Chihab El Khachab, Making Film in Egypt: How Labor, Technology, and Mediation Shape the Industry (New Texts Out Now)

Chihab El Khachab, Making Film in Egypt: How Labor, Technology, and Mediation Shape the Industry (New Texts Out Now)

Chihab El Khachab, Making Film in Egypt: How Labor, Technology, and Mediation Shape the Industry (New Texts Out Now)

By : Chihab El Khachab

Chihab El Khachab, Making Film in Egypt: How Labor, Technology, and Mediation Shape the Industry (American University in Cairo Press, 2021).

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

Chihab El Khachab (CEK): I have long had an interest in cinema, especially Egyptian cinema, having grown up in a family where watching, analyzing, and appreciating movies was so important. Since my undergraduate days, I have also been invested in anthropology and what it can bring to understanding the social and technical grounds of human creation. When I came to write a doctoral dissertation, on which this book is based, I thought that combining my interest in cinema and anthropology to produce a detailed account of how films are made, in practice, would be an interesting contribution. I was dissatisfied with much of the literature on film studies, which seemed to me a bit too speculative on matters of production and creation that could benefit from direct encounters with filmmakers. I was also dissatisfied with anthropological theory which—in my training at least—did not examine commercial film production in sufficient depth. This double dissatisfaction pushed me to study film industries as an anthropologist, and Cairo was a practical and fresh location to conduct this study.

… the question of understanding how filmmakers deal with the future of “the film” while it is still being made.

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

CEK: Making Film in Egypt is an ethnography of the everyday work of commercial film production in Cairo, based on fieldwork conducted between 2013 and 2015. The meat of the book describes the industry’s intricate working patterns, its division of labor, its modes of apprenticeship, its production process, its technological context, its logistical and creative issues, and its imagined audiences. The broad structure of the argument, however, is tied to the question of understanding how filmmakers deal with the future of “the film” while it is still being made. The filmmakers with whom I worked expect that there will be a film, but they cannot exactly predict how it will be made, so they resort to a certain division of labor, a certain sequence of operations, and various technological mediators to “foremediate” the final film—my way of saying that they constantly project all the interceding steps between now (when there is no film) and the future (when there is a film). Overall, the book is situated between the literature in media anthropology, media studies, and Middle East studies. 

Setting this broad structure aside, each chapter makes situated interventions in different subfields of anthropology and media studies. Chapter 3, for instance, contrasts two different ways of conceiving objects in social science—one common in material culture studies, where objects/commodities are studied by looking back at their past biographies, and another one I am proposing to explore how objects become future-oriented materials in complex sociotechnical processes—what I have called “reserves.” I am arguing that the use of devices like phones, laptops, and cameras is not a neutral fact of film production, but it allows filmmakers to constantly discuss, anticipate, and modify what comes next in the filmmaking process. I think that there is too little written on technological use in this way in media anthropology, not just Technology with a capital T, so I think that this chapter provides an interesting starting point to think about what devices do in a context like filmmaking and how they allow filmmakers to reflect on their work.

J: What are the stakes of studying film as a process, not a product?

CEK: I think that there is a tendency in some academic fields to congeal particular texts and products into objects of analysis without unpacking how they are constituted by and in a broader world—and film studies has been one of these fields. Watching and analyzing the finished film product becomes the major moment of knowledge production, but as valuable as this activity is, it remains insufficient to the extent that the objectified and commodified film product is never but a moment in a wider process of production, circulation, and (repeated) consumption. Once students and scholars notice the momentary and historically situated nature of the encounter with the film, it becomes clear that armchair analysis, however smart and thoughtful, cannot stand in for empirical investigation into the world constituting cinema—as production, as distribution, as viewing practice. This kind of investigation opens film studies beyond being a niche interest in a pre-packaged set of films and theories into becoming a way of understanding how human creation is socially and historically embedded. This is a project in which scholars working in media anthropology, cultural studies, and what is known as “production studies” have been engaged for several years now. 

An additional stake is to recognize the enormous amount of “hidden” labor that goes into the making of a film product. This labor is not really hidden to those who work in the film industry, but it is often sublimated by those who watch the product without thinking about the process, whether they are academics or not. I have written recently about how this erasure of labor—what I have called “reification”—is integral to the way in which the industry itself acts as a hierarchical space of commodity production. Being able to think about film as a process where numerous working contributions are made yet erased can shed a different light on the act of film viewing itself, and on the great effort expended to make the film look like what it ends up looking like.

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

CEK: I think about this book as the centerpiece in a larger set of interests I have in Egyptian mass media. I have done some work on Internet memes, on television pundits, and on a popular film genre called “Sobky,” all in a perspective combining cultural studies and anthropology to various degrees. This research is closer to what has been done in Arab cultural studies, but the core ethnographic experience that shaped my views and readings of these media phenomena is most completely displayed in Making Film in Egypt. If anything, the book shows how I think about media production in general, even though I am honing down on filmmaking only, as opposed to the work I have done elsewhere.

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

CEK: I hope that this book will be read by anthropologists, media studies scholars, and anyone—academic or not—with an interest in Egyptian cinema. First, I am hoping that this book can spark bigger and smaller conversations among anthropologists about the analytical tools available to describe the experience of making film, or using digital technologies, or anticipating the future—whether in the Middle East or elsewhere. I also hope that this book can continue to show to the anthropological community how “Egypt” is a more complex context than the mainstream ethnographies on the country would allow one to imagine.

Second, I think that this book can serve as an example of what ethnographic work can contribute both empirically and conceptually to media studies. There is now a strong body of scholarship in the anthropology of cinema (see this reading list), but I feel like this scholarship remains at the margins of film and media studies even though it has much to contribute. Lastly, I think that those interested in Egyptian cinema will find intriguing stories about how the industry works, but not in the way these stories are portrayed in the mainstream press. I would want Egyptian cinema amateurs to not just enjoy what big stars and directors do behind the scenes, but also understand and learn about all the work and workers who make movies what they are.

J: What other projects are you working on now?

CEK: I am writing a historical ethnography of the Ministry of Culture in Egypt, which is loosely inspired by scholarship in the anthropology of bureaucracy—notably Matthew Hull’s Government of Paper. I am trying to do two main things in this new book project: first, to give a somewhat detailed description of the Ministry of Culture as a multipolar institution; and second, to show how various administrations within the Ministry have been instrumental in shaping a coherent state project after national independence in 1952. While the cultural products made by the Ministry are regularly analyzed in literary studies, cultural studies, and art history—whether we are talking about government-sponsored books, films, plays, paintings, music, and so on—there is a surprisingly small amount of research on the Ministry itself, including its administrative structure, its everyday work, its integration within the wider state apparatus. So I am trying to explore what seems to me like a significant blind spot in studies of “culture” in Egypt. Moreover, building on understandings of the state as an “idea” (Philip Abrams) or an “effect” (Tim Mitchell), I want to provide a materially and institutionally grounded account of the Ministry of Culture’s role in shaping the state idea/effect in postcolonial Egypt.

 

Excerpt from the book (from Chapter 4, pp. 113 – 116) 

A week prior to the start of shooting in Décor, the assistant director Omar el-Zohairy was running around New Century’s office to make the key crew approve his schedule. The cinematographer Tarek Hefny was okay with the schedule, but disappointed that they would not be able to celebrate the New Year. “I can’t do otherwise,” answered Zohairy in a hurry, citing the constraints imposed by the holidays already booked by stars Horeya Farghaly and Khaled Abol Naga in the middle of the schedule. When Hefny gave him a mischievous look, Zohairy reacted in a defensive tone, “It’s not my fault, I told Horeya she’s the boss (rabb al-‘amal).” The art director Asem Ali joked that he would not have enough time to finish the set on this schedule, but Zohairy ignored the growing mockery and gave his schedule to the line producer Farghalli and the production manager Setohy. Both checked that the dates matched their own requirements, then made several photocopies to be distributed to the crew. 

Setohy went back to the other office, sitting across from the costume script supervisor Mariam el-Bagoury and the assistant stylist Asmaa. He asked Bagoury to send him the general costume breakdown in separate Excel sheets for every character, so that he could send each actor his/her costume list on its own. Bagoury seemed reluctant to separate the costume breakdown in this time-consuming way, so I offered to do it myself. While I parsed out each Excel sheet into a separate document on Setohy’s computer, Bagoury helped Asmaa parse out piles of paper in a binder to separate each character’s costumes. Meanwhile, Farghalli was making a location breakdown with his production assistant Georges, listing scene number, location name, and scene descriptions in three different colors on a blank sheet.

Later, Setohy signalled to Farghalli that they needed an actual VHS cassette of al-Layla al-akhira (The Last Night, 1964), a black-and- white melodrama to which Décor was broadly an homage. “We see Maha’s character put it inside the VHS machine in the movie,” explained Setohy. “They just need some videocassette,” replied Farghalli, adding that the material on screen will be taken from YouTube, but the cassette cover needs to look like it is The Last Night. “Where can I find this VHS?” asked Setohy. “Anywhere on Shawarbi Street,” answered the production assistant Mustafa Abu Zeid, who was sitting nearby. “I know, but I don’t remember the guy’s name...,” muttered Setohy while looking through his contacts to call the salesman in question. After dinner, Farghalli asked Setohy why the hairstylist Mohammed Hafez had not arrived to attend Yara Goubran’s fitting, which was taking place in another room. Setohy answered that Horeya Farghaly had not come that day. “He’s supposed to be the hairstylist for the whole film, not just Horeya,” grunted Farghalli. He got Hafez’s number from Setohy and called him outside the office. All I heard were his initial words: “What’s wrong, Hafez? You’ll screw over my appointments from the start?”

Around nine o’clock that night, Farghalli discussed the next day’s assignments with Setohy. With a to-do list in hand, they thought about how they could deliver the cash necessary to cover set building expenses in Studio Misr the next day. When Farghalli left, Setohy organized the next day’s assignments on paper. Around ten o’clock, the office was empty. Setohy and I were sitting on our own when we got a call from Farghalli. He said that Horeya Farghaly’s fitting had been delayed from eleven to one o’clock the next day. Setohy rolled his eyes and contacted all concerned crew members to notify them about the change. He first called the stylist Salma Sami, then the production assistant Rasha Gawdat, the makeup artist Mustafa Awad, the hairstylist Hafez, the costume script supervisor Bagoury (who did not answer, but Setohy sent her a text message), and lastly the costume assistant Refaat. When Setohy was done with one phone call, he would ask me to mark it down on his long handwritten to-do list. I helped him with these calls until we both went home late at night.

This extended description illustrates the complexity of the logistics involved in planning a feature film like Décor. All these activities occurred on a single day, which is but a fraction of the total work invested in preparing the shooting over six weeks. The flurry of preparations could be felt in the stench of cigarettes hovering around New Century’s office, where overflowing ashtrays covered the tables next to piles of paper, laptops, smartphones, one or two CDs, a three-in-one photocopier, tea glasses, lighters, empty cigarette packs, phone chargers, and some more trailing paper. The logistics of Décor were handled amid this commotion by Farghalli’s production team in conjunction with each artistic team and their key assistants—the assistant director, the script supervisors, the assistant decorator, and the assistant stylist. While I was told by Farghalli that each team had a different “system” to coordinate the shoot, they all faced the same logistical issues in need of more or less urgent solutions. Hence the endless reviewing of schedules, script breakdowns, shooting items, cash flows, appointments—in short, what would sustain the next shooting day.

These solutions are never exhaustive, because the overall outcome of logistical preparations (tahdir) is imponderable, while the steps moving toward execution (tanfiz) are contingent on the film’s unfolding. Going back to the opening vignette in the introduction, no one knew how the first shooting day would unfold a week prior to shooting, let alone how the shooting would unfold over the entire schedule. This does not mean that crew members capitulate to uncertainty; rather, they mediate the imponderable outcome of preparations and execution. Chapter 2 laid out the executive hierarchy and operational sequence within which logistical coordination conventionally occurs. Such conventions are central to successful coordination in a temporary organization such as a film set. Chapter 3 showed how technological objects act as “reserves” through which executive crew members summon mediators that aid their coordination tasks, while being summoned to execute these tasks eventually. This explains the overwhelming presence of paper, phones, and laptops in New Century’s office.

Despite all the assumptions and mediators marshaled by executive workers, preparing and executing the shooting remains imponderable to the individual agent. S/he mediates future outcomes by breaking them down into a set of contingent tasks, assigned to specific crew members at specific junctures in the filmmaking process. To individuals like Farghalli or Setohy, the imponderability of preparing and executing a shooting day becomes, through this mediation, a series of punctual tasks to which they are assigned and assign others—say, to approve the schedule, to get the VHS of The Last Night, to call crew members, to set appointments. This granular account of everyday film logistics echoes recent scholarship in production studies, with an ethnographic emphasis on the unpredictable environment within which my interlocutors operated day to day. Such an account brings to light a local division of labor with a different set of complexities to the ones handled by a transnational in “runaway” Hollywood productions.

This chapter describes how the shooting is prepared and executed in today’s Egyptian film industry. I start with a description of three logistical issues in film preparations—budgeting, scheduling, and transportation—while showing how they are, to the individuals in charge, imponderable without being uncertain. I go on to illustrate how logistical planning is never perfectly executed by describing the ways in which executive crew members try to avoid recurrent failures or “drops” on set. In this connection, I describe the asymmetrical expectations imposed on executive workers to be available and faultless. These expectations bear important consequences for the way in which contingent tasks are executed and, ultimately, the way in which imponderable outcomes are mediated. In conclusion, I reflect on the importance of technological devices in coordinating the shooting, which act as reserves summoning crew members to execute what remains to be done at each juncture in the filmmaking process.

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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.