Within the realm of Iranian studies, music remains mostly outside the purview of larger social and political discussions of the region. At first glance this may seem appropriate, since even musicians often consider their work beyond the reach of sociological discussions. But the behavior of Iranians suggests that music has a broader social and political role beyond narrowly defined musical contexts. Music is a common part of everyday life in Iran. In traditional contexts such as weddings and other family gatherings as well as in modern settings such as the car, the computer, or the concert hall, most Iranians experience music on a daily basis. Music's influential role in Iranian society has made it the target of constant government scrutiny both before and after the Islamic Revolution. The current Islamic government's need to control and approve of every aspect of music making demonstrates a keen understanding of music's influence in the country. Hence whether Iranians are listening to it, dancing to it, performing it, or banning it, the message is the same: music is a powerful force that affects key aspects of Iranian society. For this reason music can offer a unique perspective on a variety of topics relevant to students and scholars of modern Iran.

Since the middle of the twentieth century there have been three waves of historiography on the late Ottoman world. Each rose to prominence in a different global setting, functioned as a broad intellectual orientation, and was replaced by another somewhat less hegemonic theoretical current after about two decades. The key differences between the three episodes are evident in terms of their thematic priorities, analytical frameworks, and the research designs and methodological choices of scholars. These three waves of Ottoman history writing can be classified as modernization approaches, macro models, and post-structural agendas.

Although the first contact between Korea and the Middle East dates back to the ninth or twelfth century, academic interests in Islamic and Middle Eastern Studies began in 1965 with the establishment of the Department of Arabic Language and Literature at the Hankuk University of Foreign Studies in Seoul.

The birth of the Third Republic of Korea in 1961 signaled a new diplomatic move into the non-aligned world, particularly the Arab Middle East as it gained in importance in the international political and economic community. At the same time, the Korean economy began to expand and her trade found markets in the Middle East. These developments are some of the important factors which gave birth to the Department of Arabic Language and Literature.

Historical writing by Syrians on Syria up to the 20th century followed the traditional patterns of annals, in chronicle form, biographical notes, and general histories. These histories, when written by Muslims, were mainly concerned with Islamic and Arab countries. Interest in other countries, especially Europe, discerned in the writings of Christians (a noted example is the history by Mīkhāīl Barīk, Tārīkh al-Shām 1720-1782, ed. Q. al-Bāshā [Harīsā, 1930J ) , became widespread in the writings of both Christians and Muslims in the 19th century as a result of the growing influence of Europe in Near Eastern affairs.

Apart from the exposition and interpretation of Quranic teaching, which is a vast subject, the critical problems that have preoccupied students of the Qur'ān fall for the most part into four divisions. First there is the question of the origins of the Qur'an in the broadest sense. How did the substance of the book come to be and what sort of material does it constitute? From what kind of roots in the social situation or the personal life of Muhammad does it spring? What is the relation to the literary deposits of other preceding religious traditions? It may be argued that this problem might more properly be considered as an aspect of study of the Prophet since it has to do with the modes of revelation, the nature of prophetic psychology and experience, and the possible prophetic acquaintance with or dependence upon religious writings of Christians and Jews, whether directly or through informants.

According to its Mission Statement, MESA's Committee on Academic Freedom (CAF) is tasked with monitoring violations of academic freedom in the MENA region as well as in North America. Violations of academic freedom are often understood as comprising governmental attempts to prevent scholars from conducting scholarly research, publishing their findings, delivering academic lectures, and traveling to international scholarly meetings. However, CAF often addresses cases in which professors and academic researchers irrespective of discipline are harassed, persecuted, dismissed or detained for their peaceful professional or personal activities, particularly if they encourage respect for human rights. In some instances, the committee has also protested state violence that has deliberately targeted educational institutions’ buildings or campuses.

The 1990s marked an important moment in Egyptian television, when the country turned its attention increasingly (although never monolithically) toward historical drama as a means of recreating and reinterpreting modern Egyptian history. Mahfouz Abd al-Rahman and Osama Anwar Okasha, in particular, scripted long multi-year series aired during Ramadan, the peak season for television viewing, that covered decades of the late ninteenth century and pre-Nasserist history, in many ways re-writing public history, and making historical drama—and history—fashionable. I focus here on the former and his first mega-hit Bawabat al-Halawani (Halawani Gate). Biographical dramas, initially of artists, but later politicians, kings, and religious leaders would follow. As the Egyptian industry atrophied in the following decade these dramatists passed the mantle on to the Syrians, later the Turks, who broke the Egyptian monopoly and brought their own stories to the fore. But a rebirth may be in view.

“Water,” wrote the mayor’s council late in the nineteenth century, “is the only thing holding Algiers back from expanding its glory as the queen of African cities.” Paris uses 240 liters of water per person per day, it reported; New York, Philadelphia and Chicago 400 liters. Algiers could only muster a meager 60 liters per day per person, far below the levels necessary to feed a population, fill wells, and scrub a city of its toxins. For over half a century, the council reported, Algiers had thirsted after the clean water necessary to make it a great city. If the French were to make Algiers truly modern, they would need to solve this vexing problem of water.

Thus the council summed up one of the ongoing challenges in continuing settler colonialism in Algeria. Environmental projects—battling epidemic disease, drought, locust invasions, and providing/establishing hydraulic control—became important factors in the rise and expansion of the colonial state. In the midst of a crippling environmental disaster, water—access to fresh water for drinking, controlling agricultural infrastructure, and ensuring cities were “hygienic”—became a site of contention in the creation of the modern state. In this paper I will briefly examine how the physical control of water resources, along with discourses about modernity and modern governance, contributed to the expansion of the colonial state by the end of the 1860s.