Dima Issa, Fairouz and the Arab Diaspora: Music and Identity in the UK and Qatar (New Texts Out Now)

Dima Issa, Fairouz and the Arab Diaspora: Music and Identity in the UK and Qatar (New Texts Out Now)

Dima Issa, Fairouz and the Arab Diaspora: Music and Identity in the UK and Qatar (New Texts Out Now)

By : Dima Issa

Dima Issa, Fairouz and the Arab Diaspora: Music and Identity in the UK and Qatar (Bloomsbury Press, 2023).

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

Dima Issa (DI): I grew up listening to the music of Fairouz through my parents who would start their days by playing her songs. However, she became more meaningful to me as I left home to pursue my degrees in higher education. There was a particular moment I remember when I was on a number nine bus in London heading towards Aldwych. It was raining and cold and I felt so completely homesick—for my home in Doha where I grew up—and insignificant. The bus was full and there was just so much going on. I was overwhelmed. At that moment I played one of her songs on my iPod and a sense of comfort and familiarity just enveloped me. There is power there, power in her voice, and in her songs. Then, when I moved to the United States a year later, at the onset of the Arab uprisings my social media pages were full of either videos of her songs or pictures of the protests with her lyrics captioning them. It was as if she was narrating and contextualizing the hope and determination that was on the streets of the Arab world. I just felt that Fairouz meant so much to people, not just at a private level but at a public one as well. That is when I seriously started thinking about the role she played in the lives of Arabs around the world. This coincided with a course I was taking at the University of Southern California called Audio Culture with Professor Josh Kun. The course aimed at showcasing the ways in which historical milestones and contexts can and should be examined through sonic landscapes rather than just relying on visual archiving. In a sense this book is testament to the ways in which music and sound can provide alternative perspectives to global and local political, social, and cultural dynamics.

The interviews were often an emotional process and discussions with the participants about Fairouz brought up personal stories of loss and love.

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

DI: This book is really about the lives of the Arab diaspora living in London and Doha and the ways in which music allows them to navigate different aspects of their identity. It compiles the individual stories of members of the Arab diaspora through the music of Fairouz. The interviews were often an emotional process and discussions with the participants about Fairouz brought up personal stories of loss and love. A number of other themes also emerged, like Arabness and what it means to be an Arab, as well as how listeners wanted to pass on Arabness to their children through Fairouz and her songs. The book also discusses the various sociocultural perspectives of al-watan, the nation, and the ways members of the diaspora envision different facets of al-watan by incorporating the lyrics of Fairouz’s songs that move away from a limiting political and historical discourse. The book also explores notions of authenticity, iltizam (commitment), memory, gender, and belonging through their relationships with space and time. By drawing on affect theory, memory studies, Bourdieu’s notion of habitus, and Walter Benjamin’s concept of the “aura,” among others, there is a solid theoretical foundation that grounds the book. 

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

DI: My work has always examined the relationship of media and the Arab diaspora. As someone who has lived in many different places, the media has always contributed to some form of understanding of the world and my place within it. I have constantly struggled with my sense of identity and belonging and I know many others living in the diaspora also feel the same way. I think popular culture allows for this conversation of experience. Among the Arab diaspora, media consumption gives insight into sociopolitical and cultural factors that may otherwise be ignored in research, but also it allows audiences to find place within different spectrums of their identity. I have also always enjoyed more qualitative forms of research, mainly because I love hearing people’s stories. My previous work was on Turkish soap operas and the roles they played in the lives of Arab communities living in Qatar and in the United States. Through that research it was evident that belonging was a diverse process that was both lived and imagined. The Turkish soap operas gave Arab migratory audiences more room for identifying and connecting with the characters, as opposed to more Western shows, and based on this they were able to relate the shows to different points of reference in their lives.

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

DI: Honestly, there is no specific audience this book is targeting. It is a book about human experience at a time in which there is much global uncertainty. I hope that all readers connect to the human aspects where we are all trying to figure things out at various levels, but also that they recognize the diversity of diasporic experience and the multifaceted ways it can translate for Arab diasporic communities. I also feel like this book is archival and so I would really hope the participants and their families and friends read it as their stories are shared for all to see. There is also an academic element to the book, which I hope will open up opportunities for more research and conversation on the topics of music, identity, and the Arab diaspora. 

J: What other projects are you working on now?

DI: Since I am mostly based in Lebanon now, I have moved away a little bit from work on the Arab diaspora. Lebanon is a great place for research, as there is a lot going on! There are a couple of projects in the pipeline that mostly revolve around themes of soundscapes and music in Lebanon as well as exploring forms of gender representation in Lebanese media. I am also looking at the relationship of comedic performances and political discourse in Lebanon. 

J: Have you met Fairouz? 

DI: Not yet, but there is always hope.

 

Excerpt from the book (from Chapter 1, pp. 1-3) 

Her voice would breeze through the air conditioning vents, brushing my bedroom curtains open, revealing the morning sun. I would sleepily make my way across the cold, tiled floor, barefoot and yawning, to my parents, who would be seated in the glassroom, overlooking the bright bougainvillea vines, vinca plants and jasmine shrubs in our garden. They would sip their Lebanese coffee as they listened to the croons and whispers from one of her CDs. My mother would sing along almost in a trance, her beautiful voice matching every note, as my father clicked his fingers and swayed his head along to the music. Her voice comforting, but sometimes overwhelming, would envelope my parents in a sentimental embrace while simultaneously commanding their constant attention. Her songs, melancholy memory and patriotic love, would take us back to narrow alleyways, cobblestones and the Mediterranean sea, to a time of innocence and peace, of stability and acceptance. Fairouz’s daily calls shaped our Lebanese heritage and cemented our displacement.

In 1953, at just eighteen years old, my father, the eldest of eight children, left his small town of Amioun, in the north of Lebanon, to provide for his family. Almost twelve years later he married my mother, and together they built a life for my sisters and me, filled with love, food and Fairouz. It was through Fairouz and her music that we felt a sense of belonging and un-belonging. On religious holidays, like Easter and Christmas, it was Fairouz’s hymns that would complement our lavish meals. Her Easter songs, hauntingly poignant, would move women and men to tears, while her Christmas songs would add to the merriment of the occasion, prompting dancing and cheering. At dinner parties, her voice would serve as the audible ambience, occasionally halting conversations while guests joined her in song. On long drives through the Qatari desert, Fairouz kept us company, providing a sonic contrast to the barren sandy roads, with her vivid descriptions of lush greenery and village life. On CDs, cassette tapes and videos, my parents kept Fairouz close and accessible.

As a teenager, who grew up outside of Lebanon and attended international schools, Fairouz and her songs were foreign to me. She was part of something I felt no affiliation with. A world far away from my Nirvana CDs and Guns N’ Roses mix-tapes.

In my eyes, she was for my Arabic-speaking parents – for a generation who were constantly looking for something they had left behind. It was a feeling I did not share, that is, until I left home in my twenties and travelled to pursue my masters’ degree in London and then Los Angeles. Fairouz was there to comfort me, to recognize and single me out during my feelings of insignificance in big unfamiliar cities, whether on the bus, on the tube or in the confines of an empty house. Through my weathered earphones, Fairouz became both the means through which I could travel to the warmth of home and, simultaneously, the destination point.

However, Fairouz’s voice does not remain confined to the private sphere of families or the home. Among Arabs, Fairouz is a harbourer of both public and private issues, symbiotically collapsing and redefining the two. The appeal of her voice is never denied but, for most listeners, Fairouz’s pull is found in the content of her music, serving as a reminder of family and home, of one’s individuality, of one’s position in a community, and, possibly, in the diaspora, of one’s inability to gain complete integration. With technological development over the past few decades, and in the waves of revolutions across the Middle East and North Africa, since January 2011, Fairouz has been appropriated by different media and in various contexts. I remember sitting on my bed in my room in a rented house I shared with two roommates in Echo Park at the onset of the Arab uprisings. I felt far. Distant. Physically removed from Tahrir Square and Sidi Bouzid, but I was emotionally invested, connected, present. Pouring over news sites and messaging friends, hungry for any information I could find. During my search I found a slew of pages on social networking sites, adorned with Fairouz’s visuals, quotes and melodies. Footage and images of protests from around the Arab world were juxtaposed with her music. Users uploaded videos of her plays, while some merely typed out lines from her songs. In whatever format, Fairouz became a tool of expression, a symbol for protest and a dream of a better world. Utilizing Fairouz’s voice and songs as a form of storytelling is not a new concept; her songs about Palestine and Lebanon, of war and destruction, have been seen as a defiant force for years. But here it was alive and living, positioning the protests through lyrics that were written decades before.

Amidst the tumultuous wave of events across the Arab world since January 2011, and bearing in mind attitudes towards Arabs in the Western world since 11 September 2001 (and arguably before), Fairouz could not be more significant. Through her songs, Fairouz offers her listeners a space in which to engage, reflecting on the past but making room for the present and future. In the depths of a crumbling economy, a fraudulent government and a global pandemic, a bomb destroyed the Port of Beirut in Lebanon on 4 August 2020. Estimated to be the equivalent of 1,000 to 1,500 tonnes of TNT – a tenth of the power of the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima – the explosion killed hundreds, displaced thousands and badly damaged buildings, homes and property within its six-mile radius. The country went into mourning. Making matters worse, the Lebanese government took no responsibility, or even commented on the atrocity, sparking further anger and frustration among an already exhausted population. Weeks after the blast, French president Emmanuel Macaron paid a visit to Lebanon. His first official visit was to Fairouz’s home, where he awarded the singer with the French Legion of Honour, the highest of awards. The visit was seen as symbolic, a nostalgic appraisal of the Lebanon she had sung for and about all her life. A hopeful, idyllic and romanticized Lebanon, a stark contrast to the Lebanon of today, which was corrupt, broken and filled with despair. More importantly, the award showcased the strength of Fairouz, her emblematic position, what she stood for and what she meant, not just for Lebanon but also for her listeners across the world.

There is extensive research on Fairouz in both English and Arabic. However, it mostly focuses on her biography or discography, or discusses her relationship with Assi and Mansour Rahbani, her son Ziad, or studies her songs, through either a literary or ethnomusicology perspective. Consequently, there was a need for an audience reception study to examine the ways in which the singer factors in the lives of her listeners.

This book is not aimed at elucidating any more information about Fairouz, but, rather, it is a means through which to understand the lives of members of the Arab diaspora who listen to her music and feel a sense of belonging in her songs. Belonging here is seen as a form of negotiation, which is reliant on both individual and global factors that can converge and diverge on different planes of social construction and identity. Not only will this book explore how Fairouz’s music assists in the understanding and construction of identity, but it will also shed light on how this identity factors within migratory environments.

Placing the Arab diaspora of Doha and London at the forefront, I investigate the role Fairouz’s music plays in their lives while simultaneously shedding light on the circumstances shaping their diasporic experiences.

  • ALSO BY THIS AUTHOR

    • Fandom, Fairouz, and Lebanon

      Fandom, Fairouz, and Lebanon

      The thing with Fairouz is that you can never really pinpoint the exact moment in time when you became a fan of her work. She seems to have always been there, lurking in the shadows of your morning coffee, or on the radio as you commute through the streets of Beirut, or blaring from the old transistor your dad used to listen to during the war that has miraculously found its way unscathed to the kitchen of your house. In whatever way, Fairouz has always been part of your life as an Arab, whether you were conscious of her presence or not. Although my research has primarily focused on Arab diasporic responses to Fairouz and her music, her impact, and relevance within Lebanese households and across social media platforms cannot be ignored and must be discussed before delving into her role as an icon among broader Arab audiences. 

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.