa-
tion will be articulated in light of criticisms that have been offered as an
argument against the boycott. Palestinian civil society has called on the
international community, including all academic institutions, to engage
in a comprehensive BDS project in order to end Israel’s violations of
human rights of the Palestinians, hold Israel accountable to international
law, and end the occupation of Palestine. The academic and cultural
boycott movement may represent one effective method to engage in
social justice work within the larger global BDS movement.
The Context of Health and Human Rights
The right to health and wellness is considered to be among the most
basic and essential human assets to be protected. Poor health can have
dire consequences not only for individuals, but for families, extended
families, communities, villages, cities, and nation- states. The World Health
Organization (WHO) has stated that violations or the lack of attention to
human rights can have serious health consequences.1 The right to health is
a fundamental part of any human right and the foundation of basic human
dignity. According to the WHO, the right to enjoyment of the highest
attainable standard of physical and mental health was fi rst articulated in
the 1946 Constitution of the WHO. The preamble states:
Health is a state of complete physical, mental, and social well- being and
not merely the absence of disease or infi rmity. . . . Enjoyment of the
highest attainable standard of health is one of the fundamental rights of
every human being without distinction of race, religion, political belief,
economic or social condition.2
This was articulated in 1946 as part of the preamble, but the 1948
Universal Declaration of Human Rights corroborates this and also
mentions health as part of the right to an adequate standard of living.
The right to health was again recognized as a human right in the 1966
International Covenant of Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights.3
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 247
Clearly, there is a long tradition within the international community
and among a wide variety of human rights organizations and treaties to
promote the right to health as essential to all states, nonstate actors, and
developing communities. More recently, additional attention has been
given by the WHO to promote the highest attainable standard of health
and this has been further articulated by the Commission on Human
Rights.4
In sum, it has been well established by the international community
that health rights and human rights are inextricable and mutually depen-
dent and that no state actor or even nonstate actor should be absolved
from the protection and provision of adequate health rights as basic
tenets of human rights.5 Within this context we can better understand
the implications of human rights violations carried out by the GOI and
its military in the occupation of Palestine.
The Context of Occupation in Palestine
Given the well- established relationship between human and health rights,
we can begin to understand the breadth and scope of human rights
violations committed by the Israeli military and the GOI in Palestine
as commencing even before the initial occupation in 1948 and the sub-
sequent annexation of Gaza on the West Bank in 1967 which initiated.
There began a slow, steady process of collective and individual violations
of the Geneva Convention on the Palestinian civilian population. This
chapter cannot comprehensively describe the scope and the magnitude of
these violations and instead will be limited to a brief overview of some
of these violations as they are currently manifested in the West Bank and
more signifi cantly in the Gaza Strip.
At a basic level, all occupations form the basis of human rights viola-
tions and violations of the Geneva Convention. The very fact that Israel
extends its military presence throughout the West Bank in the form of
checkpoints, bypass roads, and settlements means that every single aspect
of Palestinian civil society is prone to the possibility of human rights viola-
tions on a daily basis. By some estimates, there are over 500 movable and
immovable checkpoints dotted throughout the West Bank. These are
military checkpoints staffed by the Israeli military and form the basis of
the matrix of control that the Israeli military imposes on Palestinians. By
doing so, Palestinians are separated from each other, from their families,
from their ability to engage in gainful employment, for example, and
their ability to tend to their farms.
Another element that can be construed as a human rights violation, as
well as a violation of the Geneva Convention, is the separation wall,
also called an apartheid wall, which Israel has erected. This apartheid
wall, which is a concrete wall some twenty feet high and two to four
248 Je s s G h a n n a m
feet thick with barbed wire in some areas, extends itself throughout the
West Bank typically on the inside part of the green line. It snakes itself in
such a way that it cuts deeply into the West Bank, often times bisecting
Palestinian villages and cities, cutting off families and communities from
one another, and making diffi cult, if not altogether preventing, employ-
ment. It also extends in such a way that it cuts off Palestinians from
access to the Jordan Valley, one of the most fertile pieces of Palestinian
land that could be used for Palestinians to sustain themselves. By virtue
of the settlements, the bypass roads, and the apartheid wall, the amount
of land that Palestinians on the West Bank are restricted to amounts to
approximately 7 percent of original historic Palestine.
Among the most egregious of Israeli human rights violations is the
widely used and accepted illegal use of torture on detained Palestinians,
including women and children. Since 1967, over 650,000 Palestinians
have been detained by Israel (either through civilian or military authori-
ties).6 Widely reported and condemned by international human rights
organizations, Israel detention techniques routinely include torture on
detainees and political prisoners. What is especially alarming is the use of
cruel, inhuman, and humiliating techniques among Palestinian children
by Israel. A recent report by the Defense for Children International
(DCI) noted the widespread use of torture by Israel.7
According to DCI, nearly 700 Palestinian children in the West Bank
alone are detained and imprisoned by Israel every year.8 Furthermore,
based on a survey in 2009 of 100 of these children, lawyers found that
69 percent were beaten and kicked, 49 percent were threatened, 14 percent
were held in solitary confi nement, 12 percent were threatened with
sexual assault, including rape, and 32 percent were forced to sign con-
fessions written in Hebrew, a language they do not understand.9 Such
institutionalized and systematic mistreatment is considered torture by the
United Nations under international law and specifi cally contravenes the
Convention on the Rights of the Child to which Israel is a signatory.
Gaza
Before the December 2008 invasion and the siege of Gaza, the health,
economic, and basic services aspect of Palestinian life were already on
the verge of collapse. According to a special focus report by the United
Nations Offi ce of the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, prior to
the invasion, 80 percent of families in Gaza—that is, approximately
1.1 million people—had to rely on food aid compared to 63 percent
prior to the siege.10 In 2007, households were spending approximately
62 percent of their total income in food compared to 37 percent in
2004.11 During the period of May to June 2007 alone, commodity
prices for wheat fl our, baby milk, rice, and fl our rose some 34 percent,
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 249
30 percent, and 21 percent, respectively, according to the World Food
Program (WFP).12 During the period of June to September 2007, the
number of households in Gaza earning less than 1.2 dollars per day
soared from 55 percent to 70 percent, according to the WFP.13
Prior to the siege, the economy was also in a state of utter devasta-
tion. In September of 2000, some 24,000 Palestinians crossed in and
out of Gaza every day to work in Israel, according to the World Bank.14
Since the siege of Gaza, the fi gure for legal crossings into Gaza for work
is zero.15 Unemployment at the time prior to the invasion was close to
40 percent and was expected to rise, according to the Offi ce for the
Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs (OCHA) report of 2007.16
In the months leading up to the siege and blockade, around
250 trucks a day entered Gaza through the Sufa checkpoint with sup-
plies, and today it remains less than a trickle of that amount.17 Of Gaza’s
industrial operations, 95 percent were suspended due to the ban on
raw materials and the blockade, according to the World Bank report
of 2007.18 These 95 percent of the industrial operations that were sus-
pended occurred prior to the invasion. With respect to basic services, 40
to 50 million liters of sewage continued to pour into the sea on a daily
basis, according to an OXFAM report of 2008.19 As a result of fuel and
electrical restrictions prior to the invasions, hospitals were on a regular
basis experiencing power cuts lasting eight to twelve hours a day.20 Prior
to the invasion, there was a daily shortage of 60–70 percent of diesel
required for hospital power generators.21
Regarding the specifi c health implications, according to the WHO
report of 2007, 18.5 percent of patients seeking emergency treatment in
hospitals outside of Gaza were refused permits to leave.22 The propor-
tion of patients given permits to exit Gaza for medical care decreased
from 89.3 percent in January of 2007 to 64.3 percent in December,
which at the time had been an unprecedented low. The WHO, during
the period of October to December 2007, confi rmed the deaths of at
least 20 patients because of the denial of permits. This horrifi c situation
represents the state of affairs in Gaza before the invasion and describes
the basic state of affairs during the siege of Gaza. The siege was put in
place after the Hamas government was installed in 2006, having won
the elections that the international community had deemed to be fair
and transparent. Israel, backed by the international community and with
impunity, imposed a siege on Gaza, which amounted to collective punish-
ment that is not only a violation of the Geneva Conventions, but also
refl ects a human rights violation as defi ned by the United Nations.
The Palestinian Center for Human Rights (PHCR) has compiled the
causalities in a highly cited summary of the dead and wounded follow-
ing the IDF offensive on the Gaza Strip and the following fi gures come
from this report23 (see exhibit 1 for a tabular summary of these fi ndings).
250 Je s s G h a n n a m
By dividing Gaza into fi ve provinces, the Northern Gaza section, the
Gaza city province, the Central Gaza strip, the Khan Yunis area, and
then the Southern tip in Rafah; we can begin to describe and understand
the nature of the casualties and the breadth and the depth of the Israeli
invasion. In the Northern Gaza District, for example, 26 bombs per
square km were dropped, resulting in the deaths of 400 civilians, of these
125 children and 51 women.
In the Gaza City province, 313 civilians were killed, including
105 children and 41 women. In the Khan Younis District, 18 one- to
two- ton bombs were dropped per square km, resulting in 61 civilian
deaths, among these 16 children and 5 women. In the Rafah District
area, 35 one to two- ton bombs were dropped per 1 square km area,
resulting in 39 deaths to the civilian population, with 13 children and
1 woman among the killed. The magnitude of this assault on the civilian
population of Gaza is unparalleled in this century (see Table 13.1).
When looking at the total number of dead and wounded, it was
estimated that approximately 83 percent of the dead and the wounded
represented civilian population, 21.8 percent were deaths among children,
8.6 percent were deaths among women, 26 percent of the wounded were
children, and approximately 17 percent of the wounded were women.
Many of the wounded men, women, and children subsequently perished
as a result of the denial of access to medical care. As described above in
the Geneva Conventions, health facilities should be protected during
times of confl ict.
Table 13.1 PHCR summary of deaths and injuries in Gaza during 23-day IOF
offensive by province
Total Northern
Gaza Strip
Gaza City Central
Gaza Strip
Khan
Younis
Rafah
Total Number
of Deaths
1,285 461 534 157 83 50
Civilian Deaths 895 400 314 81 61 39
Deaths among
Children
281 125 106 21 16 13
Deaths among
Women
111 54 41 10 5 1
Total Number
Wounded
4,336 1,914 1,000 530 395 497
Wounded
Children
1,133 591 200 140 100 102
Wounded
Women
735 385 100 90 76 84
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 251
The previously cited report goes on to further describe the devasta-
tion of the attacks in other aspects of Palestinian daily life. There were
upwards of 45,000 internally displaced civilians during this time, as
Palestinians were not allowed to leave the Gaza Strip. Ten thousand
buildings and homes were destroyed. Because a signifi cant portion of
civilian infrastructure was destroyed, including the sewage plant and the
electrical grid, there were no completely functioning hospitals or clinics
that could serve the dead or injured. Banned weapons were used, as will
be further described below, including white phosphorus and dense inert
metal explosives (DIME), and the civil infrastructure that was bombed
included hospitals, schools, and UN buildings.24 Medical providers were
targeted and killed contrary to being protected by the Geneva Conven-
tion. For long periods of time during the two- week period, 800,000
people were without electricity or sanitation.25 The WHO estimated that
95 percent of Palestinians at that time lived in extreme poverty, which
amounts to less than one dollar a day, and hundreds of bodies remained
unearthed for extensive periods of time. During that period Israel did
not allow food, water, and medicine into the Gaza Strip, resulting in
untold number of deaths and injuries. Acute medical care was delayed,
prevented, or denied during that time too.
According to Physicians for Human Rights- Israel, there was evidence
of damage to health facilities on January 13, 2009. This included a
public health clinic destroyed by missiles and administrative buildings of
the Red Crescent Society. According to a WHO publication describing
the health situation in Gaza following the attacks, 48 percent of the
122 health facilities that were assessed were classifi ed as damaged or
destroyed, including 29 ambulances partially damaged or destroyed and
15 hospitals and 41 primary health care facilities damaged or destroyed.26
Electricity and fuel supplies to health care facilities were severely curtailed,
and the hospitals at this time were overwhelmed, frequently having to
accommodate patients on the fl oor because of the lack of space.27
Internationally banned weapons were also used by the Israeli military
against civilian populations and included the use of white phosphorus.
This was clear and undeniable according to Amnesty International in
their January 19, 2009, report.28 When Amnesty International delegates
visited Gaza, they found indisputable evidence of widespread use of
white phosphorus. White phosphorus is a weapon intended to provide a
smokescreen for troop movements in the battlefi eld at night. The Israeli
military appeared to be using it as a weapon during daylight hours, and
Amnesty International found evidence of white phosphorus wedges scat-
tered all around residential buildings and evidence of white phosphorus
burns on many of the wounded.
Furthermore, according to a report by Dr. Mads Gilbert, a member
of the Norwegian triage medical team in Gaza, Israel had turned Gaza
252 Je s s G h a n n a m
into a research laboratory to test out a new banned weapon.29 According
to Dr. Gilbert, the kinds of injuries that he had seen during the team’s
ten- day work in Gaza had proven that DIME was being used. DIME
is believed to have strong biological effects, and Israeli planes attacked
more than 50 targets in Gaza using this experimental weapon. This
genotoxic 100 percent carcinogenic weapon, the Pentagon’s alternative
to depleted uranium- tipped bombs, kills within three months.
The Associated Press reported on January 16, 2009, that the
medical system in Gaza was not only overwhelmed but was also close
to collapse.30 Health facilities numbering 16, including hospitals and
primary health care services, had been damaged by the shelling and
were not able to be fully functional. According to Tony Laurence, the
head of the UN World Health Organization in Gaza, the attacks were
“a grave violation of international humanitarian law.”31 The WHO went
further to report 6 cases where the Israeli army shot at medical teams,
and 12 medical personnel were killed and 17 were injured during the
confl ict. In 15 cases, the Israeli military attacked medical facilities and in
most cases, because of lack of coordination, the wounded were left bleed-
ing to death for anywhere from 2 to 10 hours. An open letter penned on
January 14, 2009, by individuals from a number of organizations includ-
ing the Israeli Information Center for Human Rights in the Occupied
Territories, Center for Defense of the Individual, and Physicians for
Human Rights- Israel, warned of a clear and present danger to the lives
and well- being of tens of thousands of civilians in Gaza at the time, and
reiterated and called upon the government of Israel and the military to
honor the Geneva Convention.32
International Attempts to Break
the Siege of Gaza- The Flotilla
According to a UN report issued after the Gaza invasion, the UN com-
mittee monitoring human rights abuses of Palestinians concluded that the
situation in the Israeli- occupied territory of Gaza and in the West Bank
was worse than it has ever been.33 As part of the UN General Assembly
international fact- fi nding mission, the culmination of which was a report
detailing fi ndings surrounding the Israeli attack of the fl otilla of ships,
there was a conference held on September 27, 2010. This conference
was put together by the Offi ce of the High Commissioner for Human
Rights (OHCHR) and was based and prepared by the fact- fi nding mis-
sion established in June of 2010 that sought to understand the nature of
the May 31, 2010, fl otilla incident. That incident resulted in nine deaths
and many injuries after Israeli forces intercepted and boarded a humani-
tarian aid fl otilla, which was bound for Gaza. It would be impossible to
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 253
understand the nature of the fl otilla incident without having knowledge
of the history of the Gaza blockade.
Since June 2007, humanitarian situation in Gaza has become a matter
of increasing concern, and, in a 2010 statement by the President of the
UN Security Council, the situation was described as unsustainable and
the need for “sustained and regular fl ow of goods and people to Gaza
as well unimpeded provision and distribution of humanitarian assistance
through Gaza” was underscored.34 The report depicted a dire scene
where untreated sewage enters the environment on a daily basis and
there are major health risks posed by dirty water supplies. The report
also concluded and questioned the legality of the naval blockade in ques-
tion, and this will be described in another section. The UN Commission
is confi dent that the aid fl otilla in no way posed any threat, and that the
Israeli reaction was based on fears the fl otilla activists would possibly gain
a public relations victory. The UN mission also noted tension between the
humanitarian goals of the fl otilla and its political goals. There is evidence
in fact that on May 30, 2010, leaders of the ship, the Mavi Marmara,
decided to fi ght back against any attempt by Israel to board the ship, but
there is little evidence of any unifi ed command to defend the ship.
The report went on further to conclude that Israeli soldiers continued
to shoot at wounded civilians as they were lying on the deck, and that the
Israeli commandos used live and soft ammunition. Soldiers handcuffed
detainees, dragging them by their hands and legs, and many fl otilla pas-
sengers captured were not tended to medically and denied access to
attorneys. Passengers were detained for 24 to 72 hours and were taken
to an airport where the UN report describes that there was, “extreme
and unprovoked violence,” by uniformed Israeli personnel against the
passengers. There is one report of an elderly passenger who was beaten
as well as Irish and Turkish passengers who were physically assaulted, and
scenarios in which individuals were attacked by soldiers with batons
and beaten to the ground are described. One Turkish passenger recalled
being taken away and kicked by a group of soldiers until police were
forced to intervene.
Regarding injured passengers who were also treated in Israeli hos-
pitals, some noted adequate care while others described that they were
taunted and pressured to sign documents in Hebrew that they could not
understand. A legal analysis on the treatment of the passengers within
this report describes arbitrary illegal arrest and detention and, “torture
and other cruel inhuman and degrading punishment,” such as the perpe-
tration of physical violence and abuse at the processing center. The mis-
sion considers these acts of torture and violence as defi ned in Article I of
the Convention against Torture and against Article VII and X defi ned in
the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights.
254 Je s s G h a n n a m
Moreover, the passengers and crew who arrived at the prison were not
technically prisoners of war but are described as being treated in a way
that carries the hallmarks of a triumph of a captured prisoner. The detain-
ees were also not allowed to contact their families. There were problems
ensuring that the passengers understood the legal processes since many
did not understand the nature of the proceedings given that the bulk of
it were carried out in Hebrew, not a language that the majority of the
passengers understood. The UN mission confi rmed that a number of
international laws were violated by Israel.
The Future of Accountability: Boycott,
Divestment, and Sanctions
The end of apartheid stands as one of the crowning accomplishments of
the past century, but we would not have succeeded without the help
of international pressure—in particular the divestment movement of
the 1980s. Over the past six months, a similar movement has taken
shape, this time aiming at an end to the Israeli occupation.
Desmond Tutu
Given the vast and extensive nature of Israeli human rights violations
and their consequent profound and signifi cant impacts on the health
conditions of civilian Palestinians, one conclusion that can be made
is that Israeli impunity at committing these human rights violations
remains unchallenged. Consistently, Israel maintains its occupation of
civilian Palestinian territory as well as civilian populations and engages in
activities as evidenced by the invasion in Gaza, the attacks on the fl otilla,
as well as the day- to- day occupation practices in the West Bank. These
violations presently go unaccounted for within the international context
and the various institutions that exist to hold nation- states accountable.
It can be established that nation- states, nongovernmental organiza-
tions, and judicial bodies have failed the people of Palestine. All attempts
to hold Israel accountable for its actions, which include its occupation of
Palestinian land, its siege of Gaza, its willful ability to engage in collective
punishment, and its use of torture of Palestinians who have been held in
detention, have failed and Israel continues to act with impunity.
The governing bodies that are used to hold nation- states accountable
include the United Nations, the International Criminal Court, as well
as the political will of various stakeholders and other nation- states. It
would be easy to conclude at this time that these international entities
and nation- states have failed to hold Israel to account and have failed
Palestinians in their attempt to achieve a just solution. As a result, what
we have witnessed is an attempt to hold Israel accountable through
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 255
other methods, namely, the boycott, divestment, and sanctions (BDS)
movement.
The BDS movement has been well established and described in
many other contexts, especially in regard to the use of BDS in the dis-
mantlement and delegitimization of apartheid in South Africa. In 2002,
Palestinians civil society called for a global BDS movement to be engaged
in to hold Israel to account for its war crimes and human rights viola-
tions. It is important to note that there have been many important BDS
victories on the international stage and the following represents a small
but growing international grassroots’ attempt to begin to hold Israel to
account and to hold it accountable for these human rights violations and
what the Goldstone Report has concluded, action that amounts to crimes
against humanity.
As part of the Palestinian civil society call to nonviolent resistance to
the Israeli occupation of Palestine, a national Palestinian boycott divest-
ment committee was established in 2005. The year 2010 marked the fi fth
anniversary of the Palestinian civil society’s call for the BDS of Israel until
it complies with international law and Palestinian rights. As articulated
above, this movement was inspired by the South African struggle against
apartheid and is rooted in a century- long tradition of the Palestinian
civil and popular struggle for freedom, justice, and human rights.
The BDS call asserts the primacy of
the right to self- determination and addresses the fundamental right of
three major components of the Palestinian people: 1) To live free from
Israeli occupation in the Gaza Strip and the West Bank; 2) To end Israel’s
system of institutionalized racism and discrimination against the Palestinian
citizens; and 3) For the Palestinian refugees and internally displaced great
majority of Palestinian people to exercise their U.N. sanctioned right to
return to their homes of origin and to receive reparations.35
This fundamental call for BDS is based on a progressive antiracist
principle, and in the fi ve years since this was initiated in 2005, it has
been endorsed by a clear majority of Palestinian civil society. This has
included consumer boycotts by a number of businesses including a
number of major international retailers to review their sale of Israeli
produce. This has included the Italian Supermarket Co- op, Nordiconad,
and British supermarkets and Spencer & Company cooperative, which
have all announced that they will cease to sell products from illegal Israeli
settlements.
On March 30, 2010, campaigners from all over the world took part in
the global day of BDS action of all aspects of the BDS movement.36 The
academic boycott is the most challenging form of boycott. In May 2010,
256 Je s s G h a n n a m
the Congress of British University and College Union, the UCU, made
history by voting to boycott the University Center of Ariel in Samaria, an
Israeli illegal colony college in occupied Palestine. Additionally, university
workers in the Canadian Union of Public Employees passed a motion
calling for an academic boycott of Israel in February 2009.
The Palestinian Academic and Cultural
Boycott of Israel
“We have to be careful not to over- exaggerate [sic] on this, but we also
have to be careful not to ignore it,” said Gerald Steinberg, a political
science professor at Bar- Ilan University and cofounder of the Interna-
tional Advisory Board for Academic Freedom. “It is a festering wound
and it needs to be countered, not ignored.” “The danger is not these 15;
the danger is if it (the USACBI) becomes 500” (Gerald Steinberg in the
New York Jewish Daily, Wednesday, February 4, 2009.)
As a result of this, new ideas and analysis as to how to hold Israel
accountable and put pressure on the State of Israel are emerging. One
product of such ideas is the Palestinian campaign for the academic
and culture boycott of Israel (PACBI). This campaign was a call from
Palestinian civil society and was launched in Ramallah in April 2004 by a
group of Palestinian academics. This was an additional call from a grow-
ing international BDS movement that built on the original campaign for
a Palestinian call for a comprehensive economic, cultural, and academic
boycott that was issued in August 2002. In July 2004, this campaign
developed a statement of principles and addressed colleagues from all
over the international community, urging them to “comprehensively and
consistently boycott all Israeli academic and cultural institutions until
Israel withdraws from lands occupied in 1967 including East Jerusalem,
it removes all of its colonies on those lands, it agrees to United Nations
resolutions relevant to the restriction of Palestinian refugee rights, and
it dismantles the system of apartheid.” This statement was met with
consistent worldwide support, and it has been endorsed by at least
60 Palestinian academic, cultural, and other civil society institutions and
includes unions, federations, and employees, essentially all sectors of
Palestinian civil society.
Regarding the US manifestation of PACBI, US- ACBI was launched in
2009 by a group of 15 academics. Since that time, over 500 US- based
academics have signed on to the call for an ACBI.37 The ACBI is
based on and formulated from the PACBI, which issued a worldwide
call for the ACBI as a method for holding Israel to account for its illegal
occupation of Palestine.
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 257
This Palestinian campaign for the academic and cultural boycott of
Israel is inspired by and draws its inspiration from similar efforts to fi ght
injustice in apartheid South Africa. Apartheid South Africa went through
a similar BDS campaign that lasted for some 20 years, which many people
believe led to the eventual dismantlement of the apartheid regime. Over
the past number of years, various calls for divestment, sanctioning, and
economic boycotts of Israeli products, as well as a consistent academic
and cultural boycott of Israeli institutions, has resulted in a signifi cant
worldwide effort and crosses many international bodies from Europe to
the United States, to Latin America, to Africa, and to Southeast Asia.
At its core, the academic and cultural boycott of Israel recognizes that
“Israeli academic institutions that are mostly state- controlled and the vast
majority of Israeli intellectuals and academics have either contributed
directly to the Israeli occupation or at the very least have been complicit
through their silence.”38 It should be noted that in Israel, contrary to the
majority of other nation- states, it is required that all of its citizens except
a small number participate in mandatory military conscription. Further,
until the age of 45, all Israeli citizens, with the exception of those claim-
ing religious exclusion, are required to maintain active participation in
the Israeli military. Moreover, Israeli academic institutions and the Israeli
military are in many ways coextensive, in that close partnerships and
collaborations, inextricable if you will, exist at every level of the Israeli
military and academic establishment.
In heeding the call for an academic and cultural boycott of Israel,
dating back to April 2002, a number of British academics issued a call
for a moratorium on European research and academic collaboration with
Israeli institutions. France, in an appeal to the European Union, called
for nonrenewal of its 1995 association agreement with Israel. Many other
calls published in Italy and Australia were similarly articulated and, in the
United States, student and faculty groups in universities from the East
Coast to the West Coast were involved in the promotion of the academic
and cultural boycott of Israel.
Can BDS Work?—Israel’s Concern
for BDS and the Reut Report
The international grassroots movement seeking to hold Israel to account
for its violations of human rights and war crimes has grown in both
breadth and depth, covering nearly every continent and sector of inter-
national social justice organizations. A recent article published in Coun-
terpunch by James Marc Leas reviews a report from the Reut Institute,
an Israeli think- tank.39 The report was commissioned to address the viral-
like growth of BDS projects and refl ects the growing anxiety in Israel that
258 Je s s G h a n n a m
it is becoming a pariah among nations. The conclusions are compelling
and foreshadow the future of the Israeli response to this global phenom-
enon. The article
validates two of the three demands of the rapidly growing Boycott,
Divest, and Sanctions (BDS) campaign: for ending the occupation and
for equal rights for all Arab- Palestinian citizens of Israel;
admits the concern that Israel will become a pariah state if it fails to end
the occupation and provide equal rights;
asserts that “earnest and consistent commitment to ending occupation”
and “to the equality and integration of its Arab citizens” are critical to
combating delegitimization; and
admits that the delegitimization crisis is “crippling” the Israeli govern-
ment’s freedom to launch such military attacks.
Among the more compelling conclusions is that many of the criticisms of
Israel’s actions can potentially harm the future integrity and viability
of Israel. Clearly the potential of this mass international movement is far
greater than anything initiated at the level of nation- state diplomacy or
nonstate actors. The future of freedom and justice in Palestine seems to
rest in the hands of this grassroots movement and not in the hands of
the diplomats and NGOs. The international community of diplomats,
nations, and NGOs may have failed the people of Palestine in its reluc-
tance to take a fi rm stance against Israel for its human rights violations
perpetrated, but grassroots international communities of individuals
committed to social justice have decided to take action to bring about
freedom and justice in Palestine. Only time will tell if these grassroots
movements will have the power to bring justice and peace to Palestine.
Notes
1. World Health Organization, “25 Questions and Answers on Health and
Human Rights,” July 2002 Health and Human Rights Publication Series,
Issue No. 1.
2. Preamble to the Constitution of the World Health Organization as
adopted by the International Health Conference, New York, June 19–
July 22, 1946; signed on July 22, 1946, by the representatives of
61 States (Offi cial Records of the World Health Organization, no. 2,
p. 100) and entered into force on April 7, 1948. The defi nition has not
been amended since 1948.
3. World Health Organization, “25 Questions and Answers on Health
and Human Rights,”. July 2002 Health and Human Rights Publication
Series, Issue No. 1; See Art. 12 of ICESCR.
4. Ibid., Issue No. 1.
5. Ibid.
●
●
●
●
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 259
6. U.N. General Assembly, 12th Session. Agenda item 7. Human Rights in
Palestine and Other Occupied Arab Territories: Report of the U.N. Fact-
Finding Mission on the Gaza Confl ict. Sept. 25, 2009 (A/HRC/12/48).
Available at: http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/hrcouncil/docs/
12session/ A- HRC-12-48 , Sec. C.2.86. Accessed October 2010.
7. Defense for Children International. “Child Prisoners: The Systematic
and Institutionalized Ill- Treatment and Torture of Palestinian Children
by Israeli Authorities,” June 2009. Available at http://www. dci- pal.org/
english/publ/research/CPReport . Accessed October 2010.
8. Ibid.
9. Ibid., p. 11.
10. OCHA Special Focus. “The Closure of the Gaza Strip: The Economic
and Humanitarian Consequences,” December 2007.
11. Ibid.
12. WFP Food Security and Market Monitoring Report: Report 9, June
2007.
13. Joint agency report from Amnesty International UK, CARE International
UK, Christian Aid, CAFOD, Medecins du Monde UK, Oxfam, Save the
Children UK and Trocaire. “The Gaza Strip: A Humanitarian Implo-
sion,” March 2008. Available at http://www.oxfam.org.uk/resources/
policy/confl ict_disasters/downloads/gaza_implosion , p. 7. Accessed
October 2010.
14. West Bank and Gaza Update, World Bank, Sept. 2006.
15. Joint agency report from Amnesty International UK, CARE International
UK, Christian Aid, CAFOD, Medecins du Monde UK, Oxfam, Save the
Children UK and Trocaire. “The Gaza Strip: A Humanitarian Implo-
sion,” March 2008. Available at http://www.oxfam.org.uk/resources/
policy/confl ict_disasters/downloads/gaza_implosion , p. 5. Accessed
October 2010.
16. Ibid., p. 9.
17. OCHA Special Focus, “The Closure of the Gaza Strip: The Economic
and Humanitarian Consequences,” December 2007. Joint agency report
from Amnesty International UK, CARE International UK, Christian
Aid, CAFOD, Medecins du Monde UK, Oxfam, Save the Children
UK and Trocaire. “The Gaza Strip: A Humanitarian Implosion,”
March 2008. Available at http://www.oxfam.org.uk/resources/policy/
confl ict_disasters/downloads/gaza_implosion , p. 4. Accessed
October 2010.
18. PALTRADE Presentation to PSCC, July 2007.
19. Oxfam Jerusalem / CMWU Gaza February 2008. Cited in Joint agency
report from Amnesty International UK, CARE International UK,
Christian Aid, CAFOD, Medecins du Monde UK, Oxfam, Save the
Children UK and Trocaire. “The Gaza Strip: A Humanitarian Implo-
sion,” March 2008. Available at http://www.oxfam.org.uk/resources/
policy/confl ict_disasters/downloads/gaza_implosion , p. 5. Accessed
October 2010.
20. Ibid., p. 5.
21. Ibid., p. 5.
260 Je s s G h a n n a m
22. Ibid., p. 11.
23. Weekly Report on Israeli Human Rights Violations in the Occupied
Palestinian Territory. March 2009. Available at http://www.pchrgaza.
org/files/W_report/English/2008/pdf/weekly%20report%2003-
09 . Accessed October 2010.
24. U.N. General Assembly, 12th Session. Agenda item 7. Human Rights in
Palestine and Other Occupied Arab Territories: Report of the U.N. Fact-
Finding Mission on the Gaza Confl ict. Sept. 25, 2009 (A/HRC/12/48).
Available at http://www2.ohchr.org/english/bodies/hrcouncil/docs/
12session/ A- HRC-12-48 . Accessed October 2010.
25. Ibid.
26. World Health Organization, UN Offi ce for the Coordination of
Humanitarian Affairs. “Health Situation in the Gaza Strip,” Feb. 4,
2009. Archived from http://www.ochaopt.org/gazacrisis/admin/
output/fi les/ocha_opt_who_gaza situation_report_2009_02_04_english.
pdf on 2009-02-13. http://www.webcitation.org/5eXoiYV1l. Accessed
October 2010.
27. World Health Organization, “WHO Emergency Operational Plan: Gaza
Crisis,” Jan. 13, 2009. Available at http://www.emro.who.int/eha/
PDF/gaza_operation%20plan_13_1_09 . Accessed October 2010.
28. “Israel Used White Phosphorus in Gaza Civilian Areas,” Amnesty
International, Jan. 19, 2009. Available at http://www.amnesty.org/
en/ news- and-updates/news/ israeli- armys- use- white- phosphorus- gaza-
clear- undeniable-20090119. Accessed October 2010.
29. Cohn, Marjorie. “Israel’s Collective Punishment of Gaza,” Huffi ngton
Post, Jan. 6, 2009. Available at http://www.huffi ngtonpost.com/
marjorie-cohn/ israels- collective-punish_b_155700.html. Accessed
October 2010.
30. “Gazans Count Cost of War,” Al Jazeera, Jan. 16, 2009. Available at http://
english.aljazeera.net/news/middleeast/2009/01/200911614413935
1463.html. Accessed October 2010.
31. Ibid.
32. F. El- Ajou, V. C. Barzilay, H. Yaakoby, et al. “A Clear and Present Danger:
An Israeli Call for Urgent Humanitarian Action in Gaza,” Jan. 14, 2009.
Available at http://www.gisha.org/UserFiles/File/Press%20Materials/
HR%20Letter%20Gaza%20ENG%20Jan%2014-08 . Accessed October
2010.
33. U.N. General Assembly, 13th Session. Agenda item 7. Report of the
Special Rapporteur on the situation of human rights in the Palestinian
territories occupied since 1967, Richard Falk, June 7, 2010. (A/HRC/
13/53/Rev.1). Available at http://unispal.un.org/UNISPAL.NSF/0/
33F2A0A73AB185DB8525773E00525D05. Accessed October 2010.
34. U.N. Security Council, 6326th meeting. June 1, 2010 (S/PRST/2010/9).
Available at http://domino.un.org/unispal.nsf/0/e74146ac22d2d71f8
525773600528edb?OpenDocument. Accessed October 2010.
35. “Palestinian BDS National Committee Marks Five Years of Boycotts,
Divestment and Sanctions,” Global BDS Movement, Sept. 7, 2010.
H e a lt h a n d H u m a n R i g h t s i n Pa l e s t i n e 261
Available at http://bdsmovement.net/?q=node/755. Accessed October
2010.
36. “Palestinian BDS National Committee Marks Five Years of Boycotts,
Divestment and Sanctions,” Palestinian Campaign for the Academic &
Cultural Boycott of Israel, July 9, 2010. Available at. http://www.pacbi.
org/etemplate.php?id=1305. Accessed October 2010.
37. “Press Release: USACBI Announces over 500 Academics Have Endorsed
the Academic and Cultural Boycott of Israel,” U.S. Campaign for
the Academic & Cultural Boycott of Israel. USACBI, Sept. 28, 2010.
Available at http://usacbi.wordpress.com/2010/09/20/ press- release-
usacbi- announces-over-500- academics- have- endorsed- the- academic- and-
cultural- boycott-of-israel/. Accessed October 2010.
38. “About the Campaign.” Palestinian Campaign for the Academic &
Cultural Boycott of Israel, Dec. 21, 2008. Available at http://www.
pacbi.org/etemplate.php?id=868. Accessed October 2010.
39. James Marc Leas, “Israeli Think Tank Calls for Sabotaging ‘Delegitimiz-
ers’ of Israel,” Counterpunch, May 21, 2010. Available at http://www.
counterpunch.org/leas05212010.html. Accessed October 2010.
List of Contributors
Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat is Juanita and Joseph Leff Professor of Political Science
and Chair of Political Science Program at Purchase College of the State University
of New York. Her research focuses on democracy and human rights, with an
emphasis on women’s rights. Her publications include numerous journal articles
and book chapters, as well as books such as Democracy and Human Rights in
Developing Countries (1991) and Deconstructing Images of ‘‘The Turkish Woman,’’
(1998), Non- state Actors in the Human Rights Universe (2006); Human Rights
Worldwide (2006); and Human Rights in Turkey (2007). She is the Founding
President of the Human Rights Section of the American Political Science
Association, Chair of the Human Rights Research Committee of the International
Political Science Association, and Co- Chair of the Columbia University Human
Rights Seminar.
Ali Assareh is pursuing a law degree at the New York University School of Law.
His research focuses on the private sector in emerging democracies, human rights
abuses in the Middle East, and Iran’s economy and foreign policy.
Anthony Tirado Chase is Associate Professor of Diplomacy and World Affairs
at Occidental College. His Human Rights in the Arab World: Independent Voices
(coedited with Amr Hamzawy, University of Pennsylvania Press, June 2006)
focuses on the Arab world’s internal articulations of human rights and their
intersections with, respectively, Islam, globalization, transnational advocacy, and
the politics of key states such as Egypt, Morocco, and Yemen. He is author of a
range of peer- reviewed articles dealing with human rights in Muslim societies in
the context of free expression, economic development, and public health.
Lawrence Davidson is professor of History, West Chester University, PA. He is
the author of A Concise History of the Middle East (Arthur Goldschmidt); Foreign
Policy, Inc.: Privatizing America’s National Interest; and Islamic Fundamentalism:
An Introduction.
Manochehr Dorraj is a Professor of Political Science at Texas Christian
University. He has published extensively on politics of the Middle East. Among
his publications are: From Zarathustrato Khomeini: Populism and Dissent in Iran
(1990), The Changing Political Economy of the Third World (1995), Middle East at
the Crossroads (1999), coeditor, Iran Today: An Encyclopedia of Life in the Islamic
Republic. 2 volumes (with Mehran Kamrava, 2008).
Nader Entessar is Professor and Chair of the Department of Political Science
and Criminal Justice at the University of South Alabama. His areas of research
264 L i s t o f C o n t r i bu to r s
have focused on Iran’s foreign policy, ethnic issues in the Middle East, and
North- South relations. His most recent book is Kurdish Politics in the Middle East,
which will be released later this year by Rowman and Littlefi eld/Lexington Books.
Barbara Rieffer- Flanagan is an Associate Professor at Central Washington
University in Washington State. Her research interests revolve around Human
Rights and Humanitarian Politics and Religion and Politics. She has published
a book and articles on Religious Nationalism, Human Rights in Iran and The
International Committee of the Red Cross.
Jess Ghannam is Clinical Professor of Psychiatry and Global Health Sciences
at the University of California, San Francisco, and Adjunct Professor of Ethnic
Studies at San Francisco State University. He is a Psychoanalyst and practices in
San Francisco and the East Bay. Dr. Ghannam specializes in working with chronic
illness, including chronic pain and cancer. He also works and does research in the
area of Global Health and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Dr. Ghannam is also a
Qualifi ed Medical Examiner (QME) for the State of California.
Bahey eldin Hassan has served as Director of the Cairo Institute for Human
Rights since 1994. He is a Founding Member of the Egyptian Organization for
Human Rights and served as its Secretary General from 1988 to 1993. He is
also the recipient of the 1987 Annual Journalism Award of the Egyptian Press
Syndicate for unique coverage of Lebanon war camps. Mr. Hassan is a lecturer
and author on human rights issues and serves on the executive and advisory com-
mittee of various international human rights organizations.
Turan Kayaoğlu is an Associate Professor of International Relations at Univer-
sity of Washington, Tacoma. He is the author of Legal Imperialism: Sovereignty
and Extraterritoriality in Japan, the Ottoman Empire, and China (Cambridge
University Press, 2010). His current research focuses on religion and politics
in international organizations, particularly Islamic politics in the United Nations.
Shadi Mokhtari is an Assistant Professor at the School of International Service
at American University. She is the Editor in Chief of the Muslim World Journal
of Human Rights and the author of After Abu Ghraib: Exploring Human Rights
in America and the Middle East (Cambridge, 2009), which was selected as the
cowinner of the 2010 American Political Science Association Human Rights
Section Best Book Award.
Mahmood Monshipouri is an Associate Professor of International Relations at
San Francisco State University. He specializes in human rights, globalization, and
Middle Eastern Politics. He is the author of Islamism, Secularism and Human
Rights in the Middle East (Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1998), coeditor of Con-
structing Human Rights in the Age of Globali zation (M. E. Sharpe, 2003), and
the author—most recently—of Muslims in Global Politics: Identities, Interests,
and Human Rights (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009). He is currently
working on a book manuscript entitled, Terrorism, Security, and Human Rights
(forthcoming).
Halim Rane is the Deputy Director of the Griffi th Islamic Research Unit and
a lecturer in the National Centre of Excellence in Islamic Studies at Griffi th
L i s t o f C o n t r i bu to r s 265
University in Australia. He is the author of the highly praised book Reconstructing
Jihad amid Competing International Norms (published by Palgrave Macmillan).
His main areas of research and publication include the philosophy of Islamic
law, jihad, Israel- Palestine, and political Islam. He is currently completing a
forthcoming book entitled Islam and Contemporary Civilization (published by
Melbourne University Press).
Jonathon Whooley is a Ph.D. candidate in the Department of Political Science
at the University of Florida. He specializes in the Middle East and North Africa.
He is currently working on issues of Pan- Arabism in the current uprisings in the
Middle East as his dissertation topic.
9/11, 75–76, 82, 84, 194–195
academic and cultural boycott of
Israel (ACBI), 191, 256–257
adversarial relations, 68
Ahmadinejad, M., 100–102, 114,
115
Ahmadi Muslims, 80
Ahmediyas, 154
AKP, 107. See also Justice and
Development Party
al- Assad, B., 195
Alewites, 153
Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, 30
An-Na’im, A. A., 48
antifoundational, 175, 183
anti- Semitism, 31, 37
Arab constitutions, 197
Arab Summits, 201
Arabian peninsula, 191, 227
Amnesty International, 102, 112,
130, 221, 224, 251
Amsterdam Treaty, 148
antireform regimes, 203
apartheid
Israel and Palestine, 247, 255
Arab awakening, 212
Arendt, H, 34, 37
Asayish, 105–106
Assyrian Christians, 105
assimilation, 97
Ataturk, M. K., 106, 131
“atomistic” approach, 60
authoritarianism, 195, 196
Azimi, N., 174
Bacevich, A. J., 216
Bahais, 80, 94
balance of power among
governmental branches, 196
judicial oversight, 197–198
“Battered child syndrome,” 33
Bazargan, M., 113
Beijing World Conferences, 147
Ben Ali, Z. el- A., 193, 195
bottom- up redefi nition of human
rights, 178–179, 184
Bouazizi, M., 193
Boycott, divestment, and sanctions
(BDS)
in Palestine, 191, 255–258
Brzezinski, Z., 216
B’TSelem, 33
Buddhism, 51
Casement, R, 32
checkpoints
Israel, 247
chemical reaction, 182
Chinese Communist Party (CCP),
93
Christianity, 51
civil society, 205
clash of civilizations, 77, 175
“Closed Information Environment,”
28
commercial sexual exploitation,
235
Confucianism, 5–6
Copts, 154, 155–159, 165, 204
Coptic Christians, 154
Index
Convention on the Prevention and
Punishment of the Crime of
Genocide, 37
Convention against Torture, 253
cosmopolitanism, 179–180
counterterrorism, 211–213
cultural exceptionalism, 43
cultural imperialism, 43
“cultural specifi city,” 202
debt bondage, 236
Declaration on the Elimination
of Discrimination against
Women, 147
Declaration on Violence against
Women, 147
decolonization, 180
defamation resolution, 25–26,
74–87
Defense for Children International,
248
democracy promotion, 189,
215, 219, 222
democratization, waves of, 194
demographic youth bulge, 218
dhimmi, 11, 156
domestic workers, 234–236
Donnelly, J., 6
Downs, A., 130
Druze, 94, 154, 160–162, 165
elite contradictions, 203, 204, 205
“enemy combatant,” 220–221
ethnic persecution, 199
ethnonationalism, 97
European Union (EU), 107, 257
experiments of weapon- testing,
251, 252
Falk, R., 214
al- Farabi, 47
Federalism, 99
federal structure, 98
Female literacy rates, 215
feminist debate
in Turkey, 129–146
chart on parties and women’s
rights in Turkey, 132–133
education, 137, 138, 139, 142
“equal pay for equal work”,
138, 142, 143, 146
Equal Renumeration
Convention, 146
European Union pressure, 147
essentialism, 137, 139, 140
feminist demands, 144
military coup, 139
multiparty era, 135–139
one- party rule, 134–135
Ottoman party politics, 131
paternalism, 137, 139, 140
problem- solving, 141
pro- natal emphasis, 135, 136,
138, 139, 141, 142, 143, 144
rejection of feminism, 142
technical training, 135
violence, 145
Women’s Union, 146
First Amendment, 79–83
fi rst generation of rights, 42–43
fl otilla incident
Israel and Turkey, 252–254
food aid, 248
Forsythe, D. P., 223
Freedom House, 194
freedom of expression, 73, 82, 199
press restrictions in Iran, 114
freedom of religion, 69–70
freedom of speech, 79–80, 113
Ganji, A., 112
gay missionaries, 175
Gaza Strip, 247–255
Gaza assault, 250
gender equality, 66–68
Geneva Convention, 247
genocide, 36, 95–96. See also
Lemkin, Raphael
Genocide Convention of 1948,
95–96
268 I n d e x
I n d e x 269
globalism, 24
gradualism, 202
Granitsas, A., 28
Greater Middle East Initiative
(GMEI), 200
Greco- Roman statecraft, 51
Guantanamo Bay, 213, 220
hate speech, 25
health rights, 191, 246–247
Hizbullah, 162, 165
Hofstadter, R, 30
Hospitals
in Israel and Palestine, 249–252
Howard- Hassmann, R. E., 86
Hudud, 62
“humanitarian intervention,” 8, 212
human collateral damage, 237
human rights NGOs, 4, 112
Human Rights Watch, 33, 105, 173
Hussein, S., 95, 104, 195, 196, 203
Arabization policy, 104
Ibn Rushid, 4
Ignatieff, M., 179
ILO conventions, 231
ijtihad, 44, 50, 60
individualism, 43
inhumane treatment, 91
intellectual protest
Iran, 114
internally displaced civilians, 251
International Covenant on Civil and
Political Rights, 60, 81, 253
International Covenant on Economic,
Social and Cultural Rights
(ICESCR), 60
International norm, 73
involuntary servitude, 236
Iranian Revolution, 113
Islam, 60
Islamophobia, 1, 73–87, 202
European Monitoring Centre
on Racism and Xenophobia
(EUMC), 74
Israeli lobby, 203
Israeli military, 257
Istiqra, 61
Jewish National Fund, 31
Jewish Virtual Library, 31
jihad, 77, 84
jizya, 11, 153, 156
Judaism, 51
judicial oversight, 198
judicial remedies, 233–234
judiciary, 194
Justice and Development Party
(AKP), 49, 107
Jyllands Posten, 81
“Kefaya” movement, 204
kharaj, 154
Khomeini, A., 113, 121
Khatami, M., 99–102
Khomeini, R., 113–115, 121
Kirkuk, 104
Kirkuk referendum, 104
Kofr, 45
Komala, 102–103
Kurds, 12, 31, 95–108, 153,
162–165
Assimilation, 97
Discrimination, 95–108
Human Rights Organization of
Kurdistan (KROK), 103
Iraqi Kurds, 13, 95, 97–98,
103–108, 199
Iranian Kurds, 97, 99–103
Kurdish nationalism, 163
“Kurdish problem,” 107
Kurdish question, 3
Kurdish Democratic Party
(KDP), 105–106
Kurdish Democratic Party of
Iran (KDPI), 99
Kurdish Independent Life Party
(PJAK), 101–102
Kurdish women’s rights
groups, 102
270 I n d e x
Kurdistan, 101
Kurdistan Regional
Government, 104, 164
Kurdistan Workers’ Party
(PKK), 101, 163
Kurds in Turkey, 97–98,
103–108
Patriotic Union of Kurdistan
(PUK), 106
Self- determination, 103–108
Lefort, C., 184
Lemkin, R., 35–37
Levey, G. B., 85
liberal democracy, 92
Liberal political theory, 82
Linguistic manipulation, 248, 253,
254
maqasid, 25, 57–70
marginalization, 161, 165
Maronites, 153
Maronite Christians, 155,
161, 165
Massad, J., 175–178, 181
refutations against, 176
migrant workers, 13, 227–230
military interventions
in Turkey, 131
minority rights, 68–69, 80, 97
modernity, 60
Modood, T., 85
mohareb, 103
Mojahedin (MEK), 113
monotheistic traditions, 94
Moyn, S., 179, 182
Mubarak, H., 156, 159, 177, 193,
195
Muhammad, 47, 62
Cartoons, 81, 85, 203. See also
Jyllands Posten
Mulla Umar, 25
multiculturalism, 26, 86
multiethnic societies, 97
Muslim Brotherhood, 49
Muslim youth, 217
Nasser, J. A., 157
nation- building, 211, 215, 222
national sovereignty, 39
natural localism, 28–30
neoconservatives, 28
Nineveh Plains, 105
normative polarization, 77
Nuremberg trials, 36
Offi ce for the Coordination of
Humanitarian Affairs
(OCHA), 249
Offi ce of the High Commissioner
for Human Rights
(OHCHR), 252
one party rule
in Turkey, 131
Organization of Islamic Conference
(OIC), 80–81
Orientalism, 1
Original sin, 67
OXFAM, 249
Palestinian Authority, 196
Palestinian Center for Human
Rights (PHCR), 249
Pan- Arabism, 53
Pan- Islamism, 53
paranoid politics, 30
patrilineal kinship, 195
pentagon, 252
Perry, M, 42
Persian Gulf, 229
Pluralism, 97
political elite discourse, 131
Polygamy, 9
positive discrimination, 145
postconfl ict societies, 8
post- Islamism, 52
power elite, 32
pragmatic Islam, 5
preemption, 214
Kurds – continued
I n d e x 271
preemptive strike, 222
prison conditions
in Iran, 113, 114
in Israel, 248, 254
profi ling of Muslims, 76
promoting democracy, 211,
218. See also democracy
promotion
Qaddafi , M., 195
Qaderi, S., 102
al- Qaeda, 213, 218
Qaradawi, Y., 63
Qutb, S., 45–46
Rahman, F., 64
rape
Bosnia, 204
Darfur, 204
recruitment agencies, 232
Reformasi, 9
religious pluralism, 5
reproductive freedom, 5
resistance to democratization in the
Arab world, 193–194
responsibility to protect, 8, 17
Reut Institute report
Israeli isolation, 257–258
Russian Pale, 31
Saeed, A., 63–65
Al- Sadat, A., 157
Salafi s, 45, 200
Saleh, A. A, 193, 195
Saudi Arabia, 200
second generation rights, 92,
111–128
self- determination, 92, 103
self- immolation, 102
servitude, 235
sewage treatment, 253
sexual orientation
global women’s women, relation
to, 145, 179, 182–183
in Arab states, 171–185
circular relationship of human
rights, 172–174
debates of rights and
orientation, 174, 175
international legal redefi nition
of, 178–182
nationalism, 177
political- moral “panic,” 174
Queen Boat case, Egypt, 173
“Western” export of
homosexuality, 175
repression of gender and sex, 183
sexual traffi cking, 234–237
sexuality, 177
Shari’a, 11, 44–50, 58–60, 114,
154, 157–158
Al- Shatibi, A. I., 61
Shii and Sunni relations, 199
social contract, 30, 42
socialization of states, 111
socioeconomic rights, 43
Soroush, A. K., 47–48, 114
Spiral model, 118–120
student protests
Iran, 113, 114
Risse, T., and K. Sikkink, 111,
118–119. See also spiral
model
Taliban, 25
terrorism, 190, 211–226
thought collective, 29
torture, 199, 219, 220
transnational norms, 181
Tunisian uprisings, 217
tyranny, 194
UAE government, 228
UAE labor law, 227–228, 231
Umma, 46, 50
unemployment
in Palestine, 249
Universal Declaration of Human
Rights, 37, 41, 51, 59, 76,
147, 180, 246
272 I n d e x
universality, 171
UN Convention on the
Elimination of All Forms
of Discrimination against
Women (CEDAW), 143, 147
UN Declaration on the Elimination
of All Forms of Intolerance
and of Discrimination Based
on Religion or Belief, 74. See
also defamation resolution
UN General Assembly (UNGA),
75, 77
UN Human Rights Council (HRC),
75, 77, 79
USA Patriot Act, 220
Valayati- i Faqih, 47
Wafd, 156
wage protection system (WPS), 232
Wahhabis, 45
war on terror, 8, 16, 212, 218–219,
222
war outsourcing, 219, 222
women and children’s rights, 200,
248, 250
World Conference on Human
Rights in Vienna, 42
World Health Organization
(WHO), 249
in Israel and Palestine, 246
Xenophobia, 76, 85
youth
movements, 205
organizations, 190
Zakat, 11, 47
Zionist, 32, 37
Cover
Contents
List of Tables
Acknowledgments
Introduction
Part I: Introduction I: Problems with the Current Frameworks
1 Framing the Human Rights Discourse: The Role of Natural Localism and the Power of Paradigm
2 Islam and Human Rights: Ideals and Practices
3 Human Rights through the Lens of Islamic Legal Thought
4 Islamophobia, Defamation of Religions, and International Human Rights
Part II: Introduction II: Common Goals and Case Studies
5 Human Rights and the Kurdish Question in the Middle East
6 The Janus Nature of Human Rights in Iran: Understanding Progress and Setbacks on Human Rights Protections since the Revolution
7 From Omission to Reluctant Recognition: Political Parties’ Approach to Women’s Rights in Turkey
8 Minorities and Marginalized Communities in the Middle East: The Case for Inclusion
9 Lessons from Movements for Rights Regarding Sexual Orientation in the Arab World
Part III: Introduction III: Strategies
10 A Prospect of Democratic Uprisings in the Arab World
11 Counterterrorism, Nation-building, and Human Rights in the Middle East: Complementary or Competing Interests?
12 Migrant Workers and Their Rights in the United Arab Emirates
13 Health and Human Rights in Palestine:The Siege and Invasion of Gaza and the Role of the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions Movement
List of Contributors
Index
1
Routledge Handbook on Human
Rights and the Middle East and
North Africa
Recent events su as ‘Iran’s Green Revolution’ and the ‘Arab
Uprisings’ have exploded notions that human rights are irrelevant to
Middle Eastern and North African politics. Increasingly seen as a
global concern, human rights are at the fulcrum of the region’s on-
the-ground politics, transnational intellectual debates, and global
political intersections.
e Routledge Handbook on Human Rights and the Middle East and
North Africa:
emphasises the need to consider human rights in all their
dimensions, rather than solely focusing on the political
dimension, in order to understand the structural reasons
behind the persistence of human rights violations;
explores the various frameworks in whi to consider human
rights—conceptual, political and transnational/international;
discusses issue areas subject to particularly intense debate—
gender, religion, sexuality, transitions and accountability;
contains contributions from perspectives that span from
global theory to grassroots reflections, emphasising the need
for academic work on human rights to seriously engage with
the thoughts and practices of those working on the ground.
2
A multidisciplinary approa from solars with a wide range of
expertise allows the book to capture the complex dynamics by whi
human rights have had, or could have, an impact on Middle Eastern
and North African politics. is book will therefore be a key
resource for students and solars of Middle Eastern and North
African politics and society, as well as anyone with a concern for
Human Rights across the globe.
Anthony Tirado Chase is a Professor in International Relations at
Occidental College, USA. Professor Chase is a theoretician of human
rights, most oen in the context of the Middle East.
3
Routledge Handbook on Human
Rights and the Middle East and
North Africa
Edited by Anthony Tirado Chase
4
First published 2017
by Routledge
2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
6
ISBN: 978-1-13880767-9 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-31575097-2 (ebk) Typeset in Bembo
by Sunrise Seing Ltd, Brixham, UK
7
anks
Many thanks to my resear assistants Keith Jones and Beebe
Sanders for their invaluable help in editing this volume.
8
Dedication
Dedicated to the sweet memory of Ruth Flora Tirado Chase. My
mother passed on the sense that nothing is worth doing unless it is
an epic adventure. is book—and all that led to its creation—is
saturated with that spirit. Death is not an end; the spirit lives on
through the acts it continues to inspire.
Front cover artist: Ganzeer
Cover art: “Of course, Harara, 2014”
Art description: A portrait of Ahmed Harara. Harara is an Egyptian
activist who lost one eye to a bullet during the January 28, 2011
“Friday of Anger” protests. ese protests were part of what led to
Hosni Mubarak’s fall from power on February 11, 2011. Harara lost
his other eye during anti-military protests near the Ministry of
Interior on November 19, 2011. at day’s clashes are known as the
“Bale of the Eyes of Freedom,” as Harara was just one of many
protestors to lose eyes to sniper fire.
Overlaid in red on Harara’s portrait is the o-repeated Egyptian
army slogan “e army has, of course, protected the revolution.”
Designed in Cairo, Egypt, 2013.
9
Contents
Cover
Title
Copyright
Dedication
CONTENTS
Editor biography
List of contributors
PART I Frameworks
SECTION I Introduction and overview
1 Human rights and the Middle East and
North Africa: indivisibility, social rights,
and structural ange
Anthony Tirado Chase
SECTION II A conceptual framework: political,
economic, and cultural rights in the Middle East
and North Africa
2 Political legitimacy, contingency, and
rights in the Middle East and North Africa
Hussein Banai
3 Economic rights in the Middle East and
North Africa
Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat
kindle:embed:0006?mime=image/jpg
10
4 Cultural rights in the Middle East and
North Africa: art, revolution, and
repression
Mark LeVine
SECTION III A political framework: intersecting
human rights and governance crises in the
Middle East and North Africa
5 Genocide in the contemporary Middle
East: a historical and comparative regional
perspective
Martin Shaw
6 e ISIS crisis and the broken politics of
the Arab World: a framework for
understanding Radical Islamism
Nader Hashemi
7 e impact of the AKP on human rights
in Turkey: one step forward, two steps
ba
Turan Kayaoglu
8 e politics of human rights in Iran
since the Green Movement
Shadi Mokhtari and Neda Nazmi
9 Narrating law: Israel and the Occupied
Territories
Kathleen Cavanaugh
10 e United States and Israeli violations
of international humanitarian law
Stephen Zunes
SECTION IV A transnational and international
framework: human rights beyond borders
11
11 Rival transnational advocacy networks
and Middle East politics at the U.N.
Human Rights Council
Laura K. Landolt
12 Redefining rights: Organization of
Islamic Cooperation aempts to reshape
values in the U.N. human rights system
Ann Mayer
13 Human rights, youth, and tenology:
agents of ange?
Mahmood Monshipouri
14 Rights, refugees, and the case of Syria:
what do human rights offer?
Kathleen Hamill
PART II Issues
SECTION V Gender and human rights in the
Middle East and North Africa
15 Colliding rights and wrongs: intimate
labor, health, human rights, and the state
in the Gulf
Pardis Mahdavi
16 Turning ba the clo: population
policy and human rights in Iran
Homa Hoodfar
17 Women’s rights in the Middle East:
constitutions and consequences
Anicée Van Engeland
18 e Arab uprisings and the future of
human rights
Micheline Ishay
12
SECTION VI Religion and human rights in the
Middle East and North Africa
19 Shari`ah and human rights
Khaled Abou El Fadl
20 Islam, the principle of subjectivity, and
individual human rights
Barbara Ann Rieffer-Flanagan
21 e OIC, human rights, and religion:
rejection, reconciliation, or
reconceptualization?
Marie Juul Petersen
22 Rhetoric versus reality: American
foreign policy and religious freedom in
the Middle East
Barbara Ann Rieffer-Flanagan
SECTION VII Transitions and accountability in
the Middle East and North Africa
23 Core transitional justice debates in the
Middle East and beyond
Eric Wiebelhaus-Brahm
24 Courts as a tool in transitions: lessons
from the special tribunal for Lebanon
Chandra Lekha Sriram
25 Lessons on transitioning from
authoritarianism: pitfalls and promise
from Tunisia’s experience
Rim El Gantri
26 e impact of impunity on violating
cultural rights in Morocco
Osire Glacier
13
PART III Conclusions: global theory and grassroots
reflections
SECTION VIII Conclusions from a global
viewpoint: theoretical justifications and
contestations around human rights
27 International human rights at 70: has
the Enlightenment project run aground?
David P. Forsythe
28 On the local relevance of human rights
Koen de Feyter
29 Israel/Palestine, human rights and
domination
Nicola Perugini and Neve Gordon
30 e quest for constructive criticism:
critical approaes to human rights
Alison Brysk
31 Making human rights ‘universals’ from
the ground up?
Lisa S. Alfredson
SECTION IX Conclusions from a grassroots
viewpoint: reflections on dynamics around
struggles for human rights in the Middle East
and North Africa
32 Reflections on three decades of human
rights work in the Arab region
Fateh Azzam
33 Egypt 2011–15: how can a democratic
revolution fail to improve human rights
conditions?
Amr Hamzawy
14
34 Reflections on human rights before and
aer the Arab Spring
Bahey eldin Hassan
35 Human rights, law and politics: a
reflection on human rights work in the
Middle East and North Africa
Lynn Welchman
Index
15
Editor Biography
Anthony Tirado Chase is a Professor in International Relations at
Occidental College, USA. Professor Chase is a theoretician of human
rights, most oen in the context of the Middle East. His most recent
article is “Human Rights Contestations: Sexual Orientation and
Gender Identity” in International Journal of Human Rights (April,
2016). His previous books are Human Rights, Revolution, and Reform
in the Muslim World (2012) and Human Rights in the Arab World:
Independent Voices (co-edited with Amr Hamzawy, 2006).
16
Contributors
Dr. Khaled Abou El Fadl is the Omar and Azmeralda Alfi
Distinguished Professor in Islamic Law at the University of
California, Los Angeles Sool of Law. He is the author of fourteen
books on various topics in Islam and Islamic law, including his most
recent work Reasoning with God: Reclaiming Shari`ah in the Modern
Age (Rowman & Lilefield, 2014).
Lisa S. Alfredson is an Assistant Professor at the University of
Pisburgh Graduate Sool of Public and International Affairs. She
is the author of the book, Creating Human Rights (University of
Pennsylvania Press, 2008), as well as numerous policy reports for
international human rights organizations.
Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat is Professor of Political Science at the
University of Connecticut. Exploring both theoretical and empirical
questions of human rights, with an emphasis on women’s rights and
their interpretation/application in Islamic and Turkish contexts, she
published numerous books and articles on human rights and their
relation to democracy, development and globalization.
Fateh Azzam is the Director of the Asfari Institute for Civil Society
and Citizenship, and Senior Policy Fellow at the Issam Fares Institute
for Public Policy and International Relations, both at the American
University in Beirut. He previously served as the Middle East
Regional Representative of the U.N. High Commissioner for Human
Rights, Director of Forced Migration and Refugee Studies at the
17
American University in Cairo, Human Rights Program Officer at the
Ford Foundation in Lagos and Cairo, and Director of the Palestinian
organization Al-Haq. He led the process of establishing the Arab
Human Rights Fund.
Hussein Banai is an Assistant Professor in the Department of
International Studies at the Sool of Global and International
Studies at Indiana University.
Alison Brysk is Melliamp Chair of Global Governance at the
University of California, Santa Barbara. She is the author and editor
of ten volumes on international human rights.
Kathleen Cavanaugh is socio-legal solar and currently a Lecturer
in the Faculty of Law, Irish Centre for Human Rights, National
University of Ireland, Galway.
Koen De Feyter is Professor of International Law at the Resear
Group on Law and Development of the University of Antwerp,
Belgium.
Rim El Gantri is a transitional justice expert who is currently head
of office at the International Center for Transitional Justice, Nepal.
She led the ICTJ Tunisia program for about five years. Notable
among her published writings is “Tunisia in Transition: One Year
Aer the Creation of the Truth and Dignity Commission.”
David P. Forsythe is University Professor and Charles J. Ma
Distinguished Professor of Political Science Emeritus, at the
University of Nebraska-Lincoln. He taught various aspects of
International Relations for forty-two years, with special aention to
human rights and humanitarian affairs.
18
Osire Glacier teaes in the Department of Politics and
International Studies at Bishop’s University. She is the author of
Universal Rights, Systemic Violations and Cultural Relativism in
Morocco (New York: Palgrave-Macmillan, 2013); and Political Women
in Morocco, Then and Now (Trenton: Africa World Press, 2013).
Neve Gordon is a Professor of Politics at Ben-Gurion University in
Israel and is the author of Israel’s Occupation (California: University
of California Press, 2008) and co-author of The Human Right to
Dominate (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015).
Kathleen Hamill is an independent human rights lawyer and
Visiting Solar and Fellow at Harvard’s FXB Center for Health and
Human Rights. Hamill is also affiliated with the Fleter Sool of
Law and Diplomacy at Tus University as an Adjunct Assistant
Professor.
Amr Hamzawy is a Professor at both American University in Cairo,
and Cairo University. Dr. Hamzawy is a former member of both the
Egyptian People’s Assembly and the Egyptian National Council for
Human Rights, as well as author of, A Margin for Democracy in
Egypt – The Story of An Unsuccessful Transition (in Arabic), among
other books.
Nader Hashemi is an Associate Professor of Middle East and Islamic
Politics and the Director of the Center for Middle East Studies at the
University of Denver’s Josef Korbel Sool of International Studies.
Bahey eldin Hassan is the Director of the Cairo Institute for Human
Rights Studies. He has authored and edited many books, apters,
and articles on human rights in the Arab region.
Homa Hoodfar is Professor of Anthropology at Concordia
University. Her primary resear and expertise lies in the
19
intersection of political economy, gender and development and
women’s movements and electoral politics in the Middle East.
Mieline Ishay is Professor of International Studies and Human
Rights at the Korbel Sool of International Studies at the University
of Denver. She is the author and editor of numerous books, including
Internationalism and Its Betrayal, The Nationalism Reader, The
History of Human Rights: From Ancient Times to the Era of
Globalization, and The Human Rights Reader.
Turan Kayaoglu is a Professor of International Relations at the
Sool of Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences, University of
Washington, Tacoma. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Muslim World
Journal of Human Rights.
Laura K. Landolt is Associate Professor of Political Science at
Oakland University. She examines relationships between state power
and human rights advocacy.
Mark LeVine is Professor of Modern Middle Eastern History at
University of California, Irvine, and a Distinguished Visiting
Professor at Lund University’s Center for Middle Eastern Studies. He
is currently helping to lead a resear team with the American
University of Beirut to study the evolution of human rights
discourses in the Arab world.
Pardis Mahdavi, PhD, is Associate Professor at Pomona College and
director of its Pacific Basin Institute. Her resear interests include
gendered labor, human traffiing, migration, sexuality, human
rights, youth culture, transnational feminism and public health in
the context of anging global and political structures.
Ann Elizabeth Mayer is an Emeritus Associate Professor of Legal
Studies and Business Ethics at the Wharton Sool of the University
20
of Pennsylvania. Her resear areas include Islamic law in the
contemporary Middle East and North Africa and international
human rights law, and the fih edition of her book Islam and
Human Rights was published in 2012.
Shadi Mokhtari is an Assistant Professor at the Sool of
International Service at American University. Her resear focuses
on the local and international politics of human rights in the Middle
East.
Mahmood Monshipouri teaes Middle Eastern Politics at San
Francisco State University and University of California, Berkeley. He
is editor, most recently, of Information Politics, Protests, and Human
Rights in the Digital Age (New York: Cambridge University Press,
2016) and Inside the Islamic Republic: Social Change in Post-
Khomeini Iran, (London: Hurst & Company, forthcoming).
Neda Nazmi is an expert in Iranian politics and civil society
development. She holds Masters degrees from American University
and Allameh Tabataba`i University, and a BA in Political Science
from Tehran University.
Nicola Perugini is Mellon Postdoctoral Fellow at Brown University
and co-author of The Human Right to Dominate (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2015).
Marie Juul Petersen is a sociologist of religion with a PhD from
Copenhagen University. She works at the Danish Institute for
Human Rights as a senior researer.
Barbara Rieffer-Flanagan is a Professor of Political Science at
Central Washington University. Her resear and teaing focus on
the intersection of religion, politics and human rights.
21
Martin Shaw is a sociologist of global politics, war and genocide. He
is Resear Professor at the Institut Barcelona d`Estudis
Internacionals, Professorial Fellow in International Relations and
Human Rights at the University of Roehampton, London, and
Emeritus Professor of the University of Sussex.
Chandra Lekha Sriram is a solar of human rights and peace
processes, and has conducted resear globally, including in
Lebanon. She is Professor of International Law and International
Relations and Director of the Centre on Human Rights in Conflict at
the University of East London.
Bassam Tibi, born in Damascus, was Professor of International
Relations until his retirement in 2009 from the University of
Göingen. He also taught and researed at eighteen further
universities including Harvard, Princeton, Yale and the latest,
Cornell University, where he acted as A. D. White Professor between
2006 and 2010.
Anicée Van Engeland is a Resear Fellow at the Oxford Centre for
Socio-Legal Studies and a Lecturer in law and religious studies at
Cardiff University.
Lynn Welman is Professor of Law in the Middle East and North
Africa at SOAS, University of London. Prior to becoming an
academic she worked with non-governmental organizations (NGOs)
in the Arab human rights movement, mostly in Palestine but also
elsewhere in the Middle East and North Africa, an engagement she
has sought to maintain since joining SOAS.
Eric Wiebelhaus-Brahm is Assistant Professor of Political Science
at the University of Arkansas at Lile Ro. His resear interests
include transitional justice, human rights, post-conflict
reconstruction, and democratization.
22
Stephen Zunes is a Professor of Politics and coordinator of Middle
Eastern Studies at the University of San Francisco. His resear focus
includes human rights, U.S. foreign policy, strategic nonviolent
action, and Middle Eastern/North African politics.
23
Part I
Frameworks
24
Section I
Introduction and overview
25
1
Human Rights and the Middle East
and North Africa
Indivisibility, social rights, and structural
ange
Anthony Tirado Chase
26
Introduction
In conceptualizing this Handbook, I have sought to highlight original
solarship from authors with a record of innovative approaes to
human rights in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA). e goal
in doing so is simple: to capture in ways that cannot be done in
traditional solarly approaes the complex dynamics by whi
human rights have had or could have an impact on MENA politics.
is is not an abstract goal. e stakes in this Handbook’s
intellectual conversations are high at a time in whi recent popular
uprisings inflected by human rights principles have been violently
repressed everywhere from Iran, across the Arab world, and in
Turkey. In their place, long dominant authoritarianisms are
resurgent. ese authoritarianisms vary among secular, ethnic,
and/or Islamist justifications, but share a common foundation in
some form of nationalist sectarianism. e region’s resurgent
authoritarianisms show a resilience and ability to morph into
progressively more brutal systems of power that leave many with
the sense that there is no alternative.
is pessimism is quite reasonable given the MENA’s post-
colonial inheritance of despotic power structures, current realities of
failed governance that have exacerbated divisions along many fault
lines, and extra-regional forces that consistently reinforce anti-
pluralistic forces out of a misbegoen sense of “self-interest.”
Nonetheless, it is also worth remembering that human rights have
long been part of informing subterranean articulations of
alternatives to dominant forms of culture, economics, politics, and
society in the MENA. e saliency of these alternatives emerged
quite visibly—in artistic allenge, economic rebellion, political
rebellion, and social resistance—during the popular uprisings that
27
swept the region from 2009 to 2013. But, now that the hope
represented by those uprisings seems a distant memory, there has
been a return by many in academic and policy-making circles to
status quo thinking that assumes the MENA is solely defined by
oices between competing patriaral authoritarianisms. Saudi
monarical Wahhabism or Iranian Shi`a theocratism? Egyptian
secular military rule or anti-pluralist Islamisms? Syrian-style
“stability” or fiefdoms ruled by warlords? ese and other su
binaries are not just false oices, they are dangerously misleading
ones. Lazily taking them as a frame effaces other possibilities,
serving the purposes of elites invested in their perpetuation with
devastating results for the region’s peoples, societies, and states, as
well as the broader regional and global order.
Most specific to this Handbook’s purposes, those frames have
limited thought about even the possibility of alternatives to the
status quo. Su possibilities have, nonetheless, persisted in many
domains. is introduction’s overview of the Handbook’s three parts,
nine sections, and thirty-five apters shows how human rights, in
particular, have become interwoven with discourses that reject false
oices between exclusivist nationalisms. ese human rights-
inflected discourses have sought, instead, to somehow make space in
the MENA’s political, economic, cultural, and social structures for
pluralisms of different sorts. I will conclude this introductory apter
by aempting to show the importance of pluralism in the social
domain, with particular reference to sexual orientation and gender
identity-related (SOGI) rights. I argue that connecting social
resistances to human rights is not just important in isolation; it is
connected to sustaining interconnected resistances in the cultural,
economic, and political rights’ spheres.
In that light, the goal in this Handbook of coming to terms with
human rights’ potential impacts is ambitious, but more realistic than
it might appear at first glance. It is, in essence, an aempt to make
sense of how rights have been part of varieties of resistances against
28
dominant power structures—local, domestic, regional, and
international—and, beyond that, what the variables are that will
determine if they may do so more successfully in the future.
29
Pushing human rights solarship into
indivisibility, intersections,
multidisciplinarity, and beyond
Aempting to accomplish this goal has meant calling on solars
who in diverse ways—sometimes in disagreement with ea other
and, indeed, in disagreement with my own views—are at the cuing
edge in thought about what human rights are, how they can be
relevant to the MENA, and ways in whi specific contexts in the
MENA condition whether human rights will or will not have an
impact. e contributors were osen to represent a range of
disciplines as well as regional and thematic expertise. Part I of the
Handbook includes sections that, aer Section I’s introduction,
further situate the reader within frameworks for thinking about
human rights in the MENA. Section II gives a conceptual framework
inclusive of different categories of human rights—from social rights
to political, economic, and cultural rights. Section III gives a political
framework inclusive of key countries, sub-regions, and the U.S. as an
omnipresent external hegemon. Section IV gives a transnational and
international framework that makes clear the intersecting levels in
global politics through whi dynamics around human rights play
out, and how powerful states increasingly contest human rights at
all of these levels. Part II’s sections focus the reader on issue areas
that have been subject to particularly intense debate. Section V
explores gender as a key baleground in bales over human rights’
relevance in the MENA. Section VI gives different points of view on
the intersections of religion and human rights in the predominantly
Muslim MENA. Section VII takes on transitions and accountability
and the overaring question of whether or not normative demands
30
for ange can be sustained through representative processes and
institutions.
Part III contains two concluding sections that end the Handbook
in a particularly distinctive manner. Section VIII’s Conclusions from
a global viewpoint: theoretical justifications and contestations
around human rights calls on human rights theoreticians with a
global perspective to shed light on human rights in the MENA. e
MENA is not an insular region disconnected from global currents,
including those in academic circles. To the contrary, academic
conversations about human rights’ history, relation to the state, and
their contradictory dynamics in many parts of the world can and
should inform solarship on human rights and the MENA. One
emphasis in recent human rights solarship, as evidenced in these
apters, is a move beyond traditional linear histories of human
rights that see them as having progressively grown out of
Enlightenment thought and post-WWII history. A top down
diffusion of human rights from a singular foundation—philosophical
or historical—is increasingly seen as less important to human rights’
resonance (or la of resonance) than the degree to whi human
rights have been malleable enough to be seized and repurposed as
useful tools to grassroots struggles in many different contexts around
the globe.
is is directly relevant to the MENA and, as su, informs the
conceptualization of Section IX’sConclusions from a grassroots
viewpoint: reflections on dynamics around struggles for human
rights in the Middle East and North Africa. ese apters come
from solar-practitioners who reflect on their decades of work on
human rights in the region. It is a key premise of this Handbook that
academic work on human rights in the MENA should more seriously
engage with the reflections of those working on the ground. is is
all too oen missing in theoretical work on human rights in general
and, most egregiously, on human rights in the MENA. Lynn
Welman pertinently concludes this section and this Handbook
31
with the observation that academics need to be open to being
‘surprised’ —that is to having their theoretical assumptions
overturned by taking seriously the normative commitments and
intellectual analyses of those on the ground. It is my hope that the
Handbook consistently highlights precisely these sorts of unexpected
surprises that flow out of tangible engagements with human rights
in the MENA.
As a starting point in opening the path to finding su surprises,
the Handbook’s approa is one that is informed throughout by
themes of indivisibility, intersections (and, in this apter’s
conclusion, intersectionality), and multidisciplinarity. Indivisibility,
in particular, is key to any serious human rights solarship, yet too
oen we still see human rights in the MENA discussed in segmented
categories. Virtually any rights issue, to the contrary, can and should
be contextualized in multiple dimensions rather than as simply
within one category su as ‘political.’ To understand the structural
reasons behind the persistence of human rights’ violations, it is
essential to recognize that these violations take place in the context
of systems of power that function simultaneously in the cultural,
economic, political, and social spheres. Resistance against su
violations, in parallel, has been most powerful when it has
functioned across these spheres. Intellectual accountings of human
rights must take into account, therefore, all of these dimensions if
they are to make sense of controversies and contestations that
revolve around human rights. As will be seen, this is a recurring
theme throughout the Handbook.
Beyond rights’ indivisibility, this Handbook’s apters are also
informed by a focus on intersections—that is, how it is that human
rights intersect with a range of issues and, more broadly, how rights’
violations on su issues feed into domestic crises in governance and
security. e theoretical assumption in this regard is that human
rights are an urgent maer even from the most realpolitik of
perspectives. Rights’ violations are not discrete and disconnected
32
but, rather, are intimately related to many of the globe’s geopolitical
crises that—from wars without borders to global refugee flows—have
their roots in systematic human rights’ violations. Given the
destructive regional and global impacts of su crises, it is crucial to
shine a light on how rights’ violations are at their heart.
As these themes of indivisibility and intersections came to define
the Handbook, it also became clear that in order to illuminate them
it would be necessary to call on the resources of many academic
disciplines rather than the narrow focus of just one or two fields.
is Handbook’s apters, therefore, come from solars trained in a
variety of solarly traditions. is brings to bear multi-disciplinary
perspectives on human rights and the MENA, helping to bring out
rights’ evolutions in different dimensions and their impacts on
diverse issues.
Aer a review of the conceptual themes and other intellectual
threads through whi this Handbook is organized, as noted I will
conclude this introduction by reference to SOGI-related rights. If we
take seriously both indivisibility and not just intersections but
intersectionality in the light of multi-disciplinary solarship, su
‘social’ rights are clearly not marginal, but rather vital to
envisioning longer lasting structural ange in cultural, economic,
political, as well as social life.
33
emes and threads in conceptualizing
contributions to human rights and the Middle
East and North Africa
Section II
A conceptual framework: political, economic, and cultural
rights in the Middle East and North Africa
I have already noted both this Handbook’s defining organizational
frameworks and recurring themes of indivisibility, intersections, and
multidisciplinarity. ese themes and other conceptual threads were
used to organize and hopefully give coherence to ea of the
Handbook’s nine sections. Section II, for example, is informed by the
notion of indivisibility that I have already started to outline in this
apter (and whi will extend into my closing discussion of social
rights). Most academic discussions of human rights in the MENA
have been focused on human rights’ political dimensions. is
Handbook departs from that by emphasizing human rights in all
their dimensions. is indivisibility of rights’ categories has long
been a key contention in human rights theory. As this literature
makes clear, rights are best conceptualized as mutually constitutive
rather than divisible into categories with some sort of hierary of
importance. e reasons behind their violation are oen
interconnected, as are the reasons behind the gains in
implementation. What is key is identifying the structures of power
whose survival depends on systematic rights’ violations. is can
both reveal the incentives behind their maintenance and why
34
allenging su regimes needs to recognize the interconnections
among a wide range of violations, rather than focus on issues in
isolation.
is introductory apter and Section II’s three apters
conceptually frame the Handbook by making clear how all
categories of rights are essential to thinking about human rights and
the MENA. Huss Banai’s “Political legitimacy, contingency, and
rights in the Middle East and North Africa” notes that the
vocabulary of the Arab uprisings— “cries for freedom, equality,
accountability, respect for rights and dignity, and justice” —is shared
with many other uprisings around the globe. What have to be
recognized, however, are the fundamentally distinct contexts in
whi su claims have been made in the Arab world. ese
contexts reveal that status quo regimes in the region may la
popular legitimacy, but nonetheless have enough political legitimacy
with key sectors (and external allies) to withstand popular calls for
democracy and rights. Zehra Arat’s “Economic rights in the Middle
East and North Africa” shows how issues of economic justice are as
important to peoples in the MENA as political justice. Arat stresses
the interdependency of rights and the necessity of more equitable
economic development in MENA countries if there are to be
solutions to its political crises. e example of corruption makes this
point: economic elites use closed political structures as a shield to
enable both their own enriment and the impoverishment of their
societies. Transparency and accountability to counter that is an
urgent maer in the political and economic spheres equally.
Mark LeVine’s “Cultural rights in the Middle East: art, revolution,
and repression” brings into the discussion MENA governments’
silencing of cultural expression and political spee and how this is
essential to sustaining systems of economic and political exclusion. It
follows that resistance must be as mu cultural as economic and
political. LeVine argues that uprisings across the MENA put this into
stunning relief: art was, in short, an essential constitutive element in
35
uprisings across the region, showing its revolutionary potential. e
counterrevolutions that have followed have taken as their essential
starting point, therefore, cultural repression and suppression of free
spee. ese cultural rights’ violations are problematic in isolation,
but also must be seen as fundamentally about sustaining broader
power structures based in economic hieraries, political elites, and
socially dominant groups.
Lastly, this apter concludes by extending into social rights with
an examination of how (admiedly controversial) SOGI-related
rights are key to conceptualizing identity in a more pluralistic
manner. is social pluralism is inseparable from pluralisms in other
domains, so should not be dismissed as secondary in aempts to
undermine authoritarian power structures. Collectively, Section I
and Section II’s framing of this Handbook with apters on social,
political, economic, and cultural rights makes clear how ea of
these categories are, in themselves, insufficient. It is only by taking
into account how they are mutually constituted—that is, indivisible—
that we can begin to make sense of human rights’ shiing place in
the MENA and their potential to undergird movements for structural
ange.
Section III
A political framework: intersecting human rights and
governance crises in the Middle East and North Africa
is Handbook’s apters represent a depth and breadth in academic
contributions on the intersections of human rights with broader
MENA politics that has not been conceivable until quite recently.
is depth and breadth is a signifier of several important intellectual
developments. Foremost among these developments is, simply, an
36
increasing recognition that these intersections are of vital
importance to regional and global politics. Even casual observers
have noted that Iran’s Green Movement (2009), the Arab uprisings
(2010–11), and Turkey’s Gezi Park protests (2013) exploded notions—
surprisingly common until quite recently—that human rights are
irrelevant to the MENA’s politics. To the contrary, this era of
uprisings across the region has shown that human rights (and their
violation) are at the fulcrum of ongoing governance and security
crises in the MENA.
Intellectual debates and academic explorations of how human
rights intersect with ongoing crises in the MENA are, thus, the
connecting theme of Section III’s six apters. ese apters
collectively give an overview of political dynamics regionally and in
some of its key countries. ese specific political histories make clear
how both general and specific human rights issues are essential to
understanding the reasons behind su ongoing crises. ese
intersections are not just about domestic human rights’ violations,
but extend to an external hegemon su as the United States
pursuing policies that have consistently reinforced a spiral of
despotic, unaccountable governance in the region.
e history of these sorts of intersections is given an overview in
Section III’s first apter by Martin Shaw, “Genocide in the
contemporary middle-east: a historical and comparative regional
perspective.” Shaw argues that well-known genocides—su as those
of Armenians in 1915, Kurds in 1988, and recent Islamic State
atrocities—should not obscure wider paerns of genocidal violence
in the Middle East. Shaw contends that the genocidal agenda of the
Islamic State is exceptional only in its explicit sectarianism. From the
Islamic State to the Syrian and Iraqi civil wars, the divide between
Sunni Gulf states and Shi`a Iran, and Israel’s expansion into the
West Bank, he sees similar sectarianisms defining the MENA’s
politics as part of a wider processes of homogenizing populations
and removing unwanted Others.
37
How these homogenizing processes are at war with pre-existing
pluralisms is developed in specific contemporary contexts in Section
III’s other apters. Nader Hashemi has perhaps the broadest take on
this in his “e ISIS crisis and the broken politics of the Arab world:
A framework for understanding radical Islamism.” Hashemi argues
that ISIS reflects fragmented social conditions that have emerged out
of a long crisis of bad governance in the Arab world. In short, as he
puts it, “human rights and democracy, or rather, their general
absence in the Arab world, can best explain the rise and expansion
of ISIS.” Human rights’ violations and political authoritarianism have
led to a destructive cycle of state failure, civil wars, and the rise of
extremist ideologies. Hashemi points out that during the Arab
uprisings violent Islamist groups were rendered impotent as the
possibility briefly emerged of peaceful political ange through
participatory pluralism. Rolling ba this opening led directly to an
increase in extremist violence—that is, when democratic openings
are closed radicalism thrives. Until this political-social context in the
Arab world is anged, the spiral of worsening state failure and
sectarian conflict will continue.
Turan Kayaoglu’s “e impact of the AKP on human rights in
Turkey: one step forward, two steps ba” reflects a disappointing
turn of history. Turkey’s AKP in its first years in power seemed to
represent an advance both for human rights and for the idea that a
moderate Islamist party and human rights principles are perfectly
compatible. Erdogan’s AKP oversaw a rollba of military power
and openings toward Kurds and a general social openness that
ranged from more freedom for the religiously pious to the
emergence of LGBT organizations in Turkey. e AKP experience
shows, however, that selective gains for human rights without
institutional meanisms and internalization of human rights by
party elites make su gains easily reversible. Recent years have seen
Erdogan increasingly assert one-man power. Despite democratic
mobilizations and the Gezi Park protests, the result has been bier
38
reversals for forces of democratic pluralism, with minorities of all
sorts—ethnic, ideological, and sexual—increasingly targeted by a
government that uses sectarianism to solidify its power.
Shadi Mokhtari’s and Neda Nazmi’s “e politics of human rights
in Iran Since the Green Movement” narrates a similarly depressing
tale. Iran’s 2009 Green Movement represented a high point for
popular aspirations for more open politics in Iran informed by
human rights, one that could only be repressed by brutal methods
and xenophobic nationalist justifications. Since that repression,
Mokhtari and Nazmi find that human rights allenges to the regime
have since been largely sidelined to those forced into exile, with
domestic human rights mobilizations greatly diminished. e result
in Turkey and Iran has been the resurgence of authoritarian
governance, with both states acting internally and externally in
support of the sort of sectarian politics that Shaw’s apter identifies.
Repressing domestic pluralism has gone hand in hand with
projections of singular nationalism into foreign policy, as seen in
Turkish support for Islamist allies in Syria and aas on Kurds both
inside and outside of Turkey, and Iranian support for Shi`a allies
outside its borders.
Kathleen Cavanaugh’s “Narrating law: Israel and the Occupied
Territories” takes a more theoretical turn, one that reflects
Israel/Palestine as a long-time example of the homogenizing
processes that Shaw discusses. Cavanaugh discusses how
international law has become a baleground over different
narratives regarding that process. One legal ‘truth’ regarding
Israel/Palestine is that this is an issue of the Palestinian human right
to self-determination as well as redress of a broad range of other
rights’ violations to whi Palestinians are subject. is narrative,
however, confronts a competing legal truth: that the actual legal
frame is one of Israel’s sovereign right to maintain its national
security, justifying violations of Palestinian rights. is ‘meta-
conflict,’ in Cavanaugh’s term, is not exclusive to Israel/Palestine,
39
but rather epitomizes bales fought in the legal discursive sphere
around the globe.
Cavanaugh’s argument flows directly into Stephen Zunes’ apter
“e United States and Israeli violations of international
humanitarian law,” whi describes how the United States has
shielded Israel from legal sanctions for violations of human rights
and humanitarian law, specifically in regard to treatment of civilians
and selements in the West Bank. Zunes’ point is larger than just a
critique of the U.S.–Israeli relationship or how the United States,
beyond Israel, prioritizes its military–security relationships in the
region over human security concerns. He argues more broadly that
impunity under a U.S. shield from international law harms the
possibility of reversing processes of ethnic conflict that are
reinforced by human rights’ violations justified by national security.
is is well demonstrated by continued spirals of violence between
Israelis and Palestinians.
ese specific case studies reinforce Shaw’s argument regarding
sectarianism: never absent from MENA politics, it is increasingly a
tool used by states and non-state actors, su as ISIS, to advance
their interests. e power of sectarian identity politics—and the
resources of actors who instrumentally deploy them—has clearly
overwhelmed countervailing democratic pluralist politics with
whi human rights are identified. Globally, wars between states
have been in steady decline since WWII. What has been on the rise
are so-called ‘new wars,’ in Mary Kaldor’s phrase: local conflicts
(oen with a transnational dimension) that are less about grand
causes or ideologies and more about using particular identities and
group solidarities as the basis for staking claims to local turf.1
Genocidal conflicts in the former Yugoslavia and Rwanda to vicious
civil strife from Sri Lanka to Sierra Leone have epitomized su new
wars. For a long time the MENA appeared to be exempt from this
style of warfare as its states were capable of maintaining—at a
bloody cost—the traditional Weberian model of the state
40
monopolizing legitimate authority and violence within a defined
territory. e sorts of crises in the news as I write this in 2016—from
Syria’s refugee crisis to Saudi intervention in Yemen, the
disintegration of state authority across the region, and the rise of the
Islamic State—indicate this is no longer the case. ese sectarian
conflicts have, at their heart, dysfunctions in governance across the
region. ese have spawned instability, civil war, trans-border
conflicts, and a seemingly endless spiral of aos.
Section IV
A transnational and international framework: human rights
beyond borders
e MENA is not an insular region. is Handbook’s apters make
clear that, contrary to how the region is oen portrayed, it is deeply
interconnected with other parts of the world in terms of intellectual
debate, interloing economic structures, transnational political and
social currents, and intersections with both Great Powers and
international organizations. Section IV shows some of the specific
transnational and international factors that impact human rights in
the MENA, with reference to transnational advocacy networks
(TANs), international organizations from the OIC to the United
Nations, and flows of both tenology and refugees. Collectively
they demonstrate how integrated putatively domestic human rights
bales are with larger global politics. More importantly, they
illustrate the multiple levels at whi human rights issues are being
contested and played out, and the conundrums and allenges this
poses.
Laura Landolt’s “Rival transnational advocacy networks and
Middle East politics at the U.N. Human Rights Council,” for example,
41
looks at rival human rights TANs from the MENA—including those
that are allied to or even appendages of states—and how their
contestations are played out at the U.N. Human Rights Council
(HRC). Many MENA states are rhetorically adopting the language of
human rights in ways that are superficially appealing but actually
quite problematic. While this rhetorical adoption may be supportive
of human rights in the abstract (cultural relativist arguments become
immaterial when even MENA states are loudly proclaiming human
rights’ relevance), it is part of a strategic aempt by states to remake
human rights into a tool to serve their own interests, rather than
leaving them to be a tool for the disenfranised. MENA civil society
movements continue to contest this, of course, but have increasingly
lile margin to do so as they are squeezed by states out of both
domestic and international spaces.
Ann Mayer’s “Redefining rights: OIC aempts to reshape values
in the U.N. Human Rights System” makes this point even more
strongly. Mayer discusses the Organization of Islamic Cooperation
(OIC) in the context of its bales at the United Nations over issues
su as free expression and defamation of religion. Mayer shows that
the OIC’s impulses in these bales are primarily political—to justify
internal repression of minorities and dissidents—rather than based in
either human rights or Islamic values. And, more generally, Mayer
makes clear that the real stakes in terms of any acquiescence to the
OIC in this regard is to accept their aempt, in Mayer’s term, to
‘redefine’ human rights in the interests of its leading states.
Mahmood Monshipouri takes on a different element of the
transnational and international context that helps shape human
rights’ realities in the MENA. In “Human rights, youth, and
tenology: Agents of ange?” Monshipouri details how the
increasing acceleration of transnational tenological connections
has allowed disenfranised groups the ability to find a voice. is
evidenced itself during the Arab uprisings with the prominent role
of youth, showing a potential avenue to harness the voices of the
42
disaffected in ways that brought to the fore demands for alternatives
to the status quo. is indicates the intersection of demographic
drivers with pushes for ange. It must be added, however, that this
also evidences itself with the rising appeal of radical Islamisms su
as ISIS, particularly in the wake of the counterrevolutions that
crushed the youthful voices that informed populist uprisings across
the region. Transnational networks have empowered alternatives to
the status quo but, when pluralist alternatives are repressed, it is not
surprising that xenophobic and nihilistic alternatives emerge.
e sour results of that double-edged sword are evidenced in
Kathleen Hamill’s “Rights, refugees, and the case of Syria: What do
human rights offer?” e Syrian refugee crisis is the embodiment of
this Handbook’s concerns: in short, that authoritarianism, mass
human rights’ violations, sectarian rule, and Great Power meddling
and interventions leave in their wake failed states. is spawns on
the ground aos and the transnational spread of both extremism
and refugees. e resulting ill effects are devastating at the state,
regional, and international level. Hamill details the futility as well as
the fragile hope of human rights in this context. Futility in that the
refugee legal regime’s poor definition has been exposed by its
inability to cope with everything from basic protections for refugees
to broader issues of integration, freedom of movement, and access to
services. A fragile hope in that, amid the bleak hopelessness, human
rights norms—while inadequate—have nonetheless been the only
tangible framework for offering a minimum of humane treatment
for Syrian refugees.
is embodies the continued conundrum of human rights norms
and the allenge that they face. In a deeply interconnected world,
the global effects of mass human rights’ violations make clear that,
leaving moral imperatives to the side, there is a self-interested
reason for their implementation. e conundrum is how to make
that self-interest impel sufficient practical action so that there is real
implementation. e allenge lies in Hamill’s argument about the
43
conceptual inadequacy of the refugee regime. Human rights are still
mainly focused on a domestic context—that is, the relation between
a state and those under its jurisdiction. Can the rights regime meet
the allenge to evolve su that it continues to make sense in an
increasingly transnationalized world in whi refugee flows make a
moery of both state legitimacy and notions of an international
community, and in whi a legal regime based in an assumption of
functioning sovereign states seems quaintly out of date? ere is no
doubt about the conceptual relevance of this transnational and
international context; its implementation, however, remains deeply
skety.
Section V
Gender and human rights in the Middle East and North
Africa
Part II includes sections on three particularly contentious issues
regarding human rights and the MENA: gender, religion, and
transitions out of authoritarianism. In terms of multidisciplinarity,
these three sections particularly exemplify how this Handbook draws
from a variety of disciplines in a way that is unprecedented in work
on human rights and the MENA. is multi-disciplinary approa
includes apters by solars from fields as varied as anthropology,
history, international relations, law, philosophy, political science,
religious studies, and sociology. It was only a short time ago that it
would have been difficult to imagine su a multi-disciplinary
approa to these topics. e growth of work across disciplines both
on human rights and on human rights’ intersections with the Middle
East and North Africa, however, has provided the opportunity to
move beyond the intellectual insularity of a discipline-based focus.
44
is multidisciplinarity is particularly relevant to Part II’s focus
on issues, making clear how they can be illuminated by debates in a
range of academic disciplines. Section V on gender and human
rights, for example, includes apters by anthropologists Pardis
Mahdavi and Homa Hoodfar, by socio-legal solar Anicée Van
Engeland, and by historian Mieline Ishay. ese apters are
complementary despite—or perhaps because of—the authors’
differing methodologies and disciplines. Gender is a contested
baleground regarding human rights. is is perhaps especially true
in the MENA, where women are oen constructed as an
undifferentiated symbol of cultural authenticity rather than active
participants in creating their own futures. e section’s two apters
by anthropologists give fine-grained portraits that show how,
beyond stereotypes, women engage in struggles for agency. Section
V’s other two apters take a broader scope to give insight on how
and why ange can happen to further both the rights of women
and, through that, societies as a whole.
Mahdavi’s “Colliding rights and wrongs: Intimate labor, health,
human rights, and the State in the Gulf” brings out the lived realities
of sexual and reproductive health in the context of intimate
ethnographic portraits that show both migrant agency and state
power. Hoodfar’s “Turning ba the clo: Population policy and
human rights in Iran” also has an anthropological perspective that
focuses on close readings of ongoing contestations over reproductive
rights in Iran, connecting more specifically to the ideological reasons
behind the Iran state’s shiing population policies. Van Engeland’s
“Women’s rights in the Middle East: Constitutions and
consequences,” by contrast, takes a broader comparative law
approa to legal frameworks across the Middle East that
systematically disempower women. Mieline Ishay’s “e Arab
uprisings and the future of human rights” has an even broader
sweep. Her apter uses a historical perspective to argue that, despite
the repression of the Arab uprisings, human rights have always
45
progressed out of su setbas to the degree they remain connected
to fundamental freedoms, most accurately gauged by progress in
women’s rights.
ese case studies—whether about micro-realities of migrants and
citizens resisting state power over their sexual and reproductive
agency or broader paerns of legal disenfranisement of women—
show how different disciplines can complement ea other in placing
theoretical debates about gender within lived realities. ey also
make clear both how it is that women are acting to claim agency and
why rights are so essential to making those claims.
Section VI
Religion and Human Rights in the Middle East and North
Africa
Debates about religion and human rights have oen been as intense
as they have been unproductive. is is particularly the case when it
comes to Islam in MENA contexts, where the power of Islamisms
has made religion a point of acute controversy. Section VI’s apters
on religion and human rights bring, again, a multi-disciplinary lens
to this controversy, with contributions from solars grounded in
Islamic Studies, international relations, anthropology, and political
science.
Collectively these apters show how, if sectarian politics are the
dominant issue confronting human rights in the MENA, then
debates about religion need to avoid reifying the notion that Islam
monopolizes the Muslim public sphere. When this sort of reification
occurs—as it oen does in “are Islam and human rights compatible?”
debates—it implicitly reinforces a sectarian assumption that Islam is
the primary variable defining life in the MENA. It must be
46
emphasized, instead, that this tired trope of Islam’s quasi-monopoly
on the public sphere neglects the MENA’s pluralistic normative
environment, one in whi a recent survey shows 52 percent of Arab
youth feel “religion plays too big a role in the Middle East.”2 is is
an environment that continues to be increasingly informed by,
among other factors, heterogeneities, hybrid identities,
intersectionalities, diasporas, local, regional and international
networks, satellite television, cyber spaces, and transnational
currents and normative networks. It is by taking into account these
contradictory currents, rather than denying their complexity, that
space is opened for recognizing how human rights may facilitate
pluralism as a complement rather than a contradiction to Islam.
Khaled Abou El Fadl’s “Shari`ah and human rights” masterfully
dispenses with theological objections to human rights from an
Islamic perspective and, indeed, suggests possibilities for an Islamic
doctrine for realizing a vision of human rights. Abou El Fadl notes
how the human rights movement has gained support in the Muslim
world, coming to be used as a medium for expressing dissent and
making demands on local governments. In particular, he notes that
“the revolutions of the so-called Arab Spring demonstrated the
widespread utilization of the language of rights (huquq)” but that,
nonetheless, there remains tension between traditional Islamic law
and human rights standards in domains su as women’s rights and
freedom of religion. Abou El Fadl argues that, to move beyond that
tension, Muslims must recognize on Islamic grounds that pursuing a
just society includes recognition of the rights due to human beings.
Bassam Tibi takes a very different approa to justifying human
rights in “Islam, the principle of subjectivity, and individual human
rights,” arguing this must be done on cross-cultural foundations as
an Islamic foundation only reifies a notion of Muslim
exceptionalism. Tibi advances a ‘principle of subjectivity’—that is, a
human-centered view of the world rather than a religion-centered
view—as essential to human rights’ expansion in the Muslim world
47
as elsewhere. is brilliantly points to the problem with a simplistic
acquiescence to the normative monopoly of Islam. Tibi points out
that anowledging the importance of religion (whi is, of course,
oen quite important) too oen elides into accepting as
incontestable constructs of Islam projected out by dominant state
elites, su as those in Saudi Arabia, Iran, or Turkey that have the
resources to spread their version of Islam as a form of so power.
is explains why engaging in doctrinal arguments regarding the
place of human rights in Islamic law may be both practically and
theoretically problematic.3 Practically problematic because it risks
reinforcing the centrality of those actors most invested in using
Islam instrumentally to further their interests. And theoretically
problematic because it is unclear that a sear for a theological
foundation for human rights is what is even needed if human rights
are to justify (and, more importantly, expand on) their current
resonance. A sear for a pre-existing foundation in religion may be
a misdirection that makes us miss the everyday cultural, economic,
political, and social reasons that human rights language already
increasingly constitutes many claims for justice around the globe
and in the MENA. It is most likely, in short, that it is those daily
realities that make human rights relevant or irrelevant, not theology.
e last two apters in Section VI put su theoretical arguments
into real world context. Marie Juul Petersen’s “e OIC, human
rights, and religion: Rejection, reconciliation, or
reconceptualization?” returns us to the OIC, now in terms of the
implications of its adopting human rights language. Petersen argues
that the OIC’s establishment in 2011 of its Independent Permanent
Human Rights Commission (IPHRC) could be seen as a shi from its
earlier Cairo Declaration on Human Rights. e Cairo Declaration
declared an Islamic alternative to the rights enshrined in
international human rights documents whereas, rhetorically at least,
the IPHRC represented an evolution toward recognizing
international legal obligations regarding human rights. In practice,
48
however, the OIC has become increasingly insistent on pushing for
‘traditional values’ to be integrated into human rights.
In a narrow sense, this testifies to Saudi Arabia’s use of the OIC as
an instrument to advance its policy preferences—just as Tibi’s
apter indicates states are wont to do. Equally important, it speaks
to a broader point: human rights should not be understood as fixed
concepts, rather they are subject to constant contestations,
allenges, and reconceptualizations. e IPHRC is an important
example in that regard in its aempts to re-make human rights into
a tool to advance exclusivist ideas of religious truth in the service of
Saudi state interests. is illustrates an essential argument from
Carol Vance and Alice Miller: human rights are a not a static entity
but rather, as they say, are both a tool of struggle and a site of
struggle.4 As a site of struggle, human rights are subject to
contesting forces continuing to struggle to define and redefine what
human rights will become. Bales around OIC claims to human
rights language illustrate this, as do other ongoing struggles among
states and non-state actors around how human rights are articulated
and in whose interest.
Barbara Rieffer-Flanagan’s “Rhetoric versus reality: American
foreign policy and religious freedom in the Middle East” connects
these arguments to U.S. foreign policy and broader geopolitical
context around religious freedom or the la thereof. Perceived U.S.
economic or national security interests have led to support for
regimes that violate rights to religious freedom and dissent, most
prominently, once again, Saudi Arabia. Rieffer-Flanagan argues that
this support directly contributes to broader paerns of rights’
violations in the region, violations that are an essential part of the
context that has led to state failure and violent extremism. Insofar as
this has led to domestic, regional, and global instability, it has been
counterproductive to U.S. interests.
Why the United States nonetheless persists in su
counterproductive policies speaks, in part, to the misconceptions
49
about religion to whi ea of the authors in this section refer.
ere is an assumption by U.S. policy-makers that elite-defined
Islam is all-determining in the MENA, rather than an infinitely
diverse entity despite its oen being instrumentally deployed by the
powerful in narrow ways. Contesting these instrumental
deployments by pointing to the MENA’s (religious and non-
religious) diversity is essential to allowing religion to be an
expression of the region’s living pluralism rather than a tool in
repressive efforts to create a mythically united community. Indeed, a
human right to religious freedom and free expression is needed if
religious discourse is to be constituted by pluralistic voices that will
keep it dynamic, rather than static and closed. And human rights
can also be a necessary safeguard ensuring that religion does not
exclude from the public sphere non-religious voices that are an
essential part of the MENA’s diverse mosaic.
Section VII
Transitions and accountability in the Middle East and North
Africa
Post-mortems on the failures of pluralist uprisings across the MENA
oen point to their inability to annel popular support in the streets
into institutional power. is may have been disappointing, but
another thread that runs through this Handbook is that the power of
state institutions (and non-state Islamist institutions) to wait out the
anaric energies released in these uprisings and then return to
power was not at all surprising. Nor has subsequent instability been
terribly surprising, given that one of political science’s few maxims
is that periods of democratic transitions are particularly vulnerable
to conflict and violence.5 Indeed, the problem runs deeper than the
50
return of authoritarian governing structures across the MENA. e
bequest of decades of despotism is ruptured societies with lile basis
for political community, making the failures of democratic hopes
and the emergence of bier sectarian conflict predictable. A true
transformation will require a process both to institutionalize
accountability and, more broadly, to re-create political communities
in traumatically divided state-societies.
is is a tall order. e basic question in transitional justice is how
a state-society can be rebuilt on stable foundations that allow it to
move past the structural and psyological legacy of the previous
order. Processes that have emerged as a means to this end include
lustration (i.e. purges of those associated with the old regime in
order to make possible the emergence of an untainted new regime),
tribunals (i.e. trials for those responsible for human rights’ violations
su that a new order can be based on having done justice for past
wrongs), and truth and reconciliation commissions (i.e. an aempt to
replace retribution with truth-telling as a path to healing bier
wounds).
Section VII concerns these processes in a MENA context, with
apters by authors grounded in political science, international
relations, law, history, and religious studies. e level of human
rights’ violations suffered across the MENA has oen been
downplayed. Beyond a generic recognition that torture and
repression are widespread, there is lile sense of the scope of the
structural violence that exists at the cultural, economic, political, and
social levels. at scope makes clear the difficult path to true
revolutions that reconstitute public spheres in more open, pluralistic
ways. Eric Wiebelhaus-Brahm’s “Core transitional justice debates in
the Middle East and beyond” gives an overview of debates in this
field, from philosophical notions of what is justice to more specific
debates about how best to rea both stability and justice. Examples
from the MENA cited by Wiebelhaus-Brahm show that, rather than
seriously engaging in su processes, its governments have favored
51
either retribution or manipulating transitional justice processes for
their own interests, oen to forestall genuine political transitions.
e apters that follow in Section VII give case studies
illustrating different dimensions of these failures—or at best very
limited successes—of transitional justice efforts in the MENA.
Chandra Sriram’s “Courts as a tool in transitions: Lessons from the
Special Tribunal for Lebanon” takes on the hybrid tribunal
established by Lebanon and the United Nations Security Council to
address the 2005 assassination of former Lebanese Prime Minister
Rafik Hariri and several related assassinations. e Tribunal,
however, does not address abuses during Lebanon’s earlier civil wars
or abuses under subsequent Syrian occupation, mu less the
spillover from Syria’s more recent civil war. Sriram finds that it is
unlikely to promote accountability or even truth telling, though
there is some hope that it may facilitate some helpful discussions
about the past.
Rim el-Gantri’s “Lessons on transitioning from authoritarianism:
Pitfalls and promise from Tunisia’s experience” notes that Tunisia is
oen considered the most successful post-Arab Spring state, partly
due to it having initiated transitional justice processes. El-Gantri
finds, however, that delays and la of transparency suggest the
Tunisian state’s reluctance to implement these processes. Civil
society activism hoping to ki-start this process keeps alive the
hope for a more substantive reoning with the past, but fears are
very real that the supposed Tunisian success story is a passing
mirage. Without a true transformation of its political system, Tunisia
risks sliding ba to what it was before Ben Ali’s departure: a less
bad version of the pathologies that ail the Arab political system.
Morocco is an even more difficult case. Its Equity and Reconciliation
Commission was the first transitional process in the region, but
Osire Glacier’s “e impact of impunity for violating cultural rights
in Morocco” indicates not just the Commission’s la of impact, but
also how continuing impunity is part of what has kept Morocco in
52
stasis. Glacier returns us to Mark LeVine’s focus on cultural rights
and how their repression is intimately linked to violations in other
dimensions. She argues that impunity for cultural rights’ violations,
including deliberately depriving Moroccans of education, is part of a
political strategy that impedes cultural, economic, political, and
social development.
Experiences around the globe have demonstrated that simply
having elections or referenda is not a long-term solution to deeply
seated cultural, economic, political, and social divisions. Experiences
around the globe have also shown, however, that processes of
transitional justice—when seriously engaged—have helped many
state-societies in their transition out of authoritarianism. No all-
encompassing model emerges from these experiences, but there is
one unifying principle: the need to recognize and grapple with
authoritarian pasts if more democratic, pluralistic futures are to
emerge. To speak specifically of the Arab uprisings, their anaric
spontaneity gave them their irrepressible power. Ironically, however,
the same anaric impulse that was a strength in gathering together
disparate trends in opposition to the status quo was an Ailles’ heel
when it came to moving beyond that status quo. ere was lile
thought put into envisioning how to deal with responsibility for past
wrongs or the shape of future governing structures.
ere is no single path out of authoritarianism nor is there a
simple transitional justice process that is uniformly appropriate.
What is clear, however, is that, in the aermath of uprisings across
the Middle East, especially in the Arab world, there has been a
general failure to come to terms with responsibility for past
authoritarianisms. If transitions to democracy are inherently
unstable, the result of su instability is the possibility of divided
societies basliding into either despotism or internecine conflicts.
We have seen both in the Arab world. is demonstrates what an
opportunity—fragile but real—was missed when domestic, regional,
53
and global powers conspired to return the Arab world to its ‘stable’
status quo.
Section VIII
Conclusions from a global viewpoint: theoretical
justifications and contestations around human rights
Part III’s two sections conclude the Handbook with theoretical
reflections grounded in global and grassroots perspectives. Section
VIII’s apters put theoretical approaes to human rights in the
MENA in a global context. is is a vexing endeavor. e difficulty
of human rights’ implementation in practice is paralleled by the
contentiousness of theoretical arguments about how to understand
human rights and their global spread. A flourishing human rights
literature allows for contributions from a number of different,
sometimes conflicting, perspectives to illuminate difficult debates
about what human rights are and what explains their resonance or
la of resonance globally and in their intersections with local
particularities, including in the MENA.
e solarly diversity in Section VIII is not just about
multidisciplinarity. A deliberate oice was also made to include
human rights solars who do not specialize in the MENA. It is true
that, as Huss Banai argues in his apter, the MENA has distinctive
contexts that must be taken into account if we are to make sense of
its human rights intersections. ese contextual factors are, indeed,
the focus of most Handbook apters. But this is not meant by Banai
as an argument for MENA exceptionalism in whi the region is
constructed as a case apart. Su exceptionalism is problematic
because it would risk reinforcing insularity in intellectual debate
rather than the exploration of connections across disciplinary and
54
geographic divides. Underlying this Handbook is a critique of su
insularity and a theoretical assumption that moving beyond
disciplinary and regional expertise can be revealing. e logic
behind broadening the Handbook’s academic palate with
contributions by human rights solars who are not necessarily
MENA experts is that ignoring su flourishing human rights
solarship would be intellectually impoverishing. is globally-
oriented solarship sheds valuable light on theoretical issues
regarding the intersection of human rights and locales around the
world, including in the MENA.
David Forsythe’s “International human rights at 70: Has the
Enlightenment project run aground?” gives, as its title indicates, a
broad reflection on how human rights have evolved historically,
with particular aention to recent developments in international
criminal justice, transitional justice, and the Responsibility to
Protect. Forsythe anowledges that, despite these remarkable
advances, the rights regime has a long path before it can make more
than incremental progress in the face of nationalisms and
illiberalisms, especially in the MENA. If Forsythe speaks of the
gradual diffusion of human rights across the globe in what he calls
contingent circumstances, Koen De Feyter’s “On the local relevance
of human rights” takes that focus on contingency and asks, more
specifically, in what contexts it is that peoples on the ground come to
appeal to human rights. De Feyter’s field resear in Africa and Asia
shows that groups around the world, especially in the global South,
appeal to human rights when their human dignity is under threat.
Contrary to usual top-down notions of the global diffusion of rights,
De Feyter makes the argument that the use of human rights at the
local level is the starting point for the normative development of
global human rights. In a phrase he borrows from Upendra Baxi,
people are the ‘primary authors’ of human rights. is is a
remarkable departure from an assumption in mu of the literature
that human rights flow from on high out of Enlightenment era
55
civilizational thought and traditions. is assumption is highly
problematic and, in a MENA context, makes lile sense of the ways
in whi human rights have come to resonate with lived realities.
Nicola Perugini and Neve Gordon’s “Israel/Palestine, human
rights and domination” takes a critical theory perspective on human
rights, insightfully arguing that the rights regime can reinforce state
power in a problematic manner. A new generation of contemporary
historians—Samuel Moyn, Jean ataert, and Steven Jensen, most
prominently—have put into question the common story that the
human rights regime flowed out of WWII. Perugini and Gordon,
however, accept the more traditional story, assuming the birth of the
human rights regime in the wake of the Holocaust. ey argue that,
when this new regime emerged, it did so in order to bestow on the
state primary responsibility for protecting human rights. is had
the effect, ironically, of reinforcing the state’s power. In
Israel/Palestine they see an unfortunate result of this, arguing that
this is a case in whi the human rights movement has functioned to
normalize colonial relations between the Israeli state and
dispossessed Palestinians.
is critique points to a troubling issue with the reformist human
rights project. Human rights’ synergistic relationship with the state
creates a sort of mutual dependency; counter-intuitively, this risks
empowering the very states that human rights are meant to limit.
David Forsythe’s broad historical overview makes clear, however,
that human rights are too narrowly pigeonholed if they are seen
only through that one problematizing prism. Indeed, while far from
a panacea, Forsythe gives a cogent overview of how human rights
have developed in ways that, at least at times, have effectively
limited state power to violate the rights of individuals and social
groups. One should also be skeptical, per De Feyter’s contribution, of
making too exclusive an identification of human rights with state
power. ere are simply too many cases where marginalized peoples
—from the anti-apartheid movement in South Africa to indigenous
56
peoples in South America—use their agency to engage with human
rights as a tool in their struggles against states. Human rights can be
instrumentally appropriated by states, as Perugini and Gordon point
out, but that does not exhaust their potential.
Alison Brysk’s “e quest for constructive criticism: Critical
approaes to human rights” is a sharp assessment of critical
theorists on human rights. Brysk argues that su theorists too oen
rely on monolithic, ahistorical notions of human rights that are, in
her words, “undisciplined by empirical reality.” Using the example of
activism around women’s rights, Brysk shows how to understand
human rights as a “contested, constructed, and evolving basis for
mobilization and empowerment with the capacity for counter-
hegemony in a liberal world order.” is is a key insight that moves
discussion of human rights beyond predetermined theoretical
templates and more toward being informed by empirical realities
that explain human rights “expansion and vernacularization.”
Human rights are, as noted before, both a potential tool of struggle
for the dispossessed and a site of struggle within whi various
actors—state and non-state alike—contest how human rights develop
and are re-imagined. To see human rights as a singular monolith is
to miss their problems, their possibilities, and their transformations.
Lisa Alfredson is, like De Feyter, a solar at the cuing edge of
work to re-orient understandings of human rights toward a localized
approa. eir apters’ emphases on boom-up approaes to
understanding human rights speak to how solarship on human
rights and the MENA is enried by emerging human rights
solarship. Alfredson’s “Making human rights ‘universals’ from the
ground up?” emphasizes, in particular, the need to recognize, rather
than deny, the agency of peoples in claiming human rights,
converting them to their own purposes and, in that process,
anging what human rights are. In describing this process of
human rights creation by globally diverse actors, Alfredson argues
that human rights’ adaptations in response to new claims shows that
57
the human rights status quo itself can be allenged and anged
rather than becoming stagnant in its own notion of ‘universality.’
Indeed, the emergence of new sets of human rights in recent years—
regarding sexual orientation and gender identity, for example—
demonstrates how human rights are, at their best, in a dynamic
process of becoming rather than static.
ese contributions in Section VIII indicate how human rights
relevance in diverse parts of the world flows from the degree to
whi they have (or have not) resonated at the grassroots. is is a
conscious allenge to the prevailing notion that human rights have
only become important to the region from a top-down global
diffusion, whi remains a far too common assumption in mu of
the literature on human rights and the MENA.
Section IX
Conclusions from a grassroots viewpoint: reflections on
dynamics around struggles for human rights in the Middle
East and North Africa
Section IX brings the Handbook to a close with apters by four
authors who have been inspirations to many who have worked on
human rights in the MENA, including myself. e riness of their
reflections is a testament to the interplay of long experience,
consistent integrity, and intellectual wisdom. It is a clié to talk of
bridging the gap between theory and practice. How beer, however,
to describe these apters? Decades grappling with theoretical and
practical issues revolving around human rights and grassroots
struggles in the MENA inform reflections that astutely recognize the
structural allenges, normative opportunities, and intellectual
58
surprises that make human rights and the MENA su a ri but
difficult topic.
Fateh Azzam’s “Reflections on three decades of human rights
work in the Arab Region” gives a magisterial overview of all this
Handbook encompasses. Azzam meditates on both the growth of the
human rights movement since the late 1970s in the MENA and its
consistent frustration by structures of power that are both local and
global. Dely describing the interplay of the moral, legal and
political in human rights discourse leads Azzam to decry “a cycle of
tilting at windmills by human rights proponents: now it’s the
culture, now it’s the law, now it’s the politics.” Azzam argues,
instead, for considering culture, law, and politics in an integrated
manner. is extends in a very practical manner theoretical
arguments about indivisibility that, as I have noted, inform from the
start this Handbook. Azzam’s practical concern is how su an
integrated approa can beer inform a societal movement that
meaningfully impacts local and global structures of power. Azzam
finds a compelling model for this in the Boyco, Divestment and
Sanctions (BDS) movement, saying its strategies are “human rights-
based and well known: to bring pressure on states, commercial
companies, universities and other institutions, to desist from
activities that support the continuing Israeli occupation and
violations of international law and Palestinian human rights.
Initiated by Palestinians, it has grown exponentially in the past 10
years and has garnered significant global support, scored many
successes and is beginning to have tangible effect.”
Amr Hamzawy foregrounds the experience of Egypt in his “Egypt
2011–15: How can a democratic revolution fail to improve human
rights conditions?” As with Azzam, Hamzawy is both an engaged
intellectual and a grizzled practitioner whose reflections flow out of
events in whi he has been a key player. His reflections begin by
recalling an intellectual environment in the Arab world at the start
of the twenty-first century that was informed by a sense of urgency
59
to confront long-standing authoritarianism and the “pseudo-rational
discourses” of apologists for ruling regimes and Islamism as its only
alternative. Hamzawy evokes the prevailing optimism that Arab
societies were bound to transition to democracy and the rule of law.
In making these arguments at the time, intellectual elites and human
rights defenders were reaing out to considerable segments of Arab
populations looking for alternatives to a stagnant and repressive
status quo. Hamzawy argues this was key to empowering a younger
generation of Arab activists to discover the street as a peaceful arena
to allenge autocracy, as eventually came to fruition in the Arab
uprisings. is optimistic badrop and the energy it engendered
make the counterrevolutionary tide that swamped these uprisings all
the more bier to Hamzawy. True to human rights principles,
Hamzawy has been Egypt’s most consistent critic of Mubarak, of
Muslim Brotherhood rule, of the 2013 coup that overthrew
Muhammad Morsi, and of al-Sisi’s rule since then. He describes ea
of these phases as sharing an idea of a savior from above that
justifies mass violations of human rights, sacrificing both the blood
and the hopes of Egyptians.
Bahey eldin Hassan’s “Reflections on human rights before and
aer the Arab Spring” betrays a similar discouragement about
current events and, yet, a continued engagement with how to create
ange. e head of the Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies,
Hassan argues that military elites in Arab countries are the variable
that explains the counterrevolutionary turn that repressed popular
hopes aer the Arab uprisings. As with Hamzawy, Hassan focuses
on Egypt. He uses Egypt’s recent history as a case study
demonstrating a regional trend of military power as the determining
factor in reversing calls for democratization and pluralism by Arab
publics. e apter concludes by discussing the role of human
rights activists who have moved from being popularly lionized as
revolutionary leaders to being hunted as the foremost enemies of the
state. Nonetheless, the underlying claim raised by these activists—
60
that violations of human rights result in interloing local, regional,
and global instability—has only grown more acute. Hassan concludes
that addressing these systemic violations, however unlikely, remains
the only hope to ending the impetuses that make the Arab world a
source of conflict, terrorism, and refugee flows.
Lynn Welman’s “Human rights, law and politics: a reflection on
human rights work in the Middle East and North Africa” is a
response to academic critiques of human rights. Welman indicates
how disconnected su abstract critiques can be from the reflective
commitments of grassroots human rights activists who “act on
human rights in the daily grind as well as in the bigger picture.”
ose in the front line of thought and action around human rights
organizations in the MENA—su as Azzam, Hamzawy, and Hassan
—are well aware of the problematics surrounding human rights law
and politics in the region. (Amusingly, Welman cites the mo
horror of a Tunisian activist at yet another academic tome invoking
the “endtimes” of human rights—but “we’ve hardly had a ance to
get started!” the activist exclaims.) Welman borrows from
Christine Bell to make her point: “e law’s possibilities are oen
sought out by those in struggle as one of the few resources
available.” It may be that simple. In events that range from ongoing
struggles by Palestinians and Kurds for the right to self-
determination to contemporary demands for cultural expression,
economic opportunity, political voice, and social pluralism, human
rights have been invoked when they are perceived as a useful tool—
legal and normative—of the marginalized to contest hegemonic
power. It is ironic, to say the least, when su agency is derided by
Western academics from their position of privilege.
e aptness of De Feyter’s and Alfredson’s apters come to mind
when Welman writes that
ere is a real gap in solarship on the impact of local human rights organizations in
the Middle East and North Africa on their partners in the international movement, as
well as the intensification of regional initiatives. Now, here is an extremely interesting
61
area of exploration for those who wish perhaps to uncover a different kind of human
rights story.
Indeed, whether in writing of human rights “endtimes” or their “rise
and fall” among Palestinians, what seems to be missing from too
mu solarship on human rights and the MENA is a substantive
engagement with local contexts and a willingness to take seriously
grassroot actors’ reflections and commitments. What is missing is an
openness, in Welman’s terms, to a story different than what is
presupposed.6 Could there be serious reasons that human rights
continue to undergird struggles in the region to find an alternative to
governance that serves the power of cultural, economic, political,
and social elites, despite the dismissiveness of some observers?
Welman pertinently concludes her apter with an observation
that underlies the premise of this Handbook as a whole: the
allenge of solarship on human rights and the MENA is to be
informed “with the possibility of … surprise, puing aside for that
moment theoretical templates that suggest human rights can be
constructed only in certain limited ways.”
62
Conclusion
e wave of uprisings from 2009–13—from Iran’s Green Revolution
to the Arab uprisings and Turkey’s Gezi Park protests—were both a
high and low point for human rights in the MENA. e Arab
uprisings took this high point the furthest, forcing long-entrened
rulers to step down in response to demands from massive street
mobilizations for greater cultural, economic, political, and social
freedoms. ese demands indicated anging normative
expectations in the region regarding democracy, human rights, and a
recognition of the Other’s place in a political community. As
Challand convincingly argues,
e Arab uprisings shared a common sociological novelty, that of expressing the new
massive adherence of the people, ash-sha`b, to the notion of citizenship and the
collective will to underwrite a new, more inclusive type of social contract. is amounts
to a call for the precedence of citizenship over the nation as opposed to previous
aempts of token nationalism devoid of full citizenship rights.7
e popular resonance of these demands should not be forgoen.
Even if the Arab uprisings’ hopes have been frustrated, their
underlying normative currents represent a continuing potential to
allenge the status quo. ey are, in Huss Banai’s phrase,8 a
“hidden Liberalism”—that is, a desire for liberal ends even if an
illiberal political context blos their accomplishment.
e Arab uprisings also represented a low point, however.
Counterrevolutionary forces quily overcame these uprisings’
animating calls for more representative, accountable politics. In the
midst of revolutionary aos, the warm appeal of exclusivist identity
politics and strongman stability returned as a powerful mobilizing
force, justifying a return of authoritarian politics in new modes. In
some sense this reversal was inevitable given the powerful
63
institutional and ideological forces arrayed against populist uprisings
in countries like Egypt, Libya, Syria, Tunisia, and Yemen. It is also
true, however, that calls during the Arab uprisings for cultural
vitality, economic justice, political democracy, and social pluralism
were too superficial to be translated from rhetoric into plans of
action. Even Tunisia’s limited success in continuing its democratic
transition is tenuous, as many old guard figures have returned to
power and slowed transitional justice processes (as el-Gantri
discusses in her apter) as well as broader processes of
democratization and empowerment. Why these failures? e
anaric forces behind the uprisings did not have the institutional
foundations to withstand deeply embedded structures of power.
Neither, however, did they ever have a fully articulated vision of
how to build their own institutions or how to allenge and move
beyond the nationalisms and other forms of identity-based politics
that have been and continue to be mobilized against democratic
politics.
e Arab uprisings were an example of both human rights’
unanticipated impacts and their continued shortcomings. In regard
to the former, human rights language has oen been powerfully
invoked against specific rights’ violations and authoritarianism in
general; its normative and political relevance to the Arab uprisings is
another example of how human rights can be a useful tool in
struggles by the disempowered. In regard to the laer, human rights
have not consistently done enough to inform a structural critique of
the status quo; this is true in the MENA and elsewhere. e inability
of the Arab uprisings to be translated into representative,
accountable institutions is one example of human rights not reaing
their potential.
at does not mean that human rights do not have the possibility
of being part of more thorough structural critiques. Su structural
critiques are fundamental to human rights and need to be made
more deeply and more explicitly. In order to point toward this
64
possibility, I will conclude this introduction with a few thoughts on
why SOGI-related rights, even if a particularly controversial part of
social rights, are central to this argument. If we are to take seriously
the themes of human rights’ indivisibility and intersections that run
through this Handbook, it is essential to see how the struggle for
SOGI-related rights is intimately linked to broader struggles for
cultural, economic, and political empowerment. Social resistances in
the domain of sexuality and gender are not just important in
isolation. Rather, they provide an example that goes to the heart of
how human rights can constructively inform articulations of
political futures that are more inclusive and pluralistic.
So, how is it that SOGI-related rights can point us toward taking
into account rights’ indivisibility and their intersections in ways
essential to rights’ long-term relevance? In regard to indivisibility,
the apters in Section II discuss categories of cultural, economic,
and political rights and their importance. Social rights are equally
important and, per rights’ indivisibility, interwoven with the
possibility of implementing all categories of rights. In specific regard
to social constructs of sexuality and gender, feminist and eer
studies solarship allows us to see the politically radical effects of
boundary-breaking phenomena, from feminism to alternative gender
expressions and sexual orientations. ese social resistances,
whether perceived as mildly or wildly outrageous, can be part of
subverting a mutually reinforcing status quo in the cultural,
economic, political, and social domains.9 is is demonstrated by
how the Arab uprisings were heralded by under-the-radar shis in
social and cultural aitudes—from sexual and gender expressions to
cultural rebellions evidenced in rap music, heavy metal, and various
other artistic subversions.10 is irrepressible social and cultural
energy constitutes a continued defiance against the status quo.
Keeping this in mind explains why it is not surprising that
counterrevolutions in the Arab world (as well as in Iran and
increasingly in Turkey) have taken as a necessary task brutally
65
repressing alternative social and cultural expressions. is is not out
of morality. It is out of an implicit sense of rights’ indivisibility: that
the emergence of su social alternatives feeds into undermining
patriary in all of its domains—cultural, economic, political and
social—and therefore must be crushed.
In regard to intersections, it is essential to push beyond what was
noted earlier in this apter—how human rights intersect with a
range of issues and crises—and toward a more truly intersectional
approa to identity. Challand argues, perhaps a bit too broadly, that
the era of uprisings in the MENA flowed out of “overt support for
intersectionality politics” whi he defines as “sensitivity toward the
limit of dominant identity binaries.”11 Authoritarian patriary, be it
monarist, Islamist, secular, and/or military, is based in essentialist
identity constructs; it imposes, among other things, singular notions
of appropriate ethnicity, sexuality, and gender roles. If this is, indeed,
the case, then to allenge su authoritarianism at its core it is
necessary to more directly allenge these narrow conceptions of
identity. SOGI-related rights have particular potential toward this
end insofar as they emphasize that sexual and gender identities must
be recognized as multiple, overlapping, and coexisting, rather than
singular. Movements for SOGI-related rights are powerful in
upseing patriaral binaries by being, in Momim Rahman’s words,
“focused on the uncertainties of identity.”12 Dennis Altman argues
that, in so doing, they “interrogate identity as a fixed point and a
central reference.”13 is is not just a sideshow. It is central to calling
into question structures of patriaral identity that are a key impetus
behind human rights’ violations and sectarian violence one sees
around the world, including in the MENA.
Indivisibility and intersectionality, thus, are not merely abstract
theorizing; they show how human rights can be beer
conceptualized in order to allenge the status quo. e Arab
uprisings showed the potential of human rights-inflected popular
movements but also exhibited their limits. In the wake of sobering
66
experiences in Egypt, Yemen, Syria, Libya, and Tunisia, it is clear
how difficult it is to translate the Arab uprisings’ impulses into
pluralistic political communities. While SOGI-related rights may
seem improbable to contemplate in currently dire circumstances, it is
also worth contemplating if it may only be in the context of multi-
dimensional ange that rights—even those that are supposedly less
controversial—can be sustainably implemented. In short, there is an
interdependency among rights that must be recognized if real
ange is to occur; ange that is not just incremental but truly
revolutionary. Surface improvements on structures that are
authoritarian to their core are insufficient. In theses contexts, human
rights must indeed aim to be revolutionary rather than merely
reformist.
e apters in this Handbook either implicitly or explicitly
remind us to keep in mind three realities as we think about how
human rights may contribute to su ange in the MENA. First is
that, even in a reactionary period, rebellious contestation will
continue. A key lesson of the Green Revolution, Arab uprisings, and
Gezi Park protests is how the disorganized, incoherent, yet inevitable
pluralism of peoples unpredictably explodes. No maer how stable
the surface, contestation is irrepressible and ange inevitable. e
current status quo in the MENA is particularly precarious given its
ruling elites la of popular legitimacy and how their bad
governance feeds into widening cycles of violence and instability.
Second, these rebellious contestations need to focus on the structural
causes of human rights’ violations if they are to sustain the ange
they seek. ese structures are institutional—governmental and non-
governmental—and they are grounded in patriaral forms of
authority. If human rights are to beer inform resistance to these
forms of authority, then they need to be “multilingual”14—that is,
owned at the local level by agents of ange who desire to be the
subject of politics rather than its object. ese agents adopt rights
not due to one universal heritage, but rather due to human rights’
67
utility as a tool that evolves according to context, speaking to varied
resistances against human rights violators.15
Lastly, in that light there needs to be less focus on if human rights
are inherently relevant or irrelevant, but rather on how human
rights can continue to evolve in order to tangibly become relevant to
the claims and demands made by peoples. at is where human
rights live or die. Just as historians tea us that human rights are
not a static entity, but rather have been continuously re-imagined
and repurposed,16 so too do rights need to continue to be open to
su re-imaginings. Human rights are oen discussed as if they are
in and of themselves a goal, and in and of themselves an ideological
worldview. is is not the case. To the contrary, human rights are
more about processes than ends—processes that can restrain state
dominance, empower peoples and social groups, and advance
individual and group agency. What is accomplished with that
empowerment and agency is not determined by human rights; it is
determined by those who claim, use, and transform human rights.
In the short-and even medium-term there is every reason to be
pessimistic about human rights in the MENA. In the long-term,
however, making space for forms of political community that are
fluid and open enough to represent cultural, economic, political, and
social pluralism is the only alternative to authoritarianisms that are
inherently unable to come to terms with diversity within the Middle
East and North Africa. Despite the structural, institutional, and
ideological obstacles to creating alternative forms of political
community, human rights remain relevant to that struggle in the
many domains addressed in this Handbook and beyond.
68
Notes
1 Mary Kaldor, New and Old Wars: Organized Violence in a Global Era (Palo Alto:
Stanford University Press, 2012).
2 Asda`a Burson-Marsteller, Arab Youth Survey, available at:
www.arabyouthsurvey.com/en/home. Accessed on May 2, 2016.
3 Anthony Tirado Chase, “Liberal Islam and ‘Islam and human rights’: A sceptic’s view,”
Religion and Human Rights vol. 1, no. 2 (2006), 1–19.
4 Alice M. Miller and Carol S. Vance, “Sexuality, human rights, and health,” Health and
Human Rights vol. 7, no. 2 (2004), 5–15.
5 Linz and Steppan, Problems of Democratic Transition and Consolidation: Southern
Europe, South America, and Post-Communist Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins
University Press, 1998).
6 Stephen Hopgood, The Endtimes of Human Rights (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University
Press, 2013).
Lori Allen, The Rise and Fall of Human Rights. Cynicism and Politics in Occupied
Palestine (Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press, 2013).
7 Benoît Challand, “Citizenship against the grain: locating the spirit of the Arab uprisings
in times of counterrevolution,” Constellations vol. 20, no. 2 (2013), 170.
8 Huss Banai, Hidden Liberalism in Modern Iran (forthcoming).
9 Desiree Lewis, “South African feminism, Lady Gaga, and the flight toward ‘eer
Utopia’” in Los Angeles Review of Books (Sept. 2015). Available at:
hps://lareviewoooks.org/essay/south-african-feminism-lady-gaga-and-the-flight-
toward-queer-utopia. Accessed on May 2, 2016.
10 Asef Bayat, Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East (Palo Alto,
CA: Stanford University Press, 2010).
11 Challand, p. 175.
69
12 Momim Rahman, “eer as intersectionality: eorizing gay Muslim identities,”
Sociology vol. 44 no. 5 (2010), 951.
13 Dennis Altman, “Global gaze/global gays,” GLQ: A Journal of Lesbian and Gay Studies
vol. 3, no. 4 (1997), 430.
14 Lynee Chua, Mobilizing Gay Singapore: Rights and Resistance in an Authoritarian
State (Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press, 2014).
15 Anthony Tirado Chase, “Human rights contestations: sexual orientation and gender
identity,” International Journal of Human Rights vol. 21 (2016), 1–21.
16 Samuel Moyn, “On the Genealogy of Morals” in The Nation [online]. Available at:
www.thenation.com/article/genealogy-morals#. Accessed on May 2, 2016.
70
Selected Bibliography
Aerly, Brooke. Universal Human Rights in a World of Difference.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008.
Afshari, Reza. “On historiography of human rights discourse” in
Human Rights Quarterly vol. 29 (2007), 1–67.
Bayat, Asef. Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle
East. Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010.
Beitz, Charles. The Idea of Human Rights. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2009.
Benhabib, Seyla. Dignity in Adversity: Human Rights in Troubled
Times. Cambridge: Polity Press, 2011.
Burke, Roland. Decolonization and the Evolution of International
Human Rights. Philadelphia, PA: Pennsylvania Studies in Human
Rights, 2010.
Chase, Anthony Tirado. “Human rights contestations: sexual
orientation and gender identity” in International Journal of
Human Rights vol. 21 (2016), 1–21.
Chua, Lynee. Mobilizing Gay Singapore: Rights and Resistance in
an Authoritarian State. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University
Press, 2014.
De Feyter, Parmentier, Timmerman and Ulri eds. The Local
Relevance of Human Rights. Cambridge: Cambridge University
Press, 2011.
Goodhart, Miael. Human Rights: Politics and Practice. New York:
Oxford University Press, 2009.
Grabham, Cooper, Krishnadas and Herman, eds. Intersectionality
and Beyond: Law, Power and the Politics of Location. London:
Routledge, 2009.
71
Jensen, Steven. The Making of International Human Rights, 1945–
1993. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015.
Merry, Salley Engle and Goodale, Mark, eds. The Practice of Human
Rights: Tracking Law Between the Global and the Local.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007.
Moyn, Samuel. The Last Utopia: Human Rights in History.
Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2010.
ataert, Jean. Advocating Dignity: Human Rights Mobilizations in
Global Politics. Philadelphia, PA: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 2010.
Rahman, Momim. “eer as intersectionality: theorizing gay
Muslim identities,” Sociology vol. 44 (2010), 944–61.
Rajagopal, Balakrishnan. International Law from Below:
Development, Social Movements, and Third World Resistance.
New York: Cambridge University Press, 2003.
Risse, omas, Sikkink, Kathryn, and Ropp, Stephen eds. The
Persistent Power of Human Rights. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2013.
72
Section II
A conceptual framework: political,
economic, and cultural rights in the
Middle East and North Africa
73
2
Political Legitimacy, Contingency,
and Rights in the Middle East and
North Africa
Hussein Banai
74
Introduction
Very few governments in the contemporary Middle East enjoy
popular legitimacy. e coercive powers of most states in the region,
in the main, are exercised by fiat rather than sanctioned by their
citizenry. According to Freedom House surveys of civil and political
liberties around the world, of the twenty-one countries in the Middle
East and North Africa (MENA) region, only Israel and Tunisia are
free (encompassing only five percent of the region’s 410 million
populace—but even counting Israel and Tunisia as free is contentious
to many experts).1 ese findings are confirmed by issue-specific
reports su as Reporters Without Borders’ World Press Freedom
Index,2 Amnesty International Annual Reports on myriad abuses of
human rights, the United Nations Human Development Index3, and
a host of other (non/inter)governmental reports. e consistency of
these reports over the course of the last two decades, combined with
myriad failed efforts at reform and liberalization in the region, help
to explain why the so-called ‘third wave’ of democratization
sweeping across central and eastern Europe, Latin America, and
parts of central Asia and the Caucuses has largely eluded the MENA
region.
At the time of the successive popular uprisings in Iran, Tunisia,
Egypt, Libya, Syria, Bahrain, Jordan, Iraq, and Yemen (to name the
most prominent between 2009 and 2011), there was mu hope that a
new trajectory had at long last come to replace the puzzle of
‘persistent’ and ‘robust’ authoritarianism in the Middle East.4 But
the Green Movement in Iran and the so-called ‘Arab Spring,’ while
helping to expose multiple and intersecting crises of legitimacy
across the region, also underlined the difficulties inherent in
confronting powerful interests and established practices that have
75
long shaped social relations under longstanding regimes of
repression.5 In ea case, the failure to either replace or gain
significant concessions from the status quo revealed important
insights about the differences between popular and political
legitimacy, and the implications for human rights and democratic
reforms. For my purposes, I define (and later justify) political
legitimacy as a mere modus vivendi between ruling parties, their
support networks, and the general population. Popular legitimacy, by
contrast, is legitimacy gained through the free and fair participation
of citizens in the public sphere, and especially in maers of
governance. Very few recent works on the determinants of
legitimacy do not either confuse or conflate popular and political
antecedents in their analyses. is has been to the detriment of
constructive thinking about the prospects for democratic reform and
fulfillment of human rights in the region.
is apter is a reflection on the relationship between political
legitimacy and rights in light of the conjoined domestic and foreign-
induced convulsions that have set the Middle East upon a most
uncertain trajectory. It may reasonably be asked just what is to be
gained from su a survey under ever-mutating conditions. I offer
two related reasons. First, the socio-economic and political factors
that for so long conditioned the terms of political legitimacy have
either been anged or rearranged. e sound and fury of the
current moment notwithstanding, the uprisings across the region
have in fact broken some significant taboos and slain more than a
few sacred idols. It is, therefore, important to pause and take
measure of the salience of the new political landscape aer the
collapse of the previous order. Second, this new political seing has
revealed the underlying pluralism of values, grievances, interests,
and strategies that serve as reference points for struggles over and
debates about basic rights and freedoms. Put simply, there is a great
deal of variation in the terms of political discourse, as well as the
substance of political claims on offer, from Tunis to Tehran.
76
Political legitimacy aer civil uprisings
Max Weber’s definition of the state as a political entity whose
“administrative staff successfully upholds a claim on the monopoly of
the legitimate use of violence in the enforcement of its order within
a given territory”6 is an instructive starting point for thinking about
the determinants of political legitimacy. In Weber’s influential
formulation, legitimacy stems from the unmatched capacity of the
state to exercise its coercive powers. In other words, to the extent
that no other authority can allenge the state’s coercive powers,
then su a ‘monopoly’ forms the basis of political legitimacy.
Weber’s definition is instructive here because it links the normative
concept of legitimacy directly to the material capacity of the state to
bring about desired outcomes. Legitimacy, therefore, is gained once
the agents of state—that is, ‘the administrative staff’ carrying out
executive functions—can demonstrate their ability to thwart
allenges to their authority, maintain order within their territory,
and to secure the elementary security needs of subject populations.
To be sure, this capacity does not by itself render the state’s exercise
of power just or unjust; rather, it signifies a key (for Weber, perhaps
the) aribute of the sovereign state.
It is important to be mindful of this fine distinction from the
outset because far too oen what merely testifies to the political
legitimacy of the state is confused or conflated with what makes the
ruling regime or a given system of rule legitimate. is is especially
important in the case of Middle Eastern countries where, as the
catalogue of measurements of popular legitimacy cited in the
introduction make clear, explanations for the persistence of
authoritarian regimes can easily neglect overlapping areas of
political legitimacy between the state and the regimes in power.
77
Popular legitimacy corresponds more closely to a representative
system of government, whereby ruling elites are not only responsive
to the claims of their citizens but also reflect the preferences of
majorities while protecting the rights of minorities. Although
democratic institutions and procedures are the most optimal means
of aieving popular legitimacy, alternative pathways to popular
legitimacy su as consultative assemblies and benevolent
monaries—more prevalent among Persian Gulf countries and in
Morocco—also exist.
In any event, muddled understandings of political legitimacy as
regards Middle Eastern states and societies are primarily due to the
contingent nature of its determinants, and not because the concept
itself is inherently enigmatic. More importantly, the prevalence of
authoritarianism in the region does not necessarily entail that
considerations of political legitimacy are any less variable or in flux
than under other systems of rule. As Lisa Anderson has recently
suggested,
Rather than assume the stability and legitimacy of the state, political scientists of the
Middle East must treat it as a variable: the state is stronger, more widely accepted, and
beer institutionalized in some places than others or, conversely, it is more hotly
contested, routinely ignored, or otherwise weaker in some places than others.7
e spectrum of authoritarian state capacities, in turn, affects the
aracter and form of the relationships or coalitions upon whi the
ruling elites come to rely.8 Correspondingly, political repression must
be viewed more as a means of ensuring the material and ideological
interests of authoritarian coalitions than a mere blunt instrument of
power. e longevity of authoritarian regimes, then, is determined to
a significant degree by their leaders’ ability to construct and
successfully maintain, as one influential study has argued, a
‘winning coalition’ among the ‘selectorate,’ a cohort of individuals,
institutions, and powerful entities baing the leadership of an
authoritarian state.9 Indeed, the variable fate of uprisings and
78
popular movements across the region since 2009 further confirm this
reality.
Iran
In Iran, the cradown on the leaders and notable supporters of the
Green Movement,10 however harsh and draconian in the short-term,
did not result in a state-of-emergency-like power grab by ultra-
conservative factions seemingly enjoying the support of the Supreme
Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Instead, the regime recalibrated by
re-drawing its ‘red lines’ around new, more acceptable public
criticisms of officials and policies. With the terms of political
discourse once again redefined, the opposition responded by electing
President Hassan Rouhani in 2013, a moderate pragmatist with
subliminal appeal to embaled reformists, as well as to conservatives
wary of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s costly hostile posture and actions.
Rouhani’s election was made possible due in large part to the
diffused, but inextricably linked, networks of commercial, religious,
and political interests that make up the support base of the regime.
Highly invested in the stability of the Islamic Republic, these
constituencies were more interested in reaing an equilibrium point
—aer the tumult brought on by Ahmadinejad’s polarizing agenda—
than rethinking the structure of power. As su, the political
legitimacy of the regime was secured once again.
Tunisia and Egypt
Considerations of political legitimacy in the case of Arab countries
have been demonstrably different, however. Prior to the start of the
uprisings in late 2010, nearly all of the Arab republican states—
primarily, Egypt, Syria, and Tunisia, but also Algeria and Libya—
79
were run by comparatively more rigid, top-down authoritarian
regimes. e regimes, in turn, were supported by highly selective (in
terms of their loyalty and personal relations with the security
establishment) networks of cronyism, whi benefited from
repressive policies that limited public accounting of state practices.
“Increasingly,” one especially perceptive study notes, “fragile
coalitions governed through divide-and-rule strategies based on a
combination of blanket subsidies, repression, and fear mongering
about political Islam.”11 As a result, far fewer constituencies were
included in the authoritarian coalitions across these states, rendering
the ruling elites more vulnerable to sudden shos and sustained
allenges to their authority.12
e so-called ‘Jasmine Revolution’ in Tunisia was largely a
response to the culture of corruption cultivated and nurtured by
President Zine El Abidine Ben Ali and his network of cronies.
Although the Ben Ali regime had been among the most repressive as
regards civil and political rights, Tunisia was nonetheless among the
most advanced Arab countries in socio-economic terms. Yet, the
imperatives of political survival on the part of Ben Ali, and of
favoritism and access on the part of the cronies benefiting from his
rule, turned Tunisia into one of the most unequal, economically
corrupt, and politically repressive countries in the region. In
retrospect, it is lile wonder that a mere spark could set the entire
façade ablaze, whi quite literally arrived in the form of the public
self-immolation of a Tunisian street vendor, Mohammad Bouazizi.
Indeed, Bouazizi’s plight—routinely harassed and humiliated by
corrupt, rent-seeking local police and civil administrators—
symbolized, beer than any independent audit of the country ever
did, the corrupt basis of Ben Ali’s tenuous political legitimacy.13
Suddenly, the convenient alibis of impending Islamist terror and
takeover no longer seemed to have mu credence in the minds of
millions of unemployed youth and under-employed and
marginalized working professionals.14 To be sure, many other non-
80
instrumental factors related to the popular legitimacy of Ben Ali’s
rule also played an important role in bringing down his regime.15
But from the standpoint of political legitimacy, the tapering of the
authoritarian coalition due to rampant cronyism was the decisive
factor in the swi transfer of power to the opposition.
e case of Egypt is more complicated in that there are many
areas of overlap between the determinants of political and popular
legitimacy that not only help explain the swi fall of one of the
purportedly most stable political regimes in the region, but also the
country’s gradual reversion ba to status-quo ante. Central to the
political legitimacy of any Egyptian government since the dawn of
Arab nationalism has of course been the outsized role of the military,
the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF). e sheer scale of
the popular protests against the government of Hosni Mubarak
greatly surprised the network of cronies around him, and especially
exposed their complacency. A key constituency in that network
included the top ranks of the SCAF itself, for whom striking a
balance between anowledgement of the corruption of the political
class and the preservation of its massive commercial and political
interests was absolutely essential. As Owen observed, foremost in
the minds of the military leadership
was the desire not only to protect the military’s own lucrative economic interests—its
factories, commercial farms, its link with the wider business community—from public
scrutiny, but also what might be called its own ‘guilty’ secret that for all the huge (and
hidden) defense budget, its ability to put on even the smallest military exercise, let alone
confront a major enemy on the balefield, had been seriously impaired.16
Given the depth of SCAF’s entrenment in the political economy of
Egypt, it is lile wonder, in hindsight, about its active role in
fomenting a systematic counterrevolution that resulted in the
ousting and vengeful prosecution of the democratically-elected
government of Mohammad Morsi (and the Muslim Brotherhood)
and the return of the ancien régime.17
81
It is important to note that restoring the political legitimacy of the
old order in Egypt has by no means resolved the quite ronic crisis
of popular legitimacy that is bound to destabilize the country in the
foreseeable future. is is because popular support for the Muslim
Brotherhood and other Islamist parties had less to do with
Egyptians’ preference for Islamic governance than actually
mitigating mutually inclusive problems of corruption and mass
inequality. On this point, Tarek Masoud’s comprehensive study of
the basis of support for the Muslim Brotherhood’s Freedom and
Justice Party confirms that “citizens voted for that party not because
of its stance on the application of Islamic law, but because they
believed it would pursue economic policies on behalf of the poor.”18
e measure of popular legitimacy leading up to the elections,
therefore, was more economic and material in nature than religious.
is also helps explain how, when Morsi and the Brotherhood
undertook undemocratic steps to thwart the constitution in favor of
ideological commitments, the basis of their popular legitimacy
quily dwindled. Laing coercive powers, and excluded from the
networks of patronage apoplectic about its redistributive and
political agendas, the Brotherhood were easily purged by the SCAF
from the political scene.
Perhaps the most notable implication of the swi rise and fall of
the Muslim Brotherhood was what it revealed: the very thin
purase of Islam on either political or popular legitimacy. As
Masoud aptly notes,
If religious purity were the thing voters thought they were purasing with their
suffrages, we would expect those voters to insist on keeping Islamists in office,
regardless of the slowing of the economy, the decay of public services, or the steady
erosion of public order. If religion were truly possessed of the totemic power that
observers of the Muslim world have long assigned to it, then it would take a great deal
more than a few months of fuel shortages, blaouts, or inflation to cause the faithful to
turn their bas on it.19
82
Indeed, the same can be observed in Tunisia, whi also saw the rise
to power of the Islamist Ennahda Movement aer Ben Ali’s fall.
ere, the slogan ‘Islam Is the Solution’ soon had to be jeisoned in
favor of more earthly labels that would not needlessly alienate the
majority’s preference for practical solutions to root out corruption
and fix the country’s ailing economy. Consequently, Ennahda
entered into power-sharing agreements with the center-le Congress
for the Republic and the social-democratic Eakatol political parties
to aain the requisite legitimacy needed to shepherd the transition
process to constitutional democracy in Tunisia.20 At any rate, what
these disparate experiences suggest thus far is that even Islamists
have to grapple with the imperatives of political legitimacy, their
purported claims to ideological, cultural, and even metaphysical
authenticity notwithstanding.
Syria and Libya
e aermath of the Arab uprisings also has been instructive in the
two countries that have suffered—and whi at the time of this
writing continue to suffer—most significantly from near-total state
collapse and intractable civil conflict: Syria and Libya. Syria’s slide
into civil war was a direct consequence of Bashar al-Assad’s vicious
military response (including the alleged use of emical weapons) to
what by all accounts had been a widespread and pluralistic (in
sectarian and political terms) uprising to his rule. From the outset,
however, the Syrian uprising was qualitatively different from those
elsewhere, given the sectarian and highly stratified composition of
the Assad family’s system of rule that included the army, myriad
security and intelligence services, and the Ba`ath Party. e
hereditary rule of the Assads, in turn, is tied closely to the status and
security of the Shi`a minority Alawi sect whose members
predominate in the legislature and the cabinet, rubberstamp
83
institutions both. is peculiar arrangement has been termed a
‘presidential monary’ by Raymond Hinnebus,21 but the basis of
its legitimacy harkens ba more to its self-generating network of
support than mere loyalty to kinship or dynastic rule. In fact, similar
to other authoritarian republics in the region, a critical component of
the regime’s support are its networks of businessmen and capital
with access to resources outside of Syria. As Bassam Haddad has
explained,
Beginning in the 1970s, the regime has forged networks of capital that bind elite
business actors to state officials as the laer, and their offspring, venture into the
commercial realm. ese ties have paid dividends in times of crisis, both in the past and
in the present.22
e outbreak of the uprisings—whi soon turned into an armed
resistance—exposed the geographical limitations of Assad’s rule. e
Alawite population is mostly concentrated in the northwest region
of Syria adjacent to the Mediterranean Sea, and although the seat of
the Assad regime’s power is based in Damascus and its surrounding
areas, the rest of the country is predominantly populated by Sunnis,
Christians, Druze, and the Kurds. is demographic spread was not
an insignificant determinant of the regime’s political legitimacy,
since the ability to execute and project coercive power in these
regions was how Hafez al-Assad first cemented his grip on power.23
e metamorphosis of the uprising from civil to ongoing armed
resistance—with considerable military support by Western and
Persian Gulf countries—tipped the balance of power and effectively
eliminated the Assad regime’s monopoly of violence in mu of the
country. Armed resistance by itself, however, did not manage to
allenge the regime in its sectarian and military strongholds. e
resulting civil war has produced the most acute humanitarian crisis
of the twenty-first century (while estimates of the fatalities vary
between 250,000 and 500,000, the exodus and forced migration of
nearly 4.5 million people is indisputable).24
84
Although the composition and method of Muammar Qaddafi’s
rule also could be said to have resembled that of a ‘presidential
monary,’ the stratification of power based on tribal affiliation and
kinship render Libya qualitatively different from Syria. e base of
Qaddafi’s power was strictly composed of networks of patronage
bound by ties of kinship. As su, Libyan government was devoid of
any shared institutions or civil spaces that Libyans with different
tribal lineage could participate in. According to Anderson,
In the absence of any public-sector bureaucracy, including a reliable police force, kin
networks provided [sic] safety and security as well as access to goods and services. It
was along su networks that Libyan society fractured when the regime’s capacity to
divide and rule began to unravel at the beginning of the protests.25
e blithe manner in whi Qaddafi and his sons publicly vowed to
exact revenge on the opposition—Saif al-Islam Qaddafi warned of
‘rivers of blood’ in a televised spee26—was indeed representative of
the rigid basis of political legitimacy in Libya at the time of the
uprisings. All the same, the crucial factor in the fall of the regime
was no doubt the NATO-led military intervention that swily and
decisively ended Qaddafi’s four-decade-long monopoly of violence
in Libya.
As a result of the failure of the transitional process in Libya to
produce a united path toward shared governance, the country has
plunged into civil war between rival groups and zones of authority.
As in the case of Syria, the inability of any single political actor to
establish uncontested claims on the means of coercion is iefly the
reason behind the persistence of anary in Libya. On this account,
seing aside the legitimacy of the military intervention by NATO
countries, there is no doubt that mu of the violence and instability
in the country is due to the ill-conceived manner in whi the
distribution of weaponry and intelligence assets in the lead up to the
toppling of Qaddafi was managed. is has led some observers to
declare post-intervention Libya a ‘stateless country,’ whi is neither
85
possessive of the formal institutions of a state (in the Weberian
sense) nor even torn between disparate but stable zones of authority
(as has been the case in conventional civil wars su as in the
Balkans, Iraq, or in Syria).27 In contrast to ea of the
aforementioned cases, therefore, political legitimacy in Libya is
simply non-existent at the time of this writing.
e Arab monaries
It would perhaps seem counter-intuitive that among the different
types of autocratic regimes in the Arab world hereditary monaries
should fare beer than republican states. Aer all, su regimes
seem to rely more on entrened networks of patronage, la of
robust institutions, rampant corruption, and ineffectual ruling
personalities. Indeed, none of these regimes was at first immune
from popular protests that filled city squares and streets from
Manama to Rabat. But two factors, in retrospect, seem to have
played to the advantage of monaries: resource wealth (primarily
oil) and regional rivalry. It is a well-established observation in
comparative studies of Middle Eastern politics that resource-ri
countries prove more resilient in the face of popular pressures for
ange than those with lower or even medium levels of resource
rents.28 Simply put, oil rents endow resource-ri countries with the
capability to alleviate political pressures through economic
incentives. As Camme, Diwan, Riards, and Waterbury have
argued, “In the oil-ri countries with low populations, high oil rents
keep the autocratic bargain—or the exange of material benefits for
political quiescence—functioning.29
Evidence of su dynamics was on full display soon aer the
outbreak of popular protests in the Persian Gulf countries. In Saudi
Arabia, King Abdullah bin Abdulaziz responded to the uprisings by
announcing a $110 billion economic paage to be spent on social
86
welfare, new housing, and new jobs; the Kingdom later amended
this initiative with minor but symbolic reforms. In Kuwait, more
concrete political steps were taken, including dissolving the
rubberstamp parliament altogether, replacing the premier, and
holding new elections. But here too the offering of economic
incentives and promises of greater inclusion of hitherto marginalized
constituencies were ultimately instrumental in halting what
threatened to be a regional contagion. Although the scale and shape
of protests in Qatar, United Arab Emirates, and Oman were
comparatively too small to be even moderately threatening to the
respective ruling families there, in ea case the government cited its
diversified economy and relative wealth to explain its stability.30 As
the determinant of political legitimacy, therefore, oil wealth did
indeed have an appreciable effect on the ability of the ruling families
to respond quily and effectively to the outbreak of popular
protests.
All the same, a fairly robust counter-revolutionary response by
the riest Persian Gulf monaries—but primarily led by Saudi
Arabia—was also prompted by a renewed sense of rivalry with Iran.
In this sense, the pretext of an ascendant Iran, as a Shi`a power bent
on regional hegemony, was exploited to prop up otherwise weak and
unpopular autocratic regimes in Bahrain and Yemen.31 In Bahrain,
where the majority Shi`a population is ruled by the Sunni al-Khalifa
family, although persistent public protests were brutally crushed by
the security forces, the government made a point of inviting Saudi
troops to demonstrate its resolve in the face of possible assistance
from Tehran. e result was the fortification of the al-Khalifa
dynasty, and the restoration, for the time being, of the regime’s
political legitimacy.
A far more violent and uncertain case is the ongoing civil war in
Yemen that initially began as a mass uprising against the rule of
former president, Ali Abdullah Saleh. ere, the Iran-baed Houthi
opposition is engaged in a bloody armed conflict against the forces
87
loyal to the government of Abd Rabbuh Mansur Hadi, who came to
the presidency as a result of a transitional process brokered by the
Gulf Cooperation Council. Although the ebb and flow of the conflict
is consistent with the dynamics of a sectarian civil war, there is no
denying that the direct military involvement of a Saudi-led coalition
has effectively divided the country into three separate zones of
authority among the Houthis (in the West), pro-Hadi forces (in the
East and the center), and the Al Qaeda affiliate, Ansar al-Shari`ah (in
the center). In sum, a counter-revolutionary measure born out of the
anxieties of popular revolt has, as of this writing, devolved into a
full-blown civil war with no end in sight. In this regard, Yemen
demonstrates the ineluctable constraints placed on regime stability
and political legitimacy by outside forces struggling to aieve a
favorable balance of power. But just as importantly, it demonstrates
the lengths to whi discomfited regimes endowed with considerable
financial and military resources will go to counteract any external
developments that might conceivably affect their legitimacy at
home.
As the preceding brief illustrates, the variable outcomes of the
popular uprisings across the Middle East over the past few years
have largely been determined by the capacities of ruling elites to
maintain their respective authoritarian coalitions. While in some
states (e.g. Iran and Egypt) the informal networks of patronage and
clientelism have simply proven too ‘deep’ to be susceptible to
periodic popular shos, in other cases (e.g. Tunisia) the appearance
of total control seems to have deluded even the rulers about the
extent of their marginality. Still, in states with persisting divisions
along sectarian and kinship ties (i.e. Syria, Libya, and Yemen), the
outbreak of civil unrest was merely a symptom of yet more
trenant and deeply historical grievances that continue to maim,
kill, displace, and impoverish. To be sure, the riddle of political
legitimacy in ea of these societies is determined by any
combination of the following factors: demography, ecology, political
88
economy, human rights, external support and/or interference,
regional dynamics, transnational Islamist politics, sectarian identity,
kinship, and transitional politics. My aim in the preceding, however,
has been to demonstrate in whi cases, and broadly for what
reasons, political legitimacy—defined as the monopoly over the ways
and means of violence—has either been maintained, lost,
reestablished, or hangs in the balance since the outbreak of popular
protests in December 2010. e remainder of this apter examines
the implications of these variable outcomes for thinking about the
future of democracy and human rights in the region.
89
Contingency and rights
Given the rather parsimonious Weberian definition of political
legitimacy employed above, it would seem that struggles for basic
rights and freedoms are somehow of second-order relevance in
discussions of political ange. Su a conclusion would be mistaken
for two reasons. First, as I mentioned from the outset, there is an
important distinction between what enables a regime to stay in
power and what justifies its claims to rule. In the previous section, I
endeavored to describe the contours of the former in order to simply
show how and where authoritarian rulers maintained, lost, or
regained power in spite of mass discontent about the legitimacy of
their claims to rule. What I did not provide an explanation for or
explore was why su allenges to the political legitimacy of
resilient autocrats sprung up seemingly out of nowhere in the first
place. e implication here is that the normative content of the
uprisings—that is, the calls for basic rights, political agency, and
recognition of human dignity—still very mu remains a pivotal part
of the drive behind ange across the Arab and Muslim worlds.
Second, popular struggles for human rights and democratic
representation cannot singularly be treated as either symptoms or
causes of crises of legitimacy for the simple reason that they are by
nature immanent in social life, perpetually fought for, always in flux.
Even in the most stable and established democracies su struggles
are ever present and ongoing. erefore, due to the contingent
nature of social life (i.e. the absence of certainty in life events),
rights-based claims and abuses form the very threads out of whi
the fabric of social and political ange is weaved together.
In countries where the monopoly of violence does not rest on
democratic claims to governance—su as, in all of the states
90
surveyed above—the struggle for rights is necessitated, on the one
hand, by the contingency of everyday life, and on the other, by the
formal as well as informal denials of agency by the state. To
complicate maers further, in moments of crisis or transition the
boundaries between these domains are blurred by a combination of
perceived threats to physical or economic security, identity conflicts,
monistic pursuits of ideals, and sheer greed, on whi a bountiful
literature in social science already exists.32 A good illustration of this
point as regards the Middle East are the results of the Arab
Barometer (AB) surveys that have been fielded in twelve countries
across the Arab world. To date, three different waves of AB surveys
have been conducted, with the last round completed soon aer the
outbreak of uprisings in the region. Reading through the results
before and aer the protests, it is striking to observe the shi in
emphasis by respondents away from political grievances to more
socio-economic and security concerns. Egypt is an instructive case in
point. A key question in the survey asks of respondents to rank six
features of democracy in order of significance to them.33 In Egypt, in
a survey conducted soon aer the outbreak of uprisings that toppled
the Mubarak regime from power, a sizable majority of Egyptians (76
percent) ranked socio-economic features above political ones, whi
only 23 percent ranked first. Moreover, in the same survey a
majority of Egyptians (66 percent) also object to any violations of
human rights in the name of security. ese results lead the
surveyors to conclude, “that the definition of democracy in the eyes
of Egyptians does not correspond with many traditional definitions.
Instead, Egyptians understand democracy to be primarily associated
with socio-economic affairs, or redistribution.”34 Similar conclusions
are reaed about other countries in the region as well, albeit with
variable emphasis on security in addition to socio-economic factors.
But as I have demonstrated thus far, the contingency and the
variable nature of both popular and political legitimacy recommend
a more reflective interpretation. Crises of legitimacy, precisely
91
because they allenge or even supplant longstanding monopolies of
power over the ways and means of violence, naturally engender
feelings of fear, suspicion, anger, resentment, and insecurity. Under
su conditions, it is more than understandable that the sacrifice,
once again, of democratic aspirations for the sake of political
stability and legitimacy should lead to expressions of despondency
and resentment reflected by the third wave of AB surveys. In light of
the heightened sense of general instability and insecurity, worsening
economic conditions, and rise in sectarian conflicts, it is perhaps not
surprising that a sizable majority of respondents in Egypt, Lebanon,
Jordan, Kuwait, and even in Tunisia believe that their fellow citizens
might not be ready for democracy; or that any su system worthy
of its underlying values must first and foremost deliver on economic
equality and prosperity.35
e important question to ask at this juncture, however, is not
what preexisting templates for democracy citizens subscribe to
(insightful though su inquiries might be in illuminating common
anxieties and preoccupations of a public). Answers to su questions
would nearly always be at the mercy of contingent factors bearing
on the commitment level of respondents. Rather, a more salient
approa would account for the denial or recognition of specific
rights-based claims amid conditions of political turmoil and
instability. For instance, whi freedoms and rights have been
enhanced or further diminished in Egypt aer the fall of Mubarak
and before the restoration of the status quo ante by SCAF? What
lessons may we glean from the way political transitions across the
Arab world failed to deliver on popular demands for more
representation and freedoms? What institutional es and balances
are needed to ensure underlying democratic values su as equal
respect for persons, autonomy, freedom of spee, and minority
rights protections in a moderately successful case like Tunisia? Are
civil and political rights merely nominal without a fairly robust set
of welfare and economic protections? Is the absence of the laer the
92
reason for the qui resort to kinship ties and sectarian identity in
Libya, Syria, and Yemen? What is the role of inter-governmental,
non-governmental, and aid agencies in facilitating the neutral
political space in whi political legitimacy is established on
democratic foundations?
ese are just some broad and basic sample questions; but the
point I am making here with this set is that questions about the
status of struggles for rights and democratic processes must tou on
those specific conditions that were/are part of the historical record.
We call the aggregate of these context-specific factors the fruits of
‘contingency;’ but the ever-dynamic nature of these factors need not
detain us from empirical investigations of, and also engagement
with, ongoing normative struggles to render public institutions and
governments more representative of the irreducible plurality of
human lives conditioning social relations. Furthermore, we must
recognize that this effort entails a two-level—national and global—
understanding of rights-based claims that goes beyond the concerns
and purview of nation-states. Miael Ignatieff summarizes the
allenge well in his Tanner Lectures on Human Values:
Most human beings depend for their rights on the states they live in; those who do not
have states of their own aspire to one and in some cases are fighting for one. Yet even
though the nation state remains the ief source of rights protection, international
human rights movements and covenants have gained significant influence over national
rights regimes. Although the ‘default seings’ of the international order continue to
protect state sovereignty, in practice the exercise of state sovereignty is conditional, to
some degree, on observance of proper human rights behavior. When states fail in this
regard, they render themselves subject to criticism, sanction, and, as a final resort,
intervention.36
Indeed, there have been no shortages of criticisms, sanctions, and
interventions in the name of human rights and democracy
promotion in the Middle East in the last decade alone. Some of these
actions (mostly through conditional aid and symbolic criticisms)
have induced authoritarian states to become more responsive to the
needs and rights of their citizens, while others (i.e. interventions in
93
Iraq and Libya, for instance) have been abject failures in terms of
both securing rights and spreading democracy. e reasons for these
failures have been well explored and reflected on by solars, but
critical assessments of great power militarism are not a substitute for
ethical and pragmatic prescriptions that also take seriously the
imperatives of political legitimacy.37
Although the trajectory of anges underway—let alone the
prospect for democracy—in the Middle East are far from certain at
this point, there is lile doubt what the animating grievance behind
the uprisings has been: the basic democratic idea that citizens’
fundamental rights and dignity are to be respected by governments.
e brave and dignified protests that engulfed the region in the
aermath of Mohammed Bouazizi’s self-immolation in Tunisia
demonstrated this point perfectly. As Anthony Chase has aptly
argued, the multiple and intersecting waves of boom-up protests
prove that “human rights have come to inform, in part and in
interesting ways, how significant issues in some parts of the
transnational Muslim world are contemplated, debated, and acted
upon.”38 In contemplating the prospects for democratic ange in
these societies, therefore, we must concentrate our analyses more on
the formal and informal obstacles in the path of rights-seeking
citizens than on their putative expectations from democratic
institutions (should they ever arrive). is is not to say that we must
credulously accept the whims and desires of any individual or group
—or even of majorities—in the name of freedom of expression and
democratic agency. For without critical dialogue and reflective
understanding the core democratic principle of equal respect for
persons is nothing but a hollow trope. Rather, by revealing the
barriers to representative institutions, and hence to meaningful
citizenship, reflective solarship would accurately portray civil
protests for what they truly embody: in Chase’s words, “the desire of
the people to be subjects of politics rather than objects of politics.”39
94
Conclusion
e long-term implications of the so-called ‘Arab Spring’ for the
peoples, cultures, and institutions of the Middle East will be studied
by solars for many years to come. But the significance of the
present moment—in all its sound and fury—ought to be of special
interest to democratic theorists. For despite the seemingly ubiquitous
propensity to compare the current uprisings to those preceding the
fall of communism in Eastern and Central Europe in 1989, or to the
wave of progressive revolutions engulfing mu of Europe and Latin
America in 1848,40 the local and global contexts both enabling and
working against the revolts in the Middle East are mu different
from pro-democracy upheavals of previous eras. Simply put, the
circumstances surrounding the laer involve a different cohort of
individuals and groups, ideas, beliefs, geopolitical factors, economic
and historical paerns, and social imperatives. is is not to say that
the grievances registered are not familiar ones: cries for freedom,
equality, accountability, respect for rights and dignity, and justice
would be instantly recognizable to anyone as universal calls for
democracy. But shared vocabularies oen belie fundamentally
different obstacles in the way of boom-up revolts in different
seings and time-periods.
Since the birth of modern democracy, people of different
bagrounds have assembled and mared together to insist on their
right to have rights and basic freedoms; but once free, the struggle to
define the scope and substance of rights and freedoms begins anew.
e nature and aracter of su second-order struggles, in turn, are
conditioned by the contextual seing from whi disagreements
spring. Indeed, this dynamic is currently evident in Tunisia, as
liberal, secular, religious, and a host of other parties vie for power
95
and present to the public their respective plans for revising national
constitutions, managing contentious politics, jumpstarting the
economy, and dealing with political violence. In ea case, as in
others explored above, it is the capacity of the new political order to
be responsive to the needs and input of a diversity of viewpoints that
will put to test its claim to legitimacy.
96
Notes
1 Freedom House scores are based on a seven-point scale, with 1 signifying the most
freedom and 7 the least freedom. Lebanon, Kuwait, and Morocco are classified as
“partly free,” but their scores (4.5, 5, and 4.5, respectively) remain high. All data
pertaining to the MENA region can be accessed at
hp://freedomhouse.org/regions/middle-east-and-north-africa. Last accessed September
20, 2015.
2 World Press Freedom Index ranks 180 countries from best to worst. Only Kuwait (90),
Lebanon (98), and Israel (101) rank in the top 100, but just barely. Some of the most
pivotal and highly populated countries su as Egypt (158), Saudi Arabia (164), Iran
(173), and Syria (177) rank among the worst in the world. e 2015 World Press Index
can be accessed at: hps://rsf.org/en/ranking_table.
3 Although some Persian Gulf countries su as Bahrain, Kuwait, Qatar, and the United
Arab Emirates rank high in HDI metrics, as the U.N. Arab Human Development reports
have consistently demonstrated, the raw ingredients for democratic participation and
representation—inequalities in gender, income, education, and access to health, and
persistent poverty—remain elusive compared to other developing regions. For key Arab
HDI indicators, see: www.arab-hdr.org/data/indicators/. For general U.N. HDI reports,
see: hp://hdr.undp.org/en/content/human-development-index-hdi.
4 Eva Bellin, “e robustness of authoritarianism in the Middle East: Exceptionalism in
comparative perspective,” Comparative Politics, vol. 36, no. 2 (Jan. 2004), 139–57, and
“Reconsidering the robustness of authoritarianism in the Middle East: Lessons from the
Arab Spring, Comparative Politics, vol. 44, no. 2 (Jan. 2012), 127–49. For a critical
treatment of Bellin’s approa, see Raymond Hinnebus, “Authoritarian persistence,
democratization theory and Middle East: An overview and critique,” Democratization,
vol. 13, no. 3 (2006), 373–95.
5 For critical reflections on the uprisings, see Fawaz A. Gerges, ed., The New Middle East:
Protest and Revolution in the Arab World (New York: Cambridge University Press,
97
2014), and Jason Brownlee, Tarek Masoud, and Andrew Reynolds, The Arab Spring:
Pathways of Repression and Reform (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015).
6 Max Weber, The Theory of Social and Economic Organization (New York: e Free Press,
1966), 154. Emphasis in the original.
7 Lisa Anderson, “Authoritarian legacies and regime ange,” in Fawaz A. Gerges, ed., The
New Middle East: Protest and Revolution in the Arab World (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2014), p. 46. For an earlier iteration of the same point see Anderson’s
“e State in the Middle East and North Africa,” Comparative Politics, October 1987.
8 at authoritarian states come in different forms, and behave different across time and
space is not a new revelation in social science. For the most influential study in political
science, see Juan J. Linz, Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes (Boulder, CO: Lynne
Rienner Publishers, 2000).
9 Bruce Bueno de Mesquita, et al, The Logic of Political Survival (Cambridge, MA: MIT
Press, 2003).
10 For an excellent summary of the variety of claims, counter-claims, and compromises
leading to and emerging out of the 2009 presidential election, see Nader Hashemi and
Danny Postel, eds The People Reloaded: The Green Movement and the Struggle for Iran’s
Future (Brooklyn, NY: Melville House, 2010).
11 Melani Camme, Ishac Diwan, Alan Riards, and John Waterbury, A Political Economy
of the Middle East, 4th Edition (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2015), p. 5.
12 As Roger Owen has recently explained, “Arab republican presidents in states with lile
or no oil were always closely associated with only a small number of individuals or
groups of men and women. ese included, on occasion, members of their own close or
extended families who used their privileged access to obtain favorable business terms in
exange for various political or economic services.” Roger Owen, The Rise and Fall of
Arab Presidents for Life (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), p. 49.
13 Fadhel Kaboub, “e making of the Tunisian revolution,” Middle East Development
Journal, vol. 5, no. 1 (2014), pp: 1–21.
14 It is important to note, as Habib Ayeb has shown, that the concentration of wealth and
political power also had a distinct political geography: “Since independence and even
98
before it, the south, center and west of the country have suffered from the economic and
social consequences of the unbalanced and unequal developmental policies that were
particularly concentrated on the capital Tunis, the Sahel, some big coastal cities, su as
Bizerte and Sfax, and tourist zones, including Djerba and Hammamet-Nabel … this is a
large part of the country that observes its resources being transferred to the other part
without any real compensation or benefits in exange.” Habib Ayeb, “Social and
political geography of the Tunisian Revolution: e Alfa Grass Revolution,” Review of
African Political Economy, vol. 38, no. 129 (2011), p. 471.
15 Hayat Alvi makes the argument that human rights principles and the pursuit of social
justice played definitive roles in bringing about the revolution. “e human rights and
development impetuses for Tunisia’s Jasmine Revolution,” Contemporary Review of the
Middle East, vol. 1, no. 1 (2014), pp. 25–51.
16 Roger Owen, “Egypt and Tunisia: From the revolutionary overthrow of dictatorships to
the struggle to establish a new constitutional order,” in Fawaz A. Gerges, ed., The New
Middle East: Protest and Revolution in the Arab World (New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2014), p. 264.
17 For a clear-eyed explanation of the SCAF’s counter-revolutionary rationale and actions,
see Adam Shatz, “Whose Egypt?” London Review of Books, vol. 34, no. 1 (January 5,
2012), 15–17; for more on the SCAF’s place in the network of patronage, see Issandr El
Amrani, “Sightings of the Deep State,” MERIP Online, January 1, 2012. Last accessed
September 20, 2015: www.merip.org/mero/mero010112.
18 Tarek Masoud, Counting Islam: Religion, Class, and Elections in Egypt (New York:
Cambridge University Press, 2014), p. 6.
19 Ibid, p. 210.
20 It must be said—and this a point that I shall expand on further in the next section—that
in the case of Tunisia the role of civil society groups, professional guilds, and human
rights organizations was just as mu, if not more, consequential in ensuring the
democratic trajectory of the transitional process. Indeed, so significant was the role of
these disparate groups that in 2015 the Norwegian Nobel commiee recognized the so-
called Tunisian National Dialogue artet—comprised of unionists, employers, lawyers,
https://www.merip.org/mero/mero010112
99
and human rights activists—with its Peace Prize. e full citation for the prize can be
found here: www.nobelprize.org/nobel_prizes/peace/laureates/2015/press.html.
21 Raymond A. Hinnebus, Authoritarian Power and State Formation in Ba`athist Syria:
Army, Party and Peasant (Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 1990), pp. 145–9.
22 Bassam Haddad, “e Syrian regime’s business babone,” MERIP, vol. 42, no. 262
(Spring 2012). Last accessed October 10, 2015: www.merip.org/mer/mer262/syrian-
regimes-business-babone.
23 Owen, The Rise and Fall of Arab Presidents for Life, pp. 80–8.
24 According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees, “e exodus from
Syria is the highest recorded since 1992 when the number of refugees from Afghanistan
hit a staggering 4.6 million. In reality, the figure is even higher as it does not include
more than 270,000 asylum applications by Syrians in Europe, and thousands of others
not reseled in regional neighbors.” Last accessed October 12, 2015:
www.unrefugees.org/2015/07/total-number-of-syrian-refugees-exceeds-four-million-for-
first-time/.
25 Lisa Anderson, “Demystifying the Arab Spring: Parsing the differences between Tunisia,
Egypt, and Libya,” Foreign Affairs, vol. 90, no. 3 (2011): 5.
26 “Gaddafi’s son warns of ‘rivers of blood’ in Libya,” Al Arabiya News, February 21, 2011.
Last accessed October 12, 2015: www.alarabiya.net/articles/2011/02/21/138515.html.
27 Hugh Roberts, “Libya and the relessness of the West,” London Review of Books,
September 22, 2012. Last accessed October 20, 2015:
www.lrb.co.uk/blog/2012/09/22/hugh-roberts/libya-and-the-relessness-of-the-west/.
28 See Miael L. Ross, “Does oil hinder democracy?” World Politics, vol. 53, no. 3 (April
2001): pp. 325–61. For a critical analysis of the arguments for and against, see Steven
Haber and Victor Menaldo, “Do natural resources fuel authoritarianism? A reappraisal
of the resource curse,” American Political Science Review, vol. 105, no. 1 (February 2011),
1–26.
29 A Political Economy of the Middle East, p. 7.
30 King Mohammed VI of Morocco went even further by holding a popular referendum on
the constitution that constrained his powers (albeit more symbolically than in practice)
100
and obliged him to more meaningful reforms still. But civil protests were very limited in
size and scope to start, and did not persist mu longer aer the forward momentum of
other large-scale protests in Egypt, Jordan, and Syria had been halted.
31 Sean L. Yom and Gregory Gaus III, “Resilient royals: how arab monaries hold on,”
Journal of Democracy, vol. 23, no. 4 (October 2012), 74–88; and Mehran Kamrava, “e
Arab Spring and the Saudi-led counterrevolution,” Orbis, vol. 56, no. 1 (2012), 96–104.
32 Two especially influential studies are: Mats Berdal and David M. Malone, eds, Greed &
Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers,
2000); and Paul Collier and Hoeffler Anke, “Greed and grievance in civil war,” Oxford
Economic Papers vol. 56, no. 4 (2004), 563–95.
33 As the surveyors explain, “ree of these features are political (elections, freedom of
expression, and equal political rights) and three are socio-economic (reduction of
inequality, provision of basic necessities su as food, clothing, and shelter, and the
elimination of financial and administrative corruption).”
34 Gamal Abdel Gawad Soltan, Ahmed Nagui Qamha, and Subhi ‘Asila, “Public opinion
report on the most important political and social issues in Egypt,” The Arab Barometer
Project, Al-Ahram Center for Political and Strategic Studies, Cairo, Egypt (June 2011).
Last accessed November 13, 2015:
www.arabbarometer.org/sites/default/files/Egypt%20ABII%20Country%20Report%20Eng
lish .
35 Khalid Shikaki, “Arab Barometer 3: has Arab support for democracy declined due to the
Arab Spring?” presentation at the United States Institute for Peace, Washington, DC,
October 31, 2014. Last accessed November 13, 2015:
www.arabbarometer.org/sites/default/files/Shikaki%20USIP%20presentation .
36 Miael Ignatieff, Human Rights as Politics and Idolatry (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2003), p. 297.
37 I have offered my own analytical framework in “Democratic solidarity: rethinking
democracy promotion in the new Middle East,” Security Dialogue, vol. 44, no. 5–6
(October–December, 2013), 411–29. Also see, Amaney A. Jamal, Of Empires and
Citizens: Pro-American Democracy or No Democracy At All (Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2012).
101
38 Anthony Tirado Chase, Human Rights, Revolution, and Reform in the Muslim World
(Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2012), p. 6.
39 Ibid.
40 See the symposium on “Comparing the Arab revolutions,” Journal of Democracy, vol. 22,
no. 4 (October 2011); Miael Zantovvsky, “1989 and 2011: compare and contrast,” World
Affairs, July/August (2011); and Marc Morjé Howard, “Similarities and difference
between Eastern Europe in 1980 and the Middle East in 2011,” The Monkey Cage, May
30, 2011. Last accessed September 20, 2015:
hp://themonkeycage.org/2011/05/30/similarities-and-differences-between-eastern-
europe-in-1989-and-the-middle-east-in-2011/.
102
Selected Bibliography
Bellin, Eva. “Reconsidering the robustness of authoritarianism in the
Middle East: Lessons from the Arab Spring,” Comparative
Politics, vol. 44, no. 2 (January 2012), 127–49.
Brownlee, Jason, Tarek Masoud, and Andrew Reynolds. The Arab
Spring: Pathways of Repression and Reform. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2015.
Chase, Anthony T. Human Rights, Revolution, and Reform in the
Muslim World. Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2012.
Fawaz, A. Gerges ed. The New Middle East: Protest and Revolution in
the Arab World. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2014.
Jamal, Amaney A. Of Empires and Citizens: Pro-American
Democracy or No Democracy At All. Princeton, NJ: Princeton
University Press, 2012.
Linz, Juan J. Totalitarian and Authoritarian Regimes. Boulder, CO:
Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000.
United Nations Development Programme. “Arab Human
Development Index,” Human Development Reports. New York,
2015.
103
3
Economic Rights in the Middle East
and North Africa
Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat
104
Introduction1
Human rights issues in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA)
are usually discussed in relation to authoritarian governance and
state repression of political rights. However, as demonstrated by the
Arab Spring, social and economic rights and issues of economic
justice are equally important to the population living in the MENA
region.2 Public opinion surveys show people’s emphasis on economic
rights and related issues:
A 2005 poll conducted by Zogby International found that expanding employment
opportunities, improving health care and educational systems, and ending corruption
were the most important priorities of citizens across the region. Democracy and civic
and political rights, though also cited, were ranked lower than socioeconomic concerns
… Similarly, the 2010 Arab Youth Survey found that the greatest perceived allenge
and concern of Arab youth was the cost of living, followed by unemployment and then
human rights.3
is apter focuses on economic rights, whi can be defined
differently. In the international human rights law they are blended
with social rights and mentioned under the heading of economic and
social rights, including: the freedom and right to form a family; the
rights to food, housing, shelter, clothing, education; the right to
health and health care; the rights to work, livable wages, rest, join
unions, collective bargaining, strike; and the right to social security,
among others. While the interrelatedness of economic and social
issues makes a neat classification of rights as ‘economic’ and ‘social’
difficult in practice, the philosophical framework employed in the
international forums on human rights has also led the members of
the United Nations and supporters of human rights to repeatedly
stress the interdependency and indivisibility of rights, along with
their universality.4 In this apter, I focus on the rights to
105
employment, livable wage/income, and food, as the central economic
rights and address the rights to education and health care, water,
housing and social security as most closely related to those rights.5
Despite this selection, however, I subscribe to the sool of thought
that endorses the interdependency and indivisibility of not only
social and economic rights but all rights, including the civil and
political rights. In fact, in my discussion of the above-mentioned
rights in the MENA context, I intend to show that the violations of
rights in one domain are linked to the violations in others, and
military conflicts and warfare, whi involve violence and are
discriminatory by default, aggravate them all.
e data and analyses presented here should be received with two
caveats. First, although they display some distinct aracteristics as a
region, the MENA countries’ aitude toward and record of
economic rights are not mu different from the rest of the world.
Second, within the region there are significant differences in
government policies and human rights experiences of people. In
addition to the discrepancies between the oil-ri countries and
poorer/aid-dependent countries,6 people’s experiences within ea
country show variation depending on their class, citizenship, sex,
and other aracteristics. As is the case everywhere, lower classes,
women, migrants, ildren and refugees encounter more problems
and are less likely to enjoy economic rights. Although I approa the
discussion of rights in the region as cognizant of the diversity and
different experiences, this apter inevitably includes some sweeping
statements and generalizations due to the concerns of space and for
the sake of parsimony.
106
Participation in the international human
rights regime
Within the United Nations-led human rights regime, economic
rights were articulated first in the Universal Declaration of Human
Rights (UDHR), adopted by the General Assembly (GA) of the
United Nations (U.N.) in 1948. ey were then elaborated on in the
International Covenant of Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
(ICESCR), whi was adopted on December 16, 1966, and entered
into force on January 3, 1976, in accordance with Article 27, when 35
countries ratified the treaty.
e aitude and behavior of the MENA countries in these
processes were not different from those of other countries. Several
MENA countries actively participated in the draing process of
these two documents, and many became a party to the ICESCR. A
key intellectual contributor to the draing of the UDHR at the U.N.
Commission on Human Rights was Charles Malik of Lebanon, who
also aired the ird Commiee that finalized the dra before it
was submied to the GA for voting. e minutes of the ird
Commiee discussions show interventions by Egypt, Iraq, Lebanon,
Saudi Arabia and Syria.7 When the Declaration was adopted with
only eight abstentions, only one MENA country, Saudi Arabia
abstained. Saudi Arabia’s main objections were related to Article 18
on freedom of thought and religion and to some provisions on
family.8,9,10
Economic and social rights were widely supported by the MENA
countries, particularly by Egypt, Saudi Arabia and Syria, whi also
opposed having two separate covenants.11 Draing the Covenants
involved more countries, since the process of decolonization,
accelerated in the 1950s and 1960s, expanded the U.N. membership.
107
ose who were actively involved in discussions included men and
women from the MENA region: Charles Malik (Lebanon), Jamil
Baroody (Saudi Arabia), Karim Azkoul (Lebanon), Halima Embarek
Warzazi (Morocco), Omar Loutfi (Egypt), Bedia Afnan (Iraq), Jawaat
Mui (Syria), and Mahmoud Azmi (Egypt).12
At the time of voting for the ICESCR, 15 MENA countries were
represented at the GA (Algeria, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Kuwait,
Lebanon, Libya, Morocco, Saudi Arabia, Sudan, Syria, Tunisia,
Turkey, and Yemen). Except Syria, whi did not participate in the
voting, all voted for the Covenant. As seen in Table 3.1, about half of
these countries also ratified the Covenant before December 1976,
thus helping it to enter into force.
Although many of these countries placed declarations or
reservations on the Covenant in most cases the content of the
declaration/reservation is not consequential for the fulfillment of the
state’s human rights obligations. ey are either interpretive
(Algeria) or political, stressing that the ratification of the treaty does
not entail the recognition of Israel (Iraq, Libya, Syria and Yemen).
Only those placed by Bahrain, Kuwait, and Turkey comprise some
restrictions on obligations.
Table 3.1 MENA Countries’ Position on the ICESCR
Country Date of Signature Date of Ratification
Algeria 1968 1989
a
Bahrain 2007
a
Djibouti 2002
Egypt 1967 1982
Iran 1968 1975
Iraq 1969 1971
a,b
Jordan 1972 1975
108
Country Date of Signature Date of Ratification
Kuwait 1996
a,b
Lebanon 1972
Libya 1970
a
Morocco 1977 1979
Oman
Qatar
Saudi Arabia 1986
Sudan
Syria 1969
a
Tunisia 1968 1969
Turkey 2000 2003
a,b
United Arab Emirates
Yemen 1987
a
Palestine N/A N/A
Source: Office of the High Commissioner of Human Rights,
hps://treaties.un.org/Pages/ViewDetails.aspx?src=TREATY&mtdsg_no=IV-
3&apter=4&lang=en (Accessed June 11, 2015).
Notes: a Declaration at the time of signature or ratification.
b Reservation placed at the time of signature or ratification.
A systematic comparison of the MENA with other regions is not a
purpose of this paper, but it is reasonable to conclude that the
participation, ratification and reservation rates by the MENA
countries are not significantly different from others. An exceptional
cluster may be the Gulf countries, but ratifications by Bahrain and
Kuwait spoil su a categorization, as well.
109
e right to employment
e causes of the protest movements that swept several countries in
the MENA region in 2011 and came to be known as ‘the Arab
Spring’ were multiple and simmering for a long time. e triggering
event, however, took place on December 17, 2010, when Mohamed
Bouazizi, a 26-year-old unemployed Tunisian engineer, protested the
police’s confiscation of his fruit stand—his last resort to make a
living—through self-immolation. His act resonated in many
countries, because long—term unemployment, especially among the
youth, has been a major problem in the region. With the rapid
population increase, the work force in the region has been increasing
at the fastest rate in the world, without a comparable increase in
demand for labor.13
Unemployment rate can be taken as a crude indicator of the
violation of the right to employment. Based on 2005 figures, the
International Labour Organisation delineated the MENA as the
region with the highest unemployment rate.14 While it tends to be
higher among rural, young, educated and female populations, the
scope of unemployment and the affected population varies from
country to country.
Since the economic structure of oil-exporting ri countries is
very different from that of aid-dependent poorer countries, the labor
markets of these two groups differ, as well. In the former, petro
dollars have allowed significant improvements in the standard of
living, but the dependency on a single capital-intensive sector has
not created many employment opportunities. However, the wealth
generated from oil fueled some other sectors su as construction
and tourism in some countries, but the jobs were filled by workers
imported first from other countries in the region and later from
110
South Asia.15 e consequence became “segmented labor markets”
that include “two separate employment regimes: one for nationals
who are primarily absorbed in the public sector and the other for
migrants who end up in private sector jobs.”16 While some oil ri
countries need to import labor due to their labor shortage, others
prefer foreign workers for their higher skills, lower cost, or docility.
e Sultanate of Oman, for example, is noted for its relatively high
unemployment rates, especially among women and youth, yet it still
employs imported labor.17
us, while unemployment haunts citizens, the other employment
related human rights violations affect the migrant workers most. In
addition to laing access to several social services available to the
citizens, their work environment and conditions tend to be unsafe,
especially for the unskilled laborers. Domestic workers, usually
women from Asian countries and preferred for their docility, are
particularly vulnerable. Moreover, migrant workers la job security.
Following the 1991 Gulf War, for example, Saudi Arabia and Kuwait
punished the countries that were sympathetic to Iraq, or did not side
with them, by expelling their citizens who had been working within
their borders.18 When the expelled Jordanians returned to their
country, unemployment in Jordan jumped from 16 percent to 25
percent.19
e right to employment and other related rights are most
severely violated in countries that are more populated and poorer.
Many of these countries export workers and rely on their
remiances as a major source of foreign currency and as a
substantial part of their national income.20 ese countries have
large, but increasingly shrinking and impoverished agricultural
sectors. Limited arable land, irrigation problems, unequal
distribution of land, and la of investments in the agricultural
sector push the rural population to migrate to the cities to seek
employment or beer earnings.21,22,23,24 Failing to absorb the
111
increasing population—due to both migration from rural areas and
high birth rates—cities produce large informal economies where jobs
are insecure and earnings are low.25
In the formal economies of the MENA, the public sector is larger.
Offering more secure and beer-paying jobs with more benefits, it is
also more aractive than the private sector.26 Dominated by capital-
intensive firms, the formal private sector offers fewer jobs. us,
most of the unemployed are absorbed by informal economies,
usually for entry-level jobs.27 e informal sector also employs
higher proportions of women, young, and ildren.28 e gap
between the public and private sector jobs, in terms of skill, pay,
benefits and security, is observed in oil-ri countries, as well.29 e
public sector in Kuwait, for example, accounts for 75 percent of the
GDP and 95 percent of the national labor force. Combined with a
liberal migrant labor policy, this situation causes the private non-oil
sector to rely heavily on less expensive and sometimes beer-trained
foreign workers.30
e bloated public sector generates disguised unemployment, on
the one hand,31 and serves as a form of welfare system, on the other.
e economic liberalization policies, implemented starting in the late
1970s have, however, crippled the employment and welfare function
of the state.32 As a result of anges in economic and social policies,
in Egypt the employment rate in the informal sector jumped from 4
percent in 1970 to 40 percent in 2000.33
Employment opportunities for women have been relatively
limited in the MENA region. Female participation in the economy
and the type of jobs that women can have, however, vary from
country to country and according to the class and education status
of individual women within ea country. As a result of a “dramatic
growth in the number of women who aained higher education in
the 1970s and 1980s,”34 well-educated upper-or middle-class women
enjoy more opportunities in the formal sector. Teaing, health care,
112
welfare, and manufacturing industries have become relatively more
open to women in most countries.35
However, higher economic participation rate for women is not
always caused by increased opportunities but also occurs due to
increased economic hardship.36 us, neither the wealth of the
country nor the educational aainment rate for women makes a
reliable predictor of the female participation in the workforce. e
strength of patriaral norms, acceptance of conservative
interpretations of Islam, and their codification into the law of the
country seem to be beer indicators.37 Although the oil economy is
oen linked to the marginalization of women in the labor market,38
the recent data do not support that claim. According to the 2014
Human Development Report, female labor participation rate ranged
from 13.4 percent in Syria to 50.8 percent in Qatar.39 As the trend has
not been always upward, the declining rates in Iraq and Syria during
the last few years can be aributed to the obstacles created by the
ongoing wars.
113
e right to livable wages/income
Following the establishment of the Organization of Petroleum
Exporting Countries (OPEC) in October 1973, the MENA region
entered an era that is referred to as the ‘oil decade,’ 1973–82. e
flow of petrodollars and labor migration stimulated the economy
both in oil ri and poorer countries, except for those that depended
on imported oil (e.g. Turkey). e economic boom allowed the wages
to increase. Wages were higher, usually by a factor of two or three,
in the MENA countries compared to many countries in East Asia.40
In the 1980s, however, “income growth in the region collapsed as a
whole and turned negative for many countries,”41 and social
programs have become targets for cuts.42 e structural adjustment
policies (SAPs), imposed on Egypt, Iran, Morocco, Tunisia and
Turkey as conditions for desperately needed loans involved various
austerity measures,43 lowered wages and increased the out of poet
expenses. e neo-liberal economic paradigm, imposed by the IMF
and the World Bank in the 1970s and 1980s, continued to be followed
in Turkey in the subsequent decades in its effort to meet the
economic conditions of European Union membership.44 e negative
impact of these ‘economic reforms’ and the steady decline in public
welfare institutions was felt by “all segments of the population
beyond the wealthy elite, but it has been particularly damaging for
the poor.”45,46
Although the agricultural sector has been neglected in favor of
industry and manufacturing, the growth in these areas could not
compensate for the loss in agricultural earnings. e fastest growing
sector in many countries has been the service sector,47 where the pay
tends to be lower. While wage gaps within MENA countries are no
higher than the gaps observed in other regions, the gaps between oil
114
ri and other countries in the region are significant. Although the
capital-intensive oil industry does not create many jobs, it pays well,
especially for skilled jobs. Moreover, depending on modern services
in the formal sector, capital-intensive firms stay in the formal sector.
Consequently, oil ri countries not only benefit from the wealth
generated from oil exports but also the large tax revenues obtained
from businesses operating in the formal sector. In other countries,
where modern services and infrastructure are modest, on the other
hand, private investments are aracted to the informal sector where
the labor practices are more relaxed and taxes can be avoided.48 e
result is not only lower wages and violation of labor rights but also
circumscribing the state’s ability to tax and use tax revenues for
social services.49 Moreover, income tax rates have been relatively
low, and the government reliance on indirect taxes (e.g. sale taxes),
whi are inherently regressive for applying the same flat rate
regardless of people’s income level, has been punitive for low-
income people.50
On the other hand, large capital-intensive companies enjoy a close
relationship with the government and benefit from a system that can
be aracterized as corporate welfare. For example, in Egypt, in 2010,
politically connected firms in capital-intensive industries (e.g.
pharmaceuticals), received 92 percent of government loans, enjoyed
60 percent of net profits, but accounted for only 11 percent of
employment.51
Inadequate earnings and poverty, both in rural and urban areas,
cause another problem: ild labor. While the scope of ild labor in
the MENA region does not rea the levels noted in South Asia and
sub-Saharan Africa, in some countries it is not only sizeable but also
directly or tacitly supported by the government. Egypt, whi is
estimated to have the largest ild labor rate in the region, had about
1.5 million ildren under the age of 14 working in the 1990s. ese
ildren comprised 9 percent of the age group and 7 percent of the
country’s total labor force, and eight out of ten of these working
115
ildren were employed in agriculture or related areas. It is noted
that the Ministry of Agriculture, whi owned about 10 percent of
Egypt’s coon fields, not only overlooked the regulations that
restrict ild employment but relied upon ildren as young as five
years old to pi coon in the state-owned fields.52
e la of employment opportunities for and the meager
earnings by adults result in a paradoxical situation in whi
unemployment co-exists with ild labor, because ild labor is not a
response to labor shortage but an outcome of poverty.53 us, not
different from the global paern, poorer countries in the MENA
region tend to appear with higher rates of ild labor. No maer
how small, ildren’s earnings are crucial to the survival of poor
households. Yet, ild labor not only violates the working ildren’s
social and economic rights but also denies them their ildhood.
116
e right to food
A persistent problem in the MENA region is food insecurities,
particularly in poor Arab-majority countries. e class biases within
ea country have been decisive, as well. According to a 2005 study,
malnourishment among poor Egyptian ildren was three times
higher than the wealthy ones.54
Most countries buy food from abroad55 and the level of
dependency on imported food has increased over time.56 Turkey is
the sole cereal exporter of the region but is still dependent on
imports for some food items.57 us, when the world food prices
rise, these countries are hit the hardest. Governments try to deal
with food insecurities and avoid mass starvation by devoting a
significant part of social welfare provisions to food subsidies.
Although the primary goal of food subsidies is to make food
affordable for the poor, inefficiencies prevent the poor form receiving
in proportion to their needs. Despite the program design and
delivery problems, subsidies offer considerable relief. When the
staple crops doubled in price and caused the local food prices in Egyt
to rise 37 percent, from 2007 to 2010,58 the government deflated the
consumer cost and made food affordable by investing 8.5 percent of
the GDP in subsidies.59
Subsidies can be explicit or implicit. Explicit subsidies use
identifying cards, coupons or vouers, while implicit subsidies
adjust market prices, tariffs, and currency. States in the MENA
region use different methods. Some employ universal subsidies,
whi apply to the entire population. Usually universal subsidies are
implicit, but some countries employ them explicitly. For example, the
Iraqi government offers rations—including rice, cooking oil, flour,
and milk powder—to every household as a basic safety net.
117
Implicitly applied universal subsidy systems usually include support
systems for producers, increased imports and price ceilings. While
some analysts support universal subsidies for their effective delivery
and avoiding stigma caused by targeted subsidies, others criticize
them for inefficiencies, for being regressive and causing inequitable
distribution, since the wealthy can afford to purase larger shares of
the supply and cause a shortage for the less wealthy.60,61,62 Until the
1990s, Tunisia implemented subsidies largely implicitly, through
price controls and tariffs, but as the program grew more expensive,
the country swited to programs that target poorer populations.63
e Egyptian government issues subsidy coupons, in ‘green books’
or ‘red books’ that carry different statuses.64 International lending
agencies, su as the International Monetary Fund and the World
Bank, pressure countries into eliminating universal subsidy systems.
Although the elimination of subsidies, without an effective
alternative, would be devastating for the majority of the population
in poorer countries, it is also a fact that these policies do not address
the root causes of food insecurities and poverty. Moreover, subsidy
programs are used for the purposes of social stability and control,
rather than to fulfill people’s economic rights.65 For example, it is
argued that the former Egyptian President Mubarak implemented
subsidies, along with other social programs, to promote support for
his government.66
118
e right to education
Modernization projects of post-independent governments involved
wide-ranging social policies that included subsidized staples and
public utilities, health care, pension plans for state employees, and
free sooling.67,68 Recognizing education as an important catalyst
for development, political socialization, and nation building,
nationalist governments invested in the public education system
considerably.69 us, by the 1970s the MENA region managed to
close the gap with other developing regions su as Latin America
and Asia. e increased oil revenues allowed further investment in
education in the 1970s, and educational expansions were particularly
impressive in higher education.70 While increased access to higher
education allowed for social mobility, this was mostly aieved
through government hiring, “resulting in high rates of hidden
unemployment during the 1970s and 1980s.”71,72 e la of
employment opportunities, however, engendered a discontented
educated population, whi ended up being unemployed or
underemployed.
Without increases in employment opportunities, education
stopped serving as a meanism of social mobility. In fact,
educational systems in the region are continuously criticized for
subsidizing higher education for the wealthy and neglecting primary
and secondary education that would help lower classes.73 Poor
quality of instruction, run-down and overcrowded buildings,
unhealthy and inadequate learning environments, and inadequate
aention to producing students with ‘employable skills’ are also
frequently cited by critics.74,75,76
e educational expansion in oil ri countries has been relatively
more successful than in aid-dependent countries. Governments in
119
Qatar, UAE, and Saudi Arabia aracted some prestigious universities
of the United States to establish campuses in their country. While
quality education in these institutions may help students to be more
employable, it is noted that many of these new universities enrolled
a limited number of nationals.77 us, analysts tend to agree that
while education was emphasized, it was never established as a
human resource towards employment.78 We may add that it was
never approaed as a human right. Class, rural-urban and gender
gaps have been wide, though several countries have managed
closing the gender gap for younger generations (i.e. Algeria, Jordan,
Kuwait, Oman, Palestine, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Tunisia, and UAE).79
120
e right to health and health care
All MENA countries have improved health conditions and
accomplished significant reductions in infant and maternal mortality
rates, and increases in life expectancy.80 e oil boom and
investments anneled to social welfare and health care allowed the
region to close the gap with other developing regions in the 1970s.81
However, economic liberalization, volatile revenues, and the
hardship imposed by military conflicts in several countries stalled
the progress and pushed the MENA below Latin America and East
Asia on health indicators.82 Even those countries that continue to
invest in health care and show rapid increases in health spending
suffer from insufficient health care systems and shortage of medical
personnel.
e division between the oil ri and aid-dependent countries is
most profound in regard to the health allenges that they face and
solutions that they offer.83 Non-communicable diseases su as
obesity, diabetes, and heart diseases are more common and acute in
wealthy countries, while poorer countries struggle with
communicable diseases. Governments in the former group managed
to solve basic health care problems, at least for their nationals, by
offering a higher standard of living and shiing significant funds to
address health issues.84 ese countries have been consistently
ranked higher on the U.N.’s human development index, whi
includes life expectancy at birth, along with income levels and
education aainment rates.85 Despite the increases in spending,
however, they la proper infrastructure, adequate numbers of
hospitals, and educated medical personnel. us, they rely on
migrant labor. Some of these countries also enforce mandatory
medical insurance.86
121
e increasing dependence on insurance companies reduces the
less wealthy populations’ access to health care. Mu of the MENA
region las adequate public health care systems and depends on
private providers and insurance companies. Public health care
systems cover only about 30–40 percent of the population in MENA;
moreover, they are typically limited to citizens working in the public
sector.87 Access enabled through employment leaves out the
majority of the population and practically the entire rural sector.
Health care is another problem: the poor quality, long waits for the
service, and old tenology that aracterize many public health
care systems force large segments of the population to turn to
private providers and insurance companies.88
Communicable diseases continue to be a problem because
preventive health care has not received enough aention, and poorer
countries and rural areas la proper sanitation, as well as access to
clean water.89 Rapid and uneven urbanization, whi led to the
growth of shantytowns with substandard housing,90 aggravated the
situation. Water constitutes a major problem, both in terms of
quantity and quality. Since the water demand exceeds the water
supply, water has been heavily subsidized in the region.91
122
Internally displaced people and refugees
Internally displaced people (IDP) and refugees are not only among
the most vulnerable populations but they also experience many
human rights violations by default. e MENA region has
encountered many conflicts with varying degrees of severity. It is
best known for ‘the Arab-Israeli conflict,’ whi has had the most
devastating impact on Palestinians, who became permanent refugees
in their own land, as well as in several other countries in the region.
According to the United Nations Relief and Works Agency for
Palestinian Refugees in the Near East (UNRWA), “some 5 million
Palestine refugees are eligible for UNRWA services” and “Nearly
one-third of the registered Palestine refugees, more than 1.5 million
individuals, live in 58 recognized Palestine refugee camps in Jordan,
Lebanon, the Syrian Arab Republic, the Gaza Strip and the West
Bank, including East Jerusalem.”92 241,000 Palestinians are registered
in Saudi Arabia.93
Other internal and international conflicts, su as recurring civil
wars in Yemen, Lebanon, and Sudan, the conflict over the Western
Sahara, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the repression of Kurds
and the PKK insurgency in Turkey, and the three Gulf Wars,94
uprooted many more people who became IDP or refugees. As the
protest movements of the Arab Spring turned into armed conflicts in
Libya and Syria, the number of the displaced in the region increased
significantly. While the IDP or refugee status entails enormous
hardship under the best circumstances, the massive population flows
into unprepared and relatively poor countries engender living
conditions and local hostilities that violate human rights and human
dignity on a daily basis.
123
Conclusion
Although the state of economic rights in the MENA has been
problematic, the region does not fare any worse than other
developing regions, except in terms of unemployment. In fact, the
proportion of population living in poverty tends to be lower than it
is in other regions, and the income inequality levels are “relatively
modest, with GINI coefficients ranging between 0.32 and 0.41” in
Arab countries,95 0.40 in Turkey, and 0.44 in Iran.96 Yet, it is
particularly difficult to accept the poor economic rights conditions in
countries that are wealthy. We may aribute the problems in those
countries to mismanagement of resources and la of political will.
However, the roles of external interference, both economic and
military, and the la of cooperation among the countries within the
region cannot be underestimated. Conflicts and militarization of the
region absorb a good portion of the wealth, and both in ri and
poor countries governments divert significant funds to arms exports
and to sustain large defense forces and institutions. Instability in the
region also triggers capital flight because the affluent tend to secure
their wealth by banking and investing their money in other
countries.
In 1992, some 20 international solars met to discuss the
economic impact of the Arab–Israeli conflict and laid out the
possible economic benefits of peace and cooperation.97 A few years
later, their sentiments were reiterated by others, who addressed
possible development outcomes of cooperation with a greater
optimism.98 While the continuation of conflicts addressed in those
studies prevented the realization of their proposals,99 since then the
region has been drawn into further conflict and has experienced
both international and civil war more widely. us the prospect of
124
economic rights in the region remains grim for the majority of the
population, at least in the near future.
125
Notes
1 I would like to thank my assistants Nellie Binder, Abdullah Hasan, and Rubayet Lasker
for their library resear and preparatory work.
2 ere is no agreed definition of the MENA region. For the purposes of this paper, it is
defined to include all North African countries and the narrowly defined Middle East,
whi includes Turkey, Iran and Arab-majority countries. Although geographically a
part of the Middle East, Israel is le out due to its rather unique position in the region.
See Table 1 for the list of countries.
3 Alan Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East, 3rd ed. (Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 2013).
4 e interdependency of rights was affirmed in outcome documents produced at the two
Human Rights Conferences held by the United Nations. In addition to the Proclamation
of Teheran, issued in 1968, the Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action of 1993
stresses that human rights are not only universal but also “indivisible and
interdependent and interrelated” and of equal importance for human dignity. See,
Vienna Declaration and Programme of Action, U.N. GAOR, World Conf. on Hum. Rts.,
48th Sess., 22d plen. mtg., part I, U.N. Doc. A/CONF.157/24 (1993), reprinted in 32 I.L.M.
1661 (1993). For some other references on interdependency of rights at international
forums, see Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat. “Human rights and democracy: expanding or
contracting” in Polity vol. 32, no. 1 (1999): 119–144.
5 Right to property is excluded due to its ambiguous treatment in the Universal
Declaration of Human rights and omission in the International Covenant on Economic
Social and Cultural Rights. For a discussion of the implication of these and
complications related to property rights, see Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat. “Human rights
ideology and dimensions of power: the state, property, and discrimination” in Human
Rights Quarterly vol. 30, no. 4 (2008): 906–932, especially the sections on economic
dimension of power.
126
6 It is noted that “the average Arab state derives greater aid rents than the average low-
income country or than a state in sub-Saharan Africa. Over the last fiy years, the
MENA region received roughly three times more net aid per capita than Latin America”
(Malik 2014, 100).
7 Susan Waltz, “Universal human rights: e contribution of Muslim states,” Human
Rights Quarterly 26, no. 4 (2004): 801–844.
8 Ibid.
9 Mary Ann Glendon, A World Made New: Eleanor Roosevelt and the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights (New York: Random House Publishing Group, 2001).
10 Johannes Morsink, The Universal Declaration of Human Rights: Origins, Drafting, and
Intent (Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press, 1999).
11 Waltz, “Universal human rights.”
12 Ibid.
13 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
14 Ibid.
15 Ibid.
16 Adeel Malik, “A requiem for the Arab developmental model,” Journal of International
Affairs vol. 68, no. 1 (2014): 93–115.
17 Mojca Zerovec and Marike Bontenbal, “Labor nationalization policies in Oman:
implications for Omani and migrant women workers,” Asian and Pacific Migration
Journal vol. 20, no. 3–4 (2012): 365–387.
18 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
19 Hani Abu-Jabarah, “Economics of Peace: Jordan,” in The Economics of Middle East Peace:
Views from the Region, ed. Stanley Fiser, Dani Rodrik, and Elias Tuma (Cambridge:
MIT Press, 1993), 181–199.
20 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
21 Ibid.
127
22 Pierre-Riard Agenor et al., “Labor market reforms, growth, and unemployment in
labor-exporting countries in the Middle East and North Africa,” Journal of Policy
Modeling vol. 29, no. 2 (2007): 277–309.
23 Gad G. Gilbar, The Middle East Oil Decade and Beyond: Essays in Political Economy
(London: Frank Cass, 1997).
24 Alan Riards, “Food problems and state policies in the Middle East and North Africa,”
in Pursuing Food Security: Strategies and Obstacles in Africa, Asia, Latin America, and
the Middle East, ed. W. Ladd Hollist and F. LaMond Tullis (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner
Publishers, 1987), 287–311.
25 Agenor et al., “Labor market reforms, growth, and unemployment in labor-exporting
countries in the Middle East and North Africa.”
26 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
27 Malik, “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
28 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
29 Mohamed Chemingui, “Petroleum revenues in Gulf Cooperation Council Countries and
their labor market paradox,” Journal of Policy Modeling vol. 30, no. 3 (2008): 491–503.
30 Ibid.
31 Gilbar, The Middle East Oil Decade and Beyond.
32 Jane Harrigan and Hamed El-Said, Economic Liberalisation, Social Capital and Islamic
Welfare Provision (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2009).
33 Malik “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
34 Gilbar, The Middle East Oil Decade and Beyond.
35 Valentine Moghadam, “Women’s economic participation in the Middle East,” Journal of
Middle East Women’s Studies 1, no. 1 (2005): 110–146.
36 Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat, “Women’s rights and the UN: would aieving gender equality
empower women? Feminisms,” American Political Science Review 109, no. 4 (2015): 674-
689.
128
37 Valentine Moghadam and Farzaneh Roudi-Fahimi, Reforming Family Laws to Promote
Progress in the Middle East and North Africa (Population Reference Bureau, May 5,
2005), accessed June 11, 2015.
38 Tyra Murielle Bouhamdan, “Religion, the law and the human rights of women in the
Middle East: a quantitative analysis,” 2009.
39 See Human Development Report (New York: UNDP, 2014). Syria is followed by Iraq,
Algeria, Palestine, Jordan, Iran and Saudi Arabia, with rates in teens; Lebanon, Egypt,
Tunisia, Yemen, Oman and Turkey, with rates in twenties; Libya, Sudan; Djibouti,
Bahrain in thirties; and Morocco, Kuwait, and United Arab Emirates with over 40
percent.
40 Moghadam, “Women’s economic participation in the Middle East.”
41 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
42 Massoud Karshenas, Valentine Moghadam, and Randa Alami, “Social policy aer the
Arab Spring: states and social rights in the MENA region,” World Development 64
(2014): 726–739.
43 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
44 Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat and omas Smith, “e EU and human rights in Turkey:
Political freedom without social welfare?,” in European Institutions, Democratization,
and Human Rights Protection in the European Periphery, ed. Henry Carey (Lanham,
Maryland: Rowman and Lilefield, 2014), 31–65.
45 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
46 Riards, “Food problems and state policies in the Middle East and North Africa.”
47 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
48 Roger Gordon and Wei Li, “Puzzling tax structures in developing countries: A
comparison of two alternative explanations,” in Fiscal Policy and Management in East
Asia, ed. Takatoshi Ito and Andrew K. Rose (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
2007), 9–35.
49 Riard Grabowski, “Implicit taxation of agriculture in Egypt: e cause of development
failure in Egypt,” African Development Review vol. 24, no. 2 (2012): 183–193.
129
50 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
51 Malik, “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
52 Emad Mekay, “An economic essential? (Child labor in Egypt),” The Middle East vol. 272
(1997): 38–40.
53 Zehra F. Kabasakal Arat, “Analyzing ild labor as a human rights issue: Its causes,
aggravating policies, and alternative proposals,” Human Rights Quarterly vol. 24, no. 1
(2002): 177–204.
54 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
55 Ibid.
56 Riards, “Food problems and state policies in the Middle East and North Africa.”
57 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
58 “Let them eat baklava,” The Economist (Mar 17, 2012).
59 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
60 Anshul Jain, “Revolution, resilience and the pirates’ paradox: Food subsidies, economic
complexity and regime durability across the Middle East and North Africa,” Journal of
Asia Pacific Studies 3, no. 3 (2014): 367–384.
61 Carlo Sdralevi et al., Subsidy and Reform in the Middle East and North Africa: Recent
Progress and Challenges Ahead (Washington, DC: International Monetary Fund, 2014).
62 Malik, “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
63 Jain, “Revolution, resilience and the pirates’ paradox.”
64 Ibid.
65 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
66 Hu-ju Kwon, andika Mkandawire, and Joakim Palme, “Introduction: social policy
and economic development in late industrializers,” International Journal of Social
Welfare 18, no. 1 (2009): S1–S11.
67 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
68 Pension plans for the state employees were later expanded in some countries to include
other social security and welfare benefits su as disability, work injury and
130
unemployment insurance, siness and maternity leave, and family allowances
(Karshenas, Moghadam and Alami 2014, 734).
69 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
70 Gilbar, The Middle East Oil Decade and Beyond.
71 Ibid.
72 Ingo Forstenlener and Emilie Rutledge, “Unemployment in the Gulf: Time to update
the social contract,” Middle East Policy 17, no. 2 (2010): 38–51.
73 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
74 Malik, “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
75 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
76 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
77 Ingo Forstenlener and Emilie Rutledge, “Unemployment in the Gulf: Time to update
the social contract,” Middle East Policy 17, no. 2 (2010): 38–51.
78 Kwon, Mkandawire, and Palme, ‘Social policy and economic development in late
industrializers.’
79 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
80 Ibid.
81 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
82 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
83 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
84 Peter Feuilherade, “GCC healthcare spending surges as demand soars,” The Middle East,
2015, accessed June 11, 2015.
85 e 2013 rankings are: 31 Qatar; 34 Saudi Arabia; 40 UAE; 44 Bahrain; 46 Kuwait; 55
Libya; 56 Oman; 65 Lebanon; 69 Turkey; 77 Jordan; 90 Tunisia; 93 Algeria; 107 Palestine;
110 Egypt; 118 Syria; 120 Iraq; 129 Morocco; 135 Iran; 154 Yemen; 166 Sudan; and 170
Djibouti (Human Development Report 2014).
86 Feuilherade, “GCC healthcare spending surges as demand soars.”
131
87 Karshenas, Moghadam, and Alami, “Social policy aer the Arab Spring.”
88 Ibid.
89 Ibid.
90 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
91 Ibid.
92 See the official website of the UNRWA, www.unrwa.org/palestine-refugees (Accessed
June 18, 2015).
93 Riards et al., A Political Economy of the Middle East.
94 ey include: Iran–Iraq in 1980–8; Iraq–Kuwait and its international allies in 1991; and
the United States-led war against Iraq that started in 2003.
95 Malik, “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
96 Turkey’s figure is for 2011 and reported by the World Bank.
hp://data.worldbank.org/indicator/SI.POV.GINI (Accessed June 19, 2015). e statistics
for Iran is for 2006 and posted by the CIA. See, www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-
world-factbook/rankorder/2172rank.html (Accessed June 19, 2015). Some of these figures
should be interpreted with caution, because they may not be comparable and indicators
tell partial stories. For example, while only 17.5 percent of the population in Yemen is
aracterized as living in poverty by the PPP$1.25/a day measure, nearly 53 percent is
listed as multi-dimensionally poor (Malik 2014, 105).
97 Stanley Fiser, Dani Rodrik, and Elias Tuma, eds, The Economics of Middle East Peace:
Views from the Region (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1993).
98 Ali Çarkoglu, Mine Eder, and Kemal Kirisci, The Political Economy of Regional
Cooperation in the Middle East (London: Routledge, 1998).
99 is should not mean that their proposals geared toward fulfilling economic rights. In
fact, some of the proposed policies, su as economic liberalization and cuing
subsidies, would have likely to had detrimental impacts on economic rights, even if they
helped stimulating economic growth. On the negative impact of warfare and military
spending and possibility for a ange with a more reserved optimism, see William B.
132
andt, “e Middle East on the brink: Prospects for ange in the 21st century” in
Middle East Journal vol. 50, no. 1 (1996): 9–17.
133
Selected Bibliography
Arat, Zehra F. Kabasakal. “Analyzing ild labor as a human rights
issue: Its causes, aggravating policies, and alternative proposals.”
Human Rights Quarterly vol. 24, no. 1 (2002): 177–204.
Arat, Zehra F. Kabasakal, and Smith, omas. “e EU and human
rights in Turkey: Political freedom without social welfare?” In
European Institutions, Democratization, and Human Rights
Protection in the European Periphery, edited by Henry Carey, 31
–65. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Lilefield, 2014.
Chemingui, Mohamed. “Petroleum revenues in Gulf Cooperation
Council Countries and their labor market paradox.” Journal of
Policy Modeling vol. 30, no. 3 (2008): 491–503.
Feuilherade, Peter. “GCC healthcare spending surges as demand
soars.” The Middle East, 2015. Accessed June 11, 2015.
www.themiddleeastmagazine.com/wp-mideastmag-
live/2014/11/business-healthcare-spending-surges-demand-soars.
Gilbar, Gad G. The Middle East Oil Decade and Beyond: Essays in
Political Economy. London: Frank Cass, 1997.
Jain, Anshul. “Revolution, resilience and the pirates’ paradox: Food
subsidies, economic complexity and regime durability across the
Middle East and North Africa.” Journal of Asia Pacific Studies
vol. 3, no. 3 (2014): 367–384.
Karshenas, Massoud, Valentine Moghadam, and Randa Alami.
‘Social policy aer the Arab Spring: States and social rights in
the MENA region.’ World Development vol. 64 (2014): 726–739.
Malik, Adeel. “A requiem for the Arab developmental model.”
Journal of International Affairs vol. 68, no. 1 (2014): 93–115.
Moghadam, Valentine. “Women’s economic participation in the
Middle East.” Journal of Middle East Women’s Studies vol. 1, no.
134
1 (2005): 110–146.
Riards, Alan, John Waterbury, Melani Camme, and Ishac Diwan.
A Political Economy of the Middle East. 3rd ed. Boulder, CO:
Westview Press, 2013.
Waltz, Susan. “Universal human rights: e contribution of Muslim
States.” Human Rights Quarterly vol. 26, no. 4 (2004): 801–844.
135
4
Cultural Rights in the Middle East
and North Africa
Art, revolution, and repression
Mark LeVine
136
Introduction
e dynamics surrounding freedom of cultural and artistic
expression are part of a set of intertwined issues related to the place
of human rights in contemporary societies in the Middle East and
North Africa (MENA). is apter explores the nature and
dynamics of cultural and artistic rights in the context of
governments’ silencing and censorship of cultural expression and
spee more broadly across the MENA. is context brings into play
human rights discourses, the constitutional and legal framework in
whi these rights (and their curtailment) are situated, and finally
the specific experiences of some of the region’s most important
political and revolutionary artists during the half decade of the ‘Arab
Spring era’ (whi here includes the Iranian Green movement of
2009 and the Turkish Gezi protests of 2013). More broadly, this
apter recognizes the transformative and even revolutionary
potential of art, whi is why governments both aempt to
instrumentally use it to their benefit and to repress art that
allenges its systems of control.
It is not surprising that censorship is a core meanism of
controlling populations in highly authoritarian societies, for the act
of silencing human expression is the epitome of how states “control
and intervene in the liberal subject’s absolute right to free
expression.”1 Most aention is paid to press and internet censorship.
Far less aention is paid, however, to the way governments aempt
to control and censor artistic production, despite the long and oen
illing history of repression of cultural and particularly artistic
expression across the region. As the U.N. Special Rapporteur on
Cultural Rights describes it, “Artistic voices have been or are being
silenced by various means and in different … political, religious,
137
cultural or moral, or … economic ways.”2 Yet to this day there have
been few analyses of the dynamics by whi su silencing has
occurred, despite the powerful role of the arts in the protests, revolts
and uprisings.
Indeed, despite the move towards greater political freedoms in
some countries in the wake of the Arab uprisings of the last half-
decade, censorship and government repression regarding freedom of
expression and artistic freedom have continued and in many cases
worsened in most every country, including already democratic
Turkey and newly democratic Tunisia.3 To understand why it is
important to focus on these rights, even as other political, economic
and social freedoms and rights also continue to be trampled upon,
we need first to discuss precisely how culture and cultural rights fit
into the larger framework of human rights.
138
Cultural freedom and expression in the era of
neoliberal globalization
Any discussion of cultural rights and freedom of expression in the
MENA has the unenviable task of bringing together arguments and
aitudes derived from fieen centuries of Islamic thinking about art,
culture and freedom of thought, three centuries of post-
Enlightenment philosophical and political discussions of ‘culture’
and ‘rights,’ more than half a century of post-1945 international law
regarding human rights, a quarter century (at least) of neoliberal
globalization and its unprecedented transformation in the ways in
whi culture is produced, circulated and consumed, and more than
half a decade of political unrest across a region streting from
Morocco to Iran.
Like most great epistemological and discursive systems, Islamic
beliefs, practices and cultures have long had an ambivalent
relationship to cultural expression and freedoms. Islamic history has
witnessed some of humanity’s most innovative and aesthetically
complex and hybrid cultural and artistic creation, as well as some of
the most intensive aempts to limit and circumscribe both. Su
contradictory impulses remain today; as I explain below, most
Muslim majority countries censor or otherwise restrict artistic
production on the justification of specific conservative
interpretations of Islamic law or morality. Yet these same countries
are home to some of the most powerful and original cultural
productions of the global era.4 Here I will deal with the
contemporary situation as it’s evolved in the era of neoliberal
globalization.
139
Globalization and cultural expression and freedom
A discussion of how freedom of cultural/artistic expression has been
experienced in the MENA region necessitates first a discussion of
how cultural rights and freedom of expression fit into the wider
discourse of human rights. In the MENA’s revolutionary and post-
revolutionary periods (late 2010 to the present) we can delineate
three stages in struggles for cultural rights: those where protests led
to significant constitutional anges (Tunisia, Egypt, and Morocco),
those where protests were successfully pacified by either significant
state violence or various forms of cooptation, or both (Bahrain and
the other Gulf countries, Jordan, Iraq, Palestine, and Iran), and
countries where these struggles have been subsumed by broader civil
wars (Syria, Libya, and Yemen).
Turkey merits separate mention in su a sema because its Gezi
Park protests, while resembling and to a significant extent inspired
by the so-called Arab Spring protests (and the global Occupy
movement that emerged soon aer their outbreak), occurred in a
functioning parliamentary democratic (if increasingly allenged)
system. Additionally, we need to assess the relationship between
constitutional and legal regimes relating to cultural and artistic
freedom, censorship and similar issues, and the practices on the
ground in whi su regimes have varying degrees of impact. at
is to say, sometimes existing prohibitions can be effectively ignored
by artists and at other times existing or newly enshrined freedoms
are ignored by governments or conservative social forces.
e era of ‘globalization’ is oen identified with political
beginnings in the Eastern European revolutions of 1989, the demise
of the Soviet Union soon thereaer, and the rise of the unipolar,
American-dominated ‘New World Order.’ A core component of the
1989 revolutions was, for many solars, the rise of independent civil
societies and public spheres, whi increasingly succeeded in
operating outside government control. is helped shape public
140
consciousness around fundamental human rights that provided the
intellectual and epistemological foundations for aaing the
authoritarian states of Eastern Europe. Unfortunately, in the MENA
maers moved in the opposite direction, as neoliberal policies led to
greater corruption and inequality in what had previously been one
of the world’s more egalitarian regions, as well as the rise of
‘security states’ (cf. Amar 2013) that depended on greater
surveillance and repression of citizens in the absence of improving
their human development.
On the other hand, during the 1990s new tenologies associated
with globalization—computers, satellite televisions, mobile phones
and the internet and social media—would begin penetrating the
region, exploding in their usage and importance in the 2000s. ey
enabled the allenge of authoritarian governments at a moment in
whi the old ‘patrimonial bargains’ between states and societies
were breaking down in response to ‘structural adjustment’ policies
that cut government spending on social spending su as health and
education, as well as states’ abilities effectively to generate
employment for rapidly expanding populations.
As the promised benefits of economic globalization passed by the
majority of the MENA’s inhabitants (even as it enried elites), it
was culture that became the most powerful vehicle for the
incorporation of the region into the anging global system.5 Here it
is important not to understand culture in static terms, as simple
aesthetic products, but rather as the performance of people’s
identities. e notion of performance is crucial. Performing culture is
an inherently public act, puing the individual or group in direct
contact, and thus at some point conflict—with other members of
society. And of the performative components of culture it is art—
from music to painting, theater to poetry—that is the most
inherently public. is is true even when the public in question is
limited, by censorship or other laws or customs, to a small number
of people consuming the art more or less clandestinely.
141
Cultural rights, and as part of them freedom of expression, have
always been ‘bound closely’ to the broader discourse of human
rights.6 Articles 16, 18, and 22 through 27 of the Universal
Declaration of Human Rights (UDHR) specifically treat cultural
issues, declaring in Article 22 that “everyone is entitled to the
realization of the economic, social and cultural rights indispensable
for his dignity.” Other culture-related rights dealt with in the UDHR
include the right to marry (Art. 16), the right to “freedom of thought,
conscience and religion” (Art. 18), the right to work and form labor
unions (Art. 23), to rest and leisure (Art. 24), to a decent standard of
living (Art. 25), to education (Art. 26) and “to freely participate in the
cultural life of the community, to enjoy the arts, and to share in
scientific advancement,” as well as to “the protection of the moral
and material interests resulting from any scientific, literary or
artistic production of whi he is the author” (Art. 27).
Even more broadly, Articles 28 and 29 lay out the right of
everyone to live within a “social and international order in whi
the rights and freedoms set forth in this Declaration can be fully
realized.” What is more, ‘cultural development’ is directly tied to the
right to self-determination—from Western Sahara to Palestine,
peoples who are denied their right to self-determination rarely have
a full measure of cultural freedom and rights either, whi is in turn
tied to the ‘development,’ ‘diffusion,’ and ‘openness’ of culture to
everyone (ICESCR, Part 1, Arts. 1, 15). ere is thus not merely the
individual right to core cultural freedoms but also the societal level
obligation of states and citizens alike to ensure ea member of their
society can exercise these rights, as further elaborated in treaties
su as the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights, the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights, the
Convention on the Rights of the Child and the Convention on the
Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, among
others.
142
e increasing penetration of globalized culture profoundly
impacted societies around the world. What Arab critics have
referred to as the ‘cultural invasion’ (ghazu thaqafi) from the West
began with satellite television, whi exploded in the 1980s and
1990s across the region, bringing everything from first run
Hollywood films to soap operas and pornography to an
unprecedented share of the Arab public with lile effective
censorship. And yet despite intense criticisms, the people of the
region also absorbed, integrated, and retooled the most important
tenologies and cultural products emerging during this era.
e most profound phenomenon was the rise of alJazeera as the
first broadly independent Arabic-language news source in the Arab
world. is opened up the public sphere to unprecedented levels of
criticism of Arab leaders and the existing order more widely.
AlJazeera was a turning point because its most popular shows
allowed the audience to call and express uncensored views that
would easily land them in jail if uered openly in their home
countries. But alJazeera was not the only annel to profoundly
impact segments of the local population. Another network—MTV—
also fundamentally anged the viewing habits, and culture, of a
crucial segment of the population, as shows like “Headbangers Ball”
and “Yo! MTV Raps” brought heavy metal and hiphop to an
emerging generation of Arabs at precisely the time the region’s
“unprecedented youth bulge” exploded.7
is kind of interaction between media and audience became a
core experience with the rise of the internet and social media.
Indeed, the explosion of internet-driven social media gelled perfectly
with the do-it-yourself (DIY) aitude at the core of music and arts
scenes like heavy metal, hiphop, and graffiti. Beginning with email
listservs and blogs before moving to Myspace, Facebook, Twier and
other interactive social media, these media provided unprecedented
abilities for alienated young people with no investment in the
existing systems and lile hope for a beer future to communicate
143
outside the control of authoritarian and conservative political and
social orders. At the core of these social media tenologies was the
creation of communities of solidarity—subcultures that would
become counter cultures and ultimately, in some cases and for a
time, politicized revolutionary cultures with whi existing regimes
of control could not cope.8 ese emerging subcultures eventually
came to be at the core of the Arab uprisings.
144
Censorship as a constraining and
constructive force
Censorship has constrained and even defined the production of
culture across the MENA region since the colonial era, despite being
a direct violation of Article 19 of the Universal Declaration of
Human rights and of the International Covenant on Civil and
Political Rights. At the same time, not all types or rationales for
censorship are equal or operate on the same dynamics. Broadly
speaking, we can delineate two types of censored spee—moral and
political, and three forces involved in it—governments, social
pressure, and market forces. ese then are expressed in two modes,
active and passive, or self-censorship.
Moral censorship involves censoring spee, including and oen
particularly artistic spee, that is perceived to violate social norms
and mores and threaten the social and moral order of society.
Sexually related or explicit spee is the most common example of
this type of motivation for censorship, along with spee that mos
or allenges religious or cultural beliefs and/or identities. is
motivation for censoring freedom of expression or broader cultural
rights (for example, the right to marry whomever one wants) can
remain in force to various degrees, and even intensify, aer
transitions to democratic rule.
e second type of censorship involves silencing political spee.
In our cases, this involves silencing artistic expression that criticizes
governments or elites. is is the censorship that is most relevant to
the immediate context of the uprisings in Iran, the Arab world and
Turkey, although all Arab/Muslim countries also have fairly
extensive moral censorship regimes that in fact under normal
145
circumstances constitute the bulk of the active censorship of artistic
production.
For both types of censorship, the silencing of spee usually
occurs through a combination of legal, administrative, juridical, and
police actions by governments, social pressure by religious and other
social movements, and economic pressure through the refusal of
economic entities su as record companies, radio stations, music
video annels or programs, and advertisers to produce, broadcast or
finance their music. Finally, active censorship results from the
actions or directives of those in political, social and/or economic
power against artists. It can vary in intensity from merely
aempting to prevent the distribution of censored artistic works to
imprisoning, torturing and/or killing artists (as happened, for
example, with the brutal murder of Syrian protest singer Ibrahim
Qashoush, who was killed almost certainly by government assassins
who slit his throat and ripped out his vocal ords). Passive self-
censorship, as the term suggests, occurs when artists censor their
own work because they fear what state, social or corporate/market
forces might do to them if they do not.
is matrix helps us understand the complexity of the dynamics
surrounding censorship and the broader denial of freedom of
expression for artists across the MENA region. Under normal
conditions censorship does not work merely through repression.
While we tend to conceive of censorship in zero-sum terms, in
reality negotiation between the censor and the censored is crucial to
the process fulfilling one of its essential functions, not so mu to
exclude people or ideas as to shape and incorporate them into the
broader social body in a disciplined manner. Indeed, in countries like
Egypt or Morocco negotiations can and do occur with state censors
over issues related to sexuality in videos or lyrics, while even the
most conservative of countries, Saudi Arabia, is home to the
purveyors of some of the Arab world’s most hyper-sexualized pop
music.
146
On the other hand, by definition, revolutionary artists are seeking
to radically ange the system. eir art becomes a “key means of
revolution,” as the revolutionary Egyptian hiphop artist Deeb
explains it as they become truly “political” artists.9 e goal of most
governments, then, is where possible to co-opt potentially
revolutionary artists before they can allenge them, or at least
redirect their activities away from directly allenging the system
through various combinations of incentives. ese include
everything from direct or indirect patronage, to either threats of or
actual censorship and repression.
As internet usage skyroeted and more citizens took up social
media in the early 2000s, the dynamics surrounding censorship
anged. Direct censorship by governments was no longer a primary
concern for many musical artists because the internet afforded them
opportunities to rea unprecedented numbers of people more or less
outside of government control. e religious extremism of the
previous decade, whi had led to aas and even murder of artists
and was accompanied by arrests and prosecution of artists and fans,
gave way to a more laissez faire aitude towards most forms of
popular music, both by governments and many socio-religious
movements.
However, other arts were not as positively impacted by the
internet as music, whi was uniquely able to take advantage of the
manner in whi new tenologies allowed for low-cost and even
free production, distribution and consumption to an
unprecedentedly wide audience, almost completely outside the
control of any government or social group. In comparison, art forms
su as theater or graffiti are mu more dependent on control over
specific spaces, whi gives governments the upper hand in
authoritarian societies except at moments of intense political
upheaval or revolution, su as occurred in Iran in 2009, the Arab
world in 2010–12 and Turkey in 2014.
147
Constitutions versus laws
In looking at the legal regime under whi censorship has operated
across the region, three main areas need to be differentiated. e first
are the broad principles outlined in constitutions, whi have tended
to offer statements of support for media, press and artistic freedom
as well as freedom of spee. e second layer is that, even where
constitutions offer generic free spee protections, specific laws in
force can remain quite restrictive. Unless courts rule that these laws
are unconstitutional they remain the arbiter of spee in legal and
political practice. Finally, normatively there are the administrative,
political, economic, and social (especially religious) meanisms of
control that can effectively control most spee through the forms of
pressure they exert.
A full review of the MENA’s legal and constitutional
environments regarding freedom of expression and artistic freedom
is beyond the scope of this apter. e dynamics in operation in
Egypt, Morocco, Tunisia, Turkey, and Iran offer a good sampling of
the broader dynamics in operation across the region. ey
demonstrate the wide gaps between rhetoric and loy ideals on the
one hand, and practice on the other, while also highlighting the
more recent trend for governments to use anti-terror and cyber-
crime legislations as a way to circumscribe rights at the legislative
and then judicial levels even as constitutions protect freedom of
expression at the broadest level.10
Case studies of the constitutional-legal context
148
If we begin with Egypt, Articles 47 and 48 of the Mubarak-era
constitution prohibited censorship of the press and guaranteed
“every individual … the right to express his opinion and to publicize
it verbally or in writing or by photography or by other means within
the limits of the law.” And that was and remains precisely the
problem, as some three dozen articles in numerous laws directly
imposed, and today even aer two major constitutional revisions
continue to impose, censorship, fines and/or imprisonment for
opinions, views or other content deemed to violate laws or
morality.11 What is more, the ‘state of emergency’ in place since the
assassination of President Sadat in 1981 allowed detention without
trial and without explicit reasons, allowing for even more leeway in
repressing dissident spee.
e situation continues today even though the January 2014
Constitution, like the 2012 dra shepherded by the Muslim
Brotherhood government of Muhammad Morsi, includes explicit
protection for freedom of the media, forbids prior censorship and
licensing or registration of the print media or journalists (cf. Article
19).12 e main focal point where the promises of free spee meet
the realities of censorship are at the level of key laws regarding
media, specifically Law 430/1955 of 1955, whi authorizes the
Ministry of Culture to censor audio and audiovisual works, prohibit
recording, filming, copying, or adapting audio or audiovisual works,
or—and this is crucial—screening, performing, or broadcasting them
publicly without a permit from the ministry. Other laws, su as the
Minister of Culture Decree 222/1976, the 1980 dra Law on
Protecting Values from Shameful Conduct and Prime Ministerial
Decree 162/1993, have added layers to the complex system through
whi censorship—and indeed, ‘a regime of prior censorship’—
functions and continue to provide the pretext for censorship and/or
detention of artists. And to these we can add the administrative,
political and social meanisms of control through whi religious
forces like al-Azhar, can become involved in censoring art, while
149
professional syndicates whi should support artists in fact act on
behalf of the government against them (in Egypt, Law 35/1978).13 In
addition, religious bodies like al-Azhar that are not legally mandated
to participate in censorship regimes are still routinely sent works of
art for approval or censor.14
Turning to Morocco the variety of experiences across the MENA
comes immediately into view. e 2011 revised Constitution did
incorporate human rights language including greater aention to
protecting free spee. Articles 10, 25 and 28 guarantee freedom of
opinion, thought, expression, and assembly and prohibited “any
form of prior censure.” e right to life, security of person, physical
and moral integrity, protection of privacy, and the presumption of
innocence are also supported. Yet ultimately, the Constitution can be
said to deal with rights and freedoms “in a contradictory way.”15
ese have not, however, been translated into action. As one
Moroccan artist explained,
We are too limited by our mode of expression because there isn’t the right to say what
you want in the media. ere are certain taboos whi one can’t aa… e King,
religion, the government quite simply. It’s not advisable to cite the names of ministers
in your words if you want to be on the radio, and not just in the music, in interviews as
well.16
For example, Article 29 of the press code still empowers the
communications minister to ban the import of publications that
“inflict harm to the Islamic religion, the monarical regime,
[Morocco’s] territorial integrity or the respect due the King or the
public order.” e government has used this provision frequently in
recent years to prohibit issues of foreign publications. Constitutional
proclamations guaranteeing free expression are worth lile until
lawmakers revise the penal code and press code provisions that the
government is using to restrict spee.17
If a primary focus of state censorship in Egypt surrounds
sexuality-related issues in films and music (especially videos), in
Morocco the primary arena of censorship has been the media itself.
150
Independent media sites on the internet are more of a focus of
censorship or aas than in Egypt. Numerous sites have been fined,
bloed or pressured to close, including Moroccan-run sites,
Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and other social media sites and
independent media platform like Mamfakine, Lacome.com the
most noticeable recent bloage in 2013 (its Arabic-language editor
was jailed for over a year awaiting trial).18 At the same time, the rise
to power of political forces like the Islamist ‘Party of Justice and
Development’ have coincided not only with an upti in censorship
of political issues but also of so-called moral and religious
sensibilities as well.19
And yet, despite su restrictions, Moroccans continue to express
their dissent in multiple media, from online publications to protests
on the streets, indicating that the regime’s alleged ‘path toward
reforming’ is long and winding.20 What both the case of Egypt and
Morocco demonstrate more generally is that music and other artistic
forms are inseparable from other forms of spee and their
repression. It is also worth noting that all the levels of censorship
that one sees in the MENA are present to various degrees in most
societies, including those of the West.
For its part, Tunisia has today what is no doubt the Arab world’s
—and in many ways one of the world’s—most progressive
constitutions. From the start of the post-Ben Ali era, the transitional
government proclaimed freedom of information and expression
‘foundational principle for the country’ (Freedom House 2015 report
on Tunisia) with significant protections for women’s rights, freedom
of belief, and various types of artistic and political expression. What
made that accomplishment possible was the lengthy and very public
debate over its content as well as the successful consensus of
progressive, liberal and Islamist forces represented by the document.
Specifically, Articles 31 through 33, 27 and 42 explicitly guarantee
‘freedom of opinion, thought, expression, information and
publication’ as well as unrestricted access to information, academic
151
freedom, the right to assembly and to culture (described as “the
freedom of creative expression”), all without the kind of ‘subject to
the law’ caveats that enable other governments to honor their
commitments only in the brea.
Nevertheless, the government has retreated on implementing
crucial laws surrounding issues like access to information, while
anti-terror laws passed in the wake of mass terrorist aas in 2014
and 2015 have threatened constitutional guarantees surrounding
freedom of expression, at least at the political level. At the same
time, the more conservative Ministry of Interior continued to
prosecute and imprison journalists and bloggers for criticizing the
military or government.21More specifically related to artistic
freedom, Tunisian Rapper Weld El 15 was imprisoned for insulting
the police with his song (clearly inspired by Morocco’s El Haqed ‘El
Boulisia Kleb’ (Cops Are Dogs)). And while the main Islamist
movement, Ennahda, has taken a fairly moderate position vis-a-vis
freedom of expression, more conservative Salafi forces have staged
major riots, threatened and aaed artists, and burned down
theaters accused of displaying or performing ‘insulting’ and ‘un-
Islamic art.’22
For mu of the 2000s, Turkey seemed to be on a path towards
unprecedented democratization, including greater freedom of
political expression (its cultural spheres have always been broadly
freer given the secular foundation of the Turkish state), as
guaranteed in Articles 26 through 28 and 33 through 34 of the
Constitution.23 But a series of laws, including Articles 301 and 314 of
the Turkish Penal Code, as well as a ‘draconian’ internet law, reveal
the ‘difference between what is said and what is done’ when it
comes to real freedom of expression and undermining constitutional
guarantees, especially when it comes to press freedoms.24 As of 2015
Turkey has one of the worst records for imprisoning journalists, and
the situation is quily becoming similarly worrying for musical
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artists who are in any way political or making ‘dissident comments,’
particularly surrounding the Kurdish question.
Iran is in a fundamentally worse position when it comes to
freedom of expression since its constitution expressly limits su
freedom by prohibiting anything that is detrimental to the
fundamental principles of Islam or the rights of the public (Articles
24, 175). is includes cultural and artistic/aesthetic production as
well, whose creation, performance and/or distribution is controlled
by the Ministry of Culture (cf. LeVine 2008, . 6). When the (now
former) President Ahmedinejad argues, “Is there art that is more
beautiful, more divine, and more eternal that the art of martyrdom?,”
it is clear that rappers and metalheads are not going to have an easy
time of it in the Islamic Republic.25 Nor will musicians working in
more traditional genres who allegedly allenge religion, as the
virtuoso setarist and singer Mohsen Namjoo discovered when he
was prosecuted, convicted and forced into exile for ridiculing the
r`an in 2009.
Yet even with su sentiments among the leadership, the situation
on the ground is more complicated than the texts of religiously
grounded laws would suggest. Despite official restrictions, millions
of Iranians have full access to the global cultural ecumene through
satellite dishes and access the internet. Indeed, as of the summer of
2015, the government was actually working with some of the
country’s most well known (and previously censored) rap artists to
help raise public support for its nuclear program.26
e popularity of heavy metal and hiphop among Iranian youth
during the last thirty years aests to Iran’s openness to global
culture, while the many accolades garnered by Iran’s locally rooted
film industry point to the ability of artists to allenge official limits
on cultural expression. And yet at any moment, the conservative
judiciary, clerical class and paramilitary units known as the basiji
(who act among other things as morality police, harassing young
people who publicly violate official norms), can harass, arrest and
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prosecute artists and fans (and impose travel bans on the former)
because of what they deem to be ‘un-Islamic’ art.27
It should be clear that any aempt to generalize about struggles
over freedom of cultural and artistic expression in the countries of
the MENA is bound to fail. e specific nature of ea government
and its constitutional and legal systems, the role and power of Islam
and Muslim religious forces in the legal and social structures of the
country, its relationship with the United States and Europe (whether
friend, ally, client or adversary), and the particularities of cultural
production, distribution and consumption, all played a role in
determining the dynamics involved.
In looking at cultural performance in the MENA in the context of
the Arab uprisings, Green Movement, and Gezi Park protests we
must delineate them into two broad categories. First are political
actions and events whi had very strong aesthetic components. e
protests in Tunis, Tahrir Square and many other locations epitomize
this phenomenon; they are ‘theater of immediacy,’ auratic and
transformative cultural (oen, but not necessarily artistic) creation
and performance for an intended audience that is not merely
emergent—that is, in the process of formation—but ‘emurgent’
(emergent + urgent); developing rapidly and in the context of intense
sociopolitical struggle that destabilizes and even reconfigures
previously dominant, congealed structures and networks of power
and identity.28
Second, beyond inherently aestheticized and affective protests,
artists themselves deliberately created extremely political art that
came to play an outsized role in the unfolding protests and uprisings.
Perhaps the most well known artistic symbols of the Arab uprisings
are two musical artists, Tunisian rapper El Général and Egyptian
singer Ramy Essam. But music was not the only artistic form central
to the Arab uprisings. Poets and photographers, playwrights and
graffiti artists, in their home countries and exile, all played a
prominent role. Not only that, the form and content of the art
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produced by Arab activist artists has continuously anged during
the last five years, as have conditions on the ground, the political
situations, and the goals, dreams and expectations of the artists.
e Arab world has seen an explosion of creative energy since the
self-immolation of Muhammad Bouazizi, in su varied areas as
Tunisian rap, Libyan literature, Moroccan experimental theater,
Yemeni protest music, and Egyptian graffiti.29 e artistic production
and the theater of protests are of course intimately related. What
made Tahrir su a powerful space was all the forms of art—music,
graffiti, posters, humor, song, photography, poetry—that occurred
within it.30 All of these forms have historically ‘thrived on conflict’
while at the same time pushed the boundaries of moral, political and
cultural freedom by giving vent to frustrations, especially of youth.
Studying these cultural performances is crucial to understanding the
transformation from traditional to a more progressive, innovative set
of cultural norms.31 e problem that we must explore is to what
extent this release meanism went from having revolutionary
power to erase fear, claim public space (especially streets and
squares) and set off protests and even uprisings to merely offering a
‘festivalisation of dissent,’ as Aomar Boum describes it, containing
and dissipating (or at least redirecting) anger and calls for social
justice to less threatening ends.32
Nigerian Afrobeat pioneer Fela Kuti famously declared that music
would be the weapon of the future. In late 2010 Tunisia it had
become the weapon of the present—not merely the soundtra of the
revolution that caught fire in the ashes of Muhammad Bouazizi, but
a motivating factor in bringing people into the streets and reshaping
their basic political subjectivity—a core process of any revolutionary
ange in a country’s social and political structures.33 Perhaps the
most famous—and certainly first—exemplar of the role of music in
the Arab uprisings is the song “Rais Lebled” (President of the
Country) by the then largely unknown rapper El Général. Arriving
in the Arab world in the mid-1990s, rap music quily established
155
itself as a major force for aesthetic expression and innovation among
Arab youth from Morocco to Iran.34 While most rappers steer clear
of politics (if not social issues) and some—from Morocco to Iran—are
actually supported by their governments, it is the region’s politically
grounded hiphop that most powerfully defines the genre for the
generation that has grown up with it.
With a brooding tempo and hiphop beat and minor key piano
melody, the grim mood of “Rais Lebled” sets up El Général’s at turns
plaintive and excoriating missive to then President Ben Ali that
declares: “Mr. President, you told me to speak without fear/I spoke
here but I knew that my end would be palms [i.e. slaps and beatings]
… How long [must] the Tunisian live in illusions?”35 It is hard to
overstate the power of “Raid Lebled,” not least because su words
could in fact get a person killed, or at least imprisoned and tortured
for a very long time. But in speaking about overcoming fear, El
Général captured the essence of the Arab uprisings: the loss of fear
of a generation.
ere are dozens of revolutionary hiphop songs in the ‘Arab
Spring canon.’ Most every country from Morocco to Bahrain
produced at least one song that helped unite and motivate people,
reflecting their pains and dreams, and bringing them out onto the
streets. Whether Arabian Knightz’s “Rebel” (Egypt), Ibn abit’s
“Ben Ghazi” (Libya), L’7a9ed’s “Klab ad-Dawla” (Dogs of the State),
or the anonymous Syrian song “Bayan raqam wahid” (Statement
Number One), hiphop was truly at the heart of the soundtra to the
protests, demonstrating a courage and forthrightness that began
with the seminal Palestinian-Israeli rap group DAM, whose song
“Min irhabi?” (Who’s the Terrorist?) was one of the most powerful
accusations ever put to music against the Israeli occupation.36
Perhaps the most politically engaged rapper in the Arab world
and broader Middle East today is Morocco’s El Haqed (a.k.a. L7a9ed;
‘the Enraged One’), who represents the ubiquitous power of hiphop
as the world’s most politicized musical form today.37 Mouad
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Belghouat (his legal name) came onto the Moroccan scene in the late
summer of 2011, as a February 20 activist aer the protests had
reaed their apex and were already fading in the wake of passage of
a Constitutional referendum put forward by King Muhammad. His
stage name can be translated as either the enraged, the ‘spiteful’ or
the indignant.
From the start Moroccan rap has been implicitly political, and
became more so in the last decade. L7a9ed came to the authorities
aention by September 2011, when he was first arrested aer an
altercation with a member of the Royalist youth. As with most
rappers, L7a9ed’s prison stint only increased his street credibility,
especially among Morocco’s poor and disenfranised young people,
from whose midst he’d risen in the slum of Oukaa, in the outskirts
of Casablanca. Indeed, as he rose to fame L7a9ed’s depictions of the
worst aracteristics of young Moroccans’ lives earned him the
sobriquet the ‘Gavroe of the Moroccan revolution’—Gavroe was
a minor but important aracter in Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.38
He has since spent two more stints in jail, but refuses to ba down
from his political stances.
One might imagine the situation would be beer in newly
democratic Tunisia. However, even there rappers are harassed by the
security forces, and one, Weld El 15, actually served time in jail for a
song similarly excoriating police brutality. e situation remains
allenging for rappers in Egypt as well, while in Iran the
government has adopted a more sizophrenic approa towards
hiphop—continuing to harass some artists even as it convinced one
of the country’s most well-known underground rappers to do a
video supporting their nuclear power program.
While hiphop gets most of the aention, the roots of the youth
music scenes in the Arab and larger Muslim worlds lie as mu if
not more in heavy metal and ro. e original musical subcultures-
turned-countercultures in the Arab world are the extreme metal
scenes of the region, whi were already threatening enough to
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laun ‘Satanic metal scares’ from Morocco to Iran during the late
1990s and early 2000s.39 ese foreign-born music scenes were
important because they served as incubators for marginalized youth
to express themselves and create relationships and solidarities. Just
as importantly, they impacted the spread of do-it-yourself skills in
distributing their music and message, particularly via the burgeoning
internet and social media. is would prove crucial for the
revolutions that would later erupt.40
One direct musical heir to the Arab metal scenes is Ramy Essam,
the ‘singer of the Egyptian revolution’ whose song “Irhal” is
considered along with “Rais Lebled” the most important tune in the
revolutionary Arab canon and one of the most influential songs of
this century. Like Mathlouthi, Essam started off as a metalhead and
fan of su groups as Slipknot, Korn and System of a Down, an edge
he clearly brought to the sound of “Irhal.” No artist beer symbolizes
the anging—and in many ways, waning—fortunes of political
music in the Arab world than he does. It is difficult to overstate
Essam’s impact on the protests in Tahrir Square’s uprising. Arriving
with nothing but an old acoustic guitar and a sleeping bag on
January 31, 2011, within twenty-four hours he had absorbed the
words, and as important, the rhythms of the protesters’ ants in
Tahrir, and composed “Irhal!” (Leave!), the song that quily became
the anthem not just of the Egyptian Revolution, but of the Arab
uprisings from Morocco to Bahrain.
Whereas “Rais Lebled” was never performed live during the
Tunisian Revolution by El Général, “Irhal” emerged out of hours of
strumming along to the ants of the protesters in Tahrir Square. By
the time that Mubarak was forced from power Essam had performed
it literally hundreds of times for hundreds of thousands of people
(and as many YouTube views from a grainy video shot of the
audience at one of his first performances of it), ea time gathering
more crowds until its popularity was su that the majority of the
crowd knew the words. While he had become the ‘voice’ of the
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Revolution in the two years aer Mubarak’s ouster—“My job is to
take the essence of what people are feeling and reflect it ba to
them,” he explains (LeVine, interview 2011)—Essam was in fact
increasingly persecuted both under Morsi’s rule and particularly
aer the military coup of 2013. His situation became so precarious
that he could no longer perform, while his music was banned from
the airwaves. In October 2014 he le Egypt for a two year musical
residency in Sweden. He fears for his safety if he is forced to return
home.
However powerful the music and political presence of
revolutionary musical artists like L7a9ed and Essam, without a
constant physical presence in and control over space that power will
diminish over time. L7a9ed and Essam, one in professional exile
inside his country and the other physically removed from his
homeland, can continue to make videos that are accessible at home
and travel abroad spreading the stories of their struggles. But while
su activities keep the revolutionary embers glowing, their inability
to perform locally is symptomatic of these movements’ current
inability to allenge the balance of power on the ground in
Morocco or Egypt.
ere is no denying the roots of hiphop in the poetic form, but
poetry itself was at the heart of the revolutions; a natural
development given the prominent role of poetry in Arab and Islamic
traditions. As the poet Mazen Maarouf points out, “We should not be
surprised that in these revolutions ordinary Arabs are capable of
su poetry. In sools across the Arab world, poetry precedes other
forms of art.”41 Indeed, the Yemeni poet Ibtisam Mutawakkil captures
the essence of poetry’s power in the Arab world (and similarly in
Iran, whi has an equally ri poetic tradition), when he argues,
Yemeni society is still a society audibly. For this reason, the spirited rhythm and phrases
move the people … In the history of the Arab revolutions poets have always been at the
forefront of awareness led the revolutionary action, and this action is still present in
Yemen to the day since the revolutions of 1962 and 1963.42
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Poetry was in fact central to the Arab revolutions from the start. e
most famous slogan of the revolutions, anted in Tunisia, Egypt,
Yemen, Libya, Bahrain, Syria, and beyond, is an adaptation of the
poem “Izza ash-sha`b yowman arada al-haya” (“If the People One
Day Will to Live”), wrien in 1933 by the Tunisian poet Abou el-
Kasem Chebbi (1909–34), whi aer the revolution became
incorporated as the closing lines of Tunisia’s national anthem.43
Moreover, poetry provided the rhythm of the Arab protests, both
visually and aurally. e speed and flow of a mar in Tahrir, down
Bourguiba Boulevard, or around Manama’s Pearl roundabout would
be determined by the poetry being anted. Banners featured poetic
slogans dozens of meters long at times. Songs, whether “Rais Lebled”
or “Irhal” were nothing if not extremely poetic. As the Moroccan
poet Mohammed al-Ash`ari explained of the Arab Spring’s poetry,
“Poets have the capabilities to enable them to escort civilian
movements and educate consciences in the midst of significant
anges in today’s world.” In particular, they help people want life—
perhaps the most important function of any art form, “But even the
poetry of the revolutions and beyond is weak and modest when
compared with what happened in the street or in the fields or the
actions of the rebels,” Egyptian poet Girgis Shukri explains.44
As with hiphop, in Arab revolutionary poetry, Palestine stands
above most other Arab countries, as the unending symbol of all that
has been lost to Arab culture as the result of foreign and internal
imbalances and distortions of power, ideology and identity. One of
the “songs of the revolution” (ughniyat al-thawrah), “Raji’ libladi”
(Returning to my country), is directly influenced by the Palestinian
narrative of return. Mahmoud Darwish’s poetry was particularly
crucial to the broader Arab Spring project—one writer called him
“the conscience of the Arab revolutions,” just as Palestine itself
remained symbolically central.45
Not surprisingly, the historical and political power of Arab(ic)
poetry increases as it is incorporated into other art forms, perhaps
160
none more so than theater. Su is the affective power of theater as it
has been experienced across the region that one of Egypt’s foremost
poets, Girgis Shukri, has declared that “the language of drama and of
theater is mu stronger than that of poetry or wrien texts” alone.46
e Arab/Muslim world has centuries-old theater traditions. Most
countries’ theater scenes became highly ideological in the wake of
the Nasser-era revolutions and coups, but they also developed strong
traditions of worker’s and avant-garde theater. Cairo, for example,
has been home to the International Festival of Experimental eater
since 1988;47 Palestine has been home to companies su as the Jenin
Freedom eater and El Hakawati that have been (and remain) at
the forefront of cultural resistance against Occupation and
oppressive regimes across the region. And countries where one
might not expect a strong theatrical tradition, su as Yemen, in fact
boast a powerful history going ba a century in whi foreign
influences su as Shakespeare and Shaw have blended with
extremely sophisticated and critical poetic traditions among the
tribal heartlands to create one of the region’s best kept artistic
secrets.48 In Morocco, experimental theater influenced by eater of
the Oppressed or less confrontational styles su as “l`khbar fi
masrah” (“the news through theater”) has both encouraged and
diffused potentially explosive social and political tensions.49
Dramatists su as Egypt’s Sondos Shabayek and Laila Soliman or
Tunisian Loi Aour, have used both classical themes and
teniques (su as storytelling) and references to and direct
engagements with the immediate, pre-revolutionary past, to great
affect with local and (increasingly) international audiences.50 At the
same time, some of the most relevant pre-Arab Spring plays, su as
Fadhel Jaibi’s Amnesia-Yahia Yaish (whi dealt with the fall of a
despotic Tunisian minister of state), have received even more
enthusiastic reactions from crowds aer the revolutions, when its
implications could be appreciated more openly.51 e broader
question that remains for theater makers, like other artists across the
161
region, is whether their art can help foster “a radically new mindset
and a new thought until all this is reflected on the culture and art in
general.”52
Red lines continue to exist, even in the most democratic of Arab
countries. Tunisian actors have been arged with ‘public indecency’
and ‘indecent acts,’ and physically aaed by audience members, as
happened to members of the street theater company, Fanni Raghman
Anni (in Tunisian dialect, “My Art In Spite of Myself”) in response
to the perception that actors were wearing too lile clothing during
a performance.
e Arab uprisings might have been televised (as Gil Sco-Heron
predicted they would not be) and disseminated via many other
communications media. But they were even more so drawn—by
cartoonists, caricaturists, everyday people, and particularly graffiti
artists. It was impossible to aend a protest anywhere, from Rabat to
Manama, without being inundated with the artwork of everyone
from small ildren to major artists of the day. In fact, the most far-
reaing and bloody revolution of the region, Syria, was sparked by
the arrest and torture of fieen ildren for painting anti-
government graffiti on the wall of their sool.
Arab graffiti is directly inspired by 1,400 years of Arabic and
r`anic calligraphic traditions. Indeed, in a very profound sense,
r`anic calligraphy and the newest street art are “daughters of the
same parents.”53 But however deeply rooted, graffiti cannot be
appreciated outside of the broader context of cartoons and other
forms of graphic images, whether created by professionals and
published in newspapers or other media, or drawn by ordinary
people and brought to protests. Finally, graffiti is also deeply related
to paintings, videos, sculptures and installations that have been
exhibited in galleries, museums, and revolutionary spaces.
In the revolutionary era, Palestine, Egypt and Bahrain are home to
the most developed, organized and belligerent graffiti movement in
the region.54 Equally important, Yemen, understood mostly in the
162
West as a bastion of feudalism and extremism, quily saw the
emergence of one of the most sophisticated public graffiti scenes in
the region that epitomized the unprecedented and almost entirely
non-violent grass-roots protests in the country. Verbal messages of
the graffiti have been complex and multifarious; from simple
repetition of revolutionary slogans—Dégage!, Irhal!, Yasqut hukma-l
‘askar!—to the ubiquitous turns at humor (“Game Over!” “Doctor,
it’s your turn”—i.e. one-time optometrist Bashar al-Assad will see
himself out of power soon), and references to Facebook, Google and
Twier. Images of all types have “play[ed] a central part in processes
of political struggle” by conveying mediated and mediating political
messages and ideologies.55 More than just art, su visual messages
were the “war paint” of the revolutions and a weapon in the hands
of civil resistance against authoritarian regimes.56 Aesthetic quality
alone was not the most important reason for the impact of visual
arts in the uprisings and revolutions. Even the simplest drawings—
like those of Daraa’s sool kids—can spark a civil war.
Yet it is also clear that graffiti remains the signal visual icon of the
Arab uprisings (more so than in Iran or Turkey, for example),
distinguished both by its power as well as its vulnerability and
ephemerality. Its ability to move so many people is precisely why
governments across the region—and indeed, globally—consider it
vandalism and sabotage.57 As the Egyptian artist Ganzeer explains,
graffiti has the power to “plant a flag” in the public sphere in a
manner that directly undermines the state’s sense of public security.
It does so precisely because its presence (especially when prolonged)
clearly marks a location’s transformation into a revolutionary space,
or at least one outside of real government control. Even more, as the
artist Mohsen Al-Ateeqi points out, graffiti helps “encircle the
hegemony” of regimes that have spent decades ‘containing’ their
societies by its offering of highly visible counter-hegemonic
meanisms for producing public opinion—beer, of publicness and
being public. Graffiti marks space, at least momentarily, as a
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revolutionary place, enabling the public to encounter messages and
motivations that have been censored in more ‘legitimate’ media and
in so doing becomes “in itself a form of public power to resist the
ruling power.”58
Whatever the historical importance of wrien graffiti, images
have always played crucial components of Arab graffiti. In the
uprisings era, su imagery oen has portrayed or represented
people or events occurring on the ground. is has included
everything from murals featuring the faces of martyred protesters to,
in one well-known case, a stencil of a nude self-portrait by the
young Egyptian photographer Aliaa Magdy Elmahdy—an elaborate
defense of her (in)famous photo that contextualizing it vis-a-vis
rampant assaults on women by regime forces. Also frequent are
more elaborate murals of revolutionary heroes, hated regime figures,
or various revolutionary scenes. ese were composed in a variety of
styles, from stenciled images of ‘anarist pharaohs’ (the image a
pharaoh in the guise of Guy Fawkes with an iconic headdress) to
mixed-media transdisciplinary works by artists su as Hanaa El
Dagham and highly stylized ‘neo-pharaonic’ tableaus—epitomized
by the work of the Luxor-based fine artist Alaa Awad, that bring the
far past and the immediate present into intense dialog.59 In Tunisia
and Egypt cartoon figures also became—and remain—central
symbols of political graffiti, as aracters like Nadia Khiari’s Willis
the Cat in Tunis, and Sad Panda in Cairo have rendered some of the
most powerful—and in Sad Panda’s case, almost always mute—
judgments on the oppressiveness and even absurdity of the ancient
and post-revolutionary regimes.60
If graffiti is the most celebrated form of the revolutionary era’s
visual art, it was by no means the only one or isolated from other
forms. Both visually and in terms of satirical wit, cartoons have
played a crucial role, not just in the Arab uprisings, but for a century
of Arab journalism and media. Arab(ic) graffiti would be as
impossible to imagine without the history and presence of Arab
164
cartoons as it would be without Arabic calligraphy. Indeed, the
importance of cartoons or cartoon-inspired artwork, su as Willis
the Cat and Sad Panda, in the graffiti of the uprisings points to the
difficulty of fixing boundaries between these media.
Cartoons in the Arab world, as they are elsewhere, are ‘vivid
primary sources’ for understanding larger events and the broader
public mood.61 As cartoons have migrated from newspapers and
books to social media and the internet their subjects have
increasingly focused on regional and international subjects, while
leaving aside domestic issues that could lead to censorship or worse.
Exceptions to this rule include Palestine and Lebanon, both of whi
retained relatively more freedom of expression for artists compared
with other Arab countries (although Palestinians have been jailed
and even killed by Israel for their art).62 But while the majority of
cartoonists were staying clear of local politics in the years leading up
to 2010, some (Egyptian cartoonist Andeel, for example) have been
consistently political since the early 2000s, aaing Mubarak then
and Sisi now with the same la of concern for the consequences.63
Lastly, it is Egypt that has been home to the groups that have
most boldly and effectively blended visual art and activism. Two
media collectives in particular have played an important role in this
process since 2011, the Mosireen collective and Kazeboon (liars).
Together they epitomize how the internet has influenced art’s
impact. Mosireen (a combination of the words ‘Egypt’ and
‘determined’ in Arabic) is a Cairo-based media collective created
during the 18 days of the January 25 revolution. Its goal has been to
circulate (via the internet or public showings) citizen-produced art—
in particular short films based on documentary footage of events
that contradict government claims about who was responsible for
acts of violence against citizens. When effective these films
constitute politically inspired art possessing the power to ‘wrong-
foot censorship and empower the voice of a street-level perspective.’
Mosireen’s focus has been auned particularly to ariving the
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visual record of the revolution and showing revolutionary inspired
films to the public, oen on the street in order to rea the most
people.
e Kazeboon, or ‘liars’ campaign, was founded by some of the
same people as Mosireen in December 2011 when military police
aaed protesters at a sit-in at the Cabinet headquarters. e name
pertains to the penant for the military (at that time, SCAF, the
Supreme Council of the Armed Forces) to lie when accused of using
violence against protesters. is time, protesters had recorded video
of the aa, whi activists used to produce a video, uploaded onto
YouTube, that directly allenged the lie. So successful was this
campaign, and so ubiquitous was the violence and the lies about it
by the military and then the Morsi government, that the group’s
modus operandi became using video to confront the lies of the
regime (the Muslim Brotherhood would adopt a similar strategy
during the Raba al-`Adawiyya sit-in, but with far less success). Like
Mosireen, Kazeboon would sometimes hold events in public at
revolutionary-friendly locations (su as the Sawi Culture Wheel in
Zamalek, whi had long sponsored edgy and even subversive
cultural events and political meetings). But its primary means of
communication has been the internet, whi has made it mu
harder for the government to censor.
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Conclusion: art and/as religion in the Arab
Spring
Art, like religion, encourages liminal, transformative experiences.
And like religion, that makes artistic production both useful and
dangerous to those in power (including those in religious power,
who can simultaneously use art for their own ends while
condemning some artists for transgressing religious norms). It is for
this reason that this apter has analyzed the importance of cultural
rights as a way to protect art’s potentially powerful role. And it is
why art has been a particularly key site for the impulses that both
led to the Arab uprisings and why governments, in repressing those
uprisings, have also sought to repress art that identified with that
transformative movement. In the wake of the eruption of the
protests and uprisings, and in the midst of seeming transformations
towards democracy, Egyptian artists have been sued, Moroccan and
even Tunisian musicians, graffiti artists, and actors have faced
harassment and arrest, for ‘moral’ as well as political ‘crimes.’ In
Syria throats have been slit, tongues cut out and hands cut off
(depending on the offending artist’s specific mode of work). Perhaps
Tunisian artist Jalila Baccar best captured the dynamic at work when
she explained a year aer Ben Ali’s ouster: “During Bourguiba and
Ben Ali’s regimes, political content was censored from any artworks.
During the current regime, political content is still forbidden, only
under the guise of ethics and religion.”
Ultimately, while it is not difficult to spot ‘religious’ versus
‘secular’ art in the post-uprisings Arab world, the main distinction
between various forms of artistic production is not centered on
religion, ethics or morality. It is centered around the contentious
question of whether the region and individual countries are still
167
living in revolutionary or normal time, whether artists should and
can continue to motivate citizens into the streets to fight for a
wholesale ange in their societies, or should either support the
status quo or ignore politics all together. It is undeniable that the
Arab uprisings and revolutions of the last five years have produced
some of the most politically as well as aesthetically powerful and
innovative art the world has seen in generations. e question that
remains is whether the aura of revolution can continue to inspire
artists and ordinary people to continue the struggle for ‘bread,
freedom, and social justice’ that half a decade ago helped laun the
Arab Spring, and what role su struggles will play in the broader
and longer term struggle for human rights across the region.
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Notes
1 Hafid Gafaiti, “Between God and the President: Literature and Censorship in North
Africa,” Diacritics vol. 27, no. 2 (1997): 59–84.
2 Farida Shaheed, UNO-Report on Culture Rights (Online: United Nations, 2013).
3 For the purposes of this apter, I define censorship as a regulatory and legal process of
regulating artistic production in order to ensure that art of all types adheres to
applicable legislation, statutory regulations, the political imperatives and ideological
narrative of the state and/or ostensibly shared community mores.
4 Jonas Oerbe, “Baling over the public sphere: Islamic reactions to the music of
today,” Contemporary Islam vol. 2, no. 3 (November 1, 2008): 211–228.
5 Mark LeVine, Why They Don’t Hate Us: Lifting the Veil on the Axis of Evil, Oxford, UK:
Oneworld Publications, 2005.
6 LeVine, Why They Don’t Hate Us, s. 1, 3, 5; OHCHR, Universal Declaration of Human
Rights–In Six Cross-Cutting Themes, (n.p.: Office of the High Commissioner for Human
Rights, 2015); Janusz Symonides, “Cultural Rights: a Neglected Category of Human
Rights,” International Social Science Journal vol. 50, no. 158 (December 1, 1998): 559–
572; Elizabeth Willmo-Harrop, “e Universal Declaration’s Bias Towards Western
Democracies,” Liberty and Humanity 2003.
7 Henrik Urdal, “A Clash of Generations? Youth Bulges and Political Violence,”
International Studies Quarterly vol. 50, no. 3 (September 2006): 607–629; Middle East
Youth (In Brief: Brookings Institute, n.d.); M. Chloe Mulderig, “An Uncertain Future:
Youth Frustration and the Arab Spring,” The Pardee Papers 2013; NATO Parliamentary,
The Implications of the Youth Bulge in Middle East and North Africa Populations,
(NATO, 2011).
8 Mark LeVine, Heavy Metal Islam: Rock, Resistance and the Struggle for the Soul of Islam
(New York: Random House, 2008).
169
9 Muhammad Deeb, Wasilati Fi Ihtijaj Hia Al-Aghani Wa-L-Sha`r’ (My Means of Protest
Are Music and Poetry), 2011; Tejumola Olaniyan, Arrest the Music!: Fela and His Rebel
Art and Politics (African Expressive Cultures), 1st ed. (United States: Indiana University
Press, 2004), 2–3.
10 Ma Duffy, “Arab Media Regulations: Identifying Restraints on Freedom of the Press in
the Laws of Six Arabian Peninsula Countries,” Berkeley Journal of Middle Eastern and
Islamic Law vol. 6, no. 2 (2014): 1–31.
11 ANHRI, Articles That Restrict the Freedom of Expression in the Egyptian Laws, (e
Arabic Network for Human Rights Information, 2012); CIHRS, Freedom of Expression in
Egypt and Tunisia, (Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies, n.d.).
12 And still to this day sometimes censorship can be vague or unexplained to artists, su
as the Egyptian singer Ali El-Haggar ready to issue a new album in the Gulf during the
next few days, aer it refused to permit it negotiable Egyptian censorship in Egypt. e
album features 14 songs but does not address political affairs.
13 United Nations. UN Report on the Right to Artistic Expression and Creation, (United
Nations, 2013); Omar El Adl, “Musicians Syndicate Cradown Disproportionately
Affects Underground Music,” Daily News Egypt, 2012; Moroccan musician and journalist
Reda Allali, interviewed by author Mar 2014; Ahmed Ezzaq, Sally al-Haqq, and
Hossam Fazulla, “Censors of Creativity,” Association for Freedom of Thought and
Expression 2014,: 1–20; Basseem Sabry, “Egypt Sends Movie Ba to Censorship Board
for Review,” Al Monitor, 2014.
14 In particular, advocating drug use or sex, insulting Abrahamic religions, the positive
depictions of crime, improper depiction of funerals, or any depiction or use of the
Prophet’s voice, are prohibited. It also prohibits any art that allegedly insults the
president or armed forces or other state institutions, incites to the overthrow of the
Egyptian government or promotes sools of thought that seek to ange basic
principles of the constitution or the social order by force or terrorism.
15 In Article 28, for example, immediately aer stipulating the guarantee of freedom of the
press, there is a caveat that stipulates su freedom is circumscribed by “the sole limits
expressly provided by the law” Samia Errazzouki, “Spin Cycle: Morocco’s Forgoen
Reform Movement,” Sada Carnegie Endowment, 2012.
170
16 Pascal de Gend, “Le Rap Au Maroc, Malgré La Censure,” La Libre, 2012.
17 “Morocco: Weeklies Censored for Depicting God, the Prophet Muhammad,” Human
Rights Watch, 2010.
18 “Au Maroc, La Censure Est Royale,” Liberation, 2009. Rayna St, “Morocco Censors the
Web: Collateral Damage Allowed,” Global Voices Online, 2013; “Morocco: Pioneer of
Independent Press Silenced amid Censorship Worries,” Los Angeles Times, 2010.
19 Karim Boukhari, “Courage, on Censure!,” Telquel, 2012.
20 “Freedom of the Press,” Freedom House, 2012; “Hiwar Ma`a Al-Fanan Ma`a Rafa`il Al-
Qantara: Al-Mashhad Al-Musiqi Fi-L-Qahira Bayna Al-Raqaba Wa-L-Intilaq
(‘Conversations with Artists by Rafael Al-Qantara: e Music Scene in Cairo between
Censorship and Taking Off’),” al-Qantara, 2007.
21 “Tunisia: Freedom of Expression Must Be Protected in the Fight against Terrorism,”
Article 19, 2014; “Blasphemy, Freedom of Expression, and Tunisia’s Transition to
Democracy,” Human Rights First, 2015.
22 Dorra Medgdie Meziou, “Tunisie–Retour de Vacances Pour Les Salafistes,”
Businessnews.com, 2012; Tarek Amara and Lin Noueihed, “Tunisian Salafi Islamists Riot
over ‘Insulting’ Art,” Reuters, 2012.
23 “Freedom of the Press and Expression in Turkey,” Center for American Progress, 2013;
Suzy Hansen, “e Strongman,” The New Republic, 2012.
24 “Turkey: e Disconnect between What Is Said and What Is Done,” Freemuse, 2015;
“Music Video Under Criminal Investigation,” Freemuse, 2015; Raziye Akboc, “Turkey’s
Cradown on Freedom of Spee Intensifies,” The Telegraph, 2015.
25 “P24 Joins ARTICLE 19, CPJ, English PEN, Freedom House and PEN International in
Submiing Universal Periodic Review of Turkey to the United Nations,” Platform 24,
2014; “Freedom of the Press—Turkey,” Freedom House, 2013.; “Journalists Concerned
about Freedom of Expression in Turkey,” Today’s Zaman, 2014; Riard Horowitz, “A
Detailed Analysis of Iran’s Constitution,” World Policy Blog, 2010.
26 Hanif Kashani, “Iranian Rapper Drops Bomb with pro-Nuke Video,” Al Monitor, 2015.
27 “Violations of Artistic Freedom of Expression in 2014,” Arts Freedom, 2015.
http://businessnews.com/
171
28 Mark Levine and Bryan Reynolds, “eater of Immediacy: Performance Activism and
Art in the Arab Uprisings,” in Islam and Popular Culture, ed. Karin van Nieuwekerk,
Mark Levine, and Martin Stokes (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2016).
29 Kamran Rosen, “5 Incredible Art Movements at Exploded Aer the Arab Spring,”
World Mic, 2013.
30 Diana al-Rifai, “Anatomy of a Revolution through Art,” alJazeera, 2015; Cathrin Saer,
“Syrian Refugees: Making Sense of War through Art,” Der Spiegel, 2013.
31 Hawas Mahmoud, “Al-Rabi`a Al-Arabiya Wa Al-aqafa Al-Taqlidiya (e Arab Spring
and Traditional Culture),” Minhbar al-Huriya, 2012.
32 Kamran Rosen, “5 Incredible Art Movements at Exploded Aer the Arab Spring,”
World Mic, 2013.
33 Mark Levine, “eorizing Revolutionary Practice: Agendas for Resear on the Arab
Uprisings,” Middle East Critique 22, no. 3 (September 2, 2013): 191–212.
34 Mark LeVine, Heavy Metal Islam: Rock, Resistance, and the Struggle for the Soul of Islam
(New York: ree Rivers Press (CA), 2008), Chap. 1.
35 “El Général–Rais Lebled,” Revolutionary Arab Rap: The Index, August 30, 2011.
36 “Babylon and Beyond,” Los Angeles Times Blog, 2011; “La Mémoire Créative de La
Révolution Syrienne,” Creative Memory, creativememory.org.
37 e 7 and 9 in L7a9ed are Arabic at aracters representing the leers “ḥā” (ح) and
“qaf” (ق).
38 Solidarité Maroc, “Un Pouvoir Marocain Inquiet Mais i Ne Lâe Rien,” Solid Mar,
2012.
39 Cf. LeVine, Heavy Metal Islam.
40 LeVine, Heavy Metal Islam; interviews with Tunisian and Egyptian revolutionary
leaders, February 2011–June 2012, Tunis and Cairo.
41 Mazen Maarouf, “e Poetry of Revolution,” alJazeera, 2012.
42 Reem Najami, “Ma Huwwa Dawr Ash-Shi`r Fi--awrat Al-`Arabiyya? (What Is the
Role of Poetry in the Arab Revolutions?),” Qantara, 2012.
172
43 Cf. John Lundberg, “e Poetry of the Revolution,” Huffington Post, 2011.
44 Reem Najami, “Ma Huwwa Dawr Ash-Shi`r Fi--awrat Al-`Arabiyya? (What Is the
Role of Poetry in the Arab Revolutions?),” Qantara, 2012.
45 Amr Sa`d Eddin, “Shi`r Mahmoud Darwish Fi Wajdan Ath-awrat Al-`Arabiyya (e
Poetry of Mahmoud Darwish in the Conscience of the Arab Revolutions),” Majalat al-
dirasat al-falastiniyya 91 (2012): 52–68; Reem Abou-El-Fadl, “e Road to Jerusalem
through Tahrir Square: Anti-Zionism and Palestine in the 2011 Egyptian Revolution,”
Journal of Palestine Studies vol. 41 (2012): 6–26.
46 Reem Najami, “Ma Huwwa Dawr Ash-Shi`r Fi--awrat Al-`Arabiyya? (What Is the
Role of Poetry in the Arab Revolutions?),” Qantara, 2012.
47 “e Honor of the 18th of e Cairo International Festival for Experimental eater,”
Egypt Ministry of Culture, 2006. Online.
48 Sa`id Aulaqi, Aaman Min Al-Masrah Fi Al-Yaman (Seventy Years of Theatre in Yemen)
(Aden: Warizat ath-thaqafa wa-l siyaha, 1983); Katherine Hénnessey, “e Ri History
of eater in Yemen,” La voix du Yémen, 2013.
49 Kamran Rosen, “5 Incredible Art Movements at Exploded Aer the Arab Spring,”
World Mic, 2013.
50 Cleo Jay, “Staging the Transition in North Africa: eatre As a Tool of Empowerment,”
Ibraaz 004 (2012).
51 Ibid.
52 Moncef Karimi, “al-Mahrajan ad-dawli lil-masrah an-nisa`i” (e International Festival
of Women’s eater), undated article at lemaghreb.tn. Available at
www.startimes.com/f.aspx?t=35144621, accessed July 10, 2015.
53 Dave Stelfox, “Arabic Graffiti: Dances with Walls,” The National, July 15, 2011, available
at www.thenational.ae/news/world/middle-east/arabic-graffiti-dances-with-walls,
accessed December 20, 2015.
54 Charloe Sriwer, “Graffiti Arts and the Arab Spring,” in Routledge Handbook of the
Arab Spring, ed. Larbi Sadiki (London: Routledge, 2014), 376–391; Judran 14 Fibriar:
Ghrafiti Thawrat Al-Bahrain (The Walls of 14 February: Revolutionary Graffiti in
Bahrain) (Dhaka: Awal Centre, 2013).
173
55 Lina Khatib, Image Politics in the Middle East: The Role of the Visual in Political
Struggle, London: IB Tauris, 2012.
56 Waleed Rashed, “Egypt’s Murals Are More an Just Art, ey Are a Form of
Revolution,” Smithsonian Magazine, May 2013. Available at
www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/egypts-murals-are-more-than-just-art-they-are-
a-form-of-revolution-36377865/#DvuzGHgjTZ5455bv.99, accessed July 10, 2015; amer
Mekki, “Fann graffiti fi Tunis” (Graffiti Art in Tunis), Qantara.de, September 2, 2012.
Available at hps://ar.qantara.de/content/fnw-ljrfyty-fy-twns-ljrfyty-fy-twnsslh-fy-yd-
lmqwm-lmdny, accessed July 10, 2015.
57 Noor Ahmed Said, “al-Graffiti al-`Arabi” (Arab Graffiti), Watny News, January 5, 2015.
Available at hp://watny-news.com/new_top/12759, accessed August 2, 2015.
58 Nicola Tama, “Ar-rassam `ala-l-judran: risa`il ash-shabab bi-lubnan” (Drawings on
Walls: Messages of the Youth in Lebanon), alJazeera, May 17, 2012. Available at
www.aljazeera.net/news/cultureandart/2012/5/17/-الرسم-على-الجدران-رسائل-الشباب
.accessed July 29, 2015 ,بلبنان
59 Sherif Boraie, ed., Wall Talk: Graffiti of the Egyptian Revolution, Cairo: Zeituna Press,
2012; Mia Gröndahl, Revolution Graffiti: Street Art of the New Egypt, Cairo: AUC Press,
2013.
60 Fatma Ibrahim and oraia Abou Bakr, “e Melanoly of Sad Panda,” Daily New
Egypt, 2013.
61 Gisele El Khoury, “Understanding Politics in the Arab World through Naji al-Ali’s
Cartoons,” Muah.org, October 16, 2003. Available at hp://muah.org/understanding-
politics-in-the-arab-world-through-naji-al-alis-cartoons/#.VcEZ42CiKBI, accessed
August 1, 2015.
62 Andreas Qassim, Arab Political Cartoons: The 2006 Lebanon War, MA esis presented
at Lund University, 2007. Available at
hp://andreasqassim.com/download/MA_thesis , accessed July 25, 2015.
63 Barney ompson, “Why Cartoons and Comics are Flourishing in the Middle East,”
Financial Times, July 25, 2015. Available at www..com/cms/s/0/26a80334-31fa-11e5-
91ac-a5e17d9b4cff.html, accessed August 2, 2015.
174
Selected Bibliography
Boraie, Sherif, ed., Wall Talk: Graffiti of the Egyptian Revolution,
Cairo: Zeituna Press, 2012.
El Khoury, Gisele. “Understanding Politics in the Arab World
through Naji al-Ali’s Cartoons,” in Muftah.org, October 16, 2003.
Available at hp://muah.org/understanding-politics-in-the-
arab-world-through-naji-al-alis-cartoons/#.VcEZ42CiKBI,
accessed August 1, 2015.
Gröndahl, Mia. Revolution Graffiti: Street Art of the New Egypt,
Cairo: AUC Press, 2013.
Khatib, Lina. Image Politics in the Middle East: The Role of the Visual
in Political Struggle, London: IB Tauris, 2012.
Mekki, amer. “Fann graffiti fi Tunis” (Graffiti Art in Tunis), in
Qantara.de, September 2, 2012. Available at
hps://ar.qantara.de/content/fnw-ljrfyty-fy-twns-ljrfyty-fy-
twnsslh-fy-yd-lmqwm-lmdny, accessed July 10, 2015.
Nippard, Cinnamon. “al-Ghrafiti fi-l-`alam al-`arabi” (Graffiti in the
Arab World), in Qantara.de, June 17, 2011. Available at
hps://ar.qantara.de/content/lgrfyty-fy-llm-lrby-lgrfyty-lrby-
khtwt-rby-bhbr-lmtlb-lsysy, accessed June 30, 2015.
Rashed, Waleed. “Egypt’s Murals Are More an Just Art, ey Are
a Form of Revolution,” in Smithsonian Magazine, May 2013.
Available at www.smithsonianmag.com/arts-culture/egypts-
murals-are-more-than-just-art-they-are-a-form-of-revolution-
36377865/#DvuzGHgjTZ5455bv.99, accessed July 10, 2015.
Said, Noor Ahmed. “al-Graffiti al-`Arabi” (Arab Graffiti), Watny
News, January 5, 2015. Available at hp://watny-
news.com/new_top/12759, accessed August 2, 2015.
175
Tama, Nicola. “Ar-rassam `ala-l-judran: risa`il ash-shabab bi-
lubnan” (Drawings on Walls: Messages of the Youth in Lebanon),
alJazeera, May 17, 2012. Available at
www.aljazeera.net/news/cultureandart/2012/5/17/-الرسم-على
.accessed July 29, 2015 ,الجدران-رسائل-الشباب-بلبنان
ompson, Barney. “Why Cartoons and Comics are Flourishing in
the Middle East” in Financial Times, July 25, 2015. Available at
www..com/cms/s/0/26a80334-31fa-11e5-91ac-a5e17d9b4cff.html,
accessed August 2, 2015.
176
Section III
A political framework: intersecting
human rights and governance crises
in the Middle East and North Africa
177
5
Genocide in the contemporary
Middle East
A historical and comparative regional
perspective
Martin Shaw
178
Introduction
e targeted atrocities of the Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant
aer its emergence in 20141 drew widespread accusations of
genocide. Adama Dieng, Special Advisor of the United Nations
Secretary-General on the Prevention of Genocide, and Jennifer
Welsh, Special Advisor on the Responsibility to Protect, issued a
statement on the situation in Iraq in whi they pointed to a ‘risk of
genocide.’2 e same month an ‘Open Leer from Concerned
Genocide Solars Regarding the Situation in Syria and Iraq’ also
warned of genocide commied by Islamic State and the Al-Nusra
Front.3 Although both statements apparently concerned the
situations in Iraq and Syria generally, accusations of genocide were
directed only at Islamists. However, in Iraq the army and Shi`ite
militia were also accused of grave atrocities against particular
groups of civilians, and in Syria the Assad regime was then
responsible for far more targeted killings of civilians. Yet the
advisors’ and solars’ reminders to states of the ‘responsibility to
protect’ populations from Islamic State, including in the laer case
an explicit call for ‘military force’, by implication endorsed the move
towards U.S.-led bombing in conjunction with the Iranian-baed
ground counter-offensives of the Iraqi and Syrian governments.
ese offensives predictably entailed more atrocities on their parts,
but with Islamists labelled the genocidal actors, scrutiny of others’
acts within the scope of genocide was bloed.
is selectivity, both in applying the term ‘genocide’ and in
demanding intervention to protect civilians, illustrates the difficulties
of the political uses of ‘genocide’ whi critics have noted in other
contexts.4 We might be tempted to conclude that ‘genocide’ is an
impossibly contested concept whi it would be beer to replace.5
179
Yet there is a considerable literature,6 building on Raphael Lemkin’s
original work (1944) as well as the United Nations’ Convention
(1948),7 whi has developed the idea as a coherent sociological
concept whi can be applied impartially across cases. Since violence
targeted to destroy particular population groups—the core of the
genocide idea in most definitions—has been a feature of both
historical and contemporary conflict in the Middle East, it is
appropriate to ask how far the idea can illuminate the extensive
violations of human rights whi have recurred in the region over
the last century and what kind of analytical explanation can be
proposed for the paerns of genocide whi we can identify.
ese are the questions of this apter. e author is a
theoretically-oriented historical sociologist and comparative solar
of genocide, rather than a specialist in the Middle East. I aim, using
secondary literature, first to examine how analyses of genocide have
been and could be made concerning Middle Eastern situations, and
second to consider the Middle Eastern paerns so identified in a
comparative perspective on genocide in world-regions during the
twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. I propose this analysis as
a preliminary exploration of the scope of genocide in the Middle
East and the extent to whi genocide theory (developed principally
in relation to other world-regions) can help us to explain issues in
this region.
180
e scope of the genocide concept
Since the genocide idea is theoretically as well as politically
contested, I begin with a brief exploration of its scope. e
mainstream of thinking about genocide has never restricted this to
the physical extermination of whole ethnic or national groups, as it
is oen popularly understood. When Lemkin invented the word,8 he
defined its modalities in terms of group ‘destruction,’ understood as
the crippling of culture, ways of life and social relations as well as
physical and biological harm. e core of his idea was maintained, if
more narrowly, in the U.N. definition whi listed five types of
genocidal act (not just killing),9 and has been upheld by later
academic definers, even if some have narrowed the phenomenon to
mass murder. However, the U.N. draers deliberately excluded
specific mention of the prime means through whi groups are
destroyed, the forcible removal of populations, whi has come to be
known by the euphemism ‘ethnic cleansing.’10
e U.N. expanded the list of group types, the destruction of
whi was considered genocide, to include racial and religious as
well as ethnic and national groups. However, solars have widely
argued that the destruction of other types, su as ‘political
groups’—excluded from the Convention for political reasons—and
also class and gender groups, should also be included. Moreover they
have pointed out that group types are not stable; that the content of
‘group’ destruction is similar regardless of how groups are defined;
that what counts is the oen arbitrary subjective definition of the
perpetrators;11 and that what the targets of genocide have in
common objectively is that they are predominantly civilian
populations, not armed actors.12
181
e U.N. definition also introduced the idea that action could
constitute genocide whether a group was targeted ‘in whole or in
part.’ is idea was amplified by Leo Kuper,13 who introduced the
idea of localized ‘genocidal massacres,’ an approa whi can be
generalized to consider other forms of ‘genocidal violence’ su as
expulsions and mass rape.14 While some definitions consider
genocide only in terms of the action of the perpetrators, so that their
targets are assumed to be pure (passive) victims, others emphasize
the possibilities of resistance, the involvement of third parties and
the interactive, conflictual nature of the phenomenon. Hence, in this
paper I will define genocide as ‘a form of violent social conflict or
war between armed power organizations that aim to destroy civilian
social groups, and those groups and other actors who resist this
destruction,’ and genocidal action as ‘action in whi armed power
organizations treat civilian social groups as enemies and aim to
destroy their real or putative social power by means of killing,
violence and coercion against individuals whom they regard as
members of the groups.’15
Sco Straus argues that there is a consensus in some recent work,
resting on a narrow definition whi models genocide in general on
the exceptional physical extermination of episodes like the Holocaust
and Rwanda, that genocide is a ‘rare’ phenomenon.16 However, this
is rather as though war was equated with its maximum cases, the
world wars, and therefore regarded as rare, excluding most lesser
wars from the scope of the phenomenon. e aims of destroying
societies and groups are mu more common than maximal cases
like the Holocaust suggest, and so it makes sense to analyze genocide
as a more extensive phenomenon. A broad concept recognizes
variation in the methods and targets of genocide, and leads to
recognizing genocide as a more widespread phenomenon than if we
define it narrowly as the physical extermination of whole groups. I
aim to show that this approa enables us to illuminate the paerns
182
of targeted anti-civilian violence in world-regions like the Middle
East.
183
A historical and international/regional
approa
Genocide is widely regarded as a ‘domestic’ phenomenon, in whi
states, particularly those controlled by totalitarian regimes, target
population groups within their territories. However, few genocides
fit this model, and cases typically occur through international
processes like colonization, war and occupation, whether totalitarian
or other types of regime are involved. Several solars have
theorized this aspect: Mark Levene argues that the ‘international
system’ generates genocide, Magnus Midlarsky that ‘international
context’ is crucial, and Donald Bloxham that regional paerns of
international conflict generated paerns of genocide in Europe in the
first half of the twentieth century.17
In recent work, I have generalized the laer case to examine the
role of regional paerns more generally in the ‘international
relations of genocide.’ I argue that different kinds of regional
paerns have developed: post-Cold War genocide in the African
Great Lakes region, for example, differs radically from genocide in
East Asia in the period of the Cold War.18 Both specific regional
social/political relations and anging global structures of
international power impact on paerns of genocide. ‘Regions’ are
not, moreover, given structures within the international system, but
are constructed and reconstructed in anging international politics,
including practices of genocide. For example, Timothy Snyder
identifies an eastern European region whi he calls ‘the bloodlands,’
between Nazi Germany and Stalinist Russia, as the crucible of
genocide in the Second World War.19 Yet this is not ‘Eastern Europe’
as it was known during the Cold War, nor the ‘eastern’ Europe,
184
within and between the European Union and Russia, whi we
know today.
e Middle East exemplifies this dynamic aracter of
regionalism. A century ago, when the Oomans still held sway over
most of the area and oil was not yet a central economic reality, the
region as we understand it did not exist. e decay of the old empire,
the arrival of European powers and new economic dynamics,
creating opportunities for state-building and the emergence of
nationalism, created new regional realities. However, as elsewhere,
the Middle East ‘region’ has indeterminate boundaries, whi shi
in our imaginations as political realities and connections with
neighboring ‘regions’ ange.
185
e regional history of genocide
One of the seminal modern genocides, the destruction of Armenian
society in 1915, occurred in this ‘region,’ not only in eastern Anatolia
where most of the estimated million victims lived but also in the
deserts of modern Syria and Iraq where many were taken to die.
ere is now an extensive literature on this case.20 While mu treats
it as an internal maer of the Ooman Empire, it is also understood
in a larger global and regional context. It is widely anowledged
that First World War rivalries, especially between the Ooman and
Tsarist Empires, were catalysts. However, Bloxham analyzes the
Armenian genocide as part of a regional paern conditioned by the
larger system of imperial rivalries—a ‘great game of genocide.’21 e
regional context is of course the decline of the Ooman Empire and
the rise of what he calls ‘subject Christian nationalisms,’ primarily in
the Empire’s European provinces, accompanied by systematic great-
power involvement, whi stimulated Muslim flight into the Turkish
heartland and the nationalism of the Turkish core. He notes that ‘the
quintessentially Western ideology of nationalism was the import
that drove the genocide.’22
Bloxham’s account stands out in depicting genocide as a product
of interactions, not only between empires, between Christian and
Turkish nationalisms, and between Christian and Muslim migrants
and refugees, but also between multi-authored episodes of violence.
e Armenian genocide was not only accompanied by genocides of
other Christians, particularly Assyrians and Greeks, in the later
stages of the empire, as Hannibal Travis describes.23 It was, Bloxham
suggests, the outcome of extensive conflicts within both the Ooman
and Russian empires in the late nineteenth and early twentieth
centuries, involving forced population movements of Muslims as
186
well as Christians, provoked by the violence of insurgent nationalists
as well as imperial authorities. It was followed, not only by the
establishment of a Turkish nation-state whi consolidated the
outcomes of Ooman genocide (and still denies it a century later)
but also by episodes like the Greco-Turkish ‘war of extermination’ of
1921–2 in whi, Bloxham contends, ‘both sides far surpassed’ their
earlier atrocities.24
e Armenian genocide was not, therefore, a stand-alone major
genocide, but the nadir of extensive genocidal processes, in contexts
of both local and world wars, whi destroyed many local
communities of different ethnicities and religions. Bloxham sees
these as part of a ‘European history of violence,’ whi continued far
beyond the denouement of the Balkan wars in the early 1920s, and
culminated in Stalinism, Nazism and the ‘final solution.’25 Its major
sites were not only in Snyder’s ‘bloodlands’ of north-eastern Europe,
but once more in the Balkans.
is literature gives mu less aention to today’s ‘Middle East,’
the Arab world and North Africa, although clearly the conflicts of
the late Ooman period ramified into these zones, and not only in
the siting of Armenian murder. e national claims of the empire’s
Christian nationalities were eoed by emergent claims su as those
of the Kurds, notoriously recognized in the Treaty of Sèvres in 1920
but never realized in practice. Generally, however, nationalist
movements developed later than in eastern Europe, the
homogenization of populations did not develop so far, and genocide
was not a comparable issue in the first half of the twentieth century.
e question that arises, however, is whether the genocidal
experiences of eastern Europe in the early twentieth century, in
whi the destruction of the Armenians was su a defining
moment, can be seen as a precedent for recent and contemporary
developments in the wider Middle East.
187
Genocide in the Middle East during the Cold
War period
In Europe, the 1940s were the culmination, Bloxham suggests, of
three-quarters of a century of genocide.26 However, the Second
World War not only saw the greatest atrocities but also produced a
resolution of the combined inter-imperial and nationalist conflicts
that had produced genocide over the longer period. e Soviet Union
was able, with the acquiescence of the Western powers, to suppress
nationalism across eastern Europe and impose a new population and
border disposition whi the subsequent Cold War froze in place.
However, as genocide ended in Europe, five types of situations
generated new genocidal conflicts outside Europe during the Cold
War period.27 First, Cold War polarization (soon piing China
against the USSR, as well as the West) saw class-targeted violence,
both by the Mao Zedong and Pol Pot regimes and by anti-
Communist dictatorships in Indonesia and later in Latin America.
Second, wars of decolonization in the former European empires saw
genocidal episodes in insurgency and counterinsurgency. ird,
conflicts over control of the post-colonial state saw genocidal
massacres, for example in Rwanda and Burundi. Fourth, secessionist
wars from larger post-colonial states saw genocidal violence in
places su as Bangladesh, Biafra, Indonesia, and Sudan. Finally,
seler colonization continued to lead to the destruction of
indigenous peoples in Latin America.
e Middle East was not prominent in this new history of
genocide, and only some of these types of situation occurred in the
region in the second half of the twentieth century. e genocide
literature has mainly considered Iraq, whi therefore appears as
exceptional to the main paern of politics in the region. Aer the
188
rise to full power of Saddam Hussein in 1979 and his aa on Iran
in 1980, the Ba`athist regime carried out massacres of Kurds and
other minority groups in 1983, and in the Anfal campaign of 1986–
9,28 thousands of Kurdish villages were razed, tens of thousands of
civilians killed—most notoriously in the emical bombing of
Halabja—and hundreds of thousands displaced.29 Violence was also
directed at Shi`a, Assyrians and Yezidis. However, these policies
represented a radicalization of earlier Ba`athist policies aimed at
Arabizing the Kurdish-dominated north, partly because of security
concerns related to regional conflicts as Human Rights Wat
summarizes:
In the 1970s, 80s, and 90s, Iraqi central governments aempted to ange the ethnic
composition of northern Iraq by expelling hundreds of thousands of Kurds and other
minorities from their homes, and repopulating the areas with Arabs transferred from
central and southern Iraq. e government policy, known as “arabization” (ta`rib),
intensified in the second half of the 1970s with the aim of reducing minority
populations whom authorities considered to be of questionable loyalty in this strategic
area. e government responded to Kurdish insurgencies by mounting a concerted
campaign to alter the demographic makeup of northern Iraq, especially in areas
bordering Turkey and Iran. e government used military force and intimidation as the
primary methods. ese policies completely depopulated entire non-Arab villages that
authorities then bulldozed. By the late 1970s the Iraqi government had forcibly
evacuated as least a quarter of a million Kurds and other non-Arabs.30
Nor were the extensive Iraqi population forced removals the only
su developments. e emergence of the Israeli state had seen the
removal and flight of over 700,000 Palestinian Arabs during the war
of 1948, and the resulting societal destruction has also begun to be
discussed within a genocide frame.31 However, since the violent
‘ethnic cleansing’ involved a relatively small ratio of killed (about
5,000) to the population removed, some do not regard it as
genocide.32 Pappé presents compelling evidence that the Zionist
leadership pre-planned the emptying of Palestinian towns and
villages, and in any case Israel consolidated the destruction of most
of Palestinian society in its territory by refusing to allow refugees to
189
return.33 In this sense the erasure of Palestinian society was clearly
intentional. Yet Palestine can also appear as an outlier: an
exceptionally late case of seler colonization, an atypical projection
of a European nationalist project, and an unusual decolonization in
whi the colonizers succeeded in thwarting indigenous nationalist
claims.
erefore, Middle Eastern regimes have not been seen as widely
genocidal in this period. In an influential study, Miael Mann
explores the impact of regime type on what he calls ‘murderous
ethnic cleansing’ (whi I consider here within the scope of
genocide).34 He argues that neither established democracies nor
stable authoritarian regimes are prone to genocide, but unstable and
democratizing regimes (and also seler democracies) are. It could be
argued that the Middle East’s relative insulation from global
democratizing processes during the Cold War, when many regimes
approximated to stable authoritarianism, helped ensure that the
genocidal processes whi affected some parts of Asia, Africa, and
Latin America in this period were less evident.
e key analytical issue in exploring the role of genocide is the
relationship between the generally repressive aracter of Middle
Eastern regimes and specifically genocidal tendencies. e region’s
regimes, monarical and republican, Islamist and Zionist,
proclaimed ‘national’ values while resting on the support of specific
communal groups and discriminating against and repressing others.
Excluded population groups suffered more everywhere, amidst
general repression, especially of political opponents, whi was oen
brutal and violent. e question is why this paern of rule
radicalized in some countries, at specific moments, into aempts to
partially destroy out-groups, either in the sense of removing them
from specific locales and/or through physical violence against large
numbers of members of these groups.
It would be easy to link genocide to the exceptionally brutal
aracter of regimes like Saddam Hussein’s, Hafez al-Assad’s in
190
Syria (responsible for the Hama massacre of 1982) and Muammar
Ghadaffi’s in Libya (the Abu Salim prison massacre of 1996).
However, population displacement and mass violence continued
under other types of regime. In Turkey, under both military and
democratic rule, three thousand Kurdish villages were wiped off the
map and hundreds of thousands displaced; Turkey also expelled the
Greek population from the areas of Cyprus whi it occupied in
1974. Israel gradually extended its removal of Palestinian habitants
aer it occupied the West Bank in 1967, and Lebanese militia allied
to it carried out the 1982 massacre in the Sabra and Shatila refugee
camps.
us, explanations based on regime type are not sufficient. Clearly
counterinsurgency motives were oen important: massacres were
extreme forms of repression, oen in response to resistance. Forced
population movements showed the role of nationalist ideology and
(in the case of some Iraqi Arabization) economic security interests.
International conflict was also crucial: Saddam’s more radical
policies were conditioned by the conflicts resulting from his
aggressive international policies (the invasions of Iran and Kuwait)
as well as by his despotic type of rule.
Following the regional-international approa, we also need to
consider the role of the rival U.S. and Soviet hegemonies in
maintaining regime stability. Another widely accepted
generalization is that war is the harbinger of genocide, and the
Middle East was hardly without wars.35 Yet the wars between the
Arab states and Israel, for example, were brief and did not
fundamentally threaten regional or regime stability. Even the Iran-
Iraq war, whi was long and brutal, was regionally contained: the
revolutionary Iranian regime was isolated, since both superpowers
and most Arab states baed Iraq. Iraq’s atrocities against the Kurds
might then be seen as exceptions conditioned both by a uniquely
‘totalitarian’ regime and the international indulgence towards it,
because of its role in containing Iran.
191
From the end of the Cold War to genocidal
civil war in Iraq
If instability conditions genocide, then (geo)political upheavals may
be expected to create conflict and violence. Globally, the end of the
Cold War saw huge international and domestic political anges, not
just in Europe, but across Asia, Africa and Latin America in the
1980s and 1990s. In central Europe, ‘velvet’ revolutions accompanied
the transition, but elsewhere this was far from the case: in some
post-Soviet areas (Georgia, Armenia-Azerbaijan) as well as in
Yugoslavia, wars involving widespread genocidal violence and
expulsions took place. Democracy was generally associated with
national assertiveness, and where conflict developed, genocidal
violence was oen directed against out-groups, whose presence was
regarded as incompatible with the new nation-states.
For a quarter of a century, the Middle East appeared remarkably
immune to these democratic upheavals and the conflicts they
precipitated. However, another effect of the end of the Cold War, the
emboldening of U.S. military power–projection whi accompanied
first the marginalization and then the disintegration of Soviet power,
had major consequences in the region. e U.S.–led war to reverse
Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait, in 1991, provoked Shi`a and
Kurdish rebellions whi the regime brutally repressed with
extended violence against civilian populations. e consequent U.S.–
U.K.–Fren intervention in Kurdistan was not only a notable
precedent for 1990s ‘humanitarian’ responses to genocide. It also
began a decade of containment of the Saddam regime, with U.N.
sanctions also seen as raising questions of genocide against the Iraqi
population.36
192
e U.S.–led war over Kuwait had another fateful consequence:
the turning of armed Sunni Islamism, whi had allied with U.S.
power against the USSR in Afghanistan in the 1980s, against the
United States with the formation of al-Qaeda and the series of
aas that culminated in the terrorist massacres in New York and
Washington in 2001. ese in turn would embolden the George W.
Bush administration to its 2003 invasion to overthrow Saddam
Hussein. Hyped as promoting a democratic Middle East, the formal
democratization of Iraq passed power to parties of the Shi`a majority
and allowed al-Qaeda to organize among the Sunni minority. e
‘resistance’, especially al-Qaeda in Iraq, found it easier to aa so
civilian targets among the Shi`a, Kurds, Yezidis and others than to
frontally confront U.S. forces.37 Shi`ite militia, newly linked into
state power, responded in what became a low-level civil war by
2005.38 However, this was not merely a war between two sets of
militia: both sides targeted the ‘other’ population in the areas of
Baghdad and other centers whi they controlled, in order to render
them homogeneous, carrying out extensive executions, spreading
terror and forcing large numbers to leave. e civil war added
hugely to the numbers of displaced people and refugees in
neighboring countries, already swollen aer the Iran war, sanctions,
and the U.S. invasion.
A new genocide advocacy whi emerged in North America aer
the 1994 Rwandan genocide had found, at this point, a major focus
in the Darfur crisis. Mahmood Mandani pointed out at the time:
e similarities between Iraq and Darfur are remarkable. e estimate of the number of
civilians killed … is roughly similar. e killers are mostly paramilitaries, closely linked
to the official military, whi is said to be their main source of arms. e victims too are
by and large identified as members of groups, rather than targeted as individuals. But
the violence in the two places is named differently. In Iraq, it is said to be a cycle of
insurgency and counterinsurgency; in Darfur, it is called genocide. Why the difference?
Who does the naming? Who is being named? What difference does it make?39
193
Mamdani raised these questions in order to question the ‘genocide’
appropriation of Darfur, but the refusal of a genocide frame for the
Iraqi war is equally striking. Clearly, linkage with the U.S. invasion
that provoked the violence aer 2003 had bloed genocide
recognition by solars and activists who take for granted the
essentially anti-genocidal aracter of the U.S. world role. A decade
later, however, those who make these assumptions are recognizing
genocide in Iraq and Syria, but only, we have seen, on the part of
Islamic State.
194
From the Arab Spring to wider genocide in
the Middle East
If it was anaronistic that authoritarian rule survived across the
Middle East aer the end of the Cold War, it could not last forever.
With the democratic movements of 2009–12 (the Green movement in
Iran followed by the Arab Spring), the worldwide trend appeared in
the region. Not only is it, therefore, also unsurprising that
democratization led to civil war, extreme repression and genocidal
violence in a number of cases, since similar outcomes followed
previous waves of democratization in the former Soviet and
Yugoslav regions, in Rwanda, and elsewhere in Africa. e
entrened aracter of most Middle Eastern regimes meant that
resistance to ange was particularly likely to be strong. It is
important, however, to distinguish different genocidal dynamics
from the general repressive responses of the authoritarian regimes.
Most existing regimes whi have retained power, including those of
Iran and the Arab monaries, have mainly responded with
repression, even oen brutal, but without aempts to partially
destroy populations, whi we may term genocidal violence.
Genocide appears to have been an issue in four main cases. First,
the Syrian Assad regime has systematically deployed extensive
violence (bombardments and emical aas) against opposition-
supporting populations since 2012, as well as extensive torture
against political prisoners. (Similarly, atrocities have been commied
against Sunni populations in Iraq by government forces and Shi`ite
militia.) Second, the counterrevolutionary Sisi regime in Egypt,
whi came to power through a coup following anti-Muslim
Brotherhood demonstrations, systematically massacred Brotherhood
supporters while repressing their demonstrations in late-2013, and
195
then used the courts to impose mass death sentences on hundreds of
its supporters. ese forms of extreme violence went far beyond the
measures adopted by the existing dictatorships. ird, the Israeli
government launed widespread aas on Gaza in 2009 and 2014,
in the laer case killing two thousand Palestinians in the systematic
destruction of neighborhoods. Finally, Islamic State has massacred,
expelled, enslaved and forcibly assimilated large numbers of non-
Sunnis from the areas of Syria and Iraq that it controls, and its
affiliates have carried out similar acts in other areas.
As noted at the beginning of this apter, mu commentary has
seen only Islamic State’s policies as genocidal. Clearly it openly
projects a genocidal ideology, proclaiming its intentional destruction
of non-Sunni groups. In contrast, the other actors do not formally
identify specific communities as enemies: indeed they deny this, and
claim to be fighting only political enemies. Whereas Islamic State
specifically identifies individuals by their religious identities, the
Syrian and Israeli governments target populations en masse by
virtue of their presence in areas controlled by their armed enemies,
and like the Egyptian regime target those involved in enemy
political, administrative and communal organizations. Yet similar
tactics can be seen in apparently divergent campaigns: for example,
al-Qaeda in Iraq, forerunner of Islamic State, concentrated many of
its suicide bombings on the new Iraqi police, and Israel, in its 2009
assault on Gaza, also systematically aaed police stations and
their personnel, whi it saw as extensions of Hamas. We can
consider all these policies and actions genocidal, however, to the
extent that they manifest aempts to destroy particular civilian
communities or groups as well as armed opponents.
196
Conclusion
is apter has explored the extent and implications of genocidal
tendencies in Middle Eastern politics, especially in the period since
the Second World War, in the light of a global perspective on
regional paerns of genocide. It has argued that the problem of
genocide has been more widespread in Middle Eastern history than
sometimes recognized, and has been exacerbated by the new
conflicts of the twenty-first century arising from the emergence of
democratic allenges to authoritarianism, in the radicalization of
regime repression as well as the policies of insurgents like Islamic
State.
In a global perspective, we need to ask whether these recent
developments represent longer-term historical dynamics as well a
specific region-wide crisis of rule. e comparative literature
suggests the importance of linkages between two sets of processes:
nationalist homogenization of populations and geopolitical rivalries.
Heather Rae sees genocide as a ‘pathological’ form of a general
homogenization of populations within nation-state boundaries.40
Mann argues that ‘murderous cleansing’ arises with democratization
because the ‘demos’ becomes identified with a particular ethnic or
religious identity.41 Bloxham argues that twentieth-century Europe
saw a ‘great unweaving’ of formerly ethnically mixed populations in
the context of the two world wars and other conflicts.42 While these
authors all consider ‘homogenization’ at the national level, Gerard
Toal and Carl Dahlmann show how in Bosnia in the early 1990s,
‘ethnopoliticization’ was followed by ‘ethnoterritorialization’ at a
municipal level, through a stalemated genocidal civil war.43 A
corresponding local homogenization of populations was reinforced,
197
despite the strongest U.N.-sponsored ‘return’ process for refugees yet
seen.
In the Middle East, the period aer the Second World War saw the
establishment of formal nation-states and the rise of secular
nationalism, although states like Saudi Arabia, Israel and (aer 1979)
Iran were based on a dominant religious ideology. Yet despite
nation-state formation, populations remained mostly mixed and
there was only limited population ‘unweaving.’ ere were some
significant movements in addition to those in Iraq and Palestine
noted above: Jewish populations were expelled or migrated to Israel,
non-Sunnis were forced out of key oil areas in Iraq, populations on
both sides concentrated aer Lebanon’s civil wars. However states
mostly repressed rather than expelled or massacred their ‘other’
communal groups. Meanwhile, although geopolitical rivalries
between regional states were manifest—Gulf Arab states feared
Iranian dominance even before the Islamic Revolution—they were
largely contained by Cold War alliances.44
e civil wars in Iraq, since 2003, and Syria, since 2011, have seen
huge population flows whi, like those in former Yugoslavia, have
seen local minorities forced out of territories controlled by all sides.
e genocidal sectarian agenda of Islamic State is exceptional only in
its explicitness: as actors controlling the various areas are
increasingly identified with particular communal identities, non-
members have widely been compelled to move. e result may be,
historian Joshua Landis has speculated, a ‘great sorting out’ of
Middle Eastern populations similar to that whi occurred earlier in
Europe.45 e centrality to the Syrian conflict of the open
geopolitical polarization between the Gulf Arab states and Iran only
deepens the sense of a historic turning-point. In this context, Israel’s
expansion into the occupied West Bank and the increasing assertion
of its right to undivided control of ‘the land of Israel’ appear as part
of a wider process whi is homogenizing populations and removing
the unwanted. Some regimes whi profess to protect some
198
minorities, as Assad does Syria’s Shi`as and Sisi Egypt’s Coptic
Christians, do so in order to create alliances against more important
out-groups, and so the security whi they provide may well prove
temporary.
Events in the Middle East are moving fast and the trends
discussed in this apter will undoubtedly be modified by new
developments. However, the analysis suggests that genocide is a
significant factor in contemporary Middle Eastern politics whi
may be contributing to profound social anges. Comparisons with
other world regions and periods suggest that the crisis will not end
soon or without further genocide.
199
Notes
1 Amnesty International. Ethnic cleansing on a historic scale: Islamic State’s systematic
targeting of minorities in Northern Iraq, 2014.
www.es.amnesty.org/uploads/media/Iraq_ethnic_cleansing_final_formaed ;
Amnesty International. Escape from Hell: Torture and sexual slavery in Islamic State
captivity in Iraq, 2014. www.amnesty.org.uk/sites/default/files/escape_from_hell_-
_torture_and_sexual_slavery_in_islamic_state_captivity_in_iraq_-_english_2
(accessed September 4, 2016).
2 “Statement by Adama Dieng, Special Adviser of the Secretary-General on the Prevention
of Genocide, and Jennifer Welsh, Special Adviser of the Secretary-General on the
Responsibility to Protect, on the situation in Iraq,” United Nations, August 12, 2014.
www.un.org/en/preventgenocide/adviser/pdf/2014-08-
12.Statement%20of%20the%20Special%20Advisers%20on%20Iraq (accessed September
4, 2016).
3 “Open leer from Concerned Genocide Solars regarding the situation in Syria and
Iraq,” Genocide Wat, August 26, 2014. hp://genocidewat.net/2014/08/28/open-
leer-from-concerned-genocide-solars-regarding-the-situation-in-syria-and-iraq/
(accessed September 4, 2016).
4 A. Dirk Moses, “Toward a theory of critical genocide studies,” Online Encyclopedia of
Mass Violence, published on 18 April 2008, www.massviolence.org/Toward-a-eory-of-
Critical-Genocide-Studies (accessed September 4, 2016); A. Dirk Moses, “Paranoia and
partisanship: Genocide studies, holocaust historiography and the ‘apocalyptic
conjuncture,’” The Historical Journal vol. 54, no 2 (2011): 553–83; Martin Shaw, Genocide
and International Relations: Changing Patterns in Upheavals of the Later Modern World
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 15–27.
5 Christian Gerla, Extremely Violent Societies: Mass Violence in the Twentieth Century
World. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010).
200
6 Leo Kuper, Genocide: Its Political Use in the Twentieth Century (Harmondsworth:
Penguin, 1981); Helen Fein, “Genocide: A sociological perspective,” Current Sociology
vol. 38, no. 1 (1990): 1–126; Frank Chalk and Kurt Jonassohn, The History and Sociology
of Genocide: Analyses and Case Studies (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991);
Martin Shaw, What is Genocide, 2nd Ed. (Cambridge: Polity, 2015).
7 Raphael Lemkin, Axis Rule in Occupied Europe (New York: Carnegie, 1944); United
Nations. Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide, 1948.
hps://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/U.N.TS/Volume%2078/volume-78-I-1021-
English (accessed September 4, 2016).
8 Lemkin, Axis Rule in Occupied Europe.
9 United Nations, Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide.
10 Shaw, What is Genocide? 66–83.
11 Chalk and Jonassohn, (1991), The History and Sociology of Genocide: Analyses and Case
Studies, 23.
12 Shaw, What is Genocide?
13 Kuper, Genocide, 32.
14 Martin Shaw, Genocide and International Relations: Changing Patterns in Upheavals of
the Later Modern World (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013) 6.
15 Shaw, What is Genocide? 193.
16 Sco Straus, “Second-generation comparative resear on genocide,” World Politics vol.
59 (2007): 476–501.
17 Mark Levene, The Meaning of Genocide. Volume 1 of Genocide in the Age of the Nation
State (London: IB Tauris, 2005) 156–9; Manus Midlarsky, The Killing Trap (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2005) 18; Donald Bloxham, The Great Game of Genocide
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005); Donald Bloxham, The Final Solution: A
Genocide (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009); Donald Bloxham, “e great
unweaving: e removal of peoples in Europe, 1875–1949”, in Removing Peoples: Forced
Removal in the Modern World, Riard Bessell and Claudia Haake eds., (Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2009) 167–208.
201
18 Shaw, Genocide and International Relations.
19 Timothy Snyder, Bloodlands: Europe Between Hitler and Stalin (New York: Basic Books,
2010).
20 Riard Hovanissian, ed., The Armenian Genocide in Historical Perspective (New
Brunswi: Transaction, 1987); Robert Melson, Revolution and Genocide: On the Origins
of the Armenian Genocide and the Holocaust (Chicago: University of Chicago Press,
1996); Taner Akçam, The Young Turks’ Crime Against Humanity: The Armenian
Genocide and Ethnic Cleansing in the Ottoman Empire (Princeton: Princeton University
Press, 2012); Hannibal Travis, Genocide in the Middle East: The Ottoman Empire, Iraq
and Sudan (Durham: Carolina Academic Press, 2010) 173–226.
21 Bloxham, The Great Game of Genocide.
22 Bloxham, The Great Game of Genocide, 59.
23 Travis, Genocide in the Middle East, 237–92.
24 Bloxham, The Great Game of Genocide, 164.
25 Bloxham, The Final Solution: A Genocide.
26 Bloxham, “e great unweaving: e removal of peoples in Europe, 1875–1949.”
27 Shaw, Genocide and International Relations, 124–44.
28 Travis, Genocide in the Middle East, 389–416.
29 Joost R. Hiltermann, A Poisonous Affair: America, Iraq, and the Gassing of Halabja
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).
30 Human Rights Wat, On Vulnerable Ground: Violence against Minority Communities
in Nineveh Province’s Disputed Territories (New York: HRW, 2009).
31 Martin Shaw, “Palestine in an international historical perspective on genocide,” Holy
Land Studies 9, No. 1 (2010): 1–24.
32 Martin Shaw and Omer Bartov, “e question of genocide in Palestine, 1948: An
exange between Martin Shaw and Omer Bartov,” Journal of Genocide Research vol. 12
(2010): 3–4, 243–59. Bartov’s opinion.
202
33 Ilan Pappé, The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine (New York: Oneworld, 2006); Mark Levene,
“Review of I. Pappé; e ethnic cleansing of Palestine,” Journal of Genocide Research
vol. 9, no.4 (2007): 675–81.
34 Miael Mann, The Dark Side of Democracy: Explaining Ethnic Cleansing (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2005).
35 Shaw, Genocide and International Relations; Levene, The Meaning of Genocide; Mann,
The Dark Side of Democracy, 32.
36 Joy Gordon, Invisible War: The United States and the Iraq Sanctions (Cambridge:
Harvard University Press, 2010).
37 M.J. Kirdar, AQAM Futures Project Case Study Series. Al Qaeda in Iraq, 2011.
hp://csis.org/files/publication/110614_Kirdar_AlQaedaIraq_Web (accessed
September 4, 2016).
38 J.D. Fearon, “Iraq’s Civil War,” Foreign Affairs vol. 86, no. 2 (2007): 2–15; Anthony
Cordesman and Emma Davies, Iraq’s Insurgency and the Road to Civil Conflict
(Washington, D.C.: Center for Strategic and International Studies, 2008).
39 Mahmood Mamdani, “e politics of naming: Genocide, civil war, insurgency,” London
Review of Books vol. 29, no. 5 (2007): 5.
40 Heather Rae, State Identities and the Homogenisation of Peoples (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2002).
41 Mann, The Dark Side of Democracy: Explaining Ethnic Cleansing.
42 Bloxham, “e great unweaving: e removal of peoples in Europe, 1875–1949”.
43 Gerard Toal and Carl Dahlman, Bosnia Remade: Ethnic Cleansing and its Reversal
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011).
44 Fred Halliday, Iran: Dictatorship and Development (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1978).
45 “e great sorting out: Ethnicity and the future of the Levant,” Joshua Landis, December
18, 2013, hp://qifanabki.com/2013/12/18/landis-ethnicity/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
203
Selected Bibliography
Akçam, T. The Young Turks’ Crime Against Humanity: The
Armenian Genocide and Ethnic Cleansing in the Ottoman
Empire. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 2012.
Amnesty International. (2014). Ethnic Cleansing on a historic scale:
Islamic State’s systematic targeting of minorities in Northern
Iraq. Available at:
www.es.amnesty.org/uploads/media/Iraq_ethnic_cleansing_final
_formaed (accessed July 7, 2016).
Bloxham, D. The Great Game of Genocide. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2005.
Bloxham, D. “e great unweaving: the removal of peoples in
Europe, 1875–1949” in Bessell, R. and Haake, C., eds. Removing
Peoples: Forced Removal in the Modern World. Oxford: Oxford
University Press, 2009.
Gordon, J. Invisible War: The United States and the Iraq Sanctions.
Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2010.
Hiltermann, J. R. A Poisonous Affair: America, Iraq, and the Gassing
of Halabja. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007.
Hovanissian, R., ed. The Armenian Genocide in Historical
Perspective. New Brunswi, NJ: Transaction, 2007.
Mamdani, M. “e politics of naming: genocide, civil war,
insurgency” in London Review of Books, (2007) 29(5): 5–8.
Pappé, I. The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. New York: Oneworld,
2006.
Shaw, M. What is Genocide? Cambridge: Polity, 2007/15.
Shaw, Martin. “Palestine in an international historical perspective on
genocide” in Holy Land Studies, (2007) 9(1): 1–24.
204
Shaw, Martin. Genocide and International Relations: Changing
Patterns in Upheavals of the Later Modern World. Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2013.
Straus, S. “Second-generation comparative resear on genocide”.
World Politics, (2007) 59: 476–501.
Travis, H. Genocide in the Middle East: The Ottoman Empire, Iraq
and Sudan. Durham, NC: Carolina Academic Press, 2010.
205
6
e ISIS Crisis and the Broken
Politics of the Arab World
A framework for understanding Radical
Islamism
Nader Hashemi
206
Introduction
When future historians of the Middle East look ba on the early
twenty-first century, the rise of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria
(ISIS) will be discussed as a key turning point in the politics of the
region.1 As a result of the expansion of ISIS in 2014, the boundary
between Iraq and Syria has effectively dissolved. e one-hundred-
year-old colonial borders of the Middle East have not faced su a
radical restructuring since Gamal Abdel Nasser aempted to unify
Egypt and Syria (1958–61), and Saddam Hussein’s aempt at
annexing Kuwait (1990).2 While these prior aempts to re-fashion
borders were short-lived, the phenomenon of the Islamic State will
not disappear as quily. In part, this is because the forces that have
produced ISIS are driven not from above, as in the aforementioned
cases, but are a result of social conditions that have emerged from
below and whi have been brewing in the region for some time.3
us, ISIS can be understood as a product of these dire social
conditions whi has produced a broken politics for the Middle East.
One of the defining features of ISIS is its brutality. Rarely has the
world been exposed to su sadistic violence from an armed
insurgency: its tactics include mass executions, public beheadings,
the immolation of prisoners and sexual slavery, mu of whi is
videotaped and publicized on social media as a recruiting tool. A
New York Times investigation revealed the “systematic rape of
women and girls from the Yazidi religious minority has become
deeply enmeshed in the organization” in the form of a “theology of
rape.” As a consequence, the U.N. High Commissioner for Human
Rights has arged ISIS with genocide, specifically with respect to its
persecution of Iraq’s Yazidi minority.4
207
e ISIS crisis, however, is not merely a regional problem: it has
quily morphed into a global security allenge as well. Aer the
capture of Mosul (Iraq’s second largest city) and its expansion to the
outskirts of Baghdad, ISIS at its height controlled an area roughly
the size of Great Britain, ruling over five to eight million people. In
response, an international coalition of 65 countries, led by the United
States, was assembled to “degrade, and ultimately to destroy, ISIL,”
according to President Obama, “through a comprehensive and
sustained counterterrorism strategy.”5 As the war against ISIS
entered its second year, and aer approximately 8,000 airstrikes at a
cost of 5.36 billion US dollars, US General Martin Dempsey, the
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, observed that the conflict was
“tactically stalemated.”6
During this time ISIS was able to recruit 1,000 new fighters per
month. e overall number of foreign recruits from 100 different
countries doubled from 15,000 to 30,000 in one year, including
approximately 4,500 fighters from the West. ISIS-related aas also
took place during this period in 26 countries, while loyalist groups in
ten countries proclaimed their allegiance and announced the
creation of ISIS wilayats or provinces.7 It was perhaps for these
reasons that the Director of the FBI proclaimed ISIS a bigger threat
to the US than Al Qaeda.8
Prominent Western military and political leaders now speak of a
long-term struggle against ISIS. Upon his retirement, General Ray
Odierno, the US Army ief of staff, observed that in “my mind, ISIS
is a ten to twenty year problem, it’s not a two years problem.” Leon
Panea, who headed both the CIA and the Pentagon, noted that “I
think we’re looking at kind of a 30-year war,” while British Prime
Minister David Cameron described the war against ISIS as “the
struggle of our generation.”9 All of this suggests that ISIS will remain
a global security problem for the foreseeable future.
e critical question that emerges from this picture is: what is the
best framework of analysis to explain the rise and expansion of ISIS?
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Is the problem with ISIS fundamentally due to something inherent in
Islam or in Arab culture? Riard Haass, the President of the Council
on Foreign Relations, hinted at this when he observed that the
Middle East “is a deeply flawed part of the world that never came to
terms with modernity.”10 Similarly, President Obama on several
occasions has spoken about “ancient sectarian differences” between
Sunnis and Shias, observing that the turmoil in the region is “rooted
in conflict that date ba millennia.”11 His implication is that today
we are witnessing a Muslim version of Europe’s wars of religion in
the sixteenth century, and there is lile the international community
can do to ameliorate the problems facing the region; these conflicts
must burn themselves out. Or is the problem with ISIS
fundamentally connected to the legacy of US intervention in Iraq in
2003? Did a failed US policy toward the Middle East inadvertently
create ISIS, as some have argued?12 What is the best entry point or
point of departure to understand this problem?
is apter argues that the twin themes of human rights and
democracy, or rather, their general absence in the Arab–Islamic
world, can best explain the rise and expansion of ISIS. High levels of
state-sanctioned human rights violations and political
authoritarianism have been core features of the politics of the region
for several decades, and it is the consequences of these policies that
have fomented the growth of radical Islamist militancy. e political
vacuum that these crises have produced—engendered by war, state
collapse, and breakdown—has provided a fertile soil for the
emergence and expansion of salafi-jihadi Islam for whi ISIS is the
most recent iteration. Until these social conditions are anged, there
is no reasonable expectation that the ISIS crisis can be ameliorated.
209
e destructive legacy of political tyranny
and war
ere are many dimensions to the ISIS crisis. Structurally speaking,
the roots of this problem can be situated at the intersection of two
sets of political developments that have been brewing in the region
for decades. ese developments have quietly corroded the societies
and politics of the Middle East, and have converged at the present
moment to produce a set of social conditions conducive to the rise of
the Islamic State. e first development, whi has a longer history,
is a direct byproduct of political authoritarianism. e second
development, whi is more recent, is the destabilizing effects that
flow from war and state breakdown.
For most of its modern history, political authoritarianism has been
a key feature of the politics of the Middle East. Survey data has
consistently revealed that among the regions of the world that are
least democratic, the Arab Middle East has repeatedly topped the
list.13 e roots of this go ba to the colonial era and the rise of
modern states: an institutional legacy of colonialism was bequeathed
to the region, where the military, the police, and the bureaucracy
emerged as the strongest state institutions during the post-
independence period.14 An explanation on the persistence of
authoritarianism in the Middle East is a vast topic beyond the scope
of this apter. One thing, however, can be asserted with certainty:
the weakness of democratization and liberalization in the Arab-
Islamic world cannot be explained by Orientalist theories about the
sui generis nature of the Islamic world and its alleged problem with
modernity.15
Authoritarian regimes are not monolithic. ere is considerable
variation in terms of the nature of state–society relations and the
210
extent of political tyranny. At the extreme end of the spectrum, there
are those regimes that Eqbal Ahmad has called ‘neofascist.’ e
survival of these regimes is dependent on
widespread repression of political opposition and social institutions outside of state
control (religious, educational, and professional associations, labor and peasant
organizations). e 1960s and 1970s witnessed a hardening of the authoritarian arteries
of these states, the systematization of terror, the ‘modernization’ and ‘rationalization’ of
their repressive institutions.16
As a result, one of the enduring aracteristics of these neofascist
regimes is that they are “the most blatant contemporary violators of
human rights in both [a] substantive and procedural manner.”17
Eqbal Ahmad’s analysis of these political systems was in the
context of the early 1980s with a view toward the entire global
south. By the late twentieth century, however, these paerns of
repressive rule further intensified in some countries and several of
the worst forms of neofascist regimes could be found in the Arab
world. ey were effectively “national security state[s]” where the
ruling elites viewed the “state as absolute, the individual as
unimportant.” e armed forces were the most important institution
in the country, and were viewed by ruling elites as a “major force for
constructive social ange.” Beyond the armed forces, there exists a
vast network of “secret political organizations … [that] permeate
society. eir highest officials rank among the countries’ most
powerful men.”18 Iraq and Syria under their respective Ba`ath parties
most closely approximate this description.19
Saddam Hussein’s Iraq was a human rights catastrophe. Upon
seizing power, Hussein expanded the institutions of violence and
ruled the country through a combination of lies, fear, show trials,
and a vast network of secret police and intelligence organizations.
e Shia population suffered persecution, and minorities like the
Kurds were harshly repressed. When they resisted these forms of
oppression, they were subjected to what Human Rights Wat called
“a campaign of extermination” that amounted to the “crime of
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genocide.”20 In 1990, Iraq ranked number one in the world for the
number of disappeared people. e U.N. aracterized the human
rights situation in the 1990s as being “of an exceptionally grave
aracter—so grave that it has few parallels in the years that have
passed since the Second World War.”21 Syria has suffered the same
fate under the rule of the House of Assad.
In his novella, The Silence and the Roar, the Syrian writer Nihad
Sirees paints a vivid portrait of life under the Assad regime. “You
beer be careful,” the lead protagonist, Fathi Sheen, tell his mother.
“A joke about the Leader costs whoever cras it six months hard
time.” Parallels with North Korea abound: political life revolves
around the cult of personality of the noble Leader.
If ever it became necessary to play a song about love, it would have to be a song about
love of the Leader. All feelings must be oriented toward the Leader. Love, ardor and
rapture, infatuation and affection, passion and ecstasy: they must all be reserved for the
Leader. Wasting su emotion on a worthless young woman is nothing less than moral
decay itself.22
A comparison of the human rights records of Arab League
member states places Syria at the extreme end of a spectrum of
repression. Arguably, only Saddam Hussein’s Iraq was worse. e
1982 massacre in Hama killed roughly 20,000 people in one week and
is frequently mentioned to highlight the depredations of the Assad
regime. Less well known are the horrors of Syria’s vast prison
system. Tens of thousands have passed through its doors. Untold
numbers have disappeared. A 1996 Human Rights Wat report on
the notorious Tadmor prison describes “deaths under torture” and
“summary executions on a massive scale.” One former inmate
described the place as a “kingdom of death and madness” and
emaciated prisoners were compared to “survivors of Nazi
concentration camps.”23
But this was just one jail in a veritable torture aripelago. e
full story of Syria’s prison system and internal human rights
nightmare under the Assads has yet to be told. e horrors of Syria’s
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prison system have grown exponentially since the Arab Spring
revolt of 2011. e 55,000 photographs of torture victims smuggled
out of Syria by a military defector code-named Caesar, authenticated
by Human Rights Wat, have given us a glimpse. When the full
truth emerges, it may well rival the horrors of the Soviet Union’s
prison system ronicled in Alexander Solzhenitsyn’s Gulag
Archipelago.24
e key point that has a bearing on the rise of ISIS is that this
legacy of despotism and tyranny has destroyed the social fabric of
Iraq and Syria. is process was set in motion long before the
American invasion of Iraq in 2003 and the 2011 Syrian uprising, both
of whi exacerbated a process of social decay. e concept of social
cohesion is relevant here. Social scientists have long recognized that
stable polities are rooted in a dense network of voluntary citizen
associations that help to sustain civil society and community
relations. is generates social capital and social trust, and produces
cooperation between citizens of diverse bagrounds. Over time
conditions are created that enhance social integration, cultivating
ties that bind society together, thus promoting peace and internal
stability.25
e legacy of political authoritarianism in the Arab world has
produced the opposite of these trends. Instead of social cohesion,
there has been social disintegration, instead of social trust there is
widespread fear and distrust of others. Suspicion of paid informants
of the state’s intelligence services is a normal part of life. ‘e walls
have ears’ phenomenon is a common feature of police states. e net
result of the habituation of these paerns of social and political life
over the course of decades is the creation of a culture of fear,
paranoia, and deceit replete with conspiracy theories and the desire
to exact revenge. When society is subjected to a calamitous sho,
via war or state collapse, collective disorientation sets in and the
doors to radicalization are opened.26
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Consider the case of Iraq. For the last thirty-six years, Iraq has
been deeply traumatized by ongoing war. e Iran–Iraq War (1980–
8) killed and wounded approximately one million people on both
sides. It destroyed Iraq’s main oil terminals, refineries, and
petroemical plants and cost Iraq approximately US$452 billion.
ere was a short respite before the onset of the Iraq–Kuwait war
(1990–1). During this second war, most of Iraq’s remaining economic
infrastructure was destroyed, and severe economic sanctions were
imposed by the United Nations, under the infamous “Oil for Food”
program. Shortly thereaer, there was a sharp increase in
malnutrition, infant mortality, and disease that devastated Iraqi
society during the 1990s. is was followed by the 2003 Anglo-
American invasion and occupation of Iraq whi quily produced
an armed insurgency, a partial collapse of the state, a sectarian civil
war, and the fragmentation of the country. Several hundred
thousands of Iraqis were killed and wounded.27 A January 2016 U.N.
Report noted that violence suffered by civilians “remains staggering,”
with at least 18,800 killed between January 1, 2014 and October 31,
2015. More than 3.2 million people were displaced during the same
period.28
Syria’s story is similar with two critical differences: the war has
been of shorter duration, but its social effects have been more
devastating. Since Mar 2011, an expanding war has engulfed the
entire country producing a mass exodus whi the U.N. has called
the “worst refugee crisis since World War II.”29 e war has included
an extreme human rights crisis that is near genocidal in its
dimensions (more on this later). As the conflict entered its fih year,
two reports established that 2014 was the deadliest year of the Syrian
conflict, with 250,000 deaths and close to a million wounded, a figure
that reflects six percent of Syria’s population. During this period, life
expectancy dropped by 27 years and more than half of Syria’s 23
million population became internally displaced or fled the country as
refugees. 82 percent of Syrians now live in poverty.30
214
One comprehensive U.N. report noted that the “future growth of
the Syrian economy has been compromised by the systematic
collapse and destruction of its economic foundations as its
infrastructure and institutions, human and physical capital, as well
as the wealth of the nation [have] been obliterated.”31 e future
viability of Syria as a cohesive nation-state is now in question.
e Internal Displacement Monitoring Center noted that as of
2015, Syria and Iraq have the largest number of displaced people in
the world. Collectively, 14 million people have been forced to flee
their homes. “One thing is clear: the situation in the region has
become uerly unsustainable,” observed António Guterres, the
United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees. He called this
crisis “a cancer that risks spreading and metastasizing.”32
It is precisely for these reasons of state breakdown and collapse,
that ISIS has been able to establish its state in parts of Syria and Iraq
and not in other parts of the Islamic world. Iraq and Syria are unique
in the sense that these states have been most adversely affected by
the twin legacies of political authoritarianism and the consequences
that flow from war and state collapse, thus creating a vacuum that
has been filled by radical Islamism.
e political illegitimacy of the state in Iraq and Syria has also
exacerbated these trends. e sectarian policies of the ruling regimes
in Baghdad and Damascus have alienated Sunni communities,
allowing ISIS to exploit their grievances to generate support and
claim the mantle of leadership among persecuted Sunni populations.
In the case of Iraq, Nuri al-Maliki’s government exploited a de-
Ba`athification law to marginalize and discriminate against Sunni
politicians. His majoritarian and authoritarian style of rule as prime
minister (2006–14) exacerbated communal tensions and bred Sunni
alienation whi ISIS successfully exploited. Peaceful protests by
Iraqi Sunnis were repressed. One example was the Al-Hawija
massacre on April 23, 2013 that killed 50 people and injured over 100,
enflaming Sunni public opinion across Iraq.33
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In the case of Syria, the problem is measurably mu worse. e
House of Assad has been in power for more than 45 years. In
contrast to Iraq, no elections are held, and there is neither a free
press nor a functioning civil society. e key positions of power and
the senior officer corps are staffed by Assad loyalists, many of them
from the same Alawite minority as Bashar al-Assad. Aer the 2011
Syrian uprising, the base of support of the Syrian regime narrowed
to a core Alawite constituency, enhancing the perception among 70
percent of Syrians who are Sunni that Assad’s minority-led regime is
willing to retain power at all costs. Strong regional support from Iran
and Hezbollah to sustain the Assad regime has only deepened this
conviction.
Summarizing the connection between Sunni alienation and an
affinity for ISIS, the New York Times astutely observed that by
“employing a mix of persuasion and violence” ISIS has expanded its
influence in the Arab world. It has been able to
present itself as the sole guardian of Sunni interests in a vast territory cuing across
Iraq and Syria. Ideologically unified, the Islamic State is emerging as a social and
political movement in many Sunni areas, filling a void in the absence of solid national
identity and security.
In the face of highly sectarian regimes, “some Sunnis [are] willing to
tolerate the Islamic State in areas where they la another defender,
especially in conservative communities like the ones in western Iraq
and eastern Syria, where the group is strongest.” According to one
analyst, as a result of the spread of sectarianism in the region,
“under the skin of every single Sunni there is a tiny Daesh [ISIS
supporter].”34
216
Why all roads lead to Damascus
e conflict in Syria is essential to understanding the rise and
expansion of ISIS. Without it, there would be no global ISIS crisis as
we understand it today. is relationship between Syria and ISIS
highlights a key argument of this apter: the regional turmoil
plaguing the Middle East is the byproduct of a severe human rights
crisis caused by the war in Syria (now into its sixth year). Syria is
like a “geopolitical Chernobyl,” that continues to “spew radioactive
instability and extremist ideology over the entire region.”35 ese
issues are deeply interlinked and cannot be over-emphasized:
resolving the political conflict within Syria is an essential
precondition to solving the ISIS crisis.36
ISIS is connected to Syria in several important ways that are
under-appreciated in the global debate on the topic. e dominant
narrative suggests that ISIS is most deeply linked to Iraq. Most
mainstream accounts locate the origins of ISIS in its parent
organization, Al Qaeda in Iraq (AQI), founded by Abu Musab al-
Zarqawi, whi surfaced aer the 2003 US invasion and
occupation.37 is is undoubtedly true, but to leave the story here
ignores critical subsequent developments.
Aer an impressive start, by 2008, the salafi–jihadi movement in
Iraq, for whi AQI was its most extreme representative, was in
decline. By 2010, AQI was beaten down, reduced to a few hundred
core followers. Its demise was due to a combination of factors: the
indiscriminate violence that AQI unleashed on Iraqi society, an
American troop surge, the creation of the “Sunni Awakening”
(Sahwa) councils that fought against AQI, along with promises of
Sunni inclusion in a Shia-dominated Iraq. By the time American
combat troops were withdrawn in 2011, most of AQI’s senior leaders
217
and field operatives were eliminated and both Abu Musab al-
Zarqawi and Obama Bin Laden had been killed.38
ese events overlapped with the Arab Spring. When the Arab
Spring began in Syria in Mar 2011, no ISIS or Al Qaeda presence
existed in Syria. Nonviolent protesters anting nonsectarian slogans
formed the bulk of the opposition to the Syrian regime, who like
their counterparts in other Arab countries, were demanding
democracy, dignity, and social justice. e Assad regime (baed by
Iran and Russia) responded with criminal brutality. As a direct
result, a set of social conditions were created that gradually
militarized a peaceful uprising and then radicalized it.39 As the
cradown continued and the violence increased to near genocidal
levels, a political and ideological vacuum ensued. It was soon filled
by salafi-jihadis, many of whom were supported by regional powers,
who benefited from the ensuing aos and devastation. Many of the
top leaders of these radical Islamists groups were deliberately
released from Assad’s prison as part of a strategy to sectarianize the
uprising and remove the global spotlight on the Assad family’s 41
year rule.40 Radical Salafism rose from the ashes of the internal
conflict in Syria and was given a new lease on life. It continues to
expand to this day.
By the end of the first year of the Syrian uprising, all leading
human rights organizations—Amnesty International, Human Rights
Wat and the U.N. Independent International Commission of
Inquiry on Syria—had arged the regime in Damascus with state-
sanctioned “war crimes” and “crimes against humanity.”41 By a wide
margin, the Assad regime has been responsible for the vast majority
of civilian deaths during the course of this war. According to the
Syrian Network for Human rights, from Mar 2011 to October 2015,
regime forces were responsible for 96 percent of civilian deaths; ISIS
was responsible for approximately one percent.42 As the conflict
continued and deepened, the U.N. High Commissioner for Human
Rights, Navi Pillay, repeatedly called on the U.N. Security Council to
218
refer the Assad regime to the International Criminal Court; a move
bloed by Russia and China. During this time, the U.N. Secretary-
General Ban Ki-moon issued repeated global warnings that “Syria is
now the biggest humanitarian and peace and security crisis facing
the world.”43 e human rights catastrophe that has engulfed Syria
worsens with every passing year. Syria is the primary moral and
humanitarian catastrophe of the twenty-first century.
is conflict has produced the world’s worst refugee crisis since
World War II, a emical weapons crisis, a rape crisis, a health crisis,
a hunger crisis, a torture crisis, a cultural heritage crisis—and, as a
consequence of all the foregoing—an ISIS crisis. ese quasi-
genocidal conditions have created a fertile soil for the rebirth and
expansion of radical Islamist militancy in the heart of the Arab
world.44
ISIS is connected to Syria in other distinct ways that tie their
futures together. According to US intelligence, two-thirds of ISIS’
military assets are located in Syria.45 Were ISIS to be defeated in
Iraq, it could entren itself in eastern Syria where it feeds off local
support and where no local military force or bombing campaign can
easily dislodge it. e Syrian town of Raqqa is the de facto capital of
ISIS. Most executions of foreign hostages have taken place in Syria.
ISIS was reborn in Syria; its future will be determined in Syria.
e argument that the conflict could be ‘contained’ within Syria’s
borders is easily exposed now as a fallacy. From the start, the
question of how the international community should respond to
Syria led to divisive debate. e prominent American international
relations theorist and foreign policy analyst John Mearsheimer,
invoking realpolitik arguments, argued that the conflict in Syria did
not affect core strategic interests of the West and was of “lile
importance for American security.”46 e 2015 ISIS-inspired terror
aas in three NATO countries (in the cities of Paris, San
Bernardino and Ankara), and the wave of ISIS-related aas in
219
early 2016 in Jakarta, Istanbul, Baghdad, Philadelphia, and Burkina
Faso suggest otherwise.
Similarly, Stephen Walt has argued publicly that the quiest way
of ending the conflict would be for the Syrian people to surrender to
the Assad regime.
What may be best for the Syrian people in terms of ending human suffering is to say [to
them] we are not going to drive him from power … but that ultimately if what you
want is fewer people dying … you might have to anowledge that he will remain in
power. … is is at least a possibility we will have to begin to reconcile ourselves to.47
Walt’s proposal is undoubtedly correct, but only in the same sense
that the conflicts in Rwanda and Bosnia twenty years earlier could
have been ended sooner if opposition forces surrendered to the Hutu
and Serbian governments. e Obama Administration, informed by
the legacy of the Iraq invasion, has been persuaded by these
arguments.48
Syria clearly demonstrates, as Bosnia did twenty years earlier, that
wars whi involve massive human rights violations on a near
genocidal scale cannot be contained or ignored. eir destabilizing
affects eventually pose a direct threat to international peace and
security. In an age of globalization, the ripple effects are felt around
the world.
None of this “was inevitable,” observes Rania Abouzeid in her
forensic investigation on the rise and expansion of ISIS.
e Syrian revolution—and the hesitant, confused international reaction to it—paved the
way for the resurrection of a militant Islam that would turn vast regions of Iraq and
Syria into borderless jihadi strongholds and in closer to redrawing the map of the
Middle East.49
e airperson of the U.N. Independent International Commission
of Inquiry on Syria, the distinguished jurist Paulo Sérgio Pinheiro,
similarly observed that the inaction of the international community
“nourished the violence” consuming Syria and “its most recent
beneficiary [has been] ISIS.”50
220
e crushing of the Arab Spring and the rise
of ISIS
ere is a longstanding and widely recognized inverse relationship
between democratic societies and violence. e more that
democracy advances, in the form of political accountability, public
transparency and the peaceful transfer of power, the less the
likelihood of violence. is is a variation of the famous democratic
peace theory that recognizes that democratic societies are more
internally peaceful and less likely to go to war than their non-
democratic counterparts.51 is theory is pertinent to understanding
the rise of ISIS.
Observing the general turmoil in the Middle East today, it is easy
to forget that a few years ago, the region looked quite different. e
2011 Arab Spring brought hope to people of the region. Starting in
North Africa and moving in qui succession across the Middle East,
pro-democracy revolts swept three longstanding dictators from
power and came close to removing another two. e Arab Spring
shook the foundations of Middle Eastern authoritarianism while
capturing the imagination of the entire world.
Al Qaeda’s response to the Arab Spring was revealing. It was
shoed by a turn of events that produced ideological confusion and
organizational incoherency. In an important study, Jihadi Discourse
in the Wake of the Arab Spring,52 the authors note that during the
Arab Spring salafi-jihadi groups were both impotent and unpopular.
e reasons for this are self-evident. For a moment it appeared that
political ange could be aieved via peaceful protest rather than
violent revolution. is undermined one of the central ideological
claims of Al Qaeda whi had long argued that dictators could only
be removed via armed struggle; democratic elections and nonviolent
221
protests could never work. As Ayman Al-Zawahiri put it: “What is
truly regreable is the rallying of thousands of duped Muslim youth
in voter queues before ballot boxes instead of lining them up to fight
in the cause of Allah.”53 As a result, the ideological appeal of Islamic
militancy during this period fell precipitously throughout the Arab-
Islamic world.
e Arab Spring was rolled ba due to a counter-revolution led
by the previous ruling elites, the deep state, and its regional allies
(primarily Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates).54 e
promise of peaceful political ange and the door to democratization
was slammed shut. As a direct result, there was an increase in
violence and extremism across the region. is demonstrates another
important relationship that is central to the politics of the Middle
East: when democratic openings are closed and moderate forms of
political Islam are crushed, radical Islam thrives as a consequence.
e case of Egypt aer the 2013 military coup demonstrates this
point.
General Abdel Faah El-Sisi came to power by toppling Egypt’s
first democratically elected President, Mohammad Morsi. e
badrop to his seizure of power was an orgy of violence that
Human Rights Wat described as a “likely crime against humanity”
and “what may have been the worst single-day killing of protesters
in modern history.”55 e reference is to the Rab`a al-adawiya
massacre on August 14, 2013 that killed 1000 people in downtown
Cairo in a few hours. ese events unofficially brought an end to the
Egyptian democratization process that began with the ouster of
Hosni Mubarak in February 2011. Since then, there has been a
significant rise in violence and political extremism across the
country.
In the twenty-two month period since Egypt’s July 2013 coup,
there have been more than 700 aas across Egypt compared to 90
aas in the previous twenty-two months. Human Rights Wat
has reported a figure of 41,000 political prisoners (mostly members of
222
the Muslim Brotherhood), many of whom have been tortured.
According to Amnesty International, Egypt issued 509 death
sentences in 2014, the second highest number in the world.56
e number of young people radicalized by these events is
difficult to measure. To the extent that anecdotal evidence, media
reports, and trends on social media are a reflection of this tendency,
it is accurate to state that Egypt has become a breeding ground for
radical Islamism. Marc Lyn has argued that, notwithstanding the
Muslim Brotherhood’s social conservatism and illiberalism,
historically they performed an important role as a “firewall against
extremism.”57 A politically active Egyptian with a religious identity
could find expression in the public sphere by joining the Muslim
Brotherhood and participating in electoral politics. Since the coup
and the aempt to eradicate the Muslim Brotherhood, this option no
longer exists. e two oices that remain for Egyptian youth are: 1)
to remain silent and accept the current neofascist order, or 2) to
contemplate joining a utopian revolutionary political project su as
ISIS. ere is no third alternative.58 Tales from Egypt’s notorious
prison system confirm this argument.
Mohammad Soltan, an Egyptian-American, was twenty-five years
old when he was arrested in the summer of 2013. He spent twenty-
one months in jail; during sixteen of these months, Soltan was on a
hunger strike. He lost 160 pounds, risking organ failure. When he
emerged from prison he could not walk. In a special New York Times
profile, he discussed the torture and brutality he faced but also
revealed details of the internal political debates among prisoners;
several of his cellmates were ISIS supporters.59
“ey walked around with a victorious air,” he recalled. ey
would frequently point to supporters of the Muslim Brotherhood
and state: “look, you idiots, your model doesn’t work.” e ISIS
supporters would then proceed to “make very simple arguments
telling us that the world doesn’t care about [democratic] values and
only understands violence.” He also noted that because “of the
223
gravity of the situation [we] were all in, by the time the ISIS guys
were finished speaking, everyone, the liberals, the Brotherhood
people, would be le completely speeless. When you’re in that
type of situation and don’t have many options le, for some people
these kinds of ideas start to make sense.”60
Tunisia, the one Arab Spring country that did undergo a
successful democratic transition, provides an alternative model to
that of Egypt. Raed Ghannoui, the leader of Ennahda, has
observed that the “only way to truly defeat ISIS is to offer a beer
product to the millions of young Muslims in the world.” It is called
“Muslim democracy.” He noted that that most “young people don’t
like ISIS—see how many millions flee from it—but they won’t accept
life under tyrants either.” is “beer product” must be a political
system that is democratic, that respects human rights, and that gives
Islamic values political space.61
It is not a coincidence that ISIS emerged and aracted followers
aer the crushing of the Arab Spring, highlighting the relationship
between democratization and violence. e simplest formulation of
this insight into modern politics was perhaps best articulated by
John F. Kennedy in 1962: “ose who make peaceful revolution
impossible will make violent revolution inevitable.”62
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e political theology of ISIS
A significant part of the ISIS crisis is related to the development and
mainstreaming of a particular Sunni interpretation of Islam. is
interpretation is deeply sectarian, misogynistic, authoritarian,
intolerant, anti-democratic, puritanical, ultraconservative and most
importantly—it legitimates the use of violence against others,
particularly fellow Muslims. is brand of Islam has a specific
intellectual genealogy and political history, including a history of
collusion with Western powers, whi has not received sufficient
aention in the global debate on ISIS. Any comprehensive
understanding of the ISIS crisis would be incomplete without
examining this dimension of the problem.
Khaled Abou El Fadl has described this phenomenon as the “rise
of the culture of ugliness in modern Islam.” In the context of Islam’s
1400 year history, it is a recent development but it has obtained a
critical mass, sinking deep roots in Muslim societies in the laer half
of the twentieth century. Its spread has had a corrosive effect on
Muslim communities and it “continues to be the single most
important obstacle to articulating reasonable narratives of legitimate
possibilities of Islam’s contribution to human goodness.”63 e
dissemination and proliferation of this intolerant interpretation of
Islam can be traced to the heart of the Arab-Islamic world and is
linked to the internal policies of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia and
the rise of Wahhabism.
Wahhabism, is a puritanical interpretation of Islam associated
with the teaings of the eighteenth century evangelist Muhammad
bin ‘Abd al-Wahhab (d.1792). Concerned with the decline of Islamic
civilization, he developed a theology that was a reflection of the
austere desert surroundings he came from, the Najd region of central
225
Arabia. e galvanizing power of his message was rooted in an
uncompromising belief that the moral renewal of Islam could only
take place by the cleansing of kufr (unbelief) from the ummah
(Islamic community).64
His analysis of the problem of civilizational decline was that
Muslims have forgoen God and the unity of his message (tawheed)
because of the reliance on heretical innovations and the infiltration
of corrupt rituals and beliefs associated with Shiism, Sufism, and
other deviant Sunni practices. His writings rejected mu of the
classic Islamic jurisprudential tradition and the plurality of sools
of thought connected to this tradition. Orthodoxy was narrowly
defined in pursuit of an absolutist and insular reading of Islam.
Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab demonstrated hostility toward all forms
rationalism and intellectual thought. He viewed fields of knowledge
related to the humanities, especially philosophy, as a unique
corruption connected to “the sciences of the devil.”65 Most forms of
human creativity and artistic expression su as music were
repudiated. He also preaed hostility toward non-Muslims, who
should never be befriended or taken as allies. Arguably his most
destructive teaing was the promotion of the practice of takfir—
accusing another Muslim of apostasy, thereby sanctioning violence
against her or him.
In justifying takfir, Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab developed a methodology
that was to be emulated by radical Islamist groups in the late
twentieth and early twenty-first centuries. He would scour “the vast
annals of the [Islamic] tradition in sear of cruel anti-humanistic
reports that have long been dead and then rehabilitat[ed], [spread],
and empower[ed] them so that they [could] justify the commission
of acts of ugliness.”66 is would give these acts of violence an aura
of Islamic authenticity and sanctity that ordinary Muslims, unversed
in the details of their religious tradition, would find difficult to
repudiate.
226
Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab’s views would have remained marginal were
it not for several critical developments that allowed them to expand
globally. e first issue is the overaring allenge of modernity
facing Muslims in the late nineteenth century in terms of the rise of
the West, especially the intellectual, moral, and political issues
associated with this allenge. is produced a variety of responses
both radical and reformist, and staunly secular or traditionally
conservative.67 Within this context, a Salafist theological orientation
emerged.
At its inception in the late-nineteenth century, Salafism was a
broad reformist intellectual response that sought to negotiate the
tensions between tradition and modernity by going ba to the
origins of Islam for inspiration and answers. Specifically, it elevated
the moral example of the early Muslim community (al-salaf al-salih)
as one to be emulated in order to meet modern allenges. In this
sense, all Muslims are Salafists by default, given the central
importance of the life of the Prophet Muhammad and the early
Muslim community for believers. During the mid-twentieth century,
however, Salafism moved in a more conservative direction and
gradually became infused with Wahhabism in part because of the
methodological similarity between these two currents of thought.
Today the two are synonymous terms. e core aracteristics of
Salafism include: (1) an emphasis on the purity of the early Muslim
community and a rejection of anything that came aerward in
Islamic history; (2) an obsession with the problem of shirk
(polytheism) that has allegedly infused itself into Muslim societies
due to rituals and practices that are innovations (bid`a) that must be
purged; and (3), a sincere belief that the r`an and the traditions of
the Prophet Muhammad (sunnah) are clear in meaning and possess
the answers for every conceivable circumstance.68
e second development that guaranteed the survival of
Wahhabism was its embrace by Muhammad Ibn Saud, a local tribal
ief who lived in the late eighteenth century. is produced a
227
religious-political movement that gradually subdued the other tribes
of the Arabian peninsula and formed the foundations of the social
contract that shaped the modern state of Saudi Arabia.69 e House
of Saud supplied the military muscle, while Wahhabism provided the
underlying ideology. In areas where they expanded during the
nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the Wahhabis would engage in
extreme acts of brutality that shoed local Muslims. Public
floggings for crimes su as listening to music, shaving their beards,
wearing silk or gold (for men), smoking, playing ess, bagammon
or cards or failing to uphold strict rules of gender segregation were
common. All shrines and most historical monuments in Arabia were
also destroyed.70 ese practices, justified in the name of a literalist
reading of Islam, would have been limited to the Arabian peninsula
had it not been for another critical development—the discovery of
oil.
e marriage of Saudi petrodollars to Wahhabi Islam gave this
specific ideological orientation a global rea. Muslim societies
around the world were affected through the financing of mosques,
the dissemination of Wahhabist literature, and the provision of
generous solarships for the training of imams in Saudi Arabia.
Billions of dollars were poured into this endeavor. Aer the 1979
Iranian Revolution, more funds were invested to undermine Iran’s
revolutionary appeal. e Wikileaks documents “indicate an
extensive apparatus inside the Saudi government dedicated to
missionary activity that brings in officials from the Foreign, Interior
and Islamic Affairs Ministries, the intelligence service and the office
of the king.” Projects that have been funded include “puing foreign
preaers on the Saudi payroll, building mosques, sools and study
centers, and undermining foreign officials and news media deemed
threatening to the kingdom’s agenda.” 71
e consequences of these policies le their mark on Muslim
societies. As Saudi Arabia emerged as a major regional power and
oil exporter baed by Western powers, the pluralism and relative
228
tolerance that once existed in Muslims societies were gradually
undermined as Saudi funding extended Wahhabi influences across
the Muslim world. Existing tensions related to problems of
development, modernity and identity were exacerbated. A rise in
sectarianism was one result of these policies.
Arguably, the most toxic effect of Wahhabism has been the
mainstreaming of a puritanical interpretation of Islam masquerading
as normative Islam by hijaing the symbols of Islamic authenticity
and legitimacy. Commenting on the global spread of Wahhabism,
Khaled Abou El Fadl observes:
Today nearly all of the issues and problematics that interested and pre-occupied
Wahhabi theology and thought have been injected into the Muslim mainstream, and in
fact, have come to permeate Muslim social interactions and debates. What were at one
time considered imprudent fixations upon minutiae marginal to the faith by an
intemperate group of Bedouins now [have] become at the center of Muslim debates.72
e radicalization of Muslim youth today and the use of violence in
the name of religion also have direct Wahhabi links. Several of the
most dramatic acts of terrorism in the West in recent years illustrate
this point. Consider the 2013 Boston Marathon Bombing. e
perpetrators of this crime were Tamerlane and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev,
young men from the Dagestan/Chenya region of the northern
Caucasus. Aer the breakup of the Soviet Union, religion was freed
from state control and a new Salafist-Wahhabi interpretation of
Islam, baed by Saudi Arabia, moved in to fill the void. On a trip
ba to Dagestan in early 2012, Tamerlane Tsarnaev was reportedly
radicalized. Among his favorite videos on Youtube, for example, was
one that denounced Dagestan’s traditional Sufi interpretation of
Islam in favor of the more hardline Salafist interpretation that had
arrived on the scene.73
e 2015 Paris aas also have drawn aention to the problem of
radicalization in Muslim immigrant communities. Belgium has
featured prominently in this story and according to an investigation
229
by The Independent, some “of the answers may lie in the implanting
of Saudi Salafist preaers in the country from the 1960s.”74
In 1967, keen to secure oil contracts, the Belgian government
hosted the King of Saudi Arabia. Part of the expansion of relations
included the establishment of mosques and the hiring of Gulf-
trained clerics. is coincided with the arrival of North African and
Turkish workers whose main places of worship were these Saudi-
supported mosques. “e Moroccan community … comes from the
Maliki sool of Islam, and are a lot more tolerant and open than the
Muslims from other regions like Saudi Arabia,” noted George
Dallemagne, a Belgian member of parliament. “However, many of
them were re-Islamified by the Salafist clerics and teaers … Some
Moroccans were even given solarships to study in Medina, in
Saudi Arabia.”
Mr. Dallemagne says these Salafist clerics have been a huge
obstacle to the integration of Moroccan immigrants. He observed
that:
We like to think Saudi Arabia is an ally and friend, but the Saudis are always engaged
in double-talk: they want an alliance with the West when it comes to fighting Shias in
Iran, but nonetheless have a conquering ideology when it comes to their religion in the
rest of the world.
A Wikileaks document confirmed this story:
[It] revealed that a staff member of the Saudi embassy in Belgium was expelled years
ago over his active role in spreading the extreme so-called Takfiri dogma. e cable—
between the Saudi King and his Home Minister—referred to Belgian demands that the
… Saudi director, Khalid Alabri, should leave the country, saying that his messages were
far too extreme.75
A similar story can be told about the December 2015 terrorist aa
in San Bernardino, California. e assailants, Syed Rizwan Farook
and Tashfeen Malik, had Saudi connections. Not only did the couple
meet and marry in Saudi Arabia, but press reports reveal that the
Malik family, aer moving to Saudi Arabia when Tashfeen was a
230
toddler, internalized a Wahhabi form of Islam that led to an
estrangement with their family ba in Pakistan. “From what we
heard, they lived differently, their mindset is different. We are from a
land of Sufi saints … this is very shoing for us,” said soolteaer
Hifza Bibi, the step-sister of Malik’s father.76 People who knew the
family claim that, “aer some years in Saudi Arabia, Ms. Malik’s
father, Gulzar, rejected the more tolerant Barelvi sool of Sunni
Islam that his family had traditionally practiced, and turned to the
stricter (neo-Wahhabi) Deobandi sool.” Family ties were broken as
a result. “‘ere was a lot of friction within the whole family as they
adhered to different sects,’ said Zahid Gishkori, a journalist based in
Islamabad who is from the same district as the family.”77 When
Tashfeen Malik returned to Pakistan to study pharmacy, she earned
a reputation as that ‘Saudi girl’ from sool administrators who
noted she had troubling fiing in due to her strict practice of
Wahhabi Islam.78
231
ISIS and Saudi Arabia compared
In the summer of 2014, ISIS caught the aention of the world as they
captured the city of Mosul. Soon aerward, the public beheadings of
five foreign hostages took place in qui succession and were
broadcast on social media. e story dominated headlines for weeks.
Unbeknownst to most people, however, was that during the same
period in Saudi Arabia, nineteen people were beheaded.79 No
Western government issued a protest. According to Amnesty
International, this was part of a trend in Saudi executions that had
reaed a 20-year high by the end of 2015. Saudi Arabia began the
year 2016 with a mass execution of 47 prisoners, including a
prominent Shia cleric, drawing further rebuke from human rights
groups.80 e behavioral similarities between Saudi Arabia and ISIS
run deep.
On December 16, 2014, ISIS issued a communiqué listing
punishments that would now be enforced in Islamic State territory.
It justified these punishments by invoking a traditional
interpretation of hudud provisions stipulated in Islamic law. e
crimes and punishment list included: treason (death), homosexuality
(death), the (amputation of hand), adultery (death by stoning),
murder, treason and blasphemy (death), and so on.81 is is nearly
identical to the crime and punishment provisions routinely
implemented in Saudi Arabia.82
When ISIS needed textbooks for its sool curricula, it
downloaded books from the Ministry of Education in Saudi Arabia.
Wahhabi texts were a perfect ideological mat for its theology
given the shared Salafist theological bases between the two political
entities. A study that followed Saudi twier conversations on the
topic reported statements that confirmed that this symmetry was
232
“normal” because as one person noted “all our life we have lived
with [ISIS] and its thoughts, its sools and its curriculum.” Adil al-
Kalbani, a Wahhabi cleric, who had led prayers as an Imam at the
Holy Shrine in Mecca, stated that “[ISIS] is a Salafi [fundamentalist]
offshoot … a reality we should confront with transparency.”
Commenting on this admission, Abu Hamza al-Masa`ary added that
ISIS is the fruit of “the tree of Wah[h]abi preaing.”83
Notwithstanding these shared theological underpinnings, there is
a critical difference that sets ISIS apart from Saudi Arabia. e
Salafist strain of Wahhabism preaed in Saudi Arabia promotes
obedience to the monary while the ISIS’ version rejects this notion
and seeks to topple existing political regimes and replace them with
a Caliphate. is poses a deep political dilemma for the future of
Saudi Arabia. e House of Saud “now has a foe that is so close it its
own religious interpretation of Islam, that Saudi Arabia cannot be
seen to be fighting ISIS very strongly because it would undermine its
authority at home.”84
Proof of this ISIS–Saudi connection has been produced in a
Brookings Institution study. Based on a sample size of 20,000, the
report concluded that ISIS supporters on Twier disproportionately
come from Saudi Arabia.85 Saudi Arabia also tops the list of foreign
fighters who have joined this organization, and Saudi fighters have
undertaken many of the suicide operations in ISIS-controlled
territory as well.86
In summary, reflecting on the impact of Wahhabism on Muslim
societies today, Khaled Abou El Fadl concludes that because of its
“puritanical and idealized, and thoroughly mythologized, view of the
past, the Wahhabi orientation cannot reconcile between its
understanding of this idealized view of the past and the complexity
and diversity of cultures” that constitute our modern world. e
final result is that “Wahhabi influence has added a dimension of
oppressiveness and vehemence to contemporary Muslim life that
frequently borders on the morbid.”87
233
Karen Armstrong reaes a similar conclusion. She notes that a
whole generation of Muslims, therefore, [have] grown up with a maveri form of Islam
that has given them a negative view of other faiths and an intolerantly sectarian
understanding of their own. While not extremist per se, this is an outlook in whi
radicalism can develop.88
And it has. If you are a young Muslim in Karai, Cairo, Toronto, or
London today, keen on connecting with your religious heritage, the
likelihood of exposure to a Wahhabi-influenced version of Islam is
high. Conversely, the possibility of exposure to an ethical and
humanistic interpretation of Islam, a form that dominated most of
Islamic history allowing it to expand and aract new followers, is
low. Part of the allenge of combating ISIS is to reverse this
equation.
234
Conclusion
e ISIS crisis is a manifestation of the broken politics of the Middle
East. ese broken politics are a direct result of an ongoing series of
human rights crises and democracy-deficits that have plagued the
region for decades. ese social and political conditions have
contributed to the rise and expansion of radical Islamist
insurgencies, of whi ISIS is the most recent iteration.
In this context, Iraq and Syria are unique. Among the 22 members
of the Arab League, these two countries have been most adversely
affected by the consequences that flow from political despotism, war,
and state collapse. It is precisely for these reasons that ISIS was able
to set up its “Islamic state” in this specific part of the Islamic world
and not in other regions.
e war in Syria, now into its sixth year, has been a key
contributing factor in the rise of ISIS. Without a resolution of this
war, it is difficult to envision an end to the ISIS crisis. us, it is in
this sense that all roads lead to Damascus. ISIS was reconstituted in
the context of the horrors of the Syrian war, and its ultimate fate will
be determined in Syria.
But ISIS also has intellectual and theological roots that can be
traced ba to a specific part of the Arab-Islamic world—the
Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. e cultivation of a specific puritanical
interpretation of Sunni Islam, known as Wahhabism, by the Saudi
state is a core feature of the ISIS crisis that is oen ignored. We are
witnessing today the consequences of the promulgation and
mainstreaming of Wahhabi Islam on a global scale. Masquerading as
normative Islam, this ultraconservative interpretation of religion has
produced an ethical crisis in Muslim societies that has been
exacerbated by the Middle East’s broken politics. Exposure to more
235
humanistic interpretations of Islam could have could limited ISIS’
rea. Young Muslims frustrated by the dire social conditions of
their societies have anneled their anger and frustration into
Wahhabi Islam, whi claims to provide utopian solutions to the
problems of the modern world. Rising Islamophobia in the West and
the double standards of Western foreign policy, particularly with
regard to the Israel-Palestine conflict, has allowed religious
extremism to flourish.
e crisis now facing the Arab-Islamic world was to be expected.
Sixteen years ago, a series of U.N. Arab Human Development
Reports, wrien by a team of leading Arab social scientists, forecast
and predicted the deep crisis facing the region while hinting at a
coming political explosion.
e Arab Human Development Report 2002: Creating
Opportunities for Future Generations observed that the Arab world
was at a crossroads. “e region is hampered by three key deficits
that can be considered defining features: the freedom deficit; the
women’s empowerment deficit [and] the human
capabilities/knowledge deficit relative to income.” Compared with
the rest of the world,
e Arab Countries had the lowest freedom score in the 1990s and when measured by
indicators su as political process, civil liberties, political rights and a free media the
Arab region … [had] the lowest value of all regions of the world for voice and
accountability.89
In terms of the status of women, “applying the UNDP gender
empowerment measure (GEM) to Arab countries [revealed] that the
laer suffer[ed] a glaring deficit in women’s empowerment. Among
the regions of the world, the Arab region ranks next to last as
measured by GEM; only sub-Saharan Africa has a lower score.”90
e Arab Human Development Report 2004: Towards Freedom in
the Arab World, focused on the themes of good governance, political
reform, and civil liberties. It concluded that political and civil rights,
236
popular participation, representative institutions, the political
accountability of leadership, the rule of law, the equal treatment of
citizens and the existence of an independent judiciary, were all in
short supply. As a result, the “Arab development crisis has widened,
deepened and grown more complex.”91 Its main beneficiary has been
religious extremism.
One day ISIS might be defeated militarily. But as long as the social
conditions that gave rise to ISIS remain in place, future instability
and violence can be expected. As the journalist and public
intellectual Rami Khouri has presciently observed:
ere is only one antidote in the long run to eliminating the Islamic State and all it
represents. at is to stop pursuing the abusive and criminal policies that have
demeaned millions of decent Arab men and women and shaped Arab countries for the
past half a century. Bombing Iraq and Syria will gain some time and probably must
happen in combination with serious military action by local Arab and Kurdish forces.
However, if the ways of the corrupt modern Arab security state is not radically
reversed, the mass desperation and hysteria that the Islamic State represents will only
re-emerge again in more extreme forms, in the years to come.92
237
Notes
1 For a succinct baground see Charles Lister, The Islamic State: A Brief Introduction
(Washington DC: Brookings Institution, 2015); William McCants, The ISIS Apocalypse:
The History, Strategy, and Doomsday Vision of the Islamic State (New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 2015); and Fawaz Gerges, ISIS: A History (Princeton: Princeton University Press,
2016).
2 Malcolm Kerr, The Arab Cold War: Gamal ‘Abd al-Nasir and His Rivals, 1958–1970
(London: Oxford University Press, 1971) and Majid Khadurri and Edmund Ghareeb,
War in the Gulf, 1990–1991: The Iraq-Kuwait Conflict and its Implications (New York:
Oxford University Press, 2001).
3 Yezid Sayigh (2014) “Are the Sykes-Picot Borders Being Redrawn?” Carnegie Middle East
Center, June 26, 2014, hp://carnegie-mec.org/publications/?fa=56007 (accessed
September 4, 2016).
4 Rukmini Callimai, “ISIS Enshrines a eology of Rape,” New York Times, August 13,
2015; Ni Cumming-Bruce, “United Nations Investigators Accuse ISIS of Genocide over
Aas on Yazidis,” New York Times, Mar 19, 2015; United Nation Human Rights
Council, “Report of the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human
Rights on the human rights situation in Iraq in the light of abuses commied by the so-
called Islamic State in Iraq and the Levant and associated groups,” Mar 13, 2015,
A/HCR/28/18.
5 U.S. State Department, “e Global Coalition to Counter ISIL,” www.state.gov/s/seci/
(accessed September 4, 2016).
6 Eric Smi and Miael R. Gordon, “U.S. Aims to Put More Pressure on ISIS in Syria,”
New York Times, October 4, 2015. Military figures from August 8, 2014 to November 30,
2015 from U.S. Department of Defense, “Operation Inherent Resolve,”
www.defense.gov/News/Special-Reports/0814_Inherent-Resolve (accessed September 4,
2016).
238
7 Karen Yourish, Derek Watkins, Tom Giratikanon, “Where ISIS Has Directed and Inspired
Aas Around the World,” New York Times, August 20, 2015,
www.nytimes.com/interactive/2015/06/17/world/middleeast/map-isis-aas-around-
the-world.html and Ash Gallagher, “IS Growing in numbers, money,” Al Monitor, June
8, 2015, www.al-monitor.com/pulse/originals/2015/06/islamic-state-expand-influence-
africa-iraq-syria.html?utm_source=Al- and e Soufan Group, Foreign Fighters: An
Update Assessment of the Flow of Foreign Fighters into Iraq and Syria, December 2015,
hp://soufangroup.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/TSG_ForeignFightersUpdate1
(accessed September 4, 2016).
8 Gretel Kauffman, “FBI Director: Why ISIS is a Bigger reat to the US than Al Qaeda,”
Christian Science Monitor, July 23, 2015, www.csmonitor.com/USA/USA-
Update/2015/0723/FBI-Director-Why-ISIS-is-a-bigger-threat-to-the-US-than-Al-Qaeda-
video (accessed September 4, 2016).
9 Aaron Mehta, “Odierno: ISIS Fight Will Last ‘10 to 20 Years’,”
www.defensenews.com/story/defense/2015/07/17/odierno-isis-fight-last-10-20-
years/30295949/ (accessed September 4, 2016); Susan Page, “Panea: ‘30-Year War’ and
Leadership Test for Obama,” USA Today, October 6, 2014,
www.usatoday.com/story/news/politics/2014/10/06/leon-panea-memoir-worthy-
fights/16737615/ (accessed September 4, 2016) and Stephen Castle, “Tunisia Aa Will
Get ‘Full Spectrum’ Response, British Leader Vows,” New York Times, June 29, 2015
(accessed September 4, 2016).
10 CNN Documentary, The Long Road to Hell: America in Iraq, October 26, 2015,
www.cnn.com/TRANSCRIPTS/1510/26/csr.01.html. He also observed that: “Islam never
experienced something akin to the Reformation in Europe; the lines between the sacred
and the secular are unclear and contested.” See Riard Haass, “e Next irty Years
War,” Project Syndicate, July 21, 2014, www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/riard-
n–haass-argues-that-the-middleeast-is-less-a-problem-to-be-solved-than-a-condition-
to-be-managed#YctL2boFJBv61EjZ.99 (accessed September 4, 2016).
11 “Statement by the President on Syria,” August 31, 2013 and “Remarks of President Bara
Obama – State of the Union Address,” January 12, 2016. Both are available at:
www.whitehouse.gov (accessed September 4, 2016).
239
12 Ezi Basaran, “Former CIA officer says US policies helped create IS,” Al Monitor,
September 2, 2014, www.al-monitor.com/pulse/politics/2014/09/turkey-usa-iraq-syria-
isis-fuller.html#ixzz3wrjQVDyG (accessed September 4, 2016).
13 See the annual reports by Freedom House, hps://freedomhouse.org/reports (accessed
September 4, 2016).
14 S.V.R. Nasr, “European Colonialism and the Emergence of Modern Muslim States,” in
John Esposito ed., The Oxford History of Islam (New York: Oxford University Press,
1999), 549–600.
15 Rex Brynen, Bahgat Korany and Paul Noble, “eoretical Perspectives on Arab
Liberalization and Democratization,” in Rex Brynen, Bahgat Korany and Paul Noble eds,
Political Liberalization & Democratization in the Arab World, Volume 1 (Boulder:
Lynne Rienner, 1995), 3–27; Alfred Stepan and Graeme B. Robertson, “An ‘Arab’ More
an a ‘Muslim’ Democracy Gap,” Journal of Democracy 14 (2003), 30–44; Eva Bellin,
“e Robustness of Authoritarianism in the Middle East: Exceptionalism in
Comparative Perspective,” Comparative Politics 36 (January 2004), 139–157; Larry
Diamond, “Why Are ere No Arab Democracies?” Journal of Democracy 21 (January
2010), 93–104.
16 Eqbal Ahmad, “e Neofascist State: Notes on the Pathology of Power in the ird
World,” in Carollee Bengelsdorf, Margaret Cerullo, and Yogesh Chandrani eds, The
Selected Writings of Eqbal Ahmad (New York: Columbia University Press, 2006), 142.
17 Ibid., 143.
18 Ibid., 146.
19 Libya under Qaddafi and Tunisia under Ben Ali would also fit this description. For more
on the general theme of authoritarian regimes in the Arab World, see Roger Owen,
State, Power and Politics in the Making of the Modern Middle East, 3rd edition (New
York: Routledge, 2004), 22–78.
20 Human Rights Wat, Genocide in Iraq: The Anfal Campaign against the Kurd, July
1993, www.hrw.org/reports/1993/iraqanfal/ANFALINT.htm.
21 Statement by Max van der Stoel, Special Rapporteur for the United Nations on Iraq
before the U.N. Human Rights Commission on Mar 2, 1993. Cited by Kanan Makiya,
240
Republic of Fear: The Politics of Modern Iraq, updated edition (Berkeley, CA: University
of California Press, 1998), xiii. Also see Kevin M. Woods, David D. Palkki and Mark E.
Stout eds, The Saddam Tapes: The Inner Workings of a Tyrant’s Regime 1978–2001
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011) and Aaron Faust, The Ba`athification of
Iraq: Saddam Hussein’s Totalitarianism (Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 2015).
22 Nihad Sirees, The Silence and the Roar, translated by Max Weiss (New York: Other Press,
2013), 32, 53.
23 Human Rights Wat, Syria’s Tadmor Prison, April 1, 1996,
www.hrw.org/reports/1996/04/01/syrias-tadmor-prison. For baground see Miel
Seurat, Syrie: l’ É`tat de Barbarie (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2012), Alan
George, Syria: Neither Bread nor Freedom (London: Zed Books, 2003) and Yassin al Haj
Saleh, Récrits d`une Syrie Oubliée: Sortir la mémoire des prisons (Paris: Les Prairies
Ordinaires, 2015).
24 Human Rights Wat, If the Dead Could Speak: Mass Deaths and Torture in Syria’s
Detention Facilities, December 16, 2015, www.hrw.org/reports/1996/04/01/syrias-
tadmor-prison and Amnesty International, “Between Prison and the Grave: Enforced
Disappearance in Syria,” November 5, 2015,
www.amnesty.org/en/documents/mde24/2579/2015/en/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
25 Robert Putnam, Making Democracy Work: Civic Traditions in Italy (Princeton: Princeton
University Press, 1994), 121–85 and Sonja Zmerli and Ken Newton, “Social Trust and
Aitudes Toward Democracy,” The Public Opinion Quarterly 72 (Winter, 2008), 706–24.
26 On the nature of the Arab state and its fundamental weakness, see Nazih Ayubi, Over-
stating the Arab State: Politics and Society in the Middle East (New York: I.B. Tauris,
2009), 447–59.
27 Pierre Razoux, The Iran-Iraq War, trans. Niolas Ellio (Cambridge, MA: Harvard
University Press, 2015), 569, 573; Joy Gordon, Invisible War: The United States and Iraq
Sanction (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2012), 86–102 and John Tirman,
The Deaths of Others: The Fate of Civilians in America’s War (New York: Oxford
University Press, 2012), 192–267.
28 United Nations Human Rights Office of the High Commissioner, Report on the
Protection of Civilians in the Armed Conflict in Iraq, 1 May–31 October 2015,
241
www.ohr.org/Documents/Countries/IQ/UNAMIReport1May31October2015
(accessed September 4, 2016).
29 Griff Wie, “New U.N. Report says World’s Refugee Crisis is Worse than Anyone
Suspected,” Washington Post, June 18, 2015.
30 Failing Syria: Assessing the Impact of UN Security Council Resolutions in Protecting and
Assisting Civilians in Syria (2015),
www.oxfam.org/sites/www.oxfam.org/files/file_aaments/bp-failing-syria-unsc-
resolution-120315-en1 and United National Development Report, Alienation and
Violence: Impact of Syria Crisis Report 2014 (UNDP/Syria Center for Policy Resear,
Mar 2015),
www.unrwa.org/sites/default/files/alienation_and_violence_impact_of_the_syria_crisis
_in_2014_eng (accessed September 4, 2016).
31 United National Development Report, Alienation and Violence: Impact of Syria Crisis
Report 2014 (UNDP/Syria Center for Policy Resear, Mar 2015), 6 and Strategic
Needs Analysis Project, Regional Analysis: Syria, www.acaps.org/img/reports/p-
regional-analysis-for-syria—part-a-overview-and-sectoral-analysis-oct-dec-2014
(accessed September 4, 2016).
32 Ri Gladstone, “U.N. Refugee Official Calls Situation in Syria and Iraq ‘Unsustainable’,”
New York Times, April 24, 2015 and Internal Displacement Monitor, Global Overview
2015, www.internal-displacement.org/global-overview (accessed September 4, 2016).
33 Hasan Abu Hanieh and Mohammad Abu Rumman, The “Islamic State” Organization:
The Sunni Crisis and the Struggle for Global Jihadism (Amman: Friedri Ebert Stiung,
2015), 164; Sarah Leah Whitson, “Why ISIS is Winning,” February 18, 2015,
www.hrw.org/news/2015/02/18/why-fight-against-isis-failing; William McCants, The
ISIS Apocalypse: The History, Strategy, and Doomsday Vision of the Islamic State (New
York: St. Martin’s Press, 2015), 125. For baground see Fanar Haddad, “Shia-Centric
State Building and Sunni Rejection in Post-2003 Iraq,” Carnegie Endowment for
International Peace, January 7, 2016 (accessed September 4, 2016).
34 Ann Barnard and Tim Arango, “Using Violence and Persuasion, ISIS Makes Political
Gains,” New York Times, June 3, 2015.
242
35 Liz Sly, “Petraeus: e Islamic State Isn’t Our Biggest Problem in Iraq,” Washington Post,
Mar 20, 2015.
36 is point has been belatedly anowledged by President Obama, “Goal is to Shrink
Islamic State Operations: Obama,” Reuters, November 15, 2015.
37 e Editors, “On ISIS,” Middle East Report, no. 276 (Fall 2015),
www.merip.org/mer/mer276/isis (accessed September 4, 2016).
38 William McCants, The ISIS Apocalypse: The History, Strategy and Doomsday Vision of
The Islamic State (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 2015), 42–5 and Fawaz Gerges, ISIS: A
History (Princeton: Princeton University Press, forthcoming, 2016), apters two and
three. Aas on civilians were at their lowest levels during this time period.
39 Robin Yassin-Kassab and Leila Al-Shami, Burning Country: Syrians in Revolution and
War (London: Pluto Books, 2016), 35–76; Samer Abboud, Syria (London: Polity Books,
2015), 48–82 and Paolo Gabriel Hilo Pinto, “Syria,” in Paul Amar and Vijay Prashad eds,
Dispatches from the Arab Spring: Understanding the New Middle East (Minneapolis,
MN: University of Minnesota Press, 2013), 204–42.
40 William McCants, The ISIS Apocalypse: The History, Strategy and Doomsday Vision of
The Islamic State, 85–86 and Peter Neumann, “Suspects into Collaborators,” London
Review of Books, April 3, 2014, www.lrb.co.uk/v36/n07/peter-neumann/suspects-into-
collaborators (accessed September 4, 2016).
41 ese reports, covering the first three years, can be found here:
www.du.edu/korbel/middleeast/syria.html (accessed September 4, 2016).
42 Syria Network for Human Rights, “e Main Conflict Parties Who are Killing Civilians
in Syria: Civilian Death Toll up to End of October 2015,” November 19, 2015,
hp://sn4hr.org/wp-content/pdf/english/Who_Are_Killing_Civilians_in_Syria_en
(accessed September 4, 2016).
43 U.N. Secretary-General, “Statement on Syria,” Mar 12, 2014, www.un.org/sg/
statements/?nid=7520 (accessed September 4, 2016).
44 On Syria’s under reported Rape Crisis see Lauren Wolfe, “Syria Has a Massive Rape
Crisis,” e Atlantic, April 3, 2013,
243
www.theatlantic.com/international/arive/2013/04/syria-has-a-massive-rape-
crisis/274583/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
45 U.S. Department of Defense, “Secretary of Defense Testimony: Statement on Iraq, Syria,
and ISIL Before the Senate Armed Services Commiee,” September 16, 2014,
www.defense.gov/News/Speees/Spee-View/Article/605607/statement-on-iraq-syria-
and-isil-before-the-senate-armed-services-commiee (accessed September 4, 2016).
46 John Mearsheimer, “America Unhinged,” The National Interest, no. 129 (January–
February 2014), 10.
47 Interview on Radio Open Source with Christopher Lydon, February 28, 2014. For a more
detailed critique of realism and Syria see Roger Cohen, “e Limits of American
Realism,” New York Times, January 11, 2016 and Muhammad Idrees Ahmad, “Syria and
Surrealism,” Los Angeles Review of Books, December 22, 2015.
48 Mark Lander, “Rice Offers a More Modest Strategy for Mideast,” New York Times,
October 26, 2013 and Marc Lyn, “Obama and the Middle East: Rightsizing the U.S.
Role,” Foreign Affairs 94 (September/October 2015), 18–27.
49 Rania Abouzeid, “e Jihad Next Door: e Syrian Roots of Iraq’s Newest Civil War,”
Politico Magazine, June 23, 2014, www.politico.com/magazine/story/2014/06/al-qaeda-
iraq-syria-108214.html#.VPpI5fnF9qV (accessed September 4, 2016).
50 Ni Cumming-Bruce, “U.N. Investigators Cite Atrocities in Syria,” New York Times,
September 16, 2014.
51 is draws upon a long tradition going ba to the Enlightenment where thinkers su
as Immanuel Kant, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, omas Paine and Alexis de Tocqueville
have advanced variations of this argument. According to George Kateb, the goal of
Rousseau’s democratic project is justice. “Rousseau’s Political ought,” Political Science
Quarterly 76 (December 1964), 519–43.
52 Nelly Lahoud with Muhammad al-`Ubaydi, Jihadi Discourse in the Wake of the Arab
Spring (Combaing Terrorism Center at West Point, 2013).
53 Cited by Mona El-Ghobashy, “e Metamorphosis of the Egyptian Muslim Brothers,”
International Journal of Middle East Studies 37 (August 2005), 390–1.
244
54 Jean-Pierre Filiu, From Deep State to Islamic State: The Arab Counter-Revolution and its
Jihadi Legacy (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 177–83 and Guido Steinberg,
Leading the Counter-Revolution: Saudi Arabia and the Arab Spring (Berlin: SWP
Resear Paper, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, June 2014).
55 Human Rights Wat, “Egypt: Establish International Inquiry into Rab`a Massacre,”
August 14, 2015, www.hrw.org/news/2015/08/14/egypt-establish-international-inquiry-
raba-massacre and “Egypt: Rab`a Killings Likely Crimes against Humanity,” August 12,
2014, www.hrw.org/news/2014/08/12/egypt-raba-killings-likely-crimes-against-
humanity (accessed September 4, 2016).
56 Robert Kagan and Mielle Dunne, “Obama embraces the Nixon Doctrine in Egypt,”
Washington Post, April 3, 2015; Human Rights Wat, “Egypt: Human Rights in Sharp
Decline,” January 29, 2015, www.hrw.org/news/2015/01/29/egypt-human-rights-sharp-
decline; Amnesty International, “Death Sentences and Executions 2014,” Mar 31, 2015,
www.amnestyusa.org/resear/reports/death-sentences-and-executions-2014 (accessed
September 4, 2016).
57 Marc Lyn, “e Endless Recurrence of the Clash of Civilizations,” The Monkey Cage
(Washington Post blog) November 20, 2015, www.washingtonpost.com/news/monkey-
cage/wp/2015/11/20/the-endless-recurrence-of-the-clash-of-civilizations/ (accessed
September 4, 2016).
58 Borzou Daragahi, “e Arab Idealist who dies for ISIS,” Financial Times, December 2,
2014; Emad Shahin, “Four Traits, Sisi, Hitler and Mussolini Have in Common,” Middle
East Eye, June 6, 2015, hp://emadshahin.com/?p=1916 (accessed September 4, 2016).
59 David Kirkpatri, “U.S. Citizen, Once Held in Egypt’s Cradown, Becomes Voices for
Inmates,” New York Times, August 28, 2015.
60 Samira Shale, “Mohammad Soltan, the Egyptian Activist who spent 400 Days on
Hunger Strike in Prison,” The New Statesman, October 28, 2015,
www.newstatesman.com/world/middleeast/2015/10/mohamed-soltan-egyptian-activist-
who-spent-400-days-hunger-strike-prison and Murtaza Hussain, “ISIS Recruitment
rives in Brutal Prisons Run by U.S.-baed Egypt,” The Intercept, November 24, 2015,
hps://theintercept.com/2015/11/24/isis-recruitment-thrives-in-brutal-prisons-run-by-u-
s-baed-egypt/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
245
61 Fareed Zakaria, “From Tunisia, a Voice of Hope from the Muslim World,” Washington
Post, October 29, 2015. Also see Raed Ghannoui, “Fight ISIS with Democracy,” The
Atlantic, February 1, 2016, www.theatlantic.com/international/arive/2016/02/tunisia-
democracy-ennahdha-isis/458703/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
62 John F. Kennedy, “Address on the First Anniversary of the Alliance for Progress,” Mar
13, 1962.
63 Khaled Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God: Reclaiming Shari`ah in the Modern World
(Lanham, MD: Rowman & Lilefield, 2014), 115.
64 Miael Crawford, Ibn ‘Abd al-Wahhab (Oxford: Oneworld Publications, 2014), 47–71
and Khaled Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God, 227–51.
65 Khaled Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God, 229.
66 Ibid., 232.
67 Muhammad Masud, Armando Salvatore, Martin van Bruinessen eds, Islam and
Modernity: Key Issues and Debates (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2009).
68 Bernard Haykel, “On the Nature of Salafi ought and Action,” in Global Salafism:
Islam’s New Religious Movement in Roel Meijer (London: Hurst, 2009), 38–9; Khaled
Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God, 251–70.
69 Madawi Al-Rasheed, A History of Saudi Arabia, 2nd edition (Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2010), 13–68 and Ben Hubbard, “Saudis Turn Birthplace of Wahhabism
Ideology into Tourist Spot,” New York Times, May 31, 2015.
70 Khaled Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God, 237.
71 Ben Hubbard and Mayy El Sheikh, “Wikileaks Shows Saudi Obsession with Iran,” New
York Times, July 16, 2015. Also see David Commins, The Wahhabi Mission and Saudi
Arabia (New York: I.B. Tauris, 2009), 158–78.
72 Khaled Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God, 243.
73 Masha Gessen, The Brothers: The Road to An American Tragedy (New York: Riverhead
Books, 2015), 48–50 and her interview on National Public Radio, “Tracing the Roots of
‘e Brothers’ and the Roots of the Boston Marathon Bombing,” April 7, 2015. Also see
246
Alissa de Carbonnel and Stephanie Simon, “Special Report: e radicalization of
Tamerlane Tsarnaev,” Reuters, April 23, 2013.
74 Leo Cendrowicz, “Paris Aas: How the Influence of Saudi Arabia Sowed the Seeds of
Radicalism in Belgium,” The Independent, November 23, 2015.
75 Ibid. Also see Odile Leherte, “Dossier Alabri: la Belgique a fait pression sur l`Arabie
Saoudite,” August 12, 2015, www.rtbf.be/info/societe/detail_mosquee-du-
cinquantenaire-la-belgique-a-fait-pression-sur-l-arabie-saoudite?id=9052178.
76 Mehree Zahra-Malik, “Pakistan in California Shooting became hardline in Saudi Arabia:
relations,” Reuters, December 5, 2015.
77 Declan Walsh, “Tashfeen Malik Was a ‘Saudi Girl’ Who Stood Out at a Pakistani
University,” New York Times, December 6, 2015.
78 Ibid.
79 Human Rights Wat, “Saudi Arabia: Surge in Executions,” August 21, 2014.
80 “Executions in Saudi Arabia at a 20-year high, says Amnesty International,” The
Guardian, November 9, 2015 and Human Rights Wat, “Saudi Arabia: Mass Execution
Largest since 1980,” January 4, 2016.
81 A translation of the document can be found at:
hps://pietervanostaeyen.wordpress.com/2014/12/16/an-official-islamic-state-statement-
on-shari-punishments/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
82 Rori Donaghy and Mary Atkinson, “Crime and Punishment: e Islamic State vs Saudi
Arabia,” January 20, 2015, www.middleeasteye.net/news/crime-and-punishment-
islamic-state-vs-saudi-arabia-1588245666 (accessed September 4, 2016).
83 Patri Coburn, “Isis Militants: Twier Provides one of the Few Forums in whi
Saudis can Discuss What ey Really Feel – and it says they Blame the Clergy for Isis,”
The Independent, October 4, 2014 and Karen Armstrong, “Wahhabism to ISIS: How
Saudi Arabia Exported the Main Source of Global Terrorism,” New Statesman,
November 27, 2014. Also see Madawi Al-Rasheed, “e Shared History of Saudi Arabia
and ISIS,” November 28, 2014, www.hurstpublishers.com/the-shared-history-of-saudi-
arabia-and-isis/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
247
84 Toby Mahieusen, “e West’s Alliance with Saudi Arabia Fuels Islamism,” New York
Times, December 8, 2015 and William McCants, The ISIS Apocalypse, 151.
85 J.M. Berger and J. Morgan, “e ISIS Twier Consensus: Defining and Describing the
Population of ISIS Supporters on Twier,” Brookings Institution, Mar 2015,
www.brookings.edu/resear/papers/2015/03/isis-twier-census-berger-morgan
(accessed September 4, 2016).
86 “Saudis Most Likely to Join ISIS, 10 Percent of Group’s Fighters are Women,” Middle East
Monitor, October 20, 2014 and Munira Ahudab, “Saudis Carried Out 60 Percent of
Suicide Aas for ISIS in Iraq,” Al Hayat, October 16, 2014.
87 Khaled Abou El Fadl, Reasoning with God, 217.
88 Karen Armstrong, “Wahhabism to ISIS: How Saudi Arabia Exported the Main Source of
Global Terrorism,” New Statesman, November 27, 2014.
89 United Nations Development Program, Arab Development Report 2002: Creating
Opportunities for Future Generations (New York: United Nations Development
Program, 2002), 27.
90 Ibid., 28.
91 United Nations Development Program, Arab Development Report 2004: Towards
Freedom in the Arab World (New York: United Nations Development Program, 2004), 5.
92 Rami Khouri, “Antidote to the Islamic State reat,” August 27, 2014,
www.agenceglobal.com/index.php?show=article&Tid=2763 (accessed September 4,
2016).
248
Selected Bibliography
Abou El Fadl, Khaled. Reasoning with God: Reclaiming Shari`ah in
the Modern World. Lanham, MD: Rowman and Lilefield, 2014.
Al Haj Saleh, Yassin. Récrits d`une Syrie Oubliée: Sortir la mémoire
des prisons. Paris: Les Prairies Ordinaires, 2015.
Al-Rasheed, Madawi. A History of Saudi Arabia, 2nd edition.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010.
Armstrong, Karen. “Wahhabism to ISIS: How Saudi Arabia Exported
the Main Source of Global Terrorism.” New Statesman,
November 27, 2014.
Filiu, Jean-Pierre. From Deep State to Islamic State: The Arab
Counter-Revolution and its Jihadi Legacy. New York: Oxford
University Press, 2015.
Gerges, Fawaz. ISIS: A History. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University
Press, 2016.
Khouri, Rami. “Antidote to the Islamic State reat.” Agence Global,
August 27, 2014. Available at www.agenceglobal.com/index.php?
show=article&Tid=2763 (accessed February 3, 2016).
Lister, Charles. The Islamic State: A Brief Introduction. Washington
DC: Brookings Institution, 2015.
McCants, William. The ISIS Apocalypse: The History, Strategy, and
Doomsday Vision of the Islamic State. New York: St. Martin’s
Press, 2015.
Makiya, Kanan. Republic of Fear: The Politics of Modern Iraq,
updated edition. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press,
1998.
Nasr, S.V.R. “European Colonialism and the Emergence of Modern
Muslim States.” In The Oxford History of Islam. John Esposito,
ed., 549–600. New York: Oxford University Press, 1999.
249
Owen, Roger. State, Power and Politics in the Making of the Modern
Middle East, 3rd edition. New York: Routledge, 2004.
United Nations Development Program. Arab Development Report
2004: Towards Freedom in the Arab World. New York: United
Nations Development Program, 2004.
Yassin-Kassab, Robin and Leila Al-Shami. Burning Country: Syrians
in Revolution and War. London: Pluto Books, 2016.
250
7
e Impact of the AKP on Human
Rights in Turkey
One step forward, two steps ba
Turan Kayaoglu1
251
Introduction
e Justice and Development Party (Adalet ve Kalkınma Partisi,
AKP), a moderate Islamist party, has ruled Turkey since 2002. e
party emerged as a splinter party from the (Islamist) Virtue Party in
2001, whi was dissolved by the Turkish Constitutional Court for
alleged anti-secular activities and some of its leaders were banned
from politics. Frustrated with the old guard, the Virtue’s Young
Turks established the AKP. e new party won three subsequent
elections and ruled Turkey from 2002 to 2015 – the period focused on
in this apter – in a single-party government. In 2015, the party lost
its majority, but still remained the biggest party in parliament.
From economy to ideology and from foreign policy to civil-
military relations, AKP rule has transformed Turkey; a ange that is
comparable to the Kemalist transformation of the country in the
early decades of the republic. e Kemalist top-down revolution
created resentment and caused a reaction from below, especially
among the pious and Kurds. Turning the tables against Kemalists,
these groups brought the AKP into power and set the stage for a
revolution from below.2 e impact of this revolution on human
rights has received surprisingly lile aention.3
is apter examines the impact of AKP rule on human rights in
Turkey in order to assess whether the AKP has fostered or hindered
human rights and democracy in Turkey. e apter investigates this
issue in several ways. First, it describes the human rights framework
and situation in Turkey in the decade before the AKP. Second, it
assesses the AKP’s reforms with a particular focus on Kurdish rights
and religious freedom during the AKP’s 2002–7 rule, linking these
reforms to Turkey’s human rights and democracy problems in the
decade previous to AKP rule. ird, it discusses how the AKP lost its
252
appetite for reform in its second term but still managed to limit the
influence of the military in Turkish politics and combat military
impunity. Finally, the apter examines the AKP’s third and most
controversial term when the party diminished protections for human
rights and democracy. All this presaged and made unsurprising the
more explicit authoritarianism that emerged in the wake of 2016’s
unsuccessful coup.
is apter will show that the AKP’s human rights record has
been on a downward spiral even before 2016: in its first term, it was
progressive; in the second, stagnant; in the third, repressive. On
some issues, su as minority rights, Sunni Muslims’ religious rights,
and economic and social rights, the party was progressive; on other
broader issues, su as women’s rights, freedom of spee, and the
rule of law, it was regressive. As many political scientists might have
predicted, the AKP’s aitude towards human rights and democracy
was motivated more by political interest rather than by a genuine
commitment to human rights or democracy. Its human rights
reforms mostly helped its constituencies; when the reforms were not
in the interest of the party, the AKP quily jeisoned its human
rights agenda.
e ups and downs of human rights in Turkey under the AKP
show the selective acceptance and tactical use of human rights by
Islamist parties. e AKP’s authoritarian turn questions the
inclusion-moderation thesis for whi AKP once was a poster-ild.
is theory suggested that the inclusion of Islamist political parties
in the political process would moderate them. Electoral pressures
would lead them to avoid extremes and push them to embrace basic
rights and pluralism. Moreover, the need to solve everyday problems
—fixing the potholes—would force them to shi their focus away
from radical social and political agendas. While many solars
stopped short of predicting long-term ideological transformation, the
implication of the inclusion-moderation literature was clear:
learning from their experience of exclusion and repression and
253
playing with the rules of electoral politics, these Muslim democrats
would take positions to expand freedom and human rights for
everyone.
e AKP experience, however, shows that Islamist parties’
electoral success may lead to tactical and selective gains for human
rights but without institutional meanisms and internalization of
human rights by party elites these human rights gains are easily
reversible. As Shadi Hamid argues, while electoral success can lead
to a majoritarian rule, it does not necessarily lead to liberal
democracy, especially when the rights of minorities are unpopular
among the majority.4 In the case of the AKP, populism combined
with Islamism trumped human rights concerns, whi were
priorities for liberal elites, minorities, and international actors. e
AKP has used the rhetoric of human rights when it needed to rea
liberal elites, minorities, and international actors not only to win
elections but also to strengthen its position vis-à-vis other domestic
actors, su as the military whi has been anti-Islamist and has
significant formal and informal influence over state institutions and
part of civil society. Once the AKP and its allies effectively curtailed
the influence of the military, the party jeisoned its human rights
agenda, reversed some of its own reforms, and introduced policies
limiting human rights. Apart from the interests of its core
constituencies—Islamists—the AKP was not interested in human
rights in general and merely adopted the language of human rights
and democracy tactically to win the elections and to gain the
support of liberal domestic and international actors and thus gain
the upper hand over unelected but powerful groups, su as the
military.
254
e rights framework in Turkey
Turkey has a strong rights framework grounded in internal and
external protections. Internally, aer the basic principles, the Turkish
constitution specifies rights in three lengthy sections, protecting
fundamental rights (Articles 12–40), social and economic rights
(Articles 41–65) and political rights (Articles 66–74),5 seing an
expansive understanding of rights. e constitution also recognizes
the authority of international human rights treaties over domestic
jurisdiction (Article 90). Additionally, Turkey has ratified all of the
major international treaties on human rights.6 By recognizing the
legitimacy of the international human rights framework the
constitution strengthens Turkey’s rights protections.
Turkey has a strong civil society in whi several human rights
organizations have played major roles in advancing human rights
discourse and practices. e Human Rights Association (İnsan
Hakları Derneği, IHD), whi focuses on le-wing political prisoners
and Kurdish rights, is the most influential human rights NGO in
Turkey; it has 29 branes and over 10,000 members and activists.7
Among other important NGOs are the Association for Human
Rights and the Oppressed (İnsan Hakları ve Mazlumlarla Dayanışma
Derneği, Mazlumder),8 whose 28 branes focus on right-wing
political prisoners and the religious rights of Sunni Muslims, and the
Human Rights Foundation of Turkey (Türkiye İnsan Hakları Vakfı,
TIHV), whi focuses on combating torture and helping torture
victims.9 Unlike similar NGOs in the West, these organizations work
closely with social movements rather than relying on litigation. For
example, IHD works in tandem with Kurds and Mazlumder
cooperates with Islamists; the organizations also rely on media
affiliated with these social movements. e extent to whi these
255
groups and social movements are able to make ange oen depends
on finding support among politicians and officials.10
It is not Turkey’s internal meanisms for human rights, however,
that set it apart in the Middle East and North Africa (MENA), but,
rather, its external ones. Turkey is party to the European Convention
on Human Rights and is thus under the jurisdiction of the European
Court of Human Rights (ECtHR). Hoping to burnish the country’s
Western image on the eve of the Cold War and to secure the
country’s secular aracter, Turkish leaders participated in the
discussions that led to the creation of the Council of Europe.11 In
1987, Turkey assented to the right of individuals to petition the
ECtHR when their complaints exhausted the remedies available in
the Turkish domestic legal system. Turkey has consistently had a
high number of cases in the court’s doet although its effect
remained limited until 1989 when Turkey accepted the compulsory
jurisdiction of the ECtHR.12
Turkey’s membership application to the European Union provides
a second European dimension for human rights protections in
Turkey. While the Turkish membership process has been uneven—
alternating between periods of excitement and activity and periods
of skepticism and stalemate—the European Union’s demands have
triggered or facilitated the advancement of human rights in Turkey.
is was especially true in the years following 1999, when Turkey
was officially named an EU candidate country. Concerns about
human rights and democracy have played a significant role in
advance of membership negotiations and the EU asked Turkey to
fulfill a set of prerequisites known as the Copenhagen Criteria,
whi include expectations about democracy and human rights,
before these negotiations could begin. e EU is particularly
sensitive to minority rights, especially as concerns the Kurds’
freedom of thought, expression, assembly, and due process rights.
However, the EU’s influence on economic and social rights has been
256
limited—in fact, when the EU pushes for economic liberalization, its
effect may be harmful to labor rights.13
e U.S. is another external actor with influence on human rights
in Turkey. Turkey became a NATO member in 1952. is close
alliance has allowed the U.S. to have leverage, albeit limited, over
Turkey on issues related to democracy and human rights although
paradoxically, it has also meant U.S. administrations are hesitant to
criticize Turkey’s human rights publicly. Nevertheless, this alliance
has been instrumental in seing the expectation that the military
will transfer authority to civilian governments aer military coups
in Turkey. Unlike the hesitancy of U.S. presidents, the U.S.
Congressional reports and the State Department’s International
Religious Freedom Reports and Human Rights Reports have been
more critical in assessing Turkey’s human rights record.
Despite these supportive internal and external conditions for the
protection of human rights, human rights violations have been
rampant in Turkey and Turkey’s modern history has been
punctuated by four military interventions during whi human
rights protections were sidelined. As discussed below, the military’s
‘February 28 Dictates’ shaped the second half of the 1990s. Weak
coalition governments and a culture of impunity concerning the
military gave the military free rein to pursue what it saw as two
existential threats to the Republic: Kurds and Islamists.14
Regarding the Kurds, the military engaged in an aggressive
counterinsurgency campaign against the Kurdistan Workers’ Party
(Partiya Karkerên Kurdistanê, PKK) in southeast Turkey, resulting in
significant and wide spread human rights abuses, including the
burning of villages, the torture of PKK militants and sympathizers,
the disappearance of Kurdish activists, the jailing of Kurdish
intellectuals, the suppression of Kurdish media, and extrajudicial
killings aributed to the Gendarmerie Intelligence and Counter-
Terrorism Unit (Jandarma İstihbarat ve Terörle Mücadele Teşkilatı,
JITEM). Although the capture of PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan in
257
Kenya in 1999 temporally diminished the violence in the region,
tension and occasional clashes between the security forces and PKK
militants—as well as between the PKK and Hizbullah (of Turkey; not
to be confused with Hezbollah in Lebanon) militants—continued into
the early 2000s and flared up again in 2015.
Regarding the Islamists, the military issued a series of demands to
the civilian government to eliminate the Islamist ‘threat,’ resulting in
widespread discrimination against pious Muslims. e military has
always been suspicious of religious activism, but its concerns
reaed new heights when the 1995 election returns made the
Islamist Welfare Party the largest party in parliament. e party
then established a coalition government. e military used the
National Security Council, whi included civilian and military
members, to impose the ‘February 28 Dictates’ in 1997. Labeling the
Islamists, including the Welfare Party, as the biggest threat to
national security, the Dictates required the government to impose
wide-ranging measures in education, the economy, and the
bureaucracy to combat Islamist influences. Under pressure from the
military, the Welfare Party government collapsed and a new three-
party coalition government was established to implement the
Dictates. During this period, the Welfare Party was closed by the
Turkish Constitutional Court for its alleged anti-secular activities,
women with headscarves were dismissed from universities, the
middle sools of the religious Imam Hatip organization were closed,
and bureaucrats suspected of having Islamist sympathies were fired
from their jobs.
In sum, despite some elements of a strong rights framework,
Turkey’s weak coalition governments, the military’s tutelage over
civilian authorities, and the militarization of political conflicts with
Kurds and Islamic groups worsened the human rights record of
Turkey in the 1990s. ese tensions and the 2001 economic crisis
created the conditions for the rise of the AKP. Distancing itself from
the Milli Görüş (National Outlook) of earlier Islamist parties, the
258
AKP tactically and successfully expanded the traditional Islamist
base and won support from apolitical Sufi movements, Kurds,
liberals, and those hurt by the economic crisis.
259
2002–7: democratic reforms and the
expansion of rights
From 2002 to 2005, the AKP appeared to emerge as a force for
democracy and human rights, prompting Zehra F. K. Arat and her
collaborators to expect a ‘brighter future’ for human rights in
Turkey.15 Although a religious cadre formed the AKP babone, the
party enjoyed wide support, particularly among those who felt it
represented the aspirations of groups whi had also experienced
state repression since the early years of the Republic for not fiing
Kemalist ideas of the nation-state.16 A significant portion of Kurds,
who comprise 18 percent of the Turkish population and who have
faced either assimilation or repression for the majority of modern
Turkish history, supported the AKP. e party also garnered support
from other ethnicities, including Arabs, Lazs, Circassians and even,
to a limited extent, Turkey’s dwindling religious minorities, su as
Jews, Greeks, and Armenians. Most liberal intellectuals, long critical
of the Turkish state and military, supported the party due to the
AKP’s rhetoric of pluralism, human rights, and democracy.17 e
reaction against the politics of the Kemalist-dominated earlier eras
was a revolution from below, and the AKP was able to annel these
sentiments, capitalizing on the appeal of human rights, democracy,
development, and EU membership.
Despite its strong mandate from the electorate, the AKP refrained
from directly allenging administrative tutelage—the formal and
informal limitations imposed by the bureaucracy, especially the
military, on civilian government. e February 28 Dictates
continued, even if the balash they created was partly responsible
for the rise of AKP. Facing this restrictive political environment, the
AKP relied on a strong rights, democracy, and economic
260
development discourse, legitimized as part of the EU membership
criteria, and thereby sidestepped potentially polarizing cultural and
social agendas. is strategy also appealed to liberals and others
concerned about economic welfare, rather than ideology. Essentially,
the AKP seemed to present a new identity for and vision of Muslim
democracy, blending political and economic liberalism with social
conservativism, akin to European Christian democrat parties.
e AKP, empowered and led by a boom-up coalition,
strategically used the EU membership process to open Turkish
political space to the marginalized segments of society.18 Joost
Lagendijk, former air of the EU–Turkey Joint Parliamentary
Commiee, called 2003 and 2004 the “golden years” in Turkey–EU
relations.19 In 2004, the EU anowledged that Turkey had
sufficiently fulfilled the Copenhagen Criteria for EU membership,
standards whi include the “stability of institutions guaranteeing
democracy, the rule of law, human rights and respect for and
protection of minorities.”20 e EU then allowed the formal
membership negotiations to start.
At this point, pleasing liberals and assuaging the fears of the
secularists, the AKP pushed a series of impressive political and
economic liberalization reforms. Rather than imposing sharia, the
AKP sought to align the Turkish legal system with the Copenhagen
criteria. Four areas of reform are especially noteworthy:
Kurdish Rights:e Kurdish problem has plagued most of Turkey’s
modern history. When in the 1980s the military took the lead in
addressing the situation, the issue became a law and order problem.
e military’s counterinsurgency tactics in the 1990s resulted in the
alienation of most of Turkey’s Kurds. Asserting its authority on the
issue and by extension asserting its right over the military to deal
with the Kurds, the AKP recognized the Kurdish problem as a
political and cultural problem, and offered a democratic solution.
e government recognized the Kurds’ right to speak, publish, and
broadcast in Kurdish21 and removed the prohibition on Kurdish
261
names. Kurdish names can now appear on birth certificates as legal
names. e ban on the use of the leers q, w, and x, whi are part
of the Kurdish alphabet but not the Turkish alphabet was lied with
the ‘democratization paage’ of September 2013. Moving beyond
civil and political rights, AKP initiatives expanded to include
cultural rights. Although the government stopped short of making
Kurdish an official language, private sools and universities were
allowed to tea Kurdish language, whi is also available as elective
in some public sools.22
Religious Freedom:e AKP’s core constituency has been Islamic
groups, appealing not only to the former Welfare Party’s
Nakshibendi-based and political Islamists but also to others, su as
followers of the Gülen movement, whi had previously supported
central-right parties rather than Islamists. e AKP expanded its
appeal by allowing greater flexibility in religious education and also
by permiing female students to wear headscarves to universities.
e laer policy was established through new regulations rather
than through a constitutional amendment, reflecting the party’s
deference to administrative tutelage in this period.
Non-Muslim Minorities:Unlike Kurds and other Muslim
minorities, non-Muslim groups—Greeks, Armenians, and Jews—were
afforded official minority status in Turkey, whi was recognized in
the Lausanne Treaty (1924) between Turkey and the WWI Allied
Powers following the Turkish War of Independence (1920–3). Despite
their official status however, these minorities have suffered
widespread discrimination throughout Turkish history. Under the
AKP, some grievances of non-Muslim minorities remain, su as the
unrealized desire to re-open the Greek Orthodox eological Sool
of Halki, the la of government action to combat pervasive anti-
Semitic discourse in media and politics, and the failure to recognize
the Armenian genocide. e AKP did, however, seek to address some
of the entrened problems, motivated in particular by three factors:
its perception that some of the problems of religious minorities were
262
due to the Kemalist legacy, its desire to show a commitment to EU
principles, and its aempt to signal a commitment to pluralism in
order to woo liberal domestic allies. Among the AKP reforms
enacted to address non-Muslim minority grievances, for example,
was a removal of the ban on minority foundations acquiring,
disposing of, or transferring property and the ban on opening places
of worship.23
Economic rights:e Turkish economy has expanded significantly
since the 2001 economic crisis, growing an impressive 6.8 percent
annually between 2002 and 2007.24 e government funneled new
revenue into expanding the social safety net, supporting the poor
and middle class through affordable housing, universal healthcare,
and other social spending. ese social reforms proceeded in tandem
with a program of economic liberalization. is economic
liberalization had a darker side however, as it undermined the rights
of labor and resulted in decreased protections for labor (resulting in
a decline in real wages and increasing economic inequalities—and
increased negative environmental impacts).25
263
2007–2011: taking on administrative tutelage
and the culture of impunity
Increasing its share of the vote to 47 percent, the AKP won a second
term in office in 2007. As the party became more powerful, reform
efforts diminished. During this period, the AKP and its allies, most
significantly the Gülen movement, fought administrative tutelage
and the culture of impunity enshrined in key parts of the state
bureaucracy. In particular, state officials who saw themselves as the
guardians of the Kemalist regime had directly or indirectly crippled
the earlier aempts to open the political system to Kurds, leist, and
Islamists.26 Seeing these groups as threats to national security, the
police, military, and intelligentsia formed a ‘deep state’ and engaged
in gross violations of human rights. For example, concerning the
Kurds, the operatives of the deep state are suspected of torture,
extrajudicial killings, and disappearances in the 1990s. ese
operatives acted with impunity, confident they would never be held
accountable in a court of law and secure in the knowledge that their
human rights violations would not be met with retribution or
punishment. As a result, “Due process rights have been frequently
violated in Turkey, and abuse in detention or prison, including
torture, have been endemic.”27 A 2010 Human Rights Wat report
stated that “Turkish courts are notoriously lenient towards the
members of the security forces who are arged with abuse or
misconduct, contributing to impunity and the persistence of torture
and the resort to lethal force.”28
Combatting the Culture of Impunity:e Ergenekon trials, starting
in 2008 and the 2010 Sledgehammer trial targeted not only high-
ranking military personnel but also their allies in the civilian
bureaucracy and, most controversially, in the media, civil society,
264
and the academy. Allegedly, these groups had collaborated to
undermine—and possibly to overthrow—the AKP government in the
early 2000s. While most AKP allies supported these mass trials,
some, especially liberals, questioned whether the police and
prosecutors were themselves disregarding the rights of the accused.
Many suspected that the police and prosecutors, acting with a
similar level of impunity as the behavior they claimed to be fighting,
violated due process and used fabricated evidence and secret
witnesses in order to keep the accused in jail.
Kurdish Rights:Overtures to Kurds continued throughout this
period. In an effort to arrive at a long-term solution to Kurdish
grievances, the government decided to talk with Kurdish leadership
and jailed PKK leader Abdullah Öcalan and also unveiled a
‘Democratic Initiative’ offering a set of major reforms to address
Kurdish demands. In January 2009, in an unprecedented move, the
state broadcasting agency (TRT) launed TRT 6, a TV annel
broadcasting in Kurdish around the clo. ese moves elicited
reactions from Turkish nationalists and parliamentary resistance
however, and the AKP slowed down and has failed to push these
mu-anticipated reforms.29
Freedom of Expression:During the first two periods, AKP
governments expanded freedom of expression on some issues.
Compared to pre-AKP days, it became easier to discuss once-taboo
subjects su as the Kurdish problem, the Armenian genocide, the
military’s place in politics, and Atatürk’s legacy. Freedom of the
press was likewise strengthened.30 Several problematic laws,
however, su as Article 301 of the Turkish Penal Code (TCK) whi
bans ‘insult to Turkishness,’ remain on the books and prosecutors
have used this article alongside existing anti-terror laws to stifle pro-
Kurdish and anti-AKP voices.
Alevi Rights:An estimated 15–25 percent of the Turkish population
considers themselves Alevi, a variant of Shi`ite Islam. Alevis, who
have historically been discriminated against and persecuted by the
265
Sunni majority, have been staun supporters of secularism and
secular parties and are thus suspicious of the AKP. Alevi demands
called for the recognition of cemevis as places of worship; the
restructuring—if not abolition—of the Directorate of Religious
Affairs to accommodate non-Sunnis; and making religious
education, whi emphasizes Sunni Islam, an elective subject in
sools. e AKP launed its “Dialogue with Alevis” initiative in
2008 and 2009, but eventually abandoned this initiative having made
lile progress in this area.31
266
2011–15: AKP authoritarianism and rolling
ba of rights
e AKP came to power a third time in 2011 with a landslide
victory, capturing 50 percent of the vote in parliamentary elections.
As AKP’s electoral success increased, its reformist spirit waned and
its latent authoritarian tendencies emerged. In this period, human
rights and democracy experienced major setbas.32
What accounts for this ange in the AKP’s appetite for human
rights reform? Five factors—three external and two internal—seem
significant. First, the momentum for EU membership has slowed.
Vetoed by Cyprus, spurned by then Fren President Nicolas
Sarkozy, scared by the Greek economic debacle, and having seen the
rise of anti-Muslim parties across the EU, the Turkish public and
government have lost hope for EU membership. is apathy, or
Euro-fatigue, has made the human rights agenda, an EU-inspired
project, a hard sell.
Second, the tumultuous events of the Arab Spring and the AKP’s
desire for regional leadership moved the government’s focus away
from mu-needed domestic reforms. With the regional rise of
groups affiliated with the Muslim Brotherhood, AKP leaders have
become more concerned with polishing their religious—rather than
human rights—credentials. e Arab Spring, in particular, ignited the
AKP’s pro-Muslim Brotherhood orientation and empowered the
Islamists in the AKP coalition at the expense of centrists and liberals.
As a result, the AKP shied its foreign policy vision toward the
MENA region as opposed to Europe. e government’s activism in
keeping the border open for Syrian refugees, providing protection to
these refugees, and loudly demanding that the Assad regime end its
267
brutal cradown is arguably mu more related to its foreign policy
goals than to its commitment to human rights.
ird, mistrust between the U.S. and the AKP has grown. In
shiing its focus on the MENA region, the AKP took a mu harsher
rhetorical stand against Israel—a position crystalized when Prime
Minister Erdoğan interrupted Israeli President Shimon Peres in
Davos in 2009, calling out: “Killers.” Likewise, tensions increased
with the 2010 Israeli Defense Forces interception of the Turkish ship,
Mavi Marmara, while carrying humanitarian aid to Gaza. e
Obama administration’s reluctance to further engage with the
MENA region has also allowed the AKP to art a new foreign and
domestic course.
Internal factors also explain the AKP’s move away from reform:
economic and electoral success emboldened AKP leaders, making
them overconfident. Economically, Turkey was in a growth cycle
until 2013. is success is notable in light of the global economic
slowdown and the economic problems in Europe, Turkey’s biggest
export market. And politically, opposition to the AKP remains weak.
e AKP has won the last five major elections, including three
parliamentary elections and two municipal elections; its victory in
2011 garnered a historic 50 percent of the vote. ese successes have
turned the AKP into the party of the status quo rather than reform.
In June 2015 elections, the party lost some support but still won 40
percent of the votes. e parliamentary configuration resulted in a
hung parliament led to a snap election sedule in November 2015.
Finally, the AKP has anged its approa to the Kurdish issue,
Turkey’s thorniest human rights problem. In its first term, Party
leaders saw the Kurdish issue from the perspective of civil, political,
and cultural rights. However, since 2007, the party has viewed the
Kurdish issue from the perspective of PKK-violence and political
competition with the pro-Kurdish Peace and Democracy Party (Barış
ve Demokrasi Partisi, BDP).33 With this shi in perspective, the AKP
no longer promotes human rights or democratic reforms as a
268
solution to the Kurdish problem, replacing this approa with a
proposed political deal with the PKK and initiated direct talks with
the imprisoned Kurdish leaders, Öcalan, rather than elected Kurdish
officials. is is unfortunate: A major breakthrough in human rights
in Turkey will not come without the government directly addressing
the Kurdish problem. Treating the PKK, an armed group that the
Turkish state considers terrorist, as the sole representative of Kurds
in Turkey will be a dangerous and risky path, as flaring up violence
between PKK and Turkish security forces in the Summer of 2015 has
shown.
During this period, human rights in Turkey suffered major
setbas and the AKP has faced increasing criticism regarding its
human rights record. e 2012 Report of the U.S. Commission on
International Religious Freedom recommended that the U.S. State
Department categorize Turkey as a ‘Country of Particular Concern,’
a category reserved for countries su as Iran, China, and Saudi
Arabia.34 In its 2013 report, Freedom House downgraded Turkey’s
civil liberties rating from three to four (one is the most free; seven
the least free) for the “detention of thousands of individuals—
including Kurdish activists, journalists, union leaders, students and
military officers—in campaigns that many believe to be politically
motivated.”35
Policy Brutality in Gezi Protests:e AKP clearly demonstrated its
new authoritarian face and its movement away from liberals and
urban, educated youth in the government’s handling of the Gezi
protests. Popular reaction against the government’s plan to allow
construction of a shopping mall in Gezi park, one of the few
remaining green spaces in the city center, erupted in protest in
Istabul’s Taksim Square in May, 2013. Regarding this as another AKP
move to privatize public areas, a wide range of liberal, leist, and
anti-AKP groups joined environmentalists to occupy Gezi park and
prevent the removal of the park’s trees. Protests grew as some saw
an opportunity to force Erdoğan from office, even if that was
269
unlikely to happen. Erdoğan’s harsh reaction against any allenge
to his authority and his vitriolic denunciation of the protesters gave
the green light to a violent police cradown on the largely peaceful
protest and ignited protest elsewhere in Istanbul and the country.
Eight people were killed and many were injured in the clashes.36
Gülen Movement:Among all the alliances the AKP abandoned in
this period, its falling away with the Gülen movement was the most
acrimonious. In its first two terms, the AKP and Gülen movement
were close collaborators. Most speculate that the Gülen movement
likely engineered the Ergenekon and Sledgehammer cases that AKP
used to rein in the military. But ideological allenges (the Gülen
movement’s pro-West orientation put it at odds with political
Islamists), material concerns (competition over staffing positions in
the state bureaucracy), and distrust between Gülen and Erdoğan
made it clear that the alliance was faltering. e relationship was
further soured by the corruption arges—known as the December
17 and December 25 cases—whi named ministers’ ildren as well
as businessmen close to the AKP’s inner circle. Although denied by
followers of Gülen, Erdoğan and his allies accused the Gülen
movement of being behind these arges. In response, Erdoğan has
used state authorities to unleash a war on the Gülen movement, both
domestically and internationally, using courts, tax agencies, and
formal and informal coercion to place pro-AKP individuals in
important positions within the movement. When that failed, the
AKP moved to cripple the movement so it would pose no further
danger to Erdoğan and the AKP government.37
Freedom of Speech:Prosecutors still arge people for offenses that
would likely be protected by free spee provisions in other
countries. e AKP government has increasingly targeted social
media and the internet, denying access to websites critical of the
government and has even imposed temporary restrictions to
YouTube and Twier access in retaliation for the sites allowing users
to post leaked phone conversations suggesting corruption on the part
270
of AKP government members and Prime Minister Erdoğan’s inner
circle.38 In 2015, Reporters Without Borders ranked Turkey 149 out of
180 countries in its World Press Freedom Index.39
Women’s Rights:ere have been some hopeful signs regarding
women’s rights. e 2011 elections increased women’s
representation in parliament from 50 to 78 seats (out of 550). Turkey
also became the first country to sign the Council of Europe’s 2014
Convention on preventing and combating violence against women
and domestic violence. But the government has taken few tangible
measures to advance the lives of women and gender inequality and
violence against women remain endemic. Women’s economic
participation is a low 27 percent. Police and courts oen fail women
who apply for help under the Family Protection Law and domestic
violence and the murder of women by family members continue to
be major issues.40 President Erdoğan’s own anti-female aitudes—as
exemplified his 2014 comment that “Women shouldn’t be considered
as equals”—for example, have further legitimized discrimination
against women in areas su as education, work, and reproductive
rights.41
Failure to Combat Impunity:Police continue to beat and to use
excessive force against protestors and have even used firearms
against unarmed suspects. Too oen, prosecutors do not pursue these
cases; rather than prosecuting the police for the abuse, they blame
the protestors. Police, members of National Intelligence Agency, and
the military remain unaccountable for their actions—unless these
actions conflict with AKP interests. e security paage the
Parliament passed in Mar 2015 provided additional powers to
police in detaining people and quelling protests.42
Kurdish Rights:Turkey’s principal human rights problem remains
the Kurdish situation. While the government advanced Kurdish
rights on several fronts in its first two terms, during its third term
the government ignored further Kurdish demands. e Kurdish
minority wants constitutional recognition, public sools’ teaing
271
in Kurdish language in predominantly Kurdish regions, the
acceptance of Kurdish as an official language, and the removal of the
10 percent nationwide electoral threshold that the parties need in
order to gain a seat in parliament. In 2012, thousands of Kurdish
activists were arrested for alleged links to the KCK. Prosecutors have
used anti-terrorism laws to suppress non-violent pro-Kurdish and
leist political activity and activist members, party officials, and
politicians from the pro-Kurdish Peace and Democracy Party (BDP)
have all been imprisoned.43 In June 2015 parliamentary elections, the
main pro-Kurdish party, e Peoples’ Democratic Party (Halkların
Demokratik Partisi, HDP), surpassed the electoral threshold by
geing 13 percent of nationwide votes, ushering a new page for
Kurdish politics in Turkey.
Syria:ite possibly, the only bright spot in the AKP’s human
rights record in its third term is foreign policy, particularly as related
to Syria. e AKP government emerged as an early and strong
supporter of anti-Assad efforts in Syria. By June 2015, the ensuing
civil war had killed nearly a quarter million people and created
about four million refugees. Turkey stepped in to provide shelter to
Syrian refugees, hosting about 1.8 million refugees—almost half the
total—as of July 2015. ese efforts, however—AKP’s entanglement
in Syrian civil war and support of wide-ranging Islamist, anti-Assad
forces—have poisoned AKP’s relations with Turkish Kurds in Turkey
who support Syrian Kurdish efforts to create their own areas of
control in Syria rather than fight Assad.
272
Conclusion
e AKP’s impact on human rights in Turkey between 2002–2015
was mixed. e government initiated and implemented some major
reforms in its first term, slowed the pace of reform during its second
term and has now seemingly abandoned human rights reforms
altogether in its third term. Four areas saw improvement under AKP
rule: Kurdish rights, the religious freedoms of Sunni Muslims, the
enlargement of the social welfare system, and the expansion of
healthcare. In the process, the government broke down the
bureaucracy’s resistance to government initiatives and sent the
military ba to the barras.
Yet, the government did lile to improve the rights of women and
Alevis and economic liberalization undermined labor rights and
environmental protections. Especially in its third term, the AKP
began to suppress its opposition, using formal and informal means to
squel opposing viewpoints in print or on social media. Human
rights gains aieved in its first term were thus eroded. While
beyond the scope of this apter, these “two steps ba aer one step
forward” presaged the government’s harsher cradown against
human rights that was to take place in 2016.
Although it slowed down, the EU membership process had been
critical for the advancement of rights in Turkey. e AKP’s
introduction of policies protecting human rights oen came as a
response to EU demands. Skeptics might ask to what extent was the
AKP genuinely motivated by EU membership or was the EU
membership process merely a platform that allowed the AKP to
push for reforms that were in the party’s political interest? For
example, despite longstanding EU requests for ange, the AKP took
lile action on issues su as gender equality, rights for LGBT
273
individuals, and rights for Alevis—all issue areas that are unpopular
among the AKP’s core constituencies.
e AKP between 2002–2015 effectively used the language of
human rights and democracy to keep its broad coalition, including
liberals, intact until it consolidated power. Once the party came to
dominate the political space and control state bureaucracy,
particularly the military, it tried to assert itself as a hegemonic
power akin to the Kemalists, but with an Islamist orientation. As
su, it became an obstacle for human rights and democracy. Most
of the AKP long-term reforms can be directly linked to its political
and ideological interest; when an issue was not in the party’s
interest, it did not work to advance human rights on this issue.
Worse still, as AKP policies in the third term show, it rolled ba its
own progress on human rights and democracy in order to advance
the party’s interests and protect its leader, Erdoğan.
274
Notes
1 I thank Hannah Coae, Edel Hughes, Brandon Green, Ramazan Kılınç, and Kate
Marshall for their comments on earlier versions of this apter.
2 Baskin Oran, “e minority concept and rights in Turkey”, in Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.),
Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
3 e major exception is Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.), Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007) whi covers the first term of AKP’s
government.
4 Shadi Hamid, Temptations of Power: Islamists and New Illiberal Democracy in the
Middle East (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2014).
5 Constitution of the Republic of Turkey,
hps://global.tbmm.gov.tr/docs/constitution_en (accessed on June 25, 2015).
6 e International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (r. 2003), the International
Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights (r. 2003), the Convention on the
Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination against Women (r.1985), the Convention on
the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (r. 2002), the Convention against
Torture and other Cruel, Inhuman or Degrading Treatment or Punishment (r. 1988), and
e Convention on the Rights of the Child (r. 1995). See Füsun Türkmen, “Turkey’s
participation in global and regional human rights regimes,” in Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.),
Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
7 IHD provides the most comprehensive human rights violations in Turkey in its annual
reports, www.ihd.org.tr/ (accessed on September 4, 2016).
8 www.mazlumder.org/tr/ (accessed on September 4, 2016).
9 hp://tihv.org.tr/ (accessed on September 4, 2016).
10 Margaret E. Ke and Kathryn Sikkink, Activists Beyond Borders: Advocacy Networks in
International Politics (Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 2014); Zehra F. K. Arat,
275
“Conclusion: Turkey’s prospects and broader implications,” in Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.),
Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
11 Turan Kayaoglu, “Trying Islam: Muslims before the European Court of Human Rights,”
Journal of Muslim Minority Affairs vol. 34 (2014), 345–64.
12 Füsun Türkmen, “Turkey’s participation in global and regional human rights regimes;”
omas W. Smith, “Leveraging Norms: e ECHR and Turkey’s human rights reforms,”
in Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.), Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
13 Zehra F. K. Arat, “Conclusion: Turkey’s prospects and broader implications.”
14 Ahmet T. Kuru, “e rise and fall of military tutelage in Turkey: Fears of Islamism,
Kurdism, and Communism,” Insight Turkey vol. 14 (2012), 37–57.
15 Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.), Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia: University of
Pennsylvania Press, 2007), 15.
16 Ilter Turan, Turkey’s Difficult Journey to Democracy: Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015).
17 Ihsan Dagi, “Islamist parties: Turkey’s AKP in power,” Journal of Democracy vol. 19
(2008), 25–30.
18 Ramazan Kılınç, “International pressure, domestic politics, and the dynamics of religious
freedom: evidence from Turkey,” Comparative Politics vol. 46 (2014), 127–45.
19 Joost Legendijk, “Turkey’s accession to the European Union and the role of Justice and
Development Party,” in Ahmet T. Kuru and Alfred Stepan (eds) Democracy, Islam, and
Secularism (New York: Columbia University Press, 2012). Also, see Demet Y. Mousseau,
“Is Turkey democratizing with EU reforms?: an assessment of human rights, corruption
and socio-economic conditions,” Southeast European and Black Sea Studies vol. 12
(2012), 63–80.
20 hp://europa.eu/legislation_summaries/glossary/accession_criteria_copenhague_en.htm
(accessed on September 4, 2016).
21 Mary L. O’Neill, “Linguistic human rights and the rights of Kurds,” in Zehra F. K. Arat
(ed.), Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
276
22 Ibid.
23 Ramazan Kılınç, “International pressure, domestic politics, and the dynamics of religious
freedom: evidence from Turkey;” Ali Soner, “e Justice and Development Party’s
policies towards non-Muslim minorities in Turkey,” Journal of Balkan and Near Eastern
Studies vol. 12 (2010), 23–40.
24 hp://data.worldbank.org/country/turkey (accessed on September 4, 2016).
25 Edward Weisband and Sera Öner, “So near, yet so far: freedom of association and
workers’ rights,” in Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.), Human Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
26 Ahmet T. Kuru, “e rise and fall of military tutelage in Turkey: Fears of Islamism,
Kurdism, and Communism.”
27 Zehra F. K. Arat, “Conclusion: Turkey’s prospects and broader implications,” 281.
28 www.hrw.org/world-report-2010/turkey (accessed on September 4, 2016).
29 Kathleen Cavanaugh and Edel Hughes, “A democratic opening? e AKP and the
Kurdish le,” Muslim World Journal of Human Rights vol. 12 (2015), 53–74.
30 Dilruba Çatalbaş, “Freedom of press and broadcasting” in Zehra F. K. Arat (ed.), Human
Rights in Turkey (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
31 Melih U. Erol, “estioning non-discrimination, equality, and human rights in
contemporary Turkey from the perspective of the Alevi religious community,” Muslim
World Journal of Human Rights vol. 12 (2015), 75–97.
32 Hugh Pope, “Erdogan’s decade” (2012) The Cairo Review of Global Affairs.
www.aucegypt.edu/gapp/cairoreview/Pages/articleDetails.aspx?aid=149 (accessed on
September 4, 2016).
33 Kathleen Cavanaugh and Edel Hughes, “A democratic opening? e AKP and the
Kurdish le.”
34 Access the report at www.uscirf.gov/reports-briefs/annual-report.
35 hps://freedomhouse.org/report/freedom-world/2013/turkey#.VZlTbhtViko (accessed on
September 4, 2016).
277
36 Henri Barkey, “Turkish democracy: two steps forward, two steps baward,” Harvard
International Review vol. 34 (2014), 75–8.
37 Fait Muedini, “e politics between the Justice and Development Party (AKP) and the
Gülen movement: issues of democratization, human rights abuses and rising
authoritarianism,” Muslim World Journal of Human Rights vol. 12 (2015), 99–122.
38 Batu Kinikoglu, “Evaluating the regulation of access to online content in Turkey in the
context of freedom of spee,” Journal of International Law and Technology vol. 9
(2014), 36–55.
39 hp://index.rsf.org/#!/; Also see Oray Egin, “Silence of surrender: Erdogan’s war on
independent Media,” World Affairs vol. 176 (2013), 47–56.
40 www.hrw.org/world-report/2012/country-apters/turkey (accessed on September 4,
2016).
41 Sebnem Arsu, “Turkish President says women shouldn’t be considered equals,” (2014)
The New York Times. www.nytimes.com/2014/11/25/world/europe/turkish-president-
says-women-shouldnt-be-considered-equals.html (accessed on September 4, 2016).
42 www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2015/03/turkey-gives-police-broad-powers-to-repress-
dissent/ (accessed on September 4, 2016).
43 Aliza Marcus, “e Kurds’ evolving strategy,” World Affairs vol. 175 (2012), 15–22.
278
Selected Bibliography
Arat, Zehra F. K. (ed.). Human Rights in Turkey. Philadelphia:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007.
Cavanaugh, Kathleen and Hughes, Edel. “A democratic opening? e
AKP and the Kurdish le” in Muslim World Journal of Human
Rights vol. 12, no. 1 (2015), 53–74.
Erol, Melih U. “estioning non-discrimination, equality, and
human rights in contemporary Turkey from the perspective of
the Alevi religious community,” Muslim World Journal of
Human Rights vol. 12, no. 1 (2015), 75–97.
Hamid, Shadi. Temptations of Power: Islamists and New Illiberal
Democracy in the Middle East. Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2014.
Kılınç, Ramazan. “International pressure, domestic politics, and the
dynamics of religious freedom: evidence from Turkey” in
Comparative Politics vol. 46 (2014), 127–45.
Kuru, Ahmet T. “e rise and fall of military tutelage in Turkey:
fears of Islamism, Kurdism, and Communism,” Insight Turkey
vol. 14 (2012), 37–57.
Kuru, Ahmet T. and Stepan, Alfred eds. Democracy, Islam, and
Secularism. New York: Columbia University Press, 2012.
Mousseau Demet Y. “Is Turkey democratizing with EU reforms? An
assessment of human rights, corruption and socio-economic
conditions” in Southeast European and Black Sea Studies vol. 12
(2012), 63–80.
Muedini, Fait. “e politics between the Justice and Development
Party (AKP) and the Gülen movement: issues of democratization,
human rights abuses and rising authoritarianism” in Muslim
World Journal of Human Rights vol. 12 (2015), 99–122.
279
Turan, Ilter. Turkey’s Difficult Journey to Democracy: Two Steps
Forward, One Step Back. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015.
280
8
e Politics of Human Rights in Iran
Since the Green Movement
Shadi Mokhtari and Neda Nazmi
281
Introduction
e popular aspirations of the historic 1979 Islamic revolution, and
the arges of rights violations from both within and abroad ever
since, have given rise to a spectrum of rights-based debates and
discourses in and in relation to Iran. Mass protests spurred by
accusations of election fraud in the 2009 presidential elections, and
the subsequent cradown on the so-called ‘Green Movement,’
represented a watershed moment in the rights contests of post-
revolutionary Iran. is dramatic episode in Iranian history
encompassed both heightened repression by the regime—including
detentions, systematic torture and rape of detainees, and severe
restrictions on the media—and substantial resistance—including
political contestation, mobilization, and heightened rights
consciousness by popular, opposition and civil society forces.
is apter considers the state of human rights politics and
contestation within Iran and in the Iranian diaspora since the
unraveling of the Green Movement in early 2010. It puts forth two
conclusions. First, it finds that, while the human rights paradigm has
become highly present in opposition and particularly exiled and
diaspora-based allenges to the regime, its immediate impact on the
Islamic Republic’s politics and policies since the Green Movement
has been modest. is indicates that conservatives in power have
been relatively successful in managing arges of human rights
violations deployed against the state. Second, there are clear
indications that the 2009–10 cradown and on-going repression
continue to occupy public consciousness, while simultaneously
public appetite for engaging in rights contestation has diminished
relative to the time of the Green Movement and the Khatami reform
era whi preceded it.
282
Before proceeding, it is important to note that, although Iran is no
longer in the midst of a concerted cradown on an active popular
protest movement, political repression has remained at some of the
highest levels experienced since the 1980s. Even aer the election of
moderate Hassan Rouhani as president in 2013, hundreds of political
and civil society activists have been arrested or remain in detention.
Additionally, space for even limited allenges to the regime via the
formerly vibrant reformist media and activist sphere has shrunk
considerably compared to the 1997–2003 Khatami reform era and
even the first Ahmadinejad presidency. During this period, Iran has
also set dismal global records for the number of executions carried
out and the number of journalists jailed. Even the mu celebrated
women’s movement is largely in disarray with prominent activists
silenced through prison sentences, and key publications and
advocacy groups shut down.
283
e trajectory of human rights dynamics in
post-revolutionary Iran
In the lead up to Iran’s historic 1979 revolution, the Shah’s
repression—including torture and restrictions on political expression
and participation—constituted a major grievance for virtually all of
the ideologically disparate groups participating in the revolution. A
leading slogan of the revolution was “esteghlal, azadi, jomhuri-e
Islami” (independence, freedom, Islamic Republic). is slogan,
along with the inclusion of a host of civil and political rights in the
Islamic Republic’s constitution (though encumbered by many
qualifications, limitations, and contradictions), spoke to the
significance of aspirations for increased liberties and rights at that
time. Following just a few months of relative political openness, the
1980s were a decade of high levels of repression, including mass
executions of thousands of supporters of the mujahedin-e khalq and
leist groups. At this time, any significant criticism of the regime’s
repression could only be waged from abroad and it was oen done
so through the language of human rights violations, making it easy
for the regime to associate the paradigm with ‘enemies of the
revolution,’ in addition to labeling human rights a Western,
imperialist and un-Islamic framework. is le virtually no space for
explicit allenges to the regime’s repression from within the
country, mu less for the deployment of human rights discourses
internally.
e 1990s saw the emergence of ideas whi allenged the key
tenets underpinning the state’s conservative brand of Islamist
ideology. e decade saw the prominence of Islamic intellectual
Abdulkarim Soroush’s theories of diversity, tolerance, and pluralism
in Islam.1 is decade also witnessed the emergence of “Islamic
284
feminism,” spearheaded from above by women related to the Islamic
Republic’s male elite and from below by activists, women’s circles,
and a general heightening of gender consciousness among women
from all social strata, religious and secular. Su currents set the
stage for the surprise landslide election of reformist Mohammad
Khatami, who campaigned and aempted to govern using a
discourse largely centered on the compatibility of Islam with notions
of rights, tolerance, citizenship and improving conditions for
women. While ‘people’s rights,’ ‘the nation’s rights,’ and ‘citizen’s
rights’ were frequently invoked, reformists in Khatami’s camp
largely steered clear of using the term ‘human rights’ for fear of the
consequences of hardliners’ arges they were furthering Western
agendas. e Khatami era was also aracterized by rising civil
society activity. Reformist publications tested the established
boundaries of tolerated criticism and women’s rights activists
undertook advocacy campaigns, including initiatives promoting
Iran’s accession to CEDAW (the U.N. Women’s Rights Convention),
and reform of the Islamic Republic’s family laws derived from Shi`i
jurisprudence. At this time, rights claims were predominately
coued in Islamic discourses. us the accomplishment of the 1990s
and early 2000s was the creation of an expanded space to redefine
rights as rooted in Islam, and the ability to talk about ‘rights
violations’ within that medium.
e government’s apparent election fraud and subsequent
cradown on public protests and opposition mobilizations following
the 2009 elections constituted a significant rollba of the space
created during the Khatami years. At the same time however, the
regime faced an unprecedented allenge to its legitimacy from four
sources: the de facto leaders of the Green Movement, including
Mehdi Karroubi and Mir Hossein Moussavi, and Islamist political
allies in the reformist camp; a handful of clerics sympathetic to their
cause; jailed political and civil society activists; and a politicized
public for large segments of whom the brutal cradown became a
285
major societal grievance, prompting a new round of rights discourses
and heightened rights consciousness.2 Rights allenges were
frequently put forth by ea of these groups coued in Islamic or
revolutionary discourses, but increasingly also in a self-standing
secular way. Mir Hossein Moussavi invoked human rights directly
on several occasions and even allenged the state’s association of
the human rights paradigm with Western political agendas and
culture, writing in his statement #15:
Don’t you claim that expressions su as human rights, women’s rights, minority rights
and the like are excuses world powers hypocritically use to beautify themselves. Why
are they who are supposedly the original and primary proprietors of these values then
far from [realizing] them? Is it that they seek to taint their sool [of thought]? Why do
you curse these concepts and render them the standard for heresy? A religion that has
gied a bushel of flowers for humanity with its mild teaings whi are compatible
with human nature. God forbid, we turn it in a bushel of thorns so that anyone who has
contact with any corner of it is wounded—wounds like those our youth see in the
streets.3
Concurrently, despite hardliner’s rhetoric to the contrary, at the
popular level notions of Islam and human rights being competing
frameworks, or of human rights being nothing more than a tool of
Western power politics, were increasingly rejected. In short, the
human rights paradigm’s resonance, legitimacy, and indigenous
credentials seemed to grow. us, while the Khatami reform era
expanded the space for invoking rights but for the most part only
through Islamic discourses, the Green Movement inaugurated both
more secular formulations of human rights claims being put forth,
and more prominent use of the human rights idea by former Islamic
Republic insiders.4
286
Human rights politics since the Green
Movement
By February 2010 it was clear that security forces and regime
supporters had devised effective ways of physically preventing
people from accessing major squares, a common seing for protests.
In addition, potential organizers were either arrested or under su
strict surveillance as to render them fully paralyzed. A few months
into the Arab uprisings of 2011, Mir Hossein Moussavi, his wife
Zahra Rahnevard and Medhi Karroubi were placed under house
arrest. Fearing similar fates, dozens of prominent Islamist political
figures allied with the former candidates and reformist camp, as well
as journalists and civil society activists, le Iran for exile during the
cradown. e combination of shrinking space for domestic
allenges, and the departure of a significant number of political and
civil society activists, many of them reform-minded Islamists, moved
a new wave of political dissent coued in human rights language
abroad. While internally, human rights once again became a
discourse most political and social activists felt compelled to keep
some distance from, it became a ubiquitous feature of political and
social justice activism abroad. During this period, conservatives
continued to simultaneously co-opt and discredit the international
human rights framework. At the popular level, while the violence
and victims of the 2009–10 cradown had not been forgoen, the
impetus for rights contestation, seen at the height of the Green
Movement, had dimmed. With the passage of time, public interest
shied to everyday life, new political contests (su as the 2013
elections), and the nuclear standoff with the West.
287
Human Rights and the reform camp inside Iran
In the wake of the 2013 presidential election, the reformist camp
within Iran slowly began to regroup and, ultimately, to support the
presidential candidacy of Hassan Rouhani, with hopes of reigniting
the interrupted project of political reform. ere was a heated debate
over whether Iranians should participate or boyco the elections,
waged extensively on social media and among diaspora Iranians.
Boyco proponents pointed to the post-2009 cradown and
continued detentions of political opponents as evidence that the
ruling regime was simply too morally bankrupt to make engagement
worthwhile. Ultimately, however, 72 percent of Iranian citizens
turned out to vote, electing Hassan Rouhani.
In his election campaign Rouhani took up familiar reformist
themes, including: government accountability, strengthening the rule
of law (within the framework of the Islamic Republic’s constitution),
strengthening the voice of the people in politics, and greater
realization of rights. In the realm of rights, he was most comfortable
referring to women’s rights, the rights of Iran’s ethnic and religious
minorities, and the notion of ‘citizenship rights.’ ese were invoked
in mostly general terms, while occasionally freedom of thought,
expression and criticism were mentioned. When pressed in several
instances by audiences anting “political prisoners must be freed,”
Rouhani promised to work to free political prisoners, including the
Green Movement’s de facto leaders remaining under house arrest
whom he referred to explicitly by name. Videos of Election Day
celebrations in the streets included ants of “Rouhani remember,
Moussavi must be [freed]” and “My martyred brother, I reclaimed
your stolen vote.” For many reformers—inside Iran and in exile—the
very fact hardliners allowed Rouhani to run and to win was directly
related to them feeling the weight and potential peril of the popular
discontent produced by the 2009–10 cradown.
288
Despite the hope placed in his presidency, Rouhani’s first two
years were marked by only tentative and token steps towards
improving rights conditions, with few tangible gains. In October
2013, during his first 100 days in office, Rouhani put out a “Dra
Charter of Citizens’ Rights.”5 e arter included some overlap with
conventional human rights documents, namely in its recognition of
certain due process rights, freedom of expression and press, and a
host of social and economic rights. Women’s rights were also
mentioned, but largely in relation to their social and economic rights
and with virtually no mention of legal discrimination stemming
from Shari`a-based laws operating in the country. e Dra Charter
offered lile by way of concrete legal protections, and, aer
presenting a brief opportunity for the embaled reformist media and
civil society to once again safely take up rights issues, it faded from
the political scene.
Beyond the Dra Charter, Rouhani took up human rights-and
women’s rights-related themes from time to time, but rarely in any
sustained way. Soon aer his election some prominent jailed
activists su as Nasrin Sotoudeh were freed. He made statements
contradicting Khamenei’s assertions of traditional fiqh notions of
complementarity of men and women’s duties and rights, by
speaking of gender equality (even using the hashtag #genderequality
in a tweet) in relation to women’s participation in the public sphere
and professional life. When faced with the same ants of “political
prisoners must be freed” at post-election speees, he has urged his
supporters to remain patient, signaling at the very least that he
retained some commitment to the issue. Within his administration,
Shahidokt Molaverdi, who Rouhani appointed his Vice President for
Women’s Affairs, has oen been highly vocal in her allenges to
conservatives, largely in relation to hejab policing and the presence
of women at sporting events. She has also advocated for women’s
social and economic rights, including combating poverty and
homelessness. In the summer of 2015, Rouhani gave a spee to the
289
Judiciary urging it to cooperate with him in pushing for a law to
finally define what constitutes political crimes; a definition whi he
asserted should follow the example of the first Shi`a Imam, Imam
Ali, by tolerating even the most stinging verbal criticism as long as
there was no violence deployed.6 Su stances taken by Rouhani can
be viewed at best as a broad endorsement of the spirit of upholding
certain rights, but fall short of a willingness to invest substantial
political capital to guarantee them.
To date, most reformist allies have given Rouhani the benefit of
the doubt, assuming he has had lile oice but to sideline the
domestic political reform agenda in order to concentrate his political
capital on bringing a deal on the nuclear issue to fruition. Comments
on the international stage by his popular Foreign Minister Javad
Zarif denying the existence of political prisoners and politically-
motivated executions in Iran, and insisting that Iran’s human rights
conditions are not particularly worse than elsewhere7, as well as a
2014 assertion by Rouhani himself that in Iran there are no jailed
journalists, have been viewed by many allies against this badrop.
While giving rise to some criticism, the statements are widely
interpreted by reformist allies as the Rouhani administration’s
strategy to tread lightly on rights issues on the international stage in
order to maintain hardliners reluctant acquiescence to a nuclear
arms deal. Conservative cleric Ayatollah Mokarem Shirazi and even
Khamenei himself have warned that, once nuclear negotiations have
been concluded, Western actors will want to bring forth the issue of
human rights, but that an arms deal will not lead to any opening up
of political space. e reform camp and even many Iranian human
rights activists, however, oose to believe that geing the
distractions and excuses presented by the nuclear energy standoff
out of the way is a prerequisite for again addressing rights issues. A
recent study of Iranian civil society activists reflected overwhelming
support for the conclusion of a deal with the West on the nuclear
issue and the removal of sanctions, whi some viewed as
290
contributing to social and economic rights violations.8 Some exiled
activists belonging to the reformist camp at times even lobbied
Western officials to refrain from inserting human rights into the
negotiations.
A small group of dissident clerics also continued to allenge
hardliners in power, oen going farther than Rouhani, and most
reformists, in this regard. is cohort, led by Ayatollah Bayat
Zanjani, Ayatollah Ali Mohammad Dastgeib and Grand Ayatollah
Mousavi Ardabili, have made stinging critiques of the government
revolving around state repression and denial of rights. A few
examples are instructive of their discourse. Following his bold
indictments of the 2009 cradown, Ayatollah Bayat Zanjani has
spoken out against what he has called the “the political treatment”
and targeting of workers, ruling hardliners’ limiting of “God-given
freedom”, the misguided view that there is a contradiction between
human rights and Islam, and the authorities’ failure to implement
rights provisions laid out in the Islamic Republic’s constitution. In
October 2013, Ayatollah Ali Mohammad Dastgeib targeted not only
the state’s repression, but also Rouhani’s reluctance to take up the
plight of political prisoners:
We say … Dr. Hasan Rouhani …, other people and I, based on the slogans that we use,
conditionally voted for you. Our condition first of all was that you try to free political
prisoners particularly Mr Mousavi and Karrubi. People who were against this view
voted for other candidates. You need to try your best as you see fit. Even if you need to
go to sources of emulation and ask for their views based on shari`a … If you evaluate it
from the standpoint of shari`a … the issue is completely clear.9
In December 2012, Grand Ayatollah Mousavi Ardebili addressed
conservative discourses discrediting the human rights idea:
Today it is a duty of the ulama to incorporate discussion and the realization of human
rights in their solarly undertakings, placing it at the fore of and expanding it through
ijtihad and jurisprudence and in this way supporting modern humanity. It is incumbent
upon speakers, writers and Islamic missionaries with a correct understanding and
expression of human rights issues to not only resolve the misgiving about any conflict
between human rights and Islam but also to highlight the significant role of religion in
291
promoting all aspects of human rights. It is the duty of those at the fore of public
opinion to promote rights issues and human rights until they become common values of
and serious demands in Islamic societies. It is the duty of the rulers and those running
Islamic societies to follow human rights’ laws and accepted standards … to make a
beer world for the Islamic ummah and create a more beautiful face for Islamic
societies and government in the world. Let us believe not only that human rights values
are not imported or imposed but rather it is our own great heritage.10
ough these dissident clerics’ numbers are small, their willingness
to continue to employ rights discourses, and pose relatively bold
rights-based allenges to a self-styled Islamic state built around the
“Rule of the Jurist” thesis, remains a thorn in the side of the
hardliners in power, and lends an air of religious legitimacy to the
rights claims against the regime.
e state of human rights and women’s rights activism
in Iran aer the Green Movement
During the life of the Islamic Republic, organizations whi could be
considered the Iranian corollary to independent domestic human
rights and women’s rights organizations have always been forced to
navigate a precarious terrain traversing domestic and international
politics. Typically, they have been small groups, modestly funded by
members and perpetually faced with the prospects of being shut
down and their leadership subjected to prison sentences. Although
the targeting of these groups began in the first Ahmadinejad
presidency, the cradown on the Green Movement further shrunk
their ability to pursue rights activism beyond safer areas, su as
ildren’s rights and the rights of the disabled. Instead the rights
related work being done has largely gone underground, sometimes
facilitated by foreign funding received through informal annels.
To the extent that they are able to operate, these groups now largely
focus their efforts on regaining the ground lost since the 2009
elections rather than expanding on past gains. is is particularly
292
true of the women’s rights groups, whi had previously made
significant gains in the areas of violence against women, custody
rights for mothers aer divorce, and raising the legal age of
marriage. Now, they limit their activities to arguably less ambitious
fights over hijab patrolling or women’s aendance at sporting
events. It is also evident in the website of the Defenders of Human
Rights Center, an NGO created by now exiled Nobel Peace Prize
winner Shirin Ebadi, whi devotes most of its content to
allenging current repression, including the imprisonment of its
own members. As Ali Fathollah-Nejad has argued, not only have
su advocacy groups been further weakened by the excuse for
securitization presented by American threats of military
confrontation but they have also suffered from the stringent
economic sanctions imposed in recent years.11 Despite also facing
considerable repression, in 2015 the labor movement remained the
most visible and perhaps most active segment of Iranian civil
society, staging protests with relatively sizable numbers of
participants.
In the years preceding the Green Movement, while there were few
domestic civil society organizations with ‘human rights’ in the title
of their organizations, there was a steady rise in the number of
individuals who self-identified as ‘human rights defenders,’
‘women’s rights defenders,’ ‘human rights activists,’ ‘women’s rights
activists,’ or ‘human rights lawyers.’ At the same time, the post-2009
election cradown brought ‘the political prisoner’ to the fore of
public discourse and consciousness. A number of individuals
belonging to these oen overlapping categories came to acquire
considerable status, becoming household names and the subject of
political conversation among disaffected citizens, particularly in the
Middle and educated classes. Members of this group—including
Nasrin Sotoudeh, Bahar Hedayat, Narges Mohammadi and
Abdolfaah Soltani—frequently highlighted the injustices stemming
from the regime’s repression, invoking the language of human rights
293
in numerous public leers from jail and in public statements and
interviews upon their release. For example, in December 2014 Soltani
and four other political prisoners put out a statement to
commemorate Human Rights Day.12 Both the presence of the
dissident ‘human rights activists’ within political discourse, and
societal reverence and concern for the plight of the political prisoner,
have endured beyond the Green Movement.
Press freedom has also declined during the current era, with the
state’s tight grip on journalism and journalists leading to the decline
of a sector whi led the reform movement during the Khatami
presidency. Reformist publications that pushed the limits of tolerated
spee, su as Mardom Emrooz or Zanan-e Emrooz (both a
women’s rights and reformist publication), have been shut down.
Only a few reformist publications, su as Etemad and Sharq,
remain in circulation. e clampdown on su publications has been
particularly devastating because, as Benjamin Staursky has noted,
more than the underdeveloped NGO sector, publications with
women’s rights and reform agendas have served as the springboard
for rights activism in post-revolutionary Iran.13 us, as has been the
case since the early 2000s, in the face of repression, expression of
political dissent and rights demands have largely moved online. To
the extent that they can break barriers of bloed websites and
turtle-paced internet speeds, Iranians have unrestricted opportunities
for expression and access to information online. Beyond the
thousands of political and activist blogs, publications born out of the
Green Movement continue to be available electronically. As
elsewhere, social media including Facebook and Viber serve as an
important medium for transmiing everything from news of the
regime’s human rights violations to jokes with sociological insights
into rights consciousness.
294
Invoking human rights from abroad: exiled activist,
expatriate and diaspora discourses on human rights
Before the Green Movement, human rights had become a language
widely deployed by diaspora Iranians who actively opposed the
Islamic regime in power. Members of the Mujahedin-e Khalq,
monarists and leists all deployed human rights discourses in
highly politicized ways to aa the moral legitimacy of the Islamic
Republic. For many adherents of these ideologies, there was lile
difference between Iran’s Islamists, whether they identified as
hardliner or reformer. us, these groups refused to engage with
Islamic reformers and, at the same time, Islamic reformers (as well as
secular rights activists operating within the country) preferred to
keep their distance from these groups in order to evade arges of
conspiring against the regime. ese dynamics produced a glaring
distinction between the cautious, incremental, and oen religiously-
based rights claims being put forth within Iran and the loud, hyper-
politicized and oen sensationalized human rights discourses being
waged abroad.
With the considerable barriers to activism in place following the
2009 elections, combined with the large number of Islamist
reformers and civil society activists who went into exile in its
aermath, a significant amount of internally-based activism moved
abroad. Tapping into their networks inside the country (and now
abroad), these exiled political and civil society activists aempted to
spearhead initiatives to put pressure on conservatives in power and
aid fellow activists still operating within Iran. ese activists who
regularly identified as ‘human rights defenders’ and/or invoked the
language of human rights in interviews, worked on initiatives su
as compiling and updating information about the numbers, status
and conditions faced by political prisoners in Iranian jails. Exiled
Islamists, many of whom previously enjoyed regime insider status,
began meeting and collaborating with a new generation of secular
295
diaspora Iranians who, having spent formidable years abroad, did
not have the same highly arged ideological commitments of their
parents’ generation.
us, the post-2009 election era produced some fascinating
developments in diaspora-based human rights discourses and
advocacy. Namely, it has given rise to forms of diaspora human
rights activism that are typically less politicized, less polarizing, less
ideological, more inclusive and more closely aligned with what has
come to be known as professional human rights advocacy
internationally. In line with the flurry of rights activism spurred by
the 2009 cradown and the Green Movement,14 these initiatives
tend to bridge longstanding secular–Islamist and internal–diaspora
divides. A notable example of this type of an initiative is the
International Campaign for Human Rights in Iran, directed by
former Human Rights Wat Iran researer Hadi Ghaemi. is
advocacy group with its ties to both Iranian-Americans and recent
reformist exiles, as well as impressive connections with activists and
victims inside Iran, is non-ideological and successfully incorporates
religious and secular actors and issues into its work. Despite these
impressive developments, the degree to whi su foreign-based
human rights initiatives have impacted the behavior of the regime,
though difficult to gauge, appears modest to date.
One area in whi the human rights politics of the Iranian
diaspora has had a more manifest impact has been in the realm of
human rights norm diffusion. Human rights and political activists
living abroad oen diffuse human rights norms and discourses inside
Iran’s borders via foreign-based (and oen Western government
funded) Farsi language media. roughout 2012 and 2013, in its
“Sixty Minutes” newscasts, BBC Persian frequently featured news
and interviews in whi the human rights frame was used,
sometimes on several separate occasions in the same hour-long
broadcast. e frame could appear in news of the findings of a U.N.
or NGO human rights report, BBC correspondents’ own reporting on
296
the plight of political prisoners, restrictions on press freedom or the
state of women’s rights. ese reports are frequently followed by an
interview with an Iranian human rights activist inside Iran or in
exile. e U.S.-funded Radio Farda even broadcasts a weekly
program called “Human Rights” in whi the host largely ronicles
news of recent detentions, releases or summons of political
prisoners, executions and limits on press freedom among other
human rights developments and features interviews with victims’
families. Manoto TV, a London-based satellite TV annel also
includes human rights reporting in its news coverage and regularly
takes up human rights related topics in its social programming. In
light of the severe restrictions and state control of domestic
television annels, su foreign-based television and to a lesser
extent radio programs enjoy large audiences inside Iran. For
example, in Mar 2012, BBC Persian announced that its TV
audience has doubled from three million to six million viewers in
Iran since 2009, noting that the numbers are likely deflated due to
the reluctance of many to admit to a surveyor that they wat
banned coverage, and the fact that the number does not include their
internet audience.15 Another avenue for human rights norm
diffusion has been through diaspora-produced songs addressing the
plights of political prisoners, Iran’s executions, or the Islamic
Republic’s repression more broadly. Due to restrictions on pop music
following the revolution, music produced in the diaspora has always
been widely consumed through underground sales inside Iran.
Hardliner/conservative responses to human rights
allenges
Conservatives in power continue to take a variety of contradictory
positions on the human rights paradigm and arges of human
rights violations waged against them. e most prevalent discourse
297
simultaneously assert both that human rights are being fully
respected and realized in the Islamic Republic and that international
human rights allenges are baseless because they are rooted in
Western political interests. Human rights allenges are labeled
Western political tools (abzarha-ye gharbi) or Western propaganda
(tablighat`e ghrabi). ey also arge human rights allenges with
undermining Islamic values and the foundations of the Islamic
Republic, highlighting, for example, gay rights as demonstrative of
the incompatibility of the framework with Islamic mores.
ey further aempt to delegitimize human rights by pointing to
violence or discrimination in Western countries. For example,
compare Iran’s willingness to close down the Kahrizak prison, where
some of the worst cases of post-2009 election torture and deaths
surfaced, to the U.S.’ unwillingness to close the Guantanamo Bay
detention facility.16 Additionally, they almost exclusively respond to
international human rights critiques, rather than those made by
Iranians within the country or abroad, finding those allenges
easier to dispose of through anti-imperialist discourses and the
highlighting of Western double standards. For example, in reference
to the criticisms put forth by the U.N. Special Rapporteur for Iran,
Mohammad Javad Larijani, the head of the judiciary’s Human
Rights Commiee, puts forth a favorite conservative refrain:
We are not against the Special Rapporteur system. In fact, we support a non-
discriminatory Special Rapporteur system and were among the founders of the system
at the United Nations … We consider the designation of a Special Rapporteur [for Iran]
invalid. Westerners have friends in the region who have not held elections even once, or
in Bahrain, the people protest for fair elections, but no one is concerned about them.17
Internal incidents, whi activists label as human rights violations,
are oen blamed on foreign intelligence and sabotage. For instance,
when a series of acid aas took place in Esfahan in the fall of 2014,
some conservative officials aributed the incidents to British
intelligence or other “foreign hands.”18 ey also defamed human
rights critics abroad through state-run or affiliated media. In one
298
example, state television aired fabricated news that Masih Alinejad
who had spearheaded the “My Stealthy Freedom” Facebook
campaign featuring pictures of women without a hijab in Iran, had
been raped by three men in front of her son. In another case, a
conservative allied newspaper reported that WikiLeaks had revealed
that Ahmad Shaheed, the U.N. Special Rapporteur for Iran, had
received funding from Saudi Arabia—a report that WikiLeaks
quily denied.
roughout the life of the Islamic Republic, while conservatives
and hardliners aempted to delegitimize human rights claims as
foreign and a product of Western political agendas, they felt enough
of the normative force of international human rights criticisms to
create a number of ‘human rights’ institutions with the clear intent
to co-opt the framework. e Islamic Human Rights Commission
created in 1995, the Judiciary’s Human Rights Council created in
2005, and the Parliament’s Human Rights Commiee created in 2008
are institutions closely linked to the state whi have been designed
to manage and co-opt the human rights frame, with occasional signs
of some (mainly the Islamic Human Rights Commission) developing
more independent institutional cultures. e Judiciary’s Human
Rights Council for example was comprised of the Interior Minister,
Intelligence Minister, the Aorney General and the Foreign Minister.
In 2014, it held a series of “Expert Conferences on Human Rights”
with themes whi included “e rights of the accused” and
“promoting human rights.”19 While su window-dressing is typical
of authoritarian regimes’ aempts to co-opt the human rights
framework, these measures are minimalist in nature compared to
other authoritarian contexts. Perhaps this is reflective of the regime’s
sense that the human rights allenges it faces are manageable and
currently pose lile threat.
Popular rights consciousness and contestation
299
In any society, the degree to whi citizens come to view themselves
as rights-bearing, adopt the view that their rights or other
individuals’ rights are being violated, and find the violation of theirs
or others’ rights so unjust that it warrants engaging in public
contention is in constant flux. In the aermath of the 2009 Iranian
presidential elections, rights claims put forth by Green Movement
leaders, victims, and sympathetic clerics all infused Iranian society
with heightened rights consciousness. is gave impetus to
allenges to the state’s excesses. e Green Movement’s
incorporation of women’s rights, religious minority rights, and social
and political rights further expanded the scope of this rights
consciousness.
Ascertaining the precise level of rights consciousness and rights
subjectivities of Iranians since the Green Movement, however, is a
more difficult task. On the one hand, it is natural that, with the
passage of time, the population did not maintain the same intense
politicization and urgency to reclaim lost rights as it had in the
summer of 2009. With months turning into years, the demands of
everyday life and survival (particularly under sanctions), and the
emergence of new political dramas, su as the 2013 elections or the
nuclear standoff with the West, came to dominate the public’s
aention. It became easy to push aside the emotions whi
motivated political contestation and rights claims. Mir Hossein
Mousavi himself seemed to have foreseen the need for the
population to return to the demands of life and survival when he
stated in 2010 that “Resistance is a holy endeavor, but it is not
perpetual. What is perpetual is life.”20 Further, while the widespread
human rights frame in diaspora-based discourses and media likely
results in considerable human rights norm diffusion and helps to
retain the regime’s repression within public consciousness, this, is
not necessarily reflective of popular views inside Iran. It may be that
those who le Iran in 2009 remain immersed in the events that led to
their exile, while Iran’s population has to a greater extent moved on.
300
Finally, given their traumatic experiences with repression, violence,
and war in the 1980s, coupled with the violent turn of many of the
Arab world’s 2011 uprisings, Iranians have signaled a willingness to
coexist with hardliners’ repression while continuing to seek the only
avenue for ange that does not carry with it a substantial risk of
being subject to state violence, namely: pursuing incremental rights
gains through continued support for the Islamist reform project.
At the same time, the fact that protesting populations have
retreated from Tehran’s streets does not mean that a significant—
even if dormant—rights consciousness does not endure. To the
contrary, there are many indications that the 2009 cradown and
ensuing state of repression remains a widespread grievance within
popular political consciousness. is awareness can be seen in the
ants demanding the release of Mousavi, Karroubi and ‘the political
prisoner’ whenever opportunities for mass public gatherings surface.
is was seen in the street celebrations following Rouhani’s 2013
election victory and even the announcement of a nuclear agreement
between Iran and world powers in July 2015, whi led again to
videos of crowds anting “Moussavi, Karroubi, must be freed.”
What cannot be seen may serve as an even beer indication of the
extent to whi grievances continue to be understood as rights
violations. As Asef Bayat’s analysis of street politics and the political
street in the contemporary Middle East makes clear, in authoritarian
seings grievances are expressed, and resistance takes shape, not in
formal public gatherings su as protests or organized meetings, but
in the conduct of everyday life’s interactions. Bayat calls this the
expanding public sphere, including within this site everything from
street vendors, corner grocers, taxicabs, or other places where people
informally interact.21
is analysis sheds important light on segments of the population
whi have not forgoen the 2009–10 cradown and whi
continue to experience the diffusion of human rights norms and
discourses via foreign-based and social media. eir rights
301
consciousness and the willingness to contest rights may simply be
dormant until a safer opening for contention presents itself or a new
incident of repression serves as a spark. e regime’s aempts to
discredit human rights, human rights allenges, and human rights
advocates are staples of authoritarianism in the region. is carries
significant weight mainly with the regime’s ideological support base
while the minimalist state institutions created to co-opt the human
rights framework are largely for foreign consumption. Neither is
likely to detract from the increased acceptance of the notion of
human rights among a sizable segment of the population, whi
holds deep grievances against the government and its repression.
302
Conclusion
As an enduring legacy of the Green Movement, the language of
human rights has become a key fixture of opposition and civil
society discourses allenging a range of policies and actions of the
state in Iran. While being more widely deployed by exiled and
diaspora figures, the human rights framework has also increased its
domestic presence and legitimacy in the Islamic Republic. e fact
that so many highly regarded Iranian political and civil society
figures self-identify as ‘human rights activists’ is reflective of a
normalization of the human rights paradigm. is has come to be
largely unencumbered by questions of Western double-standards,
cultural imposition and Islamic authenticity whi have, in the past
oen produced ambivalence about human rights among significant
segments of the population. Similarly, the continued centrality of
‘the political prisoner’ within public consciousness serves as a
constant reminder of the regime’s repression, while providing
frequent opportunities to invoke human rights, either through
religious analogy or in a more self-standing and secular manner. At
the same time, the dynamics set in motion by the Green movement,
including the wave of exiles produced by the cradown, have
contributed to a significant transformation of diaspora human rights
discourses and activism. Iranian diaspora discourses can be
considered increasingly more inclusive, both in its range of rights
recognized and its ability to traverse religious–secular divides, as
well as being more professional and depoliticized in its tenor. ese
developments may pave the way for potentially more serious human
rights allenges to the regime being waged from abroad in the
future.
303
Despite these gains, the future of human rights contestation in
Iran is uncertain. Organized human rights and women’s rights
activism and social movements inside the country have been forced
to retreat. Additionally, there are limits to the activism that has
moved abroad or online. While a case for relatively high levels of
rights consciousness can be made, there are few indicators that there
is an appetite for mass public contention in the name of claiming
rights in the present moment. Further, other than their acquiescence
to the Rouhani presidency, whi itself has yet to bear any fruit, to
date the human rights allenges posed to the ruling Islamist regime
appear to have had lile tangible impact on the country’s political
practices. Finally, the standoff with the West over the nuclear issue
provided the regime with ample excuse for securitization of the
state, further weakened Iran’s fledgling civil society, and produced
social and economic rights violations. One can only hope that once
that issue is resolved, Iran’s reformers and activists will find
themselves in an expanded space to further their rights agenda.
304
Notes
1 Shadi Mokhtari, “e Sear for Human Rights Within an Islamic Framework in Iran,”
The Muslim World vol. 94, no. 4 (October 1, 2004): 469–79, accessed September 4, 2016,
doi:10.1111/j.1478-1913.2004.00069.x.
2 Shadi Mokhtari, “‘is Government is Neither Islamic nor a Republic’: Response to the
2009 Post-election Cradown,” in Power and Change in Iran: Politics of Contention and
Concilliation (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2016), 251–82.
3 Mir Hossein Mousavi, “Statement Number Fieen” (June 16, 2010).
4 For a discussion of the secularization of political discourse spurred by the Green
Movement see Farhad Khosrowkhavar, “e Green Movement: Democratization and
Secularization from Below,” in Civil Society and Democracy in Iran (New York:
Lexington Books, n.d.), 39–77.
5 “Ahmed Shaheed English Translation of Dra Citizenship Rights Charter,” accessed
August 26, 2015, hp://shaheedoniran.org/english/sources/documents/citizenship-
rights-arter/.
6 “Hassan Rouhani Calls for Distinguishing between Political Crimes and Security
Crimes,” BBC Persian, January 28, 2015, accessed September 4, 2016,
www.bbc.com/persian/iran/2015/06/150628_l39_rowhani_political_crimes.
7 “Zarif in the Austrian Parliament: In Iran We Do Not Have Politically Motivated
Executions,” accessed July 16, 2015, www.radiofarda.com/content/f10-iran-austria-zarif-
parliament-human-rights-executions/25303031.html.
8 “High Hopes, Tempered Expectations: Views from Iran on the Nuclear Negotiations”
(International Campaign for Human Rights in Iran, June 2015), accessed September 4,
2016, www.iranhumanrights.org/wp-content/uploads/Briefing-ICHRI-
NuclearNegotiations-June2015 .
9 “Ayatollah Seyed Ali Dasgheib’s Visit with Reformers in Fars Province,” Tribun-E
Zamane, November 5, 2013.
305
10 “e Issue Is Human Dignity and Faith-Based Rights,” December 27, 2012, accessed
September 4, 2016,
www.jamaran.ir/fa/n23361/%D8%B3%D8%B1%D9%88%DB%8C%D8%B3_%D9%87%D8%A
7%DB%8C_%D8%A7%D8%B5%D9%84%DB%8C/%D8%AC%D8%A7%D9%85%D8%B9%D9
%87/%D9%BE%DB%8C%D8%A7%D9%85_%D8%AD%D8%B6%D8%B1%D8%AA_%D8%A2
%DB%8C%D8%AA_%D8%A7%D9%84%D9%84%D9%87_%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B9%D8%B
8%D9%85%DB%8C_%D9%85%D9%88%D8%B3%D9%88%DB%8C_%D8%A7%D8%B1%D8%
AF%D8%A8%DB%8C%D9%84%DB%8C.
11 Fathollah-Nejad, Ali, “Iran’s Civil Society Grappling with a Triangular Dynamic,” in
Civil Society in Syria and Iran: Activism in Authoritarian Contexts, Paul Aarts and
Francesco Cavatorta eds, (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2013).
12 “Statement of Five Jailed Political Prisoners on the Occasion of International Human
Rights Day,” Saham News, accessed August 27, 2015,
hp://sahamnews.org/2014/12/271783/.
13 Benjamin Staursky, The Promise and Perils of Transnationalization: NGO Activism
and the Socialization of Women’s Human Rights in Egypt and Iran, Routledge Advances
in International Relations and Global Politics 102 (New York: Routledge, 2013) 129.
14 Khosrowkhavar, “e Green Movement: Democratization and Secularization from
Below.”
15 “BBC Persian Audience Doubles to Six Million.” BBC (February 29, 2012) accessed
September 4, 2016, www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-middle-east-17200494.
16 “Mohammad Javad Larijani in the Expert Gathering of the Human Rights Commiee:
We Do Not Have a Problem with a Non-Discriminatory Human Rights Special
Rapparteur,” accessed July 16, 2015, hp://dadiran.ir/Default.aspx?
tabid=2351&articleType=ArticleView&articleId=75636.
17 Ibid.
18 “Maslahi: British Intelligence Is Behind Esfahan’s Acid Aas,” October 30, 2014,
www.bbc.com/persian/iran/2014/10/141030_nm_acid_aa_moslahi_isfahan; “What
Do Iranian Officials Say About Esfahan’s Acid Aas,” accessed August 27, 2015,
www.bbc.com/persian/iran/2014/10/141021_nm_acid_aas_isfahan_authorities.
306
19 “e Sixth Expert Conference on Human Rights Was Held,” accessed July 16, 2015,
www.bibaknews.com/%D8%B5%D9%81%D8%AD%D9%87-%D8%A7%D9%88%D9%84-
%D8%B9%D9%85%D9%88%D9%85%DB%8C/%D9%85%D9%87%D9%85%D8%AA%D8%B1%
DB%8C%D9%86%E2%80%8C%D8%B9%D9%86%D8%A7%D9%88%DB%8C%D9%86/374574-
%D8%B4%D8%B4%D9%85%DB%8C%D9%86-%D9%86%D8%B4%D8%B3%D8%AA-
%D8%AA%D8%AE%D8%B5%D8%B5%DB%8C-%D8%AD%D9%82%D9%88%D9%82-
%D8%A8%D8%B1%DA%AF%D8%B2%D8%A7%D8%B1. “Fih Expert Gathering on
Human Rights with the Topic of ‘Rights of the Accused,’” accessed July 16, 2015,
www.yjc.ir/fa/news/4935775/%D9%BE%D9%86%D8%AC%D9%85%DB%8C%D9%86-
%D9%86%D8%B4%D8%B3%D8%AA-%D8%AA%D8%AE%D8%B5%D8%B5%DB%8C-
%D8%AD%D9%82%D9%88%D9%82-%D8%A8%D8%B4%D8%B1-%D8%A8%D8%A7-
%D9%85%D9%88%D8%B6%D9%88%D8%B9-%D8%AD%D9%82%D9%88%D9%82-
%D9%85%D8%AA%D9%87%D9%85.
20 Mir Hossein Mousavi, “Statement Number irteen.”
21 Asef Bayat, Life as Politics: How Ordinary People Change the Middle East (Redwood
City, CA: Stanford University Press, 2010), 11–14.
307
Selected Bibliography
Aarts, Paul, and Francesco Cavatorta, eds. Civil Society in Syria and
Iran: Activism in Authoritarian Contexts. Boulder, CO.: Lynne
Rienner Publishers, 2013.
Abbasgholizadeh, Mahboubeh. “‘To Do Something We Are Unable to
Do in Iran’: Cyberspace, the Public Sphere, and the Iranian
Women’s Movement.” Signs vol. 39, no. 4 (June 1, 2014): 831–40.
doi: 10.1086/675722.
Ghamari-tabrizi, Behrooz. “Women’s Rights, Shari`a Law, and the
Secularization of Islam in Iran.” International Journal of Politics,
Culture, and Society vol. 26, no. 3 (September 2013): 237–53. doi:
hp://dx.doi.org.proxyau.wrlc.org/10.1007/s10767-013-9143-x.
Hashemi, Nader, and Danny Postel, eds. The People Reloaded: The
Green Movement and the Struggle for Iran’s Future. Brooklyn,
NY: Melville House Pub, 2010.
Hoodfar, Homa, and Fatemeh Sadeghi. “Against All Odds: e
Women’s Movement in the Islamic Republic of Iran.”
Development vol. 52, no. 2 (June 2009): 215–23. doi:
hp://dx.doi.org.proxyau.wrlc.org/10.1057/dev.2009.19.
Jahanbegloo, Ramin, ed. Civil Society and Democracy in Iran. Global
Encounters: Studies in Comparative Political Theory. Lanham,
MD: Lexington Books, 2012.
Khosrowkhavar, Farhad. “e Green Movement: Democratization
and Secularization from Below.” In Civil Society and Democracy
in Iran, 39–77. New York: Lexington Books, n.d.
Kurzman, Charles. “e Arab Spring: Ideals of the Iranian Green
Movement, Methods of the Iranian Revolution.” International
Journal of Middle East Studies vol. 44, no. 1 (February 2012): 162
308
–5. doi:
hp://dx.doi.org.proxyau.wrlc.org/10.1017/S0020743811001346.
Mokhtari, Shadi. “e Sear for Human Rights Within an Islamic
Framework in Iran.” The Muslim World vol. 94, no. 4 (October 1,
2004): 469–79. doi: 10.1111/j.1478-1913.2004.00069.x.
Mokhtari, Shadi. “‘is Government Is Neither Islamic Nor a
Republic’: Response to the 2009 Post-Election Cradown.” In
Power and Change in Iran: Politics of Contention and
Concilliation. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2016.
Osanloo, Arzoo. The Politics of Women’s Rights in Iran. Princeton,
NJ: Princeton University Press, 2009.
Staursky, Benjamin. The Promise and Perils of
Transnationalization: NGO Activism and the Socialization of
Women’s Human Rights in Egypt and Iran. Routledge Advances
in International Relations and Global Politics 102. New York:
Routledge, 2013.
309
9
Narrating Law
Israel and the Occupied Territories
Kathleen Cavanaugh
310
Introduction
e case of Israel–Palestine is best aracterized as a ‘metaconflict,’1
enveloping not one, but two conflicts.2 ere is the conflict itself, one
based on a question of territorial control that has, to date, claimed
6,942 Palestinians and 1,127 Israeli victims (whi includes 350
members of the security forces).3 ere is also a conflict about the
nature of the conflict; narratives and counter-narratives wrestling for
the hegemonic control on how the history of the Israeli-Palestinian
conflict is told—a Rashômon effect.4
Explaining the badrop to the conflict in Israel and the Occupied
Territories is to constantly engage in the push and pull of these
distinct and oen conflicting historical narratives that inform (and
underpin) how international law has been enlisted to support (or
deny) competing claims to territory. For Israelis, land claims to
Palestine are based on religious, historical and cultural preservation
arguments,5 and in undertaking military operations, they argue that
they are exercising their right of self-defense. Palestinians argue that
they have territorial entitlement over the land where they have lived
for centuries, and in exercising a right to resist, they are in pursuit of
their legitimate right to self-determination.6
Creating a memory of state has become critical to the state-
building project for both Israelis and Palestinians. As Refaat Alareer
has reflected, “[s]ometimes a homeland becomes a tale. We love the
story because it is about our homeland and we love our homeland
even more because of the story”.7 Within official Israeli state
discourse, one aspect in constructing that story has been to allenge
Palestinian national identity (and therefore the legitimacy of claims
to territory). As I have noted elsewhere, “[e]ndeavors to allenge
the rootedness of the Palestinian national identity have become part
311
of the ‘official history’ of the state. e intent is clear; de-link the
peoples from the territory (and, therefore, their self-determination
claims) by suggesting an imagination of community.”8 Challenging
Palestinian national identity, therefore, serves two purposes. It
reinforces Israel arguments that at the time Israel seized the territory
it was sui generis.9 Arguing an imagination of community also
serves a second critical function: it allows Israel to shed its status as
occupier.
Su historical resurfacing propels certain ‘truths’ whilst
discarding other (and oen conflicting) aspects or accounts that
allenge the official state narrative. e significance of this
resurfacing becomes clear as we turn to the political struggle over
how (and what) international legal regimes apply to the Occupied
Territories. While Israeli state policies and practices give rise to a
number of issues that engage the international legal regimes, it is the
Israeli selement policy that so “dramatically expose[s] the
dissonance between government policies and the formal legal
framework of belligerent occupation.”10 It is also where the religious,
historical and cultural preservation arguments converge.
is apter will, therefore, examine how the historical-legal
contestations over Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and Gaza
shape the official state policies and practices on the issue of
selements. e first section will begin by examining the official
Israeli history-telling of Balfour Agreement, the 1948 and 1967 Arab
–Israeli wars and, more recently, the failed peace initiatives and the
Israeli ‘withdrawal’ in Gaza. e official state view of these
historical events is not just performative but these partial history-
tellings also provide a narrative aritecture from whi the States’
arguments as to its international legal obligations (on selements,
land expropriation, human rights obligation) are built. e second
half of the apter will then examine how the state has used a
broader legal contestation over the meaning of occupation and
contested history-tellings in order to create an occupation/non-
312
occupation indeterminacy that underpins Israel’s selement policy
in the Occupied Territories.
313
History-telling
In creating a memory of state, the official Israeli history-telling of
the British Mandate period recognizes the 1917 ‘Balfour’ agreement,
in whi British Foreign Minister, Arthur Balfour declared British
government support for “a Jewish national home in Palestine.”11
What is not recognized is an earlier agreement made between the
British High Commissioner in Egypt, Sir Henry McMahon, and
Husayn ibn `Ali. In a series of correspondence, dated 1915–16, the
British promised to establish an independent Arab state (in the Arab
provinces of the Ooman Empire, whi included the region of
Palestine) in exange for support in its war effort against the
Ooman Empire. Limiting the historical context to the contents of
Balfour, the State recognizes “only the ‘civil and religious’ rights of
the inhabitants of Palestine are mentioned as rendering protection
[with] no mention of the national rights of the Arab people.” is
plays out, as detailed later in this apter, when turning to the
question of land and law where this partial history telling has
become part of the State’s arguments for a legal ‘right to sele.’12
Central to Israel’s official State narrative of the 1948 Arab–Israeli
war is the reproduction of a “particular way of knowing and a
particular kind of knowledge, one that served certain needs and
furthered certain goals” (including the appropriation of land and
property). 13 e State enlisted political, educational, and cultural
apparatus14 in order to narrate a particular Zionist memory about
the events of 1948 (referred to by Israelis as ‘Milhemet Ha-atzma`ut,’
or ‘War of Independence’) one in whi Palestinians were not
expelled, but rather le what had been British-mandate Palestine,
whi allowed Israel to gain control over significant tracts of land,
including approximately 500 villages.15 is, in turn, “enabled most
314
Israeli Jews to ‘forget’ what they once ‘knew’—that during the 1948
Arab–Israeli war a large number of Palestinian Arabs were
ethnically cleansed from the territories that became the state of
Israel.”16
In contrast, that Palestinian Arabs were the victims of the 1948
war is a central element found in Palestinian narratives around ‘al-
Nakbah’ or ‘the Catastrophe.’ Palestinians draw their historical
memories of 1948 from the oral testimony of those who fled (or were
expelled) as well as the physical remnants of villages destroyed and
Arab homes and neighborhoods now occupied by Jews.17 In the
Palestinian narration of ‘al-Nakbah,’ approximately 900,000–1
million Palestinians either fled or were expelled from their homes,
Palestinian lands were annexed and over 500 Palestinian villages
were destroyed by Israel.18 is narrative was given legal legs
through U.N. resolutions and other texts of international law, whi
recognized Palestinians as victims and stipulated meanisms for
rectification and restitution, most notably a ‘right to return.’
Contrasting narratives also lier accounts of the 1967 Arab–Israeli
war. Israelis refer to this period as the ‘Six Day War’ whi resulted
in a transfer of control over disputed territory and the establishment
of selements in ‘Judea and Samaria,’ considered to be the biblical
lands of the Jewish people. Israeli officials claim that the status of
these areas was sui generis because, at the time of conquest, they
were controlled by, but not sovereign to, Egypt and Jordan,
respectively;19 a point that will resurface as we turn to Israel’s
position on the applicability of international legal regimes in the
Occupied Territories. In contrast, Palestinians argue that in the ‘al-
Naksah’ (or ‘the setba’), Israel seized Egyptian, Syrian and
Jordanian territory and established selements in the West Bank,
Gaza, and the Sinai Peninsula in violation of international law. e
international community response was to pass U.N. Security Council
Resolution 242 that requires,
315
[…] withdrawal of Israeli armed forces from territories20 occupied in the recent conflict;
termination of all claims or states of belligerency and respect for and anowledgement
of the sovereignty, territorial integrity and political independence of every state in the
area and their right to live in peace within secure and recognized boundaries free from
threats or acts of force.21
More contemporaneously, failures to move the interim Oslo Accords
to a final negotiated agreement are either framed as generous
concessions to facilitate peace (official Israeli discourse) or aempts
to permanently disenfranise and fragment Palestinians from
territory (for Palestinians). is is particularly true for Camp David
II, the July 2000 negotiations convened by U.S. President Bill Clinton
and Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak had wanted to bypass
the interim steps outlined under the Wye Agreement22 and push for
a final agreement, whi would result in a two state solution. e
negotiations failed to rea an agreement and a very public
contestation over the reasons for its failure followed. Israel argues
that it was generous in handing over 95 percent of the West Bank
and Gaza to Palestinian control and that in the interest of national
security it had to maintain control over selements and security
zones in the West Bank. In contrast, the Palestinians claim that, if
accepted, the agreement would have le them with only 22 percent
of the territory of what was originally Palestine. ey argue that the
maintenance of selements and security zones within the Occupied
Territories would have divided the Palestinian state into
disconnected regions, a situation that would not free them from
Israeli occupation and would not make for a truly independent
state.23
Finally, in September 2005, Israel evacuated selements and
withdrew military personnel from Gaza but maintained border, sea,
and air control.24 Israel has argued that in removing Israeli military
bases and Jewish selers, Gaza was no longer Occupied Territory, a
point of legal contestation between Israel and the international
community.25 is position sits uneasily with one that Israel had
316
adopted earlier, that Gaza and the West Bank were never occupied.
Israel’s position, as noted earlier, is that as the West Bank and Gaza
were previously controlled by, but not sovereign to Egypt and
Jordan, these territories were sui generis. erefore, Israel has stated
that these are ‘administered,’ but not occupied territories. Had Israel
accepted its status as occupier, rather than administrator, it would
have been constrained from permanently seizing or seling in
territory acquired by force.
What emerges from this brief examination of these historical
markers is that if history has provided the grounding for creating
memories of state, then law has become an essential tool in
providing legitimacy to how it is constructed and protected. is is,
of course, not unique to the Israeli–Palestinian case; trying to de-link
international law from its political roots is, as Koskenniemi has
remarked, “pointless:”
… as international actors routinely allenge ea other by invoking legal rules and
principles on whi they have projected meanings that support their preferences and
counteract those of their opponents. In law, political struggle is waged on what legal
words su as ‘aggression,’ ‘self-determination,’ ‘self-defence,’ ‘terrorist’ or jus cogens
mean, whose policy will they include, whose will they oppose. To think of this struggle
as hegemonic is to understand that the objective of the contestants is to make their
partial view of that meaning appear as the total view, their preference seem like the
universal preference.26
erefore, in examining the approa to international law in the
occupied territories, the first question we must ask is “what or whose
view of international law is meant.”27 Political forces and states’
interests have endeavored to frame how we understand the
underpinning of the conflict, with national security discourse
displacing the language of occupation. e conflict is now narrated
as either an international conflict between two States, ea
employing different tactics to stake a claim over the ‘disputed
territories,’ or as an internal dispute between the State of Israel and
‘terrorist’ groups that seek to undermine the very existence of the
317
State. In examining just how international law has evolved against
this badrop, what emerges is a hegemonic contest, a performance
of sorts where law has become the surface over whi political (and
territorial) struggles are waged. Su public performances are part of
a larger political project where Israel shis its status from
“benevolent occupier”28 to sovereign. Within this political project,
law is best understood as,
[…] a surface over whi political opponents engage in hegemonic practices, trying to
enlist its rules, principles and institutions on their side, making sure they do not support
the adversary. In order to bring that perspective into focus, analysis must be shied
from rules to broad themes of legal argument within whi hegemonic contestation
takes place.29
Yet this refocusing and shiing from the legal to the political arena
has obfuscated the very core of the conflict itself—the military
occupation. In this historical resurfacing, captured so brilliantly in
the Levy Report,30 Israel has endeavored to shed its occupier status
and the international legal obligations aaed to it. Pulling the
discourse ba to the language of occupation poses a second
allenge. As Eyal Benvenisti has argued, until recently, discussions
related to occupation law were confined to Israel in the Palestinian
territories.31 Since the U.S. invasion of Iraq in 2003, however, there
has been an explosion of solarly work, state practice, judicial
opinions, U.N.-sponsored activity, and emerging cognate doctrines
all of whi relate to the laws of occupation. While this body of
work has gone some way to develop international law on
occupation, it is also riddled with inconsistencies. Without a
coherent roadmap, these varying legal arguments have allowed
political opponents in the Israeli–Palestinian conflict to make their
partial reading of a particular meaning appear as the total view.
318
Lawfare32
is political struggle over how (and what) international legal
regimes33 apply to the Occupied Territories34 is complex and
contested. e first point of contestation relates to the question of
occupation itself. Israel’s position with regard to its obligations
under the laws of belligerent occupation in the Occupied Territories
is threefold. First, although Israel had initially accepted the
applicability of the Geneva Conventions, in 1968 Israel adopted the
‘missing reversioner’35 argument, whi states that ‘belligerent
occupation’ presumes the displacement of a ‘High Contracting Party’
within the meaning of common Article 2 of the Geneva
Conventions. Lawful control of contested territory would then
‘revert’ to this party upon cessation of hostilities.36 Israel’s argument
here is that neither Jordan nor Egypt37 had a lawful territorial
entitlement to either the West Bank or Gaza Strip because this
territory was seized in an act of aggression against Israel in the 1948
–9 War of Independence. Accordingly, Israel is not bound by the
rules governing belligerent occupation as expressed in the Fourth
Geneva Convention.38 As Aeyal Gross has noted, despite this official
position that Palestinian territory is not occupied in the sense of
international humanitarian law, Israel did assume aspects of a
military administrator, including assuming some of the duties and
authorities of an occupying power. In short, he argues, “Israel has
been trying to have it both ways.”39
A second position, whi has found support amongst some
academics and advocated by the Israel High Court, is that the laws
of belligerent occupation apply to occupations of a short duration.
e regulations were not conceived for and therefore do not
accurately reflect situations of prolonged occupations, su as the
319
case of the Occupied Territories. In su circumstances, the rules
governing conduct and administration must reflect what has been
termed an evolutive approa. at is, the rules envisioned by the
Hague Regulations must develop to reflect accurately the prolonged
nature of Israeli occupation/administration in the West Bank and
Gaza Strip. is interpretation is found in a number of Israeli High
Court decisions.40
A third position, whi the Israeli government has adopted post-
Oslo, allenges fundamental concepts of belligerent occupation.
Israel has determined that belligerent occupation is based on the
boundaries of areas under Israeli Civil Administration
Administrative control. erefore, post-Oslo, Israel’s position is that
in areas turned over to the Palestinian Authority (whi includes
Gaza, Areas A and H1, and perhaps some of Area B) it is no longer a
belligerent occupier.
With regard to international human rights treaties, Israel has
argued that the laws of war supersede international human rights
law, and that the laer therefore does not apply. e State aributes
this position to a classification by the ICJ, whi describes the laws
of war as lex specialis that takes priority over international human
rights law, whi assumes a general law status.
e Israeli High Court position on application of the Fourth
Geneva Convention in the Occupied Territories is irresolute.
However, it has generally reflected the Israeli Government’s position;
that it is ‘constitutive’ rather than customary. e Court’s general
opinion is that while the Geneva Conventions may be binding on the
State of Israel they have not been adopted by the Israeli Knesset and
could not be considered part of internal Israel law. As a result, the
High Court has considered domestic application of the Conventions
to fall outside of the Court’s authority and refused to allow
individual petitioners to the High Court to rely on the Geneva
Conventions in their arguments.41
320
Narrating law, occupying justice
ese contestations over the nature and applicability of
contemporary occupation law is at the center of some of the most
polarized (and politicized) debates on the human rights violations
associated with Israeli policies and practices in the Occupied
Territories. It is a performance of sorts; violations are routinely
reported and condemned by the international community and Israel
responds, not by ignoring international law, but endeavoring to
shape it. In official state narratives, formulistic interpretations and
partial readings are applied to key legal provisions whi oen la
determinacy or strip the intent of legal provisions (especially with
regard to what constitutes military necessity or what is meant by
absolutely necessary) by streting the interpretations beyond what
they can bare. In the language that emerges, a partial view of what is
required under the laws of belligerent occupation is presented as the
total view.
At the domestic level, the Supreme Court of Israel plays a role in
creating and sustaining the legal and historical aritecture of the
State. As David Kretzmer has argued in his review of Israeli High
Court rulings on the Occupied Territories:
Given [the Court’s] perception of the political context [that of wartime], Israeli judges
will not be neutral in judging the conflicting claims of the government and Palestinians
subject to military rule. In the struggle between government policies and Palestinian
arguments of rights based on justice, international legal standards, or loy legal
principles, the Court has shown a marked preference for “state arguments.” e
dominant narrative holds that the state is being aaed, the authorities are trying to
protect it, and the ultimate duty of the Court is to assist them in this task.42
at international law has become firmly embedded in the wider
political struggle is particularly acute in the issues of land
expropriation and selements. Palestinians argue that Israeli
selement policies in the Occupied Territories is not only in
contravention of humanitarian and human rights law (a point Israel
321
contests) but, moreover, fails to comply with the Oslo agreements.
Fundamental to the debate as to whether Israeli policies in this area
are in contravention of international law are two primary questions.
First, do the rules of international law apply in the Occupied
Territories, or is there merit to the argument proffered by the Israelis,
whi contests that the length of time of occupation and the
uncertain previous tenure of Jordan and Egypt amount to a situation
of sui generis? Second, if we argue that the international law
governing belligerent occupation does apply, then do the current
Israeli practices, as outlined, create ‘facts on the ground’ whi
amount to de facto annexation of land in contested territories?43
e answer to these questions returns us ba to the question of
‘what or whose view’ of international law we accept. e
predominant view taken by the international community is that
under Article 49, paragraph 6 of the Fourth Geneva Convention “the
Israeli selements in the West Bank are unlawful.”44 In this reading,
the laws of belligerent occupation require that until final political
negotiations take place, the status quo of the occupied territories
must be maintained. Israel’s approa to selements has been
twofold. Firstly, within the public domain, it has graed together a
broader legal contestation over the meaning of occupation with
historical narratives that endeavor to uproot their status as occupier.
Secondly, it has created “facts that will predetermine the outcome of
any negotiations by making Israeli withdrawal from the seled parts
of the Territories politically unfeasible.”45
e establishment of Israeli selements in the Occupied
Territories has been the subject of a series of allenges to the Israel
High Court, with mixed results. e Court has, thus far, ruled on the
requisition of private land for selement use (allowing if the State
could demonstrate a military/security necessity46 and finding it
unlawful if the Court found the motivation was political47), but has
refused to rule on the general legality of establishing selements for
nationals of the Occupying Power in occupied territory.
322
While these legal points and counterpoints play out in the legal
and political sphere, what is without question is that,
e existence in the Territories of a large number of selers, who enjoy the full
democratic rights of Israeli citizens and for whose benefit scarce land and water
resources have been harnessed, has made the regime there mu closer to a colonial
regime than one of belligerent occupation.48
Occupying justice: land and law
Despite the terms of the Oslo agreements, it has been during the
‘peace process’ that the rate of selement growth has accelerated.
Whilst the exact number of selers living in contested territories
varies, current statistics provided by the Israeli Information Center
for Human Rights in the Occupied Territories, B`Tselem, indicates
that there are approximately 547,000 selers in the West Bank and
the population of Israeli neighborhoods in East Jerusalem numbered
196,890 people at the end of 2012.49 Most of these selements are
located in and around Jerusalem.
e “territorial and ideological base”50 for what would become a
large scale Israeli selement program in the Occupied Territories can
be traced to the 1967 Allon Plan.51 is plan was underpinned by
two primary principles. First, that Israel should retain direct control
over strategic areas of the Occupied Territories. Second, in addition
to establishing military sites in the Occupied Territories, Israel
should implement a plan of Jewish selement.52 From 1967–74,
under the leadership of Levi Eshkol and Golda Meir, 11 selements
were established. A majority of selements (nine or 82 percent) were
situated in the Jordan Valley and in the Gush Etzion area and
maintained a secular composition. Of the remaining two, one
selement was located next to the Latrun Road, and the other,
Kiryat Arba, was situated near Hebron. At this time, there were no
selements in either Gaza or in the northern part of the West Bank.
323
From 1974–7, under the Labor leadership of Yitzhak Rabin, nine new
selements were constructed. Again, a majority (six) were
established in either the Jordan Valley or the Gush Etzion Bloc. Of
the remaining three, two selements were located in ‘greater’
Jerusalem and one in the south of the West Bank.53
e election of the conservative Likud Party in 1977 would mark a
ange, both in ideology and practice in selement development.
Previously, according to Israeli policy, selements were the result of
state security needs and, in principle at least, were not to be
constructed in areas where there was a significant Arab community.
e Jewish population in these selements was mostly secular.
Under Menaem Begin and then Yitzhak Shamir, this policy, both
stated and applied, anged. e rate of selements increased. e
locations of selements oen brought new developments in close
contact with Arab villages. e composition of the selers would
also ange from one that was largely secular, to an increasingly
politicized Jewish community.54 e 1980 publication of a five-year
selement plan of the Occupied Territories (1980–5) by the
Selement Department of the World Zionist Organization highlights
the selement policy and objectives of this period:
e best and most effective way of removing every shadow of doubt about our intention
to hold on to Judea and Samaria55 forever is by speeding up the selement momentum
in these territories. e purpose of seling the areas between and around the centers
occupied by the minorities [e.g. Palestinians] is to reduce to the minimum the danger of
an additional Arab state being established in these territories. Being cut off by Jewish
selements, the minority population will find it difficult to form a territorial and
political continuity.56
From 1967 to late 2012, 125 Israeli selements were established in the
West Bank and 16 selements in the Gaza Strip and four in the
northern West Bank (both of whi were dismantled in 2005 in the
course of the Disengagement Plan).57 Additionally, 100 ‘outposts’
were built in the West Bank without official authorization but with
support and assistance from government ministries.58 In Hebron,
324
Jewish selements were established and, although these are not
considered ‘official’, they receive government support and military
protection. e government and Jerusalem Municipality have also
supported the establishment of 12 neighborhoods in areas of the
West Bank annexed by Israel in 1967 and has, since, funded a
number of ‘seler enclaves’ in Palestinian neighborhoods in East
Jerusalem.59
As competing claims to territory lie at the heart of the Israeli–
Palestinian conflict, the issue of selements is, at least in part, key to
its resolve. Yet the failure by the international community to hold
Israel accountable for its continued land expropriation for selement
expansion (and new constructions) is anging the facts on the
ground and, as Kretzmer argues, is renovating the legal aritecture
from that of a belligerent occupation to a colonial regime.
e Levy Report
In the wake of an Israeli High Court decision in 2012,60 in whi the
Court ordered the demolition the 30 apartments in a West Bank
selement that was constructed on private Palestinian land, Israeli
Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu established the Commiee to
Examine the State of Building in Judea and Samaria, led by retired
Supreme Court of Israel Justice Edmund Levy.61 In its July 2012
report (hereaer the Levy Report), the Commiee both reflects and
contests existing Israeli policies and practices.62 On the one hand, the
arguments of the Levy Commission adopt earlier state narrations of
international law, whi conclude that Israel’s selement policy
conforms to its international legal obligations. On the other, the
report goes mu further than previous Israeli state discourse and
calls upon other states to [re]evaluate their understanding of Israel’s
legal status in the Palestinian territory. Whilst the Netanyahu
government has not formally adopted the report (although there are
325
indications that the government has begun to secretly implement its
findings63), what is important to take away from the report’s
language is how the draers have projected a particular meaning on
to the concept of occupation. It is a view that sits uneasily in law,
but captures a political struggle for the hegemonic control of how
this concept is understood.
In contesting the notion of Israel as an occupier, the draers have
renovated two arguments noted earlier—the ‘missing reversioner
thesis,’ whi argues that the West Bank was never under the
authority of a sovereign state, and the notion that belligerent
occupation only applies to occupations of a short duration.64 e
report also revisits the British Mandate period but limits its reading
to the contents of the 1917 Balfour Declaration and Article 6 of the
British Mandate where it finds that in conferring to the Jewish
people a lawful “right to sele in the Land of Israel,”
… the original legal status of the territory was restored, namely, a territory designated
as a national home for the Jewish people, who had a “right of possession” to it during
Jordanian rule while they were absent from the territory for several years due to a war
imposed on them, and have now returned to it.
e report then concludes that, “from the perspective of
international law” the establishment of Jewish selements in the
West Bank is lawful.
326
Conclusion
Although the Levy report was set up specifically to determine the
legality of Israel’s selement policy, it goes mu further. Its
fractured historical reading excludes both Palestinian self-
determination claims and the 1947 U.N. Partition Plan, whi sought
to create two states for two nations in the territory of Mandatory
Palestine. It also uproots the notion of occupier and adopts,
e designation sui generis [that] literally places the West Bank and Gaza and their
populations into a state of exception, outside the rea of IHL and thus open to any and
all policies Israel may oose to impose, without fear of violating—at least according to
Israel’s interpretations—international human rights and humanitarian norms.65
at the substance of the Levy Commiee’s arguments contradicts
both international and Israeli established legal opinion, as well as the
findings of both the International Court of Justice and Israel’s
Supreme Court, is unlikely to deter proponents of this particular
narration of law. In this ‘zone of occupation’ the State can argue that
the West Bank and Gaza are not occupied territories, whilst at the
same time justify its restriction on the rights of Palestinians actions
in the occupied territories based on the law of occupation. e effect
of this occupation/non-occupation indeterminacy on the human
rights landscape in the Occupied Territory is all too clear. As the
concluding paragraphs to a 2015 Report to the Human Rights
Council summarized,
[…] the protection that international humanitarian law and international human rights
law should be providing for civilians, including ildren, across the Occupied
Palestinian Territory is distressingly absent. It is especially deplorable that Palestinian
ildren are suffering the brunt of occupation policies and practices of Israel, whether as
a result of the bloade and hostilities in Gaza, the excessive use of force by Israeli
security forces in the context of legitimate protests and peaceful demonstrations, as well
as sear operations in the refugee camps, and abuse and ill-treatment in Israeli prisons
327
[…] If another round of deadly violence is to be avoided, the underlying problems
perpetuating the conflict and the almost daily violation of the human rights of the
Palestinian people must be addressed and those responsible brought to justice.66
ere will continue to be, as there has been in the past, a hegemonic
contestation between the various ‘truth’ tellers of this region. ose
pressing for human rights and accountability may (as they have
begun to do) move with the story, shiing the language from
occupation to apartheid.67 ose supporting Israeli policies will
frame their external discourse with national security on one side and
this newly remodeled perspective of international law on the other.
In this epic bale of historical truth telling, law has become part of
the conflict—both its aggressor and its victim.
328
Notes
1 It is worth noting that this aracteristic is not unique to this case study and can be
found in other cases of protracted social conflicts. See, Brendan O’Leary and John
McGarry (eds), The Politics of Ethnic Conflict Regulation: Case Studies of Protracted
Ethnic Conflict (Abingdon: Routledge, 1993) and B. O’Leary, M. Heiberg and J. Tirman
(eds), Terror, Insurgency and the State: Ending Protracted Conflict (Philadelphia, PA:
University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007).
2 K.A. Cavanaugh, “Selective justice: the case of Israel and the Occupied Territories,”
Fordham International Law Journal vol. 26 (2003), 934–60.
3 ese figures do not include the number of Palestinians killed by Palestinians (684),
foreigners killed by Palestinians (58) or foreigners killed by Israeli security forces (12).
ese figures are current as of Mar 2015. See www.btselem.org/statistics. Last
accessed September 4, 2016.
4 See Christian Davenport, Media Bias, Perspective and State Repression: The Black
Panther Party (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009). Here Davenport’s
reference to the Rashômon effect derives from a 1950 film by Akira Kurosawa in whi
one event is witnessed by three different persons, all of whom see it from a different
perspective. Davenport has adopted this term (and we apply it here) to the tendency for
events to be perceived and reported in different ways, depending on who is telling the
story and to whom and how this relates to violence, protest, repression and peace.
5 Zionists refer to the promise by Abraham to his descendants in the Bible (Genesis 17:8),
the historic ties that the Jews have to Israel, and the need to provide a refuge to ensure
the survival of the Jewish culture in the face of European anti-Semitism.
6 For a comprehensive historical review, see Benny Morris, Righteous Victims: A History
of the Zionist-Arab Conflict, 1881–2001 (New York: First Vintage Books, 2001) and for a
review and analysis of the various peace accords, see Christine Bell, Peace Agreements
and Human Rights (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000).
https://www.btselem.org/statistics
329
7 Refaat Alareer, Gaza Writes Ba, 2014.
8 See K. Cavanaugh, “e aritecture of exclusion”, forthcoming in F. de Varennes and C.
Gardiner (eds) Routledge Handbook of Human Rights in Asia (Abingdon: Routledge,
exp. 2016).
9 suis generis is a Latin phrase used in many different contexts and is generally used when
referring to something that possesses unique aracteristics that are not easily
categorized. In the context of the Occupied Territories, it has come to be used to argue
that the territories were unique in that they were under the control of but not sovereign
to Egypt and Jordan, respectively. Israel argues that to be an ‘occupation’, the areas
must be recognized sovereign territory of the displaced states. For a detailed discussion
on this see, Yuval Shany, “Forty years aer 1967: reappraising the role and limits of the
legal discourse on occupation in the Israeli-Palestinian context,” 41 Is.L.Rev. 6, 7 (2008).
10 D. Kretzmer, The Occupation of Justice: The Supreme Court of Israel and the Occupied
Territories (New York: State University New York Press, 2002) 75.
11 The Balfour Declaration, (London: Foreign Office, November 2, 1917) reprinted in A.
Gerson, Israel, the West Bank and International Law (London: Frank Cass, 1978) 246–
252.
12 See the 2012 report of the Commiee to Examine the State of Building in Judea and
Samaria. Only the conclusion and recommendations of the report have been translated
from Hebrew to English. An English version of the first part of the report can be found
at: hp://elderofziyon.blogspot.ca/2012/07/english-translation-of-legal-
arguments.html#.Vb-hnkvyHwI
13 Z. Loman, Comrades and Enemies: Arab and Jewish Workers in Palestine,1906–1948
(Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998) 36.
14 See S Hazkani and Chris Gratien, “e Politics of 1948 in Israeli Arives,” Ooman
History Podcast, No. 166 (July 19, 2014) www.oomanhistorypodcast.com/2014/07/the-
politics-of-1948-in-israeli-arives.html. Last accessed September 4, 2016.
15 See Avi Shlaim, The War for Palestine: Rewriting the History of 1948 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2007).
330
16 See J. Beinin, “No more tears: Benny Morris and the road ba from Liberal Zionism,”
Middle East Report vol. 230 (Spring 2004) 39.
17 See E. Shoufani, “e fall of a village,” JPS vol. 1, no. 4 (Summer 1972), 109–21; N.
Nazzal, The Palestinian Exodus from Galilee, 1948 (Washington: Institute for Palestine
Studies, 1978); Salim Tamari, ed., Jerusalem 1948: The Arab Neighborhoods and Their
Fate in the War (Jerusalem: Institute of Jerusalem Studies, 1999).
18 See B. Morris, The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, 1947–1949 (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1988) 252. e number of Palestinians living in Jordan is
estimated at 1.3 million. Other Palestinians seled in Lebanon, Kuwait and Syria. Only
Jordan has granted Palestinians citizenship. It is, as Joel Beinin right argues, possible to
‘reasonably’ examine how many Palestinians were expelled and how many fled from
fear or whether the actions taken by Zionist leaders was a ‘preconceived plan’ and if
ethnic cleansing is the ‘best term to describe’ the events of that time period. What is not
part of ‘legitimate debate’ is “whether or not some 700,000 indigenous inhabitants were
expelled or fled from the territories that became the State of Israel aer the 1948 War
and that Palestinian Arab society was devastated in the process.” See J. Beinin,
“Destruction and appropriation of Palestinian history and cultural property: the
responsibilities of historians” (Paper presented at January 2015 American Historical
Association Annual Meeting, NYC).
19 For a discussion on this see, N. Gordon, Israel’s Occupation (Berkeley, CA: University of
California Press, 2008) 26 and L. Hajjar, Courting Conflict: The Israeli Military Court
System in the West Bank and Gaza (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of
California Press, 2005) 56.
20 In official U.N. languages other than English the article “the” preceded “Territories,” thus
implying that Israel has to return all the seized territory.
21 S. C. Res. 242 (1967) November 22, 1967.
22 In October 1998, e Wye River Memorandum was signed between Israel and the
Palestinian Authority. e Agreement aimed to resume the implementation of the 1995
Interim Agreement on the West Bank and the Gaza Strip (Oslo II Accord).
23 For an excellent discussion on the negotiations, see Morris (n. 7) 652–75.
331
24 For a fact sheet on the extent of these controls, see B`Tselem, “e Scope of Israeli
Control in the Gaza Strip,” January 5, 2014. Available at:
www.btselem.org/gaza_strip/gaza_status. Last accessed August 10, 2015.
25 In 2007, the then U.N. Special Rapporteur on the Situation of Human Rights in the
Occupied Palestinian Territory, John Dugard, stated that “Israel remains an occupying
Power in respect of Gaza” as it retains “effective control over Gaza by means of its
control over Gaza’s external borders, airspace, territorial waters, population registry, tax
revenues and governmental functions.” Determining whether a party to a conflict
continues to exercise effective control over an area is one element in determining if
there is an occupation. See e report of the Special Rapporteur on the situation of
human rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967, John Dugard, A/62/275,
August 17, 2007.
26 M. Koskenniemi, “International law and hegemony: a reconfiguration,” Cambridge
Review of International Affairs vol. 17, no. 2 (2004), 197–218, 199.
27 Ibid.
28 Kretzmer, The Occupation of Justice, 64–72.
29 Koskenniemi, “International law and hegemony,” 197.
30 A Commiee set up in 2012 by Benjamin Netanyahu and led by retired Supreme Court
of Israel Justice Edmund Levy to examine the legality of Selement building in the West
Bank.
31 See E. Benvenisti, The International Law of Occupation (Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 2nd ed., 2012).
32 Whilst I use this term, it is worth noting that this concept is used both by those who see
it as “a means by whi to contest the legality of a state’s wartime behavior vis-à-vis
enemies on and off the balefield” and others who argue that this is a tool specifically
developed to promote a particular position (anti-Israeli) or to support terrorism. See Lisa
Hajjar, Lawfare and Targeted Killing: Developments in the Israeli and U.S. Contexts,
Jadaliyya, January 15, 2012. Available at:
www.jadaliyya.com/pages/index/4049/lawfare-and-targeted-killing_developments-in-
the-i. Last accessed August 3, 2015.
332
33 It is generally held that there are three international legal regimes that apply to the
Occupied Territories—International Humanitarian Law, International Human Rights
Law and International Criminal Law. Under international humanitarian law, rules
governing the conduct of an occupying power are laid down in the Fourth Geneva
Convention to whi Israel is signatory, as well as the 1907 Hague Regulations. Israel is
not a signatory to the Fourth Hague Convention of 1907 or its annexed Regulations, but
the Israeli position has been to regard the Hague regulations as customary international
law. With regard to international human rights law, Israel is required to respect and
protect human rights under its obligations enumerated in a number of U.N. treaties,
whi it has ratified. ese treaties include: the International Covenant on Civil and
Political Rights (ICCPR); the International Covenant on Social, Economic and Cultural
Rights (ICSECR); the Convention Against Torture and Other Cruel, Inhuman or
Degrading Treatment or Punishment (CAT); the Convention on the Rights of a Child
(CRC); and the Convention on the Elimination of all Forms of Racial Discrimination
(CERD). ese treaties are accompanied by other international human rights standards
whi are binding on members of the U.N. and include guidelines and guiding
principles that regulate the code of conduct of law enforcement officials, and the
preventive and investigative requirements in disputed killings, the use of force and
firearms, detention and imprisonment, and victim’s rights.
34 Palestinians are subject to Israeli rule that has been jurisdictionally divided into three
areas, ea of whi has a distinct legal status. e first is the sovereign territory of
Israel, located within the 1949 armistice line (oen referred to as the ‘Green line’). e
second consists of those units/parts of the Occupied Territories, whi have been, de
facto, annexed (e.g. East Jerusalem, confiscated lands, Jewish selements and military
installations). Finally, there is the Israeli military administration that was originally
established to govern Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza. In 2005, Israel ‘withdrew’
from the Gaza strip and, since August 2005, the Military legal administration (whi
includes the Military Courts) only applies to citizens of the West Bank.
35 See Y. Blum, “e missing reversioner, reflections on the status of Judea and Samaria,”
Israel Law Review (ISRL) vol. 3 (1968), 279.
36 An excellent discussion on these points can be found in Riard Falk, Weston H. Burns,
“e relevance of international law to Israeli and Palestinian rights in the West Bank
333
and Gaza,” in E. Playfair (ed.), International Law and the Administration of Occupied
Territories (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992), 130–6, 131.
37 Egypt administered the Gaza Strip from 1948–67 but never claimed sovereignty over this
area. Jordan did establish territorial rule over the West Bank during its tenure from 1948
–67.
38 e Israeli position on the applicability of International Law in the Occupied Territories
is articulated in a paper presented by former aorney general Meir Shamgar, “e
observance of international law in the Administered Territories,” published in Israel
Yearbook on Human Rights (IYHR) vol. 1 (1971), 262–77. A copy of this text is provided
by Al Haq. Israel’s position has been to apply what it has termed ‘humanitarian
provisions’ of the Geneva Convention to the Occupied Territories although definition of
what constitutes humanitarian provisions is unclear.
39 See A. Gross’, If there are no Palestinians, there’s no Israeli occupation, Haaretz, July 10,
2012, available at: www.haaretz.com/news/diplomacy-defense/if-there-are-no-
palestinians-there-s-no-israeli-occupation-1.449988. Last accessed October 8, 2015.
40 is is particularly evident in the wide-scale anges in local law in contravention of
Article 43 of the Hague Regulations.
41 See HC 393/82, IYHR 14, 1984, 303, 793.
42 Kretzmer, The Occupation of Justice, 196.
43 Article XXXI(7) of Oslo II states: “Neither side shall initiate or take any step that will
ange the status of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip pending the outcome of the
permanent status negotiations.”
44 See Juan Pedro Saerer, head of ICRC delegation for Israel and the Occupied
Territories, in a piece published in Haaretz in reaction to the publication of the Levy
Report (November 4, 2012). See full statement at: www.haaretz.com/beta/the-levy-
report-vs-international-law-1.474129. Under Article 49, paragraph 6 of the Fourth
Geneva Convention Israel is prohibited from the transfer of all or part of its civilian
population into occupied territory. is is the view consistently stated by various U.N.
bodies as well as local based and international human rights organizations. See, e.g.
UNSC Resolution 446, Mar 22, 1979, U.N. Doc. S/RES/446 (1979); UNSC Resolution
334
452, July 20, 1979, U.N. Doc. S/RES/452 (1997); and UNSC Resolution 465, 1 Mar 1980,
U.N. Doc. S/RES/465 (1980). It must be said that whilst international community
condemnation over Israeli policies and practices in the Occupied Territories is routine
(with the notable exception of the United States) there is, in reality, very lile effort to
enforce international law or hold Israel accountable for the numerous violations it has
engaged in since 1967.
45 Kretzmer, The Occupation of Justice, 75.
46 HCJ 606/78, Ayyub v. Minister of Defence, 33(2) PD, p. 113, 1978. For more on this see M
Karayanni, Conflicts in a Conflict: A Conflict of Laws Case Study on Israel and the
Palestinian Territories (OUP, 2014) 33–40.
47 See HCJ 390/79, Dweikat et al., v. Government of Israel et al., 34(1) PD, p. 1, 1979.
48 Kretzmer, The Occupation of Justice, 75.
49 ese figures are current to May 2015 and drawn from B`Tselem’s Statistics on
Settlements and Settler Population, available at: www.btselem.org/selements/statistics.
Last accessed September 4, 2016.
50 See W.W. Harris, Taking Root: Israeli Settlement in the West Bank, the Golan and Gaza-
Sinai 1967–1980 (Chiester: Resear Studies Press, John Wiley, 1980) 36.
51 Devised by the then Minister of Labour, Yigal Allon.
52 Full translated text of this plan can be found in L. Fabian and Z. Siff (eds), Israelis
Speak About Themselves and the Palestinians (New York and Washington, D.C.:
Carnegie Endowment for International Peace, 1977), 207.
53 Statistics obtained from LAWE report, “Evaluation of Israeli selement policy and the
protest movement against selement expansion,” February 13, 1995, 2–3.
54 See D. Shipler, Arab and Jew: Wounded Spirits in a Promise Land (New York: Times
Books, 1989) 144–55.
55 Biblical term used by the Israelis to denote the West Bank.
56 See M. Drobles, Master Plan for the Development and Settlement of Judea and Samaria,
Jerusalem, 1980 cited in International Law and the Administration of Occupied
Territories, Emma Playfair (ed.) (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992) 446.
https://www.btselem.org/settlements/statistics
335
57 ese statistics are derived from B`Tselem who draw their information from the Israeli
Central Bureau of Statistics (CBS) and Jerusalem Institute for Israel Studies. See
www.btselem.org/selements/statistics. Last accessed October 15, 2015.
58 For more on this, see Yesh Din’s report, Under the Radar: Israel’s silent policy of
transforming unauthorized outposts into official selements, Mar 2015.
59 For more on the selement policy, see Report of the U.N. Secretary General to the
General Assembly on Israeli selements in the Occupied Palestinian Territory, including
East Jerusalem, and in the occupied Syrian Golan, A/HRC/28/44, Mar 9, 2015.
60 e selement was located in the Ulpana neighborhood of the West Bank. For more on
this case, see: www.haaretz.com/beta/rejecting-state-request-high-court-orders-
demolition-of-west-bank-outpost-to-go-forward-1.428776. Last accessed September 4,
2016.
61 e two other commiee members were retired District Court Judge Teia Shapiro, and
Alan Baker, a former legal advisor to Israel’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs and
Ambassador to Canada.
62 Only the conclusion and recommendations of the report have been translated from
Hebrew to English. An English version of the first part of the report can be found at:
hp://elderofziyon.blogspot.ca/2012/07/english-translation-of-legal-
arguments.html#.Vb-hnkvyHwI. Last accessed September 4, 2016.
63 See www.haaretz.com/beta/.premium-1.595479. Last accessed September 4, 2016.
64 e report argues that this does not apply to Israel’s control over the West Bank
(referred to as Judea and Samaria), as “no one can predict its termination, if at all.”
65 See L. Hajjar and M. Levin, International law, the Gaza war, and Palestine’s state of
exception, Al Jazeera, 21 November 2012. Available at:
www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2012/11/20121121103831534612.html. Last accessed
August 10, 2015.
66 Statement by Makarim Wibisono, the Special Rapporteur on the situation of human
rights in the Palestinian territories occupied since 1967 available at: A/HRC/28/78 at §73.
Earlier U.N. reports and reports by local and international NGOs also detail the use of
collective punitive measures including the demolition of houses, outside that whi is
336
required for military operations, the razing of agricultural land (and the use of
bulldozers to facilitate the operations), the encircling of towns and villages, and curfews
and closures; the erection of a barrier wall and the building of selements in to
occupied territory. For a list of all U.N. reports related to the Occupied Palestinian
Territories see: www.ohr.org/EN/Countries/MENARegion/Pages/PSIndex.aspx. For
NGO reporting on Israel and the Occupied Territories see: reports on Israel and the
Occupied Territories see: Amnesty International (amnesty.org) Human Rights Wat
(hrw.org) and B`Tselem (btselem.org).
67 See J. Reynolds and J. Dugard, “Apartheid, international law, and the Occupied
Palestinian Territory,” European Journal of International Law vol. 24, no. 3 (2013), 867–
913.
337
Selected Bibliography
Beinin, J. “No more tears: Benny Morris and the road ba from
liberal Zionism” in Middle East Report vol. 230 (2004), 38–45.
Benvenisti, E. The International Law of Occupation. 2nd ed. Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 2012.
Blum, Y., “e missing reversioner, reflections on the status of Judea
and Samaria” in Israel Law Review (ISRL) vol. 3 (1968), 279.
Boyle, FA.. Palestine, Palestinians and International Law. Atlanta,
GA: Clarity Press 2003.
Cavanaugh, KA.. “Selective justice: e case of Israel and the
Occupied Territories” in Fordham International Law Journal vol.
26 (2003), 934.
Gocek, FM. Rise of the Bourgeoisie, Demise of Empire: Ottoman
Westernization and Social Change. Oxford: Oxford University
Press, 1996.
Gordon, N. Israel’s Occupation. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA:
University of California Press, 2008.
Hajjar, L. Courting Conflict: The Israeli Military Court System in the
West Bank and Gaza. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University
of California Press, 2005.
Kretzmer, D. The Occupation of Justice: The Supreme Court of Israel
and the Occupied Territories. New York: State University New
York Press, 2002.
Kretzmer, D. “e law of belligerent occupation in the Supreme
Court of Israel,” International Review of the Red Cross vol. 94, no.
885 (2012), 207–36.
Loman, Z. Comrades and Enemies: Arab and Jewish Workers in
Palestine, 1906–1948. Berkeley, CA: University of California
Press, 1998.
338
Morris, B. Righteous Victims: A History of the Zionist-Arab Conflict,
1881–2001. New York: First Vintage Books, 2001.
Morris, Benny. The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, 1947–
1949. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988.
339
10
e United States and Israeli
Violations of International
Humanitarian Law
Stephen Zunes
340
Introduction
Violations of international humanitarian law and other human
rights abuses by governments in the Middle East and North Africa
are tragically common. ose commied by the government of Israel
are certainly not the worst in this regard. However, there is no
country engaged in su breaes of these widely-accepted legal
norms for whi the United States—whi oen sees itself as a
defender of human rights—has gone to su extent to support and
defend in the face of international criticism. Excusing Israeli
violations of international humanitarian law has overwhelming
bipartisan support in both Congress and successive administrations.
is is part of a longstanding consensus within Washington that war
crimes by U.S. allies, particularly in the strategically important
Middle East, must be ignored, downplayed, defended, and/or
covered up.
is apter looks at how the United States has played an active
role in defending Israeli violations of international humanitarian law
and in discouraging the United Nations from addressing Israeli
violations of the Fourth Geneva Convention and other human rights
and humanitarian law treaties and customs, specifically in regard to
the illegal Israeli selements in the occupied West Bank (including
East Jerusalem) and aas against civilians in the besieged Gaza
Strip. Given the international norm of the illegality of colonizing
lands seized by military force, as well as longstanding principles
regarding the protection of non-combatants in time of war, the
issues at stake go well beyond the Israeli–Palestinian conflict. e
United States has, quite appropriately, condemned acts of terrorism
and related war crimes by Hamas and other hostile Arab militia.
However, as this apter explores, the failure to hold its ally Israel
341
accountable to international legal norms has created a climate of
impunity by the region’s most powerful country to the detriment of
not just Palestinians but also for the legitimate long-term security
interests of Israel and the United States, as well as the enforceability
of international law. is is particularly problematic since, while a
just resolution to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict is a complex and
oen contentious topic, international humanitarian law and its
applications are well-established, even if oen ignored. Indeed, as
Riard Goldstone, the respected South African jurist who aired a
2009 investigation into war crimes by both Israel and Hamas, noted
in presenting his report before the U.N. Human Rights Council, “A
culture of impunity in the region has existed for too long. e la of
accountability for war crimes and possible war crimes against
humanity has reaed a crisis point.”1
342
U.S. support for illegal settlements
Article 49 of the Fourth Geneva Convention—to whi both Israel
and the United States are signatories—prohibits any occupying
power from transferring “parts of its civilian population into the
territory it occupies.”2 e United Nations has on several occasions
recognized that Israel is in violation of this critical international
treaty, including Security Council resolutions 446, 452, 465, and 471,
whi were passed without U.S. objections. e official State
Department position, in effect since 1978 and never formally
repealed, states categorically that,
While Israel may undertake, in the occupied territories, actions necessary to meet its
military needs and to provide for orderly government during the occupation, for the
reasons indicated above the establishment of the civilian selements in those territories
is inconsistent with international law.3
In addition, a landmark 2004 decision by the International Court of
Justice confirmed the illegality of the selements, noted the
illegitimacy of “any measures taken by an occupying Power in order
to organize or encourage transfers of parts of its own population into
the occupied territory.”4 Despite the fact that the World Court
decision also enjoined the United States and other signatories to
“ensure compliance by Israel with international humanitarian law,”
and despite the State Department position recognizing that the
selements are a violation of international humanitarian law, there
has been a longstanding bipartisan consensus to not force Israeli
compliance with its legal obligations.
As part of an annex in the 1978 Camp David Agreement between
Israel and Egypt, Israeli Prime Minister, Menaem Begin, promised
a five-year selement freeze. When the Israelis resumed construction
aer only three months, President Jimmy Carter refused to hold
343
Begin to his promise, even though Carter anowledged that these
selements were illegal and the United States had been given the
role of guarantor of the peace treaty. is was not the last time the
Israeli government would promise to freeze selements only to
break that promise with the understanding there would be no
serious consequences from Washington.
In 1991, President George H.W. Bush insisted on a selement
freeze as a condition to granting a controversial $10 billion loan
guarantee to Israel. In response, leading members of Congress—
including the leading candidates for the 1992 Democratic
presidential nomination—aaed Bush from the right by calling on
the president to grant the loan guarantee unconditionally. Under
pressure from the Democrats—who then controlled both houses of
Congress—as well as incipient Democratic presidential nominee Bill
Clinton, Bush capitulated. He approved the loan guarantee with
Israel in July 1992, though with the proviso that Israel would limit
new construction to the “natural growth” of existing selements
(su as building new units for adult ildren.) By the following
year, however, it became apparent that Israel, with the acquiescence
of the new Clinton administration, interpreted this restriction so
liberally that the number of new Israeli colonists in the occupied
territories grew faster than ever. Indeed, this infusion of billions of
dollars’ worth of U.S.-baed loans were critical in enabling Israel to
embark on the dramatic expansion of Israeli selements in the
coming years.
When the Oslo Accords were signed in September 1993, the
Palestinians pressed to address the selements issue immediately.
e Clinton administration, however, insisted that su discussions
be delayed. By puing off su a fundamental issue as the
selements as a ‘final status issue,’ the United States gave the Israelis
the ability to continue to create facts on the ground whi would be
hard to reverse even as the peace process slowly moved forward.
Despite their illegality, the Clinton administration refused to insist
344
that Israel stop the expansion of Jewish selements and confiscation
of land that the Palestinians and others had assumed was destined to
be part of a Palestinian state. It is only because of these selements
that the boundaries for a future Palestinian state envisioned by
Clinton and Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak in the July 2000
summit at Camp David took its unviable geographic dimensions,
leading Palestinian leader Yasser Arafat to reject it. Even top Clinton
administration officials like Robert Malley anowledged that the
United States had not been tough enough on Israel for its selement
drive and this failure to do so was a major factor in the collapse of
the peace process.5
Clinton did not just tolerate the expansion of selements,
however, he actually encouraged it. Under pressure from peace and
human rights groups, Congress had aaed a provision to the 1992
loan-guarantee agreement requiring the president to deduct the costs
of additional selement activity from the $2 billion annual
installment of the loan. In October 1993, the Clinton administration
officially announced to Israel that there would be a $437 million
deduction in the next year’s loan guarantee due to selement
construction during the 1993 fiscal year. However, State Department
Middle East peace talks coordinator Dennis Ross immediately let the
Israeli government know that the United States would find a way to
restore the full funding. Within a month, Clinton authorized Israel to
draw an additional $500 million in U.S. military supplies from NATO
warehouses in Europe. A similar scenario unfolded the following
year. Aer deducting $311.8 million spent on selements from the
1995 loans, Clinton authorized $95.8 million for help in redeploying
troops from the Gaza Strip and $240 million to facilitate withdrawal
from West Bank cities. is was based on the rather dubious
assertion that it costs more to withdraw troops than to maintain
them in hostile urban areas. Clinton explicitly promised the Israelis
that aid would remain constant regardless of Israeli selement
policies. What resulted, then, was that the United States began in
345
effect subsidizing the selements since the Israelis knew that, for
every dollar that they contributed to maintaining and expanding
their presence in the occupied territories, the United States would
convert a loan guarantee into a grant.
Given the gross asymmetry in power between the Palestinians
under occupation and the Israeli occupiers—whose primary military,
economic and diplomatic supporter was also the ief mediator in
the negotiations—it was rather obvious that the U.S.-led peace
process would be unable to stop selement expansion. It appears,
then, that the Clinton administration’s insistence on sidelining the
United Nations was to enable Israel to do just that. It was during this
period that the Israelis began building a massive highway system of
29 roads totaling nearly 300 miles, designed to perpetuate effective
Israeli control of most of the West Bank. As part of what Clinton
referred to as ‘implementation funding’ of the 1998 Wye River
Agreement, in whi Israel agreed to withdraw from an additional
14 percent of the West Bank, the United States offered $1.2 billion in
supplementary foreign aid to the Israeli government. Most of the
funding was reserved for armaments but mu of the nonmilitary
funding was apparently earmarked to build these ‘bypass roads’ and
security enhancements for Israeli selers in the occupied territories.
Su direct subsidies for Israeli selements placed the United States
in violation of Article 7 of U.N. Security Council Resolution 465,
whi prohibits member states from assisting Israel in its
colonization drive. So, not only has the United States allowed Israel
to violate U.N. Security Council resolutions in continuing to
maintain and expand its illegal selements but Clinton also placed
the United States itself in violation of a U.N. Security Council
mandate. Israel also refused to abide by the call in Phase I of the
2003 Roadmap for Peace, whi required Israel to freeze “all
selement activity, including natural growth of selements,” and to
dismantle all selements erected since Mar 2001. Despite being the
346
key sponsor of the Roadmap, the United States refused to press Israel
to do so and blamed the Palestine Authority for its failure.
e Obama administration’s 2011 veto of an otherwise-unanimous
dra U.N. Security Council resolution opposing the expansion of the
illegal selements raised serious questions as to whether his public
criticism of Netanyahu’s construction of additional illegal
selements was sincere. Just weeks earlier, scores of traditionally
pro-Israel and decidedly mainstream leaders of the political
establishment—including solars, journalists, and former officials—
signed a leer to the president encouraging him to support the dra
resolution stating,
e time has come for a clear signal from the United States to the parties and to the
broader international community that the United States can and will approa the
conflict with the objectivity, consistency and respect for international law required if it
is to play a constructive role in the conflict’s resolution.
Noting how the resolution “would in no way deviate from our
strong commitment to Israel’s security,” they warned that “deploying
a veto would severely undermine U.S. credibility and interests,
placing us firmly outside of the international consensus, and further
diminishing our ability to mediate this conflict.”6 Similarly, following
the veto, Human Rights Wat noted how it “undermines
enforcement of international law,” adding that, “President Obama
wants to tell the Arab world in his speees that he opposes
selements, but he won’t let the Security Council tell Israel to stop
them in a legally binding way.”7
Similarly, in December 2012, the Obama administration bloed a
U.N. Security Council vote on a resolution condemning Israel’s
announcement of the planned construction of new selements. e
U.S. then bloed an effort for a joint statement by the Security
Council president. As a result, all fourteen other members of the
Security Council had to issue individual statements condemning the
illegal Israeli actions. Given that the 2004 ruling by the International
347
Court of Justice enjoined the United States and other signatories to
“ensure compliance by Israel with international humanitarian law,”
these actions have effectively put the United States in defiance of the
World Court, as well.
348
Attas against civilians
Another area in whi the United States has sought to undermine
international humanitarian law is in regard to Israeli aas on
civilians. For example, on December 27, 2008, following an increase
in Hamas roet aas into civilian areas in Israel, Israeli armed
forces launed a massive assault on the Gaza Strip. Six days into
the Israeli assault, Amnesty International USA sent a leer to
Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice noting its dismay “at the
lopsided response by the U.S. government to the recent violence and
its laadaisical efforts to ameliorate the humanitarian crisis in
Gaza.” e Nobel Peace Prize-winning organization went on to note,
“Without diminishing the responsibility of Hamas and other
Palestinian armed groups for indiscriminate and deliberate aas
on Israeli civilians, the U.S. government must not ignore Israel’s
disproportionate response and the longstanding policies whi have
brought the Gaza Strip to the brink of humanitarian disaster.”8
Congressional leaders of both parties, however, rushed to defend
the Bush administration’s position. As the international outcry over
the high number of civilian casualties in Israel’s assault on the Gaza
Strip grew during the second week of fighting, Congress formally
went on record supporting Bush’s position that the Israeli armed
forces bore no responsibility for the large and growing numbers of
civilian casualties. e bipartisan resolutions in the Democratic-
controlled Congress put forward an extreme reinterpretation of
international humanitarian law, apparently designed to exonerate
nations with superior firepower from any liability for inflicting
large-scale civilian casualties. e Senate resolution,9 primarily
wrien and sponsored by Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, passed
the Senate by unanimous consent on a voice vote. An even stronger
349
House resolution,10 sponsored by House Speaker Nancy Pelosi (D-
CA), passed the House by a lopsided 390–5 roll call vote (with 22
members voting present). Both resolutions placed the blame for the
death and destruction exclusively on the Palestinian side, and were
widely interpreted as rebukes to the international human rights
community and the United Nations, ea of whi had cited
evidence that both Hamas and the Israeli government were engaged
in war crimes. In subsequent months, there were a series of detailed
investigations of violations of the laws of war by both Israel and
Hamas, whi directly contradicted assertions made by Congress in
these resolutions. Among these were reports by Amnesty
International,11 Human Rights Wat,12 the National Lawyers
Guild,13 the Israeli group B`Tselem,14 and the United Nations
Human Rights Council (UNHRC).15
During the 2014 conflict whi began that July, close to 1,500
Palestinian civilians in Gaza were killed in the Israeli aas—more
than 500 of whom were ildren—and 18,000 homes were destroyed,
leaving over 100,000 people homeless. Despite this devastating
civilian toll, both Democrats and Republicans on Capitol Hill went
on record claiming that Israel’s actions were legitimate acts of self-
defense against military targets, dismissing reports by reputable
Israeli and international human rights groups saying otherwise. In
July and August, the two houses of Congress passed four resolutions
and forwarded a series of leers providing unqualified baing for
the massive Israeli air and ground assault. is eoed the Israeli
government’s justifications for the war and directly contradicting
findings by United Nations officials on the ground, as well as
investigations by both Israeli and international human rights groups.
What is significant is not just the enthusiastic support for a
military operation condemned by most of the international
community, but that this was done despite contradictory evidence.
While Hamas was guilty of terrorism in the deaths of the five
civilians killed by Hamas roets inside Israel, the resolutions and
350
leers seem to assume that the Israeli government bore absolutely
no responsibility for the deaths of nearly 1,500 Palestinian civilians
killed by Israeli ordnance inside the Gaza Strip. Indeed, members of
Congress repeatedly asserted that the Palestinian side was somehow
responsible for the deaths of its own people at the hands of Israeli
forces.
On July 25, Amnesty International reported that “Israeli forces
have carried out aas that have killed hundreds of civilians, using
precision weaponry su as drone-fired missiles, as well as
munitions su as artillery, whi cannot be precisely targeted, on
very densely populated residential areas.” Israeli forces “directly
aaed thousands of homes,” including high-rise apartment blos,
killing whole families. Observing that civilians in the Gaza Strip had
“nowhere to escape military operations by Israeli forces,” Amnesty
provided ample evidence that Israeli forces were engaging in
“indiscriminate aas on urban areas using artillery and bombs.”16
In a particularly serious brea of international law, Amnesty
further reported that “ambulances and medical personnel on their
way to collect the wounded appear to have been deliberately
targeted on several occasions, and hospitals have been destroyed by
shelling from tanks and missiles.” Similarly, an investigation by an
Israeli veterans group concluded that Israeli policies “led to massive
and unprecedented harm to the population and the civilian
infrastructure in the Gaza Strip. Policymakers could have predicted
these results prior to the operation and were surely aware of them
throughout,” and that heavy weapons fire on a “massive scale [was]
directed into neighborhoods and populated areas, while disregarding
the necessary safety ranges from the civilian population.”17 Human
Rights Wat cited evidence of Israel “blatantly violating the laws of
war designed to spare civilians,” including by aaing heavily
populated neighborhoods, bombing U.N.-run sools, and shooting
at fleeing civilians.18 e Israeli human rights organization B`Tselem
allenged its government’s claims that it had “no intention of
351
harming civilians,” noting that “aer more than three weeks of lethal
bombardments by Israel in the Gaza Strip, whi have killed
hundreds of civilians and wiped out dozens of families, this claim
has become meaningless.”19 U.N. officials also arged Israeli forces
with engaging in serious violations of international law following a
series of aas against U.N. sools where Palestinians were
seeking refuge.20
Despite this, the U.S. House of Representatives, with more than
100 co-sponsors from both parties, passed a resolution by unanimous
consent insisting that the Israeli aas were exclusively “focused on
terrorist targets,” and that Israel “goes to extraordinary lengths to
target only terrorist actors.”21 Senate majority leader Harry Reid
introduced a resolution, also pushed through by unanimous consent,
claiming that, “the Government of Israel has taken significant steps
to protect civilians in Gaza,” and that “Israel’s aas have focused
on terrorist targets.”22 ese were just two in a series of similar
bipartisan resolutions and public leers that went through Capitol
Hill as part of a concerted campaign to discredit human rights
groups, journalists, medical workers, U.N. officials, and any other
eyewitness who documented Israeli violations of international
humanitarian law.
During and following both the conflicts, Congressional resolutions
accused Hamas of “using innocent civilians as human shields.”
Subsequent human rights reports criticized Hamas for less-severe
violations of international humanitarian law, su as not taking all
necessary steps it should to prevent civilian casualties when it
positions fighters and armaments too close to concentrations of
civilians.23 ey found no evidence, however, of Hamas engaging in
the more serious war crime of using human shields, whi is defined
as deliberately holding civilians against their will as a deterrent from
enemy aas. Without su evidence, Congress decided to radically
broaden the definition of what constitutes human shields. A 2009
House resolution passed with only five dissenting votes called “on all
352
nations … to condemn Hamas for deliberately embedding its
fighters, leaders and weapons in private homes, sools, mosques,
hospitals and otherwise using Palestinian civilians as human
shields.”24 Su a sweeping redefinition asserts that if a Hamas leader
lives in his own private home in a residential neighborhood, aends
a nearby mosque and seeks admiance in a local hospital, Hamas is
thereby using “human shields” and Israel therefore is not responsible
for the civilian deaths from bombing those areas. is has dangerous
ramifications when one considers that the vast majority of leaders of
most governments and political parties live in private homes in
civilian neighborhoods, go to local houses of worship and e in to
hospitals when si or injured, along with ordinary civilians.
Furthermore, given that the armed wing of Hamas is a militia rather
than a standing army, virtually all of their fighters live in private
homes and go to neighborhood mosques and local hospitals as well.
In short, a large bipartisan majority in the U.S. Congress has
advanced a radical and dangerous reinterpretation of international
humanitarian law that would allow virtually any country with
superior air power or long-range artillery to get away with war
crimes.
It is also important to note that, even if Hamas had used human
shields in the narrower legal definition of the term, it still does not
absolve Israel from its obligation to avoid civilian casualties. e
Geneva Conventions make it clear that even if one side is shielding
itself behind civilians, su a violation “shall not release the Parties
to the conflict from their legal obligations with respect to the civilian
population and civilians.”25 Similarly, as Human Rights Wat noted,
even the presence of armed personnel and weapons near civilian
areas “does not release Israel from its obligations to take all feasible
precautions to minimize harm to civilians and civilian property
during military operations.”26
e bipartisan resolution not only appeared designed to
undermine international humanitarian law, it sought to resurrect a
353
fallacy that has long been rejected by Western legal thought. In an
effort to absolve Israel for the hundreds of civilian casualties it was
inflicting with U.S.-supplied weaponry, the House resolution called
on all nations “to lay blame both for the breaking of the calm and for
subsequent civilian casualties in Gaza precisely where blame
belongs, that is, on Hamas. [emphasis added]”27 Hamas can certainly
be faulted for its decision to not renew the 2008 ceasefire, along with
its own war crimes. at does not, however, absolve Israel of its
responsibility under international humanitarian law for the far
greater civilian deaths its armed forces had inflicted upon the
Palestinians in Gaza. Indeed, it has long been a principle of Western
jurisprudence that someone who is the proximate cause of a crime
cannot claim innocence simply because of the influence of another
party. e goal of this resolution, apparently, is to reverse this
longstanding legal principle.
354
U.S. opposition to a U.N. role in upholding
human rights
While the majority of Middle Eastern governments engage in serious
human rights violations, the fact that most of Israel’s human rights
abuses take place in non-self-governing territories outside of its
internationally-recognized borders places these violations of
international humanitarian law under special scrutiny of
international organizations, particularly the United Nations.
Nonetheless, the United States has made it a priority to limit the
U.N.’s ability to address international concerns regarding Israeli
violations of international humanitarian law. In the United Nations
General Assembly, the United States has repeatedly found itself as
the only country except for Israel itself (sometimes joined by
countries economically dependent on the United States, su as the
three countries whi emerged from the former U.S. Pacific Island
Trust Territories) to vote against resolutions condemning Israeli
human rights violations.28 Resolutions critical of Israel passed by the
U.N. Security Council have been more problematic for the United
States since su resolutions are legally binding and enforceable. As
a result, the United States has used nearly half of its eighty-four
vetoes cast since 1984 to blo resolutions critical of Israeli violations
of international humanitarian law. Recent examples have included
resolutions criticizing ongoing Israeli violations of the Fourth
Geneva Convention in the occupied West Bank (1997), the
establishment of an unarmed human rights observer force in the
occupied Palestinian territories (2001), deploring the killing of U.N.
employees and destruction of a World Food Program warehouse by
Israeli occupation forces (2002), calling on Israel to cease
construction of a security barrier inside occupied territories (2003),
355
deploring Israeli assassinations of alleged Palestinian militants
(2004), and opposition to Israel expanding its illegal selements on
the West Bank (2011).
Successive U.S. administrations supported a number of resolutions
requiring Israel to comply with provisions of the Fourth Geneva
Convention following the 1967 Israeli conquest of the Palestinian
West Bank, su as a call to withdraw from selements. However,
U.S. policy since the Clinton Administration has been that the
United Nations should no longer have any independent role in the
Israeli–Palestinian conflict, arguing that the U.N. resolutions have
been superseded by the Oslo Accords, signed by Israel and the
Palestine Liberation Organization in 1993. As a result, according to
this argument, the United Nations no longer has the power to
address su human rights issues as the fate of Palestinian refugees,
Israeli selements, and the status of Jerusalem.29 is aempt to
unilaterally negate the authority of the United Nations, however, is
not shared by the international community. No U.N. resolution can
be rescinded without a vote of the body in question. Neither the U.N.
Secretary General nor any other member of the Security Council
agrees with the U.S. assessment discounting the relevance of the
resolutions. Furthermore, no bilateral agreement between two
parties can supersede the authority of the United Nations Security
Council. is is especially true when one of the two parties (in this
case, the Palestinians) has made it clear that su resolutions are still
very relevant.
For example, in defending the Obama administration’s veto to the
2011 resolution against the expansion of Israeli selements,
Secretary of State Hillary Clinton—who, as a senator, was an
outspoken defender of Israel’s colonization efforts and a critic of the
United Nations30–insisted that while the Obama administration
supported the idea of a selement freeze, “We have consistently over
many years said that the United Nations Security Council – and
resolutions that would come before the Security Council – is not the
356
right vehicle to advance the goal.”31 Similarly, U.S. ambassador to the
United Nations Susan Rice expressed concern that, if they allowed
the resolution to pass, it would encourage parties seeking redress to
violations of international humanitarian law “to return to the
Security Council whenever they rea an impasse.”32
is is part of a broader effort by successive U.S. administrations
to allenge the U.N.’s jurisdiction regarding international
humanitarian law in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. e United
Nations has jurisdiction over the human rights situation in the West
Bank and the Gaza Strip because, as territories under belligerent
occupation, they fall under international humanitarian statutes su
as the Fourth Geneva Convention. As a result, beginning early in the
Clinton administration, the U.S. government began referring to these
occupied territories, as well as the Golan Heights, as ‘disputed
territories.’ Not only does the term ‘disputed territories’ imply that
both sides have an equally valid claim to territories conquered by
Israel in the June 1967 war, disputed territories—unlike occupied
territories—do not fall under the Fourth Geneva Convention.
e United States also has sought to undermine the authority of
the International Court of Justice in addressing international
humanitarian law. When the United States vetoed a 2004 U.N.
Security Council resolution against Israel building a separation
barrier deep inside the occupied West Bank, the General Assembly
voted to place the question before the World Court for an advisory
opinion. e court ruled in July that while the Israeli government
could build su a barrier along its internationally-recognized
border, the construction of a separation wall running through the
occupied Palestinian West Bank was illegal.33 e Bush
administration denounced the World Court’s 14–1 advisory ruling,34
arguing that the wall’s route should only be determined through the
U.S.-managed negotiations between the Palestinians and the Israeli
government.35 is is despite the fact that substantive negotiations
had been unilaterally suspended by the Israeli government since
357
early 2001 and, when negotiations have taken place, the United
States has sidelined consideration of international humanitarian law.
Support for the Bush administration’s opposition to the World Court
was bipartisan. e U.S. House of Representatives—by an
overwhelming bipartisan 361–45 majority—voted to deplore the
World Court’s decision and commended President Bush for “his
leadership in marshaling opposition to the misuse of the ICJ.”36 e
resolution also warned against the international community utilizing
international humanitarian law in regard to the occupied West Bank,
stating that nations would “risk a strongly negative impact on their
relationship with the people and Government of the United States
should they use the ICJ’s advisory judgment as an excuse to
interfere” with the U.S.-managed peace process.” 37
A particular target of the U.S. government has been the United
Nations Human Rights Council (UNHRC). e UNHRC found itself
the target of the Obama administration and Congress in 2014 when
it voted to establish a commission of inquiry looking into “all
violations of international humanitarian law and international
human rights law” in the hostilities in Gaza.38 e United States was
the only one of the UNHRC’s 47 members to vote against
establishing the commission. In response to its establishment, nearly
150 members of the House signed a leer to U.N. High
Commissioner for Human Rights, Navi Pillay, protesting the
UNHRC’s decision “to unjustly probe alleged war crimes” by a
nation simply “defending its citizens from roet aas and terror
tunnels.”39 Similarly, a Senate leer to U.N. Secretary General Ban Ki
Moon denounced the UNHRC for investigating possible Israeli war
crimes, insisting that Israel has “worked assiduously to minimize
civilian casualties.” e full ambers of both the House40 and
Senate41 also went on record condemning the U.N. investigation as
well, with Democratic leader Reid, on the Senate floor, declaring he
was “disgusted” that the UNHRC would adopt a resolution “accusing
Israel of human rights violations in the ongoing Gaza conflict,”
358
calling su accusations “anti-Israel.”42 e findings of the
Commission, aired by former New York Supreme Court judge
Mary McGowan Davis, were released in June 2015 and cited
extensive violations of international humanitarian law by both sides,
confirming findings by other international and Israeli human rights
groups.43
Part of the U.S. effort to undermine international humanitarian
law is through insisting that documentation of Israeli war crimes is
part of an effort to deny Israel’s right to self-defense and even its
right to exist. For example, in 2015, Secretary of State John Kerry
insisted that su UNHRC investigations were designed to
“arbitrarily and regularly delegitimize and isolate Israel.” Similarly, a
2009 Congressional resolution, passed by a wide bipartisan majority,
claimed that a UNHRC report citing evidence that both Israel and
Hamas violated international humanitarian law was somehow
designed “to delegitimize the democratic State of Israel and deny it
the right to defend its citizens and its existence,” warning that the
report “can be used to delegitimize other democracies and deny
them the same right.”
Despite the fact that the U.S. government has long accused the
UNHRC—despite recent publications of highly-critical reports of
human rights abuses by Syria, Sudan, and other countries—of an
anti-Israel bias, both the Obama administration and Congress have
insisted that the issue of possible war crimes by Israeli and Hamas
forces documented in the 2009 and 2014 investigations stay confined
to the UNHRC. e reason for this apparent contradiction is that if
the maer was taken to the U.N. Security Council, as recommended
by the investigations, it would place debate on violations of
international humanitarian law by a key U.S. ally before a body that,
unlike the UNHRC, has an enforcement meanism. It would also
allow far greater media exposure of Israeli war crimes, the bulk of
whi were implemented using U.S. weapons systems and
ordinance. And, since neither Israel nor Hamas are parties to the
359
International Criminal Court, Israelis and Palestinians suspected of
war crimes could not face justice at the ICC unless it was authorized
by the Security Council. e apparent intent, then, was that su
war criminals be allowed to escape prosecution.
360
Conclusion
In certain respects, the efforts by the U.S. government to undermine
the enforcement of international humanitarian law are not unique to
Israel. During the 1980s, for example, the Reagan administration and
Congress also tried to undermine the credibility of the U.N. and
human rights organizations when they provided evidence of war
crimes by U.S. allies in Central America. In recent decades,
successive administrations and Congresses of both parties have also
ignored, downplayed, rationalized, and covered up for violations of
international humanitarian law by allied governments in Saudi
Arabia, Indonesia, Turkey, Colombia, Morocco, and elsewhere. Yet,
while U.S. support for human rights and international law has
always been uneven, the vehemence with whi the U.S.
government has in recent years aempted to undermine
international humanitarian law, particularly in the case of Israel, has
never been greater.
ere is certainly an exceptionally high degree of political
polarization regarding Israel. For example, ideological and
geopolitical factors have played a role in the disproportionate
aention Israeli violations of international humanitarian law have
received in certain U.N. bodies, su as the UNHRC, compared with
some other countries. Similarly, ideological geopolitical factors,
along with domestic politics, have certainly played a role in U.S.
defense of Israeli violations of international humanitarian law.
However, the primary motivation for U.S. policy may not simply
be that of defending Israel, particularly since su violations of
international humanitarian law and killing of civilians by the Israeli
government arguably hurts Israel’s legitimate security needs in the
long run. Instead, U.S. policy may be based in part from a desire to
361
prevent the kind of precedents whi could serve as a deterrent
against violations of international humanitarian law by the United
States in its ‘global war on terrorism.’44 Insisting that large-scale
killings of civilians is legitimate as long as you are fighting
‘terrorists,’ that the World Court has no jurisdiction regarding
questions of international humanitarian law in occupied territories,
and reputable international jurists and human rights investigators
cannot be trusted provides greater latitude for the United States to
engage in su violations of international humanitarian law as well.
Similarly, mu of the U.S. opposition to the 2004 World Court
ruling on the Israeli separation barrier could be rooted in its
reiteration that member states of binding treaties, conventions and
arters su as the Fourth Geneva Convention and the U.N. Charter
are obliged to ensure that other member states live up to their legal
obligations under those agreements. Specifically, the court insisted
that every country that is party to the Fourth Geneva Convention
must “ensure compliance by Israel with international humanitarian
law as embodied in that Convention.”45 is principle of universality
may be what is particularly troubling for U.S. policy makers. Any
su strict and uniform application of international law would
interfere with U.S. policy objectives in the region, whi rely heavily
on the use of military force, including conquest and occupation,
subjecting the United States to principles of international legal
principles related to human rights. is is why any aempt to
enforce international humanitarian law must be met by slander,
condemnation and other aas against the credibility of the
international organizations, non-governmental organizations, or any
other body whi suggests that the United States and its allies are
not somehow exempt from su legal obligations.
By encouraging impunity, as it does when allowing Israel to
continue its illegal colonization of the occupied West Bank and
defending its aas on civilian targets in the Gaza Strip and
elsewhere, U.S. policy undermines the prospects for peace. As long
362
as there is no peace, there will likely be an increase in support for
extremist groups that thrive in situations of war, instability, and
deprivation.46 Support for impunity also helps excuse extremist
tactics of targeting civilians, as it can be justified by arguments that
if countries as powerful as Israel and the United States are not bound
by international legal norms, why should less powerful actors be
constrained? It is therefore in the long-term interest of Israel, the
United States, and every other nation to recognize and uphold
international humanitarian law, for there is ultimately no
contradiction between upholding international human rights norms
and defending national security—indeed, they should be seen as
mutually constitutive.
363
Notes
1 www.ohr.org/EN/NewsEvents/Pages/DisplayNews.aspx?NewsID=134 (accessed
September 4, 2016). Goldstone later disclosed that he could no longer categorically stand
by some conclusions of a five-page section of the 450-page report as a result of his
reviewing subsequent evidence, but he stood by the rest of the commission’s findings.
2 International Commiees of the Red Cross, Convention (IV) Relative to the Protection of
Civilian Persons in Time of War. Geneva, 12 August, 1949.
3 hp://fmep.org/resource/u-s-state-department-legal-advisor-on-israeli-selements/
(accessed September 4, 2016).
4 International Court of Justice, “Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the
Occupied Palestinian Territory,” July 9, 2004.
5 www.nybooks.com/articles/arives/2001/aug/09/camp-david-the-tragedy-of-errors/
(accessed September 4, 2016).
6 Steve Clemons, “Piering, Hills, Sullivan, Beinart, Dobbins, More Ask Obama
Administration to Support U.N. Resolution Condemning Illegal Israeli Selements,”
Washington Note, January 19, 2011 hp://washingtonnote.com/piering_hills/. Obama
also placed himself to the right of the liberal and mainstream Jewish community, the
majority of whom—according to public opinion polls—believe the United States should
take a harder line against illegal selements. Moderate pro-Israel groups like J Street
and Americans for Peace Now had encouraged President Obama not to veto the
resolution, but the president rejected their pleas, instead allying himself with su right-
wing groups as the American Israel Public Affairs Commiee (AIPAC).
7 Human Rights Wat, “Israel: U.S. Veto on Selements Undermines International Law,”
February 18, 2011.
8 Leer, Curt Goering, Senior Deputy Executive Director, Amnesty International, to
Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, January 2, 2009.
9 Senate Resolution 10, 111th Congress, 1st session, January 8, 2009.
364
10 House Resolution 34, 111th Congress, 1st session, January 9, 2009.
11 “Operation ‘Cast Lead:’ 22 Days of Death and Destruction,” Amnesty International, July
2, 2009.
12 See, for example, “Rain of Fire: Israel’s Unlawful Use of White Phosphorus in Gaza,”
Human Rights Wat, Mar 25, 2009.
13 “Onslaught: Israel’s Aa on Gaza and the Rule of Law,” National Lawyers Guild, 2009.
14 “B`Tselem’s Investigation of Fatalities in Operation Cast Lead,” B`Tselem, September 9,
2009.
15 United Nations Human Rights Council, “Report of the United Nations Fact-Finding
Mission on the Gaza Conflict,” A/HRC/12/48 September 25, 2009.
16 www.amnesty.org/en/latest/news/2014/07/israelgaza-conflict-questions-and-answers/
(accessed September 4, 2016).
17 Breaking the Silence, “is is How We Fought in Gaza: Soldiers’ Testimonies and
Photographs From Operation ‘Protective Edge’ (2014)” pp. 16, 20.
18 www.hrw.org/news/2014/08/04/gaza-israeli-soldiers-shoot-and-kill-fleeing-civilians
(accessed September 4, 2016).
19 www.btselem.org/press_release/20140801_a_dali_building_bombing (accessed
September 4, 2016).
20 www.unrwa.org/newsroom/official-statements/unrwa-strongly-condemns-israeli-
shelling-its-sool-gaza-serious (accessed September 4, 2016).
21 www.congress.gov/bill/113th-congress/house-concurrent-resolution/107/text (accessed
September 4, 2016).
22 www.congress.gov/bill/113th-congress/senate-resolution/526/text (accessed September 4,
2016).
23 As human rights investigators anowledged, however, the nature of urban warfare,
particularly in a territory as densely populated as the Gaza Strip, makes the proximity
of retreating fighters and their equipment to civilians unavoidable in many cases.
24 www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/BILLS-111hres34ih/pdf/BILLS-111hres34ih (accessed
September 4, 2016).
365
25 Protocol I, Geneva Conventions, Part IV, Section 1, Chapter 1, Article 51.
26 “Lebanon/Israel: Israel Must Allow Civilians Safe Passage,” Human Rights Wat, July
20, 2006. e argument by those defend the killing of civilians who are allegedly being
used as human shields is comparable to claiming that it would be legitimate for a SWAT
team, in order to kill some bank robbers shooting at them, to also kill bank employees
and customers who were being held hostage.
27 www.gpo.gov/fdsys/pkg/BILLS-111hres34ih/pdf/BILLS-111hres34ih (accessed
September 4, 2016).
28 Other resolutions, while still passing by comfortable margins, have been joined by a
sizable number of negative or abstaining votes—primarily from European nations—
because, even when the resolutions themselves were in most part valid, they were most
strongly supported by some of the world’s most tyrannical governments whi were
guilty of even worse human rights abuses. is is certainly not a unique phenomenon,
however. During the Cold War, repressive right-wing dictatorships would oen join the
U.S.-led efforts to condemn human rights violations by Communist governments and,
likewise, various le-wing dictatorships would join the Soviet Union in condemnation
of rightist regimes.
29 U.S. Permanent Representative to the United Nations Madeleine Albright, leer to the
United Nations General Assembly, August 8, 1994.
30 hp://fpif.org/hillary_clinton_on_international_law/ (accessed September 4, 2016).
31 www.voanews.com/content/negotiations-continue-at-un-on-palestinian-selements-
resolution-116429859/172722.html (accessed September 4, 2016).
32 hp://usun.state.gov/briefing/statements/2011/156816.htm (accessed September 4, 2016).
33 International Court of Justice, “Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the
Occupied Palestinian Territory,” July 9, 2004.
34 U.S. judge omas Buergenthal was the only dissenter, largely cited a tenical
argument, but joining the majority in anowledging the West Bank’s status as a
territory under foreign belligerent occupation.
35 Office of the Press Secretary, White House, “Press Gaggle by Sco McClellan,” July 9,
2004.
366
36 U.S. House of Representatives, 108th Congress, 2nd session, H. Res. 713.
37 Ibid. In the fieen years between the commencement of the U.S-led negotiations and the
resolution, the number of illegal Israeli selements on occupied Palestinian land had
more than doubled, raising questions as to whether there was any hope in stopping the
colonization drive under U.S. auspices.
38 www.reuters.com/article/2014/08/11/us-mideast-gaza-un-inquiry-
idUSKBN0GB1QR20140811 (accessed September 4, 2016).
39
hp://israel.house.gov/sites/israel.house.gov/files/wysiwyg_uploaded/UN%20HRC%20Le
er%20on%20Hamas%20Human%20Shields%20-%20FINAL%20SIGNATURES
(accessed September 4, 2016).
40 www.congress.gov/bill/113th-congress/house-concurrent-resolution/107/text (accessed
September 4, 2016).
41 hp://thomas.loc.gov/cgi-bin/query/z?c113:S.RES.526 (accessed September 4, 2016).
42 www.reid.senate.gov/press_releases/2014-30-07-reid-remarks-condemning-the-united-
nations-human-rights-council-resolution-against-israel#.U9pEabHML2o (accessed
September 4, 2016).
43 www.ohr.org/EN/HRBodies/HRC/CoIGazaConflict/Pages/ReportCoIGaza.aspx
(accessed September 4, 2016).
44 For example, Democratic Congressman Gene Green of Texas claimed that the ICJ ruling
“sets dangerous precedents in international law that hinder and impede United States
antiterrorism efforts.” (Congressional Record, 108th Congress, 2nd session, p. H5774.)
45 International Court of Justice, op. cit.
46 Sriram, Martin-Ortega, and Herman, “War, Conflict, and Human Rights” in The
International Studies Encyclopedia (2010).
367
Selected Bibliography
Akram, S., Dumper, M., Lynk, M., and Scobbie, I. eds. International
Law and the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: A Rights-Based
Approach to Middle East Peace. London: Routledge, 2011.
Amnesty International. Operation Cast Lead: 22 Days of Death and
Destruction, 2009. Available at:
www.amnesty.org/en/documents/MDE15/015/2009/en/ (accessed
September 4, 2016).
Aruri, N. Dishonest Broker: The Role of the United States in Palestine
and Israel. Boston: South End Press, 2003.
Bennis, P. Israeli-Palestinian Conflict: A Primer. New York: Olive
Bran Press, 2012.
Bisharat, G. “Israel’s invasion of Gaza in International Law,” in
Denver Journal of International Law and Policy vol. 38 (2009), 41
–114.
Bisharat, G. “Violence’s Law: Israel’s Campaign to Transform
International Legal Norms,” in Journal of Palestine Studies vol.
XLII, no. 3, (Spring 2013): 68–84.
Falk, R. Palestine: The Legitimacy of Hope. Charloesville, VA: Just
World Books, 2014.
Horowitz, A., Ratner, L., and Weiss P., eds. The Goldstone Report:
The Legacy of the Landmark Investigation of the Gaza Conflict.
Washington D.C.: e Nation Books, 2001.
Human Rights Wat. Why They Died: Civilian Casualties in
Lebanon during the 2006 War, 2003. Available at:
www.hrw.org/report/2007/09/05/why-they-died/civilian-
casualties-lebanon-during-2006-war (accessed September 4,
2016).
368
Human Rights Wat. “Israel/Palestine: Unlawful Israeli Airstrikes
Kill Civilians,” 2014. Available at:
www.hrw.org/news/2014/07/15/israel/palestine-unlawful-israeli-
airstrikes-kill-civilians (accessed September 4, 2016).
International Court of Justice. “Legal Consequences of the
Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory,”
2004. Available at: www.icj-cij.org/doet/files/131/1671
(accessed September 4, 2016).
United Nations Human Rights Council. “Report of the Independent
International Fact-finding Mission to Investigate the Implications
of the Israeli Selements on the Civil, Political, Economic, Social
and Cultural Rights of the Palestinian People roughout the
Occupied Palestinian Territory, Including East Jerusalem,” 2012.
Available at:
www.ohr.org/Documents/HRBodies/HRCouncil/RegularSessio
n/Session19/FFM/FFMSelements (accessed September 4,
2016).
Stephen Z. “Congress’s War on Lebanon,” Middle East Policy vol.
XVII, no. 4 (Winter 2010), 53–66.
Stephen Zunes, “Congress, the Gaza War, and International
Humanitarian Law,” Middle East Policy, Vol. XVII; No. 2 (Spring
2010), 68–81.
Stephen Zunes, “e United States Reaction to the International
Court of Justice Ruling on Israel’s Separation Barrier,” Middle
East Policy vol. XII, no. 1 (January 2005), 72–84.
369
Section IV
A transnational and international
framework: human rights beyond
borders
370
11
Rival Transnational Advocacy
Networks and Middle East Politics at
the U.N. Human Rights Council
Laura K. Landolt
371
Introduction
is apter examines conflict between and within rival human
rights transnational advocacy networks (TANs) over political and
civil rights in Middle East and North African (MENA) states at the
U.N. Human Rights Council (HRC). Since the HRC’s 2006 creation,
domestic and international human rights NGOs initiated and/or
deepened their U.N. advocacy as a result of political opportunities at
the HRC’s new meanism, Universal Periodic Review (UPR).1
Although most NGOs at the UPR/HRC are critical of government
practices, a surprising number appear sympathetic to governments—
even governments that openly abuse human rights.
e apter identifies competing sets of ‘critical’ and
‘government-sympathetic’ NGOs and their respective partners
(states, donors, U.N. officials), as rival TANs. Identifying and
analyzing rival networks at the HRC is important because it
illuminates the dynamics of political struggles over human rights,
helps explain the durability of repressive regimes, and suggests that
past advances in human rights protections may be reversible.
e conflict between rival human rights TANs is perhaps most
dramatic in relation to the reviews of MENA states. During
negotiations over the new HRC, throughout the institution-building
period and in every UPR focused on the region, MENA states were
conspicuous in their coordinated efforts to obstruct critical NGOs.
Failing to prevent critical NGOs from participating at the HRC/UPR,
MENA states collaborate with government-sympathetic NGOs in
order to undermine and impede them. is government-sympathetic
TAN presents a serious obstacle to domestic and international
pressure for human rights protections in MENA states, and is
working hard to deinstitutionalize human rights norms at the U.N.
372
e following pages first examine theoretical debate over NGO
and TAN advocacy at the international and domestic levels, and then
consider some of the causes, dynamics and effects of political conflict
within and between rival human rights TANs focused on MENA
states at the HRC.
373
eory: human rights and transnational
advocacy
Identification and analysis of rival TANs fills gaps in constructivist
resear. e constructivist “spiral model” drew valuable aention to
the dynamic in whi domestic human rights NGOs join TANs to
encourage intergovernmental organizations (IGOs) and sympathetic
states to pressure abusive governments to implement human rights
protections.2 Constructivists defined TANs as “INGOs and
foundations whi are loosely connected to officials working for
human rights IOs as well as for national governments,” all of whom
were “bound together by shared values, a common discourse, and
dense exanges of information and services.”3 Constructivists
legitimized aention to NGOs as actors facilitating an “international
‘norms cascade,’ as … human rights norms spread rapidly” beginning
in 1985, when state officials increasingly adopted human rights
language, ratified international treaties, and institutionalized
domestic protections.4
As the human rights ‘norms cascade’ dwindles or even reverses in
the MENA and elsewhere, however, international relations solars
(including contemporary constructivists5) identify shortcomings in
early constructivist analysis. First, constructivism suffered from
selection bias in that it typically considered the successful diffusion
of liberal norms. As a result, constructivists fostered durable
assumptions that norm cascades are inevitable, and that NGOs and
TANs are innately and homogenously progressive, motivated by
‘principled beliefs’ rather than material interests.6
Constructivists’ assertion that state ‘socialization’ into new norms
begins with officials’ adoption of human rights discourse also
underestimated the possibility of indefinite instrumental use of the
374
language.7 Indeed, authoritarian resistance to human rights
protections includes elite learning about how to manipulate human
rights discourse, while states may also instrumentally ratify human
rights treaties and superficially institutionalize sham human rights
protections.
Finally, constructivists rarely examined political struggles within
and between TANs (or between states and NGOs) at IGOs like the
U.N. Human Rights Council (HRC). is is because they emphasized
social factors (power of ideas) over material factors (power of states)
in explanations of norm diffusion, and because they conceptualized
IGOs mainly as unitary actors or as individual officials and not also
as sites of political struggle and/or as agents of states.8 As a result,
constructivists did not aend to authoritarian state resistance to
liberal norms in IGOs.
Lingering assumptions about the aracteristics and practices of
NGOs and TANs are also subject to revision. Recent resear on
conservative and rival TANs complicates the notion that TANs are
innately progressive, or that liberal norm diffusion is inevitable. is
apter loosely adopts Clifford Bob’s ‘rival network’ approa by
identifying a ‘government-sympathetic’ human rights TAN that
opposes the critical human rights TAN originally identified by
constructivists. Applying countermovement theory to the analysis of
transnational networks, Bob considers “competing networks” as
“ideologically opposed blocs rather than seeing one side as reactive
or ‘counter’.”9 By viewing networks as ideological competitors, he
gains purase on the competing interests that animate and prolong
these political struggles.
In addition, TAN members do not necessarily share values and
can behave opportunistically. Recent resear using organization
theory and/or historical institutionalism recasts analysis of NGOs as
actors that are “motivated by both principled beliefs as well as
instrumental concerns.”10 Indeed, NGOs compete for “resources,
375
visibility, prestige, and the claiming of success” as well as aention
to particular NGO issues.11
Because NGOs are both principled and instrumental actors, TANs
also exhibit internal conflict. For William DeMars, a network exists
where NGOs “share any common partners” including “parts of
governments, U.N. agencies, regional intergovernmental
organizations, foundations, solars, religious communities,
professional associations, journalists, and even warlords and private
corporations.”12 DeMars and Dijkzeul encourage solars to “follow
the partners” to detect internal political conflict, contending that
NGO networks, encompassing partners with potentially dissonant
agendas, both institutionalize and structure international
cooperation and conflict.13
Cooperation and conflict within the critical human rights TAN
occurs not just between domestic and international, Northern and
Southern NGOs, but also between NGOs and states.14 At the
HRC/UPR, critical I/NGOs have strong connections with liberal
states through whi they share information and material resources
(from states to NGOs). Still, critical NGOs confront the divided
loyalties of liberal states, whi usually refuse to take a critical stand
on an abusive state when that state is geostrategically important
(discussed below).
Nevertheless, over the past several decades critical NGOs utilized
conflicts between liberal and authoritarian states to strengthen U.N.
human rights meanisms, expand NGO participation and bring
aention to state abuses at the old Commission on Human Rights
(CHR).15 When the Human Rights Council (HRC) replaced the CHR
in 2006, critical NGOs and liberal states also collaborated to build a
new meanism, the Universal Periodic Review (UPR), whi
reviews all U.N. members’ human rights practices every 4.5 years.
During the UPR institution-building period, critical NGOs and
liberal states expanded and deepened NGO participation against
coordinated opposition by MENA and other authoritarian states. As
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a result, NGOs gained the opportunity to submit one of three
foundation documents in ea state’s review.
While regular reviews of all U.N. members and greater NGO
space at the HRC/UPR encouraged increased participation by critical
domestic and international NGOs, it also aracted government-
sympathetic NGOs (GSNGOs).16 According to the Cairo Institute for
Human Rights Studies (CIHRS), domestic MENA GSNGOs increased
in numbers in 2009 and subsequently expanded their presence at the
HRC/UPR.17 If the CIHRS timeline is correct, authoritarian state
experiences with critical NGOs in the UPR’s first year (2008) may
have encouraged them to foster and collaborate more frequently
with GSNGOs—thus strengthening a nascent government-
sympathetic network within and beyond the MENA.
Elsewhere I argue that Egypt’s 2010 UPR contributed to the Tahrir
Uprising.18 Whether this is true or not, authoritarian MENA states
take the UPR very seriously. One diplomat observed that “[t]en
years ago the Commission on Human Rights was not so developed
that states saw it as a threat. Now [at the HRC/UPR] states see that
civil society can have an impact and are being [listened to] by other
states.”19
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Critical and government-sympathetic NGOs
Although Government Organized Nongovernmental Organizations
(GONGOs) are nothing new, systematic aention to them appears
infrequently in comparative resear, and even less so in
international relations. Interview respondents who discussed
GONGOs invariably emphasized the shortcomings of that term and
fluidity of the category. e common understanding is that an NGO
sympathetic to state abuses may not actually be ‘government-
organized’. As an OHCHR official aptly noted, GONGOs are a
“legitimate expression of certain feelings … Even GONGOs exist in
Western countries—you can find NGO leaders who have a clear
political perspective supporting one side or a party. You can’t avoid
this phenomenon.”20
e term ‘government-sympathetic NGOs’ (GSNGOs), respects
this ambiguity and emphasizes their ideas and practices, rather than
origins. is term was developed by Landolt and Woo, who identify
five types of NGO statements about states at the UPR: 1)
systematically critical, 2) critical, 3) reformist, 4) sympathetic, and 5)
laudatory.21 ‘Reformist’ NGOs occupy a grey area separating critical
from sympathetic NGOs. Reformists are ‘insiders’ who work with
government, but also criticize some government abuses. One
respondent described that grey area as constantly shiing according
to political circumstance, requiring reformists to ask themselves:
“When are you corrupted, and when are you using your influence
[on government] for positive ange?”22
In this apter, ‘GSNGOs’ refers to NGOs taking sympathetic and
laudatory positions toward states. GSNGOs may only lightly critique
and more oen praise their home government, whereas critical
NGOs critique their home government as mu as they criticize
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other states.23 By this definition, liberal states also create and aract
GSNGOs. Freedom House, whi respondents identified as a US
GSNGO because it does not criticize the US government, is different
in degree but not in kind from U.N. Wat. Critical NGO
respondents identify U.N. Wat as an Israeli GSNGO for its refusal
to report Israeli abuses, but also because it seeks to discredit critical
NGO information about Israeli abuses and related HRC action.
All NGOs, including human rights NGOs, contain a latent or
overt political program—whether critical of, or sympathetic to,
government. DeMars views an NGO as both an actor and a site of
“dynamic cooperation and conflict among its partners” arguing that
“NGOs are at least as mu partner-driven as principle-driven.”24
Most states aract sympathetic NGOs at the HRC/UPR, but this
apter focuses narrowly on the conflict between and within rival
TANs over the human rights practices of MENA states. Although
Freedom House sponsored the participation of government-
sympathetic Egyptian NGOs at Egypt’s 2010 UPR, liberal state
GSNGOs may also join the critical TAN on reviews of MENA
states.25 is observation underscores the dynamic and historically-
contingent nature of TANs, but does not disprove the existence of
rival network conflict examined here. Critical NGOs far outnumber
GSNGOs in the critical TAN focused on the MENA, while there are
no critical NGOs in the government-sympathetic TAN.
If an NGO is constituted by the ‘latent agendas’ of network
partners, then critical NGOs and GSNGOs in their respective TANs
are influenced by partner states, NGOs, IGOs, donors, business, and
other interests.26 Referring to liberal state funding of critical NGOs
and the question of autonomy, one diplomat asked, “If you’re a
purist about it, how many NGOs working in the Human Rights
Council don’t receive any money from governments? … Some have a
large or small donor base … an independent course [is] easier when
you have a larger donor base”, meaning that an NGO can play
donors off against ea other and/or avoid single donor pressure by
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diversifying funding sources.27 While relative autonomy enhances
critical NGOs’ influence on states, it is as yet unclear how mu
influence over states GSNGOs might enjoy.
Both networks identify human rights as a valuable goal—but ea
gives it a different priority. e most striking difference between
them is a ‘rights versus security’28 calculus: the government-
sympathetic network conceptualizes national security as
oppositional to, and prioritizes it over, human rights; while the
critical network views human rights as essential to human security
and compatible with national security—although the US and other
liberal states have openly equivocated on the prioritization of human
rights since 2001. e government-sympathetic TAN can be viewed
as ‘framejaing’ critical NGOs’ message that human rights are
inviolable, and instead substituting a message that domestic security,
stability, sovereignty and/or other goals are (at least temporarily)
more important than human rights.29
e government-sympathetic TAN works very hard to
institutionalize this alternative ideological framework at the
HRC/UPR. As a result, the critical network’s past success at drawing
international aention to government human rights abuses and
institutionalizing human rights protections at the HRC is not
irreversible. One critical INGO respondent insisted that, aside from
advocating on specific human rights issues at the U.N., “we’re also
here to protect normative frameworks and meanisms … and
strengthen them [because] … the normative framework of human
rights is under constant aa. ere’s no guarantee that it will be
the same in ten years.”30
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NGOs in authoritarian MENA states
Authoritarian MENA states and GSNGOs externalize domestic
human rights politics at the HRC. At the domestic level a few states
refuse to allow independent NGOs to operate (e.g. Syria, Saudi
Arabia), and most practice heavy-handed repression su as banning
or closing down critical NGOs; diverting their resources to GSNGOs;
arging critical activists as spies; and imprisoning, torturing and/or
disappearing activists. To reduce external criticism, states also
practice more ‘subtle’ methods against critical NGOs.
Subtle repression includes threatening, imprisoning and/or
physically harming individual critical activists, since a single
example can intimidate domestic NGOs and external allies, and the
regime can argue that ill-treatment is not systematic.31 Subtle
methods also include defaming NGO activists as ‘foreign agents’ in
the media. Bob describes su action as “unbuilding” and
“deauthenticating” the rival network by intimidating “groups from
joining, accusing them of ‘treason!’ for taking comfort or mere ideas
from foreigners.”32 Authoritarian states also interfere in critical NGO
operations by “penetrating existing NGOs and modifying their
objectives and/or recruiting … politically influential elements of the
activist community.”33
Furthermore, states obstruct domestic NGO meetings and restrict
representatives’ ability to travel to external NGO or IGO events.
When they do leave the country, critical MENA human rights
activists:
… say that reprisals [for external work] are [now] more subtle … [Activists returning
from the HRC] might later be called in for interrogation or criminal arges—obscure,
unrelated [arges] months later—[even] basic administrative [questions for] … no good
reason …, and you can’t link it to [their] contact with the U.N… . Mostly there’s a
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massive effect of knowing what might happen. e threat [of reprisals at home] is only
a threat, but it has a illing effect. It’s preemptive repression.34
Institutional isomorphism across the MENA indicates that
authoritarian states share repressive practices.35 NGO laws duplicate
restrictive registration, reporting and foreign funding regulations.36
Rather than denying critical NGOs legal status, governments also
delay or fail to rule on NGO applications, leaving critical NGOs
vulnerable to government threats.
As critical NGOs emerged and became more politically prominent
in MENA states in the 1980s, and as external donors simultaneously
diverted development funding from states toward some of those
NGOs, state officials either established or fostered GSNGOs.
According to CIHRS, GSNGOs sometimes focus on “gaining
financial profits from international [donors] by claiming to be of
influence on the governments’ agenda” and, in doing so, divert
external donor funds and domestic human resources (paid and
voluntary) away from critical NGO competitors.37
Domestic GSNGOs undermine critical counterparts by diluting
domestic human rights discourse; presenting authoritarian states as
sincerely working to improve human rights practices (in their
information about and ‘tolerance’ by the state); intimidating critical
NGO representatives at public meetings; and providing a friendly
partner to satisfy the UPR requirement that states consult with
NGOs before preparing the national report.38 At the same time,
authoritarian states and GSNGOs collaborate to externalize these
practices at the U.N.39
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Government-sympathetic TAN practices
If the government-sympathetic network is gaining strength in the
MENA, Egypt is its fulcrum. Egypt distinguishes itself by domestic
innovations in NGO repression, but also by external efforts to
‘export repression’.40 At the CHR Egypt built a leadership position in
the African Group and the OIC, and during the HRC institution-
building process led, along with Algeria (African Group), Saudi
Arabia (Asian Group) and Pakistan (OIC), efforts by MENA and
other authoritarian states to limit NGO participation.41
Because they failed to blo NGO participation in the HRC,
MENA authoritarian states utilize formal and informal actions to
obstruct critical NGO participation. Indeed, the Arab Group may be
the “only [informal U.N. regional] group that [regularly] aas
NGOs at the HRC as a unit.”42 Since the UPR’s inception, Egypt and
Algeria lead MENA state efforts to disrupt critical NGO statements
by calling repeated points of order against them.43 To weaken the
critical TAN, authoritarian states also seek to replace critical officials
with government sympathizers in the OHCHR and treaty body
offices.
Even more dramatically, authoritarian states collaborate on the
ECOSOC Commiee on Non-Governmental Organizations to delay,
prevent and even suspend consultative status (and independent
access to U.N. proceedings) for critical NGOs, while hastening
approval for GSNGOs.44 Bob describes these activities as “activating
and deactivating institutions”—a process by whi networks “tilt the
institution’s rules in their favor–and against their enemies. If
possible, they maneuver to exclude or expel the rival [and] … pa …
[institutions] with stalwarts or sympathizers.”45
383
e most notorious instance of NGO Commiee repression of
critical MENA NGOs occurred when Algeria engineered the
suspension of consultative status for the Arab Commission for
Human Rights (ACHR) in 2009, and then obstructed an associated
Swiss NGO focused on Arab states, AlKarama, from acquiring the
same.46
Mr. Raid Mesli, Alkarama’s Director of the Legal Department, had … been appointed
as the [ACHR] representative in Geneva and was speaking on its behalf to the [HRC],
in a statement supported by Alkarama. Algeria argued that Mr. Mesli had … ‘been
convicted by an Algerian court on criminal arges of association with a terrorist
organisation’. Clearly, these accusations … against Mr. Mesli aer he was recognised as
a political refugee in Switzerland are nothing but a result of his work as a human rights
lawyer in Algeria, documenting human rights violations and defending political
prisoners. In addition, in 2013, Algeria, present at the [NGO] Commiee’[s] session as
an observer, made a very hostile declaration calling [on] the Commiee not to grant
Alkarama … consultative status as it would ‘allow terrorists to operate within the
U.N.’.47
Increasing numbers of GSNGOs at the UPR/HRC obstruct critical
NGO participation by taking up limited speaking time, and
presenting laudatory accounts of authoritarian states’ human rights
records.48 One respondent emphasized the ways that GSNGOs
misdirect aention to domestic human rights abuses:
[GONGOs] make the whole landscape … blurry. ere are a lot of them. at’s the
objective—states establish them to drown everyone. You’re one among many GONGOs
… Arab states’ real motive is to keep a good image. ey’re willing to put a lot of money
in these GONGOs … [S]ome GONGOs [appeared at a presession briefing by NGOs for
states on Iraq’s UPR.] … I want[ed] people to talk about sensitive issues [but w]hen
talking about Iraq—one of the [most repressive] countries in the region—[some
GONGOs brought up] issues that don’t maer so mu … [For example,] one
[GO]NGO brought up having an educational program in prisons. Are people not
tortured? [Torture] is more important [than la of education] … [On the issue of]
torture or no torture, [states say] the “real problem is overcrowding.” ey try to reshi
the focus on[to] issues that are more easily solved and not politically too sensitive. ey
can ask for money to build a new prison. Do they want to stop torture? No. A year ago
Mauritania was reviewed by the Commission against Torture—GONGOs were sent by
government. During the NGO briefings with experts there was a man from an ‘NGO’
called something like the ‘No Torture Network’. He said during the briefing that there
was ‘no torture in Mauritania’.49
384
A critical INGO respondent mentions increased competition with
GONGOs for speaking time and even being:
aaed by a GONGO. We had [lined up] since 7:30[am] to get on the speakers’ list.
When the gate opened we were … running to the U.N. building … like we were in a
race. An Iranian GONGO woman … was running—I was jostling for position with [her]
and … g[o]t in front of her on the escalators. A … GONGO man grabbed me by the arm
to pull me aside. [Critical NGOs activists] moved to my defense.50
HRC/UPR side events are also a place where NGOs can present
information to state officials and other NGOs, but can be especially
dangerous to critical domestic NGOs. One respondent recounted that
at critical NGO side events:
You see more permanent mission [state] representatives [who are] not happy. e
permanent missions … [take] photos of everyone in the room. Not just panelists but the
public. is is worrying for people going ba to the Arab world … e U.N. doesn’t do
anything. You can’t call security and say ‘No photos!’ States … always try to push the
other way.51
Authoritarian MENA states and associated GSNGOs are also known
for approaing and threatening critical NGOs in the HRC itself.52
One respondent noted that there were:
Several cases of NGO activists approaed in the Human Rights Council by hostile
states. Incredible! Who would believe that a state could threaten an NGO on the floor of
the U.N.? But it happens … the room can [also] be filled with GONGOs to intimidate
NGOs … with the possibility of reprisals.53
e Special Rapporteur on the rights to freedom of peaceful
assembly and of association has documented reprisals against critical
domestic NGOs working at the HRC su as “threats from State
officials for delivering statements at the Council (e.g. Bahrain, … and
Yemen); acts of torture and ill-treatment (e.g. Israel and United Arab
Emirates); … acts of surveillance (e.g. … United Arab Emirates); and
confiscation of passport/travel bans (e.g. … Israel, Saudi Arabia,
[and] United Arab Emirates).”54 Bahraini activists “have had their
names and pictures taken by State representatives and reproduced in
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local newspapers and social media, and been accused of tarnishing
the image of their respective countries.”55 Finally, Saudi activists who
reported “human rights violations [to the U.N.] have been labelled as
‘terrorists’ or acting against Islam.”56
386
From reformism to government sympathy
Aention to conflict within TANs, NGOs and even individual
activists highlights the relative fluidity and contingency of TAN
membership, particularly among reformists. At Egypt’s 2014 UPR,
domestic political polarization and aversion to the Muslim
Brotherhood (MB) encouraged some reformists to sympathize with
the Sisi government. is position is most poignantly illustrated by
Hafez Abu Seada, Chairman of the Egyptian Organization for
Human Rights (EOHR), one of the oldest Egyptian human rights
NGOs. Now calling the EOHR a ‘GONGO’, some NGO respondents
question its membership in the critical network. According to one
respondent:
e EOHR was a leading organization in Egypt. ey [now] come to the Council—not
complaining about—but the reverse—defending government! … EOHR … say[s]: ‘What
INGOs and the media are saying [about the Sisi government’s human rights abuses
aer Morsi’s overthrow] is fabricated.’ is problem is most worrying—[because under
the current cradown in Egypt] the number of independent NGOs is shrinking—their
financial resources are shrinking … But the regime is always legitimating the process
with some NGOs … [it] finds some members of the human rights movement [to use] as
tools.57
By contrast, a number of critical Egyptian NGOs argued that the
deadline issued by the Sisi regime for NGO registration under
repressive Law 84/2002, five days aer Egypt’s 2014 UPR, signaled
that critical NGOs would suffer “reprisal or possible persecution” if
they aended the review.58 As a result, these critical NGOs
announced that they would not aend.
At an EOHR-organized side event aended by the author, Abu
Seada appeared on a panel that included an NGO representing
Egyptian police. While a person photographed audience members
(some of whom also photographed the photographer), the panel
387
detailed MB violence. Its primary talking point was an impassioned
plea to ‘go easy’ on judging the Sisi government’s human rights
practices because Egypt’s very existence required a violent response
to MB ‘terrorists’, and that Egypt was undertaking this task on
behalf of the world.
Abu Seada appeared vaguely uncomfortable or impatient with
more extreme GSNGO appeals. Meanwhile, panelist Mona Zulficar,
Egyptian feminist lawyer and human rights activist, former Vice
Chair of the HRC’s Advisory Commiee and current National
Council for Human Rights (NCHR)59 Board member (along with
Abu Seada), insisted that Egypt’s Minister of Social Solidarity
(MoSS) had assured her that the impending deadline for NGO
registration represented “no threat against NGOs.”
e next day I met with Abu Seada60 at a U.N. cafeteria. During
our conversation Zulficar and representatives of at least one other
reformist NGO and at least one government official stopped by or sat
at our table. Because of Egypt’s post-Morsi political polarization,
Abu Seada’s past bridging practice, as reformist ‘insider’ working
with both a repressive regime and critical NGO ‘outsiders’, has now
streted to the limit. Indeed, Abu Seada is positioned precisely
where NGOs diverge on the human rights/security dimension, while
liberal and authoritarian states oen converge. Liberal states,
particularly the U.S., are as unwilling as Abu Seada and other
secular reformist NGO activists to prioritize human rights over
regime security if the alternative is an MB (rather than secular)
dictatorship.
Domestic polarization has opened a yawning gap between
reformist and critical human rights NGOs, and at Egypt’s 2014 UPR
Abu Seada collaborated with GSNGOs. Abu Seada’s words
encapsulate this political position. Referring to the critical NGOs
who did not aend Egypt’s UPR for fear of government reprisals,
Abu Seada noted that there:
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… is a allenge now facing NGOs in Egypt … I understand their fear. If they came [to
the UPR], they could face a critical situation in Egypt. ey have the right to feel this
fear [because of the deadline to register by] 10 November … Mona and me [sic] and
other NCHR groups are working hard on that issue and talked with the MoSS … to stop
proceedings against NGOs until the new law is passed … Government does not agree
with us and has its own … strategy to deal with NGOs … [is] means that all
organizations must register under Law 84 …, but I don’t know if [government] will …
[make] arrests or only pressure NGOs to register.61
During our conversation he emphasized, as do all GSNGOs, that
critical NGO language is “too harsh … I’m not willing to adopt the
spee of an opposition group … In my view NGOs … have to
pressure the government to ange, not use … revolutionary
language. We’re reformist, not revolutionary … government has to
fight against terrorism, and we have to fight for human rights.”62 I
replied,
is is the language used by the Egyptian government since the 1980s—that it can’t
conform to human rights standards because of its fight against terrorism. When you use
this language, you don’t leave yourself mu space for maneuver as a human rights
activist, do you?
Abu Seada responded:
We didn’t believe there was a terrorist war [under Mubarak], but now we believe there
is a terrorism [sic] war … I don’t agree with the government … using [the] discourse of
war to lose our freedom or … our rights … I have to work hard to ange … government
[policies]. I have no hope. Wait, I don’t mean I have no hope, but I don’t expect
government to agree. I’m optimistic. ere are voices inside government against NGOs,
opposition parties—[who] see journalists as enemies of the state … Every day the
government aas me and human rights groups … I want to construct a strategy that
isn’t a zero [sum] game.63
When I asked Abu Seada about accusations that the EOHR was now
a GONGO, he responded:
[T]he situation in Egypt is totally different aer 3 June [Morsi’s overthrow] … we have
a big clash about what happened … e [Sisi] government … commied to follow
international recommendations. At the same time I have a very strong position against
the [MB] and all extremists—they are more dangerous than even the Mubarak regime—
389
and I say this aer I was in prison for six months [under Mubarak] and was kied out
of the country for one year.64
Minutes aer Egypt’s UPR Working Group session, Sisi’s
government signaled its position on future autonomy for domestic
NGOs by appointing Fayza Abul Naga as national security advisor.
Abul Naga gained notoriety for opposition to external funding for
critical and reformist NGOs as Minister of International Cooperation
under Mubarak and the SCAF. Her 2012 prosecution of U.S.
democracy-promotion and human rights GSNGO65 personnel—both
U.S. and Egyptian, shoed the international diplomatic community
and precipitated a crisis in Egypt-U.S. relations.66 It also augured
poorly for critical Egyptian NGOs, who cannot hope to employ U.S.
pressure (or that of any other state) on Egypt to li domestic NGO
repression, if the U.S. cannot even dissuade Egypt from aaing
U.S. GSNGOs.
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Notable internal TAN dynamics
Aention to conflict within rival TANs illuminates the fact that
network partners may work together opportunistically—sometimes
prioritizing values differently depending on time, context and issue
area. For example, liberal states’ participation in the critical TAN
does not mean that they are free of human rights abuses or
consistent in their loyalty to the network. When liberal states are not
threatened by highlighting the human rights abuses of a particular
state, they are energetic members of the critical TAN.67 As
mentioned above, liberal states allied with critical human rights
NGOs to expand NGO participation in the CHR and HRC. When
liberal states are critically examined by NGOs or U.N. human rights
bodies, however, they protect themselves. One respondent observed
that the “most ‘democratic’ governments aren’t always enamored of
what NGOs do. Sometimes those [states] are screaming the loudest
[against NGO information critical of themselves] … When it comes
to [domestic] policy, they’re not perfect.”68
Liberal state action on human rights abuses in allied MENA states
also has clear limits. According to one INGO respondent, the:
UPR’s main purpose is to make blatant abuses visible … [T]his led to an increase in risks
for NGOs from reporting countries—reprisals—and to the point where governments are
not afraid to be seen as indulging in reprisals against NGOs … Bahrain is engaged in
really cruel reprisals against the Shi`ite majority. e royal family is Sunni. It’s related
to Saudi Arabia—and we have information, file reports, go to the U.N., lobby
governments. [A f]ew countries … don’t say anything [in response to our efforts to get
them to address reprisals]. e U.S., UK are bad about this because of oil. [Because]
Saudi Arabia … [has] assets that no one wants to talk about.69
Similarly, critical activists were dismayed by the U.S. and EU refusal
to:
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confront Egypt concerning [human rights] violations [during Egypt’s transition] within
any U.N. rights meanisms … As a result of this la of political will, large scale rights
violations against protestors and the pro-democracy movement in Egypt has not been
dealt with by any U.N. political body, including the HRC.70
It is thus not surprising that Sisi and other regional dictators have
been emboldened.
Liberal states may cooperate with authoritarian states not just
because of geostrategic considerations, but because of their own
domestic political conflicts. For example, one respondent addressed
Algeria’s strenuous efforts to silence AlKarama (discussed above),
arguing that the U.S. was complicit in Algeria’s actions because it
placed the name of AlKarama’s president on the U.S. Treasury list of
terrorists in response to encouragement by “Arab states close to the
U.S. government.”71 According to this respondent, the U.S. was
motivated by displeasure at AlKarama’s work with (critical domestic
NGO) CODEPINK on publicizing information about U.S. drone
strikes in Yemen.
On the issue of external pressure on states for human rights
compliance, authoritarian states may potentially be more cohesive in
their resistance than liberal ones are in its application. A 2004
study72 of the CHR concluded that “non-democratic regimes voted
as a unified bloc against most resolutions critical of human rights
violations,” while democracies were mu less unified in voting for
su resolutions. If critical TAN influence on authoritarian MENA
states is weakened by liberal states’ unwillingness to apply pressure
for human rights compliance, however, the government-sympathetic
TAN is also weakened by conflicts between MENA states and
GSNGOs’ la of legitimacy.
One respondent notes that “there are conflicts in the region. Some
countries don’t dare [directly initiate] conflict with a neighbor—it’s
like a Cold War—they bring the conflict outside [to the international
level].”73 For example, Qatar and the UAE created GSNGOs to divert
aention from their own domestic human rights abuses and to
392
highlight those of the other state. is respondent says that “both are
based in Geneva … Everyone knows [that they are GONGOs],
including the U.N. system … Because they’re not credible
organizations.”74
Recognizing their la of credibility, and the relative power of
critical NGOs, GSNGOs and MENA authoritarian states oen seek
legitimacy through public association with critical NGOs. One
respondent mentions planning a 2014 HRC side event on Palestine,
whi GSNGOs sought to join and authoritarian states sought to
sponsor, because Palestinian rights “is a noble cause—it’s a way to
tou more of the public, [a way to] clean [themselves], so that they
can clean the image of their organizations.”75 By contrast critical
NGOs, whose continued existence depends on protecting and
maintaining organizational and network legitimacy, assiduously
avoid public association with GSNGOs.
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Conclusion
Investigating conflict within and between rival TANs can offer
valuable insights into human rights politics at the HRC/UPR. In the
MENA and beyond, human rights norms are not diffusing to
authoritarian states because officials are becoming ‘socialized’ into,
and ‘learn’, these norms—as optimistically predicted by early
constructivists. One means by whi authoritarian states thwart
internal and external pressure for human rights compliance is by
strengthening and expanding a nascent government-sympathetic
TAN. is apter identifies that government-sympathetic TAN, and
explores some of the ways in whi authoritarian MENA states,
GSNGOs, some U.N. officials and other members of that network
actively resist human rights protections and advance an alternative
set of ideas emphasizing state security and sovereignty at the HRC.
Political struggle within and between critical and government-
sympathetic TANs should figure prominently in explanations of
HRC/UPR (in)action on human rights abuses in the MENA and the
durability of authoritarian regimes in the region. Government-
sympathetic TAN efforts, combined with liberal state inconstancy,
threaten past advances in human rights protections aieved and
long protected by the critical TAN. Solars and activists should
aend carefully to the unfolding conflict between rival TANs at the
HRC because of its direct impact on human rights in the MENA.
394
Notes
1 is resear draws from Fall 2014 open-ended exploratory interviews with 30 NGO and
state representatives in Geneva, and information gathered at side events and Working
Group sessions related to the UPRs of Egypt and Iraq. e open-ended interview
questions were: Can you think ‘out loud’ about NGO space and/or GONGOs at the
HRC/UPR? e author interviewed one or more representatives of: the African
Assembly for the Defenses of Human Rights (RADDHO); AlKarama; Amnesty
International; Asian Forum for Human Rights and Development (FORUM-ASIA);
BADIL Resource Center for Palestinian Residency & Refugee Rights; Cairo Institute for
Human Rights Studies; CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation; Egyptian
Organization for Human Rights; Franciscans International; Friedri Ebert Stiung;
Frontline Defenders; Geneva for Human Rights; Geneva International Centre for Justice;
Human Rights Wat; International Commission of Jurists; International Federation for
Human Rights (FIDH); International Service for Human Rights; Permanent Missions of
the Netherlands, Sweden and Switzerland; Reporters without Borders; UPR Bran,
Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights; UPR Info; and Women’s
International League for Peace and Freedom.
2 omas Risse and Kathryn Sikkink, “e Socialization of International Human Rights
Norms into Domestic Practices,” in The Power of Human Rights, eds, omas Risse,
Stephen C. Ropp and Kathryn Sikkink (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999),
18.
3 Risse and Sikkink, “Socialization,” 21, 18.
4 Risse and Sikkink, “Socialization,” 20.
5 Constructivists are currently grappling with and addressing many of these
shortcomings. See omas Risse, Stephen C. Ropp and Kathryn Sikkink, eds. The
Persistent Power of Human Rights (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013).
6 Laura K. Landolt, “(Mis)constructing the ird World? Constructivist Analysis of Norm
Diffusion,” Third World Quarterly vol. 25, no. 3 (2004): 579–91; Laura K. Landolt,
395
“Supporting Dictatorship and Promoting Human Rights? U.N. Tenical Assistance to
Egypt,” Journal of Intervention and Statebuilding 6, no. 2 (2012): 145–66.
7 Landolt, “Supporting Dictatorship.”
8 Landolt, “(Mis)constructing?”; Laura K. Landolt, “Externalizing Human Rights: From
Commission to Council, the Universal Periodic Review and Egypt,” Human Rights
Review vol. 14, no. 2 (2013): 107–29.
9 Clifford Bob, The Global Right Wing and the Clash of World Politics (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 2012), 20.
10 Aseem Prakash and Mary Kay Gugerty, eds, Advocacy Organizations and Collective
Action (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010); Emily B. Rodio and Hans Peter
Smitz, “Beyond Norms and Interests: Understanding the Evolution of Transnational
Human Rights Activism,” The International Journal of Human Rights vol. 14, no. 3
(2010): 442–59.
11 CIVICUS:World Alliance for Citizen Participation, State of Civil Society Report 2014,
accessed July 27, 2015, hp://tinyurl.com/ptany9w, 56.
12 William E. DeMars, NGOs and Transnational Networks (London: Pluto Press, 2005), 50.
13 William E. DeMars and Dennis Dijkzeul, eds, The NGO Challenge for International
Relations Theory (London: Routledge, 2015) 17, 5.
14 Although it is more accurate to describe ‘parts of governments’ rather than unitary
states as TAN partners, I simplify discussion by describing state partners as having
potentially divergent interests in different policy domains (DeMars 2005, 50).
15 Landolt, “Externalizing.”
16 Laura K. Landolt and Byungwon Woo, forthcoming; Landolt, “Externalizing.”
17 Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS), Bastion of Impunity, Mirage of
Reform: Annual Report 2009 (Cairo: CIHRS, 2010), 28–9; CIHRS, Roots of Unrest:
Annual Report 2010 (Cairo: CIHRS, 2011), 266.
18 Landolt, “Externalizing.”
19 Interview with author, October 2014.
20 Interview with author, November 2014.
http://tinyurl.com/ptany9w
396
21 Landolt and Woo, forthcoming.
22 Interview with author, October 2014.
23 Bob, The Global Right Wing, 18.
24 DeMars, NGOs and Transnational Networks, 45.
25 Landolt, “Externalizing.”
26 DeMars, NGOs and Transnational Networks, 45–8.
27 Interview with author, November 2014.
28 Bob, The Global Right Wing, 18.
29 Bob, The Global Right Wing, 29.
30 Interview with author, November 2014.
31 DeMars, NGOs and Transnational Networks, 31.
32 Bob, The Global Right Wing, 24.
33 CIHRS, From Exporting Terrorism to Exporting Repression: Annual Report 2008 (Cairo:
CIHRS, 2009), 28.
34 Interview with author, October 2014.
35 CIVICUS, State of Civil Society Report 2014, 26, 42.
36 International Center for Not-for-Profit Law (ICNL), “Survey of Arab NGO Laws,” Global
Trends in NGO Law 1, no. 4, accessed July 21, 2015,
www.icnl.org/resear/trends/trends1-4.html.
37 CIHRS, Exporting Terrorism, 28.
38 CIHRS, Roots of Unrest, 262.
39 United Nations General Assembly (UNGA), “Rights to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly
and of Association,” September 1, 2014, A/69/365.
40 CIHRS, Exporting Terrorism, 20.
41 CIHRS, Exporting Terrorism, 180–1; Landolt, “Externalizing.”
42 CIHRS, Bastion of Impunity, 265.
397
43 CIHRS, Bastion of Impunity, 215.
44 CIHRS, Bastion of Impunity, 221.
45 Bob, The Global Right Wing, 25.
46 CIHRS, Bastion of Impunity, 222.
47 AlKarama, “ematic Report on Multilateral Organisations and Freedom of Peaceful
Assembly and Association,” July 15, 2014, Photocopied.
48 UNGA, “Rights to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly,” 20.
49 Interview with author, October 2014.
50 Interview with author, October 2014.
51 Interview with author, October 2014.
52 CIHRS, Roots of Unrest, 268.
53 Interview with author, October 2014.
54 UNGA, “Rights to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly,” 16.
55 UNGA, “Rights to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly,” 16.
56 UNGA, “Rights to Freedom of Peaceful Assembly,” 16–17.
57 Interview with author, October 2014.
58 CIHRS, “Egyptian Human Rights Organizations Have Decided Not to Participate in
Egypt’s UPR before the UN,” November 5, 2014, accessed July 20, 2015, www.cihrs.org/?
p=9836&lang=en.
59 e NCHR links government and human rights NGOs and is modeled on OHCHR
recommendations. Critical Egyptian NGOs reject membership as potential cooptation,
while reformists join to foster influence. For Zulficar’s views on state-NGO
collaboration, see Landolt 2007.
60 I identify Abu Seada because he suggested that I do so, to convey his responses to
detractors and because, as he noted in our conversation, he regularly expresses these
views in the media.
61 Interview with author, November 2014.
398
62 Interview with author, November 2014.
63 Interview with author, November 2014.
64 Interview with author, November 2014.
65 e International Republican Institute, the National Democratic Institute and Freedom
House.
66 Kirkpatri, David D., “Egypt Elevates an Official Hostile to U.S.,” New York Times,
November 5, 2014, accessed July 20, 2015, hp://tinyurl.com/ptcdqqu.
67 Landolt, “Externalizing.”
68 Interview with author, October 2014.
69 Interview with author, October 2014.
70 CIHRS, Fractured Walls … New Horizons: Annual Report 2011. (Cairo: CIHRS, 2012), 55.
71 Interview with author, October 2014.
72 Democracy Coalition Project, “Voting at UN Human Rights Body Shows Lile
Improvement,” 2004, accessed July 14, 2012,
www.democracycaucus.net/pdf/dcp_press_release_04 .
73 Interview with author, October 2014.
74 Interview with author, October 2014.
75 Interview with author, October 2014.
http://tinyurl.com/ptcdqqu
399
Selected Bibliography
Bob, Clifford. The Global Right Wing and the Clash of World Politics.
Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.
Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS). From Exporting
Terrorism to Exporting Repression; Annual Report 2008. Cairo:
CIHRS, 2009.
Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS). Bastion of
Impunity, Mirage of Reform: Annual Report 2009. Cairo: CIHRS,
2010.
Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS). Roots of Unrest:
Annual Report 2010. Cairo: CIHRS, 2011.
Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS). Fractured Walls
… New Horizons: Annual Report 2011. Cairo: CIHRS, 2012.
CIVICUS: World Alliance for Citizen Participation. State of Civil
Society Report 2014. Accessed July 27, 2015.
hp://tinyurl.com/ptany9w.
DeMars, William E. NGOs and Transnational Networks. London:
Pluto Press, 2005.
DeMars, William E. and Dennis Dijkzeul, eds. The NGO Challenge
for International Relations Theory. London: Routledge, 2015.
International Center for Not-for-Profit Law (ICNL). “Survey of Arab
NGO laws.” Global Trends in NGO Law vol. 1, no. 4. Accessed
July 21, 2015. www.icnl.org/resear/trends/trends1-4.html.
Landolt, Laura K. “(Mis)constructing the ird World? Constructivist
analysis of norm diffusion.” Third World Quarterly vol. 25, no. 3
(2004): 579–91.
Landolt, Laura K.. “USAID, population control, and NGO-led
democratization in Egypt: e fate of the ICPD Programme of
Action.” Democratization vol. 14, no. 4 (2007): 706–22.
400
Landolt, Laura K.. “Supporting dictatorship and promoting human
rights? U.N. tenical assistance to Egypt.” Journal of
Intervention and Statebuilding vol. 6, no. 2 (2012): 145–66.
Landolt, Laura K.. “Externalizing human rights: from commission to
council, the universal periodic review and Egypt.” Human Rights
Review vol. 14, no. 2 (2013): 107–29.
Prakash, Aseem and Mary Kay Gugerty, eds. Advocacy
Organizations and Collective Action. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2010.
Rodio, Emily B. and Hans Peter Smitz. “Beyond norms and
interests: understanding the evolution of transnational human
rights activism.” The International Journal of Human Rights vol.
14, no. 3 (2010): 442–59.
Risse, omas and Kathryn Sikkink. “e socialization of
international human rights norms into domestic practices.” In
The Power of Human Rights, edited by omas Risse, Stephen C.
Ropp and Kathryn Sikkink, 1–38. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 1999.
Risse, omas, Stephen C. Ropp and Kathryn Sikkink, eds. The
Persistent Power of Human Rights. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2013.
United Nations General Assembly (UNGA). “Rights to Freedom of
Peaceful Assembly and of Association.” September 1, 2014.
A/69/365.
401
12
Redefining Rights
Organization of Islamic Cooperation
aempts to reshape values in the U.N.
human rights system
Ann Mayer
402
Introduction
e Organization of Islamic Cooperation (OIC), originally known as
the Organization of the Islamic Conference, has worked hard to
reshape aspects of international human rights law, as this review of
some of its stances on freedom of expression will illustrate. It is
striking that it has never managed to articulate one consistent vision,
sometimes conveying the impression that it means to endorse
secular values and at other times according obvious priority to
upholding Islamic law and related values. Following a brief
introductory overview of the OIC’s record, specific aspects of the
OIC’s stances will be considered whi together paint a picture of an
organization motivated more by inconsistent political impulses than
a commitment to either human rights or Islamic values.
Muslim states have both endorsed the U.N. system of human
rights and sporadically also pressed the idea of Islamic particularism,
contending that they are obligated to follow distinctive Islamic
cultural standards for human rights that clash with ones in the U.N.
system, whi they frequently dismiss as ‘Western.’ e OIC has
been similarly ambivalent. Despite having previously professed
support for the U.N. human rights system, the OIC made a public
commitment to upholding Islamic values at the expense of human
rights when it issued the Cairo Declaration on Human Rights in
Islam in 1990. As of that point, the OIC aligned itself with non-
Muslim countries like China that claimed to find international
human rights law culturally objectionable and called for respect for
‘Asian values.’
Far from expressing pure, undiluted Islamic doctrine, the Cairo
Declaration was actually a legal hybrid—a product of ambivalence.
Its provisions on civil and political rights borrowed heavily from
403
aspects of the UDHR but it curtailed the menu of rights and
employed vague, overriding Islamic criteria that effectively
eviscerated the rest. us, for example, expression offensive to Islam
was prohibited. OIC members, many of whose constitutions had
strikingly dissimilar human rights provisions, did not revise their
laws in consequence. is disparity showed that, although both the
OIC and many of its members were disposed to claim that Islam
determined their stances on human rights, they were not in fact
guided by any firm consensus on Islamic doctrine in this area.
Having produced the Cairo Declaration, the OIC did not sti by
the position that Islam clashed with human rights, oen claiming to
support international law. At times it tried to persuade the U.N. that
incorporating Islamic values would serve the cause of human rights.
us, among other things, the OIC called for international law to
adopt a rule prohibiting expression that would be insulting to Islam
or its Prophet. In 1999 the OIC began aggressively promoting the
idea that provisions banning ‘defamation of Islam’ belonged as part
of the U.N. human rights system, meaning that international law
would have to criminalize religious offenses su as blasphemy or
sacrilege. It regularly put forward resolutions in the U.N. in aempts
to aieve this, winning considerable baing but not ultimately
succeeding in rewriting international law to incorporate a ban on
defamation of Islam.
In 2011 in the U.N. the OIC anged ta. With its sponsorship of
U.N. Human Rights Council Resolution 16/18, it began endorsing
U.N. resolutions that called for “combating intolerance, negative
stereotyping and stigmatization of, and discrimination, incitement to
violence and violence against, persons based on religion or belief.”1
Taken at face value, these resolutions seemed to promote the secular
values of the U.N. human rights system, and they aracted
substantial support from non-Muslim states. Faced with skepticism,
OIC officials expressly denied that these resolutions were merely
substitutes for its earlier resolutions on banning defamation of
404
Islam.2 Upon scrutinizing OIC statements, however, one found
indications that the resolutions implicitly had the same aim as the
previous banning of ‘defamation of Islam’ campaign. In the area of
freedom of expression the OIC read these resolutions as laying the
groundwork for an international ban on blasphemous or sacrilegious
expression—that is, expression that offended religious values as
opposed to violating human rights. To justify its stance, the OIC
claimed that it was not Islam per se that it was trying to defend but
the human rights of Islam’s adherents, whi, it maintained, were
being adversely affected by insults to their religion. at is, it argued
that it was reasonable to read Res. 16/18 and its progeny as
comprising a ban on defamation of Islam even though no su
wording was in the resolutions.
e way that the OIC mixes religious and secular categories
invites criticism. One would expect an organization like the OIC that
courts the international spotlight as it promotes its views on human
rights to follow one clear philosophy. Instead, it has accumulated a
record of muddled and incoherent positions. One deduces that the
OIC’s stances have likely been adopted and refashioned in an ad hoc
manner to serve various political ends without mu aention being
paid to whether they are logically consistent.
405
estions regarding the OIC’s assumption of
Islamic authority
e adjective “Islamic” in the OIC’s name could mislead observers
into thinking that the organization claims to have a religious
aracter, as could the fact the OIC frequently presumes to possess
an authority to declare Islamic doctrine. Looking at the OIC’s
original 1974 arter and its significantly revised and updated 2008
arter, the reader finds nothing that could account for this
presumption. Instead, the OIC is conceived of as a conventional
inter-governmental organization that fits in the U.N. system, whi
would place it on a par with other secular entities like the
Organization of American States or the European Union, whi
could not plausibly claim to possess religious authority. e original
1974 arter asserted in its preamble that the OIC was commied to
“the U.N. Charter and fundamental Human Rights, the purposes and
principles of whi provide the basis for fruitful co-operation
amongst all people.” OIC Secretary General Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu,
who headed the organization 2005–2013 and who took a particular
interest in promoting the OIC’s positions on Islam and human rights,
expressly affirmed in a 2013 interview that OIC was not a religious
institution.3 His successor made a similar affirmation.4 Showing
disregard for its la of qualifications for doing so, the OIC
nonetheless oen speaks as if it were the official custodian of Islamic
orthodoxy.
e OIC’s belief that it could pronounce on religious maers was
demonstrated when it effectively approved Ayatollah Khomeini’s
1989 death edict calling for killing Salman Rushdie to punish him for
his novel The Satanic Verses, whi Khomeini claimed was ‘against
Islam.’ e question as to whether a British citizen of Muslim
406
ancestry in writing a particular work of fiction had blasphemed or
repudiated Islam could only be resolved within the confines of
Islamic jurisprudence. is fact did not deter the OIC from impliedly
endorsing Khomeini’s death edict and speaking as if Islamic criminal
law—not international human rights law—governed expression in
Britain. e OIC proclaimed that Rushdie had commied blasphemy
and that he was classed as an apostate.
In the same vein, aer intervening in the Rushdie case, when the
OIC foreign ministers shortly thereaer issued the 1990 Cairo
Declaration, they effectively assumed that they were entitled to
proclaim that Islamic criteria governed the right to freedom of
expression. e OIC’s endorsement of Islamic censorship, involving
the assumption that expression offensive to Islam should be
prohibited, can be seen in Art. 22 of the Cairo Declaration:
Article 22:
(a) Everyone shall have the right to express his opinion freely in su manner as would
not be contrary to the principles of the Shari`ah …
(c) Information is a vital necessity to society. It may not be exploited or misused in su
a way as may violate sanctities and the dignity of Prophets, undermine moral and
ethical values or disintegrate, corrupt or harm society or weaken its faith.
ese broad religious restrictions on freedom of expression clash
sharply with their secular counterparts in the ICCPR, where Article
19 stipulates only a few secular grounds for restricting freedom of
expression su as ones necessary “for respect of the rights or
reputations of others” or “for the protection of national security or of
public order (ordre public), or of public health or morals.” In
addition, Article 20 provides in subsection 2: “Any advocacy of
national, racial or religious hatred that constitutes incitement to
discrimination, hostility or violence shall be prohibited by law.” In a
peculiar development, starting in 2011, the OIC would subsequently
speak as if it had moved away from calling for Islamic censorship
407
and strain to convince the U.N. that its views on freedom of
expression coincided with ICCPR principles.
e Cairo Declaration was submied to the U.N., whi should
have condemned and rejected it for curtailing and enfeebling human
rights. Under pressure from the large voting bloc that the OIC could
muster, the U.N. agreed to treat the Cairo Declaration as a legitimate
human rights document, and it was included in the U.N. documents
issuing from the 1993 World Conference on Human Rights in Vienna
that were published by the Office of the U.N. High Commissioner for
Human Rights.5 If one takes this as a sign that the U.N. recognizes
the validity of the Cairo Declaration, one could say that the OIC did
manage to get the U.N. to anowledge its prerogative to reshape
human rights to fit Islamic values. ere is, however, lile indication
that within U.N. corridors the Cairo Declaration in practice enjoys
any real authority.
408
e OIC’s attempts to insert its Islamic
censorship criteria into international law
e Islamic censorship criteria in the Cairo Declaration initially
seemed only to apply to expression in Muslim states. is anged,
however, with the growth of the OIC’s ambitions to insert Islamic
limits on freedom of expression into international law. is effort
correlated with a line in the revised OIC 2008 arter, whi calls on
the OIC “to protect and defend the true image of Islam, to combat
defamation of Islam … ” e OIC sought to make international law
into a vehicle for the extraterritorial extension of Islamic censorship,
envisaging an outcome where the duty to combat defamation of
Islam would become part of international law. If the OIC succeeded,
it would mean that the same expression that would be criminalized
as blasphemous in a country like Iran would likewise be criminalized
in a country like Britain. In consequence, the OIC could claim that
Britain was violating international law if it resisted punishing future
Salman Rushdies.
What was the motivation behind this? Obviously, the OIC shared
its members’ belief in tough censorship, but there was also another
reason. An organization like the OIC whose members were routinely
pilloried by Western governments and by NGOs based in the West
for their egregious human rights violations had reason to want to
retaliate by finding ways to portray Western democracies as being
remiss in their human rights obligations. A review of the OIC’s
behavior substantiates the conclusion that the OIC was looking for a
way to put Western democracies on the defensive. Under the OIC’s
plan, once international law incorporated rules of Islamic censorship,
with whi Western democracies would predictably fail to comply,
they could be aaed for violating international human rights law.
409
In 1999 the OIC began pressuring the U.N. to incorporate into
international human rights law the duty to criminalize what it called
defamation of Islam, proposing many resolutions to this effect but
neglecting to clarify the scope of the crucial term ‘defamation.’
Reviewing the OIC’s actual usage of the term, one gets the
impression that for the most part it corresponds to religiously-based
concepts like blasphemy or sacrilege. It can, however, have a broader
rea.
On its face, this English legal term seems inapposite, because in
common law defamation claims can be brought by natural persons,
not juristic persons. Moreover, claims and cannot be brought on
behalf of dead persons, su as a long deceased prophet. at
defamation was osen could be explained by the fact that the OIC
worried about employing terms like blasphemy or sacrilege that
were too obviously linked to specific religious categories. e OIC
was hoping in this period to win U.N. approval for its aempt to
insert Islamic censorship criteria into international law, whi made
it prefer a term that was not directly tied to religion. e term
defamation already figured in some secular international human
rights instruments, as in concepts like group defamation and
defamation as a violation of the human right to reputation. us, by
using defamation rather than blasphemy, the OIC could maintain a
pretense of staying within the confines of secular international law.
Because the OIC sought to portray itself as operating within the
confines of international human rights law at the same time that it
was ampioning Islamic censorship, the various resolutions on
combating defamation of Islam are studded with references to
human rights principles. e 2007 Human Rights Council Resolution
4/9 Combating defamation of religions could be offered as an
example.6 Far from highlighting its aims to impose Islamic
censorship, the resolution repeatedly seeks to portray its goal as
upholding human rights and prohibiting defamation of all religions,
portraying this as a problem that is causing human rights violations
410
and as “an aggravating factor that contributes to the denial of
fundamental rights and freedoms of target groups, as well as their
economic and social exclusion.”(Art. 4).
e resolution seeks to portray the call for punishing defamation
of Islam as being compatible with ICCPR provisions on freedom of
expression. To do this Art. 7 of the resolution cites ICCPR Article
20/2—but only with a major modification to the original, whi
provides: “Any advocacy of national, racial or religious hatred that
constitutes incitement to discrimination, hostility or violence shall
be prohibited by law.” Significantly, the resolution adds new wording
that calls for prohibiting “material aimed at any religion or its
followers.” is added phrase widens the grounds for censorship far
beyond the limits originally contemplated, showing how the OIC
seeks to reshape human rights law by adding principles prioritizing
Islamic concerns. e resolution in Art.10 also adds wording
permiing curbs on freedom of expression necessary for “respect for
religions and beliefs” and expands the potential grounds for
censorship by banning expression “aimed at any religion,” a principle
that is so vague that it would allow far reaing censorship. As
critics have noted, the U.N. human rights system aims to protect
human beings, not institutions like religion, so this proposed
alteration is of great magnitude. e range of spee that might be
classed as not showing respect for religions is potentially expandable
to the point where freedom of expression could be nullified—a result
that many OIC member states, whi are wedded to draconian
censorship policies, would be disposed to welcome.
e OIC resolutions were vigorously denounced by NGOs
commied to upholding international human rights law as well as
by states that take human rights law seriously.7 A central objection
was that demands to curb the right to freedom of expression by
imposing religious censorship embody a philosophy directly at odds
with the ICCPR, whi, as noted, specifies only a few secular
conditions that may be invoked to restrict freedom of expression.
411
e OIC response to the Danish cartoons
e Danish Cartoons case aptly illustrates how the OIC seeks to
portray Western democracies as being seriously deficient in their
human rights performance and also how it confuses purely religious
offenses like insults to Islam with secular offenses like hate spee
that are classed as human rights violations under international law.
Cartoon depictions of the Prophet Muhammad were published in
September 2005 in Jyllands-Posten, a Danish-language newspaper
with a small circulation. e cartoon that was later singled out as
most offensive was a drawing by Kurt Westergaard of the head of
the Prophet with a bomb poking out of his bla turban. e
announced objective of the newspaper in publishing the cartoons
was to assert the principle of freedom of expression in the face of
mounting pressures for the self-censorship that some were arguing
was needed to avoid offending Muslims. e paper indicated that it
wanted to break with the political correctness that did not allow
treating Muslims like any other religious group.8 Of course, because
there were right wing political movements in Europe that pandered
to growing anti-immigrant sentiment, many viewed the cartoons as
being connected to xenophobia and, more specifically, to
Islamophobic trends.
Professing outrage, the OIC undertook to mobilize worldwide
Muslim opinion against the cartoons.9 When its demands for
censorship and punishing the cartoonists were rejected by the
Danish government, OIC Secretary General Ihsanoglu protested,
revealing the kind of harsh censorship regime that he wanted Europe
to implement. He complained of European baing for Denmark’s
failure to prosecute Jyllands-Posten, condemning the decision by
Danish courts to dismiss a defamation lawsuit brought by Muslims
412
who tried to sue Jyllands-Posten and scoffing at the Danish
government’s explanation that Danish laws guarantee the freedom
of the press.10
Significantly, the OIC asserted that the Danish government was
violating international human rights law when it failed to censor the
cartoons and to punish those involved in their publication. at is,
even though its campaign to have international law formally adopt a
principle criminalizing defamation of Islam had not succeeded, the
OIC spoke as though the past support of many states for its U.N.
resolutions had signaled an international endorsement of bans on
insulting Islam and the Prophet. In January 2006, the OIC espoused
the cause of the Muslims condemning the Danish cartoons at the
U.N. and asked the U.N. for a binding resolution “banning contempt
for religious beliefs and providing for sanctions to be imposed on
contravening countries or institutions.”11 Again one had a clear
indication of how dramatically the OIC’s preoccupation with
sacrilege reflected values that differed from those in international
law, a secular law that does not ban people from expressing
contempt for religious beliefs or require states to impose criminal
penalties on people who express su aitudes.
e OIC’s criticisms of Denmark demonstrated its inability to use
defamation of religion consistently; not for the first nor for the last
time, it used the term as if it covered both religious offenses and
human rights violations—and as if the two were interangeable. e
OIC’s merger of religious and secular offenses was exemplified in
how Ihsanoglu spoke in a June 2013 interview with al Jazeera, where
he complained about the cartoons on the grounds that they insulted
a prophet who was venerated by Muslims.12 Of course, this would
mean that the cartoonists’ offense was like blasphemy or sacrilege,
the parameters of whi can only be determined within a given
religious tradition. In saying this, Ihsanoglu seemed to have lost
tra of the fact that the OIC’s position was that the duty to ban
defamation of Islam should be accepted as a secular human rights
413
principle. In the same interview, Ihsanoglu also spoke as if his
objections to allowing the cartoons to be published were grounded
in international human rights law—whi suggested that he believed
that international law embraced the principle set forth Cairo
Declaration in Article 22/c, whi bars expression that “may violate
sanctities and the dignity of Prophets.”13
Showing how amorphous his concept of defamation of Islam was,
in an interview with Jyllands-Posten in October 2008 he had
previously spoken as if his objections to the cartoons were not at all
religiously based but concerned instead a violation of the ICCPR ban
on hate spee. In this 2008 interview, he lectured Denmark, a
country with a particularly fine human rights record, about its
supposed human rights deficiencies and positioned the OIC as the
defender of human rights. Ihsanoglu struggled to associate insults to
Islam and blasphemy with secular hate spee, insisting on a causal
link between hate spee, by whi he meant the cartoonists’
offensive depiction of the Prophet, and aas on Muslims and
discriminatory treatment that Muslims suffered in the West.
Heedless of the sharp self-contradictions that this entailed, Ihsanoglu
disingenuously protested that curbing freedom of expression or
criticisms of religions was not at all the OIC’s objective. Instead, he
maintained that its concern was deterring spee that was
intentionally sowing hatred against a group of people and causing
harm to them:
I am quite surprised to see in the Danish press insinuations that I or the OIC are
opponents of freedom of expression who are endeavoring to stifle this freedom by
calling for banning of criticism of religions. Everybody is entitled to criticize anybody
or anything … We have no problem whatsoever with this. However, when freedom of
expression is abused to ridicule and demonize with the intention to sow seeds of hatred
against a group of peoples or citizens, then problems start because the rights of the
victims of this incitement comes to the fore.14
As a critical observer would note, if the OIC’s concern were actually
preventing the harms that hate spee caused to targeted groups, the
414
OIC’s repeated efforts to win U.N. support for its resolutions on the
duty to combat defamation of Islam would not have made any sense.
e resolutions would have been totally superfluous, because hate
spee had already been prohibited under ICCPR Art. 20/2 since
1966. It therefore strained credulity to have the OIC protesting that it
was not seeking to impose religious censorship but was merely
aiming to aieve the same objectives as those already served by the
secular principles set forth in ICCPR Art. 20/2, whi had been in
force for decades.
How in OIC parlance the crucial distinctions between religious
and secular categories were collapsed was also shown in Ihsanoglu’s
2006 lecture in Moscow.15 According to the transcript of the lecture,
he complained that the Danish Cartoons were “blasphemous
cartoons whi offended the image of the Prophet of Islam.” at is,
under Islamic law they constituted criminal acts, a conclusion that
could only be reaed by reference to Islamic doctrine. But he also
tried to squeeze them into the category of ICCPR Art. 20/2 hate
spee, claiming that they “depicted him in a way to arouse hatred
to Islam and Muslims,” claiming without any evidence that the
cartoonists’ intended objective was “inciting hatred against Muslim
population in Denmark and elsewhere and exposing them to
prejudice and threats.” at is, aer employing a religious category,
“blasphemy,” to indicate why the cartoonists’ drawings were
objectionable, he offered the unsupported conclusion that in drawing
the Prophet the cartoonists were intentionally engaged in expressing
“advocacy of national, racial or religious hatred” that would be
prohibited under the secular rules of the ICCPR. e goal was
obviously to persuade the audience that insults to Islam should be
equated with hate spee with the corollary that Islamic censorship
should be imposed in the interests of protecting human rights.
Contributing to the confusion about what it thinks are grounds for
censorship, the OIC oen swites terms, using defamation of Islam
and Islamophobia interangeably. Like ‘defamation,’ in the OIC’s
415
parlance ‘Islamophobia’ is an offense that the OIC uses in more than
one sense. e incoherence that aracterizes the OIC’s discussions
of human rights was embodied in Ihsanoglu’s stumbling aempt to
define Islamophobia when asked about it in 2013 by an interviewer
in an al-Jazeera program. His muddled comments proved that, even
though he had regularly denounced Islamophobia, he had no secure
grasp of its definitional parameters. Ihsanoglu initially seemed at sea
when the interviewer asked him what Islamophobia consisted of,
flailing about for a bit before tossing out various ideas about what it
would cover. Some were purely offenses against religion like
desecrating tombstones, defaming religion, and writing a book
insulting the Prophet. is last was most likely a reference to
Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses, whi the OIC had once condemned
as constituting blasphemy, that is, on religious grounds.
Significantly, as of 2013 it seemed that the OIC preferred to reclassify
Rushdie’s offence as being Islamophobia, a term that it had not
originally used. Because by 2013 the OIC was making efforts to
prove that its concerns fit in mainstream secular categories, it had
every reason to present its objections to Rushdie’s novel as being
based on its abhorrence of Islamophobia, a rubric that, as applied to
Rushdie, involved gross distortions. Rushdie’s autobiography shows
his long engagement with Islamic history, dating ba to his studies
at Cambridge, as well as his affinity for Islamic culture and its
distinguished thinkers like the rationalist philosopher Ibn Rushd,
from whom his father took the family name.16 It also describes his
bafflement and horror at being suddenly demonized as an enemy of
Islam based on egregious misrepresentations of the story actually
told in his novel.
In aempts to nail down the concept of Islamophobia in the same
interview, Ihsanoglu mentioned other secular offenses like politicians
using xenophobic rhetoric (presumably directed at Muslims) and
discrimination against immigrants (presumably against Muslims) in
the name of social and economic concerns.17 at is, he continued to
416
mix up offenses like blasphemy or sacrilege and the secular offense
of hate spee that leads to bad treatment of immigrants. From his
confused perspective, both types of offenses could be classed as
Islamophobia, whi again revealed a disinclination to recognize the
significant differences separating religious crimes from secular
human rights violations.
417
e OIC’s preoccupation with insults to
Islam in the West
Aer failing in its aempts in the U.N. to have defamation of Islam
formally prohibited under international law, the OIC decided to
ange tactics. As of 2011 the OIC elected to pose as being
supportive of the ICCPR, sponsoring the U.N. Human Rights Council
Resolution 16/18, the first of a series of resolutions baed by the
OIC on combating intolerance, negative stereotyping and
stigmatization of, and discrimination, incitement to violence and
violence against, persons based on religion or belief. e OIC’s
ange from advocating Islamic particularism to professing support
for the ICCPR was only superficial, however. Instead of actually
embracing secular human rights principles, the OIC continued to
show a determination to see the West condemned for failing to curb
defamation of Islam. In this connection, it sought to define the
principles in Res. 16/18 as endorsing the duty to combat defamation
of Islam, a problem that the OIC insisted was causing grievous
harms to Muslims in the West. In this connection the OIC made
many complaints about the West’s wrongful failure to clamp down
on Islamophobia, Islamophobia being so loosely defined that it
comprised blasphemy and sacrilege. e OIC acted as if purely
religious offenses should be seen as violating Res. 16/18—even
though the actual wording of the resolution gave no grounds for
doing so. Again, lurking behind the OIC’s ostensible move to
endorse secular principles was a continued commitment to imposing
Islamic censorship.
In this connection, the OIC faced a problem in dealing with real
world evidence, whi showed that its complaints about the harms
caused to Muslims by Islamophobia that was allegedly centered in
418
the West were grotesquely unbalanced. Muslims were suffering from
far more egregious human rights violations in the OIC’s allies China
and Russia, where expressions of Islamophobia were condoned and
where Muslims were harshly persecuted on religious grounds,
without provoking vigorous denunciations by the OIC. Moreover,
within OIC member states the kind of hate spee prohibited under
ICCPR Art. 20/2 and condemned by Res. 16/18 was commonplace.
Religious invective, oen abeed by governments, was exacerbating
sectarian antagonisms and socio-religious tensions to the point that
mu of the region from North Africa to Bangladesh was wraed
by religiously-based turmoil that regularly exploded into violent
aas and lethal conflicts. It was particularly telling that the OIC
did not make a commitment to denounce and combat the vitriolic
aas targeting Muslims launed by other Muslims that were
proliferating in Muslim countries—frequently with the acquiescence
if not with the approval of the local regimes. One has only to
consider the clashes and killings involving antagonistic Islamic sects
during bier sectarian conflicts on the territories of OIC members
su as Afghanistan, Bahrain, Egypt, Iraq, Kuwait, Lebanon, Libya,
Nigeria, Pakistan, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Yemen to be reminded of
how extensive religiously-motivated violence has been inside the
OIC. Aer traing religious restrictions and religious hostilities
around the world since 2007, the Pew Resear Center reported in
2014 that the level of social hostilities involving religion was
increasing, with the Middle East and North Africa being the region
most afflicted by sectarian violence, showing the sharpest rise in
incidents in 2012. In contrast, su hostilities had not increased in
the Americas.18
Given its posturing as a supporter of the goals of Res. 16/18 in a
period when Muslims within OIC member states were being
subjected to vilification, discrimination, persecution, abductions,
murderous assaults, and terrorist bombings by other Muslims on the
basis of their religious affiliations and beliefs, the OIC should
419
logically have placed these acute problems in the spotlight. When
the OIC instead pretended that it was in Western democracies that
Muslims were suffering particularly badly from religious intolerance,
it sacrificed its credibility.
Having repeatedly made arguments in the U.N. to the effect that
defamation of Islam in the West harmed Muslims, the OIC had a
particular reason to try to divert aention away from the destructive
religious violence inside OIC countries where Islamic censorship is
rigid and where blasphemy and sacrilege are criminalized. is
reality undermines the causation theory that the OIC proposals at
the U.N. have relied on. According to this theory, imposing Islamic
censorship and criminalizing defamation of Islam are essential
prerequisites for protecting Muslims’ human rights. e OIC
apparently cannot find a way to reconcile this theory with the on the
ground reality that precisely the kinds of human rights violations
that Res. 16/18 condemns plague Muslims living in OIC countries
where any insults to Islam are severely punished with penalties that
may even include execution.
Ostensibly, the OIC’s aas on Western Islamophobia and related
evils like Western toleration of defamation of Islam are aimed at
protecting Islam and Muslims, but the real purpose, placing the West
on the defensive, and the OIC’s political biases were displayed in
remarks made by Ihsanoglu at a Geneva meeting on the
implementation of Res. 16/18 in June 2013. He asserted: “Combating
discrimination and intolerance forms a most daunting allenge of
our times. It constitutes a maer of vital concern at the OIC.”19 In
reality the OIC’s record suggested a preference to downplay that
“daunting allenge” in cases where discrimination and religious
intolerance harmed millions of people living in OIC member states—
or in states allied with the OIC like China and Russia. us,
Ihsanoglu continued to complain about relatively minor or
peripheral incidents in the West, including ones that he placed under
the label of Islamophobia but that were actually more redolent of
420
sacrilege. His blinkered perspective was mu in evidence in his
complaints about Islamophobia in the Geneva meeting, a meeting
that was supposed to focus on Res. 16/18:
e increasing trend of Islamophobia is indeed ominous in a globalized world. ere
has been an alarming increase in intolerance and discrimination against Muslims. It
must be appreciated that there is mounting public pressure on OIC Member States to
take concrete action. Alarming increase in Islamophobic incidents like the Utoya
massacre in Norway, the burning of ran by the Florida Pastor [meaning Terry Jones]
and release the reprehensible trailer [meaning Innocence of Muslims] on You tube
continue to hurt the religious sentiments of over 1.5 billion Muslims.[sic]20
It is noteworthy that when purporting to discuss the secular civil
and political rights central to Res.16/18, Ihsanoglu ignored the dire
conditions plaguing Muslims living in OIC member states in 2013.
Instead, he spoke as if the outstanding problems facing Muslims in
the area covered by Res. 16/18 lay in two U.S. incidents and a highly
unusual mass murder in Norway, whi did tie in with Islamophobic
trends in the West but the practical impact of whi on Muslims was
trivial in comparison to the contemporaneous sufferings of Muslims
afflicted by human rights violations in OIC member states. In the
U.S. cases Islam’s Scripture and Prophet had been insulted by the
acts of obscure, hate-fueled individuals, and in Norway Anders
Breivik, an isolated and deeply disturbed misfit who imagined that
he was a commander of the revived order of the Knights Templar,
had killed eight Norwegians by detonating a bomb in Oslo and then
had slaughtered seventy seven Norwegians on Utoya Island.
It was true that all three perpetrators had Islamophobic aitudes,
but singling out their acts for special condemnation made no sense
in this context, where logically the focus should have been on
problems of far greater magnitude that were having devastating
consequences for Muslims. Not only did the OIC grotesquely
exaggerate the significance of these incidents, but citing the Anders
Breivik case was particularly inapposite—unless the sole aim was to
find a pretext to aa Norway, a democracy with a stellar human
421
rights record. As in other cases where it reflexively aributed
Islamophobic motives to Westerners whom it singled out for
condemnation, in citing Breivik’s actions to illustrate the nefarious
impact of Islamophobia, the OIC failed to investigate the facts. e
West is beset by hardcore Islamophobes like Pamela Geller and Gert
Wilders, but they differ from deluded persons like Breivik. Breivik
had concocted an eccentric and tangled ideology. e dangerous
forces against whi he imagined himself leading an heroic crusade
included feminism, multiculturalism, and Marxism—with his fury at
feminists being particularly powerful. A detailed study of Breivik’s
life indicates that, having become embiered by his failures with
women, he imagined that feminism was emasculating Norwegian
men. He harbored fierce hatred for former Prime Minister Gro
Harlem Brundtland, an outspoken feminist. Inspired by videos of al-
Qaeda beheadings, he had intended to capture, humiliate, and
behead her when he went to Utoya.21 With his twisted mentality, he
was far from being a poster boy for Islamophobia, whi was only
one of the phobias beseing him.
No entity with any genuine concern for realizing the aims of Res.
16/18 and protecting Muslims’ human rights would have highlighted
these three cases as deserving aention at a time when millions of
Muslims were acutely suffering from the kinds of abuses that Res.
16/18 condemned. at the OIC, being determined to put Western
democracies on the wrong foot, ose to portray the United States
and Norway as standing out in terms of violating the principles in
Res. 16/18 was a sign of its distorted priorities and bias. Moreover,
singling out two U.S. incidents where sacrilege was the offense and
the precepts of Cairo Declaration Art. 22/c were violated
demonstrated the OIC’s ongoing preoccupation with insults to Islam.
In sum, the comments discredited the OIC’s claims to be commied
to the principles in Res. 16/18.
422
Conclusion
e OIC has tried repeatedly to insert rules into international human
rights law that will have the effect of superimposing Islamic values
on human rights principles. It has not, however, articulated
consistent positions on the relationship of Islamic law to
international human rights law. e OIC’s contradictory positions
are exemplified in its clinging to the 1990 Cairo Declaration on
Human Rights in Islam, whi inserts vague Islamic qualifications to
eviscerate civil and political rights, while proposing measures and
making many public statements that are designed to convey the
impression that it has moved beyond the declaration. Although some
may imagine that the Cairo Declaration is passe, the current
Secretary General Iyad Ameen Madani in 2014 endorsed it as “the
OIC’s most complete statement on human rights in Islam,”
complaining that “current international human rights laws are based
on Western values.”22
Despite clinging to the Cairo Declaration, where issues of freedom
of expression are concerned, the OIC wants the international
community to accept that, based on measures like its formal baing
for Res. 16/18 and pretenses of support for related ICCPR principles,
it has abandoned its campaign for Islamic censorship and is instead
pursuing the goal of protecting Muslims from harmful hate spee.
e record reveals, however, that, to the extent that the OIC
endorses the ICCPR, it is only because it reads Cairo Declaration
principles that restrict freedom of expression into that covenant,
where they patently do not fit.
As the foregoing discussion indicates, the OIC has shown a blithe
disregard for the gap separating religious offenses like insults to
Islamic sanctities and offenses that constitute violations of
423
international human rights law. Demonstrating palpable political
biases, the OIC has failed to articulate logical and plausible lines on
how Islamic values should figure in human rights or even to use its
own terminology in a consistent fashion. It has le a record that is
so confused that observers, if asked to pinpoint the OIC’s exact
position on human rights, would encounter great difficulty in doing
so. e OIC wants to make out a persuasive case that incorporating
Islamic values will enhance human rights, but the disarray in its
policies stands in the way.
424
Notes
1 Since 2011 numerous resolutions on this topic have been passed in the Human Rights
Council and the General Assembly. For the first in the series see Resolution adopted by
the Human Rights Council 16/18 Combating intolerance, negative stereotyping and
stigmatization of, and discrimination, incitement to violence and violence against,
persons based on religion or belief, accessed July 17, 2015,
www2.ohr.org/english/bodies/hrcouncil/docs/16session/A.HRC.RES.16.18_en .
2 See “OIC commends resolution on religious discrimination,” Arab News, Mar 26, 2011,
accessed July 17, 2015, hp://arabnews.com/middleeast/article330915.ece
3 Al Jazeera, “Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu: Combating Islamophobia. e Secretary General of
the OIC discusses discrimination, freedom of expression and religious persecution in the
West,” Talk to Al Jazeera, June 1, 2013, accessed July 17, 2015, www.youtube.com/wat?
v=fv0DarFDgHY.
4 See Habib Shaikh, “OIC seeks rights debates based on Islamic values,” Arab News,
February 4, 2014, accessed July 17, 2015, hp://oiumanrights.wordpress.com/.
5 See Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, Human Rights: A Compilation
of International Instruments: Volume II: Regional Instruments (Geneva: OHCHR, 1997),
475–476.
6 Human Rights Council. Resolution 4/9. Combating defamation of religions, Mar 27,
2007, accessed July 17, 2015, hp://ap.ohr.org/documents/E/HRC/resolutions/A-HRC-
RES-4-9 .
7 See e.g. e U.N. Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression et al,
“International Meanisms for Promoting Freedom of Expression. Joint Declaration on
Defamation of Religions, and Anti-Terrorism and Anti-Extremism Legislation,”
December 9, 2008, accessed July 17, 2015, www.osce.org/fom/35639?download=true
Article 19, “ARTICLE 19 and e Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS)
Joint Wrien Statement submied by ARTICLE 19, a non-governmental organisation
425
on the Roster, and the Cairo Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS), a non-
governmental organisation in special consultative status,” September 11, 2008, accessed
July 17, 2015, www.article19.org/pdfs/press/un-resolutions-on-combating-defamation-
of-religions , Women Living Under Muslim Laws, “Women Living Under Muslim
Laws Demands the U.N. Resolution on Combating Defamation of Religions be revoked,”
April 7, 2009, accessed July 17, 2015, www.cwgl.rutgers.edu/docman/cwgl-news/308-04-
07-09-wluml/file.
8 Jye Klausen, The Cartoons That Shook the World (New Haven: Yale University Press,
2009), 15.
9 See ibid, 39.
10 Organization of Islamic Cooperation, “Statement of Secretary General at the first
International Conference Organized by (OIC) under the eme: ‘Challenging
Stereotypes in Europe and the Islamic World,’” February 5, 2006, accessed July 19, 2015,
www.oic-oci.org/oicv2/topic/?t_id=2318&ref=1020&lan=en.
11 P.K. Abdul Ghafour and Abdul Hannan Faisal Tago, “OIC, Arab League seek U.N.
resolution on cartoons,” Arab News, January 30, 2006, accessed July 17, 2015,
www.arabnews.com/?page=1§ion=0&article=77052&d=30&m=1&y=2006.
12 See “Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu: Combating Islamophobia.”
13 Ibid.
14 Organization of Islamic Cooperation, “e Full text of the interview of the Secretary
General with the Danish Daily Jyllands Posten, published on October 28, 2008,” accessed
July 17, 2015, www.oic-oci.org/english/article/Jyllands%20Posten%20Interview .
15 See LITTEREF.RU, Lecture of His Excellency Prof. Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu, Secretary
General of e Organization of e Islamic Conference, at e Mgimo University,
Moscow, on Islam and Dialogue Among Civilizations, June 8, 2006, accessed July 17,
2015, hp://lierref.ru/yfspolujgyfsrnabew.html.
16 See Salman Rushdie, Joseph Anton (New York: Random House, 2013).
17 See “Ekmeleddin Ihsanoglu: Combating Islamophobia.”
18 Pew Resear, “Religious hostilities rea six-year high,” January 14, 2014, accessed July
17, 2015, www.pewresear.org/fact-tank/2014/01/17/key-findings-about-growing-
426
religious-hostilities-around-the-world/.
19 Organization of Islamic Cooperation, “Statement by His Excellency the Secretary
General at the 3rd Istanbul Process Meeting on the follow-up of Implementation of HRC
Resolution 16/18,” accessed July 17, 2015,
hps://oiumanrights.wordpress.com/tag/tolerance/.
20 Ibid.
21 See Asne Seierstad One of Us: The Story of Anders Breivik and the Massacre in Norway,
trans. Sarah Death (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015).
22 Habib Shaikh, “OIC seeks rights debates based on Islamic values,” Arab News, February
4, 2014, accessed July 17, 2015, hp://oiumanrights.wordpress.com/.
427
Selected Bibliography
Article 19. “ARTICLE 19 and e Cairo Institute for Human Rights
Studies (CIHRS). Joint Wrien Statement submied by ARTICLE
19, a non-governmental organisation on the Roster, and the Cairo
Institute for Human Rights Studies (CIHRS), a non-governmental
organisation in special consultative status,” September 11, 2008
www.article19.org/pdfs/press/un-resolutions-on-combating-
defamation-of-religions (accessed July 17, 2015).
Human Rights Council. “Resolution 4/9. Combating defamation of
religions,” Mar 27, 2007
hp://ap.ohr.org/documents/E/HRC/resolutions/A-HRC-RES-
4-9 (accessed July 17, 2015).
Human Rights Council. “Resolution adopted by the Human Rights
Council. 16/18 Combating intolerance, negative stereotyping and
stigmatization of, and discrimination, incitement to violence and
violence against, persons based on religion or belief,” April 12,
2011
www2.ohr.org/english/bodies/hrcouncil/docs/16session/A.HR
C.RES.16.18_en (accessed June 29, 2015).
Klausen, Jye. The Cartoons That Shook the World. New Haven: Yale
University Press, 2009.
Organization of Islamic Cooperation. “Statement by His Excellency
the Secretary General at the 3rd Istanbul Process Meeting on the
follow-up of Implementation of HRC Resolution 16/18,” June 20,
2013 hps://oiumanrights.wordpress.com/tag/tolerance/
(accessed July 17, 2015).
Pew Resear. “Religious hostilities rea six-year high,” January 14,
2014 www.pewresear.org/fact-tank/2014/01/17/key-findings-
428
about-growing-religious-hostilities-around-the-world/ (accessed
July 17, 2015).
Rushdie, Salman. Joseph Anton. New York: Random House, 2015.
Seierstad, Asne. One of Us: The Story of Anders Breivik and the
Massacre in Norway. Translated by Sarah Death. New York:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2015.
e U.N. Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Opinion and Expression,
the OSCE Representative on Freedom of the Media, the OAS
Special Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression and the ACHPR
(African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights) Special
Rapporteur on Freedom of Expression and Access to
Information. “International meanisms for promoting freedom
of expression. Joint declaration on defamation of religions, and
anti-terrorism and anti-extremism legislation,” December 9, 2008
www.osce.org/fom/35639?download=true (accessed July 17,
2015).
Women Living Under Muslim Laws. “Women Living Under Muslim
Laws demands the U.N. resolution on combating defamation of
religions be revoked,” April 7, 2009
www.cwgl.rutgers.edu/docman/cwgl-news/308-04-07-09-
wluml/file (accessed July 17, 2015).
429
13
Human Rights, Youth, and
Tenology
Agents of ange?
Mahmood Monshipouri
430
Introduction
In the pre-digital era, the expression of dissent took the form of
spreading anonymous pamphlets and sharing of information and
banned books, meeting underground, or even organizing
associations outside the country. Speaking on the phone and
communicating through mail or formal media in order to express
anti-regime sentiments, mobilize anti-government opposition, or
simply criticize the government more generally, were activities
considered far too dangerous. e presence of retaliatory constraints
on protest in authoritarian regimes was intensified by the absence of
information. e rise of networked communication, along with
growing numbers of educated individuals, generated a massive
internal implosion in the wake of a spontaneous trigger.1 Yet the
collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989 and the ensuing uprisings in
Eastern and Central European satellite states in the 1990s occurred
under su circumstances and there is no denying the fact that
young people were the most common advocates of ange in street
politics throughout the region.
Economic hardship and state repression caused a new wave of
revolutionary movements that plunged the region into tumultuous
ange. Nowhere was this shi more blatantly obvious than in
Egypt, where a combination of economic and political factors proved
critical in further consolidating opposition to the Mubarak regime.
e emergence of Kefaya movement (2004), whi brought together
an amalgam of political proclivities ranging from nationalist to
communist to Islamist, led to a united front around demands for
electoral reform. Defining itself as a loose movement, the Kefaya
movement used social media to organize demonstrations and
worked in tandem with working class (su as textile workers in
431
Mohalla al-Kubra) to broaden the movement’s base and to ensure
inclusiveness. Although Kefaya movement lost its luster years before
the uprising, one of the founders of the April 6 Movement, whi
played a key role in organizing the January 2011 protests, came from
Kefaya’s youth movement.2
Two other important factors—endemic corruption and ethnic
identity—proved crucial to creating solidarity among protesters.
Under Mubarak, corruption and embezzlement of public funds
became rampant, as the privatization programs were boosted to the
detriment of the shrinking public sector. e resulting degradation of
the Egyptian economy in the 2000s, along with the removal of
subsidies, hurt the nation’s large working classes—a development
that could very well explain the emergence of Kefaya-textile workers
alliance and the significant role it played in undermining the
Mubarak rule. Arguably, ethnic identity—an important element of
the Arab uprisings—came to serve as the driving organizing
principle in mu of Arab politics. Most notably, however, an
extraordinary spirit of youth solidarity transcended regional and
ethnic divides, and soon brought in the older generation, families,
and others far beyond the traditional opposition.3
With the rise of cyber-activism in the 2000s, a new form of civic
and political engagement for the youth of su regimes flourished.4
Empowered by modern communication tenologies, connected to
the globe through new social networks, and equipped with the
opportunity to exercise their imaginations, young people throughout
the world have risen in opposition in the face of constant threat of
instability, economic turmoil, and a mu less receptive political
environment. Aer growing up learning that they could trust no
one, social media have made it possible for them to come together in
a meaningful ways.5 Increasingly, young people have converted their
discouragement and rage into an enormous reservoir of social and
political activism by becoming agents of ange both in symbolic
and substantive ways.6 While modern tenologies are morally
432
neutral—that is, they can either sustain the status quo or alter the
rules of the game—they have given the youth movement an
unprecedented momentum to enter into the political arena, seek new
economic opportunities, and redefine new norms of accountability.
Guarding against cyber-optimism, many observers concede that
even in countries where access to social media is relatively high,
cyber-activism alone evidently cannot fully account for mass
mobilizations of dissent. Building grassroots support to sustain
significant uprisings hinges upon establishing linkages within local
communities and domestic social networks.7 Without su local
connectivity and interactivity, new tenologies are unlikely to
conjure up any practical results. But as access to mobile and modern
tenology has increased, cyber movements and other forms of
online activism have risen in importance, creating new possibilities
and allenges that need to be taken seriously. It is within these
dynamic, shiing, and new contexts that youth movements across
the globe have drawn media and popular aention.
At the same time, tenologically led movements have their own
limits, as experts remind us, in part because they do not necessarily
translate into enduring movements or robust political parties or
platforms capable of posing a formidable allenge to entrened
authoritarian regimes. e Internet-driven youth movements against
the Mubarak regime in Egypt lost badly in the ensuing
parliamentary elections to the far more organized and broadly based
Islamist movements. e members of Egypt’s Muslim Brotherhood,
for example, were skilled at taking advantage of electoral gaps, as
their social welfare programs were arguably the method by whi
they manifested electoral successes.
It is worth noting that these same tenological tools have equally
strengthened the surveillance and coercive capabilities of the
authoritarian state now in power in Egypt.8 Hence the assumption
that these newly empowered and informed citizens will be unlikely
to surrender to a dictatorship remains as yet untested.9 is apter
433
examines the relationship between demographic trends and revolt,
and the spread of tenology and democratization with a view
toward demonstrating the possibilities and limits to human rights-
related youth movements as agents of ange in the Middle East and
North Africa (MENA).
434
Tenology upends traditional politics
In a shrinking world, with new modes of communications available,
ideas transcend borders and are carried over the airwaves or in the
universe of the virtual world, where many minds come together and
interact. In response to lingering economic and sociopolitical
problems, an intriguing trend in the contemporary Muslim world
has emerged in whi the increasing interplay between human
rights and Islamic discourses has become an inescapable part of the
region’s political dynamic. In Egypt, the Kefaya movement (2004)
drew in both Islamist and liberal elements. In Yemen in 2005, the
Islamist party Islah entered into an electoral coalition with the
Yemeni socialist party—a cooperation that continued to some degree
in 2011 in the street protests against President Ali Abdullah Saleh. It
is important to avoid the temptation to see the world in simplistic,
culturally determined binaries. Instead, we should be mindful of a
diversity of political and social trends, including grassroots-level
human rights movements influenced by global norms and laws.10
Members of both the ‘April 6 Youth Movement’ and Kefaya were
behind the creation of another popular Facebook group, one
supporting Mohamed ElBaradei, the former head of the International
Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), who returned to Egypt in 2010. In
June 2010, activists, led by Wael Ghonim, a Google executive,
created a Facebook page called Kullena Khaled Said (“We are all
Khaled Said”) in memory of a young man whose cell phone
contained images of political brutality and drug use and was beaten
to death on June 6, 2010, by two secret police officers in Alexandria.
is page aracted more than one million supporters and became
the focal point for a number of large protests against state abuses in
the summer of 2010. Ghonim, Abdel Rahman Mansour, and many of
435
their colleagues brought the Khaled Said case into the public
consciousness by organizing several “Silent Stands” on June 18 and
25, and July 9, 2010, mainly organized at the cornie in Cairo and
Alexandria by online activists, while also posting on the Kullena
Khaled Said Facebook page. ese online activists, as well as many
bloggers, brought out more than eight thousand people on June 25,
2010, when ElBaradei, who at the time was running as a presidential
candidate, took part. It was evident that the fear barrier was broken
and virtual activism had been transferred into real-world action.11
Solidarity with the Khaled Said cause transcended national
borders, as groups from Tunisia and Yemen began creating Facebook
pages in support of Egyptian online activists. Khaled’s Tunisian
Facebook page drew over one thousand members within two days of
its laun.12 e triggering event for the 2011 uprisings in Egypt
happened some 1,300 miles away in Tunisia, when Mohammad
Bouazizi—a street fruit vendor whose cart was confiscated by the
police—set himself on fire in protest on December 17, 2010. He died
on January 4, and shortly thereaer on January 14 Tunisian
President Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia.13 What happened in Tunisia
encouraged and enabled Egyptians to follow suit. Wael Ghonim took
the Egyptians to task by posting on the Kullena Khaled Said
Facebook page on January 14, 2011, the following message: “Today is
the 14th … January 25 is Police Day and it’s a national holiday … If
100,000 take to the streets, no one can stop us … I wonder if we can?”
14
e interaction of organized groups, networks, and social media
was crystallized in nonviolent anti-Mubarak protests that removed
the long-reigning autocrat from power on February 11, 2011. ese
protests, some experts contend, showed that Egyptian society, mu
like Western societies, has transformed away from traditional
organizations and media—su as TV, radio, and newspapers—and
toward more loosely structured “networked societies,” where there is
less group control and more individual autonomy.15 ere is no
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denying that social media provided affordable access to social
movements by reducing the costs of mobilization and organization,
while accelerating the dissemination of information. Young men and
women in Egypt were able to use social networks, the Internet, and
mobile phones “to access large and diversified networks, rea
beyond physical and social boundaries, and exploit more resources
to potentially bring about social ange.”16 Yet it is important to be
aware of the euphoria about social networking. e fact remains that
Twier alone is unlikely to generate successful uprisings. While new
media tools have a catalytic role, as experts remind us, it is the
symbiosis between off-line activity on the ground and online
activism that is critical to how protests aieve their goals.17
In the cases of Iran and Egypt, the governments resorted to
Internet cradowns, shuing down Internet and cell phone
communications, before starting a violent cradown against
protesters. According to one source, a U.S. company—Boeing-owned
Narus of Sunnyvale, California—had sold Egypt [Telecom Egypt, the
state-run Internet service provider] ‘Deep Paet Inspection’ (DPI)
equipment that could have been used to help the Mubarak’s regime
tra, target, and crush political dissent over the Internet and mobile
phones. e same company is selling this spying tenology to other
regimes with lamentable human rights records. Before DPI becomes
more widely used, both abroad and at home, the U.S. government
must establish transparent and legitimate guidelines for preventing
the use of su surveillance and control tenology.18
New forms of Internet-based activism proved to be a central factor
leading to the ouster of President Morsi. Tamarod—or the ‘revolt’
movement—used all tools of grassroots mobilization, including the
Internet, formal media, and the street protests, to collect signatures
demanding Morsi’s resignation. Created by the members of Kefaya,
nearly 22 million signatures were collected in a maer of weeks. is
widespread campaign became a catalyst for the 2013 protests that
culminated in Morsi’s ouster by a military coup.19
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Demographics of protests
Many factors have contributed to the uprisings throughout the
world, from Latin America to Europe, and from the Middle East and
North Africa to Asia. ese factors include, but are not limited to,
high unemployment rates, la of basic freedoms, poor governance,
absence of food security, and falling real wages. e problem of the
demographic youth bulge and unemployment has put enormous
pressure on the region’s education and health care systems, natural
resources, and labor markets. Ultimately, however, the greatest strain
is in the labor market, as in some cases, like Egypt, it takes five years
before 75 percent of all university graduates obtain work.20 On
balance, however, Tunisians are beer educated and more urbanized
than their neighbors. With 7.2 percent of their GDP spent on
education, Tunisians are steadily ranked among the most
modernized countries in the Middle East and North Africa. In
contrast, Algeria spends 4.3 percent of its GDP on education, Egypt
at 3.8 percent, Libya at 2.7 percent, Jordan at 4.9 percent, and Yemen
at 5.2 percent.21
e fact remains that, like Iran, Tunisia has become a middle-class
society imbued with rising expectations and demands for political
freedoms. e façade of stability in these countries is misleading and
the preservation of the status quo ante is no longer sustainable as
long as their citizens cannot freely express their economic and
political grievances. In Iran, the youth movement, also known as the
‘Green Movement,’ emerged during the disputed 2009 presidential
elections. It initially shook the foundations of the Islamic Republic
but was subsequently squashed by the regime. One of the most
dramatic aspects of the Green Movement was the split within the
Islamic Republic. One observer aptly captured this development:
438
“Iran suffered political fissures in 2009 precisely because the
establishment (and most anyone in the opposition could be
considered a part of the establishment) has split so openly, not
because dissidents had burst onto the scene.”22
e ‘Green Movement’ was also indicative of larger problems
with whi young Iranians were struggling. One study demonstrates
that four major problems contributed to deep frustration and
political dissent: (1) unemployment, (2) independence, (3) sexual
crisis, and (4) drugs. Because of the large numbers of unemployed,
especially among college graduates, according to the International
Monetary Fund, Iran has experienced one of the world’s highest
rates of brain drain.23 Almost three-quarters of Iranians in their
twenties still live with their parents, partly because they cannot
afford to live on their own. Social interaction among young males
and females who are not married is formally prohibited. Su stiff
restrictions have resulted in an underground social culture, whi
has led to widespread promiscuity, despite stiff penalties. Alongside
this illicit social culture, the use of narcotics has become a serious
problem among youth.24
A qui glance at the demographics behind the resurgence of
Iran’s Green Movement in 2009 explains why educated young
women were at the forefront of this reformist movement. In the
1970s, toward the end of the Pahlavi monary, nearly 5 percent of
college-age youth went to college. By 2009, the figure had reaed 31
percent.25 e girls outnumbered boys in secondary sools (1996),
primary sools (1999), and higher education (2001).26
e women’s participation in both Iran’s Green Movement and
the broader Arab uprisings should, therefore, come as no surprise,
even as throughout the MENA region, as experts find, women’s
organizations have historically remained relatively weak owing to
state restrictions on their activities in civil society. Yet, across North
Africa, variations in gender relations, women’s legal status, and
women’s collective action before the 2011 uprisings, as well as the
439
nature of the transitions and sociopolitical forces involved, help to
account for the divergent outcomes. e women’s rights movements
in Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia, for example, have had an
advantageous position over those in Egypt and Libya in terms of the
composite measure of women’s legal status, women’s organizations,
and the institutional legacy of the previous regime. In Morocco,
thanks to the activities of I`Union de I`Action Feminine (UAF), the
family law was replaced in 2004 with a more egalitarian set of laws
and norms for marital life and family affairs. In 2007, the Nationality
Code gave women and men equal rights to transfer nationality to
their ildren.27
Although both men and women were equally active in the 2011
uprisings in Egypt, the absence of an organized democratic protest
movement and the impotence of the secular political parties allowed
the Muslim Brotherhood and military to assume control. e dra
constitution approved by the country’s first Constituent Assembly
proved woefully inadequate to protect women’s rights and the rights
of religious minorities, for it restricted freedom of expression in the
name of protecting religion; it allowed for the military trial of
civilians, and it blatantly failed to protect the rights of ildren,
especially those of young girls, who are subjected to early
marriage.28
440
e unemployment crisis
A combination of a suffocating political climate and rising
unemployment rates in the aermath of these uprisings have caused
great concerns and disillusionment on the part of youth, who see
lile or no hope for the future.29 In the wake of recent and rapidly
unfolding economic pressures, massive brain drain is all but
inevitable in the region. One study showed that an astounding 26
percent of young people, aged 15 to 29, across the MENA region
have expressed the desire to migrate and leave the Middle East in
sear of beer educational and career opportunities.30
e unemployment rates throughout the MENA region are
depressingly high. Youth unemployment rates for 2011 were
noticeably high in Tunisia (42.3 percent), Palestine (35.7 percent),
and Egypt (29.7 percent).31 Having successfully won the right to free
and fair elections, young people still could not earn a decent living
or start a family. ey have become disillusioned with the long-term
results of the Arab uprisings.32 is explains why in a country like
Tunisia, where positive moves toward democracy have enabled
young people to express their dissident views, uncertainty, and
mistrust have led a disgruntled minority to embrace the Islamic State
in Iraq and Syria (ISIS). According to one report, nearly three
thousand Tunisians have traveled to Syria and Iraq to join the
group.33
e region’s high youth unemployment rates, coupled with poor
economic conditions and local job prospects, discrimination, and
insufficient investment in work-related skills, as well as exclusive
access to tertiary education, have le many young people with mu
dismay and distrust in their political systems’ ability to grow.34
Today, in the MENA region, two-thirds of the population is under
441
eighteen. is part of the population faces one of the highest
unemployment rates in the world, as the region ranks among the
worst for youth unemployment,35 approximately 30 percent, high
population growth, and poor education.36
It would be far too facile to conclude, however, that the 2011 Arab
upheavals were caused simply by the youth bulge. Rather, a
combination of bleak employment prospects, elitist power structures,
and repression contributed to revolutionary upheavals.37 is
explains why youth demands during the Arab Spring were
encapsulated in four concepts: ange, bread, liberty, and social
justice—aspirations largely based on secular motivations. It is
important to remember that these uprisings were driven just as
equally by causes relating to economic justice and security as by the
demands for liberty. Despite the fact that the prevailing mantra in
Tahrir Square was Hiya thawrat karama (“is is a revolution of
honor and dignity”), the underlying socioeconomic causes were
decades in the making and led young protesters to take to the streets
to express and demonstrate their anger and frustration.
Just as the secular orientation of these demands called for a fresh
need to scrutinize the failure of regimes in power, so did the all-too
familiar language of human rights and personal dignity that stood at
the heart of newfound desires of the youth population. In Tunisia,
Ben Ali was forced to flee the country as his youthful population
staged huge demonstrations with new and old modes of
communication to topple his regime. Likewise, in Egypt, the vibrant
April 6th Youth Movement played a significant role in utilizing
social media and the Internet to mobilize the opposition against the
Mubarak rule. is group, however, was quily sidelined by the
military, whi accused the Youth Movement’s members of taking
U.S. funding.38
Across the region, young people face similar pressures and
restraints on their life prospects, aspirations, and living conditions.
Today, the Middle East is home to a large number of young people
442
who are more educated and plugged into social media than ever but
la the economic opportunities and possibilities for social mobility
that older generations enjoyed.39 A key pressure point in the
controversy over democratic reforms in the Middle East today is that
many leaders still show an obstinate refusal to admit the necessity
for socioeconomic ange. e fact remains that political reforms are
unlikely to be sustained over time if they are not shored up by social
and economic development. With absent policies to tale structural
problems that cause inequality, exclusion, and disempowerment, the
future of democratic reforms remains problematic.
443
Cyber-activism
e development of new digital tenologies, especially online social
networking, has enhanced the level of youth participation in
cyberspace in a wide variety of ways, including access to
information and participation in informal and formal groups.40
Marked by the elements of anonymity, speed, wider rea, and
connectivity, these new tenologies have become the most effective
tools of organizing and instigating uprisings, making the sear or
the need for a populist leader unnecessary and making mass
mobilization and protest possible.41 ese elements have enhanced
young people’s capacity to effectively engage and participate in
mobilizing civic movements as well as to advocate for human rights
and social ange. For the region’s many young people, especially
females, Information and Communication Tenologies (ICTs) and
social networking tenology are enabling tools.
By prompting interactivity and participation, where one becomes
not only consumer but also creator of online content, and where
sharing ideas and exanging feedba becomes the norm, these new
digital tenologies enable youth to redefine paerns of
participation, civil involvement, and self-expression.42 Access to new
media has transformed communications throughout the Middle East
and North Africa region and, together with the emergence of a wide
variety of new satellite television annels (e.g. al-Jazeera and al-
Arabia), is likely to help its citizens form public discourse around
notions of accountability, justice, and freedom.43 is has led to the
emergence of a new political culture informed by modern ideas,
ideals, and values, oen known as “tenological citizenship.” is
form of citizenship emphasizes inclusive rights of an individual as a
“citizen” of social justice and pursuit of modern global norms as
444
opposed to those of exclusive prerogatives su as sectarian and
ethnic identities.
e year 2011 began with the social media–driven uprisings and
protests in the Middle East and North Africa, toppling the two
regimes of Tunisia’s Zine El Abidine Ben Ali and Egypt’s Hosni
Mubarak that had seemed firmly entrened. is peaceful
democratic ange has posed the most formidable allenge to the
rule of autocrats and monars throughout the region. By way of
comparison, as one observer writes, these peaceful revolutions were
reminiscent of popular uprisings 162 years earlier that began in
Sicily and France. e revolutions of 1848 keenly resemble, in mood,
recent developments in the MENA region. e badrop then, as
now, was a recession and rising food prices. e monaries—araic
and resistant to ange—were allenged by the young. Mass
newspapers at the time connected the crowds. e difference
between those movements and today’s is that while the old regimes
subsequently reconstituted themselves, these new waves of ange
in the MENA region seem irreversible.44 Especially in authoritarian
regimes, where freedom of expression and assembly are non-
existent, a combination of the demographic youth bulge and new
tenological resources and digital social networks on the Internet—
Twier, YouTube, Facebook, and other tools of communication—has
created new dynamics of ange in the region, making it possible for
the virtual and actual participation of people in the affairs of their
communities.
e digital world has drastically altered the face of the Middle
East and North Africa. Social networks have practically replaced the
old public sphere, occupied by the traditional meeting places su as
suq (bazaar or marketplace) and mosques, where the general public
used to gather for the exange of ideas and social intermingling, as
well as for many other types of interactions. As modernizing and
globalizing forces allenge traditional identities, experts note,
newer forms of identities based on individual oice and
445
accountability arise. Increasingly, young people view their own
decisions as a oice rather than an unmitigated force imposed by
cultural traditions and social norms.45
With few exceptions, teen life in the MENA region is generally
aracterized as informed by cultural impulses from many different
directions. Turkish teens hold onto old beliefs, values, and cultural
traditions while also vividly exposed to new tenology, Western
ideas, and anging social norms.46 Increasingly, throughout the
region, especially in the case of Iran, young people have become
more pragmatic, more autonomous, less conformist, and more
conscious of the outside broader global community.47
More and more young people in the MENA region have come to
express their opposition to the repressive regimes under whi they
have lived through the larger strategies of nonviolence, non-
cooperation, and civil disobedience. A survey in Egypt conducted in
2009 demonstrated that 75 percent of the young Egyptians
considered “protecting freedom of spee” as an important issue to
them.48 In the same study, 63 percent of the youth regarded
“protecting political rights” as amongst their key demands. Contrary
to the widely held view that Arab youths are oen raised in an
environment of religious radicalism and anti-Americanism and that
these values thus have “become the formative elements of a new and
dispossessed generation,” in reality, these protests have illustrated
that young people “were a big part of the silent, moderate majority.”
49
446
e April 6 Youth Movement
As noted above, the roots of social media–driven uprisings can be
traced ba to the Kefaya movement that was in solidarity with
textile workers who were planning a strike on April 6, 2008. Hence
the origin of the name: ‘April 6 Youth Movement,’ whi referred to
a loose coalition of many groups of activists, opposition parties,
lawyers, professors, and student protesters. In 2008, workers at Al-
Mahalla Textiles in the Egyptian city of Mahalla called a strike on
April 6. Although no major protests ensued, two activist workers
were killed, and the city became, albeit briefly, a site of violent
confrontation between workers and security forces.50
Ahmed Maher, 30, gained prominence in 2008 as one of the co-
founders of this movement—a solidarity group launed to support
protests. Organizing mostly online, especially on Facebook, it was a
decentralized network of activists who used the tools of social media
to broadcast economic and political grievances against the Mubarak
regime, mobilize support, evade the government’s ubiquitous
security forces, and, later, help bring down the Mubarak regime.
Ahmed Maher and Ahmed Salah, young members of the Kefaya
opposition group, braned off and helped laun a Facebook group
to promote a protest planned for April 6, 2008.51 e movement
aracted 70,000 members on Facebook, making it the largest youth
movement in Egypt at the time.52
Given the limits of social networking as a tool of democratic
revolution, leaders of the “April 6 Youth Movement” sought to study
and learn from both post-communist democratic ange in Eastern
Europe and NGOs in the West. In the summer of 2009, Mohamed
Adel, a 20-year-old blogger and April 6 activist, traveled from Egypt
to Belgrade, Serbia, where he received training at the Center for
447
Applied NonViolent Action and Strategies (CANVAS)—an
organization that was vociferously involved in the mass mobilization
against Slobodan Milošević in the late 1990s. CANVAS helped Adel
to figure out how to turn a cynical, passive, and fearful public into
activists.53 By aending several workshops, Adel learned how to use
new media and tenology to galvanize and mobilize a large-scale,
nonviolent revolutionary effort by stressing unity, seing clear goals,
and keeping members engaged.54
In early 2010, Bassem Samir, the 28-year-old director of the
Egyptian Democratic Academy, led a small delegation to the United
States for media training. A U.S.-based NGO, with funding from the
State Department, oversaw training sessions led by digital journalists
from Time magazine and documentary filmmakers affiliated with
human rights organization Witness, in whi the Egyptian activists
were taught camera operation and ways of using effective online
videos.55 During the 2011 uprisings, Samir used his office for the
purposes of feeding images taken by the activists on the ground to
the international media. e way these young activists used new-
media tools and methods proved crucial in fanning the flames of
protest into the streets during those 18 days of uprisings (January 25
–February 11, 2011), where it was then propelled by people who
were not particularly familiar with su social networking sites as
Facebook and Twier. 56
448
Arab hip-hop culture
Arab hip-hop culture and its relevance to the 2011 Arab uprisings is
key to understanding newly emerging identities among the Arab
youth.57 A new generation of Muslim playwrights and filmmakers
has turned protest into an art form, proving that the pen is more
potent than the suicide bomb.58 As in the rest of the world, hip-hop
culture in the Muslim world, represented by rap music and
popularized by public graffiti, has come to mobilize the youth’s
defiance against their governments and create a sense of solidarity—
both inside their country and across the border—with those defying
the status quo. Rap music has become a tool for venting
longstanding and pent-up frustrations and grievances as people
throughout the Arab world have sought to redefine their relationship
with the state and their rights as citizens. Increasingly, hip-hop songs
have become anthems of protests and rebellion against autocrats and
extremists across the Arab world. Just as rap initially provided an
alternative to gang violence for young blas in the Bronx (New
York City), as Robin Wright has observed, hip-hop culture has
offered an alternative to suicide bombs and Molotov cotails among
Palestinians.59
Likewise, the lyrics of rappers have linked feelings and
frustrations of diasporic communities with their homelands. One
observer notes that
It has been hip-hop that has become the most iconic and widespread soundtra of the
Arab Spring and, interestingly, it is having the double effect of helping to mobilize
activists in the countries directly impacted by the pro-democracy movements while also
solidifying links between Arab diasporic communities in the West with those still
residing in the homeland.60
449
is dynamic became apparent with the popularity of protest songs
by Chicago-based artist Khaled M. Libyan. By birth, Khaled M. is the
son of a Libyan dissident whose father was tortured and jailed under
the Qaddafi regime. Khaled’s father died when he was nine. Aer
protests broke out in Libya on February 17, 2011, Khaled M. released
the haunting single “Can’t Take Our Freedom,” whi reads like an
open leer to both Qaddafi and the people of the MENA region:
Can’t take our freedom and take our soul/can’t take our freedom, take our soul/you are
not the one that’s in control/you are not the one that’s in control/lā ilāha illallāh, there
is no power greater than God/go ahead and divide your plans/at the end of the day you
are just a man.61
e song powerfully employs the shahada and a common humanity
to decapitate the Qaddafi regime while encouraging protesters from
all over the Arab world to rise up against oppression. It also points to
a strengthening of familial, political, and identity ties and interests
between diasporic Arabs who have long lived abroad and younger
generations who may have never visited the countries their parents
originally migrated from. is sense of connectedness, renewed by
the song “Can’t Take Our Freedom,” has prompted a collaboration of
sorts between diasporic communities in the rewriting of history with
those who never le the country of origin but nevertheless felt
disenanted and dispossessed by the repressive regimes under
whi they lived. Khaled’s story, as a multilingual Libyan-American
with a dual identity and global popularity, demonstrates that the
Arab Spring has become a multifaceted, globalized movement
transcending the MENA region.62
Similarly, a young Tunisian rapper—known as El General, whose
real name is Hamada Ben Amor—posted a song on his Facebook
page and YouTube annel. e song was entitled “Rais Lebled”
meaning “President of the Country.” It expressed through music a
youth culture of defiance and outrage against prevailing
socioeconomic ills, including unemployment, poverty, and social
450
injustice in Tunisia, placing the blame squarely on the Tunisian
government. El General’s video was pied up by Al Jazeera aer
whi it went viral. e lyrics of this song quily and forcefully
resonated with many young people who lived under the repressive
regime of Ben Ali for so long.63
is song had a transformative influence, as it set the stage for the
‘Jasmine Revolution’ that broke out subsequently. It did what many
Tunisians dared not do: speak out.64 Western media labeled su
peaceful democratic uprisings throughout the region as the Jasmine
Revolution in keeping with the geopolitical nomenclature of “color
revolutions” that had transpired in Georgia and Ukraine in the
previous years. What singled out the uprisings in Tunisia, however,
was that Mohammad Bouazizi’s self-immolation on December 17,
2010, together with the powerful lyrics of the young rapper El
General, became two symbols that, in Wright’s words, “had
transformed political activism in Tunisia—and in turn the entire
Arab world.”65
In Yemen, Hagage “AJ” Masaed, known as the godfather of
Yemeni hip-hop, places a high value on hip-hop music, arguing that
it can be “a tool to effect social ange.” One of the bales he has
taken on is education and trying to keep young Yemenis in sool.
“Youth listen to me. I’m puing out positive messages in hip-hop
form. ey like what I’m doing and I’m flipping it in Arabic and in
English,” said Masaed. “e sools, the tools/You have to believe/If
we live, learn, love/Defeat enemies,” are a few of the lines from his
song “Biladee” (in English, “My Country”) whi advocates for
education to combat terrorism. It continues, “too many followers we
need more leaders to lead … so no terrorists please.”66
Palestinian hip-hop rappers, su as Tamer Nafar, have expressed
their rage with a microphone—not a weapon—and have repeatedly
condemned extremism and violence by both Israelis and
Palestinians, even as their songs have contextualized the civil
disobedience and suicide bombings of the 1987 and 2000 intifada
451
uprisings, respectively. For a new generation of Palestinians, hip-hop
has filled a social and communications void, capturing the popular
sentiment that has largely turned against violence and jihadists.67
452
Conclusion
Nearly five years aer the Arab Spring, the people’s hope for
democratic reforms in the Arab world has been all but shaered. e
frustrations experienced by young educated people who have been
unable to fulfill their aspirations in societies that have laed the
capacity to accommodate them continue in the aermath of the
uprisings. e increasing acceleration of tenology has noticeably
allowed disenfranised groups the ability to find a voice. While the
MENA region has anged, in some cases for the beer, it is not
clear where the broader trajectory of the region is going. e Arab
Spring revolts have become “a strange mixture of revolution,
counterrevolution and foreign intervention.”68 In su a context,
counterrevolution may prove as difficult to solidify as revolution
itself.69
Young men and women, who spearheaded massive peaceful
demonstrations in 2011, are still eager to talk about new politics.70
With the exception of Tunisia, a reversion to the repressive tactics of
the past and heavy-handed policies enacted by the military-led
Egyptian government, coupled with the continuing political tensions
in Yemen, Bahrain, Libya, and Syria, have all cast their dark
shadows over the optimistic view that only recently engulfed the
region. e phrase “demography is destiny” may be an old adage
and somewhat overstated, but demographic realities cannot be
ignored.
ese young people are not driven by religious beliefs, but instead
are determined to confront the underlying structural conditions of
their society that leave them with lile hope of improvement.
According to one report, although Tunisia’s steps toward democracy
have enabled young people to express their dissident views,
453
impatience with and skepticism regarding the prospect for
employment opportunities have evidently led a disappointed
minority to join the insurgent Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS).
Tunisian officials have said that at least 2,400 Tunisians have
traveled to Syria and Iraq to join the group.71
Unless the Arab world’s leaders put in place effective economic
policies addressing structural problems that their countries face,
their bankrupt politics are certain to lead to more instability. e
pressure cooker of Arab societies, whi most recently exploded
under economic insecurity and suffocating repression, has been
defused for the time being, but is unlikely to prevent steam from
flaring up in coming years.
454
Notes
1 Vlerie Bunce, “Rebellious Citizens and Resilient Authoritarians,” in Fawaz A. Gerges, ed.,
The New Middle East: Protest and Revolution in the Arab World, New York: Cambridge
University Press, 2014, pp. 446–68; see p. 451.
2 James L. Gelvin, The Arab Uprisings: What Everyone Needs to Know, New York: Oxford
University Press, 2012, p. 48.
3 Marc Lyn, The Arab Uprising: The Unfinished Revolutions of the New Middle East,
New York: Public Affairs, 2012, p. 78.
4 Melani Camme, Ishac Diwan, Alan Riards, and John Waterbury, Fourth Edition, A
Political Economy of the Middle East, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2015, p. 427.
5 Miael Hoffman and Amaney Jamal, “Political Aitudes of Youth Cohorts,” in Marc
Lyn, ed., The Arab Uprisings Explained: New Contentious Politics in the Middle East,
New York: Columbia University Press, 2014, pp. 273–95; see p. 275.
6 I have drawn several arguments of this apter from my work elsewhere, Democratic
Uprisings in the New Middle East: Youth, Technology, Human Rights, and US Foreign
Policy, Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2014.
7 Camme, Diwan, Riards, and Waterbury, op. cit., p. 429.
8 Marc Lyn, “Media, Old and New,” in Marc Lyn, ed., The Arab Uprisings Explained:
New Contentious Politics in the Middle East, New York: Columbia University Press,
2014, pp. 93–109; see p. 94.
9 Ibid., p. 94.
10 Ibid., pp. 17–19.
11 Wael Ghonim Wael, Revolution 2.0: The Power of People Is Greater than the People in
Power: A Memoir, Boston: Houghton Miffline Harcourt, 2012, p. 80.
12 Ibid, p. 85.
455
13 Dina Shebata, “e Fall of the Pharaoh: How Hosni Mubarak’s Reign Came to an End,”
Foreign Affairs, vol. 90, no. 3, (2011), pp. 26–32; see p. 29.
14 Wael Ghonim, op. cit., p. 134.
15 Xiaolin Zhuo, Barry Wellman, and Justine Yu, “Egypt: e first Internet Revolt?”
available at hp://peacemagazine.org/arive/v27n3p06.htm. Accessed on July 13, 2011.
16 Ibid.
17 Jina Morre, “e Revolution Will be Blogged,” The Christian Science Monitor, July 4,
2011, pp. 26–31; see especially p. 28.
18 David DeGraw, “Analysis of the Global Insurrection Against Neo-Liberal Economic
Domination and the Coming American Rebellion–We Are Egypt [Revolution
Roundup#3],” available at hp://daviddegraw.org/2011/03/analysis-of-the-global-
insurrection-against-neo-liberal-economic-domination-and-the-coming-american-
rebellion-we-are-egypt-revolution-roundup-3/. Accessed on June 27, 2011.
19 Melani Camme, Ishac Diwan, Alan Riards, and John Waterbury, op. cit., p. 428.
20 Edward Sayre and Samantha Constant, op. cit.
21 Kristen Chi, “Why Tunisia? Why Now?” The Christian Science Monitor, January 31,
2011, pp. 8–10; see especially p. 10.
22 Hooman Majd, The Ayatollahs’ Democracy: An Iranian Challenge, New York: W. W.
Norton & Co., 2010, pp. 59–60.
23 Omid Memarian and Tara Nesvaderani, “Iran’s Youth: Agents of Change,” United States
Institute of Peace, Peacebrief 51, September 9, 2010, available at
hp://permanent.access.gpo.gov/gpo34803/Iran%20Youth . Accessed on July 1, 2015.
24 Ibid.
25 Charles Kurzman, “Cultural Jiu-Jitsu and the Iranian Greens,” in Nader Hashemi and
Danny Postel, eds, The People Reloaded: The Green Movement and the Struggle for
Iran’s Future, Brooklyn, NY: Melville House, 2010, pp. 7–17; see especially p. 8.
26 Ibid., p. 8.
27 Valentine M. Moghadam, “Democratization and Women’s Political Leadership in North
Africa,” Journal of International Affairs vol. 68, no. 1, (2014), 59–78; see pp. 61–4.
456
28 Ibid., p. 69.
29 e discussions in this section are based on Mahmood Monshipouri, “Tahrir’s Legacy:
Opportunities and Hazards for the Future of Youth Movements in the Middle East,”
Georgetown Journal of International Affairs, December 1, 2014. Available at
hp://journal.georgetown.edu/tahrirs-legacy-opportunities-and-hazards-for-the-future-
of-youth-movements-in-the-middle-east/. Accessed on September 4, 2016.
30 See www.silate.com/docs/silate-index/silate-index-january-2010 ?sfvrsn=20.
Accessed on September 4, 2016.
31 Marilena Stoenescu, “Youth statistics – North Africa and Eastern Mediterranean,”
European Commission: Eurostat, October, 2014. Available at
hp://epp.eurostat.ec.europa.eu/statistics_explained/index.php/Youth_statistics_-
_North_Africa_and_Eastern_Mediterranean. Accessed on November 8, 2014.
32 M. Chloe Mulderig, “An Uncertain Future: Youth Frustration and the Arab Spring,”
Boston University, e Papers/No. 16, April 2013, pp. 1–33; see p. 24. Available at
www.bu.edu/pardee/files/2013/04/Pardee-Paper-16 ?PDF=pardee-papers-16-arab-
spring. Accessed on November 7, 2014.
33 David D. Kirkpatri, “New Freedoms in Tunisia Drive Support for ISIS,” The New York
Times, October 22, 2014, pp. A1 and A8; see especially p. A8.
34 Yara al-Wazir, “Brian Drain: Why a arter of Young Arabs Want to Leave eir
Countries,” Al-Arabia News: Middle East, April 25, 2014. Available at
hp://english.alarabiya.net/en/views/news/middle-east/2014/04/25/Brain-Drain-why-a-
quarter-of-young-Arabs-want-to-leave-their-countries.html. Accessed on November 7,
2014.
35 See: www.makingitmagazine.net/?p=6094. Accessed on September 4, 2016.
36 Mahmood Monshipouri, Democratic Uprisings in the New Middle East: Youth,
Technology, Human Rights, and US Foreign Policy, Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers,
2014, p. 27.
37 Juan Cole, The New Arabs: How the Millennial Generation is Changing the Middle East,
New York: Simon & Suster, 2014, p. 26.
457
38 Mar Lyn, The Arab Uprisings: The Unfinished Revolutions of the New Middle East,
New York: Pacific Affairs, 2012, p. 134.
39 Melani Camme, Ishac Diwan, Alan Riards, and John Waterbury, Fourth Edition, A
Political Economy of the Middle East, Boulder, CO: Westview Press, 2015, p. 425.
40 Mahmood Monshipouri, Democratic Uprisings in the New Middle East: Youth,
Technology, Human Rights, and US Foreign Policy, Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers,
2014, pp. 58–9.
41 Wael Ghonim, Revolution 2.0, op. cit., p. 59.
42 Council of Europe, “Training Course: New Media in Youth Work,” European Youth
Center, Strasbrug, Budapest, July 5, 2011, DJS/TC Media (2011) 1.
43 Pamela Ann Smith and Peter Feuilherade, “Now, the Media Revolution,” The Middle
East, Issue 427, November 21, 2011, pp. 35–8; see p. 38.
44 Fareed Zakaria, “Why It’s Different is Time,” Time, February 28, 2011, pp. 30–1; see
especially p. 31.
45 Ali Akbar Mahdi, “Introduction: Teens, Islam, and the Middle East,” in Ali Akbar Mahdi,
ed., Teen Life in the Middle East, Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2003, pp. 1–12; see
especially p. 9.
46 Meral Kaya, “Turkey,” in Ali Akbar Mahdi, “Introduction: Teens, Islam, and the Middle
East,” in Ali Akbar Mahdi, ed., Teen Life in the Middle East, Westport, CT: Greenwood
Press, 2003, pp. 209–28; see especially p. 226.
47 Malihe Maghazei, “Iran,” in Ali Akbar Mahdi, “Introduction: Teens, Islam, and the
Middle East,” in Ali Akbar Mahdi, ed., Teen Life in the Middle East, Westport, CT:
Greenwood Press, 2003, pp. 13–32; see especially p. 29.
48 Farzaneh Roudi-Fahimi, Shereen El Feki, and Tyjen Tsai, “Youth Revolt in Egypt: A
Country at the Turning Point,” Population Reference Bureau. Available at
www.prb.org/Publications/Articles/2011/youth-egypt-revolt.aspx. Accessed on July 30,
2015.
49 Bobby Ghosh, “Rage, Rap, and Revolution,” Time, February 28, 2011, pp. 32–7; see
especially p. 34.
458
50 Wael Ghonim, Revolution 2.0, op. cit., p. 36.
51 David Wolman, “All Posts Tagged Ahmed Maher: Did Egypt Detain A Top Facebook
Activist?” Wired, February 2, 2011. Available at
www.wired.com/dangerroom/tag/ahmed-maher/. Accessed on June 21, 2001.
52 Dina Shebata, “e Fall of the Pharaoh: How Hosni Mubarak’s Reign Came to an End,”
Foreign Affairs, vol. 90, No. 3, May/June 2011, pp. 26–32; see especially p. 28.
53 Tina Rosenberg, “Revolution U,” in Marc Lyn, Susan B. Glasser, and Blake Hounshell,
eds, Revolution in the Arab World: Tunisia, Egypt, and the Unmaking of an Era,
Washington, D.C.: Foreign Policy, 2011, pp. 127–42; see especially pp. 127–9.
54 Ibid., p. 141.
55 Maryam Ishani, “e Hopeful Network,” in Marc Lyn, Susan B. Glasser, and Blake
Hounshell, eds, Revolution in the Arab World: Tunisia, Egypt, and the Unmaking of an
Era, Washington, D.C.: Foreign Policy, 2011, pp. 127–42; see especially pp. 143–8.
56 Ibid., p. 148.
57 e discussions in this section are based on Mahmood Monshipour, Democratic
Uprisings in the New Middle East: Youth, Technology, Human Rights, and US Foreign
Policy, Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2014.
58 Robin Wright, Rock the Casbah: Rage and Rebellion Across the Islamic World, New York:
Simon & Suster, 2012, p. 215.
59 Ibid., p. 127.
60 Lara Dotson Renta, “Hip-Hop & Diaspora: Connecting the Arab Spring,” Arab Media &
Society, Issue 13, Summer 2011. Available at www.arabmediasociety.com/?article=777.
Accessed on January 10, 2012.
61 Ibid.
62 Ibid.
63 Robin Wright, op. cit., p. 116.
64 Ibid., pp. 116–17.
65 Ibid., p. 118.
459
66 Rose Haman, “Hip-Hop the Soundtra of Arab Spring,” e dailynewsegypt.com,
January 12, 2012. Available at hp://thedailynewsegypt.com/music/hip-hop-the-
soundtra-of-the-arab-spring.html. Accessed on January 12, 2012.
67 Robin Wright, op. cit., pp. 128–32.
68 Patri Coburn, The Rise of Islamic State: ISIS and the New Sunni Revolution, London:
Verso, 2015, p. 132.
69 Ibid., p. 150.
70 Mahmood Monshipouri, “Tahrir’s Legacy: Opportunities and Hazards for the Future of
Youth Movements in the Middle East,” Georgetown Journal of International Affairs,
December 1, 2014. Available at hp://journal.georgetown.edu/tahrirs-legacy-
opportunities-and-hazards-for-the-future-of-youth-movements-in-the-middle-east/.
Accessed on September 4, 2016.
71 David D. Kirkpatri, “New Freedoms in Tunisia Drive Support for ISIS,” The New York
Times, October 21, 2014. Available at www.nytimes.com/2014/10/22/world/africa/new-
freedoms-in-tunisia-drive-support-for-isis.html?_r=0. Accessed on July 30, 2015.
460
Selected Bibliography
Coburn, Patri, The Rise of Islamic State: ISIS and the New Sunni
Revolution, London: Verso, 2015.
Cole, Juan, The New Arabs: How the Millennial Generation is
Changing the Middle East, New York: Simon & Suster, 2014.
Gelvin, James L., The Arab Uprisings: What Everyone Needs to
Know, New York: Oxford University Press, 2012.
Ghonim, Wael, Revolution 2.0: The Power of People Is Greater than
the People in Power: A Memoir, Boston: Houghton Miffline
Harcourt, 2012.
Ishani, Maryam, “e hopeful network,” in Marc Lyn, Susan B.
Glasser, and Blake Hounshell, eds, Revolution in the Arab World:
Tunisia, Egypt, and the Unmaking of an Era, Washington, D.C.:
Foreign Policy, 2011, pp. 127–42.
Kirkpatri, David D., “New freedoms in Tunisia drive support for
ISIS,” The New York Times, October 22, 2014, pp. A1 and A8.
Kurzman, Charles, “Cultural Jiu-Jitsu and the Iranian Greens,” in
Nader Hashemi and Danny Postel, eds, The People Reloaded: The
Green Movement and the Struggle for Iran’s Future, Brooklyn,
NY: Melville House, 2010, pp. 7–17.
Lyn, Marc, The Arab Uprising: The Unfinished Revolutions of the
New Middle East, New York: Public Affairs, 2012.
Mahdi, Ali Akbar, ed., Teen Life in the Middle East, Westport, CT:
Greenwood Press, 2003.
Majd, Hooman, The Ayatollahs’ Democracy: An Iranian Challenge,
New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2010.
Moghadam, Valentine M., “Democratization and women’s political
leadership in North Africa,” Journal of International Affairs vol.
68, no. 1 (2014), 59–78.
461
Monshipouri, Mahmood, Democratic Uprisings in the New Middle
East: Youth, Technology, Human Rights, and US Foreign Policy,
Boulder, CO: Paradigm Publishers, 2014.
Shebata, Dina, “e fall of the Pharaoh: How Hosni Mubarak’s reign
came to an end,” Foreign Affairs vol. 90, no. 3 (2011), 26–32.
Wright, Robin, Rock the Casbah: Rage and Rebellion Across the
Islamic World, New York: Simon & Suster, 2012.
462
14
Rights, Refugees, and the Case of
Syria
What do human rights offer?
Kathleen Hamill
Whether in camps or in urban areas, Syrian refugees in the region are steadily losing
hope and becoming more desperate each day. Access to food, shelter, education,
healthcare, and livelihoods are unreliable and uncertain. Abject poverty is becoming the
norm, and refugees are becoming prisoners of their own fate. What we need is for
refugees to be able to live and work in a decent environment. Children need to go to
school. We need hope and a plan for the future. Syrian refugees need to be able to realize
their human rights.
— Maha Kaaa, Syrian Refugee Response Coordinator, International Labor
Organization, October 20151
463
Introduction
e war in Syria has created one of the worst humanitarian and
refugee crises in recent history, with far-reaing consequences for
human security, economic development, public health, ild
protection, and sheer survival, both in the Middle East and beyond.2
By the end of 2015, over 6.5 million Syrians were internally
displaced, and more than 13.5 million people were in need of
humanitarian assistance inside Syria.3 e crisis has reverberated far
beyond Syria’s borders, impacting Europe, the Americas, and the
wider Middle East. Fierce debates continue to rage over host
countries’ refugee and immigration policies, as well as human rights
and humanitarian protections.
e refugee crisis has been most acute for Syria’s neighbors—
Lebanon, Jordan, and Turkey—where more than 90 percent of the
refugees have fled, but where international legal standards for
refugee protection do not necessarily apply to displaced Syrians.4 By
2016, nearly 4.2 million Syrians were seeking refuge in these three
countries; almost half a million Syrians had fled into Europe.5 Given
the prolonged nature of the crisis, the limits of humanitarian aid and
the prevailing conditions in neighboring countries, the vast majority
of Syrian refugees have not had adequate means or resources to
access appropriate education, shelter, food, healthcare, water or
sanitation in any long-term, sustainable way.
In this context, what do human rights offer: implementable
minimum standards and tangible protections, or just illusory
rhetoric? It is clear that human rights concerns are at stake, whether
Syrian refugees are seeking to cross national borders, sheltering
inside neighboring countries, or in transit ba to Syria or to another
country. is apter will argue that human rights remain largely
464
unfulfilled both for reasons of internal inconsistencies and for
reasons of national self-interest. Yet domestic and international
human rights commitments offer the most realistic path toward
taking into account the interests of states and Syrian refugees in
addressing an enormous humanitarian crisis that can no longer
simply be wished away.
465
Before entry: contested status, contested
legal frameworks
One of the vexing problems that has undergirded the refugee crisis is
that Syria’s closest neighbors had no applicable refugee and asylum
frameworks in place before 2011. is means they did not have
policies or procedures governing the entry, stay, and protection of
Syrian refugees and asylum seekers, instead reserving the right to
treat displaced Syrians as irregular or illegal migrants. As a result,
the terms ‘refugee’ and ‘asylum seeker’ have remained very mu
contested with respect to Syrians and their legal status in Jordan,
Lebanon, and Turkey. From the outset, neighboring governments did
not conceive of incoming Syrians as refugees per se. Instead, they
were guests, migrants, displaced civilians, or, eventually—in the case
of Turkey—persons under temporary protection. is reflected not
only the ongoing absence of applicable domestic refugee
frameworks, but also a set of misplaced assumptions that the conflict
would end quily and that Syrians would soon return home.
As in other situations of mass population movements, the influx
of Syrians into Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey has not fit neatly into
narrow legal categories especially given the la of applicable
refugee frameworks under domestic law. e accepted definition of a
refugee derives from the 1951 Refugee Convention. It encompasses
people fleeing from individualized persecution in their home
countries, or countries of habitual residence, on account of one of
five protected grounds: race, religion, nationality, political opinion,
or membership in a particular social group.6 As su, the 1951
Convention definition of a refugee neither explicitly includes
protection for civilians fleeing war——as is the case for many Syrians
466
—nor explicitly guarantees the right of entry or access to territory
across borders, even to people seeking refuge from persecution.7
is Convention definition is relevant because it provides an
authoritative point of reference and the baseline legal understanding
of a refugee under international law, regardless of whi states have
signed onto the Convention. e definition of a refugee, however,
has been interpreted more broadly by the United Nations Refugee
Agency (UNHCR) and by a number of states. As a result, the
application of the term ‘refugee’ has been disputed in the Syrian
context on multiple levels. Unlike the 1951 Convention refugee
definition, UNHCR has explicitly recognized war and violent conflict
as causal factors driving people to seek refugee status and protection
across borders.8 In neighboring countries, Lebanon, Jordan, and
Turkey, the U.N. Refugee Agency has extended blanket recognition
to displaced Syrians as refugees, doing so on a prima facie basis by
virtue of their nationality. It is important to note that neighboring
host governments have not officially registered displaced Syrians as
refugees under their domestic legal systems. Official UNHCR and
government positions have diverged on this maer, yet millions of
displaced Syrian civilians have sought protection and refuge in the
neighboring countries of Lebanon, Turkey and Jordan.
Key questions and debates
In response to the evolving situation and shiing refugee flows,
policy debates have emerged around contentious issues related to
protection, survival, development, and livelihood strategies for
Syrian refugees. ese debates have focused on appropriate
responses to the refugee crisis by governments, U.N. agencies, NGOs,
and refugees. Neighboring governments have had to make a series of
rapid judgment calls on myriad issues requiring short-and long-term
planning. ese government responses, in turn, have been informed
467
by competing interests and by conflicting interpretations of
applicable human rights standards. Among these have been
decisions about open-or closed-door policies, camps or no camps,
registration or no registration, integration or no integration, freedom
of movement or no freedom of movement, and access or no access to
public education, healthcare, and the formal labor market.
Likewise, U.N. agencies and NGOs have grappled with similar
questions and decisions. Should they defer to host governments on
controversial human rights issues or push ba against host
governments when human rights standards are compromised?
Should they provide short-term aid and longer-term development
assistance simultaneously. If so, then how? In addition, U.N. agencies
and NGOs have sought to assess the vulnerability of Syrian refugee
communities and individuals in order to ensure that local and
international humanitarian assistance reaes those who need it
most. ese agencies and organizations have engaged in continuous
dialogue about how to allocate limited resources in the most
effective, efficient, and sustainable ways. Yet there have been no easy
answers.
While host governments, U.N. agencies, and NGOs have debated
appropriate responses, refugees have remained at the center of the
crisis, le to make stark decisions about their own survival and the
well-being of their families and communities. ey have wondered
what the future will hold if they stay in host countries, return home
to Syria, or move somewhere else altogether. ey have weighed the
pros and cons of living inside or outside of refugee camps, and they
have asked themselves about the possibility of surviving on
humanitarian aid alone, or of working to supplement aid by seeking
employment in the formal or informal sectors. ey have pondered
the impact and financial trade-offs of their ildren aending sool
versus working to help support the family or geing married at a
young age.9 ese and countless other dilemmas have become
critical as so many lives have been upended and so mu human
468
insecurity and uncertainty has prevailed. Amid multifaceted and
intertwining debates about these questions, human rights standards
offer, if not a complete solution, a framework for thinking about
refugee protection and for individual agency, even as the responses
of governments, NGOs, U.N. agencies, and refugees remain
contested and inconsistent in practice.
Rights, reliance, and self-reliance
With their personal security and human rights severely
compromised, Syrian refugees have straddled an existential divide,
relying for survival on their own resilience and tenacity while also
relying on the promise of protection from U.N. agencies, foreign
governments, NGOs, relief organizations, and host communities.
One snapshot of two-year-old Alan Kurdi’s lifeless body washed up
on a Turkish bea in September 2015 was enough to show the uer
desperation of the Syrian refugee crisis to the world. With su grim
reality es, it has become obvious that Syrians cannot easily
realize their human rights. Syrians have not only suffered the
compounded impact of years of political upheaval, violence, and
persecution, they have also endured threats related to displacement,
la of access to basic necessities, and tenuous legal status oen
exacerbated by unmet requirements, insufficient documentation, and
expired permissions, leading to the prospect of detention,
deportation, and also death.
On paper, Syrian civilians seeking refuge in neighboring countries
have numerous human rights, beginning with the customary
international legal principle of non-refoulement, whi protects
refugees from being sent ba into situations where their lives or
freedom would be at risk whether through torture or otherwise.10
Beyond non-refoulement, numerous other protections are set forth in
multilateral treaties, domestic legislation, national constitutions, and
469
memoranda of understanding (MOUs) between host governments
and U.N. agencies.11 In addition, there are refugee-specific rights as
well as more general rights that apply to all human beings present
within a state’s jurisdiction, su as the right to education, to
freedom of movement, to work, and to an adequate standard of
living.
Refugees do not automatically have all of the same rights afforded
to citizens, su as the right to vote. Nevertheless, they can make
claims to human rights on the basis of human dignity, host country
commitments, and their physical presence within host state
jurisdiction.12 According to international law, the 1951 Refugee
Convention does not apply to Syrian refugees in Lebanon, Jordan,
and Turkey, but non-refoulement does apply. Also applicable to
displaced Syrians are the core U.N. human rights treaties, including
the Convention on the Rights of the Child, the Convention Against
Torture, the Convention on Civil and Political Rights, and the
Covenant on Social, Economic and Cultural Rights—all of whi
Syria’s neighbors have ratified. International labor law also offers
protection to Syrian refugees under the auspices of relevant
International Labor Organization (ILO) treaties su as the
Convention on the Worst Forms of Child Labor (ILO No. 182) and
the Convention on Minimum Age for Work (ILO No. 138).
At the national level, the legal guarantees—again, on paper—that
apply to displaced Syrians vary by country. Constitutional
provisions in host states, for example, make loy commitments to
respect the rights and dignity of nationals and non-nationals alike.13
MOUs, meanwhile, commit states to providing refugees with
protection in cooperation with UNHCR. Relevant domestic
legislation includes Turkey’s 2013 Law on Foreigners and
International Protection, Jordan’s 1973 Residency and Foreigners
Law, and Lebanon’s 1962 Law of Entry and Stay. But Syrians in
transit between different localities and countries confront legal and
practical barriers that have affected the realization of their rights.
470
Hence, the application of human rights standards to the predicament
of Syrian refugees has been riddled with ambiguity and complexity.
It is strikingly clear that refugees’ rights on paper have oen been
unfulfilled in practice. Before approaing more detailed questions of
application, however, it is expedient to examine several key policy
debates that have embroiled the rights of Syrian refugees.
Right to access territory
A core controversy over the appropriate policy response to the crisis
has related to access to territory. Do Syrians have the right to seek
refuge in neighboring countries on a short-term, long-term, or
permanent basis? Does it violate international law for neighboring
governments to blo them from entry and force them ba into
Syria? When displaced Syrians have managed to seek refuge across
borders, neighboring governments and host communities have
generally withheld official legal recognition of their status as
refugees. As a result, geographic location (in Lebanon, Turkey, or
Jordan) has been a significant factor in restricting the viability and
realization of their human rights. To what extent was Jordan’s
Minister of Labor, Dr. Nidal Katamine, correct when he said,
“Human rights should be based on needs and not on geographic
location”?14
e debate about this question within the international
community includes conflicting perspectives on the right to seek
asylum, authority over sovereign borders, and the principle of non-
refoulement. For the first several years of the refugee crisis, Syria’s
neighbors largely maintained open-door entry policies. However,
neighboring governments have since implemented inconsistent
policies, discriminating in particular against Palestinian refugees
from Syria.15 On one hand, officials have referred to their ‘open’ or
‘managed’ border policies. At the same time, neighboring
471
governments have restricted entry at official border crossings and
they have oen bloed Syrians’ access altogether,16 using physical
barriers, administrative roadblos, and the outright exclusion of
Palestinian refugees from Syria by the governments of Jordan and
Lebanon.17
Although the Universal Declaration of Human Rights sets out the
right of every person “to seek and to enjoy in other countries asylum
from persecution” (Article 14),18 this right actually has no
corresponding legal guarantees under international law for civilian
victims of war or persecution. For example, even the 1951 Refugee
Convention and its 1967 Protocol do “not impose any obligation to
allow refugees to enter and reside in the territory of a state party.”19
Lebanon and Jordan are not signatories to the treaty in any case, and
are not legally obliged by the 1951 Convention to open their doors to
Syrian refugees.20 Arguably, their open-door policies early in the
crisis reflected a combined sense of moral responsibility, self-interest,
and maer-of-fact convenience when the influx was still
manageable and violence had not yet reaed border areas. But
Turkish, Jordanian, and Lebanese border policies have shied
considerably since mid-2014, with doors increasingly closed due to
security concerns, limited resources, insufficient infrastructure to
support refugees, and the perception of adverse pressure on host
communities and local economies.21
Access to territory: the case of Lebanon
e Lebanese government implemented a new border policy with
stricter entry requirements for Syrians starting in 2015.22 As directed
by Lebanon’s Cabinet of Ministers, this entry policy required all
Syrians to provide clarification of their entry status and
documentation to prove it. ose wishing to enter Lebanon had to
demonstrate that they qualified for one of several categories, ranging
472
from tourism to authorized employment to urgent medical needs.
ere was no category, however, for refugee or asylum seeker, but
only for “displaced” Syrians who would be permied to cross the
border only in the very narrow exception of “extreme humanitarian”
cases.
Lebanon’s Ministry of Social Affairs retained the power to
personally review these exceptional and extreme humanitarian cases
on an ad hoc basis to determine compliance with one of the
government’s four entry criteria for displaced Syrians: (1)
unaccompanied or separated ildren under 16 years with parents or
legal guardians in Lebanon; (2) individuals with disabilities
dependent upon family or relatives in Lebanon; (3) individuals
needing life-saving medical treatment not available in Syria; and (4)
individuals pursuing reselement or transitioning through Lebanon
to a third country with proof of travel (e.g. airline tiets).23
Lebanon’s border policy led to sharp public disagreements
between the government and U.N. agencies about the right to seek
refuge on Lebanese territory and who should qualify for protection.
Prior to Lebanon’s tighter border regulations, UNHCR registered all
Syrians seeking protected refugee status on a prima facie basis as
part of a broad group designation.24 is meant that Syrians would
qualify as refugees with UNHCR without going through an
individual interview or refugee status determination procedure with
the government or with UNHCR. As part of Lebanon’s revised
border policy, as of 2015 Syrians were no longer eligible for UNHCR
registration on a prima facie basis. e government border policy
barred UNHCR from registering any incoming Syrians as refugees in
Lebanon, and it required any outgoing Syrians to automatically
forfeit their UNHCR refugee status. No longer would Syrians be
allowed to re-enter Lebanon under the auspices of their previous
UNHCR-recognized refugee status, although the Lebanese
government had never recognized displaced Syrians as refugees
under domestic law anyway. But the revised policy and
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corresponding border regulations marked a decisive effort to reduce
the overall number of Syrians in Lebanon and to bring cross border
transit of displaced Syrians to a halt. Presumably, those who faced
genuine risk in Syria, would not dare to cross ba and forth across
the border.
For those exceptional cases among the new arrivals from Syria,
the Lebanese government required UNHCR to petition the Minister
of Social Affairs for explicit approval to permit registration of
individual refugees on a case-by-case basis only. In April 2015, in
fact, Lebanon’s Minister of Social Affairs directed UNHCR to
deregister all Syrian refugees who had entered Lebanon aer
January 5, 2015 but before strict implementation of the new
regulations had begun, a move that affected 2,600 registered Syrian
refugees and their families.25 Lebanon’s new rules denied these
refugees UNHCR-registered status and also bloed access to
territory for Syrian refugees more broadly.26
Local NGOs, utilizing human rights arguments, also weighed in
on the debate about Lebanon’s border and entry policies. Beirut-
based FrontiersRuwad Association, for example, consistently
defended Syrian refugees and their right to seek asylum on the basis
of human rights norms. It faulted the government for rejecting
Syrian refugees and asylum seekers at the border and for denying
them entry or re-entry to Lebanon. Not surprisingly, FrontiersRuwad
opposed the Lebanese government’s position and articulated
objections in the NGO’s Mar 2015 Universal Periodic Review
stakeholder submission to the U.N. Human Rights Council.27 In this
submission, FrontiersRuwad decried fundamental human rights
violations of Syrian refugees and asylum seekers, “most notably their
right to seek asylum, and to liberty and security,” occurring in
Lebanon at the level of legislation, regulations, policies and
practices.28 FrontiersRuwad denounced the restrictive admission
criteria for Syrian nationals, calling on the Lebanese government to
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grant displaced Syrians legal residency status on the basis of their
valid UNHCR registration.
FrontiersRuwad cited the customary international legal norm of
non-refoulement obliging Lebanon not to force individuals ba into
Syria if their lives or freedom would be at risk. At a minimum,
FrontiersRuwad insisted that non-refoulement would require
Lebanon to allow Syrians to enter the country in order to seek refuge
from persecution. Meanwhile, this permission to enter would at least
allow the government or UNHCR to investigate whether individuals
fleeing Syria needed protection. However, Lebanon has largely
ignored this obligation since January 2015.
All of this has raised a host of human rights questions related to
the right of entry. Opinions diverge about whether Syrian refugees
have the legal right to enter and to remain in neighboring countries
in their flight from violence and persecution. Should displaced
Syrians have the unqualified right to seek and enjoy asylum, or do
sovereign states have absolute authority to restrict entry into their
own territory? is debate became increasingly vivid as Syrian
refugees pressed beyond neighboring countries and into Europe.
Although it is beyond the scope of this apter, the European
dimension to the Syrian refugee crisis also speaks to the ability of
refugees to take maers into their own hands and exercise their own
agency in an effort to claim their human rights by seeking asylum
outside of the region.
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Aer entry: respect for refugee rights
Policy debates also have revolved around treatment of displaced
Syrians once they enter neighboring countries. On many levels,
these debates have concerned access to the means for basic survival
and protection and the realization of subsistence rights su as
shelter, food, water, clothing, and sanitation. How and to what
extent should provisions be made available to refugees in order to
meet their basic needs? Debates also concern access to public
services, including education and healthcare, as well as access to the
courts and to social services su as ild protection systems. It is a
contested maer as to how refugees should avail themselves of these
rights in practice and what public services should be available to
them, at what cost, and by whom. In addition, host governments,
U.N. agencies and NGOs have varying approaes to the provision of
humanitarian aid and services, whether in the form of in-kind
benefits, vouers, cash assistance, or self-reliance. ese approaes
inevitably have significant impacts on the realization of refugees’
human rights and their ability to live in dignity and on their own
terms under displaced circumstances.
Camps or self-settlement?
Governments and U.N. agencies have put forward various proposals
and criticisms about where refugees should live and how collective
humanitarian responses should be organized.29 What bearing do
refugee camps have on the broader realization of refugees’ rights
including freedom of movement and right to work? What does it
mean for Syrian refugees to realize the right to an adequate standard
476
of living and to exercise their housing rights within or outside of
refugee camps? Some government officials and U.N. or NGO
representatives have supported the position that Syrian refugees are
beer off living in official camps, su as Nimis and Karkamis in
Turkey. Others have contended that they have the right to move
freely outside of refugee camps and self-sele in rural, village, or
urban seings, as the vast majority of Syrian refugees already have
across the region. Outside of camps, refugees have typically paid
rent, in cash or on credit, while others have sought shelter in
unfinished buildings, on unclaimed land, or in informal tented
selements, sometimes exanging their labor for temporary plots of
space. Palestinian refugees from Syria have tended to gravitate
toward pre-existing Palestinian camps or gatherings, oen forced to
live in the shadows because of their la of legal status in
neighboring host countries.
Regardless of their exact location, self-seled Syrian refugees have
encountered sub-standard and overcrowded dwellings with very
lile security of tenure and unsanitary surrounding conditions. is
is especially true in Lebanon’s roughly 1,500 informal tented
selements, where the government—as a maer of policy—has not
developed adequate municipal infrastructure to extend sufficient
pipes, sewage, sanitation facilities, and drainage systems to areas
densely populated by refugees. Refugees living outside of camps
have faced the prospect of moving from place to place on a continual
basis because of rising rent prices and forced evictions. Yet, oen
they still prefer to self-sele in urban or rural areas because life in
refugee camps is not necessarily sustainable or bearable, especially
when remote camp locations can diminish prospects of finding work
and generating income. Given the allenges of self-selement,
should host governments and aid agencies continue to operate and
construct refugee camps? Encampment has represented a significant
allenge to the protection of basic human rights of Syrian refugees
in neighboring countries, especially freedom of movement. Yet
477
official camps have also provided an organized and dignified way for
many refugees to realize their rights, particularly the rights to
housing and to an adequate standard of living. Open questions
persist about encampment policies and how host governments, U.N.
agencies and NGOs should prioritize certain human rights above
others.
National camp policies for Syrian refugees have differed in Jordan,
Lebanon, and Turkey. In all three countries, refugees have
predominantly self-seled, but official refugee camps still have been
home to significant numbers of refugees in Turkey and Jordan. In
Lebanon, the government has opposed the building of official camps
from the outset of the crisis and has also espoused a policy of non-
integration of Syrian refugees in the country. A brief examination of
the three neighboring countries’ camp policies serves to
contextualize the human rights questions at issue.
Jordan’s camp policies
According to a December 2015 UNHCR-World Bank study, “Jordan
opted early on to let refugees sele in urban areas and only later
decided to establish camps when the number of refugee arrivals
grew sharply.”30 e government held off on establishing camps until
2013, aer pressure had mounted from northern tribal leaders who
insisted on camps in response to the growing influx. Jordan’s two
primary official camps, Zaatari and Azraq, have been managed and
administered by UNHCR, with operational support from partner
NGOs and U.N. agencies, as well as Jordanian police forces.31 Until
2015, Syrians were able to ‘bail out’ of the camps provided they
obtained sponsorship from a Jordanian national. As a result, the
camps largely served as an initial entry point, and indeed, the
Jordanian government’s 2015 urban verification process indicated
that Syrians generally preferred to live outside of camp seings.
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However, government policy in 2015 became more restrictive, with
‘escape’ from camps through the sponsorship system becoming a
formidable allenge. is raised questions about whether Jordan
was essentially warehousing a significant number of Syrians in
refugee camps and restricting their freedom of movement in the
name of containing security threats while effectively denying these
refugees their human rights.
Turkey’s shiing policy: costly camps to self-settlement
Across Syria’s northeastern border, Turkey has constructed, funded,
and operated 25 government-run camps housing approximately
280,000 people, comprising roughly 10-15 percent of the country’s
total Syrian refugee population, as of early 2016.32 e camps were
built in the three provinces contiguous to Syria, where most of
Turkey’s 2 million Syrian refugees entered into the country.
Construction of the camps was largely complete by the end of 2012;
but, aer initial enthusiasm for the establishment of camps, with
operational costs mounting, the Turkish government shied course.
By rough estimates, initial costs amounted to nearly $10 million for
the government to construct ea camp, followed by over $2 million
a month to keep ea camp running.33 With the Turkish government
having spent an estimated $6-8 billion on the refugee crisis by late
2015, the cost factor had a direct impact on policy decisions.34 As
Turkish political scientist, Cigdem Benam, explained,
Turkish camp policy was built on a number of inaccurate assumptions. e government
clearly assumed that Assad would be gone within a short period of time (3–6 months)
aer the uprising in Syria started … and the government wanted to ensure that its
Syrian “guests” lived comfortably in Turkish camps and had good memories of Turkey
during their time in the southern part of the county. ey even furnished camp
dwellings with luxurious flat screen TVs. e camps, of course, were expensive to build
and maintain. And once the government realized that it was not going to be just a
short-term crisis they stopped building camps.35
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Gradually the Turkish government shied policy, guided by its
system of Temporary Protection, through whi Syrian refugees
were allowed to self-sele and live interspersed in communities
throughout the country.36
Lebanon’s ‘no camps’ policy
By contrast, the Lebanese government established a policy against
camps from the outset of the refugee crisis. Since then, the prospect
of building official refugee camps has been highly contested among
cabinet ministers and U.N. agencies. In 2013–14, Minister of Social
Affairs, Rashid Derbas, actively lobbied for the construction of
refugee camps. He put forward a proposal for two camps—one in the
north and one in the east—to be built in the no-man’s-land between
Syria and Lebanon. is proposal won support from the Ministry of
the Interior, but it was met with opposition from others who
steadfastly supported Lebanon’s official “no camp” policy.37
roughout this policy debate, Minister of Social Affairs, Derbas,
has argued that Lebanon should deal with the question of refugee
camps from a humanitarian perspective, not a political one. Official
refugee camps, according to Derbas, would ease tension between
Lebanese and Syrians and provide refugees with decent and humane
conditions—especially if prefabricated houses were used instead of
tents. Besides, argued the Minister of Social Affairs to his fellow
Lebanese cabinet ministers, eventually the camps would serve as
border stations for refugees returning to their hometowns in Syria.
Derbas also added a security-based component to his argument,
contending “the (unofficial) presence of 1,400+ camps without any
kind of security surveillance is a danger in and of itself.”38 Derbas
contended that the Lebanese government had neglected to address
the issue due to expectations that only a few thousand Syrian
refugees would be displaced into Lebanon for a few months. is
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was, as it turned out, a vast underestimate: by the year 2016, the
number of Syrian refugees in Lebanon comprised one quarter of the
country’s population.
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In camps or self-settled, rights remain
essential
Realizing rights for refugee communities goes well beyond the
sear for adequate living conditions and accommodations. It also
entails the quest for freedom of movement, access to education,
healthcare, and livelihoods, and protection from exploitation.
UNHCR’s 2014 Policy on Alternatives to Camps built further on the
Refugee Agency’s 2009 Policy on Urban Refugees.39 In both policy
statements, UNHCR has embraced a “rights-based approa” to
refugee assistance, explicitly moving away from camps as the
assumed foundation of refugee policy.40 Under the 2014 Policy on
Alternatives to Camps, notes legal solar, Miael Kagan, “Refugees
are now to be reconceived as people with autonomy. e focus is to
be on their rights, their legal status, their ability to support
themselves and to raise their families in dignity.”41 Indeed, as the
2014 policy explicitly states,
From the perspective of refugees, alternatives to camps means being able to exercise
rights and freedoms, make meaningful oices regarding their lives and have the
possibility to live with greater dignity, independence and normality as members of
communities.42
e question of how neighboring countries, aid agencies, host
communities, and Syrian refugees can seek to realize these human
rights guides the remainder of this apter.
Freedom of movement
Under Article 13 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights and
Article 12 of the International Covenant on Civil and Political
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Rights, anyone lawfully present in a country has the right to
freedom of movement. Only in exceptional circumstances—not
generally present in the case of Syrian refugees—can governments
enact restrictions on movement, whi must be provided by law and
must be necessary to protect national security, public order, public
health, morals, or the rights and freedoms of others.43 As the U.N.
Human Rights Commiee has noted, in order to be consistent with
international human rights law, su restrictive measures on
freedom of movement must be proportionate to the narrow objective
or purpose of the restrictions without casting an overly wide net
over a geographic area, duration, or number of people.44 In addition,
discrimination on the basis of nationality is usually inconsistent with
human rights protections on the right to freedom of movement.
While there have been restrictions on mobility in and out of
camps in Jordan and Turkey, Syrian refugees have generally enjoyed
freedom of mobility within urban and rural areas of neighboring
countries. In Lebanon, however, dozens of municipalities have
imposed curfews for Syrian refugees.45 Ostensibly these curfews are
meant to ensure public order and community safety, but effectively
they serve to discriminate against Syrians in Lebanon on the basis of
their nationality. In additions to the nighime curfews, Syrians in
Lebanon have faced additional restrictions on their freedom of
movement. Many Syrians, especially those with expired residency
permits, have lived in constant apprehension of being stopped by the
police at epoints or in other public places. is has compounded
an already precarious situation by hampering their ability to seek
work or humanitarian assistance, oen meaning that Syrian refugees
cannot pay their rent or afford other basic necessities. In many
regards, freedom of movement is critical to other concerns about
refugees’ human rights and overall policies around integration (or
non-integration) of Syrian refugees. is entails recognizing
refugees’ legal right to work—or not—whi has been under active
483
scrutiny and consideration at various levels in neighboring
countries.
Right to work
Distinct legal and administrative barriers, including work permit
requirements, residency requirements, and border entry
requirements, have deterred Syrian refugees from exercising the
right to work, in both the informal and formal sectors, in
neighboring host countries. Specific parameters have varied in
Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey. But these barriers have had significant
bearing upon Syrian refugees’ access to livelihoods and their ability
to provide for themselves and their families.
Because the 1951 Refugee Convention and its 1967 Protocol do not
apply to Syrian refugees in Jordan, Turkey, and Lebanon, the right to
work is not ensured to them under international refugee law. e
corresponding la of formal asylum or refugee frameworks in
Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey has compounded the allenges
already facing refugees in exercising this right, especially since none
of the three neighboring governments under discussion have
officially recognized Syrians as refugees under domestic law.
In Jordan, work permit requirements have been difficult for most
Syrian refugees to meet, and they require considerable
documentation.46 Eligibility for work permits also has hinged on the
point of entry into Jordan, excluding most Syrian refugees from
eligibility depending on whi border crossing they traversed.
Meanwhile, employing Syrian refugees without work permits in
Jordan has led to fines for employers, with strict consequences for
the workers, who have faced the prospect of being sent ba to a
refugee camp, deported from the country and then barred from re-
entry. Additionally, the Labor Ministry has maintained a list of
‘closed’ professions for whi Syrian refugees are not eligible. e
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Ministry also has maintained quotas based on economic sectors for
migrants, including Syrians, so that work opportunities are
guaranteed to local communities. Fewer than 6,000 Syrians received
formal authorization to work in Jordan in 2014, but in the meantime
official measures have been under discussion to facilitate Syrian
refugees’ lawful access to the labor force, whether in camps,
qualified industrial zones, or host communities. Assuming that
Syrian refugees will eventually be allowed to work in certain zones
and sectors, it remains to be seen if the Jordanian government will
also allow these displaced Syrians to maintain their status as
UNHCR-registered refugees.
Turkey’s legal parameters for work permits have differed slightly
from Jordan. e Turkish government’s 2013 Law on Foreigners and
International Protection recognized Syrians’ need for protection—but
not their full refugee status. In 2015, members of the Turkish
Parliament draed bylaws and implementing legislation specifically
around the right to work. ese legal measures pinpointed certain
sectors and geographic zones for whi Syrian refugees would be
allowed to apply for work permits. is implementing legislation
was slated to pass through the Turkish Parliament by the end of
2015, but turbulent political dynamics led Turkey’s Minister of Labor
to announce instead that the government would not “give refugees
the right to work.”47 In 2016, however, the Turkish Council of
Ministers, did adopt regulations authorizing work permits for Syrian
refugees, representing a major development in the region.48
In Lebanon, displaced Syrians have been discouraged from
working in the formal and informal sectors even more so than in
Turkey and Jordan. According to Ministry of Labor data, only about
1,500 work permits were issued to Syrians in 2014.49 Since early 2015
the Lebanese government obliged UNHCR-registered refugees to
sign a notarized pledge not to work. Refugees were prohibited from
renewing their annual residence permits, authorizing their legal stay
in Lebanon, without signing this ‘no work’ pledge, among other
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requirements, in addition to paying a $200 yearly residency fee.50
According to a 2014 Ministry of Labor decree, Syrians were eligible
to work only in construction, agriculture, and cleaning sectors. Even
those Syrians who managed to find employment in these areas also
needed to have an official Lebanese sponsor to serve as their legal
guarantor in the country. is situation was compounded in 2015 by
Lebanon’s updated border requirements, as explained above, whi
have since prohibited ‘displaced’ Syrians from traveling ba and
forth across the border and have made it difficult for them to enter
Lebanon as migrant workers without ample documentation and
advance proof of sponsorship.
Su policies are understandable when one considers that the host
country governments are also concerned about the human rights of
their own citizens. Lebanese citizens, facing competition from
informal Syrian workers, have largely perceived Lebanon’s ‘no
work’ pledge as a positive policy decision.51 Key questions around
the right to work, meanwhile, have hinged on the fairness and
practicality of opening formal labor markets to Syrian refugees and
on proving the net positive effects of opening labor markets in host
countries. In this context, Western governments have pushed for
right-to-work policies for refugees, seeking to contain the refugee
crisis within the region. In practice, the situation has raised many
questions about whether Syrians have the legal right to work in
neighboring host countries, what law applies in this regard, and
whether Syrians should be restricted to work in specific zones and
sectors. e prospect of Syrian refugees gaining access to formal
labor markets in neighboring countries has raised hope for some and
apprehension for others. Neighboring host communities already
employ significant numbers of migrant workers from Egypt and
Southeast Asia, whose fate is unclear in this equation. It is also
unclear whether displaced Syrians will have to forego their status as
UNHCR-registered refugees in Jordan and Lebanon—or their status
486
under temporary protection in Turkey—if they obtain official
permission to work.
Regardless of these variables, the right to work is a contested and
contentious one, and one that has been under active debate and
consideration at the local level. It represents a potential source of
self-reliance for refugees and relative independence from insufficient
humanitarian aid and the limitations of the U.N. surrogate state. But
realizing the right to work for displaced Syrians across the board in
practice inevitably requires a significant amount of legal, political,
bureaucratic, and diplomatic maneuvering. Trade-offs are necessary
to benefit host communities, and negotiations will have to be guided
by a deep understanding of the competing interests and rights at
stake.
Economic, social, and cultural rights: food, health, and
education
Under relevant international standards and applicable treaties, states
have a duty to respect, protect, and fulfill basic human rights and to
allow for an adequate standard of living for everyone within a state
party’s jurisdiction. ese rights pertain to nationals and non-
nationals alike, including refugees, migrants, and other vulnerable or
marginalized groups. e rights to food, water, shelter and health are
set forth in the Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights
(ESC Covenant) and in the Convention on the Rights of the Child
(CRC). Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey have ea signed these treaties
without significant reservations. e binding nature of these rights,
however, is not fixed and is subject to progressive implementation.
In addition Article 2(3) of the ESC Covenant, specifies that
“developing countries, with due regard to human rights and their
national economy, may determine to what extent they would
487
guarantee the economic rights recognized in the present covenant to
non-nationals.”
e U.N. Commiee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights
(ESC Commiee) has nevertheless identified a minimum core
content of fundamental rights as virtual obligations: minimum
essential levels of foodstuffs, primary healthcare, basic shelter and
housing, and the most basic forms of education.52 Regarding
refugees and situations of humanitarian emergency, the ESC
Commiee has clarified that all states’ parties have a joint and
individual responsibility to “cooperate in providing disaster relief
and humanitarian assistance in times of emergency, including
assistance to refugees.”53
The right to food
e ESC Covenant recognizes the right to food in Article 11
including “freedom from hunger and malnutrition.”54 Yet violations
of the right to food occur among refugees when a state fails to
ensure freedom from hunger or actively blos access to food. For
Syrian refugees, the dollar amounts, eligibility, and frequency of
distribution of World Food Programme (WFP) vouers—the
primary source of ‘income’ for many refugee families—have shied
over time. Vulnerability assessments have indicated that WFP food
assistance has been scaled ba, leaving many Syrian refugees on the
cusp of abject poverty and extreme food insecurity.55 Among Syrian
refugees in Jordan, food constituted an average of 51 percent of
household expenditures according to Jordan’s 2015 Comprehensive
Food Security Monitoring Exercise.56 Syrian refugees in all three
primary host countries have reported self-monitored food rationing
su as reducing food intake per meal, or eating one meal per day,
due to cost.57
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The right to health
e ESC Covenant guarantees in Article 12 the “right of everyone to
the enjoyment of the highest aainable standard of physical and
mental health.”58 However, realization of the right to health and to
healthcare has been elusive for the vast majority of Syrian refugees.
Responsibility for the realization of refugees’ ESC rights may lie
with different actors simultaneously, including host states, U.N.
agencies and refugees themselves.
Syrian refugees’ healthcare needs have been steady and acute. In
contrast to the heavily subsidized healthcare system in Syria before
the war, most refugees in host countries found themselves at a loss
for how to sustain critical medical treatment and healthcare for
themselves and their families over any length of time.59 Medical care
has been a universal allenge for Syrian refugees regardless of the
condition: antenatal care, traumatic war injuries, communicable
diseases, ronic conditions, and cancer.
As with other refugee rights, host government policies on
healthcare differ. Lebanon’s mostly private healthcare system offers
public facilities. e Lebanon Crisis Response Plan 2015–16
identified healthcare as one of the most critical gaps in service
delivery among refugee communities: “Health centers are
overwhelmed by the increase in population … and persons displaced
from Syria increasingly need subsidization and support to access
basic healthcare.”60 In Jordan, more than half of the registered Syrian
refugee population has experienced high or severe vulnerability in
terms of access to healthcare.61 Jordan’s Ministry of Health,
according to the Jordan Response Plan (2016–18), predicted that the
direct financial cost of providing healthcare to Syrian refugees would
be roughly $67 million annually for the coming years. In Turkey,
Syrians under temporary protection have had the benefit of free
medical services, whi according to government officials has
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amounted to 9 million medical consultations, 280,000 surgical
procedures, and 66,000 births since 2011.62
Yet Syrian refugees have encountered countless obstacles in
exercising the right to health in relation to the benmarks of
accessibility, availability, affordability, and quality. estions
abound as to whether Syrian refugees in neighboring countries
should have access to free or subsidized emergency medical
treatment, primary, secondary and tertiary healthcare. Public health
ministries and U.N. agencies have conducted vaccination campaigns
and have worked to contain outbreaks of contagious diseases,
particularly among ildren, su as measles, polio, and olera.
ey have aempted to counter outbreaks of Leishmaniasis, scabies,
and watery diarrhea as well as help to manage the symptoms of
ronic conditions su as cancer, leukemia, and hypertension.
In all three countries, realization of Syrian refugees’ right to
health depends on access to medical treatment, health clinics,
medication, and hospitals. Access can be a function of proximity,
local capacity, transportation, and quality. Public health clinics have
been expanded and NGO medical services have been ramped up, but
cost can still be a prohibitive factor for refugees. Access to
emergency care and primary care—among myriad other healthcare
services—all come at a price.
The right to education63
Human rights principles seek to ensure access to education for
refugee and non-refugee ildren alike. Although the 1951 Refugee
Convention provisions on education do not directly apply to Syrian
refugees in neighboring countries, the right to education is spelled
out explicitly in two core U.N. human rights treaties that do directly
apply: the ESC Covenant (Article 13) and the CRC (Articles 28 and
29). Both of these human rights treaties set forth the right to primary
490
education for all ildren within a state’s jurisdiction, without
discrimination, and regardless of legal status.64 e CRC in Article
22 goes a step further than the ESC Covenant with respect to
refugees, also calling on states to ensure special protection and
humanitarian assistance for refugee ildren or those seeking
refugee status—although granting states significant discretion in the
process.65
Despite policies making public education legally accessible for
Syrian refugees in all three countries regardless of their status,
practical barriers have remained.66 ese have included differences
in curriculum and language of instruction, discrimination and
bullying, transportation costs, la of adequate classroom space and
teaers, and la of familiarity with the registration process.
Dilemmas have also arisen with regard to certification and remedial
policies that restrict eligibility for any ild who has already missed
two or more years of formal education. Meanwhile, Ministries of
Education have facilitated refugees’ tenical eligibility for public
sools by waiving fees, taking measures to open the enrollment
process, and compelling local municipalities to comply. In addition,
governments have worked with U.N. agencies and NGOs to
introduce non-formal education options, offer double shis in
existing sools, construct new sools, hire new teaers, and
laun multiple ba-to-sool campaigns.
Yet aer years of crisis in the region, sool enrollment rates
among Syrian refugee ildren continue to fall severely short in
Jordan, Lebanon, and Turkey. is raises questions about what the
right to education means for Syrian refugees in practice. By UNHCR
estimates, over half of all sool-aged Syrian ildren in neighboring
countries were not enrolled in formal education programs in 2015.67
In Turkey, where language is an obstacle, less than 30 percent of
sool-aged refugee ildren (ages 5–17) in host communities had
enrolled in sool as of August 2015.68 By comparison, sool
enrollment rates in Turkey’s refugee camps reaed almost 90
491
percent by mid-2015. In Lebanon, sool enrollment rates for sool-
aged Syrian refugees have remained below 50 percent since 2011;
enrollment rates in Jordan have been relatively higher, reaing
closer to 80 percent by mid-2015 according to 3RP Country
Education Sector Dashboards. But virtually all sool-aged Syrian
refugees in Jordan—as well as in Turkey and Lebanon—have been at
high risk for non-aendance since the start of the conflict in Syria.
Significant dropout rates in all three countries have meant increasing
ineligibility for public education among Syrian refugee ildren;
they are generally disqualified from enrolment aer having missed
more than two consecutive years of sool. Remedial education
programs alone have not accelerated progress for the vast numbers
of refugee ildren who have fallen behind.
Wider barriers to education also exist in the form of financial
pressures, access to livelihoods, and ild labor. Human rights
principles seek to ensure access to education and also to protect
ildren from economic exploitation and to prevent them from
engaging in work that is harmful to their health, safety, or morals.
Legal standards to this effect have been agreed to by Syria’s
neighbors and are set out in the CRC, ILO Minimum Age
Convention, and the ILO Worst Forms of Child Labor Convention.
For Syrian refugee families, enrolling ildren in sool can mean
compromising income opportunities that would otherwise help meet
the family’s basic survival needs. Child labor rates in Jordan,
Lebanon, and Turkey have indicated that many refugee families
have been forced to prioritize work over education; in Jordan the
ILO has documented ild labor rates at 37 percent among Syrian
refugee ildren between the ages of nine and sixteen.69 Countless
numbers of Syrian ildren in Lebanon and Turkey have also worked
to support themselves and their families out of economic need while
foregoing their education in the process.
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The right to a nationality
Since the start of the crisis, more than 142,000 Syrian ildren have
been born to refugee families in exile. Beyond questions of access to
social services and livelihoods, this fact has raised human rights
concerns about how these ildren will claim another fundamental
right: the right to a nationality. According to Article 7 of the CRC,
every “ild shall be registered immediately aer birth and shall
have from birth the right to a name and to acquire a nationality.” e
process of official birth registration can be a daunting prospect for
refugees. But without birth registration and official documentation
of their nationality, Syrian refugees face a lifetime of allenges in
exercising their human rights, accessing public services, maintaining
their legal status, and moving freely from place to place.
UNHCR estimates that since the refugee crisis began, more than
70 percent of Syrian refugee births in Lebanon have not been
registered, and that this reflects the broader situation of newborn
refugees throughout the region.70 e pervasive la of birth
registration among ildren runs in parallel with an even broader
la of valid identity documents among Syrian refugee adults.71 In
their unexpectedly abrupt departures from Syria, many refugees le
behind national identity cards, marriage certificates, family books,
and passports. e allenge of renewing expired identity documents
also presents difficulties for most Syrian refugees.
When refugees cannot present required identity documents to
civil registry authorities, birth registration becomes virtually
impossible in most situations. is predicament may be exacerbated
by a la of familiarity with the registration process and
requirements, especially if a ild’s father is not present. Because
Syrian nationality is transferred only from the father, mothers on
their own oen struggle to register the births of their newborns.
Challenges in obtaining official birth certificates can translate
directly into statelessness.72 Without documentation to prove
493
nationality, stateless Syrian ildren will inevitably face difficulties
in accessing healthcare and education, among other rights. ey will
face obstacles not only in exercising their freedom of movement, but
also in the right to return to Syria when the war ends. Syrian refugee
ildren who are listed in their parents’ family booklets will need
their own identity documentation when they turn fieen, but they
will not be able to go ba to Syria to obtain it and face difficulties
doing so in host countries.
494
Conclusion
e longer-term outlook for Syrian refugees, in the context of their
inability to claim the full range of rights just discussed, is a lens on
the larger crisis. As the situation continues to intensify and becomes
increasingly complex, refugees are sometimes taking maers into
their own hands. In a fraction of cases, this means seeking asylum
outside of the region and beyond the boundaries of Lebanon, Turkey,
and Jordan. In other cases, this means staying in the region while
seeking human rights out of the ashes of human dignity.
It is now clear to the host governments, U.N. agencies, aid
organizations, and the international community that the Syrian
refugee crisis will persist, with no clear resolution and no immediate
answers on the horizon. Governments, U.N. agencies, NGOs, and
refugees that have continued to flee from Syria are forced to respond
to the crisis in whatever way they are able or willing. Despite the
desperation borne out of the situation, policies do not necessarily
reflect humanitarian or human rights considerations. estions,
including heartbreaking decisions about whether to flee or to remain
in a devastated country, and myriad other concerns and dilemmas
will arise, again and again, in response to the shiing, and at times
contradictory, policy positions in ea country.
e key debates concerning human rights will continue to focus
on access to territory, public services, and safe livelihoods. Given the
la of clearly applicable international standards, states, U.N.
agencies, and aid organizations will continue to look to one another
for guidance on how to proceed. Unfortunately, the complexity of
the Syrian refugee crisis will not diminish in the foreseeable future.
Answers will not suddenly emerge clearly, and outcomes will not
become more predictable. Yet, amidst the human tragedy, positive
495
work continues to be done—oen based on human rights standards
within legal frameworks.
estions will arise from the rubble of politics, policies, and
human life, as to whether hope remains for a beer future. In the
context of the Syrian refugee crisis, human rights norms and
standards are inadequate and insufficient. But they can and do offer
more than just the illusion of hope to refugees and their families. In
incremental ways, these standards and norms can provide a form of
rough scaffolding for individuals to utilize as bridges, or even as
tightropes. is can lead to the practical realization of human
dignity and to a minimum of decent treatment for Syrian refugees
who face innumerable dilemmas and allenges in neighboring
countries.
496
Notes
1 Interview in person with Maha Kaaa, ILO Syrian Refugee Response Coordinator for
Jordan, Beirut Lebanon, November 25, 2015.
2 For comparative data and statistics on recent humanitarian emergencies and protracted
refugee crises, see United Nations Refugee Agency information portal, available at:
hp://data.unhcr.org [accessed November 11, 2015].
3 United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs data, available at:
www.unoa.org/syria [accessed November 11, 2015].
4 e 1951 Refugee Convention and 1967 Protocol do not apply to displaced Syrians in
neighboring host states of Lebanon, Jordan and Turkey. is is because Lebanon and
Jordan have not ratified the treaty. And although Turkey has ratified the treaty, it filed a
significant reservation stating that it would not be held to convention standards with
respect to non-Europeans.
5 For breakdown of Syrian refugee population by host country, see U.N. Refugee Agency
information available at: hp://data.unhcr.org/syrianrefugees/regional.php [accessed
November 11, 2015].
6 e international legal definition of a refugee is “a person who owing to a well-founded
fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a
particular social group or political opinion, is outside the country of his nationality and
is unable or, owing to su fear, is unwilling to avail himself of the protection of that
country; or who, not having a nationality and being outside the country of his former
habitual residence as a result of su events, is unable or, owing to su fear, is
unwilling to return to it,” Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees, 189 UNTS
2545, done July 28, 1951, entered into force Apr. 22, 1954, supplemented by the Protocol
relating to the Status of Refugees, 606 UNTS 8791, done Jan. 31, 1967, entered into force
Oct. 24, 1967.
http://data.unhcr.org/
http://www.unocha.org/syria
http://data.unhcr.org/syrianrefugees/regional.php
497
7 U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR), Handbook and Guidelines on
Procedures and Criteria for Determining Refugee Status under the 1951 Convention and
the 1967 Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees, December 2011,
HCR/1P/4/ENG/REV. 3, p. 33 “War Refugees” Section, available at:
www.refworld.org/docid/4f33c8d92.html [accessed October 29, 2015].
8 e mandate of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees covers “all persons
outside their country of origin for reasons of feared persecution, conflict, generalized
violence, or other circumstances that have seriously disturbed public order and who, as
a result, require international protection.” U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees
(UNHCR), Note on the Mandate of the High Commissioner for Refugees and his Office,
October 2013, p. 3, available at: www.refworld.org/docid/5268c9474.html [accessed
November 14, 2015].
9 K. Hamill and S. Bartels, “Running Out of Time: Survival of Syrian Refugee Children in
Lebanon,” FXB/Harvard Report (2014), available at: hp://fxb.harvard.edu/fxb-report-
survival-syrian-refugee-ildren-lebanon/ [accessed October 31, 2015].
10 A. Farmer, “A Commentary on the Commiee on the Rights of the Child’s Definition of
Non-Refoulement for Children: Broad Protection for Fundamental Rights” (2011). Res
Gestae. Paper 8 hp://ir.lawnet.fordham.edu/res_gestae/8 [accessed September 4, 2016].
11 See 1998 MOU between UNHCR and Government of Jordan.
12 M.B. Dembour, “What Are Human Rights? Four Sools of ought,” Human Rights
Quarterly (2010), available at: hp://muse.jhu.edu/login?
type=summary&url=/journals/human_rights_quarterly/v032/32.1.dembour.html
[accessed September 4, 2016].
13 See Preamble to Constitution of Lebanon.
14 N. Katamine, World Bank Conference Remarks, “Fragility in Middle Income Countries:
New Ideas for Unique Challenges,” Lima, Peru, October 2, 2015, available at:
www.worldbank.org/en/events/2015/09/28/fragility-in-middle-income-countries-new-
ideas-for-unique-allenges.print [accessed October 11, 2015].
15 Interviews in person with UNRWA representatives and Palestinian refugees from Syria
in Jordan (June 2014); See N. Erakat, “Palestinian Refugees and the Syrian Uprising:
498
Filling the Protection Gap During Secondary Forced Displacement,” International
Journal of Refugee Law (Oxford University Press, 2014), available at:
hp://ijrl.oxfordjournals.org/content/26/4/581.full?etoc [accessed November 12, 2015].
16 Norwegian Refugee Council, “No Escape: Civilians in Syria Struggle to Find Safety
Across Borders,” NRC Report, November 2014, available at:
www.rescue.org/sites/default/files/resource-
file/No%20Escape%20Syria%20report%20IRC%20final%20Nov2014 ; U.N. News Center,
“UN Agency Urges Jordan to Allow 12,000 Desperate Syrian Refugees Stranded at
Border,” December 8, 2015, available at: www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?
NewsID=52760#.VmeDuUzLQ [accessed December 8, 2015].
17 In early 2013, Jordan’s Prime Minister, Abdullah Ensour, announced the government’s
official non-admission policy for Palestinian refugees from Syria. It was widely
understood to reflect (1) the Jordanian Government’s reluctance to increase Jordan’s
pre-existing Palestinian population of roughly 2 million and (2) the Jordan
Government’s fear of becoming the long-term “alternative home” country for
Palestinians. Nevertheless, Jordan’s strict no-entry policy generally excludes Palestine
refugees from Syria who have a Jordanian national number. Other exceptions to the
policy occur sometimes for those who (a) are eligible to receive a Jordanian national
number (for example, those who possess a royal acquial form issued aer their
ancestors’ expulsion from Jordan due to the events of September 1970) and (b) have
applied for political asylum through the Jordanian embassy in Syria.
18 e Universal Declaration of Human Rights (Article 14), available at:
www.un.org/en/universal-declaration-human-rights/ [accessed December 10, 2015].
19 H. Hannum (ed.), Guide to International Human Rights Practice, (Hotei Publishing, 2004)
p. 214.
20 Under customary international law, however, they are arguably bound by the principle
of non-refoulement, or the prohibition of forcible return. is provides at least some
legal baseline for not rejecting refugees or turning them away at the border with Syria.
21 K. Kirisci, “Syrian Refugees in Turkey: e Limits of an Open Door Policy,” Brookings
Institution Blog, June 27, 2013, available at: www.brookings.edu/blogs/up-
front/posts/2013/06/27-syrian-refugees-in-turkey-kirisci [accessed October 10, 2015]; R.
499
Sweis, “Jordan’s Open Door Is Now Only Craed, Leaving Syrians Stranded,” New York
Times, November 20, 2014, available at:
www.nytimes.com/2014/11/20/world/middleeast/jordans-open-door-is-now-only-
craed-leaving-syrians-stranded.html [accessed November 21, 2014]; Human Rights
Wat, “Turkey: Syrians Pushed Ba at the Border,” November 23, 2015, available at:
www.hrw.org/news/2015/11/23/turkey-syrians-pushed-ba-border [accessed December
10, 2015].
22 Lebanese General Directorate for General Security, Specifications on Lebanon’s Border
Entry Categories and Requirements, available at: www.general-
security.gov.lb/getaament/e1e76fe0-181e-4fe7-a19c-9b175759ad49/Rules .aspx?
set=f247bae1-d485-42fa-8a33-079df973a536 [accessed November 10, 2015].
23 See Protection Sector Dashboard June 2015, InterAgency Coordination, Lebanon,
available at: data.unhcr.org/syrianrefugees/download.php?id=9236 [accessed December
10, 2015].
24 e 2003 MOU between the Lebanese government and UNHCR, however, does not cover
prima facie refugee determinations.
25 See Protection Sector Dashboard June 2015, InterAgency Coordination, Lebanon,
available at: data.unhcr.org/syrianrefugees/download.php?id=9236 [accessed December
10, 2016].
26 J. Owens, “UNHCR: Lebanon’s New Rules for Syrian Refugees Raise Concern,” VOA
News, January 20, 2015, available at: www.voanews.com/content/unhcr-says-lebanon-
new-syrianrefugee-rules-raise-concern/2606223.html [accessed Mar 20, 2016].
27 FrontiersRuwad, “Violation of the Right to Seek Asylum and Non-Refoulement,” Joint
Submission in View of Lebanon’s Second Periodic Review by the U.N. Human Rights
Council, Mar 23, 2015, available at:
hps://frontiersruwad.files.wordpress.com/2015/03/2015-upr_lebanon_right-to-seek-
asylum_joint-submission_mar-2015 [accessed November 10, 2015].
28 ibid.
29 Norwegian Refugee Council Report, “A Precarious Existence: e Shelter Situation of
Syrian Refugees in Neighboring Countries,” June 2014, available at:
500
www.nrc.no/ar/_img/9179446 [accessed November 10, 2015].
30 P. Verme, et al.,World Bank and UNHCR, The Welfare of Syrian Refugees: Evidence from
Jordan and Lebanon, December 16, 2015, available at:
www.worldbank.org/en/news/feature/2015/12/16/welfare-syrian-refugees-evidence-
from-jordan-lebanon [accessed December 17, 2015].
31 D. Sullivan and S. Tobin, “Security and Resilience Among Syrian Refugees in Jordan,”
Middle East Research and Information Project, October 14, 2014, available at:
www.merip.org/mero/mero101414 [accessed November 10, 2015].
32 “UN Refugee Chief Visits Camp in Turkey,” Andalou Agency, January 15, 2016, available
at: hp://aa.com.tr/en/turkey/un-refugee-ief-visits-refugee-camp-in-turkey/505716
[accessed January 16, 2016].
33 “Turkey Opens Up to International Aid in Camps,” IRIN News, November 16, 2012,
available at: www.irinnews.org/analysis/2012/11/16/turkey-opens-international-aid-
camps [accessed December 2, 2015]; Mac McClelland, “How to Build a Perfect Refugee
Camp,” The New York Times, February 13, 2014, available at:
www.nytimes.com/2014/02/16/magazine/how-to-build-a-perfect-refugee-camp.html?
_r=0 [accessed December 2, 2015].
34 O. Budak, “Global Migrant Crisis Requires Global Effort,” Boston Globe, November 14,
2014, available at: hps://www.bostonglobe.com/opinion/2015/11/14/global-migrant-
crisis-requires-global-effort/S4DVxSUm4NNJ9vWLhKVrpJ/story.html [accessed
December 2, 2015].
35 Interviews with C. Benam by phone and email, December 2015.
36 Ahmet Icduygu, “Syrian Refugees in Turkey: e Long Road Ahead,” Migration Policy
Institute, April, 2015, available at: www.migrationpolicy.org/resear/syrianrefugees-
turkey-long-road-ahead [accessed December 2, 2015].
37 “Lebanese Minister Lobbies for Refugee Camps,” The Daily Star, September 27, 2014,
available at: www.dailystar.com.lb/News/Lebanon-News/2014/Sep-27/272213-lebanese-
minister-lobbies-for-syrian-refugee-camps.ashx#axzz3EWzMs0 [accessed November
11, 2015].
501
38 E. Shoufi, “Lebanon: Political Consensus Over Establishment of Formal Syrian Refugee
Camps Remains Elusive,” Al-Akhbar, September 11, 2014, available at: hp://english.al-
akhbar.com/node/21514 [accessed November 11, 2015].
39 U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees, UNHCR Policy on Alternatives to Camps, July 22,
2014, UNHCR/HCP/2014/9, available at: www.refworld.org/docid/5423ded84.html
[accessed December 9, 2015].
40 An official refugee camp is defined by UNHCR’s Policy on Alternatives to Camps as
“any purpose-built, planned and managed location or spontaneous selement where
refugees are accommodated and receive assistance and services from government and
humanitarian agencies. e defining aracteristic of a camp, as highlighted in
paragraph 3.2 of the policy, is some degree of limitation on the rights and freedoms of
refugees, su as their ability to move freely, oose where to live, work or open a
business, cultivate land or access protection and services.”
41 M. Kagan, “Why Do We Still Have Refugee Camps?” Urban Refugees Debate, October 8,
2013, available at: hp://urban-refugees.org/debate/why-do-we-still-have-refugee-
camps/ [accessed December 1, 2015].
42 U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees, UNHCR Policy on Alternatives to Camps, July 22,
2014, UNHCR/HCP/2014/9, available at: www.refworld.org/docid/5423ded84.html
[accessed December 9, 2015].
43 Id. at ICCPR Art. 12.3.
44 U.N. Human Rights Commiee (HRC), CCPR General Comment No. 27: Article 12
(Freedom of Movement) 2 November 1999, CCPR/C/21/Rev.1/Add.9, available at:
www.refworld.org/docid/45139c394.html [accessed December 10, 2015].
45 Human Rights Wat, Lebanon: At Least 45 Local Curfews Imposed on Syrian Refugees,
October 3, 2014, available at: www.hrw.org/news/2014/10/03/lebanon-least-45-local-
curfews-imposed-syrianrefugees [accessed January 1, 2016].
46 As identified by Jordan’s Ministry of Labor, these requirements include a valid passport,
Ministry of Interior security card, work contract, registration of employer’s business,
proof of worker’s social security subscription, and annual work permit fees.
502
47 Today’s Zaman, “Minister: Turkey Will Not Give Syrian Refugees Right to Work,”
August 8, 2015, available at: www.todayszaman.com/anasayfa_minister-turkey-will-
not-give-syrian-refugees-right-to-work_395996.html [accessed November 1, 2015].
48 E. Gurses and M. Ozkan, “Turkey Plans to Introduce Work Permits for Syrian Refugees,
Minister Says,” Reuters, Jan. 11, 2016, available at: www.reuters.com/article/us-europe-
migrants-turkey-idUSKCN0UP0QP20160111 [accessed January 11, 2016].
49 Lebanese Ministry of Labor’s 2014 Annual Report, available at:
www.labor.gov.lb/_layouts/MOL_Application/Cur/%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%AA%D9%82%
D8%B1%D9%8A%D8%B1%20%D8%A7%D9%84%D8%B3%D9%86%D9%88%D9%8A%20%20
2014 [accessed November 11, 2016].
50 UNHCR, Syrian Refugees in Lebanon, Snapshot Jan-Mar 2015, available at:
hp://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/Syrian_Refugees_Lebanon_Snapsh
ot_Jan_Mar2015_v3_20150417 [accessed November 11, 2015].
51 Interviews conducted in person by author, November 2015, Beirut, Lebanon.
52 e Nature of States Parties’ Obligations (1990), U.N. Doc. HRI/GEN/1/Rev.7, May 12,
2004at 15, para. 10, available at:
hp://tbinternet.ohr.org/_layouts/treatybodyexternal/TBSear.aspx?
Lang=en&TreatyID=9&DocTypeID=11 [accessed November 11, 2015].
53 U.N. Commiee on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights (CESCR), General Comment
No. 12: The Right to Adequate Food (Art. 11 of the Covenant), 12 May 1999, available at:
www.refworld.org/docid/4538838c11.html [accessed December 10, 2015].
54 U.N. General Assembly, International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights, 16 December 1966, United Nations, Treaty Series, vol. 993, p. 3, available at:
www.refworld.org/docid/3ae6b36c0.html [accessed December 10, 2015].
55 “Syrian Refugees No Longer Receive Food Vouers,” Jordan Times, Mar 19, 2015,
available at: www.jordantimes.com/news/local/34000-syrian-refugees-no-longer-
receive-food-vouers-april [accessed November 14, 2015].
56 See 3RP, Regional Refugee & Resilience Response Plan 2016–17 In Response to the Syria
Crisis, Regional Strategic Overview, p. 31–2, available at: www.3rpsyriacrisis.org/wp-
503
content/uploads/2015/12/3RP-Regional-Overview-2016-2017 [accessed September 4,
2016].
57 See 3RP, Regional Refugee & Resilience Response Plan (2016–17) in Response to the
Syria Crisis, Regional Strategic Overview, p. 31–2, available at:
www.3rpsyriacrisis.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/12/3RP-Regional-Overview-2016-
2017 [accessed December 20, 2015].
58 U.N. General Assembly, International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural
Rights, December 16, 1966, United Nations, Treaty Series, vol. 993, p. 3, available at:
www.refworld.org/docid/3ae6b36c0.html [accessed December 10, 2015].
59 WHO Response to the Syrian Crisis: Regional Situation Report, World Health
Organization, January 2015, available at:
www.who.int/hac/crises/syr/sitreps/syria_regional_health_sitrep_january2015
[accessed December 20, 2015].
60 See Government of Lebanon and United Nations, Lebanon Crisis Response Plan 2015–16,
available at:
hps://docs.unoa.org/sites/dms/Syria/LCRP_document_EN_26Mar2015 [accessed
November 20, 2015].
61 UNHCR Jordan, Jordan Refugee Response, Vulnerability Assessment Framework Survey,
May 2015, p. 38, available at:
hp://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/vaf [accessed November 19,
2015].
62 O. Budak, “Global Migrant Crisis Requires Global Effort,” Boston Globe, November 14,
2014, available at: hps://www.bostonglobe.com/opinion/2015/11/14/global-migrant-
crisis-requires-global-effort/S4DVxSUm4NNJ9vWLhKVrpJ/story.html [accessed
December 2, 2015].
63 Save the Children, “Futures Under reat: e Impact of the Education Crisis on Syria’s
Children,” (2014), available at: www.savetheildren.org/atf/cf/%7B9def2ebe-10ae-432c-
9bd0-df91d2eba74a%7D/FUTURES_UNDER_THREAT.PDF [accessed September 4,
2016].
504
64 See General Comment No 13: e right to education (1999) U.N. Commiee on
Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, “Educational institutions and programmes have
to be accessible to everyone, without discrimination, within the jurisdiction of the state
party.”
65 CRC Article 22 “States Parties shall take appropriate measures to ensure that a ild who
is seeking refugee status or who is considered a refugee in accordance with applicable
international or domestic law and procedures shall, whether unaccompanied or
accompanied by his or her parents or by any other person, receive appropriate
protection and humanitarian assistance in the enjoyment of applicable rights set forth in
the present Convention and in other international human rights or humanitarian
instruments to whi the said States are Parties.”
66 Save the Children, “Futures Under reat: e Impact of the Education Crisis on Syria’s
Children,” 2014, available at: www.savetheildren.org/atf/cf/%7B9def2ebe-10ae-432c-
9bd0-df91d2eba74a%7D/FUTURES_UNDER_THREAT.PDF [accessed November 18,
2015].
67 3RP Regional Overview 2016-17, p. 34, available at:
hp://data.unhcr.org/syrianrefugees/download.php?id=9937 [accessed January 1, 2016].
68 S. Gee, “When I Picture My Future, I See Nothing: Barriers to Education for Syrian
Refugee Children in Turkey,” Human Rights Watch, November 2015, available at:
www.hrw.org/sites/default/files/report_pdf/turkey1115_reportcover_web [accessed
December 10, 2015].
69 Interview in person with Maha Kaaa, ILO Syrian Refugee Response Coordinator for
Jordan, Beirut Lebanon, November 25, 2015.
70 A. Sen, “Born In Exile, Syrian Children Face reat of Statelessness,” UNHCR News,
November 4, 2014, available at: www.unhcr.org/5458916.html [accessed December 19,
2015].
71 Norwegian Refugee Council, “Registering Rights: Syrian Refugees and the
Documentation of Births, Deaths, and Marriages in Jordan,” 2015, available at:
www.nrc.no/ar/img.aspx?file_id=9208964&ext= [accessed February 2, 2016].
505
72 Z. Albarazi and L. Waas, “Statelessness and Displacement,” Norwegian Refugee Council
Scoping Paper, 2015, available at: www.nrc.no/ar/_img/9197390 [accessed
December 20, 2015].
506
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Verme, P. et al. The Welfare of Syrian Refugees: Evidence from
Jordan and Lebanon, (UNHCR and World Bank, 2016). Available
at: hps://openknowledge.worldbank.org/handle/10986/23228
[accessed July 17, 2015].
510
Section V
Gender and human rights in the
Middle East and North Africa
511
15
Colliding Rights and Wrongs
Intimate labor, health, human rights, and
the state in the Gulf
Pardis Mahdavi
512
Introduction
Migrant–state encounters transform both migrants and the states
within whi they move and live. Whether in the home or host
country, migrant interactions with local and state officials affect and
are affected by migrants’ intimate lives. Juxtaposing migrants
against a reified and monolithic state eclipses the micro
opportunities made possible by state actors. is apter looks at
what happens when migrants encounter the state in its various,
personified forms. ese personified manifestations of the state
include the individuals whom migrants experience as the state or
authorities acting on behalf of or in the interests of the state, su as
embassy officials, employers, hospital staff, or law enforcement. In
these encounters, migrants have opportunities to negotiate their
agency specifically within the realm of SRRH and mobilize through
their frustrating immobility. In addition, these interactions affect
those who present them with allenges and possibilities. e
following stories of various dyads and triads, whi represent
microcosms between migrants and the state, highlight the role of
migrants’ intimate lives in producing micro mobilities and
movements. Migrants and state officials come across profound
opportunities in the small openings throughout their journeys—
whether provided, created or imposed—and find possibilities of
drawing on intimate lives to ange the immobilities of others. ese
encounters provide an opportunity to look more closely at migrants’
agency as well as the intricate workings of state power.
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Stories from the field
Nataly, born and raised in Madagascar, always knew she wanted to
be a mother, but she never imagined that becoming a mother would
land her in jail. ough she still does not fully understand the
reasons for her imprisonment, Nataly was sent to jail in Kuwait the
moment her employers discovered her pregnancy. She was arged
on two separate counts: zina (or adultery and sex outside of
marriage) and violation of her employment contract. Nataly’s
decision to migrate to work abroad had not been an easy one, and
now her only desire is to return home to Madagascar with her baby
boy.
Working with an informal recruitment agency, Nataly had gone to
Kuwait and was placed in the home of a local Kuwaiti family. Over
time, Nataly became very close with the eldest son of her employers
named Afzal. He would sometimes take her to the movies on her
days off, and the two started sneaking into one another’s rooms in
the late hours of the evening aer the rest of the family had gone to
sleep. Nataly remembers Afzal as being kind, courteous and gentle.
“And he smelled good. It was too easy to fall in love with him,” she
added.
But when Nataly became pregnant, Afzal and the rest of the
family anged their aitudes towards her almost overnight. At first,
Nataly tried to hide her pregnancy, even from Afzal. Given her
slender frame, however, the obvious protrusion of her belly was not
easy to hide. Afzal was the first to notice. “He put his hand on my
belly and asked, ‘is this what I think?’ When I nodded, he was so
angry with me! He started yelling at me, asking me how I could have
let this happen. en that night he stopped speaking to me, forever,”
Nataly said through tears. Her employers hadn’t noticed the ange
514
in Nataly’s figure, but they noticed the ange in their son’s
behavior. Afzal, who oen wanted to take all his meals at home and
took Nataly out most weekends, was suddenly absent most of the
time. is led Nataly’s employers to question her regarding his
whereabouts. Nataly could not properly answer her employers’
questions and eventually ended up confessing her pregnancy. is
was unacceptable to her employers who turned her over to the
police, reporting her for the crimes of zina and brea of contract.
e police took Nataly to a detention center where she met over a
dozen other pregnant women. e police explained to Nataly that
she would be held in the center until her due date drew closer. She
had regular medical examinations, and when it was time for her
delivery, she was taken to a local hospital and gave birth to a baby
boy whom she named Afzal aer his father. She tried to contact her
previous employers and the baby’s father, but they never returned
her calls. A week aer she had given birth, Nataly was sent to a
different detention center. is time her suitemates were other
Malagasy and Ethiopian women who had babies. e babies were
allowed to live with them in the center, but minimal supplies were
provided. During this time Nataly was vaguely aware that she would
have to go to court and possibly face deportation. What she did not
know, however, was that if she were deported, the baby would
possibly remain in Kuwait as a stateless person if paternity were tied
to a Kuwaiti citizen.
Nataly and others in the detention center feared deportation
because it would restrict them from returning to the region and
possibly from finding work abroad ever again. One day a
representative from the Malagasy government came to visit the
women in the center. He was accompanied by a local activist and
asked to meet with all of the Malagasy women who were being held.
When they had convened, he told the women that several women
who had been deported from the detention center had approaed
the Ministry of Labor to report the situation of those being held in
515
detention against their will. Because of the collaborative efforts of
survivors and several faith-based initiatives, the government of
Madagascar had become invested in helping the women go home
without the shame of deportation. He offered all of the women
amnesty in exange for testimony about their recruiters and their
working situations abroad.
Several of the women took the official up on his offer. But Nataly
refused. “I said I didn’t want to go home if I can’t take Afzal (the
baby) with me. I’m not leaving without my son, I told them that. I
said I would rather rot in this jail, twelve women and how many
babies to one room. All of it, I would take that, but I would not go
home, no way,” Nataly explained. But Nataly felt conflicted. On the
one hand she worried for her family ba home, especially given
that she had not been paid for these many months of her labor, and
her mother and siblings could barely survive. On the other hand, she
felt that she could not leave without her son. Nataly’s story,
however, toued the government official who used her case to begin
lobbying for new laws regarding ildren of Malagasy women. Most
of the women who did not have ildren were repatriated, and a few
Malagasy women who did have babies le their ildren behind and
went home. Today, Nataly remains in jail with her son, awaiting
trial.
Fabian is a close friend of Nataly’s who also migrated from
Madagascar to Kuwait in sear of employment abroad. While their
trajectories started out in a similar fashion, and they even shared the
same jail cell for a time period in Kuwait, the outcomes of their
experiences were quite different. “Me, I don’t detest the government,
or really, the governments (les gouvernmentes), because the
governments oen help me. But the people, or really, my employer,
it’s she who detests me,” said Fabian, a slender Malagasy woman not
more than five feet tall. Fabian wore a scarf on her head because, in
her own words, “the working abroad made me si, and made me
lose my hair and all and all.” Fabian was born and raised in a rural
516
area located in the southern part of Madagascar. Aer her two
brothers were killed during violent altercations resulting from the
illegal stealing and selling of zebu, Fabian’s father decided to move
to Antananarivo, the capital of Madagascar referred to as Tana by
locals, in sear of safety for his only remaining ild. When they
arrived in Tana in 2012, her aging father, who turned seventy-five
the same year, was unable to find work.
In order to support her family, Fabian sought out employment
abroad and worked through an unlicensed recruiting agency. e
agency turned Fabian over to their partnering agency in Kuwait.
When she arrived, the staff at the partnering agency told her that she
was on a tourist visa, as opposed to a working visa, and that she
should keep a low profile due to the fact that her migration had been
illegal. “at is the first time I’m hearing that I’m there illegally.
Later I come to learn that Malagae [Malagasy] women are not
supposed to go to the Middle East, for this reason I’m just given a
tourist visa, but then I didn’t know exactly,” she explained1. Fabian
was placed in the home of a Kuwaiti family who insisted that she
wear a veil that covered her from head to toe, only revealing her
hands and face. She was given a very small room where she was
made to sleep on the floor but was only permied three to four
hours of sleep ea night. She spent her waking hours cleaning the
five-story house whi had several rooms on ea floor. Fabian did
not have a lot of experience with domestic work, so it took her some
time to learn how to work efficiently.
Shortly aer Fabian’s arrival, her female employer began giving
her shots twice a week. To this day, Fabian does not know what
exactly was contained in the shots, but she explained that aer the
shots her muscles hurt, her hands trembled, and she could not sleep.
“e madam is telling me I must do the shots for no babies, and for
more energy so I work beer, but my body cannot support the
shots,” Fabian said, referring to the fact that she began to have
epilepsy aer receiving these unidentified injections. Later, Fabian’s
517
doctor told me that he suspected that the shots were some
combination of contraceptives and B-12 energy shots, but he could
not be sure. Five other migrant women who worked as domestic
workers in the Gulf also reported receiving these injections.
One evening, the male head of household returned from work to
find his wife beating Fabian so severely that Fabian began
hemorrhaging. Fabian’s male employer began to beat his wife and
loed her in their bedroom. Aerwards, he came to Fabian and
offered her money. “He came and said to me, ‘Fabian, you must
leave here, if not, my wife will kill you. She is a very jealous woman,
and she will hurt you. You must go.’ But I was too weak. He saw
then that I’m very si. So I try to rest some days, but I keep the
money he gave me and I keep the idea,” Fabian explained. One night
a few weeks later, Fabian exited the house under the pretense of
taking out the trash. “at night, I took out the trash and never came
ba,” she said with a slight laugh, revealing a warm smile that I had
never seen before.
She was not sure of where to go but knew she wanted to avoid the
police because she had migrated illegally. When an Ethiopian taxi
driver offered her a ride, asking her if she wanted to go to the police
or the hospital, she asked him to take her to the South African
embassy. “I don’t know why I’m saying South African embassy, just
I have a feeling that there they can help me,” Fabian recalled, smiling
once again at the decision she had made some months ago. She
arrived at the South African embassy just aer midnight, and the
embassy was closed. e taxi driver, however, recognized the
security guard at the entrance and convinced him to allow Fabian to
spend the night in the security booth. She was grateful for the help,
and glad to have a place to rest as her health worsened.
e next day she went inside the South African embassy and was
able to speak with the labor aaé despite not being a South
African citizen. “He was so kind and helped me. He took me to the
shelter and said that he would look aer me, whi he did,” Fabian
518
explained. She was taken to a local shelter run by the Ministry of
Foreign Affairs in Kuwait. e shelter housed over 130 women of
different nationalities, most of whom had run away from their
employers, and a caseworker would visit and work with the women.
“ere, the shelter, it was ok, but like a prison. Not mu to do, eat
and sleep, and you can’t leave. And you are just siing there,
waiting and waiting,” added Fabian. e labor aaé from the
South African embassy came to visit her aer a few weeks and
observed Fabian’s worsening health. He told her that he was
working on finding her passport and resolving her paperwork so that
she could return to Madagascar. “He asked me if I am happy at the
shelter, but he can see that I’m geing more and more si. So he
calls Mama Lisa from the ur and she comes to take me to
another, beer place, in the ur, where I have doctors,” Fabian
said, pulling out a photograph of her siing in front of a decorated
Christmas tree inside a Kuwaiti apartment with four other African
women.
Fabian met several other women in similar situations at Mama
Lisa’s informal shelter, many who had been waiting months, even
years to return home. Aer six weeks, however, the South African
labor aaé came once again to visit her. He told her that he had
worked with the Ministry of Foreign affairs in Kuwait and had been
able to create an outpass for her and procure a tiet ba home2.
e Kuwaiti government paid for her tiet and also issued her a
e for ba pay that she had not received for many months.
“ey were so kind to me, the South Africans and the Kuwaitis, so
kind, they helped me to come home. ey were worried for me, you
know, because I’m si, so they really wanted to get me home,” she
recalled, happily.
When she arrived in Madagascar, however, she did not receive a
warm reception from the customs and immigration personnel at the
airport. Several policemen took her to a holding room and
questioned her for many hours. She was told that she had violated a
519
Malagasy law that prevents Malagasy citizens from migrating to
work in the Middle East. A police officer told Fabian that she could
face arrest and heavy fines for having violated the law. “But even
this police, he could see I am si, that I need help. So, thankfully, he
called my Pastor instead of arresting me. en my Pastor came and
took me to the ur, I am so luy,” she said. Fabian spent a week
living in the informal shelter at the ur in Antananarivo before
going home to her father who was now very ill. Fabian’s Pastor
arranged for her to have regular medical eups, but she could not
afford the medical care that her doctor prescribed.
Today, Fabian struggles to support her own and her father’s
medical bills. She is working with another survivor to open a
clothing shop in Tana and has successfully secured a loan from the
ur. Most importantly, Fabian’s case and the cases of six other
Malagasy women who migrated to Kuwait and faced abuse have
actually inspired the creation of a new human traffiing law draed
in August of 2014. Her return and her ability to narrate her story,
complete with the allenges posed by the agencies and her
employers as well as the help she received from embassy officials
and the Minister of Foreign Affairs in Kuwait, has forced the
Malagasy government to re-think their law. Rather than banning
women from migrating to the Middle East, the government now
seeks to regulate migration and to ensure the presence of Malagasy
officials in ea country where citizens may travel to work. Fabian is
currently working with her pastor and her fellow survivors to
influence the new law being draed by the Ministry of Justice that
will take into consideration their lived experiences and concerns.
e stories above reveal the complex interconnections between
sexual and reproductive rights, health, migrant labor, and the role of
the ‘state.’ e selective giving and withholding of sexual and
reproductive health services constitute an obvious violation of
human rights for intimate laborers in the Gulf. Both Nataly and
Fabian experienced violations of their human rights as a result of
520
various health interventions (or la thereof). But both women were
also able to navigate through these allenges—albeit with differing
results—through their encounters with different personifications of
the state. In this apter, I argue that the intersections of health and
human rights in the intimate lives of migrant laborers reveal
multiple layers of complexity in migrant encounters with the ‘state.’
Examining the contours of these migrant–state encounters allows for
an exploration of migrant subjectivity as well as transformations
within the ‘state.’ Looking at the impacts of migrants on the state
(not just vice versa) foregrounds the possibilities for anging the
human rights discourse around the intimate lives of laborers.
Conversations about intimate labor and human rights in the Gulf
tend to focus on the problematically reified issue of human
traffiing3. Currently, the dominant framing of human traffiing
focuses almost exclusively on the sex industry to the detriment of
sex workers and other types of migrant laborers alike. An increased
international focus on human traffiing, traced through Hollywood
films, journalistic exposés, corporate investment, and policies, has
hijaed the human rights discourse pertaining to migrant labor in
the Gulf. Instead of understanding the context of lived experiences,
the many layers of allenges that migrants in all industries face,
and the multiple roles of the ‘state,’ the current framework of human
traffiing constructs stark oppositional binaries: migrants vs. the
state, employers vs. employees, sex workers vs. other (intimate)
laborers. When this human rights discourse becomes equated to the
broader human rights discourse, it obscures more than it reveals. e
binaries listed above, and indeed the oppositional nature of the
discourse, crudely simplify multidimensional encounters and
decisions. Instead, lived experiences of both migrants and various
arms of the state tend to be more fluid. us, a similarly fluid human
rights discourse that anowledges the many layers of nuance is
needed in order to help migrants overcome the obstacles that they
do face. In particular, the arena of health and human rights can
521
illuminate the flexible role of the state and the possibilities for
ange that can come about from a modified human rights
framework less focused on moral panic and more grounded in lived
experience.
As one of my interlocutors asked me, “but who or what is the
state?” Rather than a monolithic, reified or static construction, the
state here can refer to the many different facets—human,
bureaucratic, and political—of operating power. When talking about
migrant encounters with the state, I’m referring to both home and
host countries, as I follow migrants through the cycles of
interactions they have with state actors, citizens, migrant networks,
and home communities. Rather than one monolithic entity that
affects all individuals the same, different individuals, citizens and
non-citizens, experience the state in a myriad of ways. Legal, formal,
or academic notions of the state differ from that whi migrants
experience at home and abroad. Various operators of the same state
can also work at odds with one another. While some operators of the
state may facilitate access to sexual and reproductive rights and
health (SRRH), others restrict and allenge migrants’ ability to
access SRRH and in some cases pose direct harm to their wellbeing.
Fabian experienced both tendencies. On one hand, her employer,
operating as her sponsor, made Fabian adhere to an unhealthy work
sedule, made decisions about Fabian’s body, and inflicted physical
harm. On the other hand, the Kuwaiti sponsored shelter and
caseworker gave Fabian space to recover and connected her with
resources that could provide more appropriate healthcare.
Both of the women whose stories began this apter faced
significant rights violations regarding sexual and reproductive
health. Nataly was imprisoned as a direct result of not being able to
access sexual health services. Fabian’s rights were violated as her
female employer forcefully injected her with contraceptives and
other unidentified substances. But academia and popular discourse
rarely examine the SRRH of migrant women in the Gulf. Intimate
522
labor tends to be the predominant lens of analysis through a
traffiing framework; however, the intimate lives of intimate
laborers reveal both obstacles to and possibilities for empowering
intimate laborers and advancing conversations about the human
rights of migrants in the Gulf.
Migrant women’s sexualities have been eclipsed both discursively
and politically, whi both corresponds and contrasts with the
hyper-regulation of women’s bodies and reproductive capacities.
Migrant women in the Gulf are contractually bound to celibacy.
Engaging in sexual activity (or even being suspected of engaging in
sexual activity), even if it does not result in visible pregnancy, is
grounds for termination, deportation, and oen incarceration.
Migrant women who become pregnant while in the Gulf are
immediately imprisoned and also arged with the crime of zina4.
Women face criminal arges for breaking their contracts and are
subject to heavy fines, and women who migrated illegally are
further subject to worse penalties when arrested for suspected sexual
activity. To compound their already precarious legal situations,
migrant women are also arged with the crime of zina, or sex
outside of marriage. Ziba Mir-Hosseini, in a powerful article entitled
“Criminalizing Sexuality: Zina Laws as Violence Against Women in
Muslim Contexts” (2010), outlines the ways in whi zina has been
used to regulate and criminalize female sexuality leading both to
physical and structural violence. In the case of migrant women in
the Gulf, the deployment of zina laws reinforces the regulation of
migrant women’s sexuality also codified through labor laws su as
the kefala system. Other solars have emphasized the structural
violence inherent in the kefala system5. But many women, even
those who migrate informally or abscond in order to circumvent the
kefala system, still experience the violence of discursive and political
regulation of their bodies. rough a combination of kefala and zina
laws, women are subject to what De Genova and Peutz term a
523
“deportation regime” wherein women’s deportability (deportation or
the possibility of forced removal) is tethered to their sexualities6.
Women are painted as hypersexual and in need of regulation both
discursively and legally. In sending countries, anxieties about
migrant women’s sexualities manifest in the form of rumors or the
emasculation of men who stay behind7. In receiving countries, laws
that criminalize migrant women’s sexualities respond to and
perpetuate discourses about the need to control migrant women
because of their sexualities. Frequently employers cite these
discourses as reasons for not allowing their female employees out of
the house unaccompanied. Female employers also perpetuate this
fear by categorizing migrant women as threats and seek to control
them through the regulation of their movements, activities, and
bodies. In response to these anxieties, laws and policies aim to strip
women of their sexualities by forcing celibacy and punishing
deviance8. Part of the punishment for many women entails forced
separation from their babies, as they are deemed immoral and
“unfit” to parent given their status as “criminals.” Many women are
forcibly deported without their babies.
Foucault’s notion of biopower helps describe the contours of the
lives of women, su as Nataly and Fabian, whose bodies are
managed by a whole host of actors within their home and host
states. In particular, biopower emphasizes a regulation of the
reproductive capacities of women, focusing on who can reproduce
and under what conditions. Biopower continues operating through
the bodies of female intimate laborers as the state (including, again,
how migrants experience the state through individuals like their
employers) regulates their movements, locales, and statuses, purely
because of their genealogy. Women workers experience regulation
from employers and state surveillance of their bodies as a source of
constraint. Mothers and ildren experience constraint as various
factions of the state exert biopolitical management semes to
control the existence of these “foreign” bodies within their borders.
524
In struggling to aain their SRRH, migrants work with and against
various arms of the state to allenge current legal frameworks and
look for new solutions. ese migrant–state encounters have the
possibility to provide a road map for a way forward in helping
migrant intimate laborers aieve their rights.
525
Regulate, discipline, punish
Migrant workers are oen subject to two, incongruent levels of
policing and disciplining. e first level involves state laws,
including labor laws (and la thereof) and the sponsorship or kefala
system. e second level of discipline comes from the kafeels or
sponsors themselves, who oen do not abide by state laws. Kafeels
take the form of large corporations or private employers in the
home, and while there are rules outlining humanitarian treatment of
workers, including laws against retaining passports and not
providing days off, many sponsors take it upon themselves to
discipline their employees. Many employees do not agitate for their
wages or report abuse out of fear of the harm that will come to their
families, deportation, or detention, and so these employers continue
to violate migrant workers’ rights, resulting in traffiing-like
experiences.
UAE and Kuwaiti laws regarding abortion and pregnancy outside
of marriage further complicate the situation for many workers. Even
though female domestic workers in particular do not have rights or
access to women’s health or family planning services, their
pregnancies can be cause for immediate termination of their
contracts and subsequent deportation. Islamic law as interpreted in
the GCC strictly prohibits abortion unless it is to save the life of the
mother or if the baby will be born with serious genetic defects and
likely will not survive.
Pregnancy outside of marriage is not permied. Although migrant
women who become pregnant while in the host country are
encouraged to return to their home countries to deliver their
ildren, if they can not finance their own return travel they may be
held in detention. Several of my interlocutors did not have their
526
passports or working papers, whi made returning home difficult.
Some women do not wish to return to their home countries for
reasons including fear of family stigma, fear of returning without
money to pay ba their family or their own debts, or a general
preference to remain abroad. In these cases, the women become
immediately undocumented, and their ildren are placed in a
precarious position. Women who are domestic workers are
imprisoned both for zina and brea of contract.
Tropes about race, class and gender as articulated in the UAE and
Kuwait are important in marginalizing or privileging migrant
workers and their narratives. Racial hieraries play a role in the
construction of local discourses about migrant women’s sexualities
and reproductive capabilities. State policies about reproduction and
family reunification for non-citizens reflect anxieties about migrant
women (especially women from certain socioeconomic bagrounds)
as mothers, fueled by concerns about demographics and racial
purity. As is clear from the language in the laws, unmarried migrant
workers are encouraged (and this encouragement is enforced) to
return to their home countries to have their ildren in order to
remain in accordance with Sharia law. Women who are pregnant
and wish to get married in-country are encouraged to do so but
many times are not able to retain their employment and/or cannot
live with their new spouses because living arrangements are oen
tied to employers. For married couples who are not citizens, the
criteria for filing for a residency permit for a baby are numerous and
accompanied by high costs and bureaucratic red tape. A close look at
the requirements reveals the allenges in aaining su a permit in
the case of tenuous relationships with employers/sponsors and the
allenges in procuring a passport for the baby. If these requirements
are not met, and the parents fail to file the necessary paperwork for
their newborn ild within 120 days of the birth, the ild will not be
permied to leave the country and the parents or legal guardian
527
must pay a fee of 100 AED (equivalent to $25 USD) for ea day over
the 120-day period.
In actuality, most women cannot finance their journeys home nor
are they always aware of laws pertaining to zina. Many are arrested
and imprisoned before they have a ance to file for paternity or
complete the necessary paperwork for their families. Navigating the
bureaucratic red tape of citizenship can be a triy process for many
women. Experiences vary at sending-country embassies. While some
women report receiving assistance at their embassies and procuring
white papers for their ildren to travel home with them, others
report no help and, in some cases, further incarceration. I personally
witnessed this when spending time at various embassies in Kuwait
and the UAE. While the embassy of the Philippines was invested in
providing assistance to migrant women and allowing them to
remain at their shelter with their ildren, the Indian embassy was
not able to provide mu assistance. To be fair, citizenship transfer
laws in the Philippines allow for ildren of Filipinas to become
citizens right away, thus facilitating the procurement of papers for
the women who were able to avoid or break out of incarceration.
e Indian labor aaé’s hands were tied because of home country
pressures not to extend citizenship benefits to the ildren of Indian
women who are deemed ‘immoral.’
Various arms of the state constantly survey women’s bodies,
sexualities, and reproductive capacities. In both home and host
countries, this surveillance takes the form of laws that contractually
bind female domestic workers to celibacy while they are abroad
(oen during their most fertile years) as well as laws permiing
employers to monitor their (female) employees’ health and sexual
activity. Discourses in home and host countries paint women as
hypersexual by influencing policies that curtail the movements of
migrant women inside and outside the home. Examples of these
discourses include those articulated by weary employers in the Gulf
who narrate their domestic workers as constant sexual threats inside
528
their homes. Many female employers assume promiscuity on the
part of their domestic workers, casting them as sexual predators, and
accusing them of seducing the various men in the household. Other
employers use narratives of domestic worker promiscuity and
hypersexuality to legitimate their decisions not to allow their
employees out of the house unaccompanied or denying them a
cellular phone. at women who are imported to perform intimate,
reproductive labor are excluded from reproducing themselves is also
a testament to Marxian analysis of alienation of the self.9 Migrant
women who are legally prohibited from reproducing while working
experience a type of immobilization of their intimate and family
lives whi sometimes corresponds with the physical immobility
that can result from violating these laws. Contractually sterilizing
intimate laborers in the Gulf, involving continuous healthcare
screenings and es, also opens the door to the possibility of
forced contraception, as was the case of Fabian.
Some migrants face allenges to their SRRH while abroad, but
receive assistance and support when they return home. Several of
my interviewees commented on the irony of a state that was not
invested in their rights before their migratory journeys, but they
were pleasantly surprised to see their home states seeking to meet
their needs. is is likely because different arms of the state act in
these different capacities; one arm of the state needs to send its
citizens abroad for remiances, while another arm of the state is
invested in protecting the rights of its citizens. When the question of
SRRH is brought to the fore, the home state in particular steps in to
help alleviate rights violations experienced by the migrant women
that it previously sent abroad with lile protection.
529
Conclusion: migrants, intimacy, SRRH, and
the state
Multiple layers of allenges and opportunities can be observed
when looking at interactions between migrants and the state with a
focus on SRRH. Legally, migrants are contractually sterilized, leading
to a simultaneous hypersexualization of female laborers and erasure
of their sexualities. How host countries operationalize these laws
and what can be observed in home country responses reveals mu
about the grey areas and room for possible movement and
strengthening of rights in this important area of migrant women’s
lives. e variability of employers and the willingness of hospital
staff, embassies, or informal NGOs to assist migrant women are
important aspects of subjectivity formation for migrant women. At
the same time, the transformations that take place at the state level—
in both sending and receiving countries—should not be overlooked.
e arena of SRRH may be an important intervention point wherein
sending countries can push for rights and reform for their citizens in
the Gulf. It is also an opportunity to highlight the intimate lives of
intimate laborers that are so oen eclipsed in narrow portraits of
their lives.
Migrants—both men and women—are transformed by their
experiences working in the Gulf. eir intimate lives and selves
ange, and they face both allenges and opportunities for
emotional, social, and economic mobility. But it is also important to
note the ways that migrants transform the states between whi
they move, particularly within the realm of SRRH. Sending country
officials may wish to lobby their governments to enact ange and
protect the SRRH of their citizens. Receiving country employers or
hospital staff may be open to safe guarding the SRRH of migrant
530
women, even if they are not invested in protecting other aspects of
their rights. e arena of SRRH presents an opportunity for dialogue
that incorporates, and even foregrounds, migrant women’s voices
and lived experiences, not just between sending and receiving
countries at the state level, but globally as well. ese micro
movements and spaces that can be observed in migrant–state
microcosms and encounters become the foundations for larger
conversations not only about SRRH but also about human rights at
large and should not be overlooked.
As my ethnographic resear has shown, the relationship between
sexual and reproductive rights, health, migrant labor, and the role of
the ‘state’ is both complex, and also anging in possibly positive
ways. It is true that many migrants experience violations of their
rights, particularly in the arena of SRRH, but it is also true that
many are also able to navigate through these allenges through
their encounters with different personifications of the state. e
intersections of health and human rights in the intimate lives of
migrant laborers reveal multiple layers of complexity in migrant
encounters with the ‘state’ and it is in these micro movements that
migrant subjectivity, and transformations of the state can be beer
understood. Most importantly, understanding the impacts of
migrants on the state (not just vice versa) foregrounds the
possibilities for anging the human rights discourse around the
intimate lives of laborers, a conversation that is mu needed and
can be a powerful agent for ange for migrants and states alike.
531
Notes
1 See the Freedom of Movement section of the U.S. Department of State’s 1993 Human
Rights Practices report on Madagascar. U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Democracy,
Human Rights, and Labor, Madagascar Human Rights Practices, 1993 (January 31, 1994).
Accessed May 15, 2014.
hp://dosfan.lib.uic.edu/ERC/democracy/1993_hrp_report/93hrp_report_africa/Madagas
car.html.
2 An “outpass” is essentially documentation that allows migrants to exit the host country
without their passports. ese are usually created by migrant’s own embassies, but in
this case, because there is no Malagasy embassy in Kuwait, the South African embassy
was able to step in and assist Fabian.
3 For more in-depth discussion of the production of moral panic, an idea drawn from the
work of Stanley Cohen, around human traffiing especially in the Gulf, please see
Mahdavi (2011 or 2013).
4 Zina is the act of unlawful sex outside of marriage, including both premarital and
extramarital sexual relations. is law is established within Sharia law, whi is a
religious and moral code followed and combined with secular law in the GCC and other
countries. Sharia law mandates two means of proving zina: either the person who
commied zina confess or four eyewitnesses testify. However, when an unmarried
woman becomes pregnant, her pregnancy can be used to prove that she has commied
zina. Laws on zina drastically affect migrant women because they are women and
generally la citizenship within the GCC. Many migrant women are married, but their
husbands reside in another country. e use of pregnancy to prove zina ignores issues
of rape within the workplace and denies women sexual autonomy. Because of these
issues, pregnancy is considered circumstantial proof and is hotly debated. Zina may not
be directly cited within secular law, but the combination of Shaira law and civil law
within judicial systems makes zina present. In the UAE, the Federal Penal Code includes
provisions of Sharia law. Article 345, on rape, states that anyone who uses coercion to
532
have sexual intercourse with a female or homosexual relations with a male will be
sentenced to the death penalty. is article does not make direct mention of zina but is
cited in relation to laws concerning sex outside of marriage. is would seem to protect
survivors of rape from being arged with zina, and if they are migrants, from being
deported. is law combined with the use of pregnancy to prove zina ignores the
nuance and situational power dynamics that occur especially within an
employer/employee relationship. e article also states that coercion will be considered
existent if the victim is below the age of fourteen.
5 See Gardner (2008) and Longva (1999).
6 Niolas De Genova and Natalie Peutz, eds., The Deportation Regime: Sovereignty,
Space, and the Freedom of Movement (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2010).
7 See Osella and Osella (2012).
8 See Ong (2006).
9 See Marx and Engels (1848).
533
Selected Bibliography
De Genova, Niolas and Nathalie Peutz eds. 2010. The Deportation
Regime: Sovereignty, Space, and the Freedom of Movement.
Durham, NC: Duke University Press.
Gardner, Andrew M. 2008. “Strategic transnationalism: e Indian
diasporic elite in contemporary Bahrain” in City & Society vol.
20, no. 1, 54–78. doi: 10.1111/j.1548-744X.2008.00005.x.
Government of Dubai. 2013. “Complying with marriage and
pregnancy laws.” The Official Portal of Dubai Government.
Dubai Smart Gov, Mar 6. Accessed February 26, 2015.
www.dubai.ae/en/Lists/Articles/DispForm.aspx?ID=27.
Hondagneu-Sotelo, Pierree. 2003. Gender and U.S. Immigration:
Contemporary Trends. Berkeley, CA: University of California
Press.
Longva, Anh Nga. 1999. “Keeping migrant workers in e: e
Kafala system in the Gulf” in Middle East Report vol. 211, 20–2.
Accessed September 4, 2016.
www.merip.org/mer/mer211/keeping-migrant-workers-e.
Mahdavi, Pardis. 2013. From Trafficking to Terror: Constructing a
Global Social Problem. London: Routledge.
Mahdavi, Pardis. 2011. Gridlock: Labor, Migration, and Human
Trafficking in Dubai. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.
Marx, Karl and Friedri Engels. 1967. The Communist Manifesto
(1848). Translated by A. J. P. Taylor. London: Penguin, trans.
Ong, Aihwa. 2006. Neoliberalism as Exception: Mutations in
Citizenship and Sovereignty. Durham, NC: Duke University
Press.
Osella, Caroline and Filippo Osella. 2012. “Migration, networks and
connectedness across the Indian Ocean.” In Migrant Labor in the
534
Persian Gulf, edited by Zahra Babar and Mehran Kamrava, 105–
36. New York: Columbia University Press.
Parreñas, Rhacel Salazar. 2008. The Force of Domesticity: Filipina
Migrants and Globalization. New York: New York University
Press.
U.S. Department of State, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and
Labor.
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