New Texts Out Now: Junaid Rana, Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora

[Cover of Junaid Rana, \"Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora.\"] [Cover of Junaid Rana, \"Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora.\"]

New Texts Out Now: Junaid Rana, Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora

By : Junaid Rana

Junaid Rana, Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora. Durham: Duke University Press, 2011.

Jadaliyya (J): What made you write this book?

Junaid Rana (JR): My book was borne out of ethnographic research I completed on the role of labor migration in the global economy. I started with some basic questions: why do people become labor migrants, how does labor migration become transnational and global, what are the conditions that lead to labor migration, and how are labor migrants treated abroad? Each of these questions led to complex answers driven by fieldwork I conducted with Pakistanis before and after 11 September 2001, in Lahore, Dubai, and New York. The research, although initially about the confluence of race and labor as categories of social hierarchy, took an urgent turn because of the timing and the locations I was studying. And even though I was already working on the dynamics of labor exploitation under globalization, of which racism is a part, the role of Islamophobia and anti-Muslim racism became especially relevant. My focus on racialization made it important to traverse some tricky ground that scholars are just beginning to cover concerning the relationship of race to Muslims and Islam. Much of this argument is still unfolding as academics are now embracing the reality of the pressing need to study racism against Muslims.

After completing my fieldwork, which mainly consisted of an ethnography of labor migration and the role of the state in this process, I continued to think about the social and cultural processes that I was examining in other spheres, from media reportage to films and television shows. One of the reasons I took on this critical approach was to combine ethnographic data with the interdisciplinary methods and analysis developed in the field of cultural studies. This meant showing how the things I was examining in terms of labor and race formation were present in a broad spectrum of mediated information.

Although my book is a response to the events of 9/11, it does not argue that everything began there. In fact, much of my argument builds on the historical research of other scholars to provide the range of how something like the concept of race became associated with Muslims and Islam. More specific to my study, I argue that there are certain groups that face far greater vulnerability to exploitation and oppression because of how social hierarchies shift in the global economy. This means that those who we might see in the lower tiers of the service sector of the global economy, those who we might call a globalized working class, are usually targeted as a problem that must be fixed rather than as a necessary component of globalization under neoliberal capitalism. So in the US War on Terror, when it was mainly immigrants and the working poor that were removed from their homes and communities and put into deportation proceedings, the logic of this new racial order was exacerbated by the vulnerability of these populations.

Such practices persist in even greater ways in popular forms of racism that consistently target Muslims based on their religious comportment, including dress and physical appearance. The recent murder of Shaima Alawadi in her home in San Diego, California, and the accompanying note that expressed xenophobic hatred, is an example of this. For Alawadi, a thirty-two-year-old Iraqi immigrant woman who wore the hijab or headscarf, such religious dress is interpreted in a racialized way that marks religious difference as naturalized. I explain this process of racial boundary-making and the connection to everyday forms of violence in greater detail in the last chapter (entitled “The Muslim Body”) of my book.  

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures does it address?

JR: My book is structured in terms of the double meaning of “terrifying Muslims.” The first meaning of “Muslims that are terrifying” is explained through the framing of racial representations, depictions, and rationales that depend on a system of social hierarchy. In the second meaning of “to terrify Muslims,” I describe the process of disciplining and policing this racial logic of the first meaning to the demands of globalization.

In terms of academic genealogy, this research follows the legacy of Edward Said and his critique of Orientalism as a form of knowledge and power as it is tethered to the practices of imperialism and the machines of war. In this context, I examine how racism and domination is a tool of twenty-first century imperialism in which an American empire has been created in terms of broad regional and global formations of what scholars call colonialism without colonies. Further, labor migration is a historical and contemporaneous aspect of what I describe, using the concept of the global racial system. In this approach, I argue that racism is not specific to the geographic boundaries of certain countries but is global in terms of territorial scope and its philosophical approach of expansion and malleability as a concept of oppression.

The book is also focused on developing an under-researched aspect of the scholarship on the South Asian diaspora, one that focuses on Pakistan and Muslim South Asia. Much of this literature has focused on the diaspora that is of Indian origin, largely because of demographic differences. Yet populations from countries such as Pakistan, Afghanistan, and Bangladesh have extremely important diasporic population across the world. There are some important class distinctions between these populations that place many of them in what would be described as the working class or working poor. Because of the roles of patriarchy and state-controlled migration, many of the initial migrants from these countries are men, which has led to particular gender formations that cast them under notions of racialized masculinity.

In the context of the United States, much of this book examines how Pakistani immigrants are located as people of color in relationship to their place of origin and religion. Thus, even as they are classified as South Asian American, because of their religion they are often understood as linked to or are mistakenly combined with Arab Americans. In this way, forms of racializing Muslims take Arab and South Asian Americans as a singular group, which confuses complex histories and geographies.

Finally, my book addresses the anthropology of the state and labor migration to examine how institutions are central to people’s everyday lives. This is one of the key theoretical interventions of the book, in terms of offering a view of how a number of state systems can be a part of the labor migrant experience and are linked in creating what I call labor diasporas in the global racial system.

J: How does this work connect to and/or depart from your previous research and writing?

JR: Terrifying Muslims is the product of research and writing that I have been developing for the last ten years or so. In many ways, the research aims of this book were broad and a bit far reaching in that I was seeking to understand a fundamental experience of globalization through the terms of transnationalism and labor migration. By pushing the boundaries of traditional ethnographic frames of fieldwork and research, this research is a cross between thinking through broad theoretical questions and ethnographies of the global.

J: Who do you hope will read this book, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

JR: I’d be happy for anyone to pick up my book. Admittedly there are harder parts than others in the book, because I wanted to take on theoretical ideas and issues while also providing ethnographic vignettes and evidence in the style of narrative descriptions and fieldwork encounters. So the end result is some complex ideas and language mixed with straightforward prose that is meant to cover a lot of ground. The book is demanding, but I hope that it will help people think through some of the dilemmas of our present and future world.

J: What other projects are you working on now?

JR: I’m working on a number of book projects, some that have been in the works longer than others. Right now I’m doing an ethnography of the Little Pakistan neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York. This book tells an alternative version of the decade since 9/11, a story that has now gained even more importance given the revelations of crass and simplistic information gathered through NYPD surveillance in many of these neighborhoods.

I’ve also been thinking and writing about aesthetics and music that conceptually deals with theorizations of war, empire, racism, and violence. I’m really interested in the work of Huma Bhabha and a number of artists who are pushing the boundaries of politics and art in interesting ways.

There is an edited anthology in the works on the subject of Muslims and race that I’m working on with my colleague Sohail Daulatzai at the University of California-Irvine. We’re hoping to bring a bunch of people together to counter the lethargy and lazy thinking concerning racism and Muslims.

I’ve also got a long-term book project that examines the role of Muslims in social justice initiatives across the US. This last one will take a while, and in many ways will be a departure from my other writing in that it will be more of a movement book, as I’m thinking about it.

Excerpt from Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora

Imagining South Asian America

Although Pakistan’s cultural, linguistic, and historical affinity is to the South Asian subcontinent, in the post-9/11 Age of Terror, it seems to have shifted geographically to become part of the Middle East. In fact, in the global War on Terror, the Muslim world is increasingly imagined as a single geopolitical mass. Without doubt, the complex overlap of regions including South Asia, Central Asia, the Arab Gulf, and the broader Middle East, have intensified through the connections created by mass migration, satellite technology, and complex financial, social, and cultural flows. As Thomas Blom Hansen notes in the context of Muslims in India, labor migration provides global horizons to workers who imagine alternative possibilities and social landscapes through travel to the Middle East, Southeast Asia, Europe, and North America. Although this form of globalization may be laudable, a refiguring of structures of social hierarchy and control is also emerging that distinguishes groups of people through categories of identity.

Accompanying the homogenization of such cultural geographies as the “Muslim world” is the impact of an American nationalism defined in relation to a transnational and global world. The tensions of the category “South Asian American” become apparent when it is used to describe immigrants from Pakistan. “South Asia” as a regional concept has long been dominated by a hegemonic India; in many ways, the terms “South Asia” and “India” are synonymous. In this geography, India is celebrated as a vital democracy and growth economy that is a global competitor, while Pakistan is thought of as a failed state with nuclear capabilities constantly on the brink of running amok. In short, India is Bollywood and technology; Pakistan is terror and trouble.

Pakistan is thus formulated as a feeder state that produces terrorism to be exported abroad and that stands at the front lines of the War on Terror. The idea of migrating terror is encapsulated in the set of rationales that underlie the policing of labor migration and of immigrant communities. The problem in defining communities in the US in terms of their home countries, however, lies not only in the continuity of homogenized and disarticulated geographies that separate Pakistan from South Asia that place it into a larger group of Muslim countries and regions but also in complex migrations, foreign policies, and geopolitical strategies of empire building.

Added to these broad configurations of regional geography and political strategy is the influence of the US in South Asia and the Middle East. Pakistan is particularly important to the US as a partner in the global War on Terror through the two countries’ longstanding patron-client relationship. The role of the US in Pakistan is deeply attached to geostrategic security concerns, anti-terrorism and anti-drug campaigns, militarism, and sociocultural development in areas that range from education and infrastructure to the control of international travel and migration. What happens to migrant workers has an impact that reaches far and wide, not only to locations within the US, but to other places within the diaspora. The US economy has a vast reach in determining trends within the global economy; thus, migrant workers’ fate is affected by fiscal demands, economic restructuring, and military adventurism. At a global level, labor migrations are put into place as a result of collusion in neoliberal economic policies and the interests of American imperialism. At the contemporary juncture, this is manifest in America’s global War on Terror, which is important not only to the role of Pakistanis in international migration, but the representation of Muslims across the planet.

Defeating terrorism in Pakistan and Afghanistan and controlling migration to US soil have taken on the highest importance for the American security establishment. Indeed, US aid has contributed to the centralization of the domestic military industry in Pakistan. During the War on Terror, the US government is increasingly targeting Pakistani migrants, alongside Arabs and other Muslims and immigrants, for deportation and detention as potential threats to the security of the American people. As an apparatus of the US security state that caters to the public’s desire for an appearance of law and order through the purging of manufactured perils, immigrants become a disciplined workforce that embodies these fears. Perils and menaces, such as the “yellow peril” that targeted Asian Americans and the “red menace” of internal communism and socialism, have been constructed throughout US history. The most recent articulation is the “Islamic peril.”

Following Inderpal Grewal’s theorization of a transnational America, which argues for a conceptualization that supersedes the territorial boundaries of the US nation-state, I draw on a complex mapping of sovereign nation-states not only at the geopolitical level but also in terms of crafting imaginaries of migration that facilitate increasingly transnational and global theorizations. In such imaginaries, the possibilities and boundaries of everyday migration and the impact of macro-level foreign policies become apparent. Through the 1990s and into the twenty-first century, for example, America was represented as a haven for information-technology workers seeking H-1B visas (non-immigrant visas that allow American employers to employ foreign workers temporarily in specialized occupations), and the consequent ability to move up the global economic ladder. This generated a great deal of interest in temporary migration and guest work among educated and professional people. However, the same narratives of possibility circulated widely among less advantaged and less affluent migrants. Simultaneously, patterns of chain and step migration and shifts in US immigration laws allowed families to reunify, creating new and complex class and social formations in increasingly heterogeneous immigrant communities. Such patterns and structures of migration play an important role in creating the migration fantasy. While television talk shows in the US highlight anti-Americanism in Pakistan and across the Muslim world, America continues to be seen as a land of endless possibility, no matter how tormented this dream has become. The work of imagination is vast when it comes to geography and migration, as I learned in my fieldwork. Take, for example, one migrant’s statement: “When you ask [many Pakistanis] what they think of America, they will criticize everything, but if you gave free visas, all of them would line up to get one.”

In this book, I look at transnational workers within the global economy to highlight the relationship between neoliberalism and empire and the formation of worldviews, subjectivities, and life chances. In Weberian terms, these are largely worlds of enchantment and disenchantment in which migrants’ lives are crafted through possibility and regulation. Rhetorically, this project asks how Pakistani labor migrants are made sense of and how they make sense of their world in the global economy. But I launch this argument not only from within the confines of the economic sphere, I also engage with the anthropology of globalization to investigate issues of social and cultural formation that drive diasporas into particular relationships—specifically, those that structure and control the possibilities of migrants’ lives. To explore the themes of globalization and migration, I also look to scholarship on the South Asian diaspora to guide many of my arguments about Pakistani transnational workers. In addition, this work is indebted to the insight and theoretical approaches forged in the field of transnational cultural studies in the examination of feminism, racism, transnationalism, gender, sexuality, and other relations of power.

Following recent critiques of South Asian migration, I expand the notions of one-way and bidirectional migration in favor of models of diaspora that emphasize the multiplicity of movement. In particular, I look at how social formations are constructed in diaspora through chain, step, and seasonal migration based on economic, cultural, social, and political factors. Tracing migration to a source country allows the role of internal migration and the placement of migration hubs in the process of sending and receiving migrant workers to be magnified. The politics of regional migration also plays an important role in crafting migrants’ pathways to labor acquisition. In mapping such a labor diaspora, I argue that the social formations produced in home countries and through regional migration are an important aspect of how Pakistani workers are understood through the terms of criminality and deviance that are then racialized in the global War on Terror.

Indeed, for ethnic and racial studies in the US, the study of Muslim populations spans broad racial and ethnic categorizations. Muslims are found in African American, Asian American, Arab American, Latina/o, white, and multiracial communities. Despite this ambiguity, the racialized Muslim is mobilized as a unitary figure. To frame my analysis, I evoke “the Muslim” as a category that encompasses many nationalities, social and cultural practices, religious affiliations (from Muslim Sunni and Shia to Christian, Sikh, and Hindu), and social realities that, through the process of state and popular racialization, is generalized. The system of policing that targets Arab, Muslim, and South Asian immigrants for detention and deportation, as exemplified by the placement of “the Muslim” in the US racial formation under the Bush administration’s War on Terror, is crafted through a broad logic of anti-immigrant racism. What is particularly telling is the disproportionately high number of Pakistanis deported either through forced or voluntary means in the sweeps that followed 9/11. Not only does Pakistan as a country represent terror, danger, and Islamic militancy, but Pakistanis in the US are cast as perilous racial figures of indeterminate standing.

Although I focus on Pakistani migrants in the global economy and on the racialized Muslim under American empire, this work maintains a comparative and interdisciplinary approach. When possible, I have attempted to construct and analyze the issues of my research in relation to other relevant populations and subject matter. Although the ethnographic method is at the core of much of the cultural and material analysis in this book, it is not a conventional ethnography. Instead, I draw on ethnographic fieldwork to weave approaches to political economy, visual and cultural analysis, history, and critical race studies into an interdisciplinary study of the complex issues I elaborate. Specifically, I argue that conceptions of globalized racism are based in the circulation of specific racialized regionalisms that imagine the Muslim world as connected and interdependent. This, in turn, is imagined as part of a geography that connects migratory networks of Muslim countries to the metropoles of Northern countries in the global economy. Relying on ethnographic fieldwork conducted both before and after 9/11, this approach expands the framework of studies of race and migration by placing Muslim migrants into racial formations in the US and as a central part of the global racial system. Within the South Asian diaspora, migrants from Pakistan historically have had a different relationship to the US that is shaped by their identification and racialization as Muslims. Based on ethnographic research with Pakistani migrants, I argue that the economic, cultural, and social effects of neoliberalism have produced the figure of “the Muslim” in the current global economy as racialized.

[Excerpted from Junaid Rana, Terrifying Muslims: Race and Labor in the South Asian Diaspora, by permission of the author. © 2011 by Duke University Press. For more information on the book, click here; to order the book, click here.]

New Texts Out Now: Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education

Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011.

Jadaliyya (J): What made you write this book?

Betty S. Anderson (BSA): I always joke that I conceived the project in the pool of the Carlton Hotel in Beirut. In June 2000, I visited Beirut for the first time so I could attend an Arab American University Graduate (AAUG) conference. One day, I walked with some friends all along the Corniche and up through the American University of Beirut (AUB) campus and then back to the hotel. Since it was late June and ridiculously hot, the only option at that point was to jump in the pool as quickly as possible. Two minutes in the pool and the thought occurred to me that my next research project was going to have to be about Beirut in some way. I had fallen in love with the city in just that one day. A half second later, I thought, I should write a history of AUB.

Besides the fact that I wanted to get back to Beirut as soon as possible, I wanted to know why AUB had been so influential in politicizing its students. At the time, I was doing additional research for my book on Jordan (Nationalist Voices in Jordan: The Street and the State) and a number of the political activists I studied had attended AUB. Their memoirs were filled with explanations and stories about how important those four years were for the development of their political identities. However, I had no idea as I floated in the pool that day that I’d have to do extensive research on Protestant missionaries and education long before I could even get to those Arab nationalists. At the time, I really knew relatively little about the school’s history.

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures does it address?

BSA: When I finally got back to Beirut in 2004, it was research on the educational systems offered at the Syrian Protestant College and AUB that eventually ended up directing my thesis. I was struck initially by the goals the American founders and their successors set for the school. They talked more about the transformative process they wanted the students to undertake than the course options they were offering. For example, Daniel Bliss (1866-1902) preached about producing Protestants who understood not only the liturgy but the lifestyle required of one converting to this faith; Bayard Dodge (1923-1948) exhorted students to follow the model of the modern American man as they sought to develop new characters for themselves. The former presided over a missionary educational system, the latter the new liberal education system then being formulated back in America. The first half of the book discusses this shift as the American University of Beirut was renamed in 1920.

\"\"
[Main gate of AUB campus. Photo by Betty S. Anderson.]

Liberal education, as American educators developed it in the second half of the nineteenth century, asks its students to be active participants in their educational experience. Before this point, professors taught their students a fixed body of knowledge; students were required to memorize and recite the data to prove that they had learned it. In liberal education, the system asks that professors teach students how to think and analyze so they can produce data on their own.

The second half of the book examines how the students reacted to this shifting pedagogical focus. The American leaders of the school repeatedly stated their goals for the students, and most books and articles on AUB focus on only those voices. However, that stance leaves out an important element of the AUB story, because only the students can truly determine whether the programs are effective. AUB is famous for the many student protests that have taken place on campus, starting with the Darwin Affair of 1882, leading to the Muslim Controversy of 1909, and then on to the large protests of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. As I discovered when I delved into the archives, students used dozens of newspapers to explain why they were protesting. The catalyst was always a particular event, on campus or off, but the students always framed their arguments around the freedom they felt the liberal education system promised. They fought against any administrative attempts to curtail their actions and frequently accused the administration of not following the guidelines set by American liberal education. This issue became increasingly contentious as students worked to define an Arab nationalism that called on them to be politically active while on campus. The administration continually opposed this position, and many of the student-administrative conflicts centered on the differing definitions of freedom put forward on campus. I put “Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education” in the subtitle of the book because by the twentieth century, these were the two dominant elements defining the relationship between the students and the administration.

J: How does this work connect to and/or depart from your previous research and writing?

BSA: Most of my work has centered on education in one form or another. In my book on Jordan, I wrote of the politicizing role high schools in Jordan and Palestine, as well as schools like AUB, played in mobilizing a national opposition movement in the 1950s. I have published a number of articles analyzing the narratives the Jordanian and Lebanese states present to their students in history and Islamic textbooks. Moving on to a comprehensive study of one particularly influential school was a natural progression. The difference was that I now had to study American education in the same way I had previously examined the influence of education in the Middle East.

J: Who do you hope will read this book, and what sort of impact would you like it to have?

BSA: I hope AUB alumni want to read the book and, equally, that they find something of their story in it. I did not want to cite just the Americans who founded and ran the school; I purposely wanted to write about the students themselves. Typical university histories leave out the words and actions of the students in favor of hagiographies about the founders and their famous successors. I also hope that scholars and students interested in studies of education and nationalism will be interested. This is a book that addresses both Middle Eastern and American studies.

\"\"\"\"
[Assembly Hall and College Hall, AUB Campus. Photos by Betty S. Anderson.]

J: What other projects are you working on now?

BSA:
I have a contract with Stanford University Press to publish a book called State and Society in the Modern Middle East. Like with anyone who undertakes to write a textbook, I am frustrated with those that are currently available. Textbooks of the modern Middle East typically focus just on state formation, the actions of the chief politicians, and the political interplay between states. My text focuses instead on the relationship between state and society as it developed over the last two hundred years. The states in the region centralized in the nineteenth century, faced colonialism in the early twentieth century, and then independence after World War II; these stages created new roles for state leaders. Civil society, in the broadest definition of the term, emerged from the eighteenth century forward as people sought new ways to organize within and against the states now intruding on their lives. They took advantage of the new institutions the states built to establish for themselves new class, national, and gender definitions, while frequently opposing the states that had introduced these very institutions. My text examines how schools, government offices, newspapers, political parties, and women’s groups constantly negotiated new relationships with their respective states.

Excerpt from The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education

From Chapter One:

"The great value of education does not consist in the accepting this and that to be true but it consists in proving this and that to be true," declared Daniel Bliss, founder of Syrian Protestant College (SPC; 1866–1920) and its president from 1866 to 1902, in his farewell address. President Howard Bliss (president, 1902–1920) said in his baccalaureate sermon in 1911, "In a word, the purpose of the College is not to produce singly or chiefly men who are doctors, men who are pharmacists, men who are merchants, men who are preachers, teachers, lawyers, editors, statesmen; but it is the purpose of the College to produce doctors who are men, pharmacists who are men, merchants who are men, preachers, teachers, lawyers, editors, statesmen who are men." Bayard Dodge (1923–1948) stated at his inauguration as president of the newly renamed American University of Beirut (AUB; 1920– ), "We do not attempt to force a student to absorb a definite quantity of knowledge, but we strive to teach him how to study. We do not pretend to give a complete course of instruction in four or five years, but rather to encourage the habit of study, as a foundation for an education as long as life itself." The successors to these men picked up the same themes when they elaborated on the school`s goals over the years; most recently, in May 2009, President Peter Dorman discussed his vision of AUB’s role. "AUB thrives today in much different form than our missionary founders would have envisioned, but nonetheless—after all this time—it remains dedicated to the same ideal of producing enlightened and visionary leaders."

In dozens of publications, SPC and AUB students have also asserted a vision of the transformative role the school should have on their lives. The longest surviving Arab society on campus, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa, published a magazine of the same name during most academic years between 1923 and 1954 and as of 1936 stated as its editorial policy the belief that "the magazine`s writing is synonymous with the Arab student struggle in the university." From that point forward, the editors frequently listed the society`s Arab nationalist goals. In the fall 1950 edition, for example, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa`s Committee on Broadcasting and Publications issued a statement identifying the achievement of Arab unity as the most important goal because "it is impossible to separate the history, literature and scientific inheritance of the Arabs" since "the Arab essence is unity." Toward this end, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa pledged to accelerate the "growth of the true nationalist spirit" among the students affiliated with the organization. In describing education as an activist pursuit, the statement declares, "To achieve political ideas which are aimed at our nationalism it is necessary for we as students to seek information by many different means." In this call, the AUB Arab students must take on the task of studying the Arab heritage as thoroughly and frankly as possible so that when they graduate they can move into society with solutions to the many problems plaguing the Arab world.

Since the school`s founding in 1866, its campus has stood at a vital intersection between a rapidly changing American missionary and educational project to the Middle East and a dynamic quest for Arab national identity and empowerment. As the presidential quotes indicate, the Syrian Protestant College and the American University of Beirut imported American educational systems championing character building as their foremost goal. Proponents of these programs hewed to the belief that American educational systems were the perfect tools for encouraging students to reform themselves and improve their societies; the programs do not merely supply professional skills but educate the whole person. As the quotes from al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa attest, Arab society pressured the students to change as well. The Arab nahda, or awakening, of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries called on students to take pride in their Arab past and to work to recreate themselves as modern leaders of their society; the Arab nationalist movement of the twentieth century asked that students take a lead in fighting for Arab independence from foreign control. The students streaming through the Main Gate year after year used both of these American and Arab elements to help make the school not only an American institution but also one of the Arab world and of Beirut, as the very name, the American University of Beirut, indicates. This process saw long periods of accommodation between the American-led administration and the Arab students, but just as many eras when conflict raged over the nature of authority each should wield on campus; the changing relationship between the administration and the students serves as the cornerstone of this book, for it is here where much of the educational history of SPC and AUB has been written.

From Chapter Five:

The 1952 April Fool’s Day issue of Outlook (called Lookout on that day) satirized the proliferation of student protests that had dominated campus life for the previous few years. In the paper’s lead article, the author declared, “A School of Revolutionary Government, designed to equip AUB students with a wide knowledge of modern techniques of conspiracy and revolution, is to be opened during the fall semester, a communique from the President’s Office announced late Friday.” Continuing the same theme, the article reports, “All courses will include a minimum of three lab hours to be spent in street battles with gendarmes and similar applications of theories learned in classrooms.” President Stephen Penrose (1948-1954), the article stated, gave a Friday morning chapel talk on the new school motto: “That they may have strife and have it more abundantly.” In a further announcement, the paper described the day’s protest.

There will be a demonstration this afternoon at three in front of the Medical Gate to object against everything[.] All those interested please report there promptly five [minutes] before time. The demonstration promises to be very exciting—tear gas will be used, and the slogans are simply delightful. If all goes well, police interference is expected. If not to join, come and watch.

This, of course, had not been the first era of student protest; the difference by the 1950s was the widespread and sustained nature of the conflict between the administration and the students. When Lookout published its satirical articles in 1952, students had been organizing demonstrations in support of Palestinians and Moroccans, and against any and all things imperialist, since 1947; these events only petered out in 1955 as the administration banned the two main groups organizing them, the Student Council and the Arab society, al-cUrwa al-Wuthqa. Students engaged in these exercises explicitly as Arabs, proud of their past, and striving toward cultural, political and economic unity in the future. In their actions, students sought to integrate their educational experiences at AUB with the real-life events taking place outside the Main Gate, for only then did they feel they could be trained to function as the vanguard initiating the necessary changes in their society.

[Excerpted from Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education. © 2011 by The University of Texas Press. Excerpted by permission of the author. For more information, or to order the book, click here.]