The failure of social science expectations that several Arab states would democratize in the 1980s and 1990s forced a reappraisal. The belief that chronic fiscal crisis and waning popular support would lead regimes to loosen authoritarian controls and thus possibly lead to democratization proved disappointingly unfounded. Instead, regimes that launched liberalizations in the 1980s reversed or halted most political-reform components in the following decade. Given that rising oil and commodity prices since 2003 have eased budgetary constraints for many states (especially in the Gulf), the emerging pattern is political change and shifts under authoritarian regimes over time, not democratization. A number of recent works have responded by quantitatively and qualitatively assessing factors that account for regional imperviousness to democratization as well as change in different directions. The purpose of this essay is to contribute to these responses in two ways: one, conceptualizing important change in state–society relations short of democratization; and two, comparatively analyzing the cases of Jordan, Kuwait, and Syria to propose ways of explaining these outcomes.

The aim of this essay is to analyse the rise and development of a new labour movement in Egypt between 1919 and 1939, the crucial interwar period. As the history of the movement was inextricably linked to the Wafd as well as to the competing political forces in Egypt at the time, I examine the extent to which the various political parties and personalities were able to hamper the development of an independent trade union movement during those years. I also discuss the factors which assisted or hindered, at times, the promulgation of labour laws, and view the achievements of the trade union movement (in different sub-periods) in terms of its success in satisfying the demands of workers, which were being opposed by those of the predominantly foreign local bourgeoisie.

The historiography of the Sanusiyya, if one can apply such a term to the literary crop of roughly a century dealing with this North African tarīqa (pl. turuq, Sufi brotherhood), falls into three distinct categories. The earliest writings appeared in the 1880s, thirty years after the tariqa had taken root in Cyrenaica (then the Ottoman province of Benghazi). The works of French authors such as Charmes, Rinn, Duveyrier, Le Chatelier, and co-authors Depont and Coppolani were all marked by the concerns of the French colonial and protectorate authorities in Algeria and Tunisia. According to Duveyrier, a Saharan explorer of repute and the crudest exponent of this group's views, not only were the Sanusis a band of fanatics given to murdering innocent missionaries and explorers, but they were also in the vanguard of the turuq inspired by the Pan-Islamic rhetoric of the Ottoman sultan and aligned against French colonialism in Muslim North Africa. Only this combination of factors could account for the pervasive and determined resistance to French policies in the region. Along with the Sanusiyya, Duveyrier singled out for attack a North African sheikh and confidant of the Ottoman sultan, Muhammad Zafir al-Madani. Charmes, Rinn, Le Chatelier, and Depont and Coppolani, while less vitriolic in their tone, certainly had the same general approach. The analysis of this “Algerian school” was dismissed at the turn of the century by two eminent Orientalists, Christiaan Snouck Hugronje and Carl Heinrich Becker.3 A generation later, European fears of the turuq diminished in the wake of World War I, as new ideologies and forces came to dominate a transformed Pan-Islamism. This notwithstanding, some of the suppositions of the early French authors were adopted by later scholars and have since been quoted and requoted.

We are thrilled to present this special issue on “Queer Affects,” which explores a range of topics and analytical approaches that have rarely appeared in the pages of IJMES but reflect vital emerging discussions in diverse subfields of Middle East studies. That so many contributors hail from literary disciplines, which have tended to be underrepresented in the journal, also makes this a landmark issue for us. We thank guest editors Hanadi Al-Samman and Tarek El-Ariss for proposing the special issue, gathering the original collection of manuscript submissions, and introducing the final group of six articles we present here, all of which have gone through the standard IJMES peer review process. We also acknowledge the anonymous reviewers, some of whom read more than one article for this issue, for their perceptive evaluations. We are grateful to Huda Lufti for permitting us to use a photograph of her artwork, “Lipstick and Moustache (2010),” as this issue's cover art.

Studies of economic activities among the urban poor in various parts of the world have found more variation in the so-called informal sector than they had expected. The urban poor had typically been thought of as a kind of “reserve army” for the formal sector, an underclass at the margins of survival. Even early work that recognized the links between the formal and informal sectors lumped them together as a single class that ranked below all the others. The tendency to regard workers in the informal sector as members of an underclass masked the tremendous variations among them and between informal sectors in different places.

During those eventful days of early January 1979, after Shah Mohammad Reza Pahlavi of Iran had finally announced his intention to leave the country and the revolutionary leader Ayatollah Khomeini had made his return from exile contingent on the shah's departure, a hemistitch by Hafez, the 14th-century Persian poet, suddenly appeared next to an array of revolutionary slogans on display in the streets of Tehran: “Div cho birun ravad fereshteh dar āyad” (When the demon departs, the angel shall arrive). The basic binary oppositions of demon/angel and departure/arrival fit the realities of the situation the country had found itself in; a perfect correspondence had been made between the simple, single idea enshrined in the abstract language of a medieval poetic phrase and the intricate political posturing involved in a modern-day revolution in the making. Furthermore, the stark discourse of antagonism underlying the opposition had become as absolute, as uncompromising as the idea of a total revolution.

In the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries there were a number of armed attempts by people in the Arab world, and particularly in the Maghrib countries, to resist European penetration and colonialism. Historians have made considerable efforts to categorize these attempts as being either examples of ‘primary’ resistance or of ‘modern nationalist’ resistance, a distinction based largely on the presence or absence in the movement concerned of an ideological content making reference to the various Islamic reform movements or to European-style nationalism. Thus Edmund Burke can write of the rebellion in the Moroccan countryside around Fez in 1911, which finally ushered in the French and Spanish Protectorates: “One looks in vain, for example, for evidence of the influence of reformism, Pan-Islam or Islamic modernism upon the movement.”

The Democratic Republic of the Sudan was among the first of nonsovereign territories in Africa to obtain its independence from European political control. Formerly under the joint sovereignty of Britain and Egypt it became independent on January 1, 1956. Since its declaration of independence, Sudan has experienced three major self-proclaimed revolutions, and the format of government has twice changed between parliamentary democracy and military regimes. As of this writing, the current government under General Jaʻafar el-Numayri has been in power longer than any of its predecessors. General Numayri's success in ending the sixteen-year-old civil war between north and south has bolstered his position as head of state. Consequently, this success and at least three other factors have induced the world to pay considerable attention to Sudan.

Among the late Ottoman thinkers and writers who laid the foundations of intellectual life in modern Turkey, Filibeli Ahmed Hilmi (1865–1914) is a prominent figure. His intellectual legacy survived the destruction of the Ottoman Empire and the founding of the Republic of Turkey. Virtually all his books have been republished in recent years in simplified modern Turkish versions accessible to present-day readers, and some have also been the subject of academic studies. His oeuvre includes dozens of historical, philosophical, theological, and political works, as well as novels, poems, satirical pieces, and plays. All were produced in a six-year period, between the Young Turk Revolution of 1908 and his death by poisoning in 1914. The overtly modernist underpinnings of his works on the one hand, and his Sufi piety and firm rejection of materialism and positivism on the other, have earned him recognition as an early exponent of a modernist, nonliteralist Islamic agenda of a kind that has been conspicuous in a variety of Turkish-Islamic movements in recent decades. His untimely death, later attributed to a Freemason–Zionist conspiracy, added further to his mystique in some Islamic circles. Modernist yet deeply devout, Islamist yet uninterested in scripturalist paths of religious revival, Ahmed Hilmi stands out as a representative of an important intellectual trend that has often been overlooked in studies of the late Ottoman period.

The July 2006 Lebanon war was an important turning point for West African Lebanese. For the first time since their formation as a community, the Lebanese in Senegal organized a demonstration in Dakar displaying solidarity with Lebanon. This protest illuminates the dynamics between global forces and local responses. Hizbullah's effectiveness in winning the international public opinion of both Sunni and Shiʿi Muslims in the war against Israel led to a surge in Lebanese diaspora identification, even among communities who had not been similarly affected by previous Lebanese wars. By analyzing the role of a Lebanese shaykh in bringing religious rituals and a Lebanese national identity to the community in Senegal, this article explores how members of the community maintain political ties to Lebanon even when they have never visited the “homeland” and sheds new light on the relationship among religion, migration, and (trans)nationalism.

As far as I am concerned I remember that the first elements of Arab consciousness began to filter into my mind as a student in secondary schools, wherfrom I went out with my fellow schoolboys on strike on December 2nd [sic] of every year as a protest against the Balfour declaration whereby England gave the Jews a national home usurped unjustlu from its legal owners.

My thoughts on the Internet were recently jogged by an experience with a slightly older medium, namely, satellite television. In late March 2007 I attended the Third Annual Al-Jazeera Forum, in Doha. Notwithstanding the attendance of a few academics like me, the forum was largely a networking opportunity for professional journalists, just as MESA is for professional Middle East studies academics. However, unlike MESA, forum presenters, as well as the audience, were handpicked. Even the expenses of the attendees were subsidized (my hotel bill was paid by al-Jazeera). This inevitably made the event an exercise in open self-promotion for al-Jazeera.

Discovering the mechanisms that invested particular forms with meaning and created Islamic systems of signification is of major concern in the study of Islamic architecture. Although we know that these mechanisms exist, and that they produce meanings as complex as those of other cultural traditions, we do not yet know how they operate or even how they were manipulated at specific moments in response to particular aesthetic or practical needs. These mechanisms were most critical at the earliest stage of the Islamic architectural tradition, when forms were often taken over from a variety of contexts but transformed in ways that altered their cultural associations and re-created them as patently Islamic. This creative process is exemplified by that most Islamic—and problematic—architectural feature, the mihrab.

The prevailing perception within the academy, policy circles, and the media inside and outside Iran has been that the members of bazaars are a unified social class engaged in a symbiotic relationship with the political elite of the Islamic republic and the conservative faction in particular. This approach is largely built on the perspective that there is a historic predilection for bāzārīs and clerics to cooperate (“mosque–bazaar alliance”), and thus ideological compatibility and familial ties between the clergy and bāzārīs have continued and developed into an alliance under the current regime headed by segments of the clergy. For instance, one of the leading experts on 20th-century Iran, Nikki Keddie, comments that, despite Mohammad Khatami's reformist agenda, “the ruling elite, who represent an alliance between the commercial bazaar bourgeoisie and conservative clerics, resist giving up their economic privileges as they do their political ones.”

The post-1948 mass migration of Jews from Arab Muslim countries to Israel is widely seen by scholars as a direct result of decolonization and rising nationalism across the Middle East and North Africa, coupled with the emigration and immigration policies of regional powers. In this article I draw on local histories of northern Morocco to critique the existing literature. I apply new methods to reconceptualize that migratory experience as shaped by social and cultural processes, albeit ones that interacted with nationalist state policies. I provide a multilayered macro- and microanalysis of the process of Jewish emigration from northern Morocco and point to the transregional, interpersonal, communal, and institutional networks that jointly shaped the dynamic character and pace of migration to Israel (and to Europe and the Americas) among local Jews.

Anthropological interest in the concept of “class” and in the constellation of related concepts such as class consciousness and class conflict has increased in recent years as part of the upsurge of interest in ideas drawn from the Marxist tradition to analyze and interpret societies that anthropologists have conventionally been interested in. Yet much of this research and thinking has focused on the relevance of the different modes of production for an understanding of cultural history or, more recently, on analyses derived from dependency theory suggesting a global application of the notions of class and class conflict. Both these approaches neglect the usefulness of notions of class derived from the Marxist tradition for providing frameworks for the gathering of anthropological field data or for its analysis. It is true that work in cultural ecology and economic anthropology has frequently had a materialist bias, but it has rarely gone beyond an emphasis on the links of causality running from material factors to the superstructure to a test of the concepts of the Marxist tradition as a model increasing our understanding of the ebb and flow of human life. Even rarer has been the use of anthropological field data to evaluate and refine the concepts themselves.

This article explores how the Great Depression in 1929 led to the expansion of illicit circuits globally, and examines the ways in which the introduction of anti-smuggling campaigns came to consolidate the border regimes in Turkey and French Syria. The global economic downturn in the late 1920s led states to embrace protectionist measures such as heightened tariffs and import quotas, all designed to protect local industries and maintain a favorable trade balance. The introduction of such measures, however, often resulted in the emergence of highly profitable illicit circuits, including in the borderland between Turkey and Syria. Here, a sturdy coalition of producers, shop owners, smugglers, trackers, and peddlers began to smuggle into Turkey a range of goods from silk textiles to cigarette papers, while funneling out narcotics into Syria. By seeking the global trajectories of such commodity flows, this article examines the impact of these borderland mobilities on the making of Turkey's southern border by exploring the local and bureaucratic responses to a rapidly changing world economic order in the aftermath of the Great Depression.

Among the results of recent scholarly interest in the “World-Systems” perspective has been a revival of the debate concerning the origins of capitalism and the modern world economy. Despite the fact that the World-Systems approach at times seems as Eurocentric as some of the theories it purports to oppose, since the origins and “core” developments of both mercantilism and capitalism are considered to have been uniquely rooted in the socioeconomic experience of early modern Europe, it nonetheless offers historians the promise of studying social structural and economic changes in non-Western societies without recourse to the value judgments and prejudices implicit in models of development that employ such terms as “traditional society,” “underdevelopment,” or “modernization.” By demonstrating that market and productive forces external to a particular regional economy and social system can intrude upon that system, dominate it, and eventually stimulate its transformation, thus creating wider changes in intrasocietal social relations, the World-Systems model has the potential of offering a conceptual point of departure of great value to students of social change in regions other than Europe during the early modern era.

In late 1931, German sexologist and gay-rights activist Magnus Hirschfeld, quoted above, visited Palestine for a lecture tour that attracted hundreds in Tel Aviv, Jerusalem, Haifa, and kibbutz Beit Alfa. By this time, the Jewish settlers' community (or Yishuv) in Mandate Palestine had already been exposed to the science of sexology and to the reform movement it inspired. Sexual-hygiene manuals had been translated into Hebrew and Yiddish in both Tel Aviv and Warsaw. Hebrew readers had access, for example, to translations of Auguste Forel's Sexual Ethics and Max Hodann's A Boy and a Girl. Finally, in the fall and winter of 1931–32, three sex consultation centers were opened in Tel Aviv.

Around the mid-19th century, the cigarette, the latest fashion in tobacco consumption, gained popularity in Egypt, as it did globally and throughout the Ottoman Empire. Some fifty years later, the cigarette had become the predominant smoking preference in Egypt, and luxury Egyptian cigarettes were being exported around the world. Indeed, Egyptian and Turkish brands played a significant role in introducing cigarettes to different parts of the globe and thus in shaping world cigarette production. This article sets out to tell the fascinating story of the luxury Egyptian cigarette and uses this case to reflect on the development of modern markets in Egypt.