Research on the social strata that made up Ottoman society is still very much in its beginnings; extensive studies on the peasantry, the bureaucracy, the ‘ulemâ and others will have to be undertaken before any far-reaching conclusions can be drawn. This study focuses on the 'ulemâ of the late sixteenth century, their social composition and mobility within the hierarchy. Materials dealing with the 'ulemâ are more easily accessible than those dealing with other segments of the grup that governed the Ottoman empire, because, as in most other Islamic cultures, there was a great deal of contemporary interest in the lives of poets and learned men.

Drawing on contemporary history and empirical research, this article revises traditional rentier state theory, which fails to account for the existence of Islamist movements in states accruing substantial outside wealth. Rentier state theory expects that citizens of such states will form opposition blocs only when their stake in rent income is threatened. Examining the development of Muslim Brotherhood affiliates in two archetypal rentier states, or super-rentiers, in the Gulf—Qatar and the United Arab Emirates—this article shows that ideology rather than rent motivated the formation of independent Islamist movements. This research helps to break the causal link established by rentier state theory between oil rents and lack of politically relevant Islamist organizations. We find that the presence of oil rents, instead of rendering Islamist complaint politically irrelevant, shapes the ways in which Islamist movements seek to influence government policies.

The 18th-century European Enlightenment championed rational philosophy and scientific methodology, rather than any form of traditional theology, as the way to understand the objective truth.1 In their quest for the fundamental truth, France's philosophes, the rational and anticlerical intellectuals of the Age of Reason, were forced to brave official censorship, persecution, and imprisonment as they disentangled themselves from their Christian heritage. Thus, the French Enlightenment was informed by a dualistic view of history—an ongoing contest between reason and faith. Although faith had gained ascendancy with Christianity's triumph over classical antiquity in the late 3rd and 4th centuries, according to the philosophes, many of whom served as key contributors to the Encyclopédie, religion and science had once again joined battle in the 18th century, this time with science and reason poised to overcome religious irrationality.2 In this context, the renowned philosophe Voltaire, in his highly controversial Dictionnaire Philosophique (1764), attacks Christian dogma, refutes the tenet of Christ's divine nature, and rejects the possibility of miracles as running contrary to all scientific evidence.3 Similarly, in Système de la Nature (1770), another philosophe, d'Holbach, deplores man's pursuit of the chimeras of religious revelation and refusal to engage in rational methods of inquiry.4 The arguments of Voltaire and d'Holbach are just two examples of the French Enlightenment tenet that knowledge can be based only on science and reason.

In the course of a visit to Libya in 1964, the writer was informed by the Archivist at the Libyan Government Archives in Tripoli, Sayyid Muhammad al-Usta, of the existence of Ottoman documents in Istanbul concerning a sixteenth-century embassy to Turkey from the West African state of Bornu.

The problematic status of the historical urban core raises analogous questions for city planners in cities otherwise as diverse as Paris, Istanbual, or Mexico City. In the case of medinas of the Islamic world the historical core is less the site of monuments pertaining to our common heritage than it is a discrete part of the urban fabric which, while adapting somewhat to larger milieu, still stands apart as a striking testament to a peculiarly local way of life.

While the idea that Saudi Arabia has functioned as a beacon of ultraconservative religious influence since the 1970s oil boom is commonplace, the modalities of this influence have rarely been seriously interrogated. As a window onto this issue, this article considers the history of the Islamic University of Medina, an influential Wahhabi missionary project with global ambitions. It pays particular attention to the role played by non-Saudi staff, who for long periods made up a majority of the university's faculty. Previous accounts of migrants working in Saudi religious educational institutions have tended to focus on the contested question of their contribution to the rise of politically activist modes of Islamism within the kingdom. In contrast, the account offered here draws on the concept of spiritual capital to argue that they also played an important part in legitimizing the expansion of the Wahhabi mission to diverse Muslim communities around the world.

In the analysis of the transition from low-income, rural-centered, capital-poor countries to modern, capital-rich, urbanized nations, small enterprises have received increasing attention in recent years. In rural areas, there is a belated recognition of the importance of nonfarm enterprises as supplementary sources of income and employment in village households. In towns and cities, there has been an explosion of interest in small producers, including but not limited to the so-called urban informal sector.

What has been called the Revolution of 1952 was not really a revolution; a revolution should start from the bottom, not the top. The 1919 Revolution was different; it created the Egyptian man, while the 1952 revolution killed him. The 1919 Revolution … achieved … the British evacuation, while the 1952 revolution brought with it several defeats. The leaders and members of the 1919 Revolution faced torture in prisons, while the leaders of the 1952 revolution built palaces with money from secret sources and sent hundreds of people to military prisons.

At a time when the history of relations between the United States and the former Iranian regime (as well as other autocratic states) is being reconsidered, it is important to recognize that U.S. support for one-man rule in Iran did not commence in 1953 subsequent to the fall of the government of Dr. Mossadegh. A study of the diplomatic records of the U.S. State Department and the British Foreign Office indicates an earlier beginning.

Social scientists have studied small-scale manufacturers both on a theoretical and on a regional basis relative to their occupational prestige, values, way of life, and political affiliations. Lately, this topic has also been of interest to international lending institutions that have adopted policies that promote small-scale firms in less-developed countries. Part of the reason for the change in policy stems from the inefficient production of large-scale firms and their disappointing performance in reducing unemployment. Some of the studies have found small- scale firms to be more efficient in inputs. Small-scale firms are viewed as generating needed employment opportunities in countries that face pressures of fast-growing labor force populations.

In modern Iraq, processes of state formation and national integration have been consistently affected by a number of ethnic issues and concerns. This became particularly evident in the decade after the country became independent from British Mandatory control in 1932. First, in the immediate postcolonial period ethnicity became central to the development of Iraqi national and international politics. Second, ethnic specificity emerged as a major factor in the shaping of postcolonial Iraqi society, despite the continuous attempts at enforcing a new national identity on the part of a still fragile state. This article discusses the important role played by ethnicity during the first stages of Iraqi national development by focusing on the impact of conscription on the Yazidi Kurds of Jabal Sinjar.

The history of Oman is largely a story of competition, and often conflict, between two very different entities. This duality was even symbolized by the name of the country, “Sultanate of Muscat and Oman,” until 1970. The sultanate was formed from the fusion of the Batina coastal plain and its port cities, symbolically Muscat, and the interior of the country, Oman. During most periods in the recent history of the country, only the coast has been ruled by the sultan. Even before the institution of the sultanate emerged in the 18th century, however, the coast had usually been under separate, often foreign, rule. In the interior, the ideal head of government from very early times was that of an imam, even though the office often remained vacant. At many times during Omani history, of course, one part of the country or the other imposed its control and Oman was temporarily united, but the differences between the two sections of Omani society eventually split the country into two separate states again. Even within the last decade, one of the major problems in Oman's efforts to develop has been “the traditional antithesis between the sultan residing on the coast and the inwardly oriented tribes.”

This article explores the ways in which refugee and host experiences of displacement in Jordan between 2010 and 2013 were articulated in a socioeconomic register that coincided with, but was also independent of, both state biopower and historical cross-border regionalisms. I argue that this register became salient due to a shared understanding of everyday life as characterized by what I term hunger, a state of depredation where “people eat people” to attain their own well-being. In pursuing this argument, the article has two goals: to show how Iraqis and Jordanians negotiated the complexities of living together in hunger by censuring individuals—locals and foreigners, rich and poor—who contributed to producing hunger rather than to alleviating it, and by consciously resisting the corrosive effects of hunger on social relations; and, more generally, to challenge universalizing understandings of refugee experiences according to which local tensions between refugees and hosts are derivative of a globalized antiforeigner discourse.

In the 18th century, non-Muslims and women crossed social boundaries during a period of increased global consumption, prompting intervention on the part of Ottoman officials. On the imperial level, the sultan promulgated edicts to restrict such crossings, following the path of earlier laws that had regulated public spaces including bathhouses. In Aleppo, a local reflection of these 18th-century trends was increased monitoring of nudity and of contact between Muslims and non-Muslims within the city's bathhouses. Regulations required that bathkeepers provide separate bath sundries for Muslims and non-Muslims and prohibited co-confessional bathing for women in particular. With the assistance of guilds—and to a lesser extent millet representatives—complex bathing schedules for Muslim and non-Muslim women were registered at court to support segregation policies. Jurists discussing modesty requirements for Muslim women declared that non-Muslim (dhimmī) women were to be treated as unrelated men in that they were forbidden to gaze upon a naked Muslim woman. Shariʿa court rulings were constructed along similar lines, indicating that the dhimmī woman was an unstable, liminal social category because in some circumstances her gaze was gendered male. Muslim male elites and local guilds ultimately instituted segregated bathing schedules to protect the purity of Muslim women from the danger posed by the dhimmī female figure.

In 1999, Sudan's Arabic periodical press observes its hundredth anniversary. A century before, and one year after the collapse of the Mahdist state (1881–98), the Britishdominated “Anglo-Egyptian“ regime (1898–1956) launched an official Arabic-English gazette. Four years later, Lebanese journalists founded the region's first independent Arabic newspaper, catering to an audience of Egyptians and Lebanese employed by the new government. These expatriates sparked an interest in journalism among educated Northern Sudanese men, who within a few years of the newspaper's debut were avidly subscribing and contributing to journals.

At a time when orientalism is under attack both from within and without the profession, the publication of Marshall G. S. Hodgson's three-volume work, The Venture of Islam: Conscience and History in a World Civilization1 is an event of major importance. So rich is its subject, so complex and ambitious its analytic scheme and serious its moral purpose that it is difficult in brief compass to give an idea of the book. In the following pages, I discuss those aspects of the work that seem to me most important for an understanding of its achievement and significance. In the end, I shall argue, The Venture of Islam must be seen as the most ambitious and successful effort to salvage the orientalist tradition to date.

In viewing American relations with the middle East since the Second World War, scholars have focused on the more dramatic events: Israel's independence in 1948, the Suez affair of 1956, and the post-1967 amalgam of conflicts and diplomacies. This, however, has resulted in a dearth of research on the inter vening periods, particularly the first half of the 1960s, when admittedly American leaders were preoccupied with events and crises elsewhere. Yet this period witnessed a substantive transformation in the American-Israeli relationship, complemented by a revealing twist in American relations with the Egyptian leader, Gamal Abdel Nasser. Relying primarliy on recently declassified documents, this paper seeks to explain both the course of American realtions with Israel and Egypt, as well as the reasons for the Middle East's relegation to the sidelines by American foreign policy decisionmakers. More specifically, two developments require explanation: Israel's emergence as an acknowledged ally of the Unisted States and recipient of offensive weapons; and the determination of American decisionmakers to pursue closer realtions wiht Nasser's Egypt despite numerous conflicting interests.

Mahmud Nedim Paşa was appointed grand vizier of the Ottoman Empire for the first time in September 1871 following the death of his predecessor in that office, Mehmed Amin Ali Paşa. His first tenure lasted until the end of July 1872. His rise to power represented the rise of a current in Ottoman politics that had been suppressed in the 1860s, when Ali and Fuad dominated the Porte.

A century after the Armenian Genocide and its ongoing denial by the Turkish state, there has emerged a notable and unprecedented interest in the Armenian past and present both in civil society discourse and scholarship in Turkey, accompanied by various reconciliation iniatives at the state and society levels. Observers have suggested that this increased engagement with Turkey's suppressed past is an outcome of its EU candidacy, the democratization reforms of the early 2000s, and the shockwave among liberal segments of Turkish society caused by the 2007 assassination of Armenian journalist Hrant Dink. I argue that this shortsighted analysis, which completely ignores the Kurdish movement's transformative challenge to Turkish denialism since the 1980s, echoes the key fallacy of present discussions of Turkey's engagement with its past: compartmentalization and disjunction of interlinked state crimes.

The summer of 2015 will perhaps be remembered as a watershed moment in the annals of racism in the United States. What had been normalized for decades by the southern states and giant retailers in “postracist” America was institutionally delegitimized almost overnight. Upping the ante, the department store giant Macy's announced it will discontinue Donald Trump merchandise because of Trump's racist remarks. A mere half century after the 1964 Civil Rights Act, in a perfect act of Foucauldian governmentality and market regulation from above, American business interests aggressively interfered in redefining the discursive and symbolic boundaries of the new mainstream normativity and truth in the United States. One can safely say that symbolic and actual denial of slavery and racist essentialism as normalized discourses in mainstream US culture and scholarship took another institutional blow, even though some reactionary book review here and there can still make its way into the mainstream, and even though defeating “dog whistle politics” is much more difficult than defeating outright racist symbols or speech.