Jillian Schwedler, Protesting Jordan: Geographies of Power and Dissent (New Texts Out Now)

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Nov 15, 2022 Jordan
Jillian Schwedler, Protesting Jordan: Geographies of Power and Dissent (New Texts Out Now)

Jillian Schwedler, Protesting Jordan: Geographies of Power and Dissent (New Texts Out Now)

By : Jillian Schwedler

Jillian Schwedler, Protesting Jordan: Geographies of Power and Dissent (Stanford University Press, 2022).

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

Jillian Schwedler (JS): In the early 2000s, I shared some political science articles on Jordan—including my own work—with one of my Jordanian colleagues. I later asked what they thought, and the comment was devastating: “I just don’t recognize Jordan.” The analyses were empirically correct, he said, but our focus on political parties, elections, parliaments, and other formal political institutions entirely missed what spaces and places where politics really happen. At the time, I was finishing my first book—Faith in Moderation: Islamist Parties in Jordan and Yemen (Cambridge 2006)—and had already decided that my next project would focus on protests in Jordan, which I had begun observing in 1996. But after receiving that comment, I was determined to write about the kind of politics that Jordanians would recognize—even if they disagreed with my take on it. Protesting Jordan is the result of that effort—a detailed analysis of some one hundred and fifty years of public claim-making and their many political effects.
What are the political effects of routine protests, given their ritual character, the repetitiveness of their demands, and the fact that they do not translate into political disruptions?

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

JS: The book’s central questions are broader than Jordan: Why do protests emerge in particular locations and moments and take the forms that they do? Why are state coercive apparatuses deployed unevenly against protests? What are the political effects of routine protests, given their ritual character, the repetitiveness of their demands, and the fact that they do not translate into political disruptions? What role do protests play in both challenging and reproducing state power? And how do regional and global financial and security arrangements shape protests at the local level and vice versa? Jordan is the central case study, but secondary examples show many surprising similarities with and connections to elsewhere in both the Global North and Global South. 

The analysis is sweepingly historical, beginning with nineteenth-century revolts against Ottoman practices and continuing through the Covid-19 pandemic. It diverges from most analyses of the British-Hashemite state-making process, which view the revolts and demonstrations of the 1920s and 1930s as failed, having been crushed often violently with crucial assistance from the British Royal Air Force. What conventional analyses miss is the extent to which those acts of public resistance profoundly shaped the state that eventually emerged, just as protests continue to shape the state until today. To give just one example of how protests shaped Jordan’s political geography: Emir Abdullah chose the small trading town of Amman as his new capital in part because he met strong resistance to establishing his seat in larger towns like Salt, where locals took to the street in protest upon his arrival. I show how protests have shaped not only the geography of the regime’s support base, but also the built environment.

The book makes a number of original theoretical interventions, particularly concerning the spatial and temporal dimensions of protest. For example, I challenge the assumption that large protests in the capital are necessarily more threatening to a regime than small protests in outlying towns. Size can matter, of course, but so can a protest’s location, message, and participants. Large protests of several thousand in downtown Amman, for example, elicit little police interference; a dozen people gathering under a tent in a small East Bank town, by comparison, can provoke the gendarmerie to tear down the tent and forcibly disperse the gathering. What explains this puzzle is that the large downtown protests—which, given Amman’s urban geography, do not disrupt traffic or commerce outside of the immediate area—often adhere to an established spatial and temporal regime: protesters gather at the Grand Husseini Mosque, march to the Municipal Complex, and disperse after a couple hours. At some of the small protests outside of the capital, by comparison, activists may erect tents and mount sustained sit-ins where they are increasingly willing to directly criticize the king, despite it being illegal under several laws. The book pays careful attention to these kinds of protest dynamics, for large and small protests, and the changing repertoires of protest and repression.

In addition to the spatial and temporal dimensions of protests, I also examine how protests both challenge and reproduce state power, and how protests and repression in Jordan are connected to regional and global security entanglements. I engage the literatures on protest and social movements, of course, but I also draw heavily on works in critical security studies, political geography, architecture and urban planning, and anthropological and Marxist approaches to the state. 

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

JS: Protesting Jordan departs entirely from my earlier work, notably the inclusion-moderation hypothesis that I examined in Faith in Moderation. As noted above, I turned away from the study of formal institutions to put the agency of those asserting political claims in public at the center of my research agenda. But instead of focusing on a particular movement or wave of protests, I situate all manner of public claim-making in a long durée historical context, moving between the global and regional level, to the national and governorate levels, down to cities, towns, and even individual intersections and traffic circles. We see broad patterns of protest and repression across time and space, and we spend an afternoon in one location as protesters and police agencies gradually assemble and eventually disperse. The book also presents the most comprehensive examination of the spatial dynamics of Jordan’s protests during the period of the Arab uprisings, culminating in November 2012 when Jordanians did—contrary to what many analyses state—chant the uprisings slogan, “The people want the fall of the regime!” Finally, the book examines protests as well as urban space ethnographically, exploring how protests shape the built environment and vice versa. And I pay very close attention to what protesters say and do—their chants, slogans, placards, songs, and dances. What I found was an almost shocking escalation of instances in which Jordanians were directly criticizing the king—sometimes even mocking him. In sum, in terms of scope, methodology, and theoretical focus, Protesting Jordan marks a serious departure from Faith in Moderation and, at least for me, offers a much richer understanding of politics and how people seek to make their own history. 

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

JS: I hope those interested in Jordan will find much that is empirically new here, as well as a fresh take on a state often analyzed through the tired narrative of being “forever on the brink” of collapse. But I think that protests are worthy of theorization in the own right, and so I am aiming to make larger interventions into other debates on protest and contention, the most original of which advance the small but growing literature on the spatial and temporal dimensions of protest in the built environment. The book is also a provocation to the literature on authoritarianism in the Middle East. I would be thrilled to see others adopt my approach to other cases in the Middle East and other regions, as that would give us a greater ability to explore these issues comparatively.

J: What other projects are you working on now?

JS: I am currently working on an article-length project on protest, gender, and public space that is comparative at a global level. It builds on some insights from Jordan that I was not able to fully develop in the book, so it is related but distinct.

After that, I plan to start a major comparative project on gift shops run by revolutionary organizations, past and present, across the globe. I have already begun preliminary research on the gift shops at Hizollah’s museum near Mleeta in Lebanon and Sinn Fein’s bookshop/giftshop on the Falls Road in Belfast.

 

Excerpt from the book (from Chapter 5: An Ethnography of Place and the Politics of Routine Protests, pp. 127-131) 

Protests are mounted in spaces that have other uses and meanings, as the very purpose of protest is to disrupt the normal to attract attention for claim-making. Even sustained occupations are mounted in spaces that have other uses and meanings. Here an ethnography of place is illuminating. In addition to examining the materiality of a particular location and how it is structured (Henri Lefebvre’s sense of abstract space), an ethnography of place explores how it is used, by whom, and what kind of place it is (concrete space, or “place”)—its meanings, its history, its affective dynamics, its location in spatial imaginaries, and how it embodies and conveys different forms of power. Lived and embodied spaces are produced and reproduced through their daily usage as much as through the disruptions created during moments of protest. … Attention to the rhythms and practices of spaces during non-protest times—including their affective dimensions—can deepen our understanding of how protests alter those spaces.

Take the protests that begin at the Grand Husseini Mosque in downtown Amman. For more than a century, the mosque has been known as the go-to place for demonstrations in the capital. But the location has many other meanings and uses, and those have changed over time. For decades it was the center of commerce in the city as well as the site of government administrative offices. But as Amman expanded, those offices and many businesses relocated westward in diverse locations. … Upscale hotels, restaurants, and shopping areas also emerged in western neighborhoods, creating the new spatial imaginary of “West Amman” associated with affluence, government power, and global connections. The Royal Court and Municipal Complex are still located downtown, but the area gradually deteriorated into a low-end shopping and dining destination for the lower classes and tourists visiting historic sites like the Roman ruins. Now considered by some as part of impoverished “East Amman,” the old city center is dusty, dirty, and loud. It has rhythms and energy that some find welcoming and lively, but that many West Amman residents avoid as trashy and dangerous. 

How does understanding this atmosphere of the downtown area expand our understanding of protests there? For one thing, examining the rhythms and activities of the area in periods when there are no protests can help us understand precisely how protests disrupt those normal routines, and how those disruptions are experienced. When a large demonstration has been announced to commence at the Grand Husseini Mosque, for example, shop owners and customers who arrive that morning may encounter police vehicles or barricades. Some people will choose to leave the area to avoid inconveniences caused by the protest—such as detours necessitated by crowds and closed streets—but others will go about their routines even as the police presence steadily increases over the next hours. The atmosphere is typically not one of anxious anticipation of violence, however, but of mild curiosity if not outright indifference. Shop owners do not rush to board up windows; indeed, many stay open throughout protests, perhaps even hoping the crowds might bring a spike in business …. Some downtown protests are exceptions, as the next chapter will show, but most are routine and even boring. This affective response to impending protests downtown tells us that people are accustomed to protests in that space, and that they expect both protesters and the police to follow a familiar and non-violent routine. 

This chapter examines routine protests as they are situated in the built environment. The scale of analysis zooms in on a single location, an area adjacent to the Kalouti Mosque in the affluent neighborhood of Rabia in West Amman. Built in the late 1990s, the mosque became place for protest during the Second Intifada in 2000, given the location’s proximity to the Israeli embassy. After those first massive protests of thousands strong for months, the Kalouti protests over time developed their own spatial and temporal routine, mostly unfolding in a predictable manner and in an atmosphere lacking tension or anxious anticipation. What are the political effects of such routine protests, given their ritual character, the repetitiveness of their demands, and the fact that they are seldom disruptive? I first examine how protests become routine, and why protesters often adhere to informal rules of routines specific to a location. I then provide an overview of Palestinian solidarity protests in Jordan to establish patterns that bring the particularities of the Kalouti protests into focus. Next, I examine the spatial and temporal routine of protests at the Kalouti Mosque in the 2000s through an ethnography of place, including how protests, police, and those not protesting move in and across the area before, during, and after protests. Finally, I show that while protests make claims on authority structures, the spatial and temporal routines of certain protests can simultaneously work to shore up the regime’s power. 

Rules, routines, and repertoires

In June 2009, I sat in a taxi on my way to a protest in West Amman, directing the driver to a nearby landmark without mentioning that a protest was my destination. As we sat ensnarled in traffic, the driver complained about political demonstrations causing congestion. This affective response of annoyance rather than nervousness reminded me of my time living in Washington, DC, when taxi drivers similarly complained about closed streets and slowed traffic caused by protests. It is surprising, however, that localized protests are as normal a part of the urban environment in Amman as they are in Washington, DC, because the Jordanian state is authoritarian. Protests in Jordan thus challenge scholarly assumptions about differences in the expression of political dissent between democratic and non-democratic contexts. 

That many Jordanians are astonished to learn how widespread protests are attests to their normalcy—most protests simply are not news. Many scholars are like Jordanians in this regard, in that they seem to take note of protests only when they are “big events” that hold the possibility of upending existing power structures. The Arab uprisings attracted such attention not only because of the spectacle of massive demonstrations in multiple countries simultaneously (see Chapter 6), but also because they brought down regimes and sent others scrambling to survive. As the alternately outraged and elated masses in multiple countries asserted their collective agency, they created the kind of moments in which new worlds suddenly seem possible, even within reach. But such “eventful” moments are relatively rare. Most protests hold little possibility of realizing the claims they are making, if they register at all. … 

Outside of rare eventful moments, most protests are shaped by established repertoires, the known forms of protest and the kinds of police responses they will likely elicit. The informal rules of these repertoires can be violated, of course, albeit typically with greater consequences for protesters than for the police. Indeed, repertoires evolve precisely because participants—police as well as protesters—innovate or test red lines. …

The “rules” of the repertoire can also differ depending on who is protesting—whether they are known activists, political elite, first-time protesters, laborers, or members of a prominent family or tribe, to give just a few examples. … Meanwhile, outspoken critics such as parliament member Hind al-Fayiz (from both the powerful Fayiz family and the Bani Sakhr tribal confederation) routinely push boundaries and criticize the regime. And the informal rules are not only discursive but also spatial and temporal; red lines are drawn not only around what can be said and done and by whom, but also where one can do it and for how long. In this sense, spaces in which protests are repeatedly mounted develop spatial routines specific to them, even as they are instances of more general events such as “march.” 

Protests at the Kalouti Mosque are ideal for a theorization of the spatial and temporal dimensions of routine protests. How did these protests become routine? What are the spatial and temporal dimensions of that routine, and what are the red lines whose crossing might invite escalated repression? How can an ethnography of place at the Kalouti protests help us understand the atmosphere and disruptive potential of the Kalouti protest routine? The next section locates the Kalouti protests within a nationwide geography of protest against Israel and in solidarity with the Palestinian struggle before turning to the Kalouti protests themselves.

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Mandy Turner By :
Mandy Turner

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.