Eberhard Kienle, Egypt: A Fragile Power (New Texts Out Now)

Eberhard Kienle, Egypt: A Fragile Power (New Texts Out Now)

Eberhard Kienle, Egypt: A Fragile Power (New Texts Out Now)

By : Eberhard Kienle

Eberhard Kienle, Egypt: A Fragile Power (Abingdon / New York, Routledge, 2022).

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

Eberhard Kienle (EK): The immediate reason was a call from Anoushiravan Ehteshami who wondered whether I would be ready to write a volume on Egypt for his Contemporary Middle East Series at Routledge. It looked like a golden opportunity to return to two related issues that had been pushed to the back of my mind by the 2011 protests and the return of authoritarian rule. First, I wondered why the different economic policies pursued by Egyptian governments since World War Two—despite the country’s assets, such as such as institutions performing, to an extent, in various areas—never led to anything like sustainable and inclusive development. Second, I was curious to explore further the extent to which the case of Egypt, endowed with these assets, confirmed my assumptions about the “variety of states” in the Arabic-speaking parts of the world which I sketched out on another occasion. Both questions are part and parcel of a broader concern with the future of a country where I had the privilege to spend many years of my professional life. 

Not all too long ago, the diversity of Arab states was illustrated by the Arab Spring. Even though the path in Egypt was bumpy and ultimately proved reversible or worse, a seemingly irremovable president for life resigned and stood trial in court, while competitive elections resulted in the (temporary) victory of his former opponents. Various attempts at violent repression notwithstanding, the protests were not crushed and did not develop into violent domestic conflicts across the entire country or a “civil war” like in Syria. Nor did they or such violence lead to the summary execution of the former strongman as it happened in Libya. As a state, Egyptian survived the (partial) transformation of its political regime with relative ease.

Evidence provided throughout the book illustrates that in institutional—and institutionalist—terms, Egypt became a consolidated and distinct political entity early on. Unlike Syria or Libya, delineated by imperialist fiat after World War, it had (been) taken (on) that course more than two centuries ago. Thanks to the flagging power of the Ottoman Empire, the process of state formation began before European imperialism lastingly left its imprint. Egypt developed institutions with a considerable impact on numerous walks of life; it also developed into a community of solidarity and loyalty—of people increasingly convinced that they formed a nation. including the one that Anderson calls an “imagined community.” Occasionally, as after 1952 and to a smaller extent after 2011, new institutions emerged in opposition to earlier ones, but almost always within for the same territorial and demographic entity. To cut a long story short, since the early nineteenth century, Egypt followed the trajectory of a nation-state in the narrow sense of the term and developed into a power of sorts.

However—and here we turn to my first question—the process was stymied by limited economic resources, at least in comparison to the heartlands of capitalism in Europe and later in North America. It was truncated when the imbalance of resources from the mid-nineteenth century increasingly facilitated European domination, culminating in British occupation from 1881 to basically the 1954 evacuation treaty, negotiated by Nasser two years after the Free Officers took power. As a result, external actors shaped institutions in ways that heavily influenced politics, as well as the creation and distribution of wealth. The legacy and path dependency continued to impact developments and available choices until today. Policies to catch up with the former imperialist masters no doubt appealed to Nasser, but they soon exacerbated the resource gap; subsequent choices like Sadat’s infitah failed to narrow the gap or even deepened it. In the end, Egypt remained a largely fragile or hypothetical power which, in terms of political centralization resembled its European counterparts, in terms of economic strength its neighbors in the global south. To me it looked challenging and stimulating to untangle these dynamics which help to answer the two questions raised above—quite apart from the pleasure of working in Egypt and with Egyptian colleagues. 

... it seeks to explain authoritarian rule in Egypt and its variations, salient features, and impact on economic and social policies.

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

EK: Seeking to understand why Egypt politically and economically has become what it is today, the volume draws on the historiography of the Eastern Mediterranean in the early nineteenth century; the literatures on state- and nation-building in the context of historical imperialism and foreign domination; and debates on the (international) political economy of the global South. Sensitive to the weight of institutions, it also explores the conditions of their demise. Against that backdrop, it seeks to explain authoritarian rule in Egypt and its variations, salient features, and impact on economic and social policies. Economic outcomes appear as the result of heavy external constraints (and occasionally opportunities) as much as of choices made by Egyptians. Social policies are not conceived as anything like a “social contract.” As implied by the previous paragraph, “a fragile power” is not “a fragile” or even “failed state.” 

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

EK: To an extent, the book obviously builds on my earlier writing on Egypt, in particular on A Grand Delusion: Democracy and Economic Reform in Egypt (London, I.B. Tauris, 2000); twenty years on, it largely confirms but also partly refines its main argument that in the 1990s, under Mubarak, policies of economic reform and liberalization reinforced authoritarian rule. However, its chronological and thematic scope is much wider and therefore takes much inspiration from the lively debates about the historical formation of the Egyptian state, its political economy, and international relations.

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

EK: Written for an academic as well as a broader public interested in Egypt, the Middle East, and the historical dimensions of current affairs, the book seeks to contribute to debates in Egypt and abroad about the institutions and policies that serve the interests and guarantee the liberties of all Egyptians. 

In this context, the volume also questions commonly held assumptions, or rather illusions, that Egypt with its current difficulties and government remains a factor of stability in the Middle East. No doubt, the Egyptian state is unlikely to disintegrate like its counterparts in Syria, Libya, or Yemen. However, the perennial conflict between the military-based governments that have been in power almost uninterruptedly since 1952 and their supporters, on the one hand, and their challengers, in particular the Muslim Brothers, on the other hand, smolders and continues. Rather than ideological, the conflict has largely been a conflict over who is in and who is out. It will not simply go away; rather it will be fueled by the persistent attempts of the military and its cronies to limit participation and even crowd out civilians in the private sector.

J: Where is Egypt going in the new future?

EK: The Sisi administration has not managed any better than its predecessors to put the country on a path towards sustainable and inclusive development. In fact, this government’s responses—like those of earlier governments—have compounded the difficulties and further removed the country from such a trajectory. Megaprojects such as the “new” Suez Canal and the new administrative capital near Cairo are not conducive to it; the former was built on exaggerated and largely unfounded assumptions about future traffic, while the latter reflects a logic of consumption and representation rather than production. The new authoritarian rulers continue to focus on rent-seeking and self-perpetuation rather than human resources, critical thinking, and innovation that might raise productivity. No transition to the production of higher value-added products has been initiated, nor has there been much success in terms of job creation for a growing population that now numbers more than one hundred million people. In spite of a few encouraging but unconfirmed figures here and there, inequalities in income, wealth, and opportunities have not decreased. 

By and large, the country continues to spend more resources than it produces, especially outside the volatile oil and gas sector, which only generates rents for the happy few. As in the past, transfers from abroad have kept the country afloat, most recently loans from the International Monetary Fund which had to be called in again—twice already since 2013. Despite some additional sensitivity to social concerns, the loan agreements for most Egyptians boil down to austerity measures. If it is true that some macroeconomic indicators have—temporarily—improved, most of the attendant “structural” measures fail to foster, and even impede, sustainable development and the more equal distribution of wealth. Sadly, under these conditions, the country will stumble along until the next crisis hits and another bailout follows—or not. Health, education, and human resources in general will further atrophy; people will try and emigrate, stage protests, or simply fall into apathy.   

J: What other projects are you working on now? 

EK: In a sense the companion volume to this one, my next book will focus on states in the Middle East that are less consolidated than Egypt. Conceiving them in terms of “limited statehood” rather than misconceiving them as “failed states,” I seek to explore what remains of them after years or decades of disintegration, internal conflict, in some cases “rebel governance” and foreign occupation, as well as atrophied or absent public policies including government services.   

 

Excerpt from the book (from the Introduction, pp. 12-14)

Revisiting some received ‘wisdoms’

The preceding account and the following chapters illustrate continuities across periods that, although often excessively reified, have been discussed in part of the literature. The end of the monarchy as a political regime did not coincide with the end of economic policies that relied on, or at least allocated an important role to, the private sector. Conversely, the advent of the republic did not mark the beginning of state intervention and étatism in economic policy. However timidly, the role of the private sector began again to be strengthened under the allegedly socialist Nasser, even though it was only with Sadat’s infitah that the shift acquired momentum.

Similarly, the volume shows the continuous presence of important authoritarian features in the sense of limitations to pluralism combined with centralized, unaccountable decision-making. Although these traits changed over time, they generally remained irreconcilable with a meaningful definition of democratic government or democratization. If Egypt was increasingly affected by global capitalism in the late 19th century, it never experienced the pervasive economic and societal transformations epitomized by the industrial revolution that forced the capitalist heartlands to accommodate resourceful constituencies and to enfranchise ever larger parts of the population down to workers and the destitute. To the contrary, in Egypt the democratizing European powers from the late 19th century heavily contributed to quell demands for political participation.

The authoritarian features of the monarchy fed on the highly unequal distribution of wealth propped up by external interference, external conflict, and ensuing lack of legitimacy. The 1952 coup swept away the monarchy all the more easily as Britain, exhausted by World War Two, was no longer able to compensate for the continuous erosion of its domestic support or, as it occasionally tried, to push for reforms. 

The Free Officers intended to reduce the remnants of the ancien regimé supposedly in league with imperialism, as well as other opposition forces; partly related disagreements among the Officers accentuated repression, as did external conflicts. The Officers also became convinced that state-led economic development and ‘modernization’ to catch up with the ‘developed’ world justified authoritarian rule. Like his successors under different circumstances, Nasser sought to avoid debates about distributing scarce resources. Over the decades, external aid related to Egypt’s ‘strategic’ location and other substantial rents further buttressed the rulers vis-à-vis their domestic challengers, actual or potential, even though at times aid reduced want and opposition.

Far more stringent than under the monarchy, the mechanisms of control and repression established under Nasser and attendant policies of co-optation and legitimation were inherited by Sadat and Mubarak, themselves officers; in spite of policy changes such as partial economic liberalization, the latter continued to defend the interests of the armed forces and their allies. Marked by considerable path-dependency, such continuity was briefly interrupted by the 2011 protests which, however, brought down a president rather the political regime and its ‘governmentality’.

Unsurprisingly, there is no evidence for claims that causally link authoritarian rule to the – alleged – absence of ‘democratic values’ or demands for participation; the latter have been repeatedly and forcefully illustrated, not least in 2011. Whether seen as a doctrine or a set of institutions and practises, Islam has not prevented Egyptians from seeking and promoting representative government, neither in 2011 nor in the latter part of the 19th century. As for Islamists, many of them were no democrats, but at crucial moments, they were courted by the rulers, in particular Sadat, who them- selves were no democrats. Similar reservations apply to the importance of (neo-) patrimonial dynamics and the (mis)use of public resources for private ends which may be seen as a consequence rather than a cause of authoritarian rule; at any rate, in Egypt, as in many other places, these dynamics had to compete with formal and institutional mechanisms. Equally unsubstantiated remains the claim that authoritarianism developed in tandem with large-scale irrigation infrastructures; in many instances, the former emerged without the latter and vice versa. Independently of its causes, authoritarian rule, often seen to expedite decisions, has left them to the whims of the rulers. The absence of consultation, participation, transparency, and consensus has negatively affected the quality of policies, not to mention their acceptance. In some cases, the lack of checks and balances simply allowed the rulers to replace common with their own or special interests – for instance, when crony capitalism thrived under Mubarak. More recently, the Sisi administration no doubt managed to build the ‘new’ Suez Canal in record time but never evaluated costs and benefits, which turned out to be different from expectations.

The volume moreover argues that disagreements between Islamists and non-Islamists (rather than secularists of which there never have been that many) – the latter including many Muslims – have not necessarily drawn the major battle lines in Egyptian politics. Sadat’s tactical rapprochement with Islamist organizations is only one example. Since the 1950s, the main divide has separated the armed forces and their allies from those who failed to join the alliance or were excluded and therefore missed the gravy train. Numerous officers and their civilian allies have allies have been Islamists in the sense that they wanted public and private life to be governed by values and norms they themselves considered Islamic. They were not concerned about Islamism as an ideology or set of practices; they were only concerned about Islamists who challenged their own position. No doubt, Nasser, in spite of earlier links with the MB, had little sympathy for the ‘Islamization’ of politics and society. On a famous occasion in 1958, he publicly ridiculed the idea that women should veil themselves. This being said, he knew when to invoke religion, if only symbolically – during the Suez War in 1956 for instance he addressed Egyptians from the minbar or chair of Al-Azhar. Mubarak frequently accommodated activities and demands by Islamists, provided they helped to marginalize armed groups or the MB, whom he deemed dangerous. It should be stressed though, that often the three presidents responded to ideological and normative changes that they could not control as they unfolded on a global scale.

Finally, echoing the book title, the decades since the end of World War Two illustrate the failure of successive economic policies to raise production and revenues to the level of consumption and expenditure, generate the resources necessary to play the role of a regional power, or ‘catch up’ with the ‘developed’ countries. Even progress towards the UN millennium and later sustainable development goals has been rather uneven. Those who devised and implemented policies often succeeded in making them work for themselves and their supporters. Under the monarchy, large landowners never lost out; in the last decade of Mubarak’s reign, well-connected entrepreneurs around his son Gamal considerably benefited from government policies and subsidies. However, neither the private-sector-based economic order under the monarchy, nor the increasingly étatist policies pursued under Nasser, the open-door policy under Sadat, or the more far-reaching economic reforms under Mubarak brought the country closer to anything that could be called sustainable development and distributional justice.

At best, the ultimate failure of successive economic policies has permanently reproduced a condition of fragile strength. To an extent, such failure has been part and parcel of a vicious circle in which lack of resources and limited capacities affect the formulation and implementation of policies. The frequent availability of strategic and other rents primarily fostered a sense of complacency. Matters were complicated by the cost of decades of conflict with Israel and by drawbacks of authoritarian rule. However, failure was as much the result of global developments and indeed relations of power that impose policies like infitah and structural adjustment and except in a few fortunate places favour the development of underdevelopment rather than development in any meaningful sense.

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.