Roundtable: Backdrop & Reverberations of Soleimani’s Assassination (Part 1: Iran)

A grave prepared for Qasem Soleimani at Kerman Martyrs Cemetery. Image by Mohammad Ali Marizad via Wikimedia Commons. A grave prepared for Qasem Soleimani at Kerman Martyrs Cemetery. Image by Mohammad Ali Marizad via Wikimedia Commons.

Roundtable: Backdrop & Reverberations of Soleimani’s Assassination (Part 1: Iran)

By : Maryam Alemzadeh, Eric Lob, and Arshin Adib-Moghaddam

On 3 January 2020, the United States assassinated Major General Qasem Soleimani of Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Corps Guard (IRGC). The event was an escalation by the Trump Administration in what many critical analysts consider a decades-long war waged by the United States against the Islamic Republic of Iran. Soleimani himself joined the IRGC shortly after its establishment in the wake of the 1979 revolution. Since then, he has been involved in major battlefield engagements, including fighting in the Iraq-Iran War (1980–88), collaborating with the United States in the initial phase (2001–2002) of the US war in Afghanistan, and (at different times) directing Iranian support for allies in Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, and Yemen.

This is a two-part roundtable convened by Arash Davari, Naveed Mansoori, and Ziad Abu-Rish on the regional backdrop and (admittedly short-term) fallout from the US assassination of Soleimani. Part 1 features scholars of Iran reflecting on the place of Soleimani and the IRGC in the political and institutional dynamics of the Iranian state. They also address the reactions in Iran to the assassination and their intersection with various instances of popular mobilization, including the most recent one against the downing of Flight 752. Part 2 features scholars of regional states reflecting on the specific nature of Iranian policy and reaction to Soleimani’s assassination in those states.

1. Soleimani was a general in the Iranian Revolutionary Guards Corps. What role does the IRGC, the Quds Force in particular, play in the political, military, and economic structures of the Iranian state? How autonomous is the IRGC as an institution? Has its institutional history changed since 1979? If so, did 2003 mark a turning point? How might Soleimani's assassination materially change Iranian statecraft, foreign policy, and/or strategic decision-making?


Eric Lob: 
The Quds (Jerusalem) Force is the IRGC’s extraterritorial and clandestine unit that operates throughout the Middle East and beyond to extend the geopolitical influence of Iran and provide it with strategic depth and deterrence capabilities against regional and foreign adversaries, including the United States, Israel, Saudi Arabia, and other Arab Gulf or GCC countries. In the conflict zones of Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, Syria, and Yemen, the Quds Forces has created and supported Shi‘i militias that have become key players and power brokers in their respective states and societies. As part of the IRGC and Iranian military, the Quds Force plays a prominent role in the political and economic structures of the Iranian state. During the presidency of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (2005-2013), the IRGC gained unprecedented access to state institutions (the cabinet, bureaucracy, and parliament) and expanded and diversified its portfolio of corporate assets as the government pursued crony-capitalist privatization under Article 44 of the constitution.

In April 1979, the IRGC was established as a revolutionary organization and parallel institution to the conventional army while it was purged of real and suspected monarchists or royalists. The IRGC acted as a praetorian guard whose mission was to protect or defend the fledgling revolutionary state from internal and external enemies, including ethnic insurgents and Iraqi forces. During these counterinsurgency campaigns and the Iran-Iraq War, the IRGC became increasingly experienced, battle-hardened, professionalized, and institutionalized as an elite force and a government ministry. After the war, the IRGC ceased to exist as a ministry, lending it a level of organizational dynamism and flexibility that contrasted with other revolutionary organizations (e.g., Construction Jihad), which permanently languished in the bureaucracy with its rigid centralization and red tape. Within the Islamic Republic’s factionalized and bifurcated political system, the IRGC’s de-bureaucratization reduced the influence of the president over the organization and placed it firmly, if not exclusively, under the purview of the supreme leader. Nevertheless, the IRGC continued to receive an operating budget from the government with parliamentary approval while being privy to extra-budgetary funds from the supreme leader’s office and other non-elective institutions.  

The supreme leader comprises the commander-in-chief of the IRGC and the armed forces at large and is considered the ultimate decision-maker when it comes to Iran’s national security and foreign policy. That being said, this policy is deliberated over and formulated by a constellation of disparate institutions, including the Supreme Leader’s Office, Expediency Discernment Council, Supreme National Security Council, Ministry of Defense and Armed Forces Logistics, Ministry of Intelligence and National Security, and Ministry of Foreign Affairs. With the exception of the first two institutions (the members of which are appointed by the supreme leader), these institutions fall under the purview of the president, who appoints their heads and ministers with a parliamentary vote of confidence and after negotiations with the supreme leader and other officials. The generals and commanders of the IRGC and other branches of the military are appointed by the supreme leader and follow and execute his orders and directives with input from other clerical and civilian elites. These generals and commanders wield autonomy by weighing in on and influencing policy and carrying it out as they see fit in response to rapidly changing or fluid, geopolitical conditions and dynamics–a scenario that especially applied to Qasem Soleimani and the Quds Force.

Maryam Alemzadeh: As the epitome of a “revolutionary” organization, Iran’s Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps has enjoyed an exalted, and eventually untouchable, status within Iran’s political leadership for almost all of its forty-one-year history. The IRGC started not as a centrally organized military, but as clusters of dedicated volunteers ready to take direct action whenever their leaders, or in many cases, themselves, saw necessary. In the midst of civil conflicts and Iraq’s invasion of Iran, this characteristic was both reinforced within the IRGC and appreciated as authentically revolutionary in political circles. This initially exalted status of the IRGC was further consolidated as Banisadr, the IRGC’s strongest critic in the early phase of Iran’s war campaign, was removed from office. After the war, the Guards and Basijis were re-mobilized in the economic sphere. The IRGC intelligence and security branch, which had already grown in size and complexity during the war, expanded as well. The organization acquired the infrastructure to become increasingly independent, further its economic interests and exert influence on presidential politics.

The extraterritorial IRGC Quds Force, however, has been rather detached from this history and political dynamics within Iran. It was established in the late 1980s, around the time when the IRGC was on the verge of being “mercantilized.” An internationally shunned Islamic Republic sought to establish new coalitions, even if non-state entities were the only possible allies. It set up the Quds Force to serve these purposes. In its first large-scale mission, the Quds Force backed Bosnian Muslims in the Bosnian war of the early nineties.[1] These efforts failed when a peace treaty urged all foreign military personnel to leave the country. The US invasion of Afghanistan and then Iraq created a fertile ground for Iran’s Quds Force to reinforce and expand state-recognized Shi‘i militias outside of Iran and thus to influence regional politics in Iran’s interests.

Soleimani emerged at this point, as a trustworthy strategist and pragmatic commander who could secure Iran’s interest through a network of militias in the region. Under Soleimani, the Quds Force was considerably independent of Iran’s internal affairs. He was trusted to come up with strategies and implement them based on his direct relationships with other countries’ military and political leaders.  Under his successor, Brig. General Qa’ani, the Quds Force is likely to become more dependent on political decision-making within Iran (specifically to military advisors to the supreme leader and the Joint Chief of Staff), thereby entangling internal and foreign politics. On the other hand, in the absence of Soleimani, the Quds Force’s presence will become weaker in the region, which means that it will depend on state decision-makers even further to preserve its international position. As a result of this dependence, Quds Force affairs are more likely to influence and be influenced by internal politics. 

Eric Lob: The US invasion of Iraq in 2003 marked a seminal moment for Soleimani and the Quds Force. With the political and security vacuum caused by the US overthrow of Saddam Hussein and purging of the Baʿth Party through the policy of de-Baʿthification, the opportunity presented itself for Soleimani and the Quds Force to create, finance, arm, and train Shi‘i militias inside the country, as well as to groom and guide opposition politicians (who had been living in exile in Iran) from the Islamic Dawa Party and the Supreme Islamic Iraqi Council to assume key positions in successive governments. The goals of these activities were to: (1) Establish a congenial and tamer government in Baghdad sympathetic to Iranian interests with the specter of the Iran-Iraq War lurking in the background; (2) Render the situation in Iraq for US forces uncomfortable, if not intolerable, and prevent them from marching into Iran—which had been labeled part of the Axis of Evil by President George W. Bush in 2002; (3) Particularly after 2014, defeat ISIS in Iraq and neighboring Syria—a campaign that involved air support from the US military and tacit cooperation with it against a common enemy.

After Soleimani’s assassination, the Iranian government will sorely miss his strategic and tactical acumen, military and political leadership and experience, and long-standing relationships with politicians and militiamen in Iran, the Middle East, and beyond. On the one hand, the assassination will not cause Iranian national security and foreign policy or strategic decision-making to fundamentally change. Iran will likely continue to rely on asymmetric warfare through its arsenal of ballistic missiles, network of regional proxies and partners, and team of cyber hackers to inflict pain on the United States and its allies, compensate for their conventional superiority, and avoid a direct conventional conflict. On the other hand, the assassination will raise the urgency and accelerate the efforts of the Islamic Republic to expel an increasingly belligerent and unpredictable United States from Iraq and other surrounding countries in the region. This desired outcome constituted a chief policy objective of Soleimani as commander of the Quds Force and could potentially come to fruition with the Iraqi parliament and caretaker Prime Minister Adil Abdul-Mahdi passing a non-binding resolution to expel US forces from Iraq and by default Syria.

Arshin Adib-Mogaddam: I would describe the IRGC as a network of a particular form of militarized power, hierarchical sovereignty, and polymorphic ideological verticality. The first term speaks to its epistemological origin as a revolutionary-military institution immediately after the revolution of 1979. The institution has metamorphized into a “deep state” that operates, repeatedly, beyond the sovereignty of other institutions of the Iranian state and certainly the government. The hierarchical sovereignty of the IRGC speaks to its rootedness in the revolution, and in particular the Iran-Iraq war which baptized the organization in blood, and determined the world-view of the Soleimani generation. Its ideological verticality conceptualizes the form of power exercised, which is exactly vertical in the sense that the IRGC has transmuted into a politico-cultural institution with its own universities, media outlets, business enterprises etc., but continues to operate in a top-down fashion. 2003 marked a turning point in the sense that it galvanized all those three aspects of the IRGC giving impetus to its transnational effects. The three aspects did not so much galvanize the IRGC as a vehicle to “export the revolution” (sudur-e enghelab). Rather, they galvanized the organization’s military rationale, buttressing its role in Iranian society and beyond as a securitized and securitizing actor. 2003 made it almost impossible for the IRGC in general, and the Quds force in particular, to be “pacified.” The state embarked on the “culturalization” of the organization after the “reconstruction period” in the 1990s for precisely these purposes.

2. What can we learn from Soleimani’s biography about the relationship between Iran’s domestic and global politics? What are the continuities and discontinuities between his earlier activities in the Iran-Iraq war, his participation in the alliance between Iran and the United States in the war against the Taliban in Afghanistan, the role he played in facilitating IRI support for Bashar al-Asad in the Syrian civil war, and his efforts in the war against ISIS? How does Soleimani’s symbolic significance internationally align with his significance in Iran as a venerated war hero? How are domestic critics of Iran's regional role, often associated with Soleimani, interpreting this event?


Eric Lob: 
Soleimani rose to prominence as a young division commander during the Iran-Iraq War. During the conflict, he relied on irregular warfare and forged connections with leaders and officials of Iraqi Kurdistan and the Badr Brigade. Following the US invasion of Iraq in 2003, these contacts served Soleimani and the Quds Force well in helping Iran gain and expand influence inside the country, create and support Shi‘i militias under the umbrella of the Popular Mobilization Forces, wage attacks against American forces, and launch an offensive against ISIS. Soleimani was a pragmatist in the sense that he cooperated with the United States when doing so advanced Iran’s strategic objectives and national interests. In the wake of September 11, Soleimani helped US forces overthrow the Taliban and weaken al-Qa‘ida by offering logistical support and leveraging his contacts with the Northern Alliance and other Afghan militias. Beginning in 2014, US-Iranian interests again aligned in the fight against ISIS in Iraq and Syria. Soleimani was instrumental to this campaign by providing ground forces in the form of IRGC-Quds Force units and Iranian-backed Shi‘i militias from Afghanistan, Iraq, Lebanon, and Syria.

At the same time, other activities undertaken by Suleiman directly conflicted with the interests of the United States and its allies. After 2003, he financed, armed, and trained Iraqi Shi‘i militias, and supplied them with roadside bombs and other hardware to inflict American casualties in Iraq and prevent US forces from marching on Tehran. Soleimani continued and increased support to Lebanese Hizballah, which the Quds Force had helped create in the early-to-mid 1980s before he became its commander in 1998. During the Syrian civil war, Soleimani was instrumental in propping up the Assad regime and seizing territory from rebels and extremists by organizing and deploying IRGC-Quds Force advisers and operatives, and Shi‘i militias from Afghanistan, Iraq, and Lebanon under the umbrella of the National Defense Forces–not to mention convincing Russia to intervene militarily in 2015. The Iranian intervention involved elevated expenditures of blood and treasure, exacerbated sectarian tensions inside and outside of Syria, and created controversy in Iran. Nonetheless, Iran’s leadership considered the conflict an existential one to save its only dependable ally in the Arab world and maintain supply lines to Hizballah in Lebanon.

Arshin Adib-Moghaddam: Soleimani was the nodal point of a very particular historical constellation that delivered his aura and “charisma.” In many ways, his role was manufactured. The Iranian state actively created the metaphysical aura surrounding him, as a Trojan Horse for its strategic preferences in the region—preferences primarily geared to preventing a “Saddam Hussein effect,” i.e., rolling back against movements and leaders that would be a threat to Iran’s borders. Soleimani was made into someone that his predecessor will never be: The charismatic figurehead of Iranian efforts to reshape Syria and Iraq in accordance with Iranian transnational interests. The fact that General Soleimani had a distinguished career during the Iran-Iraq war, which included a role in the liberation of Khorramshahr, an event which is celebrated in Iran as a national symbol of “resistance” to Saddam Hussein to this day, lent itself to passing him the mantle of a “just” warrior. The mantle chimes with Iranian psycho-nationalism and its propensity to dramatize the roles of Rostam and Hussein and to reengineer contemporary, eponymous heroes of this eternal Persian battle for metaphysical justness. Once one steps out of this grandiose narrative, Soleimani could be viewed as an imperial mastermind for Iranian dominance, of course. This has been the dilemma of the aggressive push into the Arab state system that has delivered a radically altered geopolitical landscape. From the perspective of the Iranian state, however, General Soleimani functioned brilliantly, even with his death alongside Commander al-Muhandis, which has galvanized the Iranian-Iraqi dialectic along the “resistance axis” even further.

Maryam Alemzadeh: Although “exporting the revolution” has been a persistent theme in the IRGC’s official propaganda, Soleimani’s Quds Force should not be seen as an extension of the IRGC of the Iran-Iraq War. The thought of pursuing extra-territorial activities has existed since the early days of the IRGC’s establishment. A number of activists involved in the formation of the IRGC had been involved in guerrilla organizations such as the Palestine Liberation Organization and the Lebanese Amal Movement in the months leading up to the revolution. They envisioned an extra-territorial branch for the IRGC to continue liberating oppressed Muslims in neighboring countries—i.e., to “export the Islamic revolution.” The Liberation Movements Unit was soon introduced as a branch of the IRGC to realize this goal. This branch and its radical ideology were quite similar to the IRGC of early war years—passionate about the cause of the “Islamic Revolution” and ready to take extreme measures to realize it. However, the Liberation Movements Office did not last long. The majority of militiamen and politicians, including Ayatollah Khomeini himself, were inclined to focus on internal affairs, unless external activities proved to be of pressing geopolitical significance. Political conflicts and the eventual shunning and elimination of Liberation Movements leaders, including Ayatollah Montazeri and his relatives, happened partly as a result of such inconsistencies. 

As opposed to the Liberation Movement Unit’s idealistic agenda, the Quds Force and the extra-territorial activities that took place before its introduction followed a more pragmatic, realpolitik approach to Iran’s regional presence.  The formation of Hizballah in the early 1980s to counter Israel’s influence in Southern Lebanon (which happened shortly after the Liberation Movements Office was dismantled) is one such move. The shifting grounds that the United States created in Afghanistan and Iraq after the September 11 attacks and, a decade later, the Syrian civil war created a chance for Iran to expand its influence in the Middle East. The pragmatism of Soleimani and the Quds Force becomes apparent here. In this time period, alliances were not formed on ideological grounds, but on practical ones. The Quds Force cooperated with the United States and its allies against the Taliban in the early 2000s and against ISIS in 2014-15; they reinforced Shi’a militias in Iraq against the US alliance before and after the war with ISIS; and they fought against US-backed forces in Syria to keep Bashar al-Asad, Iran’s longstanding ally, in power.

This is why Soleimani’s persona had greater significance in the Quds Force than in the Iran-Iraq War. Like every other prominent IRGC commander, he started his career with no military experience and training. He learned warfare by doing it. This met the requirements of a straightforward infantry war conducted mostly on home turf. In the Quds Force, however, he tackled tasks that were much more sophisticated technically and required coordinating multiple, semi-independent militias as well as various state actors. In this sense, his time as an extraterritorial agent cannot be seen as a continuation of the Iran-Iraq war experience; just as Iran’s rational goal-orientation on international grounds is not a continuation of domestic ideologized governance.

Eric Lob: The Trump administration attempted to justify the assassination of Soleimani by labeling him a terrorist and claim legality on the grounds that the IRGC had been designated a terrorist organization in 2017—even if the attack never received Congressional approval and violated Iraqi sovereignty. Apart from being a senior government and military official, Soleimani was considered a war hero in Iran with popularity or approval ratings hovering between sixty and eighty percent in domestic and international polls. One reason for his venerated status was that he was perceived as a defender or protector of Iranian interests in the region, including containing the threat of ISIS. Another was that the Quds Force operated outside of Iran and, consequently, did not repress its activists, protestors, and other citizens, unlike other branches of the IRGC. Nevertheless, given that the Iranian authorities responded in an unusually heavy-handed manner by killing hundreds and arresting countless more during the mass protests in late 2019, some citizens refuse to differentiate between the Quds Force and the rest of the IRGC, with the wounds and memories of repression still fresh and seared into the mind. Some Iranians recall that Soleimani had signed a letter with other IRGC officers threatening to crush the 1999 student protests and orchestrate a military coup against President Mohammad Khatami if he failed to take action.  

Some Iranians have criticized the Iranian government and military for funding and supporting Shi‘i militias in the region and the Assad regime in Syria at the expense of domestic development and prosperity. However, such criticism has been drowned out in an increasingly securitized, geopolitical climate. Between 2017 and 2019, the Trump administration issued the travel ban against Iranians, designated the IRGC a terrorist organization, withdrew from the JCPOA or nuclear deal, and re-imposed and intensified economic sanctions against Iran as part of a campaign of “maximum pressure.” These measures were followed by escalating military tensions between the United States and Iran, culminating with Soleiman’s assassination. During this period, Iran experienced two waves of widespread demonstrations, which were met with heavy repression, and two ISIS-claimed terrorist attacks against the Iranian Parliament and Khomeini’s mausoleum in Tehran and a military parade in Ahvaz. As the Iranian government confronts rising external and internal pressures and threats, critics of Iranian foreign policy risk being stigmatized and repressed as traitors or enemies of the state.

3. What does rallying around the flag—or a national hero—tangibly mean for domestic affairs in Iran? For instance, do you see parallels between our current moment and the outset of the Iran-Iraq War, the last instance of full-scale war in Iran? Or has Iran’s domestic sphere fundamentally changed in the past forty years?

Maryam Alemzadeh: In the early rounds of mobilization for the Iran-Iraq War, revolutionary-ideological motivations and nationalistic drives had successfully converged. This convergence was not surprising, as post-revolutionary states have been historically successful in mobilizing citizens for war campaigns. With the end of the war in 1988, the tide of revolutionary fervor had already subsided and a consumerist and implicitly secular economy and culture was introduced into infrastructures. In the decades after the war, IRGC leaders recognized the need to shift from a strictly religious-revolutionary discourse to a nationalist one. A successful venue for this campaign arose with the Quds Force’s participation in the war against ISIS in Iraq and Syria from 2014 onward, and Soleimani was illustrated as the national hero that was revered even by those not loyal to the government’s political Shi’ism. 

But it was not simply the IRGC’s general discursive turn and the threat of ISIS that elevated Soleimani’s status to a widely respected figure. To this favorable context, we should add Soleimani’s specific positioning within the IRGC and the Islamic Republic, and the professionalism that his performance implicated. Soleimani’s dedication to Ayatollah Khamene’i and the Islamic Republic’s ideology was clearly stated. In this, he resembled every other IRGC commander that the disgruntled public has known and distanced itself from, over the years. However, he was not a figure to appear in the media frequently to emphasize this dedication. Whether intentionally or not, he appeared detached from the IRGC and the Islamic Republic’s omnipresent propaganda. Simultaneously, and heightened by his international reputation, he was perceived as a skillful and effective military commander—a characteristic which the critics of the IRGC do not generously attribute to just any guard.

With this in mind, it becomes clear that rallying around Soleimani’s figure does not necessarily signal a spike in the regime’s legitimacy. Citizens who were ideologically distanced from the Islamic Republic’s core might have been attracted to the figure of Soleimani exactly because they assessed him to stand in contrast to the average state- or military man: efficient and professional (not just loyal), and detached from the IRGC’s perceived empire of propaganda and corruption. The sharp turn of protestors against Soleimani, this time as a figure endorsed by the state, attests to this observation. 

Eric Lob: It may be tempting to draw parallels between the current crisis and the outset of the Iran-Iraq War. However, the high costs of that war, which many Iranians lived through and from which they still suffer, have made them reticent to engage in another conflict, particularly against a conventionally superior adversary like the United States. Soleimani was a venerated figure, as attested to by the ubiquitous displays of public outcry and support during his funeral. By assassinating him and threatening to attack Iran’s cultural sites, the United States committed a strategic blunder by increasing Iranian nationalism and unifying Iranian elites and citizens only weeks after the Islamic Republic faced mass demonstrations at home and in other parts of the Shi‘i world, including Iraq and Lebanon. Yet, the fundamental changes that have occurred in the domestic sphere during the past forty years will likely erode this solidarity. During this period, elite factionalism has steadily intensified and will probably continue to do so ahead of the upcoming parliamentary election on 21 February 2020—even if the hardliners ostensibly possess a discernable advantage thanks to US escalation. This factionalism has permeated and polarized society with some citizens ardently supporting the state and others openly defying it during the protests of 1999, 2009, 2017, and 2019—not to mention more latent episodes and forms of resistance that occurred before and between those years.

Arshin Adib-Mogaddam: At this historical juncture rallying around the flag means that Iran is creating heroes born in war, rather than peace. Connecting to my answer to question one, this has securitizing, rather than liberalizing effects on Iranian domestic politics and foreign affairs. Soleimani was a soldier, after all, and his role was defined by the traumas and terrors of the battlefield, which he and his generation absorbed during the devastating Iran-Iraq War and thereafter. Having said that, these institutions of Iran’s contemporary political culture are continuously challenged by what I have called a pluralistic momentum, a bottom-up process from Iranian civil society acting upon the state which has repeatedly extracted concessions in favor of Iranian civil rights—less so through repeated spasms of violence in this state-society dialectic (which have not had a “democratic” dividend) but through techniques of everyday resistance to some of the confines held up by the state. It is this pluralistic momentum that has continuously differentiated Iranian institutions, to the degree that they have ceased to function in a one-dimensional mode. Even the IRGC has to engage in perception management and public relations, despite of their near-monopoly over the instruments of violence. That near monopoly can easily subdue with impunity whenever the state feels cornered, which particularly happens when the international context is deemed to be threatening to the sovereignty of the Iranian state. In these junctures, the “deep state” lashes out. But it is always also careful to embed such spasms of violence in a “justified” narrative. This speaks to a notion of public accountability, however confined, that the original IRGC did not have. Hence the cultural apparatus and media conglomerates tied into its organisational structure today.

4. How have different institutional and non-state actors in the Islamic Republic responded to past violations of Iranian state sovereignty and/or assassinations of leaders? What have been the immediate responses to Soleimani's assassination in Iran? Are there salient discrepancies across familiar factional lines (e.g., reformists and principalists) and/or unexpected cleavages within Iranian society? Or is there an unambiguously unified front?

Arshin Adib-Moghaddam: Ironically, the differences between reformists and principlists in Iran are rooted exactly at the rhizome of the sovereignty of the Iranian state. Here, their opposing versions coalesce, whenever necessary, to rescue their common project of defending the Islamic Republic as a competing locus for a better future for Iranians. In other words: The reformists have an objectively different idea of sovereign rule in Iran, geared to notions of civil rights, democracy etc, whereas the principalists essentially hold on to a “deified” sovereignty, next to the popular one. However, despite these opposing views, the interests of both factions meet where most of their quarrels end: At the juncture of Iran’s interests, in particular the survival of the state, its legitimacy and the main tenets of the country’s strategic preferences abroad.

Eric Lob: Given the importance of Soleimani as a national figure and the dangerous precedent that the assassination sets in terms of conducting drone strikes against senior government and military officials, the incident may have momentarily unified Iranian elites across the political spectrum, along with segments of the population. Nonetheless, as indicated earlier and depending on what happens next between Iran and the United States, elite factionalism will likely continue and further intensify ahead of the upcoming parliamentary election on 21 February 2020. At the societal level, outraged and emboldened activists and citizens could mobilize again against the state in response to its heavy-handed response to protests in late 2019 and its economic mismanagement and austerity measures (among a host of other grievances) in the face of increased US sanctions. Less visible to the Iranian and international media and public were disaffected Iranians who refused to watch or partake in Soleimani’s funeral processions and mourning ceremonies. As previously mentioned, some Iranians associate the Quds Force with other branches of the IRGC that have repressed activists and citizens. These Iranians remember the letter that Soleimani signed urging Khatami to quell the 1999 student demonstrations. These Iranians also perceive the activities of Soleimani and the Quds Force as a liability to Iran’s international image and domestic development, not to mention regional and global stability.               

5. How might we assess the relationship between the uprisings last month and the ostensible “rally around the flag” effect at play in Suleimani’s mourning ceremonies? Is this a momentas was proposed in a recent article in the New York Timeswhen the disunity of the uprisings has turned into national unity? Likewise, provided that there are mourning ceremonies in Iran and Iraq, has the United States created conditions for solidarity? Is that solidarity likely to be expressed in interstate relations between Iran and Iraq? 


Arshin Adib-Moghaddam: 
Undoubtedly, the fissures in Iran’s polity will remain. But the Soleimani effect was very valuable analytically as it clearly demonstrated the deep resonance that the metaphorical power of the Iranian state continues to radiate. The millions mourning his death are exactly the constituencies that are embedded in all strata of Iranian society. Does anyone really think that the death of any of the Shah’s generals would have brought similar numbers to the streets in the 1970s? This very simple thought-exercise explains why there was a revolution in 1979, and why there has not been one since, despite the immense pressures to that end from the outside.

Eric Lob: As alluded to earlier, Soleimani’s assassination may unify and distract some Iranians in the short term, but will not necessarily mend the social fabric during the aftermath of the popular uprisings and state repression in late 2019 nor will it address or remedy their root causes. It would be a mistake to assume that Iranians rallying around the flag during a moment of national emergency and crisis in the face of escalation by the United States would cause the grievances of activists and citizens to dissipate, especially after hundreds were killed and countless more arrested during and after the Aban protests. So long as these wounds continue to fester without meaningful reform, and economic hardship endures as a consequence of US sanctions and Iranian mismanagement and corruption, it is difficult to rule out another wave of popular uprisings, which have been occurring with increasing frequency and intensity. Only one week after Soleimani’s assassination, protests have erupted in Tehran and other cities in response to the government’s failed attempt to cover up its unintentional downing of a Ukrainian passenger jet that killed 176 people, many of who were Iranians. As in the past and while making conciliatory statements and gestures, officials have not responded to these protests with resignations, reforms or other tangible actions, but with riot police, tear gas, live ammunition, and other repressive measures.

Outside of Iran and around the region, Shi‘i politicians, militiamen, and citizens mourned and condemned Soleimani’s assassination. The US drone strike not only killed Soleimani, but also Abu Mahdi al-Muhandis and other senior commanders and officials of the Iranian-sponsored, Shi‘i paramilitary group, Kataʾib Hizballah, which is part of the Popular Mobilization Forces and vowed revenge. Tehran called for Kataʾib Hizballah and other militias in Iraq and elsewhere to exhibit restraint in order to avoid a direct confrontation with the United States. While funded and supported by Iran, these proxies and partners do not necessarily march to its orders. These groups could attack the United States if they deem that doing so is their prerogative and in their interests. Another factor that could disrupt or impede transnational solidarity between Iran and Iraq is the issue of Iraqi and Arab nationalism and sovereignty despite the religious affinity that exists between Iraqi and Iranian Shi‘a. As demonstrated during the widespread protests in Iraq that began last October, some Iraqi Shi‘a oppose Iran for meddling in Iraqi politics, corrupting the system, and violently suppressing the protests–in which Soleimani allegedly played a key role. Given that Suleimani’s assassination violated the sovereignty of Iraq and made it a battleground for intensified conflict between the United States and Iran, the Iraqi parliament passed a non-binding resolution to expel all foreign forces or those of both countries. In the end, Iraq’s national identity and sovereignty will continue to rival, if not supersede, its political loyalties and religious ties to Iran.

Arshin Adib-Moghaddam: One of the reasons why modern forms of psycho-nationalism have tried to think Iraq and Iran apart—Ba’thism in Iraq and Pahlavism in Iran—is exactly because the historical narratives are so conjoined. Ctesiphon is the ancient equivalent of Najaf for this common historical plane. In many ways, Iraq is to Iran, what Switzerland is to Germany. There are immensely rich transnational territories to traverse that go beyond sectarian clichés. Undoubtedly, regional peace in West Asia can only be achieved once such post-national embeddedness is diagnosed and then furthered. The Westphalian nation-state after all has done more harm than good, as it is premised on a particularly divisive form of psycho-national difference. In this sense, thinking beyond borders can only be a good thing.

6. If Soleimani’s death was, in fact, a moment of unity and transnational solidarity, how have the downing of the passenger flight and ensuing protests (if at all) changed those sentiments? That is, how would you explain the appearance of these various crowds (Aban, Soleimani funeral, Amir Kabir University) in such short proximity?


Eric Lob: 
Although the unintentional downing of the Ukranian passenger jet triggered the current protests at Amir Kabir University and elsewhere in Tehran and Iran, they can be viewed as an extension of those that occurred in Aban 1398/November 2019, if not before. With hundreds killed and countless more arrested by security forces, the wounds from those protests have not healed nor have their grievances related to authoritarian politics, economic mismanagement/corruption, and social restrictions been addressed. The Soleimani funeral may have provided the Iranian government with a brief respite from popular protests. However, only one week later, government and military officials have found themselves in the same predicament, if not worse, due to their lack of competence, transparency, and accountability during the incident and investigation involving the downed airliner–deficiencies that Iranians perceive as being symptomatic of the wider political establishment and system. As in the past, these officials have responded to the latest protests with riot police, tear gas, live ammunition, and other repressive measures that will likely further enrage and embolden the protesters and public. While offering their condolences, senior officials have refrained from taking the type of tangible actions–including dismissals, resignations, and reform–that many Iranians expect–an outcome that risks further inflaming tensions between these officials and the protestors. Though exacerbated externally by the Trump administration’s maximum pressure campaign, the Iranian government’s legitimacy crisis is the byproduct of its unwillingness to institute meaningful and substantive reform during the past forty years, as evidenced by the protestors calling for the supreme leader’s resignation and refusing to desecrate the American and Israeli flags.

Maryam Alemzadeh: For the reasons discussed above, it was not surprising that Soleimani’s assassination claimed a prime spot in many Iranian minds, replacing the violent repression of the Aban protests. In addition to Soleimani’s cross-sectional appeal among people, the fact that the killing was read as an act of war helped mobilize more citizens—at least to attend Soleimani’s funerals, if not to enlist for an actual war. When the IRGC anti-air missiles shot down a passenger plane by a disastrous mistake, everything that Soleimani’s persona had pushed to the margins came to the center of attention again. The mistake was immediately connected to the many mistakes that the IRGC’s learning-by-doing had caused during the Iran-Iraq War, including the shooting down of Iranian Army jets; it was traced to a decades-long preference for loyalty over skill.

Soleimani, although revered by non-loyal citizens because of his being detached from such flaws, was now seen as a figure heavily endorsed by the state. The state propaganda apparatus has been seizing every opportunity to benefit from Soleimani’s killing—to further demonize the United States, to repress internal dissent, and to claim all Soleimani’s mourners as its loyal subjects. Even if the plane crash had not outraged the public so shortly after the killing, the state’s move in owning Soleimani would have probably backfired eventually. For the ideologically loyal, the event and its state endorsement prompted a renewal of their allegiance. For others who respected Soleimani, however, it robbed them of the rationale for respecting him in the first place.

Arshin Adib-Moghaddam: In the absence of a structured form of agonistic politics that can reveal itself within institutions of the state, political expression in favor of fundamental changes to the very sovereignty and legitimacy of the state are pushed onto the "streets," which are less governable. This is a form of "street politics" that has been unfolding itself in Iran for decades now. It is a part of the bottom up process that I mentioned, which will continue until state institutions manage to absorb and diffuse this pluralistic momentum in a grand spectacle of democratization. Until then, it will continue to manifest itself, even in an anarchic, unstructured form, that does not yield to the mold of "reformism." Of course, it is in this de-institutionalized locus where violent protests can be fostered, exactly because of the political "loneliness" of this space, one that is devoid of leadership and headquarters. The Soleimani effect is comparable, but in the reverse direction. It molds a wider constituency that is distinctly transnational (in the way the former movement is not) into several commonalities: Resistance against the United States, Israel, support of Palestine, etc. It is a form of post-national politics that benefits the political status quo in Iran, and is thus functional to the legitimacy and sovereignty of the state in the way that the Amir Kabir University example, obviously is not.

[Click here to read Part 2 of this roundtable, featuring scholars of Iraq, Yemen, and Syria reflecting on Iranian policy in these countries and the fallout from Soleimani's assisination.]

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[1] Establishing the Lebanese Hizballah was arguably the first IRGC-led extraterritorial project, but it was implemented before the Quds Force existed.

 

Theorizing the Arabian Peninsula Roundtable: Perspectives from the Margins of Arabia

[This is one of seven contributions in Jadaliyya`s electronic roundtable on the symbolic and material practices of knowledge production on the Arabian Peninsula. Moderated by Rosie Bsheer and John Warner, it features Toby Jones, Madawi Al-Rasheed, Adam Hanieh, Neha Vora, Nathalie Peutz, John Willis, and Ahmed Kanna.]

(1) Historically, what have the dominant analytical approaches to the study of the Arabian Peninsula been? How have the difficulties of carrying out research in the Arabian Peninsula shaped the ways in which knowledge is produced for the particular country/ies in which you have worked, and in the field more generally?

When I first began studying Arabic and, subsequently, formulating a research project in Yemen in the early 2000s, I did not consider myself to be working in or on the "Arabian Peninsula," as such. Rather, what drew me to Yemen was its historical, geographical, and cultural distinctiveness, which remains even now quite remarkable, but which nevertheless often obscures the relations, connections, and shared histories and presents that do exist within the region and beyond. This oversight is born perhaps out of what Sheila Carapico identified nearly ten years ago as a pernicious "dualism" that shaped not only American research agendas, but also the stereotypical conceptions, popular and academic, of "the Gulf" (rather than the peninsula as a whole): "Yemen is kaleidoscopic; the Gulf is monochrome…The Gulf is good for business; Yemen is good for ethnography" (Carapico 2004).

This same oversight—what Adam Hanieh in his response discusses as a "methodological nationalism"—is also born out of what we may call a secondary Orientalism: a way of "knowing" that considers the majority of the Arabian Peninsula without "culture" and without "history" in comparison to the Arab states of North Africa and the Eastern Mediterranean. This fallacy has been exacerbated, of course, by the relative difficulty for short-term visitors and new scholars of actually engaging on a deeper level with the citizenry in countries like the United Arab Emirates, where it may be easier to befriend migrants from Egypt or Sri Lanka than its small minority of "nationals." As a result, although there have been notable exceptions—including recent scholarship on the political economy, political ecology, and youth and urban cultures in Saudi Arabia, in addition to an older, rich tradition of studies on kinship and its Bedouin—anthropological scholarship on Gulf-state citizens has seemed relatively flat in comparison to the "thicker" ethnographies of migrant populations in "the Gulf" and of "tribal" communities in Yemen. In both cases, these research foci emerge from the historically dominant approaches to these "two" areas: oil and security in the Gulf (and its resulting dependence on cheap, imported labor) and state-tribe relations in Yemen (and related studies on tribalism, sociality and gender). Nevertheless, they are also being productively complicated by theoretically informed analyses of space, political subjectivities, and belonging. A similar and amplified turn to non-labor migrant populations in the Gulf (as in the work of Mandana Limbert in Oman) and non-tribal populations in Yemen (such as Marina de Regt’s work on Ethiopian domestic workers or Susanne Dahlgren on the public sphere in Aden) remains welcome.

As for the difficulties in carrying out, rather than framing, research in the Arabian Peninsula, the challenges of conducting research in Yemen may be somewhat distinct. Adam Hanieh, Ahmed Kanna, Madawi Al-Rasheed and Neha Vora have touched on the lack of (Western) research institutes and networks in the Gulf, the dearth of statistical data, and the difficulty of gaining unmediated access. In Yemen, a robust network of foreign research institutes work in tandem with several Yemeni research and studies centers to house and fund scholars and to facilitate their research there. These include the American Institute for Yemeni Studies (AIYS), the French Center in Sana’a for Archaeology and Social Sciences (CEFAS), and the German Archaeological Institute (DAI). In the early 2000s, when I lived in Sanaa, these centers supported a vibrant research community of both foreign and Yemeni scholars who frequented their libraries and attended their talks. The deteriorating security situation in Yemen and the subsequent evaporation of US funding for in-country research has had an unfortunate impact on these centers, which, during my visits in recent years, have appeared particularly vacant. Still, even with this institutional support, it could be challenging to be an anthropologist in Yemen. For one, as Ahmed Kanna notes, anthropology is one of the less known and less understood of the social science disciplines. And when my Yemeni acquaintances did have an understanding of anthropology, they were also well aware and suspicious of its colonial and imperial legacy. This was made clear to me when a professor of anthropology at Sanaa University asked me in March 2003 in front of his class of students why the United States had not sent one hundred anthropologists to Iraq, instead of bombing it. Suspicion toward the discipline and a more general suspicion of foreign researchers as spies was not new. One only needs to read Steve Caton’s remarkable account of his arrest and imprisonment in 1980 to see what an effect such suspicions have had on the kind of knowledge that is produced. Indeed, in reflecting on his own encounter with the National Security in Raydah, Paul Dresch notes that it is often the most mundane of facts that are the most heavily guarded.

This was certainly true of my own experience of fieldwork in Socotra. Whereas I was made privy to various conspiracy theories, extra-marital affairs, secret religious conversions, etc.—all things I hesitated to take note of, much less write about—it was nearly impossible for me to ask my hosts quite straightforward questions about their genealogies, tribal structures, and political past. Of course, I was conducting research at a time when US presence in Iraq as well as in Yemen was acutely palpable. Moreover, it made little sense to my Socotran friends that a US student would receive funding to hang out in Socotra or anywhere else if she did not have significant ties to the political powers that be. As a result, I turned to and became more interested in Socotri poetry where people’s opinions, struggles, and contestations were more forcefully voiced. In so doing, I thus followed, or rather stumbled, in the footsteps of a group of scholars who work on poetry in Yemen, including Steve Caton, Flagg Miller, Lucine Taminian and Samuel Liebhaber, but without their expertise! Fortunately, such suspicions do ease over time. Although it has become even more difficult in the past five years for anthropologists to conduct fieldwork in Yemen, now that I live in Abu Dhabi where I am easily accessible by telephone and where my current position is more comprehensible to my Socotran interlocutors, Socotrans are more comfortable reaching out to me, calling upon me for help, and working with me. I know that if I were to have the chance to return again for a lengthy period of time, fieldwork—in terms of the questions I could ask and the answers I would receive—would be very different this time.

(2) What are some of the new and innovative ways of thinking and theorizing the Arabian Peninsula and how has your work drawn on these approaches? How do these new theoretical interventions address elisions or tensions within more traditional approaches?

In my view, one of the most useful attempts to reframe and theorize the Arabian Peninsula occurred with the 2004 publication of Counter-Narratives: History, Contemporary Society, and Politics in Saudi Arabia and Yemen (edited by Madawi al-Rasheed and Robert Vitalis). It is here that Sheila Carapico issued her "Arabia Incognita: An Invitation to Arabian Peninsula Studies" cited above. Carapico’s is a research agenda that would bridge the conventional divide between Yemeni and Gulf Studies to focus on the interconnections between the inhabitants and nations of the peninsula as a whole. Whether in direct response to Carapico’s invitation or in reaction to the region’s most recent and emblematic transnational phenomena, such as the global “war on terror,” the emergence of al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula, and the spread of the Arab uprisings, several scholars and even academic journals have now taken up this call. For example, in the past two years we have seen the 2011 launch of the Journal of Arabian Studies: Arabia, the Gulf, and the Red Sea followed by, in 2013, the conversion and expansion of the journal Chroniques yéménites into Arabian Humanities: International Journal of Archaeology and Social Sciences in the Arabian Peninsula, both focused on the Arabian Peninsula en bloc and from antiquity to present.

What is needed when it comes to theorizing the Arabian Peninsula, however, is not just an expansion of scope—a sort of micro "area studies"—but also scholarship that explicitly draws on and forwards this transnational and interdisciplinary peninsular perspective. This approach breaks with the traditional dualism described above in its recognition that one cannot adequately study migration, religious reformism, sectarian identities, state and popular (or cultural) sovereignty, youth cultures, urbanism, natural resource exploitation and conservation, gender transformations, heritage production, or class, etc., within one nation without at least recognizing the influences and entanglements of these phenomena throughout the peninsula and across its surrounding waters. New scholarship that exemplifies this approach includes, of course, Engseng Ho’s work on Hadhrami migration; Adam Hanieh’s work on transregional (Khaleeji) capital and class formation; Laurent Bonnefoy’s work on Salafism in Yemen (and yet highly contingent upon grassroots flows to and from Saudi Arabia); Steve Caton’s emerging research on water scarcity in Yemen, Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates; and Andrew Gardner’s comparative studies of the kafala system in Bahrain and Qatar, among others.

Even in a relatively "remote" and off-shore location such as Socotra, this "peninsular" perspective is imperative to an understanding of the "local" and of how Socotra has been produced recently as a World Heritage Site and a "natural" biodiverse research laboratory. Yet, in the early stages of my research on the development, conservation, and heritagization of Yemen’s Soqotra Archipelago, and perhaps due to the pervasiveness of the distinctions drawn between Yemen and the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) states, I was surprised by the degree to which my Socotran friends and neighbors were oriented not toward Sanaa or Aden, but rather toward Salalah, Ras al-Khaimah, Ajman, Sharjah, Bani Yas, and Jeddah. It was the cities and representations of "the Gulf" and Saudi Arabia—not mainland Yemen—which captured their imaginations and fueled their aspirations. Indeed, I soon learned that I could not examine heritage production in Socotra—conventionally understood to be a "national" project—without first examining heritage projects and discourses in Abu Dhabi and Dubai. For example, the annual Festival of the Socotran Poet which, as I wrote about in MERIP last May, was transformed in 2012 into a platform for public debate on the viability of Socotra’s cultural and political sovereignty, was originally modeled after the United Arab Emirates’ reality television show, The Million’s Poet, created by the Abu Dhabi Authority for Culture and Heritage (now the Abu Dhabi Tourism and Culture Authority) to promote and safeguard national Emirati culture. This small example demonstrates to me the importance of seeing and understanding the peninsula holistically instead of continuing to bifurcate it into Yemen and the rest.

This is not to say, however, that the space and study of the Arabian Peninsula is any more "natural" than are the constructed borders of its nation-states. I agree with Toby Jones and John Willis’ deep reservations about area studies and about the "Arabian Peninsula" as yet another imperially produced category. As well as they state it here, these reservations are, of course, not new. And yet, as all of the contributors to this roundtable point out or imply, the Arabian Peninsula and the Gulf—Yemen, too (hence Lisa Wedeen’s book title, Peripheral Visions)—have long been treated as peripheral, geographically and conceptually, to the Middle East and to Middle East studies. One only needs to look through the bibliography of Lara Deeb and Jessica Winegar’s excellent review article, "Anthropologies of Arab-Majority Societies," to note that ethnographies and anthropological articles situated in Egypt or in Palestine far outnumber the recent scholarship produced on all of the Arabian Peninsula states combined. There is thus obviously no a priori reason to theorize the "Arabian Peninsula"—but we may still learn a lot in doing so.

Here, at New York University in Abu Dhabi (NYUAD), Pascal Ménoret, Justin Stearns, and I were hired into a nascent program named "Arab Crossroads Studies." During our first year teaching at NYUAD, we spent many hours debating both the merits and productivity of the name and the rationale for turning this then-concentration into a full-fledged undergraduate major. The legacy of US area studies’ Cold War roots was something we took seriously. What does "Arab Crossroads" even mean? And was it productive or just as flawed to move from a geographic focus, that is, Middle East studies, to a linguistic, cultural, and ethnic one: the Arab world? Even as these are questions we continue to ask, the renaming and reframing does something. If nothing else, it reminds me as a scholar and a teacher to focus more explicitly on the historical, political, economic, and social connections between the "Arab world" and its immediate surroundings (Africa, South Asia, the Indian Ocean region, and Europe) as well as on the human, material, and conceptual "crossroads" within "it." In doing so, it draws our attention away from place and toward movement across space and within various spaces.

In treating the Arabian Peninsula as a "center" rather than a periphery, we are forced to widen our geographical focus and broaden our conceptual one. That is, we cannot design classes or research projects as if the "Arab world" or the "Middle East" begins in Morocco and ends in Muscat. Nor can we ignore the capital and labor flows that link South Asia to the Arabian Peninsula to the Levant (and also to the United States). Finally, as Tom Looser has convincingly argued, it is with the export of Western universities and branch campuses to the Gulf and East Asia, for example, that area studies gains new salience. With the fashionable emphasis today on all things "global," a critical area studies approach can ground and situate an otherwise imperialist (and predominantly Western) sense of "global" knowledge and "cosmopolitan" belonging. Through the newly established "Arab Crossroads Studies" major at NYUAD, we seek to emphasize to our "global" students that their being here, in Abu Dhabi—in the Arabian Peninsula—does matter and that Abu Dhabi is not merely the "global" city it aspires to be, but that it, too, has been historically and politically produced. Included, however, among the required courses for all undergraduate majors is a "Problems and Methods in Arab Crossroads Studies" course: a course that examines area, area studies, and areas like the "Arabian Peninsula" critically, while asking what new theoretical interventions such a focus may uncover. We welcome further discussion on this!

(3) "Sectarianism" seems to have reemerged in popular and academic work on the Arabian Peninsula as both the label for and analytic of a socio-political phenomenon. What is the utility of both past and more recent formulations of "sectarianism" as an analytical tool for the study of the Arabian Peninsula? What challenges or problems have these formulations created?

This is an important question.  As I have not worked on sectarianism directly, however, I will defer here to the other roundtable participants.

(4) What is the relationship between local scholarship produced in the Arabian Peninsula and the work done by academics in the United States, Western Europe, Russia, etc.? What kind of attention has been given to local and regional knowledge production, if any?

I think it fair to say that the relationship between local scholarship produced in the Arabian Peninsula and the work done by academics from the outside is growing stronger, while still remaining contingent upon or even hampered by the hegemonic status of English as the scholarly lingua franca. We see this even in the shift from French- and German-language publications to English-language ones. Serious scholarship produced by "Western" academics does rely on local scholarship and knowledge production, but more can and should be done to translate these works to make them more widely accessible. For example, I recently assigned Ahmed Kanna’s Dubai: The City as Corporation to my students at NYUAD. Kanna draws heavily and productively on the writings of Emirati scholar Abdul-Khaleq Abdullah, thereby introducing his important work to Kanna’s English-language readership. As the majority of Abdullah’s articles have been published in Arabic, however, I am less able to assign them directly, meaning that "local" scholarship, like his, may be in danger of being presented or perceived as secondary to the English-language publications that build upon it.

Similarly, in my work on Socotra, I draw considerably on the texts written and published by the Socotran historian Ahmed al-Anbali (who resides in the United Arab Emirates), as well as on knowledge production by non-academics. The latter include Socotran guides, heritage brokers, and activists who, in response to and as a rejection of the international regime of "experts," are now fashioning themselves as what one may call "para-experts," engaged in an explicit and self-aware counter-form of knowledge production. Although I am mostly interested in the development and deployment of this parallel expertise (as opposed to the content itself), it remains a challenge to adequately present this knowledge production as scholarship and not just as ethnographic artifact. This is due in great part to what John Willis identifies as the incommensurable position of Yemeni academics in terms of their institutional and financial support and the different intellectual and political project in which they are engaged. Until recently, Socotran scholars were eager to promote a narrative of Socotran unity, stability, and exceptionalism. This has started to change, however, in the wake of the Arab uprisings, which have opened a space for more critical histories to be told.

Finally, as someone teaching at a US institution of higher education in the Gulf, I should say something about intellectual exchange and the proliferation of Western branch campuses mentioned by Al-Rasheed, Hanieh, and Vora. Madawi Al-Rasheed expresses concern that Western academic institutions (not just in the Gulf, but also in the West) may be forced through their funding sources to engage in self-censorship, if not the kind of outright censorship that occurred when Dr. Kristian Coates Ulrichsen was denied entry into the United Arab Emirates for a conference sponsored by the London School of Economics this past March. Adam Hanieh questions whether these institutions will reproduce dominant narratives about the Middle East and both Hanieh and Neha Vora raise the specter of their financial motives. It is undeniable that there are restrictions on academic freedom in these places—as there are in the United States and in Western Europe, especially when it comes to untenured faculty. Here at NYUAD we are guaranteed academic freedom in the classroom and within the institution more broadly, as long as we do not criticize the ruling families or Islam. Critics of these institutions perceive this as a profound infringement upon academic freedom and knowledge production. On the other hand, my students—Emirati, Filipino, American, and Palestinian—are reading and discussing Yasser Elsheshtawy, Andrew Gardner, Ahmed Kanna, and Neha Vora on structural violence, labor regimes, citizen-foreigner relations, and the politics of race, class, and space in the Gulf. In history classes, such as the ones taught by Pascal Ménoret, students are reading Madawi Al-Rasheed, Mamoun Fandy, Stephen Hertog, Toby Jones, Amelie Le Renard, Timothy Mitchell, and Robert Vitalis on resource extraction, corporate capitalism, imperialism, authoritarianism, political protest, and gender in the Arabian Peninsula. If our collective efforts to "theorize the Arabian Peninsula" take root, it will be in universities like NYUAD where students are eager to engage these analyses. This is only one way, but an important one, of creating a new generation of critical scholars and also of developing spaces of inquiry in which "local" scholarship is given serious attention within "Western" universities.

(5) Some argue that the Arab Uprisings changed the ways in which the Middle East can and will be studied. What has been the immediate impact of the Arab uprisings on scholarship on the Arabian Peninsula and what are likely to be the long-term effects?

The immediate impact of the uprisings on scholarship on the Arabian Peninsula has been an increased attention to both the transnational reverberations of these events and their antecedents—the politics of sectarianism in and across Arabian Peninsula states, the influence of the Muslim Brotherhood in the peninsula, the impact of social media transnationally, etc. Another result seems to be a renewed attention to various modes of sovereignty—state, popular, cultural—and its contestations. What may and hopefully will emerge with this, then, is the more thorough replacement of the Orientalist notion of "Gulf" states and societies as monolitihic and monochrome sites with a "thicker" understanding of the richness and complexities that underpins each Arabian Peninsula state individually and in relation to one another. To paraphrase Sheila Carapico, it should now become increasingly obvious that the entire Arabian Peninsula "is good for ethnography"—or, more importantly, that it deserves and requires a broader group of scholars’ critical attention.

 


Theorizing the Arabian Peninsula
electronic roundtable contributions:

Thinking Globally About Arabia by Toby C. Jones.

Knowledge in the Time of Oil by Madawi Al-Rasheed.

Capital and Labor in Gulf States: Bringing the Region Back In by Adam Hanieh.

Unpacking Knowledge Production and Consumption by Neha Vora.

Perspectives from the Margins of Arabia by Nathalie Peutz. 

Writing Histories of the Arabian Peninsula or How to Narrate the Past of a (Non)Place by John Willis.

Towards a Critical Cartography of the Political in the Arabian Peninsula by Ahmed Kanna.