Mohamed Wajdi Ben Hammed, “Dispossession and Hybridity: The Neoliberal Moroccan City in Mohammed Achaari’s Literary Enterprise” (New Texts Out Now)

Mohamed Wajdi Ben Hammed, “Dispossession and Hybridity: The Neoliberal Moroccan City in Mohammed Achaari’s Literary Enterprise” (New Texts Out Now)

Mohamed Wajdi Ben Hammed, “Dispossession and Hybridity: The Neoliberal Moroccan City in Mohammed Achaari’s Literary Enterprise” (New Texts Out Now)

By : Mohamed Wajdi Ben Hammed

Mohamed Wajdi Ben Hammed, “Dispossession and Hybridity: The Neoliberal Moroccan City in Mohammed Achaari’s Literary Enterprise”Arab Studies Journal (Fall, 2019).

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

Mohamed Wajdi Ben Hammed (MWBH): This article stems from one of my streams of research, namely modern Arabic literature and cinema’s engagement with neoliberal globalism. I am interested in how novels and films from North Africa increasingly locate the formative force behind a number of sociopolitical problems in the erosion of the welfare state, increasing privatization, and the economization of all aspects of life. I think these visual and narrative texts are crucial as they put into question discourses that attempt to explain major sociopolitical issues of the region through the category of culture or local political dynamics. 

For example, the Arab Spring, as it continues to unfold in Tunisia (my home country), demonstrates how the neoliberal mode of governance is a major factor posing a threat to a true democratic transition. The research of Andrea Teti, Adam Hanieh, and Colin Powers is helpful in this respect as they demonstrate how the neoliberal constraints on the Tunisian state (the prescriptive of diminishing the public sector and expanding deregulation to attract foreign investment) are specifically what obstructs the demands of the Tunisian people for social democracy and redistributive reforms. This obstruction leads to the “hollowing” of the political system, and to the disenchantment of Tunisians with a representative democracy which manifests as empty rhetoric. Yet, dominant trends in Western scholarship on Arab politics have long discussed the success or failures of democratization in the region and the popular embrace of its values through the lens of cultural compatibility, internal social systems, and regional politics, with economic liberalization as an important step in the democratic process. 

Social and political commitments mark postcolonial Arabic literature. In the last three decades of artistic production in the region, literary and cinematic discourses convey an increasing mood of fragmentation, claustrophobia, existential disorientation, grotesqueness, and sexual violence, as well as the emergence of models of subjectivity that are radically disenchanted with social, cultural, and political life in the region. In the critical reception of this mood, there is a tendency to marginalize its historical roots, and interpret its qualities as Arabic experimentations with a global postmodern aesthetic. This aesthetic rejects master narratives (both ideological and formal) and, to use Jean-François Loytard’s terms, locates viable truths only in localized language games. The adoption of this critical stance can be rewarding as long as it does not lose sight of the formative historical currents behind this aesthetic. The desire to historicize this mood of Arabic novelistic production, and link it to contemporary developments in the political economy of the region, motivates this article.            

The themes I analyze include the experience of dispossession in the neoliberal city, which submits to the control of foreign and local capital ...

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

MWBH: In exploring the dramatization of the neoliberal city in Mohammed Achaari’s oeuvres, I make recourse to two bodies of literature: scholarship on the postcolonial Arabic novel by Sabry Hafez, Jaber Asfour, Muhsin al-Musawi, Abdelkebir Khatibi, and Karima Laachir; and scholarship on capitalist modernity by Anthony Giddens and, largely, Bruno Latour. The first body of literature serves to situate my analysis of Achaari’s texts as pertaining to contemporary Arabic narratives of social protest that focus on urban life in the post-liberalization period. The second body of literature supplies the theoretical framework that I adopt in my reading of Achaari’s The Arch and the Butterfly. I mainly engage Bruno Latour’s views of modernity’s “practices of translation” (which produce radical hybrids between the natural, the cultural, the global, and the local), and how they are masked and accelerated by “practices of purification” that emphasize rational order and the differentiation between categories as the hallmark of being modern. Latour’s diagnosis of modernity guides my reading of the various hybrid phenomena that populate the textual universe in Achaari’s novel and contribute significantly to the central tragedy of the narrative. The themes I analyze include the experience of dispossession in the neoliberal city, which submits to the control of foreign and local capital, as well as the issues of youth culture and youth radicalization, which are significantly influenced by these experiences.

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

MWBH: In my previous article, entitled “Heterotopias of the Neoliberal Egyptian State in Sonallah Ibrahim’s Narratives,” I analyzed Ibrahim’s use of space in three of his novels as a theatrical stage that exposes the multiple forms of violence the neoliberal state exerts on its population. I argued that the development of the plot in Ibrahim’s texts leads the protagonists and the readers to heterotopic sites of deviation and non-normativity that reflect the totality of the normative order which governs life in post-Nasserite Egypt. My current article follows the same line of research but focuses on the theme of hybridity in Moroccan urban life as portrayed in the work of Mohammed Achaari. I analyze how Achaari’s text links a familial tragedy to disruptive changes that are reconstituting the cultural identity of a number of Moroccan cities to become attractions for foreign capital. 

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

MWBH: This article is relevant to scholars of Arabic literature, particularly those who adopt a comparative perspective in exploring the link between the artistic production of the region and its political economy. It may also be of interest to scholars working on the cultural effects of neoliberalism in Arab countries. 

This article aims to move beyond the formalistic, close-reading approach in analyzing modern Arabic literature. It does this by adopting a theoretical framework that connects the unifying reality of capitalist modernity, the literary enterprise of the author as intervention within a cultural field, and the practices of storytelling within the text.  

J: What other projects are you working on now?

MWBH: I am currently researching the theme of time in Islamic mysticism. I am exploring how a number of Arab thinkers and writers in the post-1967 period engage this theme, in order to translate Existentialist and Marxist ideas into an Arabic Islamic diction, and to negotiate the experience of radical disenchantment with the post-socialist state. I continue my research into literary questioning of the neoliberal state, focusing, however, on the themes of time and temporality. I analyze how this pre-modern concept of time is engaged by the Egyptian writer Gamal al-Ghitani to deliver an existential elegy on the passing of the Nasserite state, and to condemn the ideological realignment of Egypt with the capitalist camp under Anwar Sadat.

J: The theoretical discourse in your article seems to be focused on the questions of modernity and globalization. In what ways do these concepts inspire your work?

MWBH: I am interested in reading modern Arabic literature with an eye to the ways it interacts with, problematizes, and internalizes regimes of power and truth that are operative in a postcolonial capitalist modernity. Beyond the debates on the Western origin of the modern novel, which the analytical models of critics such as Franco Moretti and Pascale Casanova animate, I am interested in how modern Arab writers engage practices of storytelling which are native to Arabic culture and its pre-modern literary tradition, adab, to dramatize a precarious postcolonial modernity that is materializing in volatile forms. Regarding modernity as a theoretical question, I find the work of Anthony Giddens, Walter Mignolo, and Sudipta Kaviraj helpful in understanding modernity not as a uniform universal concept, but as the product of both the material propagation of colonial capital and the forms of resistances and capitulations it faces in the path of its globalization. This historical itinerary makes modernity a kaleidoscopic projection appearing in different shapes and forms. 

This perspective of reality must be reckoned with before the adoption of Hegelian-inspired notions of modernity as self-realization, through a dialectical historical process, of a subjectivity based on autonomy and rationalism (both a political subjectivity materialized in the modern state and a philosophical subjectivity as a new concept of the human and her ethics). In this vein, I find very helpful the line of thinking which approaches tradition and modernity as a coeval analytical pair produced by the same discursive gesture, rather than being successive historical stages. The latter stance, which is a hegemonic one, leads to the pathologizing of the question of tradition in modernity. By extension, and to use Dipesh Chakrabarty’s terms, it relegates entire populations outside the Euro-American cultural sphere to a pre-modern “waiting room of history.” 

 

Excerpt from the article 

Moving through The Arch and the Butterfly, the reader notices how the proliferation of radical hybrids intensifies with the restructuring of the Moroccan economy under global power flows. Latour remarks that the contemporary production of volatile hybrids has entered a new cycle of acceleration in the last thirty years of neoliberal triumph. The neoliberal agenda includes liquidating the public sector and opening local markets to deregulated foreign capital. This agenda submits the networks of the social to an economic engine that operates through what David Harvey called “accumulation by dispossession.” It is a regime of systematic dispossession and dangerous hybridity which leaves visible marks on social lives and local space.

In North Africa, Morocco represents a leading example of conversion to the “iron cage” of free-market economic principles. Its cities reflect how neoliberal policy prescriptions are machines producing radical hybrids. With their politicized edge, novels of social realism engage these emerging phenomena. They offer insight into the affective experiences of social conditions whose lived quality is only partially accessible to theoretical discourse. Most importantly, they offer forms of identification and misidentification that are always operative on subjectivity. In Inquiry into Modes of Existence, Latour remarks, “A work of art engages us, and if it is quite true that it has to be interpreted, at no point do we have the feeling that we are free to do ‘whatever we want’ with it. If the work needs a subjectiveinterpretation, it is in a very special sense of the adjective: we are subject to it, or rather we win our subjectivitythrough it.” Contemporary Moroccan social realist novels expose the various forms of violence inflicted on the average citizen, and thus produce a subject that is aware of the links between her daily misery and neocolonial agendas. The Arch and the Butterfly is a literary mise-en-scène of the local effects of these global dynamics. It turns the theoretical insight on neoliberal globalism into a narrative simulacrum of lived reality reflecting the work of hybridity within and without.  

[…]

The novel’s focal point is the second familial narrative: the story of the protagonist, Youssef al-Firsiwi, and his son. It unfolds between Rabat and Marrakesh, two cities that are intimately present in the characters’ lives. When Youssef al-Firsiwi opens a letter that he found slipped under the door of his apartment, he is immediately transformed into a tragic hero wondering what caused his downfall. The letter reads, “Rejoice, Abu Yacine, God has honored you with your son’s martyrdom.” One line captures the perplexing nature of this turn of events: the narrator describes the strange transformation in the life of Yacine, who “had sprung from the loins of a pure socialist and died in the arms of fundamentalists.” In the protagonist’s quest to understand this radical shift, the connection between the familial tragedy and larger politics of the city become central. Youssef’s quest to understand his son’s motivations is fruitless. But the surreal conversations with his deceased son reveal a mutual sense of alienation with the quality of life in the neoliberal city.

Yacine’s death triggers the collapse of the protagonist’s marriage. Youssef becomes overwhelmed by a sense of loss that, for the first months, manifests psychosomatically as a loss of his sense of smell. After a period of grief, Youssef becomes increasingly invested in exploring the connections between spatial transformations, political events, and social conditions. He states:

Yacine, simply by being killed, became an eternal child. He transformed into a being who would accompany me, emerging from his dark world whenever he wanted, and with whom I would share the details of my daily life. . . I would talk with him for hours as I crossed Rabat from Bab Tamesna to the edge of the river, passing through Al-Nasr Street, Moulay Youssef Street, Alawite Square, and then the flower market, all the way to Al-Jazaïr Street and the offices of the newspaper where I worked. . . . Together Yacine and I commented on the roadworks we came across as we walked, or the demonstrations, or the beautiful women. Sometimes we delved into our old issues and talked about revolutions, betrayals and the death of illusions.

As the narrative unfolds, these conversations point to the urban changes occurring in the city of Marrakesh. 

The novel presents Marrakesh as a city where foreign investors and their local compradors profit from increasing deregulation, bureaucratic corruption, and the availability of coercive means to refashion urban space in ways that deeply alienate the general population. These foreign and local forces employ coercion or conscription to force the inhabitants to abandon their homes as they transform certain parts of the city into a destination for Western tourists pursuing an orientalist fantasy. 

The narrative provides numerous examples that depict this economic condition in the urban setting, divided between foreign flows of power and local corrupt financial rings. One of the protagonist’s friends, Ahmad Majd (himself a real estate developer), spent a considerable amount of money renovating his father’s house in the medina. The narrator notes: “As soon as the house was at its most splendid and had become the weekly meeting place for our group, one of the city’s big shots developed a taste for it and devised a number of reasons why Ahmad should sell it to him, either by force or voluntarily. He put pressure on Ahmad through his business acquaintances and his friends, using incitement and intimidations, as well as suggestions of attractive partnerships. He involved foreigners and people with power in these manoeuvres.” Because he resists pressure to sell the house, Majd becomes the target of blackmail with sex tapes and subject to threats of physical harm. 

These local rings of financial crime hold a great amount of power because of their close ties to political authority and their role as compradors for foreign capital. Commenting on his refusal to renounce possession of his house, Ahmad Majd asserts that it “was among the few liberated areas of the city that rich French people had reoccupied without colonisation or a protectorate.” Here and in other places in the novel, foreign capital crystalizes as the new colonial presence.

Marrakesh emerges as a hybrid space where the modern and the historical, the local and the foreign, the authentic and the artificial, merge together violently to create a performance of a composite cultural identity that is fit for a tourist destination. The narrator states: 

Marrakesh had, in fact, literally and figuratively lost its authenticity over the last ten years. Property prices shot sky high; the old houses, the riyadhs and the hotels were lost to their original owners. An earthquake shook the city, wiping away historical lanes, alleyways and neighborhoods, for palaces, restaurants, residences and guesthouses to sprout in their place. A property war broke out among the new owners, pushing them to compete in building amazing edifices suitable for their exotic dreams. They pulled ceilings, doors and mosaics from here and there, spreading fever in the joints of old houses, which had to endure the sawing, chopping and extracting of their parts. . . In this jumble, for which they received official permits as a way to restore the memory of the city, that memory was totally and permanently obliterated. 

Describing urban space, Mohammed Achaari constantly evokes the image of mosaics. But he negates their aesthetic significance and emphasizes their composite reality. The act of reconstruction that brings together fragments of heterogeneous parts culminates in a culturally incongruous urban space and violated social imaginaries.

New Texts Out Now: Mandy Turner and Cherine Hussein, guest eds. "Israel-Palestine after Oslo: Mapping Transformations in a Time of Deepening Crisis." Special Issue of Conflict, Security & Development

Conflict, Security and Development, Volume 15, No. 5 (December 2015) Special issue: "Israel-Palestine after Oslo: Mapping Transformations in a Time of Deepening Crisis," Guest Editors: Mandy Turner and Cherine Hussein.

Jadaliyya (J): What made you compile this volume?

Mandy Turner (MT): Both the peace process and the two-state solution are dead. Despite more than twenty years of negotiations, Israel’s occupation, colonization and repression continue–and the political and geographical fragmentation of the Palestinian people is proceeding apace.

This is not news, nor is it surprising to any keen observer of the situation. But what is surprising–and thus requires explanation – is the resilience of the Oslo framework and paradigm: both objectively and subjectively. It operates objectively as a straitjacket by trapping Palestinians in economic and security arrangements that are designed to ensure stabilization and will not to lead to sovereignty or a just and sustainable solution. And it operates subjectively as a straitjacket by shutting out discussion of alternative ways of understanding the situation and ways out of the impasse. The persistence of this framework that is focused on conflict management and stabilization, is good for Israel but bad for Palestinians.

The Oslo peace paradigm–of a track-one, elite-level, negotiated two-state solution–is therefore in crisis. And yet it is entirely possible that the current situation could continue for a while longer–particularly given the endorsement and support it enjoys from the major Western donors and the “international community,” as well as the fact that there has been no attempt to develop an alternative. The immediate short-term future is therefore bleak.

Guided by these observations, this special issue sought to undertake two tasks. The first task was to analyze the perceptions underpinning the Oslo framework and paradigm as well as some of the transformations instituted by its implementation: why is it so resilient, what has it created? The second task, which follows on from the first, was then to ask: how can we reframe our understanding of what is happening, what are some potential alternatives, and who is arguing and mobilizing for them?

These questions and themes grew out of a number of conversations with early-career scholars – some based at the Kenyon Institute in East Jerusalem, and some based in the occupied Palestinian territory and elsewhere. These conversations led to two interlinked panels at the International Studies Association annual convention in Toronto, Canada, in March 2014. To have two panels accepted on “conflict transformation and resistance in Palestine” at such a conventional international relations conference with (at the time unknown) early-career scholars is no mean feat. The large and engaged audience we received at these panels – with some very established names coming along (one of whom contributed to this special issue) – convinced us that this new stream of scholars and scholarship should have an outlet.  

J: What particular topics, issues, and literatures do the articles address?

MT: The first half of the special issue analyzes how certain problematic assumptions shaped the Oslo framework, and how the Oslo framework in turn shaped the political, economic and territorial landscape.

Virginia Tilley’s article focuses on the paradigm of conflict resolution upon which the Oslo Accords were based, and calls for a re-evaluation of what she argues are the two interlinked central principles underpinning its worldview: internationally accepted notions of Israeli sovereignty; and the internationally accepted idea that the “conflict” is essentially one between two peoples–the “Palestinian people” and the “Jewish people”. Through her critical interrogation of these two “common sense” principles, Tilley proposes that the “conflict” be reinterpreted as an example of settler colonialism, and, as a result of this, recommends an alternative conflict resolution model based on a paradigm shift away from an ethno-nationalist division of the polity towards a civic model of the nation.

Tariq Dana unpacks another central plank of the Oslo paradigm–that of promoting economic relations between Israel and the OPT. He analyses this through the prism of “economic peace” (particularly the recent revival of theories of “capitalist peace”), whose underlying assumptions are predicated on the perceived superiority of economic approaches over political approaches to resolving conflict. Dana argues that there is a symbiosis between Israeli strategies of “economic peace” and recent Palestinian “statebuilding strategies” (referred to as Fayyadism), and that both operate as a form of pacification and control because economic cooperation leaves the colonial relationship unchallenged.

The political landscape in the OPT has been transformed by the Oslo paradigm, particularly by the creation of the Palestinian Authority (PA). Alaa Tartir therefore analyses the basis, agenda and trajectory of the PA, particularly its post-2007 state building strategy. By focusing on the issue of local legitimacy and accountability, and based on fieldwork in two sites in the occupied West Bank (Balata and Jenin refugee camps), Tartir concludes that the main impact of the creation of the PA on ordinary people’s lives has been the strengthening of authoritarian control and the hijacking of any meaningful visions of Palestinian liberation.

The origin of the administrative division between the West Bank and Gaza Strip is the focus of Tareq Baconi’s article. He charts how Hamas’s initial opposition to the Oslo Accords and the PA was transformed over time, leading to its participation (and success) in the 2006 legislative elections. Baconi argues that it was the perceived demise of the peace process following the collapse of the Camp David discussions that facilitated this change. But this set Hamas on a collision course with Israel and the international community, which ultimately led to the conflict between Hamas and Fateh, and the administrative division, which continues to exist.

The special issue thereafter focuses, in the second section, on alternatives and resistance to Oslo’s transformations.

Cherine Hussein’s article charts the re-emergence of the single-state idea in opposition to the processes of separation unleashed ideologically and practically that were codified in the Oslo Accords. Analysing it as both a movement of resistance and as a political alternative to Oslo, while recognizing that it is currently largely a movement of intellectuals (particularly of diaspora Palestinians and Israelis), Hussein takes seriously its claim to be a more just and liberating alternative to the two-state solution.

My article highlights the work of a small but dedicated group of anti-Zionist Jewish-Israeli activists involved in two groups: Zochrot and Boycott from Within. Both groups emerged in the post-Second Intifada period, which was marked by deep disillusionment with the Oslo paradigm. This article unpacks the alternative – albeit marginalized – analysis, solution and route to peace proposed by these groups through the application of three concepts: hegemony, counter-hegemony and praxis. The solution, argue the activists, lies in Israel-Palestine going through a process of de-Zionization and decolonization, and the process of achieving this lies in actions in solidarity with Palestinians.

This type of solidarity action is the focus of the final article by Suzanne Morrison, who analyses the “We Divest” campaign, which is the largest divestment campaign in the US and forms part of the wider Palestinian Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions movement. Through attention to their activities and language, Morrison shows how “We Divest”, with its networked, decentralized, grassroots and horizontal structure, represents a new way of challenging Israel’s occupation and the suppression of Palestinian rights.

The two parts of the special issue are symbiotic: the critique and alternative perspectives analyzed in part two are responses to the issues and problems identified in part one.

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

MT: My work focuses on the political economy of donor intervention (which falls under the rubric of “peacebuilding”) in the OPT, particularly a critique of the Oslo peace paradigm and framework. This is a product of my broader conceptual and historical interest in the sociology of intervention as a method of capitalist expansion and imperial control (as explored in “The Politics of International Intervention: the Tyranny of Peace”, co-edited with Florian Kuhn, Routledge, 2016), and how post-conflict peacebuilding and development agendas are part of this (as explored in “Whose Peace: Critical Perspectives on the Political Economy of Peacebuilding”, co-edited with Michael Pugh and Neil Cooper (PalgraveMacmillan, 2008).  

My first book on Palestine (co-edited with Omar Shweiki), Decolonizing Palestinian Political Economy: De-development and Beyond (PalgraveMacmillan, 2014), was a collection of essays by experts in their field, of the political-economic experience of different sections of the Palestinian community. The book, however, aimed to reunite these individual experiences into one historical political-economy narrative of a people experiencing a common theme of dispossession, disenfranchisement and disarticulation. It was guided by the desire to critically assess the utility of the concept of de-development to different sectors and issues–and had a foreword by Sara Roy, the scholar who coined the term, and who was involved in the workshop from which the book emerged.

This co-edited special issue (with Cherine Hussein, who, at the time of the issue construction, was the deputy director of the Kenyon Institute) was therefore the next logical step in my research on Palestine, although my article on Jewish-Israeli anti-Zionists did constitute a slight departure from my usual focus.

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

MT: I would imagine the main audience will be those whose research and political interests lie in Palestine Studies. It is difficult, given the structure of academic publishing – which has become ever more corporate and money grabbing – for research outputs such as this to be accessed by the general public. Only those with access to academic libraries are sure to be able to read it – and this is a travesty, in my opinion. To counteract this commodification of knowledge, we should all provide free access to our outputs through online open source websites such as academia.edu, etc. If academic research is going to have an impact beyond merely providing more material for teaching and background reading for yet more research (which is inaccessible to the general public) then this is essential. Websites such as Jadaliyya are therefore incredibly important.

Having said all that, I am under no illusions about the potential for ANY research on Israel-Palestine to contribute to changing the dynamics of the situation. However, as a collection of excellent analyses conducted by mostly early-career scholars in the field of Palestine studies, I am hopeful that their interesting and new perspectives will be read and digested. 

J: What other projects are you working on now?

MT: I am currently working on an edited volume provisionally entitled From the River to the Sea: Disintegration, Reintegration and Domination in Israel and Palestine. This book is the culmination of a two-year research project funded by the British Academy, which analyzed the impacts of the past twenty years of the Oslo peace framework and paradigm as processes of disintegration, reintegration and domination – and how they have created a new socio-economic and political landscape, which requires new agendas and frameworks. I am also working on a new research project with Tariq Dana at Birzeit University on capital and class in the occupied West Bank.

Excerpt from the Editor’s Note 

[Note: This issue was published in Dec. 2015]

Initially perceived to have inaugurated a new era of hope in the search for peace and justice in Palestine-Israel, the Oslo peace paradigm of a track one, elite-level, negotiated two-state solution is in crisis today, if not completely at an end.

While the major Western donors and the ‘international community’ continue to publicly endorse the Oslo peace paradigm, Israeli and Palestinian political elites have both stepped away from it. The Israeli government has adopted what appears to be an outright rejection of the internationally-accepted end-goal of negotiations, i.e. the emergence of a Palestinian state based on the 1967 borders with East Jerusalem as its capital. In March 2015, in the final days of his re-election campaign, Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, visited the Jewish settlement of Har Homa in Palestinian East Jerusalem, which is regarded as illegal under international law. Reminding its inhabitants that it was him and his Likud government that had established the settlement in 1997 as part of the Israeli state’s vision of a unified indivisible Jerusalem, he promised to expand the construction of settlements in East Jerusalem if re-elected. And in an interview with Israeli news site, NRG, Netanyahu vowed that the prospects of a Palestinian state were non-existent as long as he remained in office. Holding on to the occupied Palestinian territory (oPt), he argued, was necessary to ensure Israel’s security in the context of regional instability and Islamic extremism. It is widely acknowledged that Netanyahu’s emphasis on Israel’s security—against both external and internal enemies—gave him a surprise win in an election he was widely expected to lose.

Despite attempts to backtrack under recognition that the US and European states are critical of this turn in official Israeli state policy, Netanyahu’s promise to bury the two-state solution in favour of a policy of further annexation has become the Israeli government’s official intent, and has been enthusiastically endorsed by leading ministers and key advisers.

[…]

The Palestinian Authority (PA) based in the West Bank also appears to have rejected a key principle of the Oslo peace paradigm—that of bilateral negotiations under the supervision of the US. Despite a herculean effort by US Secretary of State, John Kerry, to bring the two parties to the negotiating table, in response to the lack of movement towards final status issues and continued settlement expansion (amongst other issues), the Palestinian political elite have withdrawn from negotiations and resumed attempts to ‘internationalise the struggle’ by seeking membership of international organisations such as the United Nations (UN), and signing international treaties such as the Rome Statute, the founding treaty of the International Criminal Court. This change of direction is part of a rethink in the PA and PLO’s strategy rooted in wider discussions and debates. The publication of a document by the Palestine Strategy Study Group (PSSG) in August 2008, the production of which involved many members of the Palestinian political elite (and whose recommendations were studiously discussed at the highest levels of the PA and PLO), showed widespread discontent with the bilateral negotiations framework and suggested ways in which Palestinians could ‘regain the initiative’.

[…]

And yet despite these changes in official Palestinian and Israeli political strategies that signal a deepening of the crisis, donors and the ‘international community’ are reluctant to accept the failure of the Oslo peace paradigm. This political myopia has meant the persistence of a framework that is increasingly divorced from the possibility of a just and sustainable peace. It is also acting as an ideological straitjacket by shutting out alternative interpretations. This special issue seeks a way out of this political and intellectual dead end. In pursuit of this, our various contributions undertake what we regard to be two key tasks: first, to critically analyse the perceptions underpinning the Oslo paradigm and the transformations instituted by its implementation; and second, to assess some alternative ways of understanding the situation rooted in new strategies of resistance that have emerged in the context of these transformations in the post-Oslo landscape.

[…]

Taken as a whole, the articles in this special issue aim to ignite conversations on the conflict that are not based within abstracted debates that centre upon the peace process itself—but that begin from within the realities and geographies of both the continually transforming land of Palestine-Israel and the voices, struggles, worldviews and imaginings of the future of the people who presently inhabit it. For it is by highlighting these transformations, and from within these points of beginning, that we believe more hopeful pathways for alternative ways forward can be collectively imagined, articulated, debated and built.