A puzzling issue for those of us who study the modern Middle East is the slow—and in some instances nonexistent—progress toward more open and inclusive political systems. Why does authoritarianism persist in the Middle East? Why have regimes in many parts of the world, from East Europe to Latin America and elsewhere, made successful transitions from authoritarianism while the Middle East has lagged behind? Is the Middle Eastern exceptionalism likely to endure?

What makes these questions more paradoxical is the presence of a number of democrats and reformers in the Middle East, as well as human rights organizations and civic groups, that attempt to provide a check on abuses of power and try to promote political reform. Moreover, there are regimes such as Israel and Turkey where democratic political systems, with limitations, exist and function reasonably successfully. Although in a few other polities (Lebanon, Iran, Egypt, Kuwait, and so on) semi-regular competitive elections for high offices are held, exclusionary tactics are used routinely to keep some individuals and groups from becoming active players in the political arena.

As we gather for our annual conference that is held this year on the eve of International Human Rights Day, it is appropriate for us to reflect on our need to protect academic freedom. As members of MESA, we are part of a global community of scholars. We have a special responsibility to uphold the principle of academic freedom both at home and abroad. The freedoms to conduct research, to teach and to communicate are fundamental to our professional lives. Moreover, we—as academicians—have a special “obligation to promote conditions of free inquiry and to further public understanding of academic freedom,” as the American Association of University Professors (1966) emphasizes.

Damascus has a long and distinguished history as a center for scholars and scholarship. The Umayyad Mosque has been a hub for Muslim scholars since the first Islamic century. Under the Ayyubids and Mamluks, a flurry of madrasa-building brought professional scholars to Damascus from all corners of the Muslim world. During the late 19th and early 20th centuries in Damascus, many scattered manuscript collections were consolidated into the National Library, housed in the Mamluk-era Madrasa al-Zahiriyya, the pride of Syrian scholars in the age of Arab nationalism. With French rule in 1920 came an army of researchers and catalogers who established one of the region’s best library collections at the Institut Français des Études Arabes à Damas. And, in 1984, the Asad Library was established to serve as a national library and to house manuscript collections from around the country. The mid-1990s is an auspicious time for American researchers in Syria because of the establishment of the American Research Institute in Syria, Inc. (ARIS), a consortium of American universities that has been working for the past several years to establish an institute for research and residence in Damascus on par with the European facilities there. The Institute has yet to be officially approved by the Syrian government, and present efforts depend on the outcome of regional political discussions.

The computer has gone through several metamorphoses since all of us began to make room for it on our desktops more than a decade ago. First it was a nimble and versatile typewriter, then a hefty number cruncher, and now it is becoming the ultimate communications device, connected by modem and telephone lines to an amorphous global network called the Internet. I eagerly invested in one of the earliest personal computers, a quaint little machine that I now realize was the research equivalent of training wheels. I also bought a modem when such devices were little more than clumsy novelties and dutifully plugged into a telephone jack, only to discover there was nothing of any significance on the other end of the line.

The internet has been a continually changing forum for communicating that has been taken up by diaspora communities to maintain connections with their countrymates all over the world. In that capacity, the technology has been an easy and innovative avenue for cultural expression. Iranians, for instance, have established on-line magazines, newsgroups, media and business directories, human rights organizations, student groups, academic organizations and book publishers for a transnational community. Who goes to these sites and why?

A well-known journalist in Cairo, Rajā’ al-Naqqāsh, wrote that, as a child, he thought “listening to Umm Kulthūm” meant “listening to singing.” When the adults around him listened to singing, they listened to Umm Kulthūm, thus “singing,” in his youthful experience, equated to “Umm Kulthūm.” While this attitude would be rare in Egypt now as listeners have moved other music into the domains of their daily life, Umm Kulthūm remains a formidable presence as she has been for nearly a century.

The music of Saudi Arabia and the Gulf flourishes predominantly within its own regional boundaries, a function of both the fragmented music distribution channels in the Middle East and the deep imprint that local traditional cultures have left on it. While the music’s popularity is strictly regional, it is full of vitality, supporting an array of male and female song stars whose audiences eagerly await performances and recordings.

The distinct sound of Gulf music echoes the internal and external historic influences on the region, interwoven with the highly syncopated rhythms and the stark unaccompanied songs of the Bedouin. Pilgrims brought foreign music influences to Mecca and Medina and left their mark on the musical ensembles of the Arabian cities in rhythms and maqāmāt. The trading and pearling towns on the coasts and in the Peninsula’s interior also saw foreigners come and go, who left their music and songs behind. As a result, a rich and varied yet distinctly Arabian/Khalījī sound developed, echoing the voices and instrumental music of East Africa and the Indian subcontinent.