Sharqiyya ّاﻟﺸﺮﻗﻴﺔ

A Publication of the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies Sharqiyya

ّالشرقية Sharqiyya A Publication of the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies, Tel Aviv University

Editors Annie Tracy Samuel Heidi Basch-Harod Ben Silsbee

Editorial Board: Uzi Rabi Ehud Toledano Esther Webman About Sharqiyya

Sharqiyya is a peer-reviewed academic journal published by the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies at Tel Aviv University and the Middle East & Islamic Studies Association of Israel. It publishes scholarly articles about the recent history and politics of the Middle East and North Africa and seeks to promote and disseminate the work of scholars with firsthand knowledge of the region’s cultures and languages.

This will be the final issue of Sharqiyya in its present form. Beginning in 2014, Sharqiyya will merge with Rihla, the student journal of Tel Aviv University’s International Master of Arts in Middle Eastern Studies Program (MAMES). The new Rihla, like Sharqiyya, will include articles, essays, and photographs about the recent history and politics of the Middle East and North Africa from graduate students all over the world, and particularly those with firsthand knowledge of the region’s language and cultures.Rihla will also seek to feature one article from a senior scholar in each issue.

The editors of Rihla are now accepting submissions. Articles should be written in English and should be no more than 3,000 words. Please send all submissions and inquiries to [email protected]. Table of Contents

Letter from the Editors...... 5

Women’s Dialogues in the Galilee: Voices, Questions, and Echoes of Change in the Middle East Liora Lukitz ...... 7

Women, Islam, and Public Protest before and after the Arab Spring Moyra Dale...... 15

‘Urfi and Delayed Marriage in Egypt Shoshi Shmuluvitz...... 22

The European Union’s Response to the Arab Spring and the Limitations of Normative Power Alexey Khlebnikov...... 30 Letter from the Editors

Since the outbreak of the Arab uprisings in late December 2010, we have read about and witnessed the women of the Arab Middle East using their voices to be heard, to be seen, to be respected, to be empowered, and to be a meaningful party in the decision making of their future and that of their respective societies. Portraying women as a formidable contingent of the uprisings, the world’s media outlets continue to cover women’s struggles in the Middle East. Many of the stories written are the same. Descriptions of women taking to the streets, commingling with men or separated into women-only groups of protestors, veiled and un-veiled. With their appearance, talk of secular versus religious groups and the jockeying for power over the state, its legislature, and, most importantly, its constitution fill the lines of copy on the women of the “Arab Spring.” Suddenly, the global news-consuming audience is an expert on buzzwords and terms like Salafis, Islamists, Muslim Brotherhood, and shari‘a, words that entered into the Western world’s vocabulary following the events of September 11, 2001, words that have become more and more familiar over the years of military and humanitarian involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan. In the discussion of women and the Arab uprisings, those words are tied into the future of women in the Middle East. Consequently, global decision makers and their entourages of analysts and aides are scrambling to interpret how women have and will include themselves in the discourse on the establishment of democracy, civil society, and global politics. For those who look deeper into the stories, discoveries of decades-long women’s movements in Egypt, Tunisia, Morocco, Jordan, Bahrain, and even Yemen have come to the fore. Women in this region of the world have been struggling for decades for their rights to custody of their children after divorce, to work in public places, to vote, to pass on their citizenship to offspring, to utilize the education that so many now possess. Indeed, years of rule under Western-backed dictatorships proved to be a mixed blessing for the women of the Middle East.* The articles contained in this edition of Sharqiyya bring important voices into that discussion, voices that go well beyond the headlines to share perspectives from the inside out. In her article on the efforts of Arab female students in northern Israel to overcome obstacles to their personal and professional development, Liora Lukitz examines how the echoes of the Arab Spring have reverberated in the Galilee. Moyra Dale’s article on women, Islam, and public protest provides the historical context that is often missing from commentaries on recent events, and challenges common assumptions of whether women’s involvement in the Arab Spring protests may (or may not) enhance their ability to influence their society and claim more complete control over their rights. Shoshi Shmuluvitz hones in on one particular area in which gender roles are currently being disputed in her examination of

* These paragraphs are adapted from an article written by Sharqiyya editor Heidi Basch-Harod entitled “Shame and Honour Re-appropriated: Women Finding their Voices” and published by open Democracy, which can be found at http://www.opendemocracy.net/5050/heidi-basch-harod/shame-and-honour-re-appropriated-women- finding-their-voices. 6 Letter from the Editors / Sharqiyya

‘urfi and delayed marriage in Egypt. Finally, Alexey Khlebnikov analyzes the impact of the Arab Spring on the states in neighboring regions and how the European Union’s response to the revolutions in North Africa reveals the precarious nature of Europe’s normative power. If anything is clear about the Arab Spring, it is that we have much left to understand, especially as the various transitions in the region are still taking place. By shedding light on the voices and history at the heart of the region, we hope that the articles contained in this issue of Sharqiyya contribute to constructing a rich and complex conception of the Middle East.

Annie Tracy Samuel, Heidi Basch-Harod, Ben Silsbee Editors Women’s Dialogues in the Galilee: Voices, Questions, and Echoes of Change in the Middle East

Liora Lukitz1

This article is the outcome of three years of field work in a leading college of engineering in northern Israel. It examines the efforts of Arab female students in the area to overcome the multifold obstacles to their personal and professional development posed mainly by their predominantly patriarchal and traditional environments. Instead of accepting their prescribed roles in a male-dominated and restrictive society, these young women are confronting the barriers to personal and collective emancipation with confidence, awareness, and newly acquired skills. As a minority within a minority—educated young women within the Arab minority in Israel—their efforts to become accomplished professionals and to redefine their position in society reflect an unprecedented change in their self-perception as individuals and point to their potential contributions to the progress of their own communities. This article also examines how these efforts reflect larger trends and provide new insights into the events that are reshaping the region, specifically the struggle of Arab women in a changing Middle East to reform their societies and be fully incorporated into political and economic life. The rise of Islamist parties in Egypt and Tunisia during the Arab Spring was a turning point in this struggle and further reinforced the need to analyze its effects on women’s positions throughout the region. The young Arab women of northern Israel perceived these events with both apprehension and hope, fearing that radicalization might spill over into their communities and jeopardize their fight for equal professional opportunities. At the same time, they believed that if the struggle for reform led by women in the region succeeds, they too will benefit. The questions discussed in this article first arose during a conversation with some of my female students at Braude College of Engineering in northern Israel’s Galilee region.2 The discussion took place in my course on the role of media in reshaping the Middle East, and centered on comparisons of the fight for women’s rights in the Middle East in the 2000s with the struggle of women in the region during the 1980s and the 1990s as represented in the media. The students’ comments during and after class inspired me to set up a dialogue between them and Inaam Wali, the leading actress in Iraq’s National Theatre who fought Saddam Hussein’s regime before leaving Iraq and reconstructing her life in Germany as a free, secular woman. I believed this cross-generational dialogue could help my students understand women’s struggles for rights at different historical stages. The exchange was conducted online and in person over the course of several weeks following the onset of the

1. Liora Lukitz was a research fellow at the Center for Middle East Studies, Harvard University, and winner of a H.F. Guggenheim Foundation research award. She has published extensively on Iraq and the clashes between nationalism and radical Islam. At present she is developing a project on New Media, Animation and Conflict Management in and about the Middle East and a second volume on Gertrude Bell. 2. These students participate in a project I am developing on new media and conflict management in the Middle East. 8 Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya

Arab uprisings. It became the core of this article because it illustrates the similarities and differences in calls for reform at different points in time, and helps reassess the nature of women’s struggles in both secular and more traditional environments. Current events in the region at the time of our discussions clearly affected my students’ tales of their educational and professional challenges. As they evolved, our discussions included questions about the meaning of reform in a region where basic questions of nationalism, religion, and identity are intertwined with questions of gender politics. These questions also permeated the conversations between Walaa, a Ph.D. candidate in mathematics at the University of Haifa who is concurrently completing a degree in education at Braude College, and Inaam Wali, whose inspirational experience threw light on topics that are often overlooked in writings on women’s issues—topics such as the role of female performers as promoters of change and the impact of an imposed “cultural exile” in one’s own or another country on the personal struggle for equal opportunities. Comparisons between Inaam’s struggle for the right of self-expression through art and the students’ attempts to become equal through science raised questions about their quest for leverage as agents of change. The students believed that their clearer professional goals and more pragmatic approach would better serve them in their fight for equality than Inaam Wali’s more abstract agenda as an actress. But these initial assessments also changed over the course of their dialogue. These conversations, centering on the best way to inspire, tackle, and implement reform (either through the arts or through science and technology), evolved to include questions concerning the identification of role models, i.e. female leaders who inspire emerging generations of women and help them define what reform could really mean in the region. In this particular discussion, the subject of the hijab and its symbolism arose, as the hijab had first served as a symbol of religious devotion in Palestinian society and later as one of national identity and political assertiveness among Palestinian women in Israel. As they followed the struggles of women in neighboring countries, I asked the students to consider the following question: Are the attempts at reform leading to a “paradigm shift,” namely, a radical revision of women’s status in society, or merely to a shift in emphasis that would, in this case, mean a smoother reformulation of women’s aims and goals?

Pastoral Settings, Educational and Professional Challenges

Most of the students who participated in the class debates came from middle class families living in villages in the area around the college. Some also came from villages in the Emek (Jezreel Valley), and others traveled from Acre and Haifa. It is important to take note of the diversity in the locales from which the students journeyed, as it reflects the variegated composition of the group and illustrates the literal lengths to which these women ventured for the sake of professional achievement. The villages in this region are, both culturally and religiously, traditional suburban communities that surround towns with mixed Jewish-Arab populations. The cities of Acre, Haifa, Nazareth, Nahariya, Afula, and Karmiel are vibrant centers where inhabitants of Umm al-Fahm, Baqa al-Gharbiya, Kafr Manda, ‘Araba, Tamra, Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya 9 and Dayr al-Asad, (among other Arab towns and villages in the Emek and Lower Galilee) come for shopping and entertainment. Families, children, and veiled women regularly drive to visit malls, souks, and beaches, especially during Muslim holidays. Among the students were secular and religious young women, students in the arts, humanities, and sciences, all of whom are fighting for equal opportunities in a modernizing society. Students with a rural background, although much more traditional than those of the students coming from towns or smaller urban settings, did not adopt more traditional attitudes on the need to gain a profession and to advocate for their rights. A small number of Christian students, mainly from Haifa, also participated in the debate, but their views on these issues were not very different from those of their peers. As a group, these students represented a microcosm of views and opinions, not just because of their different religious backgrounds (Muslim, Christian, and Druze), but also because of their exposure to multiple influences: tradition in their communities and villages and modernity in the surrounding Israeli society, all while being part of a political minority. Notably, these women are part of an increasing number of female students attending college, a trend that is occurring in the Palestinian territories as well.3 These students are also exposed to wider regional influences, as “old” and “new” media provide a window to the Middle East and beyond. Extensive media coverage permitted the students to closely follow the events in the region and to identify with women’s collective fight for lasting economic, social, and political rights. The students shared the hopethat followed the departure of Tunisia’s Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali, Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak, and Libya’s Muammar Gaddafi, even while they were aware of the challenges that lay ahead. Although these young women operate in a secular environment at work, it is clear that deep-seated patriarchal customs are very much alive and that the threat of a return to shari‘a law in neighboring countries could affect their own situation if radicalizing trends percolate into the more traditional sectors of Arab society in Israel. The students expressed that, in Israel, the artful juggling of modernity and tradition affords them, at least on the surface, “the best of both worlds.” Many of the students expressed the hope that modernizing trends and influences from Israeli society will attenuate attempts at radicalization, turning their situation as Arab women in Israel into a unique, and even positive, experience. During the debates in class we also analyzed the changes occurring in the region and their effect on women in the various countries affected by the Arab Spring. Different socio- economic conditions, varying degrees of social cohesion, and the uneven pace of political evolution in the countries in question all impacted women’s inclusion in the political process.4 When I asked the students why they did not consider participating more actively

3. This is an important development in the region as young women leave home for the whole semester (or even longer periods of time) and share lodgings in campuses or in the college’s surroundings, defying tradition and male control. The American University in Jenin is one of the most popular institutions for female students from Umm al-Fahm and the surroundings. 4. In a more general debate on the possible worsening of conditions for women after the uprisings, students also referred to the additional difficulties in countries torn by tribal and regional divisions, such as Libya. Although a small, educated elite enjoyed the advantages of Gaddafi’s “state feminism,” (which entailed greater access to education, social benefits, and a more liberal approach to questions of personal status such as marriage, divorce, and child custody), these privileges of the few are today on the balance. 10 Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya in politics, they answered that political participation required greater personal exposure than does their work as engineers, biologists, and computer scientists. They said they were not inclined to engage in politics in Israel, and wished instead to focus on greater integration into the country’s economy.

Walaa’s Dialogue with Inaam Wali

In order to broaden the discussion and help the students connect their experiences to the history of the region, I encouraged the students to engage in an online dialogue with Inaam Wali about her challenging, yet fascinating, experience. Exchanges online between Inaam and Walaa, who commuted to the college from one of the surrounding Druze villages, helped illustrate some of the issues the students had been discussing. These exchanges underscored the similarities and differences in the fight of Middle Eastern women across generations, and shed light on the condition of women under previously secularizing regimes where access to education did not guarantee equality of rights and status.5 Although their gains on the legislative, educational, and professional levels under such regimes cannot be denied, women’s struggles for dignity and respect on the personal level did not make similar progress. For instance, sexual harassment at the hands of men, whether on the street or against women in positions of power, remains endemic throughout the region. Walaa and Inaam’s conversation included suggestions on how the struggle for rights and respect might evolve in societies where democracy is still in the making.6 It also shed light on alternating terms and formulations that define this cross-generational quest for personal dignity, professional accomplishment, and political participation. Although Walaa pragmatically opted for a struggle based on merit, hard work, and competitiveness, as Inaam also did, in her preliminary remarks to me Walaa referred to differences in style, not in substance, in women’s claims for equal opportunities in various fields and professional arenas. She also suggested more creative lines of inquiry to examine less-covered topics. These included: 1. Female Performers as Promoters of Women’s Rights and Modernity. In the exchanges in class that followed Walaa’s remarks, the students expressed interest in Inaam Wali’s unique experience as a top performer whose struggles for the right of self-expression could parallel their own, even if the nature of their challenges was different. The students’ efforts to acquire a profession while competing with male colleagues (Jewish and Arab) in a democratic society were not essentially different from Inaam’s struggle as an actress

5. For first-rate historical surveys on the consequences of modernization on women’s status see Nikkie R. Keddie and Beth Baron, eds., Women in Middle Eastern History: Shifting Boundaries in Sex and Gender (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991) and Nikkie R. Keddie, Women in the Middle East: Past and Present (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2007). 6. Inaam Wali’s life story also illustrates the evolution of Iraq’s National Theatre and the transition from Western cultural influences to more popular and local themes. For more see Kamran Scot Aghaie, ed., The Women of Karbala: Ritual Performance and Symbolic Discourses in Modern Shi‘i Islam (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2005). Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya 11 fighting for respect and acknowledgment in an oppressive environment, yet one that was secular and modernizing in form.7 With Inaam’s experience in mind, the students compared her struggle to that of other female performers in the region, and saw that performance, in the general opinion of male-dominated societies, was perceived as “too public” an endeavor for women. Comparisons with Umm Kulthum and Fairuz, two legendary female performers who personified the political struggle against Western political and cultural domination, shed additional light on the topic. In the case of these two women, their nationalistic and modernizing messages transformed them into cultural and political icons whose images came to symbolize their respective nations.8 2. Female Performers and Cultural Exile. A further comparison between Inaam Wali’s professional obstacles in Germany and the struggle of a young Arab actress in Israel, Clara Khoury, led to exchanges between the students on how a woman’s “cultural exile” can impact her political role as a promoter of change. This topic, which is increasing in importance with the growth of displaced persons in the region, is explored in the movie Persepolis, which we viewed and discussed in class. The students saw the main character evolve into a rebellious woman who defied Iran’s ayatollahs. Tunisia’s decision to ban the film from airing on television prompted consideration of whether Tunisia’s new Islamist government would prevent Tunisian women from preserving their long-standing political achievements.9 3. Female Scientists. The Real Promoters of Change? Following the discussion of the impact of performers and of art in general on shaping societies, the students reassessed their own roles as promoters of change and considered the different expectations of male and female scientists. In conversations that took place after class, students explained to me that Arab women were expected to forgo a demanding research career, even if they were more talented than their male colleagues, in order to attend to family obligations. Additionally, Arab female scientists in Israel are discouraged by the further difficulties they encounter in the professional market following graduation. The taboo against women acting as “game changers” in their more traditional society also discourages them from confronting inequality and induces them to accept the reality they live in, which often deleteriously affects their professional choices and opportunities. 4. Role Models, Cultural Authenticity, and Participation in Politics. Other questions raised in class concerned possible role models for the next generations. Names of female leaders, artists, and performers who could inspire emerging generations in the region included Nayla al-Khaja, a filmmaker from Abu Dhabi; Dr. Amira Edan, the director of the

7. Any attempt to provide the full context for Inaam Wali’s personal story should reexamine the evolution of women’s struggles in Iraq from the early stages of state feminism in the 1960s and 1970s, the search for modernization during the 1980s, and Saddam’s return to religion and tribal politics after the 1991 Gulf War. 8. Umm Kulthum introduced colloquial poetry in the 1940s and 1950s as a reaction to Western-inspired songs, and Fairuz was a symbol of nationalist steadfastness during the 1975–90 civil war in Lebanon. For more on the connection between nationalism and women’s images see Beth Baron, “Nationalist Iconography: Egypt as Woman,” in Rethinking Nationalism in the Arab Middle East, eds. James Jankowski and Israel Gershoni, (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997). 9. Asma Ghribi, “Trial of Nabil Karoui, Owner of Nessma TV for Broadcasting Persepolis Last October,” Tunisia Live, Jan. 22, 2012. 12 Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya

National Museum of Iraq; and Tawakkul Karman, the “mother of the revolution” in Yemen.10 The students also discussed women who played leading roles in the uprisings and their aftermath, including Hoda Badran, of the Alliance for Arab Women, and Mouna Dridi, the expert on constitutional law at the University of Tunis.11

What Could Happen Next?

In the next stages of our discussion, we read an article entitled “Women, Revolution, Politics and Power,” by Dr. Dalal al-Bizri, a Lebanese sociologist.12 Al-Bizri argues that the blurring lines between the “traditionally religious” and the “urban, modern, non-religious blocs” could help Arab women in their fight against marginalization after the uprisings, particularly by helping them find new forms of political participation distinct from Western models.13 In her article, al-Bizri examines new strategies to circumvent Islamists’ conservative policies against women, and emphasizes the need to push for the inclusion of women’s causes in the agendas of liberal parties, which have relegated women’s issues to the back burner. For example, al-Bizri discusses the reasons why reforms should impact women of all walks of life, not just the educated elite.14 She claims that such strategies could help women gain access to political power and budgetary resources. The students also discussed what might happen next in countries like Egypt and Tunisia, where Islamists have risen to power, and considered the applicability of the strategies suggested by al-Bizri. They found that calls for reform by Egyptian women such as Dr. Nihad Abu al-Komsan (the former chair of the Council for Women established by the Supreme Military Council), Shahira Amin (the former deputy head of the state-owned Nile TV channel), and Fatma Khafagy (a founding member of the People’s Socialist Alliance), were comparable to al-Bizri’s strategies. Further, an assessment of their activities refutes the argument that women’s struggles for political rights in the Middle East are no more than the parroting of Western models. Nonetheless, the struggle for equal political participation is far from over. To highlight the continuing nature of the fight, the students compared the role and influence of female members of parliament in Tunisia, Egypt, and Libya. The differences were apparent in the rates of women’s participation: while women make up only 2 percent of Egypt’s lower house of parliament, Libyan and Tunisian women hold 16.5 percent and 22.5 percent, respectively,

10. A leading figure in the pro-democracy demonstrations in Yemen against ‘Ali Abdullah Saleh’s autocratic regime, Tawakkul Karman, the 2012 Nobel Peace Prize winner, arose as a champion for women in the region. 11. Other NGOs such as the restructured National Council for Women and The October 24 Front formed to defend women’s rights in the unfolding constitutional process in Tunisia. 12. Dalal al-Bizri, “Women, Revolution, Politics and Power,” available online at Heinrich Boll Siftung, Dec. 16, 2011. 13. In the article al-Bizri identifies three main factors that affected women’s position in the “post revolution” political process: the new “democratic culture,” the nature and role of political Islam, and gender representation in the new media. 14. The students raised some of these themes even before reading the article, which indicates al-Bizri’s perceptive analysis. Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya 13 of the seats in their countries’ parliaments. Though these statistics are telling, they do not by themselves reveal the experiences and influence of female parliamentarians.15 To illustrate that point, I discussed with the students the political position of women in Iraq, whose participation in parliament is guaranteed through a quota system that allots them 25 percent of the seats. I also explained that the measure by itself did not ensure women’s evolution or influence as lawmakers. For that to happen, female Iraqi members of parliament would have to develop a strong power base, greater leverage within their own parties, and more independence from their party leaders. By forging new tactics to achieve these objectives, female Iraqi lawmakers are emerging as a political force. As a result either of their refusal to focus only on “women’s issues” (women’s rights, education, and health) or their ability to overcome sectarian divisions, Iraqi women are holding important ministerial positions (such as public works, refugees, and communications) and are pushing for reform on “hard core” issues too, such as administrative rearrangements and a fairer distribution of revenues.16 The students and I also considered what the future may hold for the Gulf states, where women are well represented in the business, journalism, banking, health, and administration sectors. Unlike the women we examined in other countries, women in the Gulf states often advance professionally on their own merits, rather than acting solely as representatives of their prominent, wealthy families.17 Rafia Obaid Ghubash, the former president of the Arabian Gulf University, an activist for female education, and the creator of the new Women’s Museum of the United Arab Emirates, served as an example of the possibilities for female professionals and advocates in the Gulf. In contrast, we considered the position of women in conservative countries such as Saudi Arabia,18 Pakistan, and Afghanistan, where groups like al-Qaeda and the Taliban continue their violent attacks against women. The assault on Malala Yousufzai, the young Pakistani activist for girls’ education, served as a recent example.

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15. Habib Bourguiba’s progressive laws (on the educational, professional, and personal levels) preserved by Ben Ali are now a thing of the past. 16. Some developments are not totally new: Iraqi women pioneered reforms and served as facilitators of change immediately after the U.S. invasion, legitimated the electoral process in 2004, and opened the way for women’s full participation in the 2005 elections. 17. Prominent Kuwaiti women referred to in class include: Sheikha Dr. Rasha al-Sabah, the former undersecretary of the Ministry of Higher Education and advisor in the Diwan of His Highness the Prime Minister; Prof. Fayza al-Khorafi, the first Arab woman to be appointed as rector of an Arab university (Kuwait University) in 1993; and, Dr. Modhi al-Hamoud, minister of education and higher studies. Sheikha Mayassa Bint Hamad Bin Khalifa al-Thani from Qatar is a very powerful patron of the arts, and Sheikha Lubna al-Qasimi, the minister of foreign trade for the United Arab Emirates (UAE), is the first woman to hold a ministerial position in the country. 18. The introduction of some reforms by King Abdullah, which will allow women to participate in the 2015 municipal council elections and in debates in the Majlis al-Shura (which serves as an upper house for issues such as education, culture, and foreign affairs) does not represent a victory for Saudi women at large. 14 Liora Lukitz / Sharqiyya

The sweeping discussion described above allowed my students to connect the history of women’s struggles in the Middle East and the current changes taking place in the region to their own experiences, and helped them recognize the historical and geopolitical factors that impact their own struggles now and that will do so in the future. Though our consideration of the need to empower women in all walks of life had taken place inside the classroom, it took more tangible form when I posed my original question: Would the current drive for progress amount to a paradigm shift in which women would waive their traditional roles as influential wives and assume positions of influence and leadership in their societies? Our penetrating debate had left that question largely unanswered. When pressed, some students expressed their belief that women’s current struggles would generate a “shift in emphasis” rather than a “paradigm shift,” which they said stemmed from their desire to avoid open confrontation with fathers and husbands. This attenuated answer reflects the role of tradition as part and parcel of a wider, more complex, amalgamate of identities.19 Although fully aware of their “non-traditional” rights and duties as Israeli citizens, these students will continue to take heed of the events unfolding in the region and the state of Israeli-Palestinian relations that will surely affect their personal and political lives. A final question, even more fundamental to our discussion than the issue of a paradigm shift, brings us closer to understanding the struggles of the women who participated in the debate: Would women and men in the Middle East ever be able to see reform as an advantage to both sides? An answer came from Walaa’s progressive father: “I would not like to see my wife participating in politics, but I want my daughter to have a profession and will do whatever it takes to help her achieve all her goals.” This, perhaps, is also where reform, quietly and slowly, is already sneaking in.

19. Some students referred to the hijab as a sign of individual and collective dignity and as a challenge to the West, not just one of religious devotion. Other students still see the hijab as a constraint imposed on them by society. Women, Islam, and Public Protest before and after the Arab Spring

Moyra Dale1

Throughout the Arab Spring, news reports have highlighted the prominent place of women in the public forum. Photos of women protesting in the streets of Egypt, Tunisia, Yemen, Libya, and Syria have appeared frequently in international media. Indeed, women entered public spaces in unprecedented numbers in many countries. Women not only protested alongside men, but also held their own marches in Benghazi, Cairo, Alexandria, and several towns in Syria. Women such as Asmaa’ Mahfouz in Egypt and Tawakkul Karman in Yemen played instrumental roles in their respective countries’ revolutions by making extensive use of social media to mobilize their fellow citizens and spread information. Though women’s participation in the Arab Spring has indeed been extensive and visible, it is not the first time women in the region have taken part in public protest. However, that is what much of the reporting on the Arab Spring in the West has suggested. Western media depicted women’s involvement in the Arab Spring as a novel phenomenon for the Arab-Muslim world, with the implied or explicit statement that women’s participation in the protests signaled a new role for them in society.2 In fact, the involvement of Muslim women in social movements is not new in the region, nor is it a guarantor of change. Women began to move into public spaces in the decades leading up to the Arab Spring. Most Middle Eastern countries witnessed significant increases in women’s education and employment during that period. Women also participated in politics in growing numbers in the countries affected by the Arab Spring. This growth was most visible in Tunisia, but was also significant in Egypt, Syria, and Libya. Another trend that, until recently, the Western media has paid scant attention to is the expanding role of Muslim women in mosques and religious hermeneutic spaces, places that have traditionally been the province of men.3 These women do not find their primary

1. Moyra Dale has worked in the Middle East as both an educator and ethnographer for many years. Her research has focused on the Middle East and Muslim women. 2. For example, Fatma Naib, “Women of the Revolution,” Al Jazeera, Feb. 19, 2011; Soumaya Ghannoushi, “Rebellion: Smashing Stereotypes of Arab Women,” Al Jazeera, Apr. 25, 2011; AFP, “A Woman’s Touch in the Arab Spring,” Your Middle East, Dec. 25, 2011. 3. A spate of publications and conferences in the last decade has focused on this movement in the Middle East and elsewhere. See Saba Mahmood, “Feminist Theory, Embodiment, and the Docile Agent: Some Reflections on the Egyptian Islamic Revival,” Cultural Anthropology 16, no. 2 (2001), pp. 202–36; Saba Mahmood, “Rehearsed Spontaneity and the Conventionality of Ritual: Disciplines of Salat,” American Ethnologist 28, no. 4 (2001), pp. 827–53; Saba Mahmood, Politics of Piety: The Islamic Revival and the Feminist Subject (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005); Hilary Kalmbach “Social and Religious Change in Damascus: One Case of Female Islamic Religious Authority,” British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies 35, no. 1 (2008), pp. 37– 57; Brigid Maher (director), Veiled Voices, Documentary Film (2009); Maria Jaschok and Shui Jingjun, The History of Women’s Mosques in Chinese Islam (Richmond, UK: Curzon Press, 2000); Pieternella van Doorn- Harder, Women Shaping Islam: Reading the Qur’an in Indonesia (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 2006); Masooda Bano and Hilary Kalmbach, eds., Women, Leadership, and Mosques: Changes in Contemporary Islamic Authority (Leiden: Brill, 2012). 16 Moyra Dale / Sharqiyya inspiration in secular feminism. Rather, they place themselves firmly within the religiously- conservative Islamist tradition; they define and defend their positions with the terms and texts of traditional Islam. Their efforts, which have been termed the women’s mosque movement, aim to redefine the position of women in religious life and form part of the Islamic revival that began in the last decades of the twentieth century. As a result of their increasing levels of education and the proliferation of religious materials available in print and online, women are able to access religious sources and participate in religious debates more easily than ever before. In light of these trends, the growth of open Islamist political activities in the post-Arab Spring Middle East and North Africa is likely to give rise to new forms and manifestations of feminism.

From Mosque to Home

Muslim women have traditionally performed religious duties and rituals in their homes. Beginning about thirty years ago at the time of the Islamic revival, women gave those practices social as well as religious purposes. For example, women would gather together to recite dhikr, mediation on or recitation of the name[s] of God, a practice that Sunni Muslims have traditionally carried out in private. The adoption of communal dhikr, a practice most common among Sufis, allowed Muslim women to worship and, at the same time, to enjoy a religiously-sanctioned opportunity to talk together over a glass of tea or a meal. Women also started to organize “weekly religious lessons – first at their homes and then within mosques – to read the Quran, the Hadith . . . and associated literature.”4 These gatherings have become more formalized and organized over the past several decades. Private homes have also increasingly been used as sites for da‘wa (Islamic call or mission).5 At these gatherings women have taken on leadership roles as preachers and missionaries to carry out da‘wa to women within the faith and beyond. Significantly, they have found passages in the Qur’an to justify their activities. Qur’anic verses such as al-Imran 3:104, 110 and al-Tawbah 9:71 not only promote da‘wa to non-Muslims, but also describe it as part of the duty of every practicing Muslim to urge fellow Muslims to correct Islamic practice.6 This injunction to all believers to be engaged in da‘wa legitimizes the involvement of women.

4. Hadith are traditions of the words and actions of Muhammad and of his companions. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, p. 3. 5. From du‘a meaning “to call” or “to invite.” In religious terms da‘wa is “the invitation, addressed to men (sic) by God and the prophets, to believe in the true religion, Islam (Qur’an 14:46).” It determined the Muslim community’s relationship to non-Muslims: “Those to whom the da‘wa had not yet penetrated had to be invited to embrace Islam before fighting could take place.” M. Canard, “Da’wa,” Encyclopedia of Islam (Leiden: Brill, 1965), pp. 168–70. Quotes from the Qur’an come from Abdullah Yusuf Ali (trans.), The Qur’an: Text, Translation & Commentary (Lahore: Shaikh Muhammad Ashraf, 1937). The contemporary piety movement relates da‘wa not only to non-Muslims, but also to the duty of every practicing Muslim to urge fellow Muslims to correct Islamic practice. 6. Al-Imran 3:104: “Let there arise out of you a band of people inviting (da‘wa) to all that is good, enjoining what is right, and forbidding what is wrong: they are the ones to attain felicity.” Al-Imran 3:110: “Ye are the best of peoples, evolved for mankind, enjoining what is right, forbidding what is wrong, and believing in Allah.” Al-Tawbah 9:71: “The Believers, men and women, are protectors of one another: they enjoin what is just, and forbid what is evil: they observe regular prayers, practise regular charity, and obey Allah and His apostle.” Moyra Dale / Sharqiyya 17

Bringing religious observance from the mosque into the home in this way allowed women to assume more prominent positions within religious practices. At the same time, it encouraged women to conform their lives and dress to Islamic norms. In the 1980s and 1990s, at a time when women were taking on new religious roles, the wearing of hijab (head-covering for Muslim women) became more prevalent, and the term mutadayyinaat (religious women) gained currency.7 With their progressive activities validated textually, female da‘iyyaat (pl. female preachers/missionaries) tended to maintain their place in a traditional society by adopting conservative dress and behavior.8 Saba Mahmood, in her study of the Islamic women’s mosque movement, notes:

In many ways the figure of the da‘iya [preacher/missionary] exemplifies the ethos of the contemporary Islamic Revival, and people now often ascribe to this figure the same degree of authority previously reserved for religious scholars.9

From Home to Mosque

Through their positions as da‘iyyaat and in their application of Qur’anic and hadith precepts to women’s daily lives and needs, Muslim women are opening up new places for women within their communities. For example, Sheikha Ghina Hammoud, a divorced mother, runs a female Islamic center in Beirut where she teaches and organizes charity work to benefit women. Both Hammoud and her students describe the significance of having a teacher who can speak with personal knowledge about the issues with which women deal, including matters of personal purity and strategies for structuring relationships with less devout family members.10 By studying the Qur’an and hadith from women’s perspectives and relating them to women’s experiences, these teachers validate women’s knowledge and opinions.11 Female religious teachers tacitly challenge the prevailing view, based on hadith, that women lack in brains and piety.12 Thus, they are raising the standing of women in the religious

7. Leila Ahmed, Women and Gender in Islam (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992), pp. 221–22; Margot Badran, Feminism in Islam: Secular and Religious Convergences (Oxford: Oneworld, 2009), p. 8. 8. Kalmbach, “Social and Religious Change.” Also Jaschok and Jingjun, The History of Women’s Mosques, pp. 234–35. 9. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, p. 58. 10. Maher, Veiled Voices. 11. Dorothy E. Smith, Writing the Social: Critique, Theory and Investigations (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1999). 12. Sahih al-Bukhari, Book 6, Hadith 301: “Narrated Abu Said Al-Khudri: Once Allah’s Apostle went out to the Musalla (to offer the prayer) of ‘Id-al-Adha or Al-Fitr prayer. Then he passed by the women and said, ‘O women! Give alms, as I have seen that the majority of the dwellers of Hell-fire were you (women).’ They asked, ‘Why is it so, O Allah’s Apostle?’ He replied, ‘You curse frequently and are ungrateful to your husbands. I have not seen anyone more deficient in intelligence and religion than you. A cautious sensible man could be led astray by some of you.’ The women asked, ‘O Allah’s Apostle! What is deficient in our intelligence and religion?’ He said, ‘Is not the evidence of two women equal to the witness of one man?’ They replied in the affirmative. He said, ‘This is the deficiency in her intelligence. Isn’t it true that a woman can neither pray nor fast during her menses?’ The women replied in the affirmative. He said, ‘This is the deficiency in her religion.’” Also al-Bukhari, Book 24, Hadith 541. Hadith can be found at http://searchtruth.com. In his commentary on Yusuf 12:47, Muslim scholar ‘Abdallah ibn ‘Umar al-Baidawi (died 1286?), notes “‘Dotage’ is deficiency of intellect arising from old age. Consequently, one does not talk about a ‘doting old woman’ because deficiency 18 Moyra Dale / Sharqiyya community and challenging patriarchal interpretations of faith and history from within, thereby creating room for women’s presence and leadership in Islamic life. Though women are often only allowed to instruct all-female classes, that restriction is being challenged as well. For example, Mahmood describes how a female teacher in Cairo defended her right to lead women in prayer at the mosque even when a man was present by referencing the differing positions among Islamic jurists on the issue.13 Female da‘iyyaat are also using television to reach beyond the confines of gendered spaces in mosques and private homes.14 Social restrictions, however, have prevented these women from challenging traditions of male leadership in such a public forum. They have therefore not yet assumed the standing of Muslim women in the West, like Amina Wadud, who have been able to give the Friday khutba (sermon) and lead mixed prayer gatherings.15 Nevertheless, in their teachings Muslim women in the Middle East cite precedents from the hadith and Muslim history that validate such practices,16 and are establishing themselves within a wider stream of scholars engaged in promoting female scholarship and interpretations of the Qur’an and hadith.17 The adoption of communal dhikr, which, as noted above, allowed women to gather in the home for religiously-sanctioned social purposes, has also been an important part of women’s ability to assume more prominent roles in the mosque and other religious centers. While Mahmood makes no mention of dhikr in her descriptions of women in Cairene mosques, elsewhere dhikr has been incorporated as a necessary adjunct to ‘ilm (knowledge) in worship and teaching.18 The da‘iyya in a Syrian mosque I visited explained that dhikr was essential preparation for her teaching sessions. She described the recitation of dhikr as “the spiritual preparation [that] gives us concentration so we don’t miss half the lecture.”19 This da‘iyya also described dhikr as an important part of individual piety: “People take account of

of intellect is an essential characteristic of a woman.” Al-Zamakhshari (Muslim scholar, 1074 or 1075–1143 or 1144) agrees: “A woman even when young is not endowed with wits, so her wits cannot be said to ‘fail’ in old age.” Quoted in A.F.L. Beeston, Baidawi’s Commentary on Surah 12 of the Qur’an: Text, Accompanied by an Interpretative Rendering and Notes (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1963), pp. 47–48, 73. 13. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, pp. 86–91. Huda al-Habash in Syria follows the same practice. Maher, Veiled Voices. 14. Gina Hammoud and Souad Saleh. Maher, Veiled Voices. 15. Amina Wadud, Inside the Gender Jihad: Women’s Reform in Islam (Oxford: Oneworld, 2006). 16. Maher, Veiled Voices; Kalmbach, “Social and Religious Change in Damascus.” 17. Fatima Mernissi, “The Veil and the Male Elite: A Feminist Interpretation of Women’s Rights in Islam,” trans. Mary Jo Lakeland, in Liberal Islam: A Sourcebook, ed. Charles Kurzman, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), pp. 112–26; Amina Wadud, “Qur’an and Woman,” in Liberal Islam, op. cit.; Amina Wadud, Qur’an and Woman: Rereading the Sacred Text from a Woman’s Perspective (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999). al-Ma’thurat) is a collection of adhkar (pl. of dhikr) and ad‘iya (pl. of du‘a) from the Qur’an) املأثورات ,From Egypt .18 and hadith compiled into a wird (litany) by Hasan al-Banna (1906–1949), founder of the Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt. Use of wird in morning and evening devotional practice is deeply embedded across the Muslim world in orthodox Islam, including among those with no connection to Sufi orders. Constance Padwick, Muslim Devotions: A Study of Prayer-Manuals in Common Use (Oxford: Oneworld, 1961), p. xii. 19. Shannon comments that in Aleppo, “Many participants . . . understand dhikr to be an orthodox Sunni practice, and not something associated primarily with Sufism.” Jonathon H. Shannon, “The Aesthetics of Spiritual Practice and the Creation of Moral and Musical Subjectivities in Aleppo, Syria,” Ethnology 43, no. 4 (2004), p. 381. Moyra Dale / Sharqiyya 19 themselves and ask forgiveness for sins – so someone who does dhikr regularly will be less likely to sin.”20 The connection between “the training and realization of a pious self”21 and the wider political and social community, encapsulated in communal dhikr, is an essential part of the women’s mosque movement and the Islamic revival. In part this is because here the subject of the self is not the individual self of Western society, but rather a relational or porous understanding of self-within-community.22 In this light, it becomes possible to understand how the evolving women’s movement in the mosques of the Middle East and North Africa, while focused on religious practice and personal piety, can transform women’s roles in the politics and societies of the region.

Historical Legacy of Women’s Social Activism in the Middle East

The presence of women in public protest and reform is not new in the Middle East or in Islam. Women have played significant roles in revolution and social change from the earliest years of Islam. The Sahibaat (female companions) of Muhammad who went with him into battle are celebrated figures. Particularly popular are the stories of Nusaybah bint Ka‘ba, who fought alongside Muhammad in the Battle of Uhud, and Sumayyah bint Khayyat, the first martyr, male or female, in the fledgling Muslim community. Muhammad’s beloved wife ‘Aisha (of whom he said, “take half of your religion from this [woman]”) led Muslim forces on her camel into battle against ‘Ali, the fourth Caliph. In the early twentieth century, Egyptian women were actively involved in the resistance against the British occupation. Women participated in anti-British street marches alongside men and established dispensaries, clinics, nursery schools, and charitable associations not only for women but also for boys and men. Organizations such as the Intellectual Association of Egyptian Women, established in 1914 by Huda Shaarawi (1879-1947) and Mai Ziyada (1886-1941), mobilized women as an important force in politics and society. Shaarawi, upon her return in 1923 from a women’s conference in Europe, put her beliefs on public display when she dramatically unveiled herself at the train station in Cairo. Women continued to be active in politics and protest in the following decades, especially after World War II. Like their predecessors, mid-century activists saw themselves as part of both the Egyptian nationalist movement and the worldwide campaign for female suffrage.23 In 1951, women’s rights activist Doria Shafik (1908-75) led 1,000 women on a march into the Egyptian Parliament, disrupting its session, and called on the lawmakers to hear the demands of Egyptian women. Three years later, Shafik and several other women staged a

20. Interview. 21. Mahmood, Politics of Piety, pp. 51, 126. 22. Saud Joseph, ed., Intimate Selving in Arab Families: Gender, Self and Identity (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1999). 23. Similarly, Sojourner Truth (1797–1883) in the United States lobbied for both emancipation and suffrage. 20 Moyra Dale / Sharqiyya hunger strike. Together, the demonstration in parliament and the hunger strike impelled the Egyptian government to grant women the right to vote in 1956. While women such as Shafik and Shaarawi adopted a secular form of feminism and framed their activities in terms of political rights and national liberation, other Egyptian women sought to address women’s issues within an Islamic framework. In the early twentieth century, Egyptian writer and reformer Malak Hifni Nasif (1886-1918) set aside Western values and constructs of feminism and instead advocated women’s rights to worship in mosques and to be educated in all fields of study. Such steps, she argued, would allow women to contribute to the Islamic ummah (nation or community). In the following decades, Zainab al-Ghazali (1918-2005) took up the banner of Islamic feminism. As a young woman, al-Ghazali was a member of Shaarawi’s Intellectual Association of Egyptian Women. However, she took issue with the association’s secular orientation, claiming instead that Islam provided ample guarantees of women’s rights, and left the group. In explaining her path, al-Ghazali recalled the two possible female role models (the first secular, the second religious) that her father, a religious scholar, would present to her: “‘Whom do you chose? Do you choose Huda al-Shaarawi, or will you become Nusaybah (bint Ka‘ba)?’” In separating herself from Shaarawi’s secular organization and advancing Islamic feminism, al-Ghazali made clear that she had chosen Nusaybah, just as she had told her father she would.24 In 1936, al-Ghazali founded the Muslim Women’s Association as an alternative to Shaarawi’s organization. Like its secular counterpart, the association was active socially—it offered lessons for women, published a magazine, maintained an orphanage, and offered assistance to poor families and mediation in family disputes. But unlike the Intellectual Association of Egyptian Women, the Muslim Women’s Association developed a religious political program, including a platform calling for Egypt to be ruled by the Qur’an. Al-Ghazali was a staunch and vocal advocate of the program. She gave weekly lectures to large crowds of women at the Ibn Tulun Mosque and aligned herself with the Muslim Brotherhood. Al-Ghazali herself had taken an oath of loyalty to the Brotherhood’s founder, Hasan al-Banna, and played a significant part in helping the Muslim Brotherhood regroup in the early 1960s after al-Banna’s assassination. As a result of her alliance with the Muslim Brotherhood, al-Ghazali was imprisoned and tortured for five years.

After the Revolution . . .

History includes many more examples of women who have worked to improve society and women’s places within it by adopting both secular and Islamic forms of social action. Women’s efforts and their roles in bringing about change, however, have not won them equal rights or full involvement in political and religious life. Given that record, what can women hope to achieve in their participation in the Arab Spring?

24. Cited in Lamia Rustum Shehadeh, The Idea of Women in Fundamentalist Islam (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003), p. 122. Moyra Dale / Sharqiyya 21

In order to begin to answer that question, it is important to look at the direction in which the post-Arab Spring Middle Eastern societies are moving. The face of the new Middle East is more religious than secular. Therefore, the emerging picture of women in these changing societies is not likely to reflect the secular, democratic vision imagined in the West. But just because women’s involvement in the Arab Spring protests cannot be seen as an indication that women will move into the roles they occupy in Western-style democracies, an examination of the da‘iyya and women’s mosque movements reveals how women have already been taking up new places in Islamist contexts.25 Given the increased religious conservatism of the new Middle East, Islamist women may find themselves best placed to shape women’s positions within the gendered socio-religious boundaries of their own societies.

25. Perhaps in a manner similar to women renegotiating their space in the post-revolution conservatism of the Islamic Republic of Iran. See Ziba Mir-Hosseini, “Stretching the Limits: A Feminist Reading of the Shari’a in Post-Khomeini Iran,” in Feminism and Islam: Legal and Literary Perspectives, ed. Mai Yamani (Reading, UK: Ithaca Press, 1996), pp. 285–319. 22 Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya

‘Urfi and Delayed Marriage in Egypt

Shoshi Shmuluvitz1

Hind el-Hinnawi created an uproar in Egypt in 2005 when she sued Ahmed el-Fishawy, a famous actor to whom she was secretly and unofficially married, for divorce and child support. Hinnawi, a 27-year-old costume designer, and Fishawy, 25, met on the set of a movie. Because Fishawy was already married, the two agreed to keep their relationship secret and they never officially registered their marriage contract with the state. When Hinnawi became pregnant and refused to have an abortion,2 Fishawy destroyed their marriage contract, the only other evidence of their union. Hinnawi gave birth, and when Fishawy refused to pay child support, she successfully petitioned the Egyptian court for a DNA test, which proved that he was the father of her child. Hinnawi won the case and Fishawy was ordered to pay child support.3 The case of Hinnawi vs. Fishawy was widely publicized in the Egyptian and international media, not only because of Fishawy’s fame, but also because of the unprecedented way in which Hinnawi handled her situation. Unregistered, secret ‘urfi (customary law) marriages are not uncommon in Egypt, even when the husband is already married. However, most upper- and middle-class, educated, and financially independent women like Hinnawi who become pregnant from an ‘urfi marriage hide their pregnancies and have abortions and hymen reconstruction surgery in order to remain marriageable. But in refusing to have an abortion and instead suing her husband in a high-profile case, Hinnawi made her ‘urfi marriage as public as it could be. In fact, the case established a legal precedent for ordering paternity tests in cases of secret ‘urfiwives suing for child support.4 The Hinnawi-Fishawy case was not merely a scandal; it became part of a discussion about the state of marriage in Egypt. Issues surrounding ‘urfi marriage are among the most divisive matters of personal status in Egypt. ‘Urfi marriages are often seen as challenging the gender roles enshrined in Islam, as well as traditional notions of what marriage means to a couple and their families. Perhaps most of all, ‘urfi marriages are a source of anxiety for many in Egyptian society because they occupy an ambiguous legal and social space over which parents and the state have little or no control. The problem of ‘urfi marriage is compounded by the increasing prevalence of delayed marriage, which has created what many in Egypt deem a marriage crisis. More women, especially from the middle and upper classes, are waiting to marry until after they earn

1. Shoshi Shmuluvitz is a masters student of Middle Eastern History at Tel Aviv University (TAU). She produces Diwaniyya, the official audio podcast of the Moshe Dayan Center, andthe Rihla Podcast for the Master of Arts in Middle Eastern Studies program at TAU. 2. According to the Pew Forum, “The Egyptian Penal Code of 1937 bans abortion in all circumstances, but criminal law allows flexibility on grounds of ‘necessity.’ Physicians rely on that principle to justify performing an abortion when they believe the mother’s life or health is in danger or in cases of fetal abnormality.” Pew Forum, “Abortion Laws Around the World,” Sept. 30, 2008. 3. Neil MacFarquhar, “Paternity Suit Against TV Star Scandalizes Egyptians,” The New York Times, Jan. 26, 2005. 4. MacFarquhar, “Paternity Suit.” Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya 23 university degrees, while many men delay marriage because of financial instability in a poor economy. For the same reasons, wives increasingly provide large portions of the household income, and in some cases they support their husbands entirely. This reversal of gender roles has been a source of anxiety for many Egyptians, as it challenges traditional notions about masculinity and femininity, as well as the rights and obligations of husband and wife that are central to the precepts of marriage in Islam.5 ‘Urfi marriages are widely portrayed as the worst manifestation of Egypt’s marriage crisis because in informal marriages the gender role reversal is considered to be at its most extreme. ‘Urfihusbands are viewed as emasculated and fiscally irresponsible, and‘urfi wives are seen as excessively independent and even promiscuous. Religious authorities have pointed out that many ‘urfi marriages do not adhere to (Sunni) Muslim law because they often go unwitnessed and because they proceed without the permission of the woman’s guardian (usually her father).6 Others maintain that informal unions are detrimental to women because they frequently go completely undocumented or because husbands hold the only copy of the marriage contract, leaving women with little legal recourse to divorce, alimony, or child support.7 Indeed, many husbands have simply denied their secret, undocumented ‘urfi marriages in order to avoid financially supporting their ‘urfi wives and children.8 Consequently, both religious Muslims and secular feminists criticize informal marriages for those reasons. At the same time, many Egyptian Muslims from across the political and religious spectrums endorse ‘urfi marriage as a religiously-sanctioned way to have a sexual relationship before, or concurrently with, a formal marriage. For the devout, ‘urfi marriage prevents people (young men in particular) from committing zina (fornication) or adultery, which are serious shari‘a crimes.9 ‘Urfi supporters who are less religious and more socially liberal see this form of marriage simply as a way for single people to have romantic relationships before marrying formally.10 ‘Urfi has become popular among university students who want a romantic relationship with a partner whom their parents deem unsuitable and among young people who cannot afford to marry formally or who want a “trial period” before formally marrying their ‘urfi partner. In this way, ‘urfi marriages allow Egyptians to carry out legitimate sexual relationships without the full commitment of formal marriage. These relationships are also less “traditional” in the sense that the families of the ‘urfi husband and wife are rarely, if ever, involved in the marriage.11

5. Nadia Sonneveld, “Rethinking the Difference Between Formal and Informal Marriages in Egypt,” in Family Law in Islam, ed. Maaike Voorhoev (London: I.B. Taurus, 2012). 6. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages.” 7. Since the personal status law of 2000, ‘urfi couples have been allowed to obtain divorces if they have documentation. However, the court may still refuse to hear any other cases related to ‘urfi marriage. See Essam Fawzy, “Muslim Personal Status Law in Egypt: The Current Situation and Possibilities of Reform through Internal Initiatives,” in Women’s Rights and Islamic Family Law: Perspectives on Reform, ed. Lynn Welchman (London: Zed Books, 2004), pp. 42–43. 8. Hanan Kholoussy, For Better, For Worse: The Marriage Crisis That Made Modern Egypt (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2010), p. 45. 9. Nadia Abu-Zahra, “Adultery and Fornication,” in Encyclopedia of the Qur’an, ed. Jane Dammen McAuliff (Leiden: Brill, 2001–2006). 10. MacFarquhar, “Paternity Suit.” 11. MacFarquhar, “Paternity Suit”; Jeffrey Fleishman, “In Egypt, Not Wed to Custom,” Los Angeles Times, Nov. 7, 2007; Daniel Williams, “Letter from the Middle East: Between Matrimony and Something Else,” The New 24 Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya

The Marriage Contract

In arranging a formal Islamic marriage, families must determine the partners’ suitability, make financial arrangements, and, in some cases, negotiate additional stipulations to the standard marriage contract. According to the Islamic principle of kafa’a (suitability), the potential bride and groom should have compatible lineage (for example, descent from the Prophet Muhammad or his tribe), financial standing, and religious beliefs. In the twentieth century, kafa’a came to refer primarily to a man’s finances.12 A Muslim husband was expected to both pay the mahr (money and gifts given to the bride)13 and to support his wife financially.14 The Islamic marriage contract sets out the rights and obligations of husband and wife.15 In addition to his pecuniary obligations, a husband is obliged to treat his wife well. If a woman is accustomed to a high standard of living, her husband must hire domestic servants. If a man has more than one wife, he must provide each one with a separate home and must treat them all equally.16 A wife is obliged to reside with her husband, to move with him if he relocates or travels (unless a court finds good reason for her not to), and to be obedient to him.17 “Obedience,” in this case, mainly involves a wife’s presence in the marital home and requires a wife to ask her husband for permission to travel and work outside the house. If a wife fails to be obedient, her husband may obtain a court ruling of nushuz (wifely disobedience or recalcitrance), which nullifies his obligation to financially support his disobedient wife.18 Islamic law—and many Egyptian Muslims—also sanction a light to moderate beating in the case of nushuz.19

York Times, Nov. 4, 2007. 12. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” p. 80. 13. Before signing a marriage contract, the groom and the bride’s male guardian must agree on the amount of money and gifts (usually jewelry) the groom will give to the bride as mahr. The mahr is paid in two installments: the first, smaller payment at the time the marriage contract is signed, and the second in the case of divorce. The mahr is solely the wife’s property and she can use it as she sees fit. Before marrying, a husband must also show that he can provide and furnish an adequate home in a suitable location not too distant from the woman’s family. See O. Spies, “Mahr,” in Encyclopedia of Islam 2nd edition, ed. P. Bearman, et al. (Leiden: Brill, 2000). 14. A husband should support his wife according to an acceptable standard of living, which is determined by averaging the husband’s current economic status and the standard of living his wife was accustomed to in her father’s house. See Kholoussy, For Better, For Worse, p. 32. 15. Marriage and divorce laws vary according to the juristic school of Islam. Egyptian personal status law is based mostly on Hanafi jurisprudence but also incorporates some doctrines from other schools. 16. Islam allows a man to have up to four wives provided he can support them all and treat them equally. 17. Lynn Welchman, Women and Muslim Family Laws in Arab States: A Comparative Overview of Textual Development and Advocacy (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2007), p. 89. 18. Welchman, Women and Muslim Family Laws, pp. 97–98. 19. A survey of married Egyptian women in 2000 found that 86.4 percent agreed that a husband was justified in striking his disobedient wife. See Nawal H. Ammar, “In the Shadow of the Pyramids: Domestic Violence in Egypt,” International Review of Victimology 7, no. 1-3 (2000), pp. 29–46; Kecia Ali, “Religious Practice: Obedience and Disobedience in Islamic Discourses,” Encyclopedia of Women and Islamic Cultures, ed. Suad Joseph, (Leiden: Brill, 2007). Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya 25

The First Egyptian Marriage Crisis

The phenomenon of delayed marriage is not new in Egypt. A spate of social, economic, and political changes in the early twentieth century engendered new marriage practices, particularly among the emerging middle and upper classes of urbanites. The resulting “marriage crisis” raised questions about traditional gender norms and the political and economic fate of the nation. While an economic boom in the first years of the century had generated high expectations for the mahr (money and gifts given to the bride), an economic downturn in 1907 made payment of these inflated mahrs unfeasible, particularly for middle-class bachelors, which forced young people to put off marriage. Many Egyptians perceived a trend of delayed marriage, and contemporary writers and reformers interpreted it as a threat to the moral fabric of the nation. Anxieties surrounding the marriage crisis were focused particularly on middle class bachelors whose financial inability or disinclination to marry was seen as unmanly. A population of emasculated men represented a potential social disaster for Egypt at a time when the nation sought genuine independence from the British. Educated women who refused to be confined to the domestic sphere were viewed alternately as overly sexual or castrating and shrewish and were also blamed for the marriage crisis.20 At the same time, Egyptian reformers advocated the ideal of companionate marriage based on mutual affection.21 According to Baron, many middle-class writers “criticized the emphasis placed on the financial considerations of marriage” and “a shift in focus from the economic to the emotional compatibility of a couple.”22 In contrast to traditional marriages, unions based on affection made it necessary to allow couples to meet before the wedding—something unheard of in the early twentieth century among the middle and upper classes who practiced female seclusion.23 Family and legal customs also promoted raising the marriage age, particularly for girls. Parents had traditionally married off their children at young ages to prevent them from having pre-marital sex or to force an advantageous match. While marriage ages remained very young in rural areas, modern medicine and psychology led the urban middle and upper classes to view early marriage and pregnancy as detrimental to girls, who endured dangerous, sometimes fatal, deliveries and often suffered psychological trauma. The idea that people should marry at older ages (i.e., between the ages of twenty and thirty) reflected the shift toward companionate marriage and the belief that truly compatible spouses should be close in age, education, and socio-economic background.24

20. Kholoussy, For Better, For Worse. 21. Beth Baron, “The Making and Breaking of Marital Bonds in Modern Egypt,” in Women in Middle Eastern History: Shifting Boundaries in Sex and Gender, ed. Nikki Keddie and Beth Baron, (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991), p. 277. 22. Baron, “Marital Bonds in Egypt,” pp. 279–80. 23. Kholoussy, For Better, For Worse, pp. 52–53. 24. Kholoussy, For Better, For Worse, pp. 280–81. Setting the ideal marriage age at 20-30 was part of an ongoing trend. According to the 1907 census, the vast majority of women got married between the ages of 20 and 29. However, this statistic does not account for the ‘urfi marriages of underage girls. See Ali, “Religious Practice,” pp. 281–82. 26 Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya

Because religious authorities could find no basis in Islamic law for raising the legal age of marriage, the Egyptian government enacted laws to discourage child marriage rather than outlaw it altogether. The 1923 Egyptian Code of Organization and Procedure for Shari‘a Courts required that all marriages be registered in order to make legal claims; prevented the courts from hearing claims of marriage if the bride was under sixteen and the groom under eighteen; and prohibited officials from registering a marriage contract if the bride and groom had not reached those ages. It should be noted that the secular court still refuses to hear claims of undocumented ‘urfimarriage except in the case of divorce.25 Law 87 on the organization of the shari‘a courts (a 1931 amendment to the 1920 Personal Status Law) required that all marriages be registered with the state, and caused the marriage contract to become a “fill-in-the-blanks” form listing only minimal information, such as name, date, age, place of residence, parents’ names, and size of the mahr. There was no space in this document for any extra stipulations, except the option to give the wife the right to divorce.26 Before this law, many marriages went unregistered (though they were documented), and this was not considered subversive in any way. Technically, an ‘urfi marriage is just one that is not registered with the state. Not only did Law 87 help create the designation of ‘urfi marriage as we know it today, it also provided the type of simplistic, pared-down contract that is used, sometimes erroneously, by ‘urfi couples. ‘Urfi marriage is stigmatized not only because of the set of social problems it is thought to engender—divorce, unwanted pregnancy, family discord, promiscuity, etc.—but also because it is dubious under the law.

Delayed and ‘Urfi Marriage Today

While the legitimacy of ‘urfi marriage is hotly debated, after a sixty-year gap lamentations of delayed marriage have re-emerged in popular discourse.27 As of 2009, more than 9 percent of Egyptian women were not married by the age of 34; 57 percent of men in urban areas were not married by the age of 29; and 22 percent of men were not married by the age of 34.28 The fact that Egyptians are marrying at later ages, though not very much later than a century ago, is a source of perturbation in the country. Marriage remains crucial to the lives of most Egyptians: it is strongly encouraged in Islam29 and it “is the only acceptable context

25. An Egyptian law passed in 2000 allows the court to hear claims of judicial divorce when there is no marriage document and one party denies the marriage took place. See Welchman, Women and Muslim Family Laws in Arab States, p. 57. 26. According to Islamic law, only the husband can initiate divorce unless the marriage contract stipulates that the wife has the right to divorce her husband. This right has been claimed mostly by wealthy women. See Zulficar, “Islamic Marriage Contract,” pp. 234–35. 27. See for example Ghada Abdel Aal, I Want to Get Married!, trans. Nora Eltahawy (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2010). Despite research into the period between the 1930s and the 1990s, it appears that there was not much discourse on the “marriage crisis,” during this time. 28. Ragui Assad and Ghada Barsoum, “Rising Expectations and Diminishing Opportunities for Egypt’s Young,” in Generation in Waiting: The Unfulfilled Promise of Young People in the Middle East,ed. Navtej Dhillon and Tarik Yousef (Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 2009), p. 81. 29. For example, in hadith, “When a man marries, he has fulfilled half of the religion, so let him fear Allah in the remaining half.” Al-Tirmidhi 3096, narrated by Anas ibn Malik. Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya 27 for sexual activity and parenthood and provides the primary framework for the expression of masculinity and femininity and the fulfillment of gender roles.”30 Marriage is an important rite of passage from youth to adulthood in Egypt and throughout the Middle East, as most people live with their parents until they marry. According to Azza Korayem, a sociologist with the National Center for Social and Criminal Studies in Cairo, “[t]hose who don’t get married, whether they are men or women, become sort of isolated.”31 Delayed marriage excludes young Egyptians from full participation in society and can lower social status. This is especially true for unmarried women, who are viewed as a threat to married women.32 A major contributor to delayed marriage is the lack of economic opportunity. Economic conditions have lengthened the time it takes for young people to become financially stable enough to marry, particularly because many have come to expect a higher standard of living.33 The rising cost of housing has meant that young, city-dwelling Egyptians who increasingly aspire to live outside their parents’ home immediately after getting married are forced to delay marriage. Additionally, the wedding celebration serves as a public display of wealth for the families of the bride and groom, and is thus a very costly affair. As of 2007, marriage costs were estimated at four and a half times the per capita gross national product and eleven times annual household expenditures.34 In these conditions, ‘urfi marriage presents an appealing way around the exorbitant cost of formal marriage because it spares a couple the cost of a lavish ceremony, a house, furniture, and trousseau. But while the common perception of ‘urfi marriage is that it occurs between young people who cannot afford a formal marriage or who wish to thwart their parents’ authority, many Egyptians conclude ‘urfi marriages for different reasons as well. Many divorced women choose to become secret second wives in order to raise their social status. Well-off divorcées may conclude an ‘urfi marriage with a lower-class man and support him financially, thus raising the status of both husband and wife.35 Divorced women also choose ‘urfi marriage to maintain custody of their children. The state can grant custody to the father if the mother remarries, but has no power to do so if the marriage is unregistered. Some single women and widows choose ‘urfi marriages so they can continue to receive the state pensions of their deceased husbands or fathers, which would terminate upon formal marriage or remarriage.36 Although there is a very clear legal distinction between formal and ‘urfi marriages, the social distinctions are blurred. For example, in both ‘urfi and formal marriages wives are increasingly older and from a higher class than their husbands, yet Egyptians perceive this practice as more characteristic of ‘urfi marriage, perhaps because it defies notions of kafa’a (suitability) and subverts gender norms (and, for this reason, conforms to the perception of

30. Homa Hoodfar, Between Marriage and the Market (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997), p. 52. 31. Michael Slackman, “Stifled, Egypt’s Young Turn to Islamic Fervor,” The New York Times, Feb. 17, 2008. 32. Assad and Barsoum, “Rising Expectations,” p. 81. 33. Assad and Barsoum, “Rising Expectations”; Hoodfar, Between Marriage, p. 54. 34. Diane Singerman, “The Economic Imperatives of Marriage: Emerging Practices and Identities Among Youth in the Middle East,” The Middle East Youth Initiative Working Paper 6, Wolfensohn Center for Development, Dubai School of Government, Sept. 2007, p. 5. 35. Second wives and ‘urfi wives have a higher status than spinsters and divorcées. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” p. 87. 36. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” pp. 83–84. 28 Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya

‘urfi marriage as morally questionable). In fact, the trend of older, wealthier women formally marrying younger, lower-class men increased from 2 percent of all official marriages in the 1960s to more than 25 percent in the 1990s. Furthermore, women reporting an equal share in the (formal) marriage costs increased from 4 percent in the 1960s to 25 percent in the 1990s, and marriages in which the wife contributed more than the husband increased from 6 percent in the 1960s to 15 percent in the 1990s.37 Thus, while this challenge to gender norms, kafa’a, and the husband’s qiwama (authority) is popularly viewed as a feature of ‘urfi marriage, it has in fact become increasingly common among formal marriages as well.

Conclusion

The current discourse on ‘urfi and delayed marriage carries echoes of the discourse on the marriage crisis of the early twentieth century. The same sectors of society are blamed—the financially unstable wayward bachelors, the over-sexed gender-role-reversing single women with careers, and the selfish spoiled wives. Many Egyptians—today, as in the early twentieth century—blame the high financial demands of brides and their families for‘urfi marriage and delayed formal marriage. And the (false) perception that females of marriageable age greatly outnumber men has served as an explanation for late marriage both in the early twentieth century and today.38 What the current discourse on ‘urfi and delayed marriage reveals is that traditional gender norms remain, for the most part, intact. Masculinity is still defined by the ability to financially support one’s family, while “a woman who earns a [higher] salary [is] perceived as either masculine or castrating.”39 But while gender ideals have remained the same, practices have shifted dramatically. As the number of women in Egypt’s workforce increases and their career prospects expand, many wives are providing larger portions of the family income. In some cases wives are even the primary breadwinner. While this occurs in both ‘urfi and formal marriages, the public perception is that it is more common in ‘urfi unions, perhaps because husband and wife often do not share a home.40 The phenomenon of the wife as breadwinner raises an important question: If a husband does not financially support his wife, is she still required to obey him? (One is even tempted to ask if, in this case, he is required to obey her.) Despite their expanding financial contributions, Egyptian wives still need their husbands’ permission to travel, and husbands are still able to petition the court for obedience injunctions against them. In an Al Jazeera TV interview on misyar marriage,41 the famous cleric Yusuf al-Qaradawi said that a husband’s qiwama

37. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” pp. 86–87. 38. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” p. 86. 39. Fatima Mernissi, Beyond the Veil: Male-Female Dynamics in Modern Muslim Society (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1987), p. 171. 40. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” p. 80. 41. Misyar marriage is a type of marriage, usually ‘urfi, in which a traveler takes a spouse from among the local population. The marriage is often temporary, ending in divorce or abandonment. Misyar marriage is widely practiced among wealthy men from the Arab Gulf states traveling on business in Egypt and elsewhere. “Egypt: Fatwa on Misyar Marriage,” Women Living Under Muslim Laws, www.wluml.org/node/5187; Hassan Fakih, Shoshi Shmuluvitz / Sharqiyya 29

(authority) in the marriage is not affected when he does not provide maintenance for his wife. Qaradawi noted that many husbands in formal marriages also failed to meet their financial obligations. It was this point that the host and viewers calling in to the show found most unsettling.42 Perhaps this is because a husband’s financial failure is viewed as a moral failure, which can be expected from an (immoral) secret ‘urfi marriage, but which has no place in the ideal formal marriage. The symptoms and perceptions of the marriage crisis of the early twentieth century— delayed marriage, economic castration of men, gender role reversal—have continued and even intensified in the past decade. Current gender role reversing marriage practices—such as wives contributing more money than their husbands—are often critiqued as aspects of ‘urfi marriage, when in fact they occur frequently in formal marriages. Critiques of ‘urfi marriage today, as well as of the marriage crisis of the early twentieth century, reflect widespread anxieties about shifting gender roles. These moral critiques express concern for the institution of marriage and Egyptian society as a whole, whose structures are based on a set of gender norms in which men provide for women and women obey men. However, as women become more financially independent and gender roles continue to shift, traditional gender ideology must also be renegotiated.

“Misyar Marriage Enrages Gulf Women,” Middle East Online, Apr. 25, 2006; Syed Naez Ahmad, “A Proposal Saudis Can’t Refuse,” The Guardian, Aug. 16, 2009. 42. Sonneveld, “Formal and Informal Marriages,” pp. 96–97. 30 Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya

The European Union’s Response to the Arab Spring and the Limitations of Normative Power

Alexey Khlebnikov1

The Middle East plays a crucial role for the European Union (EU), particularly as globalization has made access to energy and the control of migration top priorities for EU leaders. Oil and gas from the Middle East have provided EU members with easy and stable access to energy resources. With 55 percent of the world’s oil reserves and 45 percent of the gas, the Middle East remains one of the most important regions in the world.2 The Middle East is also one of the most unstable and explosive regions on the globe. The so-called “Arab Spring,” which began in the winter of 2010-11, has changed the balance of power in the Middle East and has accordingly altered the foreign policy of the European Union. Observers and policymakers in many regions of the world struggled to comprehend the causes of the upheavals and to prepare for their consequences. As the Arab Spring continues to reshape the region, EU member states are scrambling to find policy solutions that take account of the new realities while also safeguarding their interests, their access to energy, and their ability to regulate the flow of people into Europe. The aim of this article is to examine how the Arab Spring has influenced EU foreign policy towards the Middle East. It argues that the European Union’s responses to the Arab Spring have revealed the realpolitik character of EU policy and the priority of ensuring secure access to energy resources and control over migration. The EU’s post-Arab Spring policies demonstrate that the European Union is driven by the rational, pragmatic interests of its core states. The article also seeks to demonstrate the contradictions in the Europian Union’s new policy with regard to the principles and goals that are part of the EU Common Foreign and Security Policy.

The European Union as a Normative Power

The European Union is widely recognized as a new type of international actor, representing a new paradigm in international politics. Accordingly, it is important to consider the extent to which the foreign policy adopted by the EU coincides with existing patterns and principles of international relations. For example, in a 2005 article, Thomas Diez posed several pertinent questions regarding the consistency of EU policy: “Are there double standards in the application of norms in EU policies towards other parties? Do different EU actors (e.g., the European Commission, Parliament, and Council, as well as different actors within these

1. Alexey Khlebnikov is a doctoral candidate in the International Relations department at Lobachevsky State University of Nizhni Novgorod and a masters in public policy candidate in the Hubert H. Humphrey School of Public Affairs at the University of Minnesota. His research focuses on contemporary Middle Eastern politics (mainly the Levant and Egypt) and the role of the major powers in the region. 2. U.S. Energy Information Administration, http://www.eia.gov/cfapps/ipdbproject/IEDIndex3.cfm. Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya 31 institutions) pursue different norms and interests? And is there an increasing militarization of EU external relations?”3 To answer these questions, it is important to consider the two dimensions of EU foreign policy, normative and realpolitik, and to acknowledge the marked preponderance of the normative dimension. The European Union is best described as a normative power, one that does not rely on military force, “but one in which norms in themselves achieve what otherwise is done by military arsenals or economic incentives.”4 This can be seen in Article 3 of the Lisbon Treaty on European Union, which reads: “In its relations with the wider world, the Union shall uphold and promote its values and interests and contribute to the protection of its citizens.”5 Its commitment to the diffusion of norms in world politics has made it difficult to describe the EU’s international role in terms of the traditional concepts of civilian and military power. So too have the EU’s reactions to the significant changes taking place in its southern neighborhood and in the Middle East, which have inspired a number of pressing questions about EU policy. Before examining those questions, it is first necessary to discuss the nature of EU policy. According to Article 21, section 2, of the Lisbon Treaty, the European Union defines and implements a Common Foreign and Security Policy (CFSP), the objectives of which include: • Safeguard its values, fundamental interests, security, independence, and integrity; • Consolidate and support democracy, the rule of law, human rights, and the principles of international law; • Preserve peace, prevent conflicts, and strengthen international security in accordance with the purposes and principles of the United Nations Charter, with the principles of the Helsinki Final Act, and with the aims of the Charter of Paris, including those relating to external borders; • Promote an international system based on stronger multilateral cooperation and good global governance.6 The instruments through which the European Union implements the CFSP also highlight the reliance on normative power: • Euro-Mediterranean Partnership (EMP). Formerly known as the Barcelona Process, the EMP was re-launched in 2008 as the Union for the Mediterranean (UfM). The EMP is designed to strengthen bilateral and multilateral relations between the European Union and the Mediterranean countries, and to foster economic as well as political reform in the latter. • European Neighborhood Policy (ENP). The foremost aim of the ENP is to consolidate a stable and secure neighborhood for the European Union and to complement the

3. Thomas Diez, “Constructing the Self and Changing Others: Reconsidering ‘Normative Power Europe’,” Journal of International Studies 33, no. 3 (2005), p. 616. 4. Diez, Constructing the Self, p. 614. 5. The Treaty of Lisbon, Title I, Article 3, section 5, http://eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ/LexUriServ.do?uri=OJ: C:2008:115:0013:0045:EN:PDF. Emphasis added. 6. The Treaty of Lisbon, Title V, Article 21, section 2, http://eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ/LexUriServ.do?uri=O J:C:2008:115:0013:0045:EN:PDF. 32 Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya

EMP in promoting political and economic reform, particularly in the eastern and southern neighborhoods of the European Union. • European Instrument for Democracy and Human Rights (EIDHR). In contrast to the EMP and the ENP, the EIDHR was set up specifically to foster democracy and human rights. It deals with civil society directly, and does not require the agreement of the host government.7

The Arab Spring and EU Policy in the Middle East

Before the Arab uprisings, EU policy in the Middle East was defined for the most part by the EMP and the ENP. It was based on the belief that it was better to deal with autocratic regimes and keep them under control in order to maintain peace and stability in the region. Several of the recently-toppled regimes—those in Tunisia, Libya, and Egypt—were EU partners and received extensive funding from the EU for economic development. In addition to supplying developmental aid, the European Union promoted the rule of law, democratization, and the protection of human rights in the Middle East, policies in line with traditional EU norms and values. The rulers of those ancien régimes cooperated closely with the EU in the areas of migration control, energy supply, trade, and counterterrorism.8 For the most part, the European Union maintained cooperative relationships with such friendly, corrupt rulers because they had preserved security in the region for decades. European leaders feared that radical Islamists were the only alternative to the autocrats, a fear stoked, to some extent, by the autocrats themselves. The Arab Spring, beginning with Tunisia’s Jasmine Revolution in late December 2010, made it unexpectedly necessary for the European Union to revise those long-standing policies. Even though some Western leaders asserted that the events of the Arab Spring were ushering in an era of necessary and inevitable change in the region and should have been predictable, many were candidly surprised by the abrupt change to the status quo.9 For example, in remarks to the Council on Foreign Relations in September 2011, Alain Juppé, former French foreign minister, said, “the Arab Spring took us by surprise. We watched people rise up against oppression and understood that the stability was in fact an illusion.”10 A Freedom House report on the Arab upheavals also emphasized the unpredictability of these eruptions, and suggested that many Western leaders had likely believed that such uprisings would and could not occur.11

7. Daniela Huber, “Democracy Assistance in the Middle East and North Africa: A Comparison of U.S. and EU Policies,” Mediterranean Politics 13, no. 1 (2008), pp. 43–62. 8. Behzad Yaghmaian, “Out of Africa: EU Immigration Policy and the North African Uprising,” Foreign Affairs, May 11, 2011. 9. Elliott Abrams, a former official in the George W. Bush administration, wrote, the “Arab Spring is . . . not a peculiarity of history, but a natural outcome for regimes that had quite simply become illegitimate in the eyes of their subjects.” Elliott Abrams, “A Forward Strategy of Freedom,” Foreign Policy, Jan. 23, 2012. 10. “The Arab Spring: A Conversation with Alain Juppé,” Council on Foreign Relations, Sep. 19, 2011. 11. “Popular Protest in North Africa and the Middle East (I): Egypt Victorious?” International Crisis Group, Middle East/North Africa Report N°101, Feb. 24, 2011. Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya 33

Indeed, the stability and sustainability of the autocratic Middle Eastern regimes were widely taken for granted, even after the uprisings of the Arab Spring began. For example, just a few days before Tunisian President Zine el-Abidine Ben Ali fled his country, French Foreign Minister Michèle Alliot-Marie offered advice to help Tunisian authorities manage the riots.12 One month later, shortly before the “day of rage” that sparked the Libyan revolution, European officials were “placidly” discussing cooperation on migration and border controls with former Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi in Brussels.13 Indeed, the most awkward problem for Europe was that years of cooperation with autocratic regimes throughout the region left it lacking credibility in the midst of popular calls for democracy. The European Union therefore faced the difficult task of transforming its longstanding policies in order to show meaningful solidarity with the democratic aspirations of the people in the region while also safeguarding its interests.14 The fall of one EU-supported dictator after another represented a significant failure of EU policy. It also meant that European leaders had to quickly devise a new policy to dictate EU relations with the region’s new regimes. The approach of securing the EU’s strategic neighborhood by controlling the Middle East’s ruling elites was no longer an option. Further, the European Union now faces the challenge of how to deal with a new emerging power— Islamists—and the need to do so in a way that protects EU interests.

The Arab Spring and EU Policy in the Middle East: Energy

For a more complete understanding of EU policy in the midst of the Arab Spring, it is also necessary to examine the challenges the European Union is facing in North Africa, sometimes described as Europe’s southern neighborhood, particularly the energy challenge and the migration challenge. With regard to the former, in 2007 the European Union recognized that growing demand, volatile prices, and occasional interruptions to supply meant that it needed to guarantee the security of its energy supply. Consequently, a major goal for the EU in the Middle East has been ensuring access to oil. The European Neighborhood Policy (ENP) has been directed towards the Middle East’s resource-rich countries, and the EU has consistently emphasized the importance of oil and gas in its relationship with Libya, Algeria, Egypt, and Morocco.15 EU member states have substantial (though differentiated) dependence on Middle Eastern oil and gas. In 2010, approximately 13 percent of the European Union’s total crude oil imports came from its southern neighbors, of which 10.71 percent came from Libya.16 Italy,

12. Kim Willsher, “France Rocked by News of Aid to Tunisia and Egypt,” Los Angeles Times, Feb. 5, 2011. 13. “European Foreign Policy Scorecard 2012,” European Council on Foreign Relations, Jan. 2012, http://www. ecfr.eu/page/-/ECFR_SCORECARD_2012_WEB.pdf. 14. Ibid. 15. “External Action and Energy Policy,” European Union External Action, accessed Mar. 2013, http://eeas.europa. eu/energy/index_en.htm. 16. “Registration of Crude Oil Imports and Deliveries in the European Union (EU27) from January to March 2011,” in “Monthly and Cumulated Crude Oil Imports (Volumes and Prices) by EU and non EU Country,” European Commission, http://ec.europa.eu/energy/observatory/oil/import_export_en.htm. 34 Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya

France, and Spain relied on Libya for 22 percent, 16 percent, and 13 percent of their crude consumption, respectively, an amount that could not be replaced easily or on short notice.17 As a result, the European Union’s relations with those countries are dominated by its energy policy, and the EU sees the Middle East as a top foreign policy priority.18 The importance of Libyan oil to European countries helps explain why the European Union’s actions during the Arab Spring did not align with the traditional normative dimension of EU foreign policy and how they represent a change from the policies that for years were used to deal with the autocratic regimes of the Middle East. When the controversial and ambiguous United Nations Security Council Resolution 1973 paved the way for a NATO-led military intervention in Libya, France, Italy, and Spain supplied troops for the operation.19 Not coincidentally, the energy companies (mostly owned by the governments) of those states— Eni (Italy), Total SA (France), and Repsol SA (Spain)—held large contracts for oil production in Libya, the fate of which was tied to the outcome of the civil war.20 During the military operation, therefore, France, Italy, and Spain each made a deal with the Libyan National Transitional Council. In exchange for military assistance, these European powers secured and expanded their contracts in Libya, and promises were made to recover the oil that had been lost during the disruptions to the Libyan supply.21 That was a good reason not only for France, Italy, and Spain to be actively involved in toppling Gaddafi, but also for five other EU member states (the United Kingdom, the Netherlands, Sweden, Belgium, and Denmark).

The Arab Spring and EU Policy in the Middle East: Migration

The issue of migration has also played an important role in EU decisionmaking during the Arab Spring. Migration from the Middle East into the European Union has been a subject of intense political debate in Europe and is a strategic priority for European policymakers. Managing population movement and demographic change are central objectives of the Euro- Mediterranean Partnership and the Global Approach to Migration and Mobility.22 In the past decade, European countries have extended their own border control systems through additional agreements with North African leaders. In 2003, Spain signed an agreement with Morocco, which pledged full cooperation in migration control in return for $390 million in aid.23 Beginning in the late 1990s, former Tunisian President Zine el-

17. Andrés Cala, “Europe Rethinks Dependence on Libyan Oil,” The Christian Science Monitor, Feb. 23, 2011. 18. Sven Biscop, Rosa Balfour, and Michael Emerson, eds., An Arab Springboard for EU Foreign Policy? Egmont Paper 54 (Brussels: Egmont – Royal Institute for International Relations, Centre for European Policy Studies, and the European Policy Centre, 2012), p. 35. 19. Simon Rogers, “NATO Operations in Libya: Data Journalism Breaks Down which Country Does What,” The Guardian, Oct. 31, 2011. 20. Vladislav Senkovich, “The Toppling of Gaddafi and Prospects of Foreign Energy Companies in Libya,” Russian International Affairs Council, Sept. 14, 2011. 21. Vladislav Senkovich, “Is There an Alternative to the Western Patronage of Libya?” Russian International Affairs Council, Feb. 7, 2012. 22. “The Global Approach to Migration and Mobility,” European Commission, Nov. 18, 2011. 23. Ivan Briscoe, “Dreaming of Spain?: Migration and Morocco,” open Democracy, May 26, 2004. Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya 35

Abidine Ben Ali helped crack down on the transit of migrants through Tunisia in exchange for economic cooperation and preferential trade rights.24 Cooperation between Italy and Libya was particularly extensive. In 2004, Gaddafi signed an agreement with Italy promising to prevent sub-Saharan African migrants from using Libya as a country of transit. In return, Italy successfully pressured the European Union to lift the economic sanctions and arms embargo that had been imposed on Libya for nearly twenty years, which allowed Italy to supply Libya with the high-tech equipment needed to control migration.25 In 2008, Gaddafi signed a friendship pact with Italy whereby he agreed to prevent African migrants from leaving Libyan shores for Italy and to readmit those arrested in the Mediterranean Sea. Italy compensated Gaddafi for his cooperation with $5 billion worth of investments in Libya and six patrol boats to police the waterways between Africa and Europe.26 The Arab uprisings and hostilities in North Africa brought both an end to this relatively effective migration policy and a huge number of people from North and Central Africa into Europe. The influx was perceived both as a humanitarian crisis and as a substantial threat to European unity. It caused chaos in and among several EU member states and threatened to cause a breakdown in the Schengen System (the principles that govern the area of free movement currently involving twenty-five European countries, based on the abolition of permanent border controls at “internal” European borders, and the distribution of responsibilities for the control of common external borders).27 Though the immediate aftermath of the Arab uprisings has been a headache for the European Union, migration from North Africa is not Europe’s primary concern. For many years prior to the Arab Spring, the European Union enjoyed the steadfast cooperation of North African leaders in maintaining secure borders. The possibility that the unpatrolled borders in North Africa that have come in the wake of the revolutions may bring a mass exodus of sub-Saharan Africans to Europe is what European leaders fear much more.

The Arab Spring and the Limitations of EU Normative Power

In all the North African states that experienced a revolution, Islamist parties have gained power. Al-Nahda received the majority in the Tunisian parliament; the Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood, represented by the Freedom and Justice Party, took 47 percent of seats in parliament, hand in hand with Salafis from the al-Nour party (around 20 percent); and the al-Islah party in Yemen and Islamists in Libya have initiated campaigns for shari‘a-based law.28 Despite their apprehension regarding political Islam, European leaders have begun to engage these new rulers. The fear of Islamists taking power in neighboring states is still very

24. Yaghmaian, “Out of Africa.” 25. Biscop, et. al., An Arab Springboard? 26. Biscop, et. al., An Arab Springboard? 27. Yves Pascouau, “Schengen and Solidarity: The Fragile Balance between Mutual Trust and Mistrust,” European Policy Center, Jul. 2012. 28. “Islamists to the Fore,” The Economist, Oct. 29, 2011; Marc Lynch, ed., “Islamists in a Changing Middle East,” Foreign Policy and Project on Middle East Political Science, 2012. 36 Alexey Khlebnikov / Sharqiyya much alive in the EU, even in cases when Islamist leaders purport to follow the “Turkish model.” Thus far, the European Union has reinforced its commitment to democracy and economic assistance in approaching the Middle East’s new rulers, as doing so in the past enabled it to wield considerable leverage in the region. The decision of certain EU members to take a more aggressive approach to the Middle East in the wake of the Arab Spring in order to maintain their access to the region’s energy resources and their ability to control migration reflects the limitations of the EU’s normative power and the importance of realpolitik considerations. Though it guaranteed access to Libyan oil by intervening in the country, doing so raised potentially more serious issues for the European Union. Moreover, the different policies adopted by individual European states to deal with the Arab Spring have demonstrated that strategic, economic, and security issues are of foremost importance at the national interest level, but not necessarily at the supranational level. The Arab Spring has therefore revealed the fragmented nature of the European Union and that the common norms, values, and principles promoted by the EU as part of the Common Foreign and Security Policy are not, in fact, completely adhered to by all members. It is a risky endeavor to defend the normative character of European power when every state must adapt to certain circumstances and threats and when some do so in ways that undermine supposedly shared core principles. Pressing economic and security issues often take precedence over normative policies when a state makes decisions that it feels are necessary to ensure its own survival. In this case, the essential meaning of normative power in international relations falls on unstable ground. Our world may never become a place of commonly shared values if the European Union fails to pursue the principles its foreign policy explicitly seeks to promote.