As activists frame campaigns, their region's broader cultural and political context intercedes. In Israel and Palestine attempts to work across national lines and undertake activism that links ecological, economic, and social issues have long been stymied. This article examines how the fraught historical and contemporary relationships of Israelis and Palestinians with land bestow both flexibility and limitations on their framing of campaigns. In particular, it ethnographically analyzes the framing of two projects—the building of an “eco-mosque” and a Jordan River restoration effort—to examine how activists grapple with frame flexibility and its limits. It finds that an Israeli tendency to deterritorialize environmental issues and curb environmental campaigns that are “too political” conflicts with Palestinian criticism of apolitical frames because they euphemize violence and domination. These cases demonstrate how local connotations can make or break environmental campaigns. The eco-adage, “Think global, act local” is not enough. One must think local, too.

This article contributes to an emerging scholarly debate over the support displayed by key Azhari ʿulamaʾ for the 3 July 2013 coup in Egypt and the subsequent massacres of anticoup protesters. I focus on the Islamic legal justifications articulated by the former grand mufti of Egypt ʿAli Jumʿa, which academics have contextualized primarily in relation to quietist precedents from late medieval Islamic political thought or his Sufi background. By contrast, I consider Jumʿa's justifications as representative of a nationalist discourse that has its historical origins in the protonationalism of Rifaʿa al-Tahtawi (d. 1873). My argument has wider implications for our conceptualization of the contemporary Islamic tradition. If, as scholars have argued, the Islamic tradition is a framework for inquiry rather than a set of doctrines, then in the 19th century a concern for the nation and its future became a key part of that framework. I contend that these additions came to redefine the worldview and politics of the ʿulamaʾ in terms of national progress and its horizon of expectations.

Rapid population growth constitutes one of the most critical problems confronting many Middle Eastern and North African countries, placing incremental pressure on their finite water and other natural resources and challenging their abilities to grow sufficient food, accommodate school and university graduates with jobs, build adequate urban and rural infrastructures, contain rapid urbanization, and alleviate poverty, illiteracy, malnutrition, and disease. More than one-third of the population is under the age of fifteen in a majority of countries and, thus, has yet to marry and reach reproductive age. As a result, in most places the number of women of childbearing age (fifteen to forty-nine) will more than double in the next thirty years. Because there are so many young people, by one estimate the region's economies would have to generate half as many additional jobs by 2010 as existed in 1996 to avoid an increase in already high unemployment rates, particularly among young adults. The growing bulge of unemployed young people has serious political ramifications for many Middle Eastern regimes, from Algeria to Saudi Arabia. These problems will likely get worse in the short term because of demographic momentum—the parents of the future have already been born.

The Islamic reformist movement known as Salafism is generally portrayed as a relentlessly literalist and rigid school of religious thought. This article pursues a more nuanced picture of a historical Salafism that is less a movement with a single, linear origin than a dynamic intellectual milieu continually shaped by local contexts. Using 1930s Aden as a case study, the article examines how a transregional reformist discourse could be vulnerable to local interpretation and begins to unpack the transformation of Salafi activism from a broad, doctrinaire, and, above all, foreign ideology to an integral part of local religious discourse. It situates reform within an evolving Islamic discursive tradition that in part developed as a result of its own theological logic but was equally shaped by local and historically contingent institutions, social practices, and power structures. It thus explores Salafism as a dynamic tradition that could be adapted by local intellectuals to engage the problems facing their own communities.

“We are all enraged. Why don't you arrest us?” chanted protestors in the courtroom during the trial of El-Haqed (the enraged), a twenty-four-year-old rapper from Casablanca. El-Haqed is an active member of the 20 February movement (Feb20), which extended the 2011 North African uprisings to Morocco. Many believe that the civil charges brought several times against him are related to his political activism with Feb20 and his daring lyrics. El-Haqed's song “Long Live the People” is thought to be behind his first arrest because it disrupts the phrase “Long Live the King.” In June 2014, El-Haqed was sentenced to prison for the first time for a period of four months. While attending a sports match, he was arrested on charges of selling tickets on the black market. His multiple arrests, and Feb20 members’ sustained mobilizations against them, reveal that the rapper is not only an iconic figure for youth protesters, but also one of their greatest rallying forces.

Can a nation mobilizing for an extended armed conflict also construct and implement a national educational curriculum? This article explores the complex and crucial case of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) as it sought to develop a national curriculum while in exile in Lebanon during the 1970s, prior to the inception of the Palestinian National Authority. Based on previously unexamined primary sources from PLO archives, I show how the PLO accomplished a high level of curriculum maturity despite considerable contextual and institutional challenges. The PLO mainstream embraced this curriculum as a political instrument of anticolonial and postdiasporic education suitable for regenerating a sense of community, fostering nation building, and increasing the PLO's political legitimacy. However, as can be expected in a colonial or diasporic setting, the process of educational transition remained uneven, fragile, and dependent on the PLO leadership's ability to navigate conflicts and negotiate arrangements with colonial power, host states, and international organizations.

The speed, spread, and democratic thrust of Arab revolutionary uprisings conjure up the revolutionary waves of 1848 and 1989 in Europe. Spearheaded by educated youth, the Arab uprisings have been brought to fruition by the masses of ordinary people (men, women, Muslims, and non-Muslims) who have mobilized at an astonishing scale against authoritarian regimes in pursuit of social justice, democratic governance, and dignity. If this broad observation is valid, then these social earthquakes are likely to unsettle some of the most enduring perspectives on the region. To begin with, they should undermine “Middle East exceptionalism,” with its culturalist focus informed by assumptions of “stagnant culture,” “fatalist Muslims,” and “unchangeable polity.” In political science, students of “regime stability” and the “authoritarian resiliency” of Arab states may have to reevaluate their conceptual premises. The analytical relevance of the concept of “rentier state” as the political basis of authoritarian stability might likewise need serious reformulation. The blatant cash handouts by some Arab Gulf states to “buy opposition” during the wave of protests in February and March 2011 do not seem to have worked.

This paper focuses on a long-running and understudied Egyptian economic institution, the beer industry. While the presence of a well-developed beer industry in a predominantly Muslim country is noteworthy in itself, it is the consistent profitability of this industry despite the vicissitudes of Egypt's economic and political development that have made it truly remarkable. Relying heavily on archival material, including documents preserved in Cairo's Dar al-Wathaʾiq (Egyptian National Archives), this paper tracks the development of the beer industry in Egypt from 1897, when Belgian entrepreneurs started the Pyramid and Crown breweries, to the 1960s, when the Egyptian government nationalized the two companies. This analysis uses the history of the beer company to map larger social and economic trends in the colonial and semicolonial Egyptian economy (1882–1963) and to further problematize the foreign/Egyptian dichotomy that shapes discussions of it.

While the literature on ideology is long-standing and considerable, it is also very controversial. On the one hand, the term ideology remains in such poor repute that many authors apologize for using it or substitute other words or expressions. On the other, many scholars employ the term without definition as though its meaning was well understood.

The ethical theory of the Mu'tazila is properly called ‘rationalism’, because it held that the values of human and divine actions are knowable in principle by natural human reason. Since this doctrine and related parts of the theory (mentioned in the next section) were the prevailing ethical theories in the major preIslamic religious cultures of Iran and Byzantium, the question easily arises, to what extent were the Mu'tazila as the first systematic theologians in Islam indebted to these cultures for their ethics?

During the last decade or so, educational institutions of developing countries have attracted the attention of social scientists as the prime movers of structural changes in such societies. Some of those who are concerned with economic development and growth have argued that a major barrier to economic development is not so much the scarcity of natural resources and capital, but rather the lack of trained manpower resulting from insufficient or mismanaged investment in training the ‘necessary manpower’.

Few oil-producing economies, and for that matter few primary commodity-producing countries, have experienced as abrupt and severe a loss of foreign exchange earnings as that undergone by Iran in the period 1951–1953 following the nationalization of the oil industry and the subsequent international boycott of Iranian oil. While the literature on Iran during this period is extensive, it has focused largely on the political implications of nationalization and not so much on the economy's adjustment to the loss of foreign exchange. This article argues that the Iranian experience provides an instructive case study–admittedly an extreme one—of the ability of countries exposed to external shocks to adjust to the new realities.

In the thirty-two years from 1979 to 2011 there have been numerous mass movements in Iran and several Arab countries that have overthrown or threatened rulers who seemed secure for several decades. By September 2011, the shah of Iran and the presidents of Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya had been overthrown; of those, only the anti-Qaddafi revolt had outside (NATO) help. Major popular movements had also threatened the rulers of Bahrain, Yemen, and Syria. Iran had seen the massive Green Movement in 2009, aimed primarily at fraud in that year's presidential elections. Among the questions that emerge regarding these movements are the following: Why did they arise when they did? Why were they not predicted? How much influence did one or more of these movements have on the others? Why were some movements successful and others, thus far, not? Some of these questions will demand long study and analysis, which may not lead to a consensus. Here will be a preliminary brief discussion of a few of them, with stress on the question of influence.

Through a reading of 19th-century Persian travel narratives, this article locates the history of Iran and Central Eurasia within recent literature on global frontier processes and the encounter between empire and nature. It argues that Persianate travel books about Central Eurasia were part of the imperial project to order and reclaim the natural world and were forged through the material encounter with the steppes. Far from a passive act of collecting information and more than merely an extension of the observer's preconceptions, description was essential to the expansion and preservation of empire. Although there exists a vast literature on Western geographical and ethnographic representations of the Middle East, only recently have scholars begun to mine contacts that took place outside of a Western colonial framework and within an Asian setting. Based on an analysis of Riza Quli Khan Hidayat's Sifaratnama-yi Khvarazm, the record of an expedition sent from the Qajar Dynasty to the Oxus River in 1851, the article explores the 19th-century Muslim “discovery” of the Eurasian steppe world. The expedition set out to define imperial boundaries and to reclaim the desert, but along the way it found a permeable “middle ground” between empires, marked by transfrontier and cross-cultural exchanges.

An important issue in considering violence at both the conceptual and empirical levels is the question of what counts as “violence” and how it is acknowledged. In many polities of the Middle East, including Palestine, Iraq, and Afghanistan, there is no clear boundary between war and peace. Conflicts have lasted over a long period and even the project of securing a future in which the struggle for decolonization and political autonomy can be kept alive faces enormous hurdles as everyday life is corroded by betrayals, accusations, and the sheer exhaustion of keeping political energies from waning. Most acute observers of prolonged conflicts recognize the corrosive effects of these conflicts on everyday life. In this brief thought piece, I want to reflect on one aspect of the problem: that of the relation between sexual violence as an aspect of dramatic and spectacular violence—in wars (including modern ones), pogroms against ethnic or religious minorities, or episodes of lethal riots between sectarian groups—and everyday forms of sexual violence that could be both part of the public domain and constitutive of domestic intimacy. Said otherwise, I am interested in how experience of violence travels from one threshold of life to another.

As an ambitious city aspiring to become a major contributor to and player in the global world, Dubai often tends to be endeared to and affected by grand-scale urbanism and skyscraper skylines. The recent practice of architecture in Dubai is replete with examples of architectural monuments and miraculous constructions. Whilst the architectural feats required to raise grand structures for global branding and economic strategy are noteworthy, many other facets of urbanism also warrant adulation and exploration. One example is the narrative of human-scale urbanism—the pedestrian-driven places that put people at the center of the town. Due to its human-scale nature and morphology, the quotidian landscape, more than other existing settings, such as those modeled on “bigness” and dispersion successfully narrates a clear story about the essence of everyday urbanism: the nexus between the physical and the social, and the architecture and everyday life of the city's urban spaces. Life and culture in the UAE have evolved drastically, but in old communities where the quotidian landscape is still palpable, it has stayed the same—simple, open to everyone, and full of animation and affection.

Infanticide is known to have been a common means of birth control from early, apparently even prehistoric, times. In societies that lacked any precise knowledge of the fertilization process and consequently methods for its prevention, infanticide was used more frequently than other known methods of population limitation, such as abstention from intercourse and abortion. Infanticide was expected to serve several functions: “general reduction in population numbers (including twin removal), removal of defectives, elimination of social ‘illegitimates’ (i.e., offspring whose existence violated social group boundaries), response to loss of the nursing mother, control of dependency ratio, manipulation of sex ratio, and finally, use as a backstop to other methods when those fail”.

The most important and undoubtedly the most fateful period in Ottoman history is the Young Turk or Union and Progress era in 1908–18. The final disintegration of the Ottoman empire, the rise of independent states in the Middle East, the intensification of conflicts over Macedonia, the full emergence of Turkish and Arab nationalisms, the start of the Muslim anti-imperialist mobilization through struggle in Libya in 1911, and other events of vital importance in the social and political history of the area occurred during the Young Turk era. It was a historical watershed which marked simultaneously the end of an imperial form of political organization in the Middle East and the beginning of a new political existence in the form of national states. The Young Turks affected profoundly the course of history among the peoples of the Middle East and the Balkans. Moreover the Young Turks were the first group in the Ottoman state to approach the social, political, and cultural transformation of their society in the spirit of modern politics. Yet the Young Turks remain the least studied and understood and the most distortedly portrayed power group in the history of the Balkans and the Middle East. Most of the existing works on the Young Turks, consisting mainly of memoirs, were written by their authors to credit themselves with political roles and achievements which did not always correspond to reality.

In the field of international relations, the 1979 Soviet occupation of Afghanistan has raised major issues concerning regional security and superpower relations. By introducing Soviet military forces in a traditionally nonaligned country, the Kremlin initiated a more aggressive pattern in its foreign policies. This occupation was the Soviet Union's first territorial expansion by direct use of military power since World War II.