New Texts Out Now: Maaike Voorhoeve, Family Law in Islam

[Cover of Maaike Voorhoeve, \"Family Law in Islam: Divorce, Marriage and Women in the Muslim World.\"] [Cover of Maaike Voorhoeve, \"Family Law in Islam: Divorce, Marriage and Women in the Muslim World.\"]

New Texts Out Now: Maaike Voorhoeve, Family Law in Islam

By : Maaike Voorhoeve

Maaike Voorhoeve, editor, Family Law in Islam: Divorce, Marriage and Women in the Muslim World. London and New York: I. B. Tauris, 2012.

Jadaliyya (J): What led you to edit this book?

Maaike Voorhoeve (MV): When I started my PhD on the contemporary application of Tunisian family law by Tunisian judges, my idea was as follows: the Tunisian family code deviates significantly from Islamic law, and therefore it is interesting to examine if judges apply the code, or whether they apply Islamic law instead. This approach was informed by other studies on family law in the Muslim world that focus on the relationship between legislation and Islam. But during my fieldwork, I realized that the presumption that there is such a dichotomy is actually a prejudice, and that I should let go of this idea in order to be able to see what was going on. I needed to enter the field with a clean mind, without any thoughts about Islam, or even custom, whatsoever. I think that in the end, I got to actually see much more than if I had held on to this prejudice, and I felt like I should somehow spread the word that we should stop looking at law (and other institutions and practices) in the region through the “Islam”-lens.

But of course, I was not the first to have this illumination. In the writings of Baudouin Dupret, among others, this idea comes to the forefront. This is why I decided to bring together academics who work on family law in the region and who apply what I call a “bottom-up approach,” in the sense that they try to look at what is going on in the field of marriage and divorce with an open mind. I organized two panels on family law at the World Congress for Middle East Studies (WOCMES) in Barcelona in the summer of 2010, which was a great success, in the sense that I felt that I had found soul-mates. Therefore, I decided to take it one step further, to bring our approach to a larger audience than the WOCMES one, and to make a book out of it. A number of the papers presented at the conference were transformed into chapters for the book, which I. B. Tauris decided to publish.

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

MV: All our contributions are about matters of marriage and divorce, but each focuses on a particular country in the region (Tunisia, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Iran, and Yemen). The book is divided into two parts: the first part talks about public debates on family law reforms, and the second part talks about practices of judges, lawyers, and litigants. All contributions apply the “bottom-up approach,” in the sense that all contributions look at what people do. The authors have different backgrounds, ranging from law to anthropology and political science. But I think that all are informed by sociological and anthropological methods and literature, mainly ethnography.

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

MV: Just like any other academic, I surely hope that this book shall reach a larger audience than academia alone. Family law in the Muslim world is a hot topic in public debates in the West and in the region itself, and I think that it is a duty for academics not so much to participate in such debates, but to contribute to them by providing data and theoretical frameworks to address these topics. In that way, we can hopefully ensure that the people who are participating in these debates are informed. In the case of this book, we hope to inform people of what the situation is like in practice.

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[Maaike Voorhoeve. Image via the author.]

For example: in the West, many people still think that every issue in the Muslim region is governed by Islam, especially questions of marriage and divorce. This image is often accompanied by the idea that since Islam governs everything, there must be huge inequalities between men and women. But what the chapters in the book on public debates demonstrate is that on the one hand, the role of Islam in legislation is highly contested in the countries themselves, where factions in society call for a “secularization” of the law, and that the Islam-argument can be used to enhance gender equality. By giving insight into practices and debates, this book opens the way to a more nuanced image of law in the region.

As the world seems to be particularly interested in the region after the “Arab uprisings,” we hope that we can reach an even larger audience than when we started with our project; indeed, although all the contributions address the situation from before the uprisings, the topic is even more timely nowadays, as the aftermath of the “revolutions” is characterized by intensified debates on personal status law.

J: What other projects are you working on now?

MV: I am currently working on several legal aspects of the “revolution” in Tunisia, again with a bottom-up approach. I recently finished an article about how people in Tunisia wish to deal with the crimes committed by the Ben Ali regime, focusing not only on human rights offences but also on corruption. I’m also looking at debates on women’s rights after the revolution, and I’m currently writing an article on “political” justice, namely the recent development that courts are taking a very “conservative” stance towards issues of nudity, blasphemy, etc.—for example, by convicting two men to seven and a half years imprisonment for their cartoons of Mohammed that they published on Facebook. Beginning in September 2012, I will be affiliated with Harvard, where I shall study the public debates on the role of Islamic law in the new Tunisian constitution.

Excerpt from Family Law in Islam: Divorce, Marriage and Women in the Muslim World

From the Introduction (by Baudouin Dupret and Maaike Voorhoeve)

Since they were mainly considered an offspring of the jurisprudential corpus called “Islamic law,” the many legal systems of the Middle East and North Africa (MENA) used to be treated in terms of their relationship to Islam. The direct outcome of this tendency was to ascribe overarching importance to Islam in the inception and organization of the law, and to minimize those specificities of each country which had proceeded from the historical and social circumstances of their recent development. In other words, Islam’s influence was overemphasized, while the impact of socio-political transformation was neglected. […] Focusing on the theme of Islamic law, researchers forgot to consider that the law is a daily and ordinary activity, with litigants trying to settle their problems and professionals carrying out their jobs. Legal activities are performed for all practical purposes, and therefore their study must primarily consist of the description of what people do when using legal provisions and institutions. To put it bluntly, law is first of all a conflict-resolution or guarantee-setting device, not the symbolic reflection of society’s unconscious.

…the descriptive approach […] restricts itself to the task of examining how Islam is invoked and referred to by those people who, at some point in their daily life, orient their talk and actions towards it. In that sense, Islam cannot be found outside its practice, and describing something as “Islamic” is to ascribe to it the quality of being closely related to Islam, whatever the “something” in question. Thus “Islamic law” corresponds to what people consider as specifically Islamic in the law, independent of any consideration about the truth of such a claim.[1]

People address the issue of sharia for very different purposes. When demanding its implementation in a country, activists address a legal theme for political purposes. When assessing whether a law is in conformity with Article 2 of the Egyptian Constitution, which stipulates that “the principles of sharia are the main source of legislation,” the Egyptian Supreme Constitutional Court deals with the same theme for judicial and constitutional purposes. And when the heading of a Western newspaper states that the stoning of an Iranian woman “is a symbolic issue, but it is at the same time the whole sharia that is questionable” (Le Soir, 28 August 2010), it is clear that the journalist’s purpose is related to the ongoing debate in Europe on the so-called “clash of civilizations.” An adequate description of how different people address the issue of sharia shows that the latter is not seen in the same light—or as “the same thing”—simply because the same word is used. To put it in a different way, people are oriented towards the notion of sharia in a way that is sensitive to the context in which it is used and to the practice in which they are engaged.

Such contexts are, broadly speaking, of two types. On the one hand there is the context of ongoing public debates, where the issue of law is a theme and a resource for addressing a matter that is not specifically legal. On the other hand, there is the legal context as such, where law is a textual source, an achievement and a practice. In other words, there is a discourse on the law and a discourse of the law, i.e. law as a topic and law as a performance: and there is a huge gap between these two conceptions of law. This gap is not related to a difference in the substance of what is at stake, but to a difference in the goal-orientation of the protagonists, i.e. what we call their practical purposes. Doing politics is very different from adjudicating; writing an open editorial aims at something other than formulating a plea; claiming that sharia is a kind of Pole Star of a regime’s legitimacy is technically and consequentially different from the search for fiqh-based solutions in the formulation and implementation of a ruling; and so on. When not taking these fundamental differences into account—an omission that comes about merely by sticking to the words people utter without looking at what they are doing when they utter them—research misses the phenomenon it purports to explore. It remains fascinated by the power of terms endowed with an intrinsic, essential meaning, independent of their practical uses. Thus, for instance, the Arabic word tashri‘ is supposed to convey a reference to the divine on the sole basis of its etymology[2]—“referring to sharia” (shari‘a)—while a competent look into contemporary legal systems shows that the word has the direct, obvious sense of “legislation.” Similarly, it is supposed that the Islamic state is intrinsically instable, because the etymology of the Arabic word used to capture this institution (dawla) conveys the notion of a cyclic change (see Bernard Lewis).[3] Phrased in an anthropological way, the same cultural concept has resulted in attributing intrinsic meanings to words such as haqq, which are deemed to convey the power of their supposed linguistic “origins” (see Geertz), instead of simply expressing ideas related to the context of their uses (e.g. the “right” to do this or that, or one of God’s names, or the “truth” of a statement).[4]

Instead of deriving the meaning of words from assumptions about their etymology, research should arrive at a description of what people do in actual contexts. However, this does not mean that words are devoid of any importance, that talk is opposed to action, or that, in the sphere of law, there is a conflict between “living law” and state law. Indeed, there is a classical dichotomy in socio-legal studies that opposes the law set out in codes, rulings and jurisprudence to the law as it can be observed in action, that is, when performed by flesh-and-blood human beings. Although this distinction stems from a positive intent—that one should not merely stick to legal formulations in order to study the law—it queers researchers’ pitch by artificially severing legal practice from one of their main resources, i.e. legal texts. The law is mostly performed through direct or indirect references to formal sources, which protagonists use to orient themselves in choosing a way forward. This issue of rule-following, which has been much debated in philosophy, can be dealt with, when turning to more empirical contexts, through the notion of “instructed action.”[5] Instead of considering that legal rules and legal practice each work autonomously, it suggests that they can indeed be distinguished analytically, but empirically function in an interdependent way: a rule is always a rule-instructing-an-action (since a rule alone has no existence but on paper) and the action is always an action-as-constrained-by-a-rule (since an action cannot be characterized as legal if it has no connection to a rule). This mode of describing the law has the double advantage of doing justice to the teleological formulation of legal rules—i.e. which aim at being implemented—and to the legal protagonists’ systematic referencing of them—whether to apply or evade them.

NOTES

[1] Baudouin Dupret, Adjudication in Action (Aldershot, 2011).
[2] See the Encyclopaedia of Islam, second edition.
[3] Bernard Lewis, Le langage politique de l`Islam (Paris, 1988).
[4] Clifford Geertz, Local Knowledge: Further Essays in Interpretive Anthropology (New York, 1983).
[5] Eric Livingston, An Anthropology of Reading (Bloomington and Indianapolis, 1995) and Baudouin Dupret, Adjudication in Action (Aldershot, 2011).

[Excerpted from Family Law in Islam: Divorce, Marriage and Women in the Muslim World, edited by Maaike Voorhoeve, by permission of the editor. Copyright editorial selections and introduction © 2012 Maaike Voorhoeve. For more information, or to purchase this book, please 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.

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[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.

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[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.]