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By the summer of 2017 most Libyans and non-Libyans alike had lost confidence that the constitutional process in that country would lead anywhere. The Constitution Drafting Assembly (CDA) had only a bare minimum of legitimacy to begin with given the low turnout rate in the elections. When it started working in 2014, the CDA was legally bound to complete the draft within a few months but suffered a large number of delays. The drafting process was paralyzed for long stretches of time, including because of basic security concerns. Drafters could not meet, some were under threat, and prospects for organizing further CDA meetings (let alone reaching an agreement) were growing dimmer by the day.
In late 2019 hundreds of thousands of Iraqis took to the streets in response to decades of high level corruption, massive youth unemployment, dysfunctional public services, and abusive treatment by the security services. In their view, the state and the constitutional system that underpinned it were collapsing. In a clear sign of their sense of marginalization from the state, the most common popular slogan carried by protesters communicated a simple demand, “I want a nation.”1 A civil disobedience campaign was organized lasting months. Central squares were occupied in more than a dozen cities. Universities and schools were forced to close their doors. Protesters made a number of demands, including a new electoral system and early elections, which many hoped would lead to much of the country’s corrupt and inept ruling class being replaced by better quality lawmakers. Many protesters considered that constitutional reform should take place if and when early elections based on a new electoral system were carried out.
Territorial Consolidation: Prior to the nineteenth century, the territory that is today part of the state of Yemen was not subject to centralized rule. The Ottoman Empire had established a presence in most of the territory in the sixteenth century only to be expelled a century later, after which most of the country’s regions were subject to their own local administration (some of which withdrew inward, while others became important international trading centers).1 The process of centralizing authority in Yemen, albeit in two separate territories each subject to its own administration, began in the first half of the nineteenth century. In 1839 the British Empire seized control of the southern port of Aden, and gradually expanded its authority to include other territories around Aden. In 1849 the Ottoman Empire had reestablished its presence over much of the remainder of Yemen’s territory, including the northern highlands and Sana’a city (which was eventually to become the capital of a united Yemen). These two territories slowly consolidated inwardly over a period of decades, much of which was marked by armed revolts against foreign rule. They both also introduced their own respective legal systems, while making sure to adapt to the local context.2
Ottoman Period: Prior to the nineteenth century, much of the territory that today makes up the modern Jordanian state was only sparsely populated and was not subject to formal governance rules. Tribes, many of which were grouped together in confederacies, controlled much of the territory and applied tribal law.1 During the nineteenth century, in response to growing military threats from European powers, the Ottoman Empire sought to broaden its tax base and the numbers of potential recruits it could draw from during times of conflict. The empire therefore expanded its geographic reach, including in the territory east of the Jordan river. New settlements were established, the area under cultivation was expanded, and modern governance frameworks were introduced. This included, among other things, the introduction of districting and the election of local representatives to a range of local councils; of taxation: and of commercial and criminal codes.2 Security for the general population improved during this period, as did agricultural output and overall economic activity, which attracted merchants from across the region. Ottoman authorities also moved to coopt powerful tribes into the new governance framework. Tribal leaders assumed office in the new administrative system that was being established, which translated into access to funds and further enhanced their influence.3 Jordan’s experience under the Ottoman period was therefore defined by the imposition of policies that were formulated without any local input, which depended in part on the cooptation of influential families into local government.4 The system brought unequal benefits to the local population, a situation that continues to this day.
Iraq was once a wealthy country but its population has been run into the ground due to a series of catastrophically bad policy decisions that were fueled by an absence of accountability. By October 2019, Hundreds of thousands of poor and marginalized Iraqis were in the streets taking major risks to life and limb to demand change. Three different high level committees were established to propose amendments to the constitution in ways that addressed the protesters’ demands. One evening in late December 2019, as one of the committees prepared to meet in a conference room in a key government institution’s offices, they found that the committee chairman (a senior government official) was engaged in conversation with a small group of individuals. They were protesters who had been brought in to the government department by a third party to describe how they had been kidnapped and tortured by the security services. One of the three dominated the conversation. He spoke fluidly and without hesitation on why he supported the protests, including rampant poverty and unemployment. He described how he was targeted by masked men who detained and tortured him for weeks while they tried to make him sign a statement confirming that he would not participate in any future protests. He refused to sign and was released after contacts mobilized support within the ministry on his behalf. He seemed strong, fearless, and full of integrity. The committee members listened to his account respectfully until he and his fellow protesters excused themselves and left. The committee commenced its session and discussed a number of issues, including how the judiciary’s performance could be improved. Two hours later, the chairman called a break. The members moved to another room where dinner was waiting. As soon as they started the meal, a committee member who was also a senior government adviser said “you know, despite it all, Iraqis can’t complain. The constitution really does serve them well.”
From 2011 to 2012 every day brought a new development to Egypt’s transition, new statements, positions, laws, arrangements, and protests. The Muslim Brotherhood and other Islamists understood that it would be in their interest for there to be an election as soon as possible. Their popularity was strong, as was their capacity to organize an electoral campaign, while their competitors had very little appeal. On the other hand, the Brotherhood expressed concern that if they were to dominate politics too soon, the international community and other forces would move to undermine them. It was for this reason that, at first, the Brotherhood sought to allay any concerns by announcing that its newly founded Freedom and Justice Party would only contest half the seats in parliament and would not contest the presidential elections. However, closer to the time, the Party reversed itself and with its other Islamist allies won close to 80 percent of the seats in parliament and won the presidency as well. The Islamists nevertheless continued to seek to reassure the international community that it would not seek to dominate politics through a number of means, including the constitutional process. After the Assembly’s second iteration was finally established, a senior member of the judiciary was elected president and a well-known liberal politician was appointed rapporteur. Interventions at the Assembly’s opening session called for consensus between all members. Just as importantly, leading members of the Brotherhood were messaging to the international community in private meetings that they were striving to achieve the support of at least 80 percent of the population. “If we cannot achieve eighty per cent at first, we will keep working and will not complete the process until that is achieved,” a leading member said. “This isn’t an election, it’s a constitution. It has to be acceptable to everyone.”
Prior to 2011 my professional and personal interests were narrowly focused on a small number of issues, including Iraq. Countries such as Tunisia were relatively unknown to me. While I had many opportunities to visit, I reasoned that my family had not fled one dictatorship for me to go holidaying in another. My first visit to the country therefore took place in May 2011 while the transitional authorities were still considering how the new constitution should be drafted. I met with a large number of individuals who generously shared their views on the options that were in consideration at the time. A prominent human rights activist who was a member of the High Commission to Achieve the Goals of the Revolution, on Political Reforms and Democratic Transition said to me that he did not expect the drafting of a new constitution to be difficult. “Tunisia is one of the world’s most homogeneous countries,” he said. “We do not have any important ethnic or religious minorities and we hardly have any disagreements. 95% of our population is Arab, Muslim, Sunni and of the Maliki school.”1 He ended with a comment that struck me as curious: “In my view, the new constitution should be around ninety articles long.” The comment seemed futile given that a single article could range from just a few words in length to several pages but I did not question him on that point considering the amount of other issues that were on the table. None of my other interlocutors during that short visit mentioned the length of the future constitution, and so I did not make anything of it at the time.
Ottoman Period: From the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries, Tunisia was administered as a semi-autonomous province of the Ottoman Empire. Similarly to Algeria, in the seventeenth century, local officers increased their own powers without authorization from the central government. They established the post of “bey,”who became the territory’s most important source of authority. The bey governed the territory through a familiar administrative framework. He maintained public order, collected taxes, and established a government that included four leading ministers, including a prime minister, a treasurer, a commander-in-chief, and a secretary. During the nineteenth century, the bey launched a campaign to modernize the country. A standing army was established, locals were recruited into the bureaucracy, and tax reform was enacted. The country fell into considerable debt, which allowed the United Kingdom and France to impose significant legal reforms. At the same time, significant numbers of Tunisia’s own elite were demanding that the state adopt more modern methods of policy formation and some means of accountability.1
Early Constitutionalism: During much of the nineteenth century, Egypt formally remained part of the Ottoman Empire, but enjoyed significant autonomy. It was ruled as an absolute monarchy by its own local dynasty, had its own bureaucracy and armed forces, but was not an independent state recognized under international law. In 1866 a consultative chamber consisting entirely of notables was established. The chamber was not formally established as a separate branch of government and did not exercise any oversight over the executive.1
International Support for Independence: The territory that today makes up the Libyan state was captured by the Ottoman Empire in 1551. Much like the rest of the Empire’s north African possessions, by the beginning of the eighteenth century, locals eventually achieved significant autonomy from Istanbul. By the 1830s, however, members of the ruling dynasty were at war with each other, causing Ottoman troops to reimpose direct control over the territory in 1835 in order to preempt any European designs over it. The Empire applied the law of provincial administration in the territory, which eventually allowed the establishment of a municipality as an administrative unit. By the 1870s, several urban centers had local advisory councils that were responsible for overseeing public works. The country remained poor in comparison to other North African territories, but by the start of the twentieth century, commercial centers, courts, and other institutions had been established and had contributed to the emergence of a local elite.1
Protests and Reform: Ten years ago, millions of protesters in over a dozen Middle Eastern and North African countries took to the streets to demand radical change. In many cases, their purpose was to force longstanding dictators from office and to establish a democracy. In others, they demanded reform and clear action against corruption. Each country set a path of its own, but if there was one point of agreement between all actors it was that constitutional reform was an absolute necessity. What followed was the greatest concentration of constitutional reform efforts in the world since the end of the Cold War. Through this process, twelve out of the region’s twenty countries either replaced their constitutions or amended them within just a few years, some more than once. In some countries, dictators who were about to be toppled promised constitutional reform, before ultimately ceding power to allow others to manage that process on their own. In others, chief executives organized constitutional reform efforts themselves, always carefully framing the scope of reform to a few limited issues. In addition, at least two other countries were deeply impacted by the protest movement and seriously contemplated constitutional reform efforts of their own.
Over the past forty years, countries in the Global North have increasingly restricted their migration policies to reduce the arrival of migrants. As part of this, development aid has become a central tool in the migration control strategy pursued by European countries and the US, with donors, International Organisations and NGOs becoming prominent actors. In this book, Lorena Gazzotti shows that migration control is not only exercised through fences and deportation. Building on extensive research in Morocco, Gazzotti shows that aid marks the rise of a substantially different mode of migration containment, one where power works beyond fast violence, and its disciplinary potential is augmented precisely by its elusiveness. Where existing studies on border externalisation have essentialised donors, International Organisations and NGOs, with countries of 'origin' and 'transit' as compliant subcontractors, and border control as a neat form of intervention, this nuanced study unsettles such assumptions, to show that bordering happens in everyday, mundane fashions, far away from the spectacle of border violence. This title is also available as open access on Cambridge Core.
Amidst ongoing wars and insecurities, female fighters, politicians and activists of the Kurdish Freedom Movement are building a new political system that centres gender equality. Since the Rojava Revolution, the international focus has been especially on female fighters, a gaze that has often been essentialising and objectifying, brushing over a much more complex history of violence and resistance. Going beyond Orientalist tropes of the female freedom fighter, and the movement's own narrative of the 'free woman', Isabel Käser looks at personal trajectories and everyday processes of becoming a militant in this movement. Based on in-depth ethnographic research in Turkey and Iraqi Kurdistan, with women politicians, martyr mothers and female fighters, she looks at how norms around gender and sexuality have been rewritten and how new meanings and practices have been assigned to women in the quest for Kurdish self-determination. Her book complicates prevailing notions of gender and war and creates a more nuanced understanding of the everyday embodied epistemologies of violence, conflict and resistance.
No insurgent movement can survive without some degree of popular support, but what does it mean to support an armed group? Focusing on the PKK (Kurdistan Workers Party), which has come to global attention in recent years for its efforts in resisting ISIS in Iraq and Syria, but has been present and active in the region for much longer, Francis O'Connor explores the first three decades of the PKK's insurgency in Turkey. Looking at how the relationship between armed groups and their supporters should be conceptually understood, how this relationship varies spatially and what role violence has in their relationship, he draws on Civil War, Social Movements and Rebel Governance literatures to outline how the PKK survived a military coup in 1980 and slowly won popular support through incipient forms of rebel governance, the targeted use of violence and a nuanced projection of its ideology and objectives. In doing so, it provides an historical narrative to an organisation which has managed to successfully resist NATO's second largest army with limited weapons for decades and has become a key player of Kurdish rights in the wider region.
In this book, Hedi Viterbo radically challenges our picture of law, human rights, and childhood, both in and beyond the Israel/Palestine context. He reveals how Israel, rather than disregarding international law and children's rights, has used them to hone and legitimize its violence against Palestinians. He exposes the human rights community's complicity in this situation, due to its problematic assumptions about childhood, its uncritical embrace of international law, and its recurring emulation of Israel's security discourse. He examines how, and to what effect, both the state and its critics manufacture, shape, and weaponize the categories 'child' and 'adult.' Bridging disciplinary divides, Viterbo analyzes hundreds of previously unexamined sources, many of which are not publicly available. Bold, sophisticated, and informative, Problematizing Law, Rights, and Childhood in Israel/Palestine provides unique insights into the ever-tightening relationship between law, children's rights, and state violence, at both the local and global levels.