Middle Eastern Diasporas and Political Communication: New Approaches (Routledge Studies on Middle Eastern Diasporas) [1 ed.] 103243029X, 9781032430294, 9781003365419

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“This is an important book that fills a gap in the literature about the role of communication in facilitating diasporas’ political participation in their countries of origin, host societies, and global politics. The book provides insightful analysis of the way diaspora communities use media to build transnational connections, based on fresh data collected among diaspora groups in Europe and the USA. The well-​rounded analysis in each chapter heightens the book’s relevance and contribution.” Noha Mellor, Professor of Media, University of Sharjah, UAE “This book is a must-​read for those interested in the relationship between the Middle East, diaspora communities, and media post-​2011. Its insightful analysis, drawn from media content analysis and interviews, fills a critical gap in our understanding of these complex relationships. The thought-​provoking case studies shed light on media’s impact on shaping and strengthening connections between communities, particularly diaspora communities based in Western countries. The comprehensive insights into the utilization of digital media for political action and collective mobilization make this book a valuable and necessary contribution to the discourse on the Middle East and its diaspora communities.” Tourya Guaaybess, Professor of Information and Communication Sciences, European University Centre, Université de Lorraine, CREM

Middle Eastern Diasporas and Political Communication

This edited book explores the development and reconfiguration of Middle Eastern diasporic communities in the West in the context of increased political turmoil, civil war, new authoritarianism, and severe constraints on media in the Middle East. Taking an interdisciplinary approach, incorporating political and intercultural communication, the contributors investigate the rationale for diasporic politics, as well as the role of the transnational media in shaping diasporic political mobilization. This analysis of the media, situated within specific case studies, encompassing Afghani, Armenian, Bahraini, Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, Tunisian, and Turkish diasporic communities, reveals the variegated ways it influences diasporic politics and facilitates political action, as well as its influence on democratic actors residing in the Middle East. These new insights into Middle Eastern diasporas, political communication, and political mobilization are based on developments in the Middle East since 2011, and ultimately highlight how diaspora groups in the West relate to the situation in the Middle East, particularly in their countries of origin. The book is important reading for students and researchers working in political/​intercultural communication and diasporic politics, as well as those with a general interest in the Middle East. Ehab Galal is an associate professor at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. He is the project leader of “Mediatized Diaspora: Contentious Politics among Arab Media Users in Europe.” His research focuses on Arab media, Islamic television, regime-​critical media, media and migration, Arab media audiences, and mediatized diaspora. Mostafa Shehata is Lecturer of Media and Digital Communication in the Faculty of Mass Communication, Menoufia University, Egypt, as well as associate researcher at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. He holds a PhD from Roskilde University in Denmark. His research focus is on political communication, intercultural communication, social movement, migration, and the Middle East.

Claus Valling Pedersen is an associate professor in Persian at the Department of Cross-​Cultural and Regional Studies, University of Copenhagen, Denmark. His main research interest is in modern literature from Iran, spanning the period from about 1900 until today, and most of his publications are about literature. He has also completed research on contemporary Iranian history, society, and religion.

Routledge Studies on Middle Eastern Diasporas

Arab-​American Aesthetics Literature, Material Culture, Film and Theatre Edited by Therí A. Pickens Middle Eastern Diasporas and Political Communication New Approaches Edited by Ehab Galal, Mostafa Shehata, and Claus Valling Pedersen

For more information about this series, please visit: www.routle​dge.com/​middle​east​stud​ies/​ser​ies/​ RSO​MED

Middle Eastern Diasporas and Political Communication New Approaches Edited by Ehab Galal, Mostafa Shehata, and Claus Valling Pedersen

First published 2024 by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Ehab Galal, Mostafa Shehata and Claus Valling Pedersen; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Ehab Galal, Mostafa Shehata and Claus Valling Pedersen to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-​in-​Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Galal, Ehab, editor. | Shehata, Mostafa, editor. | Pedersen, Claus V., 1959– editor. Title: Middle Eastern diasporas and political communication : new approaches / edited by Ehab Galal, Mostafa Shehata, and Claus Valling Pedersen. Description: Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2024. | Series: Routledge studies on Middle Eastern diasporas | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Identifiers: LCCN 2023007153 (print) | LCCN 2023007154 (ebook) | ISBN 9781032430294 (hardback) | ISBN 9781032430300 (paperback) | ISBN 9781003365419 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Middle Easterners–Western countries–Political activity. | Middle East–Emigration and immigration. | Middle East–Foreign public opinion, Western. | Middle East–In mass media. | Communication in politics. Classification: LCC JV8739 .M535 2024 (print) | LCC JV8739 (ebook) | DDC 305.892/701821–dc23/eng/20230531 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023007153 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023007154 ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​43029-​4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​032-​43030-​0 (pbk) ISBN: 978-​1-​003-​36541-​9 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/​9781003365419 Typeset in Times New Roman by Newgen Publishing UK

Contents

List of figures List of tables List of contributors 1 Mobilizing and mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas

xi xii xiii 1

E H AB G AL AL A N D MO STA FA SH EH ATA

2 Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe: From online campaigning to friendship networks

13

MOSTAFA SH EH ATA A N D EH A B G A LA L

3 The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support for Syrian Armenians: The case of Kessab

34

OH AN N E S G EU K JI A N

4 Beirut from the ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to the August 4 explosion in 2020: Transnational solidarity, social media and affective communities

51

MARI A M. RIJO LO PES DA C U N H A

5 The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication to counter mis/​disinformation about Syria

67

J OS E P H A WE S SELS

6 Arab social media news in Sweden: Site of information or site of struggle? MAH I TAB E Z Z EL D I N

86

x  Contents

7 Digital diaspora: The case of Farkhunda and Afghan women’s resistance

107

K ARE N WALT O R P A N D SA MA SA DAT BEN H ADDOU

8 Whom do the diaspora members interact with when there are elections in the ‘homeland’?

125

DA Ğ H AN I RAK

9 Making an impact: The role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark

144

T H OMAS B RA N D T FI BI G ER

10 Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile: Examining advocacy strategies in diaspora journalists’ online news

161

RANA ARAFAT

Index

182

Figures

2.1 2 .2 7.1 7.2 8.1 8.2

The dimensions of diasporic politics and how media intersects with them Aspects of diasporic political communication Asma M. Safi with smartphone in hand Visualization by Karen Waltorp with the aid of Yani Kartalis, SAMF Data Lab Social network map of interactions by the sample group of Turkish-​speaking diasporas in France Social network map of user-​keyword interactions by the sample group of Turkish-​speaking diasporas in France

18 21 112 119 132 136

Tables

2.1 Distribution of sample by gender and country (of origin and residence) 5.1 Differences and similarities in themes between the webinar series 6.1 Alkompis interactivity 6.2 Sweden Today interactivity 8.1 Main clusters revealed by the social network analysis 10.1 Diaspora journalism’s content-​related advocacy strategies

19 78 92 93 133 168

Contributors

Rana Arafat is a lecturer in Digital Journalism in the Department of Journalism in City, University of London. Her research agenda focuses on examining activist/​advocacy journalism, conflict reporting, digital media use and political participation, as well as journalism innovations. Sama Sadat Ben Haddou is General Secretary of Mino Danmark. She is the co-​founder and former president of the charity organization TakeMyHand and has been active and highly engaged with youth engagement among minority ethnic youth in Denmark. Mahitab Ezz El Din is an assistant professor in the Department of Media and Journalism (MJ) at Linnaeus University, Sweden. She received her PhD in Media and Communication studies from Örebro University, Sweden. Her research interest focuses on media and democracy, media and society, media and migration/​integration, as well as media and conflict. Thomas Brandt Fibiger is an associate professor in Arabic and Islamic Studies, Aarhus University. His PhD in Anthropology (2010) is based on ethnographic fieldwork in Bahrain, and he has more recently worked with Kuwait and Dubai, in particular focusing on Shia Muslims, including migrants. Ehab Galal is an associate professor at the University of Copenhagen. He is the project leader of “Mediatized Diaspora: Contentious Politics among Arab Media Users in Europe.” His research focuses on Arab media, Islamic television, regime-​critical media, media and migration, Arab media audiences, and mediatized diaspora. Ohannes Geukjian is an associate professor of Comparative Politics and Conflict Resolution in the Department of Political Studies and Public Administration at the American University of Beirut. His research focuses on ethnicity and nationalism, conflict management, peace building and Middle East politics. His recent publication is The Russian Military Intervention in Syria (Queen’s University Press, 2022).

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xiv  Contributors Dağhan Irak is a senior lecturer in Media and Communication at the University of Huddersfield. His research interests are popular culture and politics, political communication, and media use of diaspora communities. His most recent book, Football Fandom, Protest and Democracy, was published by Routledge in 2019. Claus Valling Pedersen is an associate professor in Persian in the Department of Cross-​Cultural and Regional Studies, University of Copenhagen. His main research interest is in modern literature from Iran, spanning the period from about year 1900 until today, and most of his publications are about literature. He has also completed research on contemporary Iranian history, society, and religion. Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha holds a PhD in Ethnomusicology from SOAS University of London and a postdoctoral fellowship at the University of Copenhagen. She was the lead editor of an anthology titled Music and Cultural Diplomacy in the Middle East: Geopolitical Re-​Configurations for the 21st Century (Palgrave Macmillan, 2023). Mostafa Shehata is a lecturer of Media and Digital Communication in the Faculty of Mass Communication, Menoufia University, Egypt, as well as associate researcher at the University of Copenhagen, Denmark. He holds a PhD from Roskilde University in Denmark. His research focus is on political communication, intercultural communication, social movement, migration, and the Middle East. Karen Waltorp is an associate professor of Anthropology, University of Copenhagen. She is the author of Why Muslim Women and Smartphones (2020), and co-​editor of Energy Futures (2022) and An Anthropology of Technologies and Futures (2023). Waltorp serves on the Editorial Board of Cultural Anthropology and Visual Anthropology and convenes the European Association of Social Anthropologists Future Anthropologies Network. Josepha Wessels is an associate professor in Media and Communication Studies at the School of Arts and Communication (K3) at Malmö University. Between 1997 and 2002, she lived in Aleppo, Syria. In 2019, she published a landmark book entitled Documenting Syria with IB Tauris/​Bloomsbury UK.

1 Mobilizing and mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas Ehab Galal and Mostafa Shehata

Introduction The last decade has marked the emergence of Middle Eastern immigrants as new and important diasporic communities similar to other long-​established diasporas (e.g., Jews, Africans, and Romanians). The political instability and economic deterioration in the region have created mass emigration; millions of citizens fled their countries, leaving behind troubled situations in the wake of mass political protests and mobilizations. Middle Eastern countries have struggled with coming to terms with continuous demands for political transformation since the momentum of public protests in 2010—​2011. Starting in Tunisia in December 2010, the so-​called Arab Spring has been known by its wave of public mass protests in Egypt, Libya, Yemen, Syria, and Bahrain, and to a lesser extent in other countries in the region. The momentum was followed by relatively free elections and democratic progress in some countries and a display of state military power in others; since then, most progress has been replaced by new authoritarianism and the acceleration of political and economic oppression. The democratically elected Muslim Brotherhood president in Egypt, Mohamed Morsi, was removed in 2013, after a brief stint of power, and Egypt returned to military rule, led by General Abdel Fattah El-​Sisi. In Bahrain, the regime quickly crushed the uprising, while Libya, Yemen, and Syria remained in chaos. Other countries in the region also faced significant political movements in the same period such as the 2009 Iranian Green Movement, the 2013 Turkish Gezi Park protests followed by a coup d’état attempt in 2016, and the continuing Kurdish, Palestinian, and Polisario struggles for independence. There were many Iranian towns that experienced continuous waves of demonstrations, and, in Turkey, new repressive laws were passed to stabilize the regime after the attempted coup d’état. The Arab uprisings reemerged in countries such as Sudan, Algeria, Lebanon, and Iraq. In Sudan and Algeria, there were several waves of demonstrations, culminating in the ouster of the two countries’ regimes in 2019, followed by agreements between civil and military powers about the installation of new leaders. Lebanon as well as Iraq have seen political and economic chaos. The protesters succeeded in overthrowing the government in Lebanon, but not the DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-1

2  Ehab Galal and Mostafa Shehata sectarian-​based political system, which was the goal of the protesters. New backlashes occurred with coups in Sudan and Tunisia in 2021, and large-​scale demonstrations took place in Iran in 2022, leaving the countries in a politi­ cally unstable situation. While Tunisia was seen as the positive exception after 2011, the 2021 coup tells the story of a region’s ongoing struggle for political transformation—​including continuous public protests—​that is up against strong headwinds. The Middle Eastern peoples are largely silenced by surveillance, censorship, and imprisonment. While digital media at an earlier stage were seen as a tool for free speech, these have now also become an instrument for the regime to use not only to police and control the flow of information, but also to control activists inside as well as outside the Middle East (Budka & Bräuchler, 2020; Jones, 2013; Moss, 2018). The increasing authoritarianism and policing of media, at the same time, is an element in ongoing regional-​political conflicts. That was the case, for example, when Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, the United Arab Emirates, and Egypt together condemned and boycotted Qatar from June 2017 to January 2021. The four countries accused Qatar of condoning the television channel Al-​Jazeera’s critique of the four regimes (Galal, 2021b). Also, the presence of regime-​critical Egyptian media in Istanbul has been a thorn in the side of the Egyptian regime and has become an element in the conflict between the Turkish and Egyptian regimes since 2013 that put an end to almost all diplomatic collaboration between the two countries. This crisis leads back to President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan’s denunciation of the military coup in Egypt in 2013, and Turkey’s subsequent welcoming of several regime-​ critical Egyptian television channels. Since 2021, Egypt has put pressure on the Turkish regime to close these channels and to surrender opposition figures who had found refuge in Istanbul (Galal, 2021a; Hassanein, 2021; Mada Masr, 2021). These regional-​political conflicts—​including those between some Arab countries and Israel, on the one hand, and between Iran and the Gulf countries, on the other—​contribute to the continuous unstable political situation in the region. The attempts to control and police political opposition are still a daily concern of the regimes that reaches far beyond the national and regional borders. This is closely connected to the potential mobilization of Middle Eastern diaspora members, many of whom fled their country of origin in the midst of the region’s chaos. The protests in 2010–​2011 played a vital role in mobilizing Middle Eastern people living outside the region; some returned to their land of origin to support the protests, while others participated in public protests or contentious media actions in their countries of residence. The political turmoil following the Arab uprisings accelerated the pace of immigration from the Middle East, similar to previous political conflicts such as the Iranian revolution in 1979 and the Gulf wars against Iraq in 1991 and 2003. Many activists had left their countries at the start of the protests to escape the threat of imprisonment or legal pursuit if they did not succumb to silence (Dunne & Hamzawy, 2019; Galal, 2021a). Among diaspora members living in Europe, some closely follow

Mobilizing and mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas  3 the political developments in their countries of origin and many of them attempt to exert their influence and make changes in politics and media in their countries of origin as well as in the European countries in which they now reside (Brinkerhoff, 2009; Galal, 2021a). The current political development has consequently revived a so-​called homeland orientation among Middle Eastern diaspora communities, regardless of its potential short-​term existence. This political orientation toward the country of origin has motivated the authors of this book to look more closely into the meaning of diasporic and transnational action formation and the role of media therein. Three recent developments make it particularly urgent and relevant to explore the role of transnational media in political action formation among Middle Eastern diasporic communities in Europe: first, the increased political turmoil, civil war, new authoritarianism, and severe constraints on the media, following the 2011 uprisings in Arab countries (Hinnebusch, 2018); second, the appearance of a new public concern about mass migration to Western countries, post–​Arab Spring, as well as the securitization of Middle Eastern political formation in these countries; and third, the easy access to a continuously increasing variety of transnational and digital media outlets “from below.” New and varied politically mobilized media outlets and platforms have appeared—​some of which publish and broadcast from outside the Middle East—​while regime-​critical media in the Middle East face additional political constraints (Hassan, 2015; Lynch, 2013). These developments affect Middle Eastern diasporic communities differently: they create new restraints and opportunities in transnational political mobilization. Social media have been essential for the diasporas’ involvement in politics, in addition to more traditional media outlets in the diasporas (mainly television channels and news websites). This book considers different forms of communication, and how they facilitate the diasporas’ participation in three-​ dimensional diasporic politics: local (country of residence), native (country of origin), and global (foreign countries). One of the considerations is the transformation of the media role—​from means of mobilization during the region’s revolutions to means of authoritarianism a few years later. Studying the diasporas’ involvement in politics during these transformations would be helpful in understanding how people use media to maintain, dissolve, or rebuild transnational and diasporic connections. To study these complex connections between the Middle East and its new diasporic communities, this book provides new and empirically grounded knowledge of the multidimensional ways in which media are involved in powerful conflicts and diasporic politics today. The ten chapters, including this introductory chapter, are based on developments in the Middle East since 2011 and explore how diaspora groups in different places in Europe and the US relate to the situation in their countries of origin. Based on case studies covering diasporic communities such as Afghani, Armenian, Bahraini, Egyptian, Lebanese, Syrian, Tunisian, and Turkish ones, this book examines the situated use of multiple media platforms. The theoretical and analytical

4  Ehab Galal and Mostafa Shehata approaches of the contributions are guided by an interest in exploring the connections between means of communication, political contention, and diasporic constructions of belonging, as well as by the question of how these connections facilitate political action formation. The book’s chapters share this general motivation and together offer new insights into Middle Eastern diasporas, political communication, and political mobilization. Some chapters mainly focus on the aspect of mediatization, while others are more preoccupied with the processes of mobilization. After a short discussion of the concepts of diaspora and mobilization, the chapter proceeds with the presentation of each chapter’s contribution to these two aspects. Diaspora and mobilization In the Middle Eastern context, the concept of diaspora has repeatedly been applied to uncover the situation of Kurdish and Palestinian populations outside their “homelands” (Alinia et al., 2014; Baser, 2013, 2015; Mason, 2007; Peteet, 2007; Schøtt, 2021; Schulz, 2005). This usage is in accordance with the generally accepted understanding of diaspora as members of a defined group [that] have been dispersed to many destinations; they construct a shared identity; they still somewhat orient themselves to an original “home”; and they demonstrate an affinity with other members of the group dispersed to other places. (Cohen, 2023, p. 1) However, besides these two groups’ particular histories, other Middle Eastern immigrant populations have also left the region and for varied reasons: labor migration, refuge, trade, and so on. In Robin Cohen’s well-​known introduction to Global Diasporas, he categorizes these groups as different varieties of diasporas arguing that we need to extend the understanding of diaspora as more than only groups that have left due to traumatic circumstances (Cohen, 2008). This contestation of the classical diaspora concept has generally been welcomed, but an equation of diaspora with more or less all immigrant groups has also been criticized for rendering the concept too broad and without analytical value (Brubaker, 2005; Cohen, 2015; Féron & Voytiv, 2021). Second, Féron and Voytiv have criticized the understanding of diaspora groups as “permanent categories reduced to specific histories of migration” (2021, p. 211). In the twenty-​fifth anniversary edition of his book, Cohen has responded to this critique by adding a new category of “Incipient diasporas,” because “diasporas are not simply ‘there,’ but are actively brought into being and mobilized by a socially conscious fraction of a particular social group, and thereafter constructed, enacted and performed by a significant section of the dispersed group” (Cohen, 2023, p. 123). While including this element of social practice and mobilization, Cohen’s focus is still on the process of becoming a group; it is the group’s ability “to articulate and commit to a collective position”

Mobilizing and mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas  5 (2023, p. 123) that makes it into a diaspora. He furthermore adds in a chapter on “Diaspora Engagement” that commitment to a collective position may take place at several levels, such as governments, agencies, and communities as well as families (Cohen, 2023, p. 165ff). By adding these perspectives, he draws on discussions motivated by the transnational turn within migration studies. The transnational turn has challenged and developed the diaspora concept to acknowledge the situational, relational, and contextual character of diasporic mobilization (Féron & Voytiv, 2021; Sökefeld, 2006). Instead of explaining diasporic political action formation with essentialist claims-​ making, Féron and Voytiv (2021) argue that “[d]‌iasporas come into being through mobilizations; they are ‘projects,’ stances, and practices rather than groups with a pre-​defined destiny” (p. 211). Thus, while Cohen sheds light on the process toward an ultimate goal of substantiating the group, Féron and Voytiv (2021) and Sökefeld (2006) are preoccupied with examining the situated practices that connect migrants with their country of origin without looking for particular group formations. Both approaches may be useful depending on analytical interests, but to our purpose the focus on situated practices is particularly useful. It is the diasporic practices of Middle Eastern immigrants in Europe and the US that have our interest, and not if they are or are on their way to becoming a particular group. And, in contrast to the concept of transnationalism that suggests multidirectional belongings, we still believe that the concept of diaspora is useful by highlighting the significance of the potential emotional, social, and political connections that create the country of origin as the “homeland.” The factors that are necessary to move from mobilization to political action may be facilitated by already existing diaspora networks and organizations, but in other cases the mobilization process is more a question of connecting people that do not necessarily share an idea of communality beforehand. To understand this distinction, it is fruitful to apply the concepts of collective and connective action formation introduced by Lance Bennett and Alexandra Segerberg in their book The Logic of Connective Action: Digital Media and the Personalization of Contentious Politics (2013). They understand connective action as individual and loosely organized, while collective action is regarded as structured and well organized (Bennett & Segerberg, 2013). In the classical understanding of the diaspora—​which presupposes a well-​defined group—​ collective action formation is taken for granted. However, the case studies of this volume suggest a more processual approach and demonstrate how especially digital media, like Bennett and Segerberg suggest, create new connections and diasporic action formation but without ensuring a long-​time effect neither on the targeted conditions nor on the constitution of a group identity. Having in mind that new authoritarianism in the Middle East has forced former activists to escape, the question is whether and how this dispersal leads to the mobilization of diasporic communities, and how a specific situation, local and transnational relations, political context, and media uses inform these processes. A concern of particular interest to these questions is how

6  Ehab Galal and Mostafa Shehata media users connect to distinct diasporic configurations (ways of being) and organizational structures (ways of doing) (Levitt & Schiller, 2004) by embracing multidirectional and situated media practices (Alonso & Oiarzabal, 2010; Georgiou, 2006; Moores, 2012). The studies in this book show how such bonds are revived or fade in time and space, without taking emotional or political attachment to the “homeland” for granted. Mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas The role of media during and after the Arab uprisings has been widely studied (e.g., Bebawi, 2016; Hudson et al., 2014; Zayani, 2014; Zayani & Mirgani, 2016) as have transnational media dimensions of the Arab uprisings (Gerges, 2015; Sadiki, 2014). These studies mainly focus on the political ideologies and mobilization within contexts of the Middle East region and international politics, and, despite a large interest in the role of social and digital media, they have not connected this with the diasporas. The interest in social and digital media as tools for mobilizing large numbers of people, in addition, has been dominated by a media-​centered approach that is more preoccupied with media as an agent by itself rather than with media users. The main focus of this book is on diasporic mobilizing processes. Although media still play a crucial role, the focus of the contributions is on collective and connective action formation together with the channeling of these actions (Bennett & Segerberg, 2013; Krotz, 2008). Studies of the Middle Eastern uprisings have generally not included a perspective on diasporas. There are few studies on the use of national and transnational media by Arab-​European citizens that address processes of identification, acculturation, and multiple belonging (Galal, 2014; Rinnawi, 2012; Slade, 2014). The use of transnational and other media by Middle Eastern diasporic communities in the post–​Arab Spring’s political mobilization has not yet been explored, despite programmatic claims made about the importance of transnational perspectives (Lynch, 2006; Mandaville, 2003). While media involvement may politically disconnect or reconnect users to countries of origin (Andersson, 2012), the focus in the following is on the intersection of diverse media outlets and the use thereof. Users may be mobilized by conflicts, on the one hand, which are mediatized due to the media’s fundamental and comprehensive embeddedness in conflict (Mortensen, 2016); on the other hand, users make use of media for different purposes and with different conversation partners. Transnational media may be used for communication with family and friends, but as a tool for poli­ tical communication, transnational media play a role, not only by sharing information that challenges hegemonic interpretations of a conflict situation but also by reaching out to potential allies. The question, in the context of this book, is how connections between forms of contentious political action and media use are constituted in different ways and through different media channels.

Mobilizing and mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas  7 The intersection between everyday media use and political mobilization appears in Chapter 2, “Diasporic Political Communication among Arabs in Europe: From Online Campaigning to Friendship Networks,” by Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal. They apply a political communication approach to some overall findings of the collaborative research project Mediatized Diaspora1 that includes a large and complex data set on Arab diaspora communities in Europe with origins in Syria, Bahrain, Egypt, and Tunisia. Following Cohen’s distinction between levels of diaspora engagement, their findings show that political communication takes place at several levels: the private level of friendship and family networks, online and through other media outlets, in formal organizations such as political parties and diaspora associations, and through international solidarity and activism. The findings do not compare the mobilization potential of each communication channel; however, they show that diasporic identification not only comes into being due to specific media activities, but also because of the existent and newly established networks and connections. By addressing connections between political communication and diasporic (de)mobilization, Chapter 2 prepares the grounds for the following chapters’ discussions. The intersection between an existent diasporic network and mediatized mobilization is examined in Chapter 3: “The Power of the Media in Mobilizing Diaspora Support for Syrian Armenians: The Case of Kessab,” by Ohannes Geukjian. The attack in 2014 by armed rebels on the Armenian town of Kessab in Syria, allegedly supported by Turkey, led to a mobilization of the well-​ established Armenian diaspora community in the US. Viral videos and social media networks mobilized not only Armenian diasporas but also Armenian-​ American celebrities such as the Kardashians, as well as other American celebrities, while the well-​ established Armenian lobby organizations used their connections with the US Congress and State Department to mobilize support. Besides the successful use of social media, the mobilization was enforced by references to genocide through visuals creating a direct link to the Armenians’ history of victimization. This example illustrates how the successful mobilization was the result of the intersection between a mobilizing event (the attack in Syria), existent collectivity (established diaspora organizations), and connec­ tivity (between diaspora and American politicians, celebrities, and others), as well as a globally acknowledged victim narrative. The affective responses to a crisis event are also an essential aspect in Chapter 4: “Beirut from ‘October Revolution’ of 2019 to the 4 August Explosion in 2020: Transnational Solidarity, Social Media, and Affective Communities,” by Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha. Da Cunha explores how digital and social media became the main platform through which Lebanese citizens—​in Lebanon and in the diaspora—​came together to harness a unique momentum of transnational solidarity. Her focus is on the communication of Lebanese musicians on digital media platforms; its affective dimensions together with material, political, social, and sonic worlds. The musicians rely on digital media to communicate their music, whereas da Cunha emphasizes

8  Ehab Galal and Mostafa Shehata how the intertwinement of digital media and music facilitated the sharing of narratives, and also provided a channel for coping with precarity, loss, and anxiety. Mobilization using digital communication may take other directions, as illustrated in Chapter 5 by Josepha Wessels: “The Webinar as a Tool for Diasporic Political Communication to Counter Mis/​ disinformation about Syria.” Wessels analyzes two webinars that represent polar positions within the spectrum between conspiracy theories, mis/​disinformation, and fact-​based opinions about Syria and the Syrian crisis. The first webinar was organized by the educational non-​profit Just World Educational (JWE) based in the US and represents a “top-​down anti-​imperialist discourse”; the second was organized exclusively by diasporic Syrians to counter this discourse. Wessels shows how the webinar as a medium creates new virtual diaspora networks in the struggle over coverage of the war, but also that webinars may strengthen digital authoritarianism and disinformation campaigns; consequently, both webinars attempt to guide and control the kind of mobilization to which the deterritorializing of the conflict in Syria may lead. The above examples focus on the country of origin as their center of attention, whereas Chapter 6: “Arab Social Media News in Sweden: Site of Information or Site of Struggle?” by Mahitab Ezz El-​Din shows that media established in diaspora may promote multidirectional connectivity. Ezz El-​Din studies the digital interactivity of the Arab diaspora in Sweden by analyzing the Facebook pages “Alkompis” and “Sweden Today.” The diaspora has a general interest in topics relating to the Arab countries, whereas other topics and discussions appear just as prevalent, such as issues concerning the minority position in the receiving country, the Arab and Muslim diaspora’s living conditions in other diasporic contexts, as well as international politics. A diasporic victim narrative is constructed in the interactive posting of comments across the different topics; however, migrants are victims of both the authoritarianism in the Middle East and the Islamophobia of Western leaders. What appears as general news on digital platforms may also function as a mobilizer of political contestation. This may show directly in their choice of topics and approaches, or indirectly through the users’ involvement, which nurtures a diasporic narrative. Mobilizing Middle Eastern diasporas It is remarkable that the current conditions of many countries in the Middle East (including war, political instability, political conflict, and economic deterioration) have resulted, in one way or another, from the revolutions and uprisings that erupted in the region within about a decade (from the Iran 2009 movement to the Lebanon 2019 uprising). We are not arguing here that Middle East revolutions were a direct reason for instability and dictatorship; instead, we are marking these developments to better understand the issues that might influence the orientations of the Middle Eastern diasporas and activities. The

Mobilizing and mediatizing Middle Eastern diasporas  9 conditions left behind in the countries of origins are believed to have shaped the diasporas’ activities practiced in the countries of residence. In Chapter 7 on “Digital Diaspora: The Case of Farkhunda and Afghan Women’s Resistance,” Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou analyze how the killing of the Afghani woman Farkhunda Malikzada in 2015 mobilized Afghani diasporas worldwide. Malikzada was beaten to death in a mob frenzy, falsely accused of having burned the Qur’an in Kabul. The national and international mainstream media covered the event, while the perpetrators’ own filming of the event on their smartphones not only made it possible to identify them, but was also used in the mobilization of the Afghani civil society and diaspora for women’s rights through the circulation of hashtags and images via social media. Based on the analysis of the mobilization among Afghani-​ Danes, Waltorp and Ben Haddou conclude that the spread and popularization of digital media technology transformed the political communication among diaspora groups, which also led to younger generation of Afghani origin to invest in politics in Afghanistan. Dağhan Irak, in Chapter 8: “Whom Do the Diaspora Members Interact with When There Are Elections in the ‘Homeland’?”, in contrast, examines the intersections between the electoral campaign period of 2018 in Turkey and the diasporic processes among the Turkish-​ speaking population in France. He finds that the diasporic mobilization differs across generations. The third-​generation Turkish-​French is not politically engaged in their ancestral country; although they adopt some transnational practices through social media and popular culture, this has more to do with everyday life and expressions than with political actions. Irak emphasizes the rhizomatic character of the diasporic networks, which make them prone to either split or join, create, or recreate. Comparing the Turkish and Afghani examples, it is worth considering the difference between the events that are explored for having mobilizing potential: the Turkish national election versus the unlawful and cruel killing of an Afghani woman. The first is a national election campaign that is reaching out from the “center” to the diaspora to encourage the territorial belonging in a centripetal movement. Mobilizing in the Afghani case appears as processed by a centrifugal power facilitated by digital connective action and based on universal claims that transgress ethnic and national borders. Yet another important perspective on mobilization is addressed in Chapter 9: “Making an Impact: The Role of Media Activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark,” by Thomas Brandt Fibiger. Fibiger compares citizens with a Bahraini background living in London and Denmark. He shows how a core group of dedicated Bahraini-​British activists in London follows the situation in Bahrain and writes and disseminates news through diverse digital media platforms. In contrast, many Bahraini-​Danes avoid following the situation in Bahrain, arguing that they cannot change the situation anyway. Fibiger’s findings accentuate that the process of mobilization may also move backward in the form of demobilization.

10  Ehab Galal and Mostafa Shehata In Chapter 10, “Reporting on the Syrian Conflict from Exile: Examining Advocacy Strategies in Diaspora Journalists’ Online News,” Rana Arafat investigates two Syrian anti-​regime diasporic news websites—​the Turkish-​ based Enab Baladi and Rozana with headquarters in Paris and Gaziantep. She uncovers how diaspora journalists mediate the ongoing conflict in their country of origin by promoting underrepresented voices, oppositional stances, humanitarian aspects, and criticism. By providing counternarratives to the state-​owned Syrian media, their embracement of advocacy strategies works to deterritorialize the Syrian conflict and thereby mobilize diaspora groups (Féron & Voytiv, 2021). The studies of such different processes of diaspora mobilization confirm the importance of considering the situational, relational, and contextual character of diasporic mobilization. Across the contributions it is possible to identify different formations of mobilization processes. Some engage diaspora members by employing narratives of belonging; others by employing narratives of universal rights. Some engage politically loosely connected generations with their country of origin; others disconnect migrant generations from the country they recently left. Some engage by drawing attention to a particular significant (traumatic) event; others by repeating and reviving a victim narrative associated with a particular group. These different processes of mobilization may converge, but also collide. Especially the possibility of collision may be grounds for further studies to understand why some mobilization processes appear successful, others only live briefly, while the rest never seems able to seize the opportunity. The aim of this book is to contribute to the mediatized mobilization of Middle Eastern diasporas through case-​based studies that collectively provide both deep and broad knowledge on these concepts. We do not claim that we have covered all relevant aspects of mediatized mobilization and diasporic political communication that have taken place since 2011. However, we hope that this book will inspire readers to raise new questions and suggest new perspectives, regardless of whether the reader’s main interest is the Middle Eastern diaspora, contentious politics and mobilization, or the use of media and particularly digital media. Note 1 The collaborative research project Mediatized Diaspora (MEDIASP)—​Contentious Politics among Arab Media Users in Europe was led by Associate Professor Ehab Galal and located at the University of Copenhagen. The project was financed by the Independent Research Fund Denmark (funding ID: 8018–​00038B).

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2 Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe From online campaigning to friendship networks Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal Introduction The Arab Spring began in Tunisia in late 2010, and spread to other Arab countries, nurturing the aspiration among Arab populations for democratic transition. The failure of such a transition has given rise to a recent wave of immigration to the West, especially to Europe (Rennick, 2021, p. 2). There are several reasons for this emigration, such as the economic deterioration in Tunisia, lack of freedom in Egypt and Bahrain, and armed conflicts in Yemen, Libya, and Syria. A new wave of revolutions that erupted in Sudan, Iraq, Algeria, and Lebanon, ten years after the start of the Arab Spring, has not led to any stable democratic transition, however; instead, the different problems that Arab populations have faced after the failed revolutions have been the stimulus for escalating emigration from the Arab countries. These emigrants have joined existing Arab diaspora groups on their arrival and settlement in different European countries. There were many who settled as migrant workers in Europe in the second half of the twentieth century. The current motive for migration may differ among the new arrivals: they share the experience of futile aspirations, while potentially still hoping for a political transformation in their home countries. It is well known that diaspora groups may push for transformation at home. Studies have not only shown how different political strategies have been applied by diaspora members in relation to their homelands (Ragab, McGregor, & Siegel, 2013), but also how communicative aspects appear (Grossman, 2019; Tsagarousianou & Retis, 2019). There have been few initiatives to theorize the intersection between diaspora, politics, and communication strategies. The current case of Arab diasporas in Europe offers the opportunity to theorize what we choose to define as diasporic political communication. Our aim is to combine knowledge from diaspora studies with political communication studies to develop a theoretical framework that may also be applicable to other diaspora contexts. The case study of current Arab diasporas in Europe is particularly useful because their migration histories take place within the same span of years. The Arab diasporans have similar experiences of declining aspirations, while at the same time, represent different nationalities and national specificities in political DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-2

14  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal culture: post–​Arab Spring, size of diaspora, and places of settlement. We therefore develop the concept of diasporic political communication by drawing on the study of four distinct Arab diaspora communities: Syrian, Bahraini, Egyptian, and Tunisian. This study is based on a collaborative research project: “Mediatized Diaspora: Contentious Politics among Arab Media Users in Europe.”1 After this introduction that outlines the recent Arab immigration to Europe, the second section of the chapter highlights the diaspora originating from four countries: Syria, Bahrain, Egypt, and Tunisia. Then, the chapter presents a theoretical framing of the concept of diasporic political communication, followed by a note on methodology. The analysis consists of five parts, each taking up a particular aspect of diasporic political communication leading to the conclusive definition of the concept. Arab diasporas Arabs have recently become one of the world’s highest emigrating populations, especially in the wake of the Arab Spring revolutions (Ben Amer, Haroun, & Mennani, 2020, p. 2), which have turned into, or led to, political conflicts, military coups, and even bloody wars. In diasporas they face double challenges: the anti-​immigration policies of the receiving countries (Rashid, 2017, p. 40) and the political repression of their home countries (Galal & Shehata, 2020, p. 5). We focus only on four diasporic communities in Europe in this study, namely, those with origins in Tunisia, Egypt, Bahrain, and Syria. The revolutions in these four countries have differed as have their consequences. Tunisia had a short-​lived democracy that recently ended with a coup; in Egypt, an even shorter period of limited democratic features was undermined by a military coup; Bahrain’s revolution did not bring an end to authoritarianism in the country, and the experiment was quashed; Syria had a revolution that turned into a (persistent) war which has led to a human disaster and international intervention. Starting with Tunisia, the country has continued to register a high rate of citizens leaving, especially to Western countries. A total of 1.2 million (out of 11.5 million) have emigrated from Tunisia, of whom 84.5% are living in Europe, particularly in France (Tunisia’s Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 2014). The economic deterioration brought about by the political instability in the wake of the 2011 revolution, is one of the main reasons for the increased emigration from Tunisia (Wolf, 2014). The Tunisian diaspora had already been a key player in homeland affairs before the revolution, taking into account both its contribution to the national income of Tunisia (Mensard, 2004, p. 134), and its oppositional role (Graziano, 2012; Dazey & Zederman, 2017). Tunisia has managed to sustain a form of democratic transition in the first ten years after its revolution, which has shaped the political communication of its diaspora. This transition has maintained an expansion in the freedom of speech and organization (Masri, 2017), encouraging more people to engage in politics

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  15 in the diaspora without fear of repression. Media platforms have also grown since the revolution (el-​Issawi, 2012, p. 6), providing a wider space for diverse political orientations (Bucklet et al., 2012). These democratic gains, however, were undermined after a coup undertaken by President Kais Saied, who dismissed the government and suspended parliament in July 2021 (Amara & Mcdowall, 2021). Two waves of immigration were, according to Beaugrand (2016, pp. 95–​ 96), significant in the last century for the Kingdom of Bahrain: the Marxist and Arab nationalist movements (between the 1960s and 1970s) and the Shi’ite Islamists (between the 1980s and 1990s). The leftists mostly relocated to South Yemen, Lebanon, and Syria. The Shi’ite Islamists, who supported the 1979 Iranian revolution, were severely repressed, accused of orchestrating a coup, thus driving them to immigrate to Canada and Scandinavia. Members of the Al-​Dawa Party, established in 1972, immigrated to London, which had become a destination for exiled Islamists in the 1980s and 1990s. According to Fibiger (2020), London has increasingly become a hub for members of the Bahraini political opposition and their media activities. It has also become a destination for Bahraini diasporic communities, which have kept close ties with their homeland (Marei & Shanneik, 2021, pp. 57–​58). Bahrain experienced a revolution in February 2011, following the fall of Egypt’s Hosni Mubarak. The Bahraini regime called for the intervention of the military arm of the Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC), which allowed the government to stop the demonstrations and take control of security across the country (Shehabi & Jones, 2015, pp. 4–​7). It is noteworthy that the failure of the revolution to push through democratic reform and the crackdown on opposition have marked a new wave of “outmigration” (Beaugrand, 2016, p. 99). Egypt is one of the Middle Eastern nations with the highest level of emigration, which accounts for approximately nine million people, most of whom reside in Saudi Arabia, Jordan, the United Arab Emirates, Europe, North America, and Australia (Tsourapas, 2018). Egypt has experienced an increase in emigration due to economic hardship, similar to most Arab Spring countries (Weiskoppel, 2015, p. 7), as well as the rise of authoritarianism after the 2013 military coup (Dunne & Hamzawy, 2019; Hussin, 2020, p. 5). It is worth mentioning here that the diaspora’s economic remittances have increasingly become an important source of the Egyptian economy since the 1970s (Tsourapas, 2018, p. 2). The pace of emigration has changed in Egypt since then, based on four factors: the degree of political freedom, the economic hardship, regional political stability, and regional economic prosperity. According to Zohry (2014, pp. 78–​82), 1974 is significant, because restrictions on the migration of labor was lifted that year, after the authorization of migration in 1971; this was due to the decline in economic progress and the rise of unemployment. The number of Egyptian immigrants in the Arab Gulf countries gradually increased between 1974 and the early 1980s, since these countries needed foreign laborers for their development projects. The Iraq-​Iran war in the 1980s, and later the Gulf war, however, meant that the number of Egyptian migrant

16  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal workers in the Gulf countries and Iraq declined or stagnated. Libya, meanwhile, had become a central target country for Egyptian migrants since the late 1990s, but they had to return to Egypt after 2011 because of the political instability caused by the fall of the Libyan regime (Zohry, 2014). An increasing number of political activists, liberals, and Islamists have left Egypt since then—​particularly after the military coup in 2013—​due to political repression (Dunne & Hamzawy, 2019). Some have settled in Turkey, while others have been granted asylum in different Western countries, many with aspirations of continuing the political struggle they had been part of in Egypt. The Egyptian regime is trying hard to put pressure on politically active Egyptians in diaspora, however, as Galal (2021) has argued, either by making personal threats against families in Egypt or by putting pressure on the receiving countries. Syria has increasingly become a population-​expelling country since 2011 as a result of the ongoing civil war and foreign countries’ interference: the war has forced millions of people to flee the country to several destinations. According to the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (2021), Syrian refugees account for about 6.6 million, of whom 5.6 million are hosted in Syria’s neighboring countries. Syria has, as argued by Ragab, Rahmeier, and Siegel (2017, p. 13), a long history of emigration, and, similar to Egypt, the mid-​1970s initiated increased migration to the Gulf countries, which subsequently declined in the 1980s. The Lebanese civil war (1975–​1989) also allowed low-​skilled workers from Syria to migrate to Lebanon until 2005, while Europe was also a destination for a smaller flow of Syrians. The Syrian civil war has caused mass outflows to several countries such as Turkey, Lebanon, Jordan, Germany, and Sweden since 2011 (Ragab, Rahmeier, & Siegel, 2017). This mass outflow of Syrians sparked a humanitarian crisis, considering not only the large number of refugees and the short time they were allowed to flee the country, but also the upheaval caused in receiving countries, especially in the European Union (Williams & Carlson, 2020, pp. 3–​4). The Syrian diasporic communities have played a crucial oppositional role toward their homeland affairs for years; thanks to communication technology, they have come to support the Syrian revolution. The digital authoritarianism practiced by the Syrian regime, however, has forced many Syrians in diasporas to stop their political activities (Moss, 2018, p. 276), in what Yonus (2020, p. 105) calls: “the complexities… between political activism and demobilization.” A theoretical framework for diasporic political communication An initial search on “diasporic political communication” on Google Scholar did not yield any results. Narrowing the search to the term “diasporic communication” resulted in approximately 400 items, most of which did not directly discuss the term. The lack of using the term “diasporic communication” in the literature cannot necessarily be traced back to its omission, but simply because “intercultural communication” has been the alternative umbrella term under which diasporic studies fall. With the rise of emigration triggered by political

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  17 instability in the past 11 years (especially from the Middle East), and the political struggle of diasporic communities against homeland regimes, the term “diasporic political communication” should attract greater interest. There have been only a few studies that have discussed diasporic communication but lack a concrete definition of the concept. One of the early works using the concept, addressed the cultural practices and spaces that spread beyond the boundaries of place and sense of belonging, which affect people’s identity (Fazal & Tsagarousianou, 2002, p. 5). Verhulst (1999, p. 31), some years earlier, stressed the role of diasporic communication in preserving the existing identities of diasporic communities through media and communication technology. Dorjee, Giles, and Barker (2011) similarly used the concept to highlight how diaspora members preserve their identity (specifically language) in a country of residence. Burman (2006) addressed only one aspect of diasporic communication—​ "migrant remittances”—​ as a transnational interaction between migrants and their homelands (p. 7). The concept of diasporic communication has consequently been used to describe transborder communication, either inclusively (cultural practices) or exclusively (migrant remittances). Diasporic communication has therefore been regarded, or dealt with, as a part of intercultural communication. Intercultural communication provides a firm basis for the scholarship on diasporic communities, but when it comes to the political interactions of the diaspora, political communication should also be brought into the discussion; both fields can provide valuable insights for studying the political activities of diasporic communities. Intercultural communication is crucial to help understand the dimensions of the activities practiced by diaspora members and what it means to communicate with others across borders (Klyukanov, 2021, p. 23). Political communication is important if one wants to identify the strength of the activities people practice, and the role of the media in that regard, in what McNair (2018, p. xi) calls “the relationship between communication and politics.” We argue, however, that political and intercultural communication can come together to explain the political activities of diasporic communities. With the rise of repression in the Arab Spring countries, Arab opposition activities have significantly increased in the West (Galal, 2022), which has lent political communication a great momentum. One of the useful concepts that can help us understand political interactions in the diaspora is “diasporic politics,” as proposed by Laguerre (2006, p. 3), which includes three dimensions of politics: national, international, and transnational. In relation to these dimensions, Drzewiecka and Halualani (2002) identified three forms of communication related to diasporic politics: private, public, and interregional. These three forms were used by Van Hear and Cohen (2017, p. 173) to describe how diasporic groups engage in politics. Our main focus is on how the Arab diaspora in Europe is involved in the politics of the country of origin and the politics of the country of residence, as well as the international community—​all of which usually serve as areas of influence through which the diaspora members can engage in politics (see

18  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal

Figure 2.1 The dimensions of diasporic politics and how media intersects with them.

Figure 2.1). We therefore approach diasporic communities not as predefined and essentialized entities (Amit & Rapport, 2002, p. 60), but through their transnational communicative practices and political action formation (Alonso & Oiarzabal, 2010). In this manner we came to understand political communication in the diaspora as based on several concepts: diasporic politics (Laguerre, 2006), forms of communication (Drzewiecka & Halualani, 2002), spheres of engagement (Van Hear & Cohen, 2017), and diasporic engagement (Yanasmayan & Kaşlı, 2019). These concepts focus on how citizens in diasporas engage in politics, which may occur in different scopes (national, international, and transnational), different structures (individual or collective), and different mechanisms (mediated or non-​mediated). In this chapter we base our analysis specifically on the three dimensions of diasporic politics proposed by Laguerre (2006). Indeed, diasporic politics is not the only element we address in this chapter: we mainly look at the role of communication in building or facilitating diasporic politics based on Drzewiecka and Halualani’s (2002, p. 341) argument that communication is central in understanding and analyzing diasporic politics. The aim of this chapter is to theorize the main aspects of political communication in diasporas, or what we call “diasporic political communication,” and it attempts to answer the following question: What are the aspects of political communication in diasporas? This research locates the political activities practiced by the Arab diaspora in Europe through communication and media channels that allow a link with the diaspora’s surrounding environments (Karim, 2018). We classify the main political activities practiced by diaspora members in the context of diasporic political communication; hence, by “diasporic political communication” we mean the political interaction practiced by diaspora members with their surrounding environment—​in its various dimensions—​through communication and media channels.

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  19 There are various means of political interaction through which diaspora members can interact, such as networks, media, and organizations; in this respect, several studies have argued that media in diasporas keep people connectively linked (Kang, 2009; Tsagarousianou & Retis, 2019, p. 4), while structured organizations keep them collectively related (Cohen, 2023; Grossman, 2019, p. 1274). Taking into consideration these means of interaction, we will identify the aspects of political communication in diasporas in the following discussion. This will enable us to better understand the chances available for the diaspora, not only to engage in politics but also to have a transnational effect. Methods To obtain knowledge about Arab diasporas’ ways of political communication, we have conducted semi-structured interviews with Arab diaspora members residing in Europe (Germany, the United Kingdom, France, Denmark, Sweden, and Turkey). A total of 160 men and women with origins in Egypt, Bahrain, Tunisia, and Syria were interviewed (see Table 2.1).2 Two criteria were considered in selecting the sample: interest in politics—​a criterion that allowed us to locate different patterns of engagement in politics through communication channels—​and having received at least a middle level of education. The different ages and political affiliation categories were also considered in the sample to represent diverse aspects of political involvement in diasporas. New participants were recruited in addition to directly recruiting previously known names by applying the “snowball technique,” which depends on the efforts of earlier participants to provide other relevant participants (Biernacki & Waldorf, 1981). Several strategies were used to approach and recruit participants, such as contacting well-​ known activists and advocates, connecting with active members of social media, visiting Arab diasporic communities, and attending special events related to the countries under study. In addition to a face-​to-​face Table 2.1 Distribution of sample by gender and country (of origin and residence) Country of Denmark Sweden Germany UK France Turkey residence F* M** F M F M F M F M F M

Total

Country of origin Egypt Syria Bahrain Tunisia Total Notes:   * F=​females ** M=​males

4 6 5 6 3 4 3 8 15 24

3 5 -​ 1 9

4 2 -​ 9 15

2 8 -​ -​ 10

4 11 -​ 15

4 -​ 3 -​ 7

4 -​ 21 -​ 25

2 -​ -​ 4 6

4 -​ -​ 20 24

3 -​ -​

7 -​ -​

3

7

47 37 31 45 160

20  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal recruitment process, some communication channels were used to contact participants, such as WhatsApp and Facebook Messenger. An interview guide was prepared for data collection to direct the discussions with participants. The interview guide included several points with a focus on the political activities practiced by Arab diaspora members in relation to their homeland, country of residence, the international community, and how communication channels might inform this participation. Participants were met at different places at their request, such as cafes, mosques, homes, and social institutions. This allowed us to observe the participants’ behavior (e.g., communication activities) at the places they spend time in. Therefore, different activities were observed, whether religious, social, or political, which allowed us to better understand several aspects of diasporic activities. The interviews were digitally recorded for the purpose of transcription (Creswell, 2009; Kvale, 2007), and the data were coded after transcription by using NVivo software. The data coding process was guided by the Straussian approach of grounded theory in three stages: open, axial, and selective (Corbin & Strauss, 1990, 2015). Two categories were found to be central in the data: political activities practiced by participants, and the contribution of communication in these activities, around which other categories were organized. Moreover, a peer debriefing technique (Creswell & Miller, 2000, p. 129) was used to achieve a high degree of validity of methods and analysis. Two intercultural communication scholars reviewed and commented on the interview guide and data coding, providing insightful feedback that helped us improve the procedures and analysis of the study. In order to protect the interviewees from any risks associated with participation in the study, they were anonymized in this chapter by removing characteristics that could identify them (names, exact age, and place of residence); we only mention their home country and country of residence. We have also allocated alphabetical letters to institutions or groups to preserve their anonymity. Analysis Aspects and principles of diasporic political communication The field of political communication addresses the role of any form of communication associated with politics (McNair, 2018, p. 4). We define political communication, in a diasporic context, to include any verbal or action-​based political interaction practiced by diaspora members (either citizens or political actors). The analysis of Arab diaspora communities’ involvement in politics, in this respect, has identified five main political activities in which communication has played a key role (see Figure 2.2). The diverse activities illustrate the “cacophony and competing interests, identities, and stances” that diasporic politics represent, rather than “a unified political voice” (Adamson, 2019, p. 211).

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  21

Figure 2.2 Aspects of diasporic political communication. Involvement in political parties

Except for Tunisians, the Arab diaspora groups included in this study did not show a direct relationship with political parties in their homelands, arguably because of the failure of the revolutions in these three countries, which led to a tighter grip over political activists and to a broken connection between diaspora members and homeland political powers. There are several Tunisian diaspora members, however, who have kept an active relationship with homeland political parties since before the Tunisian coup in July 2021. A middle-​aged male residing in Denmark, for example, stated: “In 2011, I traveled to Tunisia and established a political party […]. I also established an organization concerned with protecting kids from physical and sexual violence. I’m still in touch with the party and the organization through social media.” Other participants have been key members in political parties such as the Islamist Ennahda, and the center left party The Congress for the Republic. A young woman living in France stated: “I joined the Congress for the Republic in 2012 […], with which I ran in the parliamentary election, but we lost due to the lack of transparency. Then I came to France and started to support the progressive movement.” Syria, in contrast, with a political scene dominated by the president’s Arab Socialist Ba’ath Party since the 1970 coup d’état, did not allow a connection between the diaspora members and the homeland powers; however, some diaspora members came together in their country of residence to support the revolution taking place in their homeland. Their aim was to “end the dictatorship

22  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal in Syria to establish a free state, civil state, [and] legal state,” as expressed by an old opposition member. The Bahraini diaspora did not have the opportunity to be involved in political parties in the homeland, because of the failure of the 2011 revolution, which has allowed the regime to tighten its power grip since then. A middle-​ aged male participant living in London, who was active in the opposition body in Bahrain, has moved his activity to his country of residence, attempting to continue his political struggle in the diaspora. Egyptian diaspora members also lost their organizational involvement in the political bodies in Egypt after they left the country. A former male political activist stated: “I joined a team within a specific organization, and I was a social media activist. We controlled the public field until the coup of 2013.” The relationship between Arab diaspora members and the political parties in their homelands depended on the degree of political freedom in their countries of origin. According to Adamson (2019, p. 212), the homeland states are “crucial factors in both ‘diaspora-​shaping,’ and ‘diaspora-​generating’ processes.” Forming associations in diasporas

Social associations in diasporas are vital for the interaction of homogeneous individuals. The Arab diaspora has formed several associations in their countries of residence for various purposes, such as socializing, religious rituals, political campaigning, and identity sharing. Due to the Syrian humanitarian crisis, and the large number of refugees who have recently landed in Europe, many organizations have been formed in the diaspora, not only to look after them but also to tell the international community about the ongoing crisis in their homelands. An elderly Syrian male opposition figure residing in Berlin stated: I participate in activities here about the revolutionary thoughts we demonstrated for […]. We have organizations here in Berlin—​more than 15, for Syrians about Syria. Those who left are the ones with experience, a lot of creative people, actors, writers, people who love the ideas of freedom. They formed groups in all of Europe. We have a concert on September 21st [2019] with a Syrian orchestra. Everything, a big concert, 40 players and more than 20 singers who sing songs portraying the Syrian culture. We have an activity almost every day here in Berlin. Campus Cosmopolis, for instance, a German union for integration. The Syrian groups include Peace Club for Culture and Sports, Mada organization, and Tamkeen al-​Nisaa. Those are the ones with the most activities in Berlin. Bahraini associations, with a smaller presence compared to the Syrian ones, have been established in diasporas to raise awareness about Bahraini internal affairs, mainly human rights issues. A middle-​aged Bahraini male refugee living in London told his story:

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  23 I applied for political asylum [in 2011] and I got it after a year […]. Then, I decided to be involved in human rights issues related to Bahrain. So I and some other colleagues organized ourselves and established [X…], and since then, I became involved in the human rights issues mainly related to Bahrain and the Gulf in general. It became part of our activities to be involved in different human rights issues in Bahrain. The Tunisian diasporas have also established associations in countries of residence before and after the revolution; some of them had important oppositional roles prior to the revolution. An elderly Islamist participant residing in Sweden explained: “We established an organization called [Y…]. We organized demonstrations in Sweden. The organization had a specific role: fighting the dictator Ben Ali. It still works until today, but its role has diminished.” Two other Islamist participants also established an association after 2011, in south Sweden, to strengthen the social relations between the Tunisian diasporas. They held two meetings, but they did not manage to continue any longer due to the lack of resources; however, they have managed to keep a Facebook page that carries the name of the association, and occasionally publishes social posts. The Egyptians in diasporas also had the opportunity to form associations to interact and share common interest issues. An elderly man living in Denmark, stated: [In our association] we have more than 250 members. We have organized it in a more modern way, which means that we do not hold physical meetings, and do not have an office. We have not held physical meetings for four years—​we do it electronically. We also have a Facebook account […]. Our Homepage and our Facebook account provide me with a lot of opinions and feedback. Associations in diasporas have consequently been important for the interaction between diaspora members and for identity sharing. Communication technology has helped those associations reach a wider area of interaction in diasporas and engagement with homeland affairs. All four diaspora groups, for example, have established diasporic oppositional media channels that reflect their homeland affairs. Another important phenomenon is that communication technology has also allowed individuals such as the Egyptian activist Mohammed Ali, to oppose the political regime in the homeland and to even trigger political demonstrations. Online campaigning and media outlets

A political struggle by the diaspora against Middle Eastern and North African authoritarianism has been inevitable to break the silence imposed on their countries of origin. This struggle undertaken by diaspora members adopts different forms, one of which is based on media channels that campaign against the

24  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal policies followed in their homeland. The exception is Tunisia, which witnessed a degree of freedom following the 2011 revolution up to July 2021. Diaspora members of the three other countries, who are the focus of this research, have used media channels to campaign against authoritarianism in their homelands. Egyptians in the diaspora have been active in using media channels and engaging in political campaigns. A male activist residing in the UK mentioned, “I have written articles for different websites and newspapers. Some time ago, we had the opportunity to organize campaigns in the street. Now, we have nothing but social media.” Until June 2021, Turkey was specifically a place for oppositional television channels established by the Muslim Brotherhood and liberal diaspora groups after 2013. These channels mainly campaigned against the Egyptian political regime, providing their own propaganda style against the official propaganda put forth by the national media in Egypt (Galal, 2021). The Egyptian revolutionaries chose Turkey as their diasporic destination after the 2013 military coup in Egypt, while Bahraini immigrants have mainly settled in the UK (the former occupier of Bahrain) since the failure of the Bahraini revolution of 2011. The Bahraini diaspora has used media channels to campaign against the oppression and to support human rights issues in their homeland. A Bahraini male activist residing in London clarified: Luàluà TV was established in 2011. I was supposed to be involved in it, but I took a different route. It is an independent TV station, looking for Bahrain news only, focusing on people and human rights issues, unlike the official TV in Bahrain which only focuses on the royal family. Regarding Syria, diasporic groups have been prolific in utilizing media channels to campaign against the Syrian regime. Examples of these campaigns are Syria Campaign (https://​thesy​riac​ampa​ign.org/​) and Syria Untold (https://​ syri​aunt​old.com/​en/​v). There are also several Facebook groups for the Syrian diasporas in Denmark, Germany, and Sweden, which bring diaspora members together for social and political reasons. It is also worth noting that the widespread images and videos of the Syrian war around the world have made the Syrian conflict extremely mediated. The Syrian diaspora has played an important role in reporting the conflict, breaking the state monopoly of information imposed within Syria. Digital observation by state powers, however, has become considerably efficient in monitoring diaspora members, especially through social media. A Syrian female activist residing in Berlin talked about her interest in politics, and why she left Syria: “In 2013, my Facebook and e-​mail were hacked by ‘The electronic Syrian army.’ They closed the account because we were reporting the case. I made a new account at the time. I had to leave Syria because of that.” Online campaigning for the Tunisian diaspora has been different from other Arab diasporas. Tunisia achieved a kind of democratic transfer after the revolution (although it did not last long). The interest of the Tunisian diaspora in

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  25 human rights and repression issues almost vanished after the revolution. There has been, instead, a polarization in the diaspora over the conflict between Islamism and secularism, as well as over economic mismanagement in Tunisia. Looking back to the time before the revolution, we find that the Tunisian diaspora (as mentioned by Graziano, 2012) established news websites in opposition to the Ben Ali regime, such as Nawaat, Fil Rouge, Tunisnews, and Réveil Tunisien. A middle-​aged male activist living in Sweden stated: “[in the] early 2000s, our website [Z…] started as a mailing list by sending news to people residing in Tunisia. It was like a newsletter in which Tunisian actors had trust, and they sent us what they wanted to publish.” Online campaigning on social media after the revolution, furthermore, has highlighted important issues. The Facebook group Tunisian in Sweden (Tunisien i Sverige), for example, has campaigned against the corruption of the government in the mining sector. This case witnessed the dismissal of the Tunisian Energy and Mines minister in 2018, based on allegations of corruption. Friendship networks and communication spaces

The Arab diasporas have been engaging in politics through friendship networks and personal contacts with their peers, in contrast to the previous three aspects of engagement in diasporic political communication, which seem official and structured to a large extent. These spaces provide an opportunity for self-​expression and exchange of opinions regarding political affairs. Communication technology has increasingly allowed friends to share views across borders. There are many Syrians in Europe who have been following current events through their personal contacts and friendship networks, either online or offline. A Syrian journalist in Berlin, for example, resorts to his friends to obtain information about what is happening in Syria. Another example is a male Syrian lawyer residing in Berlin who described the network of contacts and friends with whom he interacts regarding politics: I use media channels, individuals in Syria, and personal contacts to get news about Syria. News, WhatsApp, Facebook, Skype; I use them all. I am a member of 39 groups on WhatsApp. Let me see, I have received 5,231 new messages on WhatsApp, because I did not check it today. I do not believe any media. I believe the news, but not the explanations. Everyone has an agenda, and I do not believe their analyses. I take things from the people on the ground. A Bahraini diaspora member had a similar chance to form friendship networks, based on which activities were being organized in the diaspora. Dar Al-​Hekma (NGO established by the Bahraini diaspora in London) has become a place for Bahraini to meet and interact. There were even some social and

26  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal political institutions that could be established based on networks with friends or colleagues, as revealed by a middle-​aged Bahraini activist living in London: I and other colleagues started [after 2011] to draft different reports and research. On a regular basis, we issue statements or reports on any atrocities happening in Bahrain such as persecution of Shi’a in Bahrain, revoking Bahraini nationality, and issues regarding defenders of human rights and the conditions of the prisons in Bahrain. Egyptian diaspora friendship networks have increased in the wake of the 2013 military coup. There were some networks, for example, which started recruiting protesters through Facebook to gather in front of Egyptian embassies or the residences of Egyptian officials going to visit a Western country, with the aim of opposing the public policies followed in Egypt. One of the official statements against the diaspora’s engagement in politics was given by the former Egyptian minister of immigration, Nabila Makram, who said, during a meeting with Egyptian immigrants in Canada: “We cannot say any [negative] word about it [Egypt] abroad; anyone who speaks against Egypt abroad, [this is] what will happen to him, [she passed her finger across her neck—​meaning he or she would have his or her throat cut]” (Egyptian Canadian Coalition for Democracy, 2019). The minister later argued that her speech had been misinterpreted, which, to some extent, alleviated the effect of her statement. There would also be a countermobilization of the regime’s supporters in the diaspora. The Tunisian diaspora, in contrast to other Arab diaspora members, did not feel the anxiety of being observed from their homeland authorities in the first ten years after the 2011 revolution, which allowed them to freely meet their peers and organize social events. Tunisians in Paris, for example, have used social media, Facebook specifically, to organize events that allow socializing and the exchanging of views about homeland affairs. Tunisian groups in Paris meet regularly and talk about different topics including politics. With the largest number of Tunisians living abroad, Paris allows individuals to meet and interact, based on several communication spaces such as Tunisian restaurants, coffee shops, dorms (houses belonging to or inhabited by Tunisians), and mosques. A younger female student living in France talked about her friends in Paris: “I live in [A…] which is a very special residence. I know a lot of Tunisians there, and some of them are my friends […]. I talk to my friends about the conditions in Tunisia—​the political and economic situation.” NGOs also provide another space for Tunisians to socialize and discuss the situation in their homeland. Tunisian groups, for example, participated on the margins of an event held about the Tunisian revolution in Copenhagen in 2019, sponsored by an organization called Oxfam IBIS. Friendship networks are thus another space for political communication among the Tunisian diasporas. These networks usually handle political discussions, knowledge sharing, and voting behavior.

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  27 International activism

The Arab diasporas have engaged in multinational activities over and above homeland affairs. The interest in multinational affairs and the desire to influence homeland politics are the reasons for engagement in international activism. There are some Bahraini activists who have been keen on engaging in multinational activities in relation to their interest in human rights conditions in their homeland. A leading Bahraini male activist living in the UK stated: I’ve been working very closely with Amnesty International, but we recently partnered up with Reprieve [one of the leading human rights organizations in the UK and other countries] […]. My work has also focused on meetings with parliamentarians, leading delegations to Geneva, and working quite intensively with the United Nations’ different branches. I have also been to Brussels many times conducting meetings on resolutions [in relation to] the European Union and so on. Due to the large numbers of members of the Syrian diaspora who recently arrived in Europe, and the humanitarian crisis back home, dozens of organizations and associations that work transnationally have been established. These groups attempt to face the challenges individuals experience in their countries of residence as well as draw attention to the crisis in their homeland by bringing it into the international arena. A Syrian female from Homs based in Copenhagen mentioned: I work with Syrian organizations; we are concerned with the situation in Syria transnationally. [One of these organizations] is called [B…], based in the Netherlands. Another one is called [C…]. I was also at a conference with female activists arranged by an organization called [D…]. Females from all over Europe came and mainly discussed the conditions for former female detainees. Many of them had themselves been imprisoned and know the social stigma attached to it. International activism does not only take the form of working with international organizations and individuals, but may also include interaction with other diaspora members who have similar interests and concerns in several countries. An elderly Egyptian male living in Sweden said: I’m a member in a global network that gets active beyond Sweden—​it includes thousands of Egyptians from all over the world. Many people from all trends—​they all write and express their opinions without fear—​some of them with nicknames, all of them are calling for democracy. Another form of transnational activism practiced by Tunisian diaspora members has widened its international scope and interest, which is not limited

28  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal to specific diasporic communities or specific political themes. A leftist elderly Tunisian male living in France represents this trend, as he established organizations concerned with immigrants’ affairs. He also participated in international events regarding human rights, democracy, justice, and equality. He described his activities: “I organized concerts for all immigrants here in France, Belgium, Germany, Italy, and Spain. I also visited Egypt, Morocco, Algeria, and Syria […]. Our institution is concerned with defending the rights of immigrants, and we organize symposiums against discrimination.” Another example is a leading Tunisian cleric living in Denmark who has engaged in international religious and political activities. He mentioned one of these activities: “at the time of the Danish cartoon crisis [2005–​2006], TV channels came to us like CNN and BBC asking about our situation. I also traveled the world to clarify the problem, and I was hosted by radio and TV channels.” These different approaches to international activism share the aim of drawing attention to the diaspora agenda, lobbying for support among international organizations, decision makers, politicians, and the international public. Lobbying becomes a way of mobilizing for change in the homeland, as Adamson (2002) argues. Conclusion This chapter has identified and analyzed five categories of political communication practiced by the Arab diaspora in Europe (involvement in political parties, association formation, online campaigning, friendship networks, and international activism). These essential activities could be considered an empirically based theorization of the aspects of diasporic political communication. They occur in three dimensions of “diasporic politics” proposed by Laguerre (2006, p. 3): national, international, and transnational. These aspects are also related to the three “spheres of engagement” suggested by Van Hear and Cohen (2017, p. 173): the family sphere (relatives); the community sphere (organizations); and the nation sphere (homeland, host country, and international politics). Looking closely at these five diasporic activities, we can categorize them according to three criteria into meaningful subgroups, which can guide future studies to explore political communication in diaspora: (1) Scope: some activities had a national scope (association formation, online campaigning, and friendship networks); some others had a transnational nature (involvement in political parties); and some others had a global scope (international activism). (2) Structure: some activities were practiced individually (online campaigning and international activism), and some others collectively (involvement in political parties, association formation, and friendship networks). (3) Mechanisms: some activities were mainly practiced through communication channels (online campaigning, friendship networking), while others

Diasporic political communication among Arabs in Europe  29 were less mediated (involvement in political parties, association formation and international activism). Moreover, the Arab’s engagement in diasporic politics also highlights some conclusions worth noting, of which three are the most important. First, although the Arab diaspora investigated in this study has experienced different conditions in each country of origin to a large extent (incomplete democratic transition in Tunisia, failed political transition in Egypt, failed revolution in Bahrain, and destructive war in Syria), as groups, they have practiced similar political communication activities to influence the crises they left behind. This influence is crucial for diasporas in general, being that one of their roles is to have an “impact on the politics of their homelands” (Adamson, 2019, p. 213). Second, although the Arab diasporas are concentrated in different countries in Europe and elsewhere (Germany for Syrians, England for Bahrani, France for Tunisians, and Turkey for Egyptians), they have also engaged as groups in similar political communication activities such as establishing institutions, founding media channels, and forming friendship networks. What mattered most was the effect the number of diaspora members residing in specific countries had on the country of residence, and the facilities provided by that country. A clear example of this is the moral and media support provided by the Turkish government (for its contention with Egypt’s regime) to Egyptian diaspora members who have opposed Egyptian politics (Galal, 2022). Third, the level of engagement of the diaspora members as individuals in the five categories of activities varies, and is based on several factors. The most important of these are political interest, the degree of freedom available, and the political turmoil and instability left behind in the country of origin, as also noted by Laguerre (2006, p. 163). Thus, we suggest that the diaspora members could be divided into three categories, according to their involvement in political communication: (i) activists: the most active members who can influence other members of the diaspora; many of them are leading characters who can establish or influence associations, networks, and media platforms. (ii) collaboratives: they mostly engage and retain an interest in political communication activities, but do not necessarily take leading roles in political institutions or political activities; and (iii) avoidants: many of those who fall under this category used to be interested in politics, but have lost interest as a result of the failure to resolve the political situation and the despair felt in the homeland. The five aspects of diasporic political communication analyzed in this chapter need to be seen as overlapping activities that could be simultaneously practiced or frequented by the same group of people. They could also be considered a starting point for a deeper theorization of each aspect of political communication in diasporas, especially for the diasporic communities coming from unstable countries.

30  Mostafa Shehata and Ehab Galal Notes 1 The project was based at the University of Copenhagen and ran from November 2018 to May 2022. 2 Besides the two authors of this chapter, Thomas Fibiger and Zenia Bredmose Henriksen Ab Yonus have conducted the interviews with Bahraini and Syrians respectively.

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3 The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support for Syrian Armenians The case of Kessab Ohannes Geukjian

Introduction and objectives This research intends to supplement the existing literature on the power of social media in mobilizing the Armenian diaspora worldwide to support and rescue the Syrian Armenian community (SAC), whose identity and physical safety were threatened during the Syrian civil war. Shared identity is crucial for collective action (Ostrom, 1990) and “can contribute to developing a sense of efficacy, psychological empowerment, and a felt need to express identity” (Brinkerhoff, 2009, p. 40). It has been argued that successful mobilization depends on several factors, including a shared social identity (Pratkanis &Turner, 1996), an organizational or networking base (Klandermans & Oegema, 1987), opportunity structures (Esman, 1986), and process factors. Armenian diaspora organizations promote a transnational vision of the Armenian nation, encouraging engagement with Armenia as a “unifying homeland” alongside host states and global networks (Kasbarian, 2018a). There are diverse channels of information and online platforms through which young Armenians could have encountered the independent Armenian republic after the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 (Wilmers & Chernobrov, 2019a). Armenian immigrants in their host countries use the Internet to share an awareness of and connections with other Armenian immigrants worldwide, differentiating a diaspora from a transnational community. Jennifer Brinkerhoff (2009) noted that diaspora organizations provide “member benefits—​material, solidarity, purposive, and cultural identity. Still, any solidary benefits are generated in the physical world, not in cyberspace” (p. 45). The diasporas’ influence on the host country’s foreign policy is most effective when the issues raised by the diasporas correspond with the host country’s national interest and values (see Shain, 1999). Diaspora organizations can also foster bonding and bridging among diaspora subgroups and between the diaspora and the host country to support integration and prevent conflict (Brinkerhoff, 2009, p. 10). In the US, the Armenian-​ American community is well integrated into local economic, social, political, and cultural networks. Indeed, during local and presidential elections, candidates seek the Armenian vote through the community’s local television channels, radios, and newspapers, which can DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-3

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  35 mobilize voters and influence policy. It has been argued that “the potential influence of the Armenian community is confirmed and facilitated by a special and quite effective political organization” (Zarifian, 2014, p. 506). The cultural and identity challenges of the Armenian community in the US are met by two of the most powerful Armenian lobbying groups, which are the Armenian National Committee of America(ANCA) and the Armenian Assembly of America (AAA) (Bolsajian, 2018, p. 34). The ANCA can exercise more political pressure on the US government because it is “the largest, most vocal, best organized, and most well-​funded” (quoted in Zarifian, 2014, p. 506). The present study will focus on using social media platforms in diasporic engagement that took the form of political lobbying for Armenian interests in host countries. We demonstrate the ANCA’s use of social media platforms, the Internet, and Facebook, which share high-​level affordances, like persistence, replicability, and scalability (also called visibility) to request, demand, and encourage action by the US government (Halpern & Gibbs, 2013). This research examines the mobilization efforts of the Armenian-​American interest groups, particularly the ANCA, and the homeland, Armenia, to rescue and protect the SAC from attacks by various Syrian opposition factions supported by Turkey, Saudi Arabia, Qatar, and Western countries and terrorist organizations like the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS) and the Nusra Front. The ANCA purports to represent the interests of Armenians and Armenian-​Americans in the US and to perform substantial work to aid Armenians abroad. The efforts of the ANCA and Armenia will be demonstrated to frame the analysis, and particular attention will be paid to the use of collective memories of persecution. The Armenian genocide of 1915 is the defining moment for the Armenian diaspora. This study borrows from Maurice Halbwachs (1950), who coined the term “collective memory” to understand processes that allow people to identify with historical events as if they were personal experiences and feel connected to the nation through this relationship with the past (see Anderson, 1983; Volkan, 1988). Social media is no longer confined to the borders of nation-​states and has garnered transnational audiences. It has been argued that diasporas use “increasingly sophisticated communications technologies to produce media that operate within countries and across them” to connect easily with others who share a perceived common identity (Karim, 2010, p. 162). In the case of the Syrian Armenians, when their identity and physical safety were threatened, the Internet provided space for diasporic mobilization as it brought the distant homeland close and aided activism for international intervention. New technologies seemed to urge policymakers to respond to the same issues journalists focused on. Yet, policymakers may not be responsive when intervening on behalf of a diaspora may not coincide with the state’s national interests. Internet-​based media appears suited to the needs of diasporic communities in that it supports ongoing communication among widely separated transnational groups. Such media provides “relatively inexpensive, decentralized, interactive and easy-​to-​operate technologies in contrast to broadcasting’s

36  Ohannes Geukjian highly regulated, linear, and capital-​ intensive operations characteristics” (Karim, 2010, p. 164). We offer a study of the power of the Armenian transnational diaspora in international conflict informed by an explicit analytical and conceptual framework and based on a detailed empirical case. Opportunity structures in the host country provide constraints and opportunities that determine what diasporas can and cannot do in each stage of the conflict cycle. Although Armenian communities remain highly diverse, mobilization by diaspora organizations could be defined as helping the homeland and diasporic communities in material ways (for example, through activism and acts of charity) (see Mavroudi, 2018). In addition, multiple layers of diaspora identity and mobilization should be recognized (see Redclift, 2017). The main objective of this study is to provide an accurate examination of the use of social media by the Armenian diaspora community in the US to influence American policymaking. However, the direct power of political lobbying in the host country and the use of the media to influence conflict behavior and “to drive Western great-​power intervention” in Syria should not be exaggerated (Jakobsen, 2000, p. 134). It is noteworthy to stress how diasporas maintain their ethnonational identity and belonging while away from their home country and how they impact the behavior of the conflict in their host country. This research addresses this anomaly and describes diasporas as crucial political actors with a significant impact on politics in general and conflict behavior in particular. In examining the empirical case study of Kessab, we demonstrate that, although transnational political opportunity structures do shape and impact diasporic activities, it is also important to emphasize that diasporas “are not powerless victims of circumstances because they have agency (i.e., capacity), however limited” (Smith, 2007, p. 15). Diasporas function in a trilateral set of relationships that involve the homeland, its government, political movements, and mass media sources of information. Second, the host country, its government, and the various socioeconomic, political, and informational institutions affect their survival. The third set of relationships is the diaspora and its linkages with the homeland, host country, and segments of the diaspora in other countries (Esman, 2009, p. 9). Methodology and method The current study chose a qualitative methodology to express commitment to viewing events and actions from the perspective of the people interviewed. Indeed, “the strategy of taking the subject’s perspective is often expressed in terms of seeing through the eyes of the people who are being studied” (Bryman, 1988/​1996, p. 61). This research sought to go beyond pure description to provide analysis of the environment under examination. Qualitative research exhibits a preference for contextualism in its commitment to understanding events. Thus, the characteristics of qualitative research “are that whatever the

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  37 sphere in which data are being collected, we can understand events only when they are situated in the wider social and historical context” (Bryman, 1988/​ 1996, p. 65). Between July and September 2019 in Armenia, Lebanon, and Syria (Kessab), the data for this study were collected through individual open-​ended interviews and group discussions or conversations to reflect on the situation of Armenians in Syria and the changes and the processes that underpinned their experiences. This research focused on interviews to generate qualitative data. Most of the participants, who consisted of twenty-​two Armenians aged 30 to 55, were raised outside Armenia and were based in one of the three states selected for the study. Two interviews were conducted in August 2018 by telephone with Armenians living in Brussels. The sample size is relatively limited, and it should be acknowledged that the diversity of the diaspora within and beyond these states certainly extends far beyond what was captured. Given the exploratory nature of the research topic and the interest in producing narratives of the interviewees’ experiences, the author relied on a qualitative approach. The aim was not to achieve a representative or exhaustive sample regarding factors such as gender and cultural background. Instead, this research sought to include diverse backgrounds, seeking an understanding of an illustrative range of experiences from different parts of the community. The selection process targeted Armenians engaged in diasporic activities and organizations broadly defined, and those who lived the tragedy, violence, and trauma caused by the Syrian civil war. This selection enabled this study to engage those who collaborated and coordinated with state officials and opposition groups and who actively participated in rescuing the Armenians of Kessab. The aim was to engage with particular experiences of Armenians to identify shared patterns of experience through thematic analysis (Braun &Clarke, 2006). Participants were identified through a snowball approach, which enabled this research to collect data from within organic social networks (Noy, 2008). Accordingly, the study at hand gained access to primary sampling units, such as individuals and organizations, for data generation. The sampling units were not bound by place, space, and location. A consolidated procedure was followed to involve local gatekeepers before the field stage. Relying on a variegated group of informants (such as party members and organizations, professionals, and activists) created diversity among the sample members. The language was not a barrier to understanding the interviewees because the interviews took place in the Armenian language, and subsequently, the excerpts were translated into English. Interview questions were designed to stimulate personal reflection on the Armenian community’s involvement, engagement with the region’s political developments, and what being Armenian means. The questions prompted the interviewees to express themselves on subjects they might have never thought of or volunteered information about. Concerning ethical issues and guidelines in qualitative interviewing and given the vulnerability of those being interviewed, we ensured that the interviewees maintained confidentiality and that their names were changed to

38  Ohannes Geukjian maintain anonymity. Thus, the identity of the individuals was separated from the information they provided. While planning this research project, the potential benefits or contributions of the project were weighed against its costs to the individual participants to avoid “affronts to dignity, embarrassment, loss of trust, and loss of autonomy and self-​determination” (Nachmias & Nachmias, 1996, p. 81). Structurally, this research is divided into four parts. The first part introduces the importance of social media in mobilizing Armenian identity and the study’s objectives. The second part examines the profile of the SAC. Part three investigates the use of social media by the Armenian-​American diaspora organizations to influence US policy. Finally, part four discusses and analyzes the case study of Kessab during the Syrian civil war and the role and power of the media in mobilizing diasporic and international support. In this part, emphasis was placed on social media platforms to mobilize public opinion in favor of Kessab and the political influence of the ANCA in Congress to get positive results. The profile of the Syrian Armenian community (SAC) Given the general comments on diaspora organizations’ use of social media to mobilize identity, it is appropriate to review the SAC. Armenian refugees who were displaced to Lebanon and Syria, as a consequence of the Armenian genocide that was planned and committed by the Ottoman Turks in 1915, formed the Armenian diaspora in these countries. It has been argued that for diasporas, “the past is widely seen as defining their present as many of them trace their dispersion and sense of collective identity to traumatic events and narratives of loss” (Chernobrov &Wilmers, 2019a, p. 3). For the Armenian diaspora, the genocide of 1915 is widely recognized as the defining and foundational narrative that explains the establishment of this diaspora, as well as its trajectory in time and space (see Kasbarian, 2018b; Laycock, 2016). Identity is at the core of diaspora and its influence on homeland and host land. Four significant diaspora elements combine to influence diaspora identity, including “a distinct language, historical memory, a national religion, and the habitual status of a minority in larger societies” (Safran, 1999, pp. 280–​281). In the early 1920s, the Armenian communities had no ambition to get involved in public affairs in the post-​Ottoman Levant (Migliorino, 2008, p. 52). However, in 1924, when the French mandatory power in the Levant granted the Armenians citizenship, it created the conditions for their inclusion among the confessional groups of the new Lebanese and Syrian political systems. Therefore, Armenian communities needed to cultivate various kinds of social capital, as social capital “is represented in the development of a diaspora community, complete with various types of diaspora associations or more formal organizations” (Brinkerhoff, 2009, p. 37). Hrair Dekmejian (1997) wrote that after World War I, Syria became home to over “100,000 refugees, emerging as the fourth largest center of the Armenian

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  39 dispersion after the Soviet Union, the United States, and Iran” (p. 425). Before the outbreak of the Syrian insurgency in March 2011, which escalated into civil war, 60,000 to 70,000 Armenians lived in Syria (Markosian, 2013). Most Armenians lived in Aleppo, which became the Armenian community’s most robust center. Others lived in Damascus, Hama, Homs, Raqqa, Latakia, Tartous, Jarablus, Deir al Zour, and in the cities and towns of al-​Hasaka, al Qamishli, Ras al-​Ayn, Tel Abyad, Yaqubieh, Ghenemieh, Aramo, and Kessab along the Syrian-​Turkish border. William Safran (1991) noted that the conditions of the Armenian diaspora in Syria and elsewhere closely resembled that of the Jews. Armenian national identity and the solidarity of the Armenian community were based on a common language and religion, “the collective memory of national independence in a circumscribed territory, and remembrance of betrayal, persecution, and genocide” (p. 84). Using Gabriel Sheffer’s (2003) classification of diasporas, indeed, the Armenian diaspora is a state-​ linked ethnonational diaspora that aims to maintain its national identity in the host country. Nurturing the community and supporting the homeland are two additional important characteristics of the comprehensive profile of the Armenian ethnonational diaspora (p. 78). After Armenia gained its independence in 1991, “the new generation has been able to engage in new ways of relating to the homeland’s past and present, including digital media and multiple sponsored opportunities for diaspora youth to visit the independent Armenian state” (Chernobrov &Wilmers, 2019b, p. 2). During the subsequent decades in Syria, Armenian community leaders sought to maintain a balance between integration and preservation of their culture and identity. In an increasingly digital world, young diasporic Armenians have been reconnecting with the homeland and diaspora members. Still, the Internet has provided space for diasporic mobilization as it has brought the distant homeland close and aided diasporic activism, especially when the SAC’s physical safety and identity were threatened. The Armenian-​American diaspora organizations Armenian migration to the US occurred long before and after the Armenian genocide of 1915. Monique Bolsajian (2018) contends that “the Armenian diaspora’s identity is inseparable from the Armenian people’s political interests and complex history and influences the way they create social and political space for themselves in the U.S.” (p. 30). Transnationalism highlights the diaspora’s involvement in both the homeland and the host society. The Armenian diaspora in the US is a “well organized and well-​financed community, which made it significant on the political chessboard” (quoted in Zarifian. 2014, p. 505). It is also politically active, influential, and sophisticated, with crucial constituencies in several electorally essential states like California, Florida, Michigan, and New York. The Armenian diaspora has cultivated social capital associated with various diaspora associations and organizations

40  Ohannes Geukjian like the ANCA and the AAA, whose political lobbying and advocacy power have been widely recognized in the US and diasporic communities. They owe their influence to the knowledge, skill, and financial capital acquired in the host society and to their impact on the host country’s foreign policy vis-​à-​vis their homeland (Koslowski, 2005, p. 11). The ANCA and the AAA have effective Internet sites and YouTube channels, publish interviews, and organize meetings and roundtables. The ANCA, which represents itself as “the largest and most influential Armenian-​ American grassroots political organization,” counts on many supporters and sympathizers (www.anca.org). To influence policy and facilitate access to members of Congress, the Armenian lobby uses social media platforms, including Facebook, organizes massive e-​mail and petition campaigns, and works through formal channels, such as elected officials and the mass media. Unlike social media platforms with built-​in reposting features (share, like, re-​blog), Facebook affords high-​level persistence, replicability, and scalability (also called visibility). Empirical case study Before this study examines the ANCA’s political lobbying, it is vital to refer briefly to the conditions and the threats that Syrian Armenians faced during the Syrian civil war. In the early spring of 2011, when the Syrian uprising started, the leadership of the SAC did not take a position and refrained from making statements. The leadership never showed up on television or in the media in support of the regime. However, when violence escalated between the regime and the opposition, particularly in Aleppo in early 2012, the SAC adopted a policy of positive neutrality mainly because the Armenians of Aleppo were dragged into the increasingly sectarian civil war in the country. The SAC did not participate in the uprising because they feared an Islamic takeover. Yet, Islamic fighters increasingly targeted Christians for their perceived support of the regime. According to media activists in Aleppo, the Armenian leadership turned down a government offer to arm the Armenian community. Still, some Armenians accepted weapons from the regime to join pro-​government militia groups known as the “popular committees” (Armstrong &Williams, 2012, p. 8). Speaking via telephone from Aleppo, the spokesman for the Armenian Prelacy, Jirayr Reyissian, reported that “some armed groups were supporting the army and there were some Armenians among them, we had nothing to do with that” (Armstrong &Williams, 2012, p. 8). It is important to note that Armenian schools, churches, and residential areas, particularly the districts of Suleimania, al-​Azizia, and al-​Midan, were heavily damaged by shelling and clashes between the government forces and the opposition. The bloodshed led to renewed calls for the homeland government to help evacuate thousands of Armenians in Aleppo.

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  41 Seeking help from the homeland could be attributed to collective memories of violence and genocide that “underlie diasporic notions of loss or the regaining of homeland, return, and more generally, belonging” (Chernobrov &Wilmers, 2019b, p. 2). Besides being bound by collective memories and shared historical experience, seeking help from the homeland’s government could be interpreted as the impact of the past on the diaspora’s present as a sense of duty arising from the “need to atone for leaving” (Wilcock, 2018, p. 373). The historical memories and the experiences of the Armenians during the Syrian civil war are related directly to our sampling and analytical strategies. The difficult conditions of the SAC and the debates about their safety dominated the broader transnational Armenian world. By 2013, more than 10,000 Armenians had fled to Armenia and applied for residency (McGuinness, 2013). For its part, Armenia was sending humanitarian aid to Syrian Armenians, helping them stay in Syria and survive. The behavioral consequences of survival were similar for all Syrian Armenians, that is, physical survival. It is important to stress that the Armenian government was officially neutral in the Syrian civil war and had not formally evacuated Armenians from the country because Armenia depended on its strong diasporic communities from the Middle East to the United States for remittances and political lobbying for Armenia’s interests. For example, in the US, diasporic organizations promote Armenian causes through financial contributions and by trying to influence US policymaking (Newhouse, 2009, p. 88). The ANCA was especially important for political activists who illustrated “continuous involvement in a triadic relationship between the diaspora, the host country and the homeland” (Sheffer, 1996, p. 8). Members of the SAC experienced their share of suffering, murder, kidnapping and displacement because of the conflict, and the SAC’s identity, physical safety, and security were threatened. ISIS destroyed the Armenian Genocide Memorial Church in Deir al-​Zour, which housed the remains of the victims of the Armenian genocide of 1915, a violent act strongly condemned by the diasporic communities and Armenia (Staff, Armenian Weekly, September 21, 2014). A diaspora organization in Brussels, the European Armenian Federation for Justice and Democracy (EAFJD), a source of data collection and analysis for this study, tried to mediate with radical groups to release kidnapped Armenians. Vazken, who was affiliated with EAFJD, disclosed the following to the author: We sent one of our staff, fluent in Arabic and Kurdish, to negotiate with radical Islamist and Kurdish groups to release the kidnapped and refrain from targeting Armenians. EAFJD’s efforts remained invisible in the media because the mission was risky and dangerous, but we dared to do so to explain to radical Islamist groups that the Christian Armenians were not their enemies. Sometimes we succeeded in our mission, and sometimes we did not. (Author interview, 2018)

42  Ohannes Geukjian As a tool for communication and mobilization among diasporic communities, the Internet was ideally suited for connecting diasporans who were geographically scattered and removed from the homeland. The online media provided an important arena where diasporic solidarity and consciousness were formed and expressed. As Brinkerhoff (2009) reiterates, one could expect information technology “to have significant impact on diaspora communities and their ability to mobilize for community building, economic, and political purposes” (p. 12). In the case of the SAC, online media was heavily utilized to maintain ethnic cohesion, and compellingly “changed the dynamics of diaspora, allowing for qualitatively and quantitatively enhanced linkages” (Karim, 1998, p. 12). For the SAC, the direct power of the media on the situation at hand aimed to mobilize international support and garner protection for the Christian minorities, including the Armenians, in Syria and the Middle East in general. In March 2014, the Turkish government supported the attack on the Armenian town of Kessab in the Latakia province. This attack was a turning point for the Armenian diasporic communities to mobilize public opinion and ask the international community to act and save the Armenians of Aleppo and Kessab. According to news reports, the armed incursion began on March 21 with rebels associated with Al-​ Qaeda’s Nusra Front, Ansar al-​ Sham, and Harakat Sham al-​Islam crossing the Turkish border and attacking the Armenian population of Kessab. Having supported the Syrian regime diplomatically since 2011, Russia urged the UN Security Council “to discuss the situation in Kessab and give it a principled evaluation” (RT, April 1, 2014). The government of Armenia also called on the UN to protect Kessab, declaring that the attack was a threat to Armenian identity as it evoked the collective historical memories of the Armenian genocide of 1915, and accusing Turkey of allowing Jihadists to cross its border and attack Kessab. Drawing on the theoretical frameworks of “post-​memory” (Hirsch, 2012) and “past presencing” (Macdonald, 2013), Armenia related the threat to Armenian identity to the critical event. Indeed, this was the third time that the Armenians of Kessab were forced to flee. The Armenians of Kessab linked the attack on their town to the 1909 and 1913 Turkish attacks on Kessab when they were forced to flee and leave behind movable and unmovable belongings. Yet, the remembrance of the chosen trauma of 1909 and 1913 was a past of an “ahistorical kind” (Redclift, 2017) as it became reworked for the present and gained new meanings (Soysal, 2000). Macdonald (2013) described this as “past presencing,” or how the past was present or was made present by the Armenians of Kessab through experience, representation, performance, and imagining. This redefined meaning is in line with the temporal dimensions of the sampling that focuses on experiences and practices at particular times. For its part, Ankara slammed the accusations and condemned the charges as “confrontational political propaganda” (RT, April 1, 2014). Concerning the units of analysis, Hrach, Bedros, and other participants explained the strong influence of the past on their behavior in the present,

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  43 giving a new meaning to survival and cultural endurance, and linguistic and historical links with other diasporic communities. Beyond remembering the trauma of 1909 and 1913 as historical events, notions of physical survival, extermination, war, and violence emerged in how the participants spoke about their similar experiences during the attack on Kessab. For them, the past still influenced individual behaviors, perceptions, and attitudes, and they firmly believed that the Armenian diaspora would protect the Armenian identity of Kessab to ensure the physical survival of its Armenian inhabitants. A Kessab resident, Hrach Chegelian, told Russia Today that “the bombardment started early morning. We struggled to save our son. When we left our home, we took nothing from our belongings” (RT, April 2, 2014). On the day of the attack, the author talked by telephone to two members of the Kessab Armenian community, Joseph and Hagop, who refused to leave the town because they were born and raised there. Kessab symbolized Armenian identity in the diaspora. Both members said that “most of the Kessab inhabitants were evacuated and had reached safety in Latakia” (author interview, 2014). Indeed, with the help of local self-​defense forces and the local Armenian community leadership, some 670 families, the majority of the population of Kessab, were evacuated to safer areas in neighboring Bassit and Latakia, where they took refuge in the Armenian Orthodox Church. The town was home to over 2,000 ethnic Armenians (Staff, Armenian Weekly, March 23, 2014). The Armenian Prelacy of Aleppo and the Syrian Red Cross provided relief and assistance to those families. The role played by social media and Facebook was significant in calling for action to save the Armenians of Kessab. Certainly, “the significance of the Facebook usage and experience fueled the worldwide involvement” of the Armenian diaspora (Howard, 2011, p. 193). Diaspora organizations, like the ANCA, and their activities “did not foster their ethnic attachments per se but signaled that they belonged to a community and identity with extended national boundaries and regional territories” (Abdelhady, 2011, p. 117). Reports about Kessab rapidly spread on social media networks, with allegations of extremists perpetrating brutal atrocities against ethnic Armenians. Viral videos, social network platforms, and instantaneous connections brought to the attention of the world the security threat and the suffering of Aleppo’s and Kessab’s Armenian communities. Concerning the event, this study argues that Facebook afforded high-​range circulation of content (scalability or visibility) and interactivity and “made account managers more directly responsible for integrating and engaging audiences into their narration” (Poell, 2016, p. 1001). Visual narrative analysis and related posts on the Kessab attack focused on how the particular narrator “assembled and sequenced events and used language and/​or visual images to communicate meaning, that was, make particular points to a particular audience to influence international public opinion and mobilize support” (Riessman, 2008, p. 11). This research borrows from Tiidenberg (2015), who incorporated Rose’s (2001, 2016) three sites of meaning-​making—​production, the image itself, and audiencing—​to emphasize that, on social media, the meaning was made in

44  Ohannes Geukjian images, videos, emojis, captions, hashtags, and comments, but in particular, in the convergence of those. The news also provoked a Twitter storm, with the celebrity Kim Kardashian, Cher, and Jared Leto endorsing humanitarian causes and supporting the call for help from Kessab’s Armenians (RT, April 2, 2014). With a clear reference to the genocide, Kardashian tweeted, “please let’s not let history repeat itself!!! Let’s get this trending!!! #Save Kessab #Armenian Genocide” (RT, April 2, 2014). The special hashtags #SaveKessab, #SaveAleppo, and #ArmenianGenocide became popular social media tools to mobilize world opinion. Direct visual references included images of genocide and visualization of genocide on posters. Direct textual references included captions and hashtags like #ArmenianGenocide. The collective memory of the genocide that underlined diasporic notions of loss comprised the very center of the diasporan Armenian identity (Panossian, 2002). The immense propaganda campaign on social media took a huge volume. We argue that the ANCA, another unit of analysis, linked the Kessab events with the Armenian genocide. Thousands of Armenian Americans contacted President Barack Obama and their senators and representatives in response to an ANCA Action Alert (www.anca.org/​sav​ekes​sab) urging immediate condemnation of the attacks against the civilian population of Kessab and, specifically, Turkey’s role in facilitating those attacks. House Representatives Adam Schiff (D-​Calif.) and Brad Sherman (D-​Calif.) shared their concern regarding the Kessab attacks on social media, joining with concerned Armenians around the world in an effort led by the Armenian Youth Federation to trend the hashtag #SaveKessab (Armenian Weekly, March 2014). Representative Sherman tweeted “urging the State Department to help Armenians in Syria. Turkey must take immediate action to help prevent attacks on Armenians. #SaveKessab” (Armenian Weekly, March 2014). The campaign took a political turn when, on March 24, the ANCA asked Obama’s administration and Congress to exert pressure on Turkey to stop facilitating the attacks by extremist Islamic groups on Kessab. The ANCA chairman, Ken Hachikian, issued a strongly worded letter calling Obama to direct his secretary of state, the US ambassador to Turkey, and the US ambassador to the UN to demand that “Turkey halt the cross-​border attacks on Kessab that have forced the immediate civilian evacuation of the area and led to the looting of properties and the desecration of churches” (Asbarez, 2014). Hachikian wrote: The ANCA has received urgent appeals from Americans in cities across the United States gravely concerned about family members and friends in Kessab, a historically Christian Armenian region in Syria. ABC and CDS news report that the extremists are part of the Nusra Front, a wing of al-​ Qaeda, a United States-​designated terrorist group. The United States has the power to stop Turkey’s provocation and assistance to these radical groups and send a clear message that targeted military strikes against innocent

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  45 civilians are unacceptable under any circumstances and a clear violation of international law. (Asbarez, 2014) US State Department Deputy Secretary Marie Harf, in a press briefing, announced, we are deeply troubled by recent fighting and violence that is endangering the Armenian community of Kessab and has forced many to flee. There are far too many innocent civilians suffering as a result of the war. All civilians, as well as their places of worship, must be protected. (Armenian Weekly, March 2014) Despite the international social media campaign—​ #SaveKessab—​ that garnered broad media attention to the tragedy, with over 100,000 people tweeting about the crisis and tens of thousands calling for immediate US and UN action (Armenian Weekly, April 2014), the US failed to condemn Turkey’s role in the attack, a stance that could be attributed to Obama’s unclear policy in the Middle East. In Kessab, the government forces were ineffective in defending the town. The attackers took a number of Armenians hostage, robbed homes, desecrated the town’s three Armenian churches, pillaged local residences, and occupied the town and its surrounding villages. Syrian state television referred to the fighting in a breaking news alert, saying that the Syrian army was “tackling attempts by terrorist gangs to infiltrate from Turkish territory and attack border crossings on northern Latakia province” (quoted in Armenian Weekly, March 23, 2014). Yet, all the interviewees disclosed to the author that: Syrian army officials located in the area did not respond to our telephone calls to defend us from an imminent attack that was being prepared from the Turkish side of the border. Apparently, some army officials were complicit in the attack on Kessab so that the regime could manipulate the issue of protecting the Christian minorities in Syria at a time when the regime was isolated by the international community and was in dire need of external support against the terrorist groups. (Author interviews, 2019) Most interviewees said: When the attack began, we were left alone to determine our fate. The Syrian army positions were destroyed from the Turkish side by artillery fire. The unarmed inhabitants of Kessab had no choice but to seek refuge in Latakia. We could not defend the town because trying to do so was suicide. The number of the attackers who were approaching Kessab was in the

46  Ohannes Geukjian thousands. We relied on the Armenian diaspora to help us by advocating international intervention. (Author interviews, 2019) For the interviewees, the vitality of the diaspora in mobilizing international support was beyond doubt. Their family histories and experiences, conflict, and the loss of Kessab that were bound together had become an important element of Armenian diaspora identity. The participants explained their specific attachment to Kessab and the need to protect Armenian identity there as a symbolic fight for survival. They emphasized that the importance of Kessab to Armenians was directly connected to the genocide and that its loss would represent a loss of human life, land, and culture associated with the Armenian nation. The Armenian “diasporic communities should mobilize and advocate international support for our cause so that we can return to our lands. The Armenians of Kessab were evacuated unwillingly. I feel that we are right in this regard and that it is important to liberate Kessab” (author interview, 2019). Many Armenian Americans had relatives and friends in Kessab. In March 2014, the ANCA joined a delegation of the Armenian American community and religious representatives to forcefully urge the US government to take immediate action to end the vicious onslaught on Kessab. During the meeting, the Armenian American community representatives stressed that “the U.S. has a unique responsibility to protect the citizens of Kessab, especially since a large proportion of them have American families desperately seeking to provide protection and refuge to them” (Armenian Weekly, March 2014). A participant disclosed to the author that “after the liberation of Kessab by the Syrian Army in June 2014, irregular armed groups affiliated with the Syrian Army looted the remaining houses of the town and prevented the residents from returning quickly to their places” (author interview, 2019). For most of the participants, liberating Kessab was seen as the responsibility of the host state, with enough room for Armenian diaspora initiatives. However, the host state was mostly criticized for not prioritizing people’s security in conflict and for being indecisive in repelling the attack on Kessab. Political lobbying by using social media platforms and in-​person meetings with congressmen was a priority for the ANCA to mobilize support for Kessab’s Armenians and condemn the “depopulation of the historical Armenian town.” On April 8, 2014, on Capitol Hill, Congressman Schiff was joined by congressional Armenian Caucus Co-​Chair Frank Pallone (D-​ NJ), representative Judy Chu (D-​Calif.), Jim Costa (D-​Calif.), Anna Eshoo (D-​Calif.), and Brad Sherman (D-​Calif.) as well as ANCA Executive Director Aram Hamparian to support calls upon the House and Senate intelligence committees to investigate Turkey’s role in the attack on Kessab. In the news conference, Hamparian noted: “we should have a zero-​tolerance policy for any NATO ally [Turkey] working with al-​Qaeda-​linked groups to attack religious minorities in the Middle East.” He also encouraged Americans to join in the call for a congressional Intelligence Committee investigation by taking

The power of the media in mobilizing diaspora support  47 action at www.anca.org/​sav​ekes​sab (Armenian Weekly, April 2014). Evidently, diasporic communities of identity were explicitly maintained and mobilized to influence international public opinion and build political support for human rights and political freedoms (Brinkerhoff, 2009, p. 10). The ANCA’s influence on US foreign policy was not effective because the issue it raised did not correspond with American national interests. Kessab was liberated in June 2014. Yet, as a result of emigration and the loss of resources and capabilities, it was unlikely that the SAC would be able to recover the cultural and economic life it enjoyed before 2011. Protecting and maintaining Armenian identity in Syria would continue to challenge the diaspora. Conclusion This study explored the relationship between diaspora, identity, mobilization, and the Armenian diaspora’s use of social media platforms to influence international public opinion. It argued that communal solidarity and consciousness were maintained when the SAC’s identity and physical safety were threatened. For most participants, collective memories of the genocide as shaping Armenian diasporic identity were a recurring theme in interviews in all four locations. Remembering traumatic history was evidence of how strongly the participants experienced past presencing. There was no break from the past when the identity of the Armenians of Kessab was threatened. More importantly, the power and role of social media platforms were significant in maintaining solidarities that extended beyond transnational alliances to include Syrian Armenians. We argued that the role of Facebook and Twitter was significant in mobilizing public opinion to sympathize with a particular cause, in this case, the safety of the Armenians of Kessab. This study demonstrated how social media platforms requested and encouraged action to save the Armenians of Kessab and suggested that online media could influence decision-​making at the level of governments and on the collective effort of a diaspora in international relations. As discussed in this study, the role of the media and the transnational existence of the Armenian diaspora tried to influence events in Syria. The empirical case of Kessab demonstrated how social media platforms and the Internet help diasporic communities mobilize in new ways in response to critical events, like conflict, in the diaspora and stimulate reflection on such events. This study argued that the power of social media was crucial in mobilizing the Armenian diaspora and the homeland to intervene to rescue Kessab. This study also emphasized diaspora organizations’ role and power and lobbying tactics to influence policymaking in their host societies. For example, the ANCA tried to influence the foreign policy of the US through congressional action when the identity, interests, and safety of the Armenians of Kessab were threatened. Yet, the ANCA’s mobilization of American opinion was partially effective because holding Turkey responsible for the events in Kessab did not correspond with America’s national interests.

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4 Beirut from the ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to the August 4 explosion in 2020 Transnational solidarity, social media and affective communities Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha

Introduction This chapter examines the online media communication of Lebanese musicians over the time span of a year, covering the start of the Lebanese revolution on October 17, 2019, through to October 2020, the aftermath of the devastating explosion in the port on August 4 of the same year. It argues that digital media communication platforms serve as carriers of a central affective dimension that intertwines the material, political, social and sonic worlds. This entanglement enables a new form of politics of solidarity to emerge from the interplay between online–​offline worlds. Digital media platforms are central in four main aspects. First, they allows for the creation of communal virtual spaces for Lebanese people, spanning across a vast geographical area. In such virtual spaces, people are ‘copresent’, which enables me to talk about the existence of a transnational Lebanese community instead of Lebanon and its diaspora. Second, they allow musicians, and society at large, to share online–​offline narratives of identity and belonging that occur both in Lebanon as well transnationally. Third, they facilitate the sharing of personal and collective memories affectively infused by intimate visual and emotional imaginaries that, in turn, allow for the emergence of transnational solidarity movements. Last, digital media platforms enable musicians to cope with precarity, loss and anxiety in times of crisis and eventually, through online–​offline grassroots mobilisation, give way to a politics of solidarity. This chapter combines two main methodological tools: fieldwork research (Beirut, November–​ December 2019) and digital ethnography (2020) combining two different types of ethnographic data, interviews and analysis of social media platforms, such as Twitter, Instagram and Facebook, of individual musicians and grassroots organisations This combined methodology attempts to efficiently portray the current Lebanese sociopolitical and economic crisis as it is played out on digital and social media, and to do so through the critical voices of key musicians in contemporary Lebanese music scenes. However, it is crucial to recognise from the outset that the time frame that is the focus of this chapter is a highly sensitive one for all Lebanese. I have attempted to approach DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-4

52  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha individuals and specific events during this period with empathy, recognising their need for introspection and self-​reflection. Therefore, although my sources are vast, only a few are named. This chapter is divided into four sections. First, it discusses how musicians’ digital media presence contributes to the creation of affective digital communities, enhancing ideals of sociopolitical mobilisation in the Middle East. It does so by analysing events in Lebanon drawing upon literature from the fields of cultural anthropology (Swedenburg & Lavie, 1996; Swedenburg, 2011), sociology (Liccope, 2004; Majeed, 2019b), political science (Drott, 2018; Mouawad, 2017), digital cultures (Papacharisi, 2014; Moreno Almeida, 2017a,b), and ethnomusicology (Rice, 2001; Nooshin, 2017; Tsioulakis, 2020). Second, it focuses on the film In Case of Revolution Break the Glass, created by a team of Lebanese artists comprising film-​maker Remi Maksoud, actress Wafa Celine Halawi, and composer and performer Youmna Saba. This case study illustrates the double bind of the usage of digital platforms in the cultural industries. On the one hand, they serve to diversify artistic labour and, on the other hand, they can limit artistic creativity as Lebanese artists may feel compelled to ‘play out’, or fetishise stereotypical ideas of the Middle East for Western audiences particularly those associated with ‘resistance’ and ‘resilience’. The third section analyses the ‘Twitter storm’ that ensued following the censorship of the verse ‘revolution is born from the womb of sorrow’ (‘An Ath-​ thawrat Tūlidu Min Rahm Al-​Azen’) from the iconic song ‘Ya Beirut, Ya Sit ad-​Duniy’ (Oh Beirut, oh lady of the world), by Majida Roumi, a song evocative of the collective trauma and hope that followed the end of the Lebanese civil war. Digital platforms played a fundamental role in disseminating, enhancing and forging a renewed momentum for the anti-​ governmental outcry enabled by the transnational sharing of affective online messages. In turn, these recontextualised Roumi’s 1990s post-​civil war song, giving it a new historical significance, and affective memories that expanded to include the explosion in the port of Beirut on August 4, 2020. The fourth section examines how digital platforms’ affective power, in the aftermath of the explosion, enabled the formation of crucial grassroots movements of solidarity, like the Beirut Musicians Fund, which bridged the gap left by state inaction. From ‘resistance’ to solidarity: Lebanese music, digital media and political activism in the October 17 revolution The ‘October 17’ revolution1 was sparked by a monthly governmental tax of six dollars that was imposed on the social media communications service WhatsApp, in addition to a simultaneous rise in the price of tobacco and petrol. Hours after the imposition of the tax, citizens took to the streets, demonstrating a discontentment that had been brewing for years. According to the BBC, Lebanon has the third-​highest public debt-​to-​gross domestic product ratio in the world at 150% and a rate of 37% of youth unemployment, and 27%

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  53 of its population lives below the threshold of poverty line set by the World Bank. The population had risen up against the dysfunctionality of a government that has continuously been pushing it into poverty.2 Protesters from all backgrounds chanted ‘Killum Ya3ni Killum’, meaning ‘all of them, we mean all of them’, demanding the resignation of the entire Lebanese political class. This chant turned into a slogan and, online, turned into a trending Twitter hashtag. Much has been written about mediatisation and the role of digital and social media in building momentum for popular insurgence movements in the Middle East and North Africa (Swedenburg, 2011). LeVine (2013) highlighted the change in centres of power, the formation of new political and affective subjectivities and the opportunity for establishing new global connections (p. 192). LeVine (2013) points out that insurgence movements in Egypt and in Palestine demonstrated ‘the absolute importance of the ability to move from the virtual to the physical world in the process of transforming political subjectivities, as well as the role of corruption in the functioning of the broader system’ (p. 196). Ted Swedenburg, in his study of the Egyptian revolution of 2011, highlighted how the music and the ’troubadours of the revolution’ played an essential role in ‘awakening a sense of possibility’ that allowed for a glimpse of a future ‘no longer coloured by hopeless cynicism’ (Swedenburg, 2011, p. 19), which aligns with the arguments for an emergence of a politics of solidarity put forward later in this chapter. The association between digital and social media and popular insurgence was a common feature not just of the Arab Spring (2010–​2011) but also of the Greek crisis (2007–​2009), the Occupy Wall Street movement (2011), the Me Too movement (2017), Black Lives Matter (2012–​2020), and even the Make America Great Again slogan of the Donald Trump election campaign (2016). Social media platforms like Twitter and Facebook played a fundamental role in the organisation, dissemination and harnessing of participation simultaneously online and offline as means to circumvent governmental surveillance of these leaderless movements (Drott, 2018). Drott (2018), in his analysis of music in relation to social movements, examined the drumming circles in the Occupy Wall Street movement, stating, [I]‌f what is deemed important is the need for movements to mobilise resources in pursuit of their agendas, then music’s significance will be located in its power to grab hold of public attention, foster affective alliances, and—​in certain cases—​to exploit these powers as a way of recruiting participants or generating revenue. (Corte & Edwards, 2008, and Lahusen, 1996 in Drott, 2018, p. 628) In the case of Lebanon, between October 17, 2019, and the aftermath of the explosion of August 4, 2020, music has swayed into and out of the several meanings and metaphors proposed by Rice (2001). However, its most fundamental role throughout this year was that of carrier of the affects, both on and

54  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha offline, that impacted human life at the time of an intense socio-​economic and political crisis. Music, as Cristina Moreno Almeida (2017b), in her study of rap beyond resistance in Morocco, argued, has not been ‘a tool of resistance, but a creative expression’ (p. 14) dominated by aesthetic choices that can convey everything ranging from being part of a social and public sphere, to make and market a career in the industry and also, on occasions, to manifest discontent with dominant sociopolitical and economic cultures (Moreno Almeida, 2017b, p. 14). I argue that, if and when music does engage in acts of ‘resistance’ or ‘insurgence’, it does so not exclusively by genre. Although rap and hip-​hop culture have been historically associated with these notions, as Moreno Almeida (2017b) and Nooshin (2017) aptly point out, ‘resistance’ is not the metaphor in these musical cultures; the reverse can be true. As we will see in the case studies presented later, mainstream popular music can also re-​enact insurgency, hope and solidarity when appropriated by communities at a given point in time, as is the case of Majida Roumi’s song ‘Ya Beirut’.3 Likewise, the soundtrack created by Youmna Saba for the dance film In Case of Revolution Break the Glass, directed and performed by Remi Maksoud and Wafa Celine Halawi, does not fit within the genres of music associated with dissent, insurgency and ‘resistance’. The temptation to approach Middle Eastern music solely as a tool for ‘representation’ is ubiquitous and results in neglecting at least two other fundamental aspects. The first is that it is an important means for the reconfiguration of affects through artistic self-​reflection brought about during ‘times of crisis’, characterised by the impossibility of the anticipation of the future and an uncanniness of the presence moment (Bryant & Daniel, 2019, p. 43). The second is that music is an essential means of financial subsistence, that is, work, which was particularly crucial to take into account given the backdrop of dire Lebanese economic crisis during and after 2020. The notion of work here refers directly to ‘paid labour’, whilst also assuming the nuanced distinctions that define ‘successful work’ in music, as proposed by Ioannis Tsioulakis (2020) in his ethnography of jazz musicians in Athens before and after the 2008 global financial crisis. According to Tsioulakis (2020), ‘ “successful work,” is judged, as illustrated earlier, by a variety of other factors’, such as permanent rates, networking skills, status and recognition and range of employment options (p. 50). Working as musician in Lebanon is a risky activity, underpinned by political choices that are ‘embedded in social life, personal freedoms, in the family and home as well as in the public space’ (Laachir & Talajooy, 2013, p. 10). However, for most of my interlocutors, working in music was a decision made with the awareness that it entailed risks not only to self-​subsistence and financial marginality, but also that artistic exposure could also afford them greater social-​ political agency, harnessed particularly through social media presence. In December 2019, most musicians I knew, were active on multiple music scenes in Beirut that ranged from classical to experimental and alternative.

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  55 During the revolution, some of them, such as the electro-​acoustic duo Two or the Dragon, which was formed by Abed Kobeissy and Ali Hout, worked as performers during the day and engaged in in situ activism in the evenings and weekends, and online, mostly on Facebook, whenever they had a break from rehearsals. Music for them, as for many others, was work, above all else. But it was also a creative expression that enabled them to belong to a cosmopolitan transnational artistic community which afforded them a higher degree of social visibility and agency. However, more than anything else, music-​making was a means of economic subsistence in a volatile country dominated by work precarity, and not just a tool of resistance. Looking at how musicians claimed and inhabited the digital world between October 17 and two months after the August 4 explosion in Beirut will allow us to see how the digital intertwines with the material, social and sonic worlds whilst carrying the affective dimensions of the events transnationally (Pink, 2016; Papacharisi, 2014). As Christian Liccope (2004) states in his study about mobile phone communication, social media allows for the reinforcement of personal relationships, as they permit individuals to ‘feel connected to the other person through a continuous flow of small communicative acts’ (p. 154). This has been particularly significant since the devastating explosion in the port, which devastated half of Beirut on August 4, 2020. The explosion has proven to be a life-​changing phenomenon for all Lebanese, and the online independent platform Megaphone News declared it ‘a socio-​political turning point’ (Megaphone News, @megaphone_​news, Twitter, 27 October 2020). It changed the outlook of the city into a visible site of destruction; it impacted upon people’s hope for change and a better future; and it first stopped, and then amplified, the revolution. However, what it did not halt, but rather reinforced, was the refusal by most Lebanese to legitimise the incumbent government. The explosion, a crushing economic crisis and the ongoing cycles of lockdown and social distancing measures imposed throughout the Covid-​19 pandemic combined to irreversibly change Lebanese sociopolitical, economic and musical lives for the foreseeable future. In the intervening time, digital and social media became the main platform through which Lebanese citizens, both in Lebanon and in the diaspora, came together harnessing a unique momentum of transnational solidarity. The emergence of hope and grassroots solidarity in times of crisis is not exclusive to Lebanon (see Bryant & Daniel, 2019; Tsioulakis, 2020); however, music and social media, in the aftermath of the explosion, suspended the deep-​seated divisions embedded in its sociopolitical fabric simultaneously inside and outside the country. Online digital communication harnessed international ‘social cohesion and solidarity’ with Beirut and its people as their lives and livelihoods became the focal point of attention. This led, as we will assess later in this chapter, to an alternation between hopefulness for sociopolitical change and a sense of despondency towards the current Lebanese political status quo.

56  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha Living digitally during the Covid-​19 pandemic: disruption, continuations and new beginnings In December 2019, I met with Youmna Saba in a cafe in the Mar Mikhail neighbourhood in West Beirut. She was working on the soundtrack for a video-​dance film ‘inspired by the Lebanese Revolution’ (personal communication, 10 December 2019) at Fadi Tabbal’s famous Tunefork Studios. Youmna was a child in the 1980s, during the civil war, and to her (and many like her), the revolution not only awakens troubled memories from that period but is also a stark reminder that the deep-​seated social divisions that shape the Lebanese social fabric are still present. A new civil war could be reignited at any moment in what Bou Akar (2018, p. 7) has called the ‘logic of the war yet to come’ (italics in original). According to this logic, war and peace are not two separate categories but rather the overlay of two temporal dimensions, the present and the future imagined as always being in conflict, where permutations of the war are played out (Bou Akar, 2018, p. 7). This anticipation of violence serves to mitigate anxiety, bringing a sense of ‘certainty’ to what is a highly unpredictable moment finding expression in her music, while engendering particular music processes and techniques employed by Saba for the soundtrack she was creating, as we will see below. Youmna had three weeks left before she left Beirut to Paris, where she would travel for an artistic residency. Although the residency was supposed to last for six months, she was unsure how long she would stay in Europe due to Lebanon’s instability. The dance film she was working on is called In Case of Revolution Break the Glass (@remie.mk, Instagram, 25 March 2020). It was made in collaboration with two friends, the filmmaker Remie Maksoud and the actress Wafa’a Celine Halawi, as a spontaneous artistic response to the revolution. The intention was, according to Saba, to create a ‘distorted documentation’ (Saba, online interview, 13 October 2020) of the events. Speaking from her studio in Paris in October 2020, Youmna expressed that the film was ‘very context-​based […] a very spontaneous decision “yes, let’s go and film Wafa’a dancing in the middle of crowds” even though the intention of the film was more on the documentation, a distorted documentation’ (Saba, 13 October 2020). The film was made in a situation that was familiar to all three artists. Their aim was to document the ‘contrast between what’s happening and what she is experiencing which is very “contrasty” and also [sic] very deformed and also [sic] an illusion’ (Ibid., 8:35). It allowed the three artists, Youmna, Wafa’a and Remi, the pain of being fully immersed emotionally in the present time of crises, where the anticipation of the future and the subsequent alleviation of anxiety that comes with it are impossible (Bryant & Daniel, 2019, p. 43). It allowed them to experience a sense of lightness and manifest the absurdity they experienced emotionally, whilst still hoping that an escalation of violence would not happen (following Bryant and Daniel, 2019, p. 42). A trailer of the film was posted on Youmna’s Instagram account on the 25 March 2020 (@youmnasaba 25 March 2020), when lockdown measures

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  57 to prevent the spread of Covid-​19 were being implemented globally. The film was due to be presented at the Cinedans international film festival in the Netherlands between 25 and 29 March, which was cancelled due to the pandemic, and so the film was shown exclusively online to festival audiences. In the digital promotion of the film by the filmmaker, Remie Maksoud (@remie. mk) dedicates the film to ‘everyone that believes in Lebanon’, referring to the ‘emotional struggle’ that finishing the film entailed. The limited engagement with the post suggests that, like the artists, audiences were also struggling emotionally with the disruption of ordinary daily life, normally marked by a succession of expected moments, or ‘intentionalities’, as referred to by Merleau-​Ponty (2012, p. 31 in Bryant & Daniel, 2019, p. 46). The disruption of the predictable quotidian brought about by Covid-​19 led to a ‘disruption of these fields of intentionalities’, causing in turn a sense of being ‘unanchored, adrift’ (Ibid.). This sense of unanchored-​ness is manifested and emphasised by the humorous tone in which Maksoud’s post, about the cancellation of the film festival, refers to the present moment being ‘the end of the world’ (@remie.mk 25 March 2020). The upsurge in artistic responses in Beirut to the revolution, such as Maksoud, Halawi and Saba’s film, contrasts with the pragmatic grassroots solidarity actions that musicians engaged in after the explosion. As O’Brien Bernini (2016, p. 337) also witnesses in her ethnography in Ireland, musicians’ ‘[r]‌esilience strategies prepare artists to nimbly navigate their challenging ecologies and negotiate for and utilise culturally meaningful resources’ since they can anticipate and adapt their artistic and economic sustainability accordingly. In some cases, this ‘adaptability’ pushes them to commodify their creative responses, both in terms of the product and the inherent subjective processes underpinned in the navigation of such critical circumstances. Such artistic responses can be experienced as an unpalatable trade, but they allow artists to be connected to a global artistic network that provides sources of income for them to survive financially. This is particularly important in a country where, since 2019, people have been unable to access their own money since banks cut cash withdrawals and ceased dispensing foreign currency, and since dollars, a currency used as much as the Lebanese pound, become scarce even on the black market (Reuters).4 Since the outbreak of the Covid-​19 pandemic in March 2020, the percentage of Lebanese living in poverty has doubled to 55% compared to 2019, and the collapse of the Lebanese pound saw inflation rates rise 120.3% between August 2019 and August 2020 (Reuters, 2020).5 In the face of such a crisis, to which was added a global pandemic, musicians and artists in Lebanon, like elsewhere in the world, have been forced to look for creative ways in which to produce, showcase and earn an income from their work, since live performances were not possible during the pandemic: ‘Making music for film, tv commercials or other advertisement is one of the several sources of income that keeps Lebanese musicians minimum solvent during such crisis’ (Saba, online interview, 13 October 2020). Musicians working in the popular, independent or alternative music scenes have commitments abroad

58  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha (Burkhalter, 2012) and repeat a well-​known pattern amongst the Lebanese diaspora, that is, earning money abroad and sending remittances home. In the third quarter of 2019, Lebanese remittances were estimated to be valued at 836.80 million USD (Reuters Staff, 2020),6 creating a parallel economy that has enabled many Lebanese to achieve a better standard of living. The film In Case of Revolution Break the Glass, which is online but unavailable to wider audiences, highlights the importance of both physical as well as digital ‘copresence’ as a sociopolitical and affective act. Youmna says: [it’s a] film that’s very context-​based so it’s really, so even a few months after, even before the explosion happened, the film is really for this specific event and it happened at this specific time, it’s something of a distorted documentation of a specific event. (Saba, online interview, 13 October 2020) As in the Occupy Wall Street (OWS) movement, the Lebanese Revolution ‘is not about demands’ but about ‘being present’. The true political action is ‘presence’ and, more specifically, ‘copresence’, which was enabled by the mediatisation of experiences of the revolution which brought together Lebanese, those ‘at home’ as well as those in the diaspora. This concept renders online media communication as having far more nuance than simply being political because it acknowledges artists’ emotions, desires, hopes and quotidian embedded realities, as well as the political discontent in the art shared on social media. However, unlike the drumming circle during OWS, there was no unifying music on the streets of Beirut. There were songs played by people, either on the squares or, as the pandemic gave rise to social distancing, in their own houses. There was no ‘presentational performance that draws the line between musicians and audiences’ (Turino, 2008, cited in Drott, 2018, p. 635). Musicians’ greatest presence was not so much on the streets but rather online, on social media (Facebook, Twitter, Instagram). It was on these platforms that their music and sociopolitical commentary thus turned into affective online communication that reached the global social-​media sphere. ‘Revolution is born from the womb of sorrow’: The song verse at the centre of the August 2020 Twitter storm The mediatisation of experiences, affects and solidarity initiatives in the period between the October ‘revolution’ of 2019 and the August 4 explosion in 2020 enabled a tighter connection between the ‘at home’ and diasporic communities of Lebanon. A few days before the explosion of August 4, Lebanon celebrated its Army Day on 1 August. Due to the Covid-​19 pandemic, the army was not allowed to perform or parade; instead, a virtual celebration called Kermalak Ya Watan was organised by the NGO Lebanese and Proud (Yassine, 2020).7 The celebration consisted of a choir singing a repertoire of famous patriotic songs,

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  59 amongst which was a censored version of the song ‘Ya Beirut, Sit ad-​Douniya’ (Oh Beirut, lady of the world) (Roumi, 2020, YouTube)8 with text by the Syrian poet Nizar Qabbani, popularised by the Lebanese singer Majida Roumi. The song was released for the first time in 1991, after the civil war (1975–​1990). Its performance of the song at the Kermal el-​Watan event was followed by a Twitter storm.9 Qabbani’s longer poem is an ode to a city destroyed and rebuilt from its ashes in the aftermath of the Lebanese civil war. Majida Roumi’s adaptation and musical interpretation turned it into one of the most moving songs in Lebanese popular memory since the end of the civil war. The song’s official video clip on YouTube, which was posted on Majida Roumi’s own account, offers the viewer a glimpse into such collective affective memories. The song starts with what resembles the sound of a military march, over which a choir is repeating the words ‘Ya Beirut, Ya Sit ad-​Duniy’ (Oh Beirut, oh lady of the world). In the video, there is a succession of iconic images of Beirut: bullet-​ridden and semi-​destroyed residential buildings, both old and new; a cross at the top of a church tower; the minaret of a mosque; and the iconic Raouche, or Pigeon Rock, the landmark of Beirut’s coastal shores. These are followed by new high-​rise buildings, the emblematic Corniche (a seaside promenade along the Mediterranean Sea), and Sahat Nejmi, Star Square, in the central district, intersected by images of shattered and bullet-​stricken buildings. Majida’s song is both a confession and a plea for the city to rise; both these pleas lie, unmistakably, in the excerpts of song verses.10 ‘Ya Beirut’ is a song of evocative poetry and patriotism. Its verses evoke hope for the Lebanese people emerging from the trauma of the post-​civil war period. However, in the version of 1 August 2020, which was performed by a symphonic orchestra and choir at Kermalak Ya Watan, the verse ‘the revolution is born from the womb of sorrow’ was censored because it included the word ‘revolution’ (‫ الثورة‬or thawra). Instead, the choir replaced the verse with the onomatopoeia ‘la la la’.11 Public outrage ensued, flooding the internet. In the Twittersphere, the hashtag with the missing verse in Arabic was immediately created, following the Arabic for ‘the revolution is born from the womb of sorrow’, ‘An Ath-​thawrat Tūlidu Min Rahm Al-​Azen’.12 On 2 August, Gino Raidy, perhaps the most prominent activist on social media, posted on his Instagram account a photo of how the ‘missing verse’ hashtag had become number one on Twitter Lebanon Trends on 2 August. The post said: ‘[t]‌hey replaced this line with “lalalalala” because of how scared and traumatised from the Thawra all the little thugs and thieves are ◻ It trended on Twitter anyway. […]’ (Raidy, Instagram, 2 August 2020).13 Twitter was the global media platform for worldwide Lebanese outrage. The transnational Lebanese Twittersphere used the platform to demonstrate to an international non-​Arabic speaking community the censorship of the verse containing the word ‘revolution’. The uncensored version of the song was repeatedly posted on Twitter as well as on Instagram and Facebook. It was either accompanied by the hashtag of the censored verse and/​or by captions challenging the Lebanese government, such as ‘[w]‌hile removing the sentence

60  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha from the song, you made our hearts sing. We are taking back the streets … sooner or later 🇱🇧’ (@andymasaad1, Twitter 2 August 2020). Others would question the Lebanese authorities: ‘Does it ask for an uprising? Are you afraid of the idea and the word “revolution”? Or is it from the “womb of sorrow” ’, as posted by Lebanese writer and theatre and film director Lucien Boujeily. Others, such as May Rihani, posted from the diaspora: ‘[t]his is so moving and so gorgeous. We salute you all the Lebanese revolutionaries’ (@mayrihani, Twitter, 16 August 2020). Majida Roumi herself intervened. She responded to the censorship on Twitter by posting on her official YouTube channel a video of an emblematic performance of ‘Ya Beirut’ in Martyrs Square in 2008, titling the song not with its official name, ‘Ya Beirut’, but renaming it with the banned verse ‘An Ath-​ Thawra Tatūlid Min Rahm Al-​Azen’, or ‘Revolution is born from the womb of sorrow’.14 At the time of writing, the song has received 99,236 views and 1.7 thousand ‘Likes’ since it was posted on 3 August. This immense number of online viewings of the song attests to the ways in which such exposure affects the flow of content through social media, where material morphs into new stories, identities, belonging to a given political moment. After the August 4 explosion, the song ‘Ya Beirut’ was ubiquitous on all social and digital media: ‘Since the explosion in Beirut I’ve listened repeatedly to the song Ya Beirut […] like any other expatriate Lebanese’ (al–​Husseini, The Conversation, 6 August 2020).15 The song was also shared on social media, working as a carrier of the collective apprehension, anger and despair of Lebanese people as they witnessed the destruction of their capital city. This phenomenon is expressively affirmed by the words of musician Youmna Saba: I was born in the 80s so I lived like 6 years of war and then in the early 90s the after war. I remember my dad driving us to downtown to central Beirut to see it because as a very dangerous zone during the war and it got completely destroyed and he took us to see what’s there you know and the whole site, even the colours, and the songs of Majida Roumi playing again (44:25) it was just like going back there and having everything else erased. It was like taking your whole life and compacting it into one event. It was very harsh actually. (44’33’’ Saba, Zoom online interview, 3 September 2020) Saba’s vivid description is quoted at length, as it poignantly tells us about the superimposition between affect, memory and music occurring simultaneously ‘in real life’ and online in the aftermath of August 4. In her description, she moves from her memory of the past, her childhood after the civil war, to speaking about the present, the aftermath of the explosion. She does so in one breath, without interruption, by saying, ‘he [her father] took us to see what’s there [central Beirut] you know, and the whole site, even the colours, and the songs of Majida Roumi playing again’ (Ibid., 44:25). The logic of this superimposition between past and present turns Saba’s recollection into ‘affective time’

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  61 (Bryant & Daniel, 2019, p. 32), a dimension of time that can be experienced both individually and collectively, when the ‘collective sense of living within a period that has a particular temporality’ (Bryant & Daniel, 2019, p. 32) such as when one’s own life is ‘compacted’ into the time space of one singular dramatic event. Lebanese transnational cohesion and solidarity after the explosion of August 4, 2020 In August 2020, my interlocutor and musician friend Bilal Bitar, like many other Lebanese in the diaspora, remained in Europe, unable to travel back to Lebanon due to the crushing effects of the explosion of 2,750 tonnes of ammonium nitrate in the Port of Beirut earlier that month. Over the summer, social and digital media platforms provided him and many other Lebanese people with key platforms for communication, for solidarity and to engage in sociopolitical thinking and collective reimaginations of a future beyond the current crisis. Social media feeds overflowed with home-​made videos made by Beirutis at the time of the explosion: first, one small blast and a column of smoke, and later, a bigger blast creating a mushroom-​type cloud engulfing the entire Port of Beirut and projecting the smartphone video-​maker onto the ground, stopping the recording. From screens and throughout the world, we could see Beirut covered in waves of debris, glass shards, mud cover and its people wounded, some seriously, and profoundly traumatised. In the explosion, 205 people were killed, 6,500 were injured, and over 300,000 were left homeless. Everyone in the neighbourhoods of Qarantina, Rmeil, Geitaoui, Mar Mikhail, Gemmayzeh, Ashrafiyyeh to the west and in downtown, and Hamra in central Beirut was affected. In addition, friends and collaborators living in Mount Lebanon and the southern districts about ten kilometres away from the epicentre of the blast claimed that they also felt the effects. It was ‘unquestionably one of the biggest non-​ nuclear explosions in history’ (BCC News, 6 August 2020).16 The Lebanese government declared a state of emergency, with the incumbent president, Michel Aoun, declaring, ‘No words can describe the horror that has hit Beirut last night, turning it into a disaster-​stricken city’; however, he failed to respond to the urgency of the crisis with practical aid. In the absence of governmental action, citizen mobilisation and initiatives of solidarity were shared through social media. In Lebanon, Instagram was used to ask friends and family if they were OK, to locate missing people, to offer car rides across town, to call for blood donations and indicate blood banks across the country, and to share geotagged maps of the precise locations where help was needed. Facebook and Instagram feeds were flooded with images of destruction: buildings burnt, facades shattered, muddy streets filled with glass shards. Through social media, Lebanese took the media into the privacy of their homes, unveiling the destruction to their followers on Instagram, including performer and friend Mohammed Khansa (@khansakhansakhansa).

62  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha Others, such as Omar Abi Azar from Zoukak Theatre Company, showed the destruction of their hard-​earned workspaces on Facebook. Despite this, not everyone was at ease with the global display of destruction. Renowned Lebanese dancer Alexander Paulikevitch took to Facebook to state his refusal to share images of destruction and brokenness. He wrote in capital letters: I will keep everything as is!! I will keep my anger intact!! I will keep my hate for our criminal politicians intact!! I will keep this memory alive!! I will not forget this all my life!! I will curse you till the last day of my life and I will take my revenge!! […] My heart is bleeding over my Beirut!! My city!! My beloved city 💔 My neighbourhood! My childhood 💔 I am so sad and angry!! […]. (Paulikevitch, Facebook, 5 August 2020) Social media platforms became the fundamental vehicles for the mobilisation of solidarity at a global level. Posts on Facebook and Instagram provided lists and links to the websites of non-​partisan ‘locally-​led organisations’ to which money donations could be sent, such as the Lebanese Red Cross,17 the Lebanese Food Bank,18 Beit al-​Baraka19 and Matbakh al Balad.20 In the aftermath of the explosion, posts on digital media platforms were written more in English than in Arabic. This was done to raise awareness within the international community of the outrageous levels of corruption of Lebanese state-​run institutions, to attract international aid that would circumvent the local government, and to attempt to hold the government accountable for the political and economic mismanagement that led to the explosion. Musician-​led initiatives for disaster relief: local and transnational networks

Fadi Tabbal, musician, sound engineer and owner of Tunefork Studios, launched his own initiative called Beirut Musicians Funds.21 He used Instagram to share the news, and his post was reposted by musicians and friends in Lebanon and abroad. On 20 August, we spoke on FaceTime; he was back in his West Beirut studios for the first time since the explosion. He told me that in the time since August 4, he had been helping friends, family and total strangers in the most affected neighbourhoods of Mar Mikhail, Ashrafiyeh, Gemmayzeh and Hamra, located across west and central Beirut. If the sound of resistance has been associated with alternative and popular music cultures in the Middle East, in journalistic and academic writings, the events after the Beirut explosion demonstrated that the sound of solidarity is not tied to any specific musical genre. The popular Lebanese diva Majida Roumi posted the following on Instagram on 7 August: ‘you [the Lebanese people] are the hope and dignity of our country, I thank you in the name of all of those in need’ (@majidaroumi, Instagram, 7 August 2020).22 Although the post openly expresses solidarity, it also implies a critique of governmental mismanagement,

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  63 which is made explicit in the video posted accompanying her words of solidarity on this post version on Instagram. Her post shows an excerpt of an interview for the Lebanese television channel that she gave whilst walking amongst the rubble-​covered streets of the capital. Visibly distressed, the singer states she is moved by the solidarity shown by the Lebanese people. When asked about the censorship of the verse ‘revolution is born from the worm of sorrow’ of her song ‘Ya Beirut’ performed at the Kermala al-​Watan event just a few days before the explosion, she answers, ‘I don’t know what happened. I don’t know who [was responsible] but the verse is “in ath–​thawra tatūlid min rahm el-​wazen” (revolution is born from the womb of sorrow)’ (@majidaroumi, Instagram, 7 August 2020). Added to the global outreach of power made possible by social media platforms is Roumi’s long-​standing popularity with audiences within the Middle Eastern region, in Europe and beyond. Her emotive expression clearly showcases a wider discontent with the ruling classes and echoes the assertion by Leila Dakhli’s informants that ‘[d]‌ying is what happens every day. The purpose of revolution is to live’ (in LeVine, 2013 p. 198). Since the start of the Lebanese revolution in 2019 until the months following aftermath of the explosion in the Port of Beirut in August 2020, life conditions in Lebanon have but deteriorated due to a paralyzing economic crisis. Yet, musicians continue to work, to perform nationally and internationally, and to present their work offline, online or in hybrid formats as means not only to maintain their livelihoods, but also to keep alive the new forms of community, social solidarity and the glimmers of future hope that emerged since then. Conclusion This chapter explored the presence of musicians on social media platforms as carriers of a central affective dimension that intertwines the material, political, social and sonic worlds over the time span of a year covering the start of the Lebanese revolution on October 17, 2019, through to October 2020, the aftermath of the devastating explosion in the port of August 4, 2020. I have argued that the mediatisation of the affective dimension, enmeshed in sociopolitical, economic and material conditions of these event, has had several results. First, it allows for the creation of ‘copresence’ between Lebanese people living across a vast geographical space, which has enabled me to talk about the existence of a transnational Lebanese community rather than build a wedge of difference between communities living in Lebanon and those in the diaspora. Second, social media allowed artists to participate in shaping online–​offline narratives of identity and belonging that occur transnationally. Third, the second case study on the censorship of the verse ‘the revolution is born from the womb of sorrow’ from the song ‘Ya Beirut, Sit ad-​Douniya’, by Majida Roumi, clearly demonstrates how social media enables much more than political communication and that it effectively allows transnational solidarity to emerge. In this situation, social media enabled geographically distant

64  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha communities to share the memories, the affects and the outrage at the censorship of an iconic song that marked the crucial period of the civil war, which, in the intimate visual and emotional imaginary of several of my Lebanese collaborators, seemed to return after the explosion on August 4, 2020. Last, social media enabled musicians, as well as other Lebanese people, the duality of being simultaneously fully immersed in the present, whilst also finding strategies to cope with precarity, loss and anxiety in times of crisis and eventually, through the online–​offline mobilisation of grassroots, to give way to a politics of hope. From the start of the revolution, on October 17, 2019, until the outbreak of the global Covid-​19 pandemic, some musicians, along with performance artists from different fields, were engaged in producing music that reflected upon the revolutionary events on the streets. Artistic expression serves as a means for deep reflection, emotional expression and affective cohesion among the Lebanese protesters, both inside and outside the country. The first case study focused on Youmna Saba’s soundtrack for the film In Case of Revolution Break the Glass, by Remie Maksoud and Wafa’a Celine Halawi. This artistic work allowed the artists to materialise their shared intimate dissonant experiences of ‘being Lebanese’ whilst creating a ‘distorted documentation’ of the event (Saba, online interview, 13 October 2020). The film and soundtrack express the artists’ desire for an alternative reality to the present, which was a time of violence, uncertainty and precariousness. This communal, intimate desire was shared with selective audiences that have access to the Vimeo platform to which the film has been uploaded. Furthermore, had it not been for the global pandemic, the film would have been showcased at Cinedans, an international festival in the Netherlands, where the politics of intimacy and the affective disjunction of the artists would have also served to leverage the artists’ transnational careers. After the Beirut explosion, musicians focused on solidarity, survival and the physical and mental well-​being of both themselves and their families. They were concerned with acts of solidarity towards their local communities, a feeling shared by those who were in the diaspora. These acts involved the affective dimension not just because of their work but also because of the means they used for communication (digital and social media). Not publicly sharing musical products that directly referred to the tragic, traumatic events was a key priority, as expressed by Saba (Saba, online interview, 13 October 2020), due to the emotional rawness of the experience, the lastingness of trauma and the artists’ incapacity to display these publicly on social media. In the aftermath, musicians were incapable of working due to the material, emotional and psychological devastation caused by the explosion, as the interview with Fadi Tabbal shows. Tabbal created the Beirut Musicians’ Fund, an initiative shared through social media by several artists, demonstrating how this action fostered solidarity as a tool to mitigate material losses during the explosion, like many other grassroots transnational movements from that time.

Beirut from ‘October revolution’ of 2019 to August 4 explosion  65 Notes 1 Throughout this chapter, I will use the standard US date format to refer to the start of the start of the revolution, October 17, and the explosion, August 4, as this is the way Lebanese people refer to it. Other dates will follow the British standard date format. 2 See Lebanon protests: How WhatsApp tax anger revealed a much deeper crisis. BBC News. www.bbc.com/​news/​world-​mid​dle-​east-​50293​636. 3 See the second section of this chapter. 4 Reuters Staff. Lebanese central bank sets 3,900 pound/​dollar rate for essential food industries. Reuters. www.reut​ers.com/​arti​cle/​us-​leba​non-​cri​sis-​pound-​idUSKB​ N247​1D9. 5 See Reuters. Factbox: Lebanon’s spiralling economic crisis’, 21 October 2020. https://​uk.reut​ers.com/​arti​cle/​idUKKB​N276​1M1. 6 See https://​tradi​ngec​onom​ics.com/​leba​non/​remi​ttan​ces. 7 H. Yassine, A massive virtual concert is planned for Lebanese Army Day. The 961. com, 29 July 2020. www.the​961.com/​leban​ese-​army-​day-​virt​ual-​conc​ert/​. 8 Video available: https://​yout​ube/​-​atX​oDn5​eq0. 9 The Lebanese Army Day has been commemorated on 1 August since 1945, when the Lebanese Armed Forces were placed for the first time under full authority of the Lebanese government. 10 Song lyrics can be accessed on the following link: https://​g.co/​kgs/​puR​hJS 11 Video can be accessed here: https://​twit​ter.com/​jobah​out/​sta​tus/​1289​8913​0740​ 2362​881. 12 See: https://​twit​ter.com/​hash​tag/​. 13 See: www.instag​ram.com/​p/​CDXP​xrBn​UjZ/​?utm​_​sou​rce=​ig_​we​b_​co​py_​l​ink. 14 See here: https://​youtu.be/​kdLN​jGF-​Tj8. 15 See https://​thec​onve​rsat​ion.com/​im-​dev​asta​ted-​for-​bei​rut-​a-​city-​i-​thou​ght-​i-​hated-​ 144​086. 16 See www.bbc.com/​news/​world-​mid​dle-​east-​53670​839 (accessed 29.10.2020) 17 https://​ s up​ p ort​ l rc.app/​ d on​ a te/​ ? fbc​ l id=​ I wAR3Qx0Evbb3kz3RZqUld_​ DO41ZgoX19u​UNU1​utl6​PIFD​H4Ed​O0tZ​Ci6Y​jZ8. 18 See https://​don​ate.leban​esef​oodb​ank.org/​?fbc​lid=​IwAR2U_​KPI5a69wH​mLOM​ nitC​jxta​mRE0​DW9z​5I5M​FuT-​n13a7o​ufa-​iutY​S8U. 19 See www.beite​lbar​aka.org. 20 See www.faceb​ook.com/​mat​bakh​elba​lad/​. 21 Further information, see: www.tune​fork​stud​ios.com/​don​ate. 22 See further on www.instag​ram.com/​p/​CDl1​Vj7n​xJV/​?utm​_​sou​rce=​ig_​we​b_​co​py_ ​l​ink.

References Bayat, A. 2013 [2010]. Life as politics: How Ordinary people change the Middle East. Stanford University Press. BBC News. (2020, 6 August). Beirut explosion: Port officials under house arrest as rescue efforts continue. www.bbc.com/​news/​world-​mid​dle-​east-​53670​839 Bou Akar, H. (2018). For the war yet to come: Planning Beirut’s frontiers. Stanford University Press.

66  Maria M. Rijo Lopes da Cunha Bryant, R., & Daniel, M. K. (2019). The anthropology of the future. New Departures in Anthropology Series. Cambridge University Press. Burkhalter, T. (2012). Local music scenes and globalization: Transnational platforms in Beirut. Routledge. Drott, E. (2018). Musical contention and contentious music; or, the drums of Occupy Wall Street. Contemporary Music Review, 37(5–​6), 626–​645. Laachir, K., & Talajooy, S. (Eds.) (2013). Resistance in contemporary Middle Eastern cultures: Literature, cinema and music. Routledge. LeVine, M. (2013). Theorizing Revolutionary Practice: Agendas for Research on the Arab Uprisings. Middle East Critique, 22(3), 191–​212, doi: 10.1080/​19436149.2013.818194 Licoppe, C. (2004). ‘Connected’ presence: The emergence of a new repertoire for managing social relationships in a changing communication technoscape. Environment and Planning D: Society and Space, 22 , 135–​156. Majeed, R. (2019a). Born to be exported? The post-​civil war Lebanese youth(s) and the rupture between education and employment. In E. Sánchez-​Montijano & J. Sanchez Garcia (Eds.), Youth at the margins: Perspectives on Arab Mediterranean youth (pp. 83–​103). Routledge. Majeed, R. (2019b). Sectarianization: Mapping the new politics of the Middle East. Peace & Security, 3(1), 121–​124. Majeed, R. (2020). Living revolution, financial collapse and pandemic in Beirut: Notes on temporality, spatiality, and ‘double liminality’. Middle East Law and Governance, 12(3), 305–​315. Moreno Almeida, C. (2017a). Reporting on selective voices of ‘resistance’: Secularism, class and ‘Islamist’ rap. International Journal of Cultural Studies, 2(4), 343–​358. Moreno Almeida, C. (2017b). Rap beyond resistance: Staging power in contemporary Morocco. Pop Music, Culture and Identity Series. Palgrave Macmillan. Mouawad, J., & Baumann, H. (2017). Way al-​Dawla? Arab Studies Journal, 25(1), 66–​91. Nooshin, L. (2017). Whose liberation? Iranian popular music and the fetishisation of resistance. Popular Communication, 15(3), 163–​191. O’Brien Bernini, L. M. (2016). The neoliberalisation of cultural production: An ethnography of professional Irish traditional music [Unpublished Ph.D. dissertation]. University of Limerick. Papacharissi, Z. (2010). A private sphere: Democracy in a digital age. Digital Media and Societies Series. Polity Press. Papacharissi, Z. (2014). Affective publics: Sentiment, technology, and politics. Oxford University Press. Pink, S., Host, H., Posthill, P., Hjorth, L., Lewis, T., & Tacchi, J. (2016). Digital ethnography: Principles and practices . SAGE. Rice, T. (2001). Reflections on music and meaning: Metaphor, signification and control in the Bulgarian case. British Journal of Ethnomusicology, 10(1), 19–​38. Swedenburg, T. (2011). Troubadours of revolt. Middle East Report. No. 258, People and Power (pp.18–​19). Middle East Research and Information Project (MERIP). Swedenburg, T., & Lavie, S. (Eds.). (1996). Introduction. In Displacement, diaspora, and geographies of identity. Duke University Press. Tsioulakis, I. (2020). Musicians in crisis: Working and playing in the Greek popular music industry. Routledge. Yassine, H. (2020, 29 July). A massive virtual concert is planned for Lebanese Army Day. The 961. www.the​961.com/​leban​ese-​army-​day-​virt​ual-​conc​ert/​

5 The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication to counter mis/​disinformation about Syria Josepha Wessels

Introduction This chapter deals with digital communication technologies (DCT) for diasporic political communication, in particular the use of web-​ based seminars, or webinars. During the Covid-​ 19 pandemic in 2020, webinars became increasingly popular. A webinar is an online presentation, lecture or workshop broadcast over the internet, in real time, using interactive video technology (Zoumenou et al., 2015). As a unique form of digital communication, a webinar is an affordable way to gather international speakers in one virtual place to reach external audiences quickly by live-​streaming. As such, the webinar is well suited for fast transnational diasporic communication. This study contributes to the knowledge of the digital political and diasporic media landscapes concerning Syria. The internet and diasporic digitality created flexible and new digital political spaces for diasporic communities (Ponzanesi, 2020). It also poses challenges when Syrian diaspora activists are threatened by digital authoritarianism and continuously have to counter mis/​disinformation campaigns about Syria (Moss, 2018; Ristovska, 2019; Tenove, 2019). In 2020, Syrian diaspora actors used the webinar to counter online mis/​disinformation about Syria. This chapter investigates what role the webinar has played in this counter-​ mobilization. First, two concepts need to be explained: diasporic political communication and mis/​disinformation. Diasporic political communication and mis/​disinformation Defining diasporic political communication is difficult when there is little agreement on what a diaspora actually is (Adamson, 2012; Koinova, 2012; Ragab, 2020; Ragab & Katbeh, 2018; Sökefeld, 2006; Vertovec, 2010, 2011, 2009, 2004). Much of the literature reflects on diasporic consciousness and the construction of identity. Approaching diasporas as social constructs, Adamson (2012) argues for a definition of diaspora as an imagined transnational community based on a shared identity, facilitated by communication infrastructures. Most scholars agree that a diaspora consists of a deterritorialized network of DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-5

68  Josepha Wessels individuals, spread over several countries, with a shared identity, mobilized through diasporic political entrepreneurs, who benefit from enabling environments, or political opportunity structures (POS) (Adamson, 2012; Chaudhary & Moss, 2016; Koinova, 2012; Sökefeld, 2006). Diasporic political communication is thus the public conversation that members of these transnational communities initiate with external audiences, to tell their stories, in recognition of their narratives. The space and nature of diaspora mobilization depends on connections to realities on the ground, such as enabling or constraining factors in their home countries and those of origin (Adamson, 2012; Hear & Cohen, 2017; Koinova & Karabegović, 2019). Taking a similar social movement and mobilization perspective on diasporic transnational networks as Sökefeld (2006) and Adamson (2012), Chaudhary and Moss (2016) define three main categories of transnational political action (TPA) within diasporic politics; 1) electoral, 2) organizational and 3) non-​institutional (Adamson, 2012; Chaudhary & Moss, 2016; Sökefeld, 2006). Much of the Syrian TPA falls under the latter category, which entails advocacy, protests, boycotts, campaigning for justice and online petitions. From the beginning of the uprisings, anti-​regime protesters communicated with diasporic Syrians. The Syrian uprisings in 2011 created an impetus of consciousness, not only for Syrians inside the country who participated in the anti-​regime protests, but also for second-​generation and binational Syrians outside, who experienced them as a renewed opportunity to connect with their Syrian identity and develop alternative imaginations of a more democratic and just nation (Ragab, 2020; Ragab & Katbeh, 2018). When the refugee crisis reached its peak in 2015, Syrian diasporic groups became larger and more vocal (Wessels, 2020). The Syrian diaspora is ethnically, politically and religiously highly diverse, and fragmented as well with respect to levels of education and class background coming from different geographies inside Syria, which shapes their understanding and lived experience of the Syrian uprisings (Al-​Rawi & Fahmy, 2018; Ragab, 2020; Ragab & Katbeh, 2018). As is the case with many other diaspora in the past (i.e. Armenian, Lebanese, Sikh, Jewish, Rwandan and Vietnamese), the Syrian diaspora is a response to major traumatic events (Hear & Cohen, 2017; Koinova & Karabegović, 2019; Sökefeld, 2006). Despite a deep fear of repression by the Assad regime, even through digital authoritarianism, which is widespread within the Syrian diaspora (Moss, 2016, 2018), some Syrians in exile are determined to gain recognition for the pain inflicted on them and campaign for transitional justice. Any mis/​disinformation narrative spread by adversaries that denies the existence of these traumatic injustices, triggers a counter-​reaction. The digital diaspora is a transnational phenomenon whereby diaspora groups use DCT to communicate, maintain connections with their homeland, recreate identities, mobilize and initiate public conversations (Brinkerhoff, 2009; Ponzanesi, 2020). Digital connectivity has transformed the terms of spatiality, belonging and self-​identification in profound ways for many diasporic

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  69 communities (Ponzanesi, 2020). For the Syrian diaspora, DCT have been fundamental for organizing protests and mobilizing for advocacy (Al-​Rawi & Fahmy, 2018; Andén-​Papadopoulos & Pantti, 2013; Rodineliussen, 2019; Wessels, 2020), keeping in touch with family members and the home country (Rodineliussen, 2016), and mobilizing for transitional justice (Koinova & Karabegović, 2019; Stokke & Wiebelhaus-​ Brahm, 2019; Tenove, 2019). Diasporic political communication is met with digital transnational repression by the homeland (Jörum, 2015; Moss, 2016, 2018; Ragab, 2020) consisting of digital surveillance and threats to activists, leading to what Mark Owen Jones calls ‘Digital Deception’ as the new face of information warfare and digital authoritarianism, in a weaponized social media landscape through which users have to navigate between facts, fake news and mis/​disinformation (Owen Jones, 2021; Hammond et al., 2019). Recent studies found that confirmation bias, combined with hyperconnected and networked online information, forms an excellent breeding ground for misinformation (Vicario et al., 2016; Zollo, 2019). Misinformation (inaccurate information) and disinformation (deceptive information) are easily shared through social media and online communication channels (Karlova & Fisher, 2013; Vicario et al., 2016; Zollo, 2019). As a result, cognitive biases and frames find their ways to be confirmed through digital echo chambers (Vicario et al., 2016; Zollo, 2019). Misinformation is inaccurate but not intentional, while disinformation is intentionally inaccurate. The latter has been deliberately construed to deceive whoever is consuming the information, as such disinformation is fabricated, deceptive by design and forms a crucial part of propaganda and fake news (Carsten Stahl, 2006; Gelfert, 2018; Quandt et al., 2019). As propaganda, disinformation is intended to persuade and appeal, making use of faulty and emotional appeals to fit a certain group’s political agenda (Shabo, 2010). Social realities and individual perceptions, however, are not value free but constructed in discourse; information for one person could be regarded as mis-​ or disinformation for the other, depending on their world views, ideologies and lifeworlds (Carsten Stahl, 2006; Karlova & Fisher, 2013). There is no universally accepted definition of what is ‘truth’; therefore, a fundamental question of what is ‘information’ remains (Carsten Stahl, 2006; Vicario et al., 2016). From a critical perspective, information helps orient people, aimed at emancipating and empowering, to expand lifeworlds, while mis/​disinformation is aimed at confusing, disorienting and disempowering (Carsten Stahl, 2006). The truth value to information is then added by way of consensus and verification. The distinction between the concepts information and mis/​disinformation is thus based on a definition of truth and intention. Disinformation can become misinformation when spread by those who do not have the intention to mislead. In the case of Syria, particularly on the side of the international left, which showed no solidarity with the Syrian revolution, misinformation is spread by those who believe in Russian or Assadist disinformation campaigns (al-​Haj Saleh, 2017, 2018; Dugaucquier & Casparini, 2018). The question is why do

70  Josepha Wessels some leftist political activists and scholars believe in disinformation spread by Assad’s loyal propagandists? They might not have a direct intention to mislead but are useful communicative tools for authoritarian regimes. Blanket campist ideologies can blindside these leftist political activists, who otherwise support social justice and peace for the oppressed, into defending authoritarian regimes and ignoring their human rights abuses (Morris & Nahlawi, 2017). Methods This chapter examines two webinar series as a specific form of political communication about Syria; one represents a platform where mis/​disinformation narratives about Syria are spread and the other is an example of diasporic political communication. The two webinars were selected because their polar positions facilitate comparison, which helps understand mobilization and counter-​mobilization around mis/​disinformation campaigns. A webinar is a live or recorded video conversation between a moderator/​facilitator and panel members, between the panel members themselves and between the panel and a potentially global audience, in which the latter could take place both textually (via the chat) and orally with live questions. Ethically, this study solely observed webinars that were recorded, documented and published open access in the online domain and therefore publicly available online. No private data were generated or used for this study. The researcher did not interact, participate or comment during the live broadcasts of the webinars. Because the platforms upon which the webinars were published are online public spaces, the owners of the platform, where possible, were made aware of the researcher’s presence. This study applies elements from both critical discourse analysis (CDA) and conversation analysis (CA) which define text and oral communication as forms of social practice, whereby the conversation itself is investigated, as well as turn-​taking, process and the social and political contexts in which the conversations are situated (Fairclough, 2003; Van Dijk, 2006; Wooffitt, 2005; Billig, 1999). As a methodological procedure for this study, I investigated the conversations in each episode of the above-​mentioned webinars. I analysed structure, format and primary themes distilled from the series, detailing its narrative content, and explored the sociopolitical context of the webinar, the positionality of the moderator and the background of the panel members. The concept of framing (Chong & Druckman, 2007) is important in this study, which means that focus is put on the topics that are selected and what are the foci to strengthen respective narratives, while other topics are excluded or not mentioned. Diasporic political communication about Syria Before 2011, a transnational network of Syrians in exile communicated their wishes for reform and democracy, in texts such as the Damascus Declaration for National Democratic Change (2005), signed by numerous Syrians in exile

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  71 and opposition groups, both secular and religiously oriented (Lund, 2012). Eventually some of these political dissidents formed the basis for the Syrian National Council (SNC) established in 2011. At its current seat in Gaziantep, Turkey, the SNC governs opposition-​ controlled areas inside Syrian territory, mainly in the north. The establishment of the SNC followed a period of massive street protests that began in 2011. The state’s crackdown on the Syrian revolution led to an ongoing brutal ten-​year war. As a result, large parts of the population were displaced. Disappointment with increased militarization, the fragmentation of the Syrian opposition coalition and disconnected narratives about Syria’s revolution (Dibo, 2021; Haddad & Wind, 2014) led to a transnational networked Syrian civil society with little relationship to the SNC in Gaziantep (Al-​Om, 2018). The Syrian media ecology is defined by contesting narratives, propaganda, mis/​ disinformation and fact-​ based information through a variety of military, civilian and political actors (Al-​Ghazzi, 2014; Badran, 2021; Crilley & Chatterje-​Doody, 2020). Daher (2018) identified four different understandings of the Syrian uprisings: 1) a struggle against authoritarianism; 2) a sectarian war; 3) class divisions and economic grievances; and 4) foreign influences and interventions as main agents of mobilization. Syrian dissident writer Yassin al-​Haj Saleh described three dominant discourses about Syria: geopolitical, culturalist or civilizationist, and top-​down anti-​imperialist (al-​Haj Saleh, 2021). It is important to explore how Syrian diasporic pro-​democracy activists use DCT to document, to verify, to claim agency and to raise their voices within this complex media ecology (Badran, 2021; De Angelis, 2011; Moss, 2018). The Assad regime consistently claimed that the Syrian uprisings were a foreign intervention of jihadi groups orchestrated by the CIA and Israel, to overthrow the Syrian government, portraying itself as a beacon against Western imperialism (Alinejad & Baas, 2018; Kolhatkar, 2018). This discourse also supports anti-​Semitic conspiracy theories accusing American Jewish billionaire philanthropist George Soros of orchestrating the Syrian uprisings and portraying sarin-​gas attacks as ‘false flags’ by oppositional humanitarian organizations (Kolhatkar, 2018; Reuters, 2020; Spinelli, 2019). This narrative ties in with what al-​ Haj Saleh and Daher identified as the top-​ down anti-​ imperialist and interventionalist discourse (al-​Haj Saleh, 2021; Daher, 2018). During the Covid-​ 19 pandemic, Syrian and Russian disinformation campaigners, conspiracy theorists, anti-​vaxxers and the far right increasingly found each other, reflected in what Bevensee (2020)calls a ‘red-​brown’ media ecosystem, an assemblage of echo chambers ‘introducing fascism to the left’ (Bevensee, 2020; Roose, 2021; Spinelli, 2019). Bevensee (2020) observed that ‘It is an agile network that effectively syndicates wholly or partially fabricated conspiracy theories and geopolitically advantageous weaponized information into mainstream awareness’ (Bevensee, 2020). The regime’s denial of chemical weapons attacks in Syria is one of the most propagated disinformation narratives about Syria (Pita & Domingo, 2014; Rayes et al., 2018). What unites diasporic Syrian political activists is

72  Josepha Wessels the aim of countering Syrian and Russian disinformation campaigns about Syria. Diasporic digital storytelling initiatives were already established early on in the Syrian uprisings, such as Syria Untold, the international Syria Campaign, and the Creative Memory of the Syrian revolution. The web-​based group Verify-​Sy is a media platform specializing in debunking fake news by scrutinized verification of information. Other initiatives, such as the Syrian-​ led Syrian Archive based in Berlin, aim to verify and curate audiovisual media to document human rights violations and war crimes for reporting, advocacy and accountability purposes (Ristovska, 2019). The use of the webinar is, however, an as yet unexplored format of Syrian digital diasporic political communication. Two webinars and two stories about Syria Two online webinar series were scrutinized: 1) Common Sense on Syria and 2) The Syrian Revolution: A History from Below. Both series claim to be on the left side of politics; however, their narratives give divergent situational analyses, stemming from polar perspectives on the root causes of the humanitarian crisis and the objectives of the Syrian uprisings. Common Sense on Syria1

Common Sense on Syria was a nine-​part, nine-​hour-​long webinar series organized and livestreamed between March and April 2020. The webinar series was hosted and moderated by Helena Cobban, a British American writer and researcher. Cobban is executive director of the educational non-​ profit Just World Educational (JWE). The webinar series generally was dominated by geopolitical narratives about Syria. At times, panel members disagree with those who spread mis/​disinformation. An example is found in the second webinar during a conversation between JWE board member Richard Falk and writer Vanessa Beeley. The Syrian uprising in Dera’a was genuine, Falk argues, but Beeley frames it as the ‘so-​called uprising’, a foreign intervention staged by Western intelligence. Falk states that the Syrian government is responsible for killing civilians in large numbers. Beeley and Falk have divergent views on the accountability of the Assad regime for war crimes. Beeley, visibly irritated by Falk’s argument, denies any wrongdoing by the regime. She puts the responsibility for the crisis solely on the West and considers the Russian military involvement as justifiable to liberate Syrians from terrorism, while ‘citizens are used as human shields by western sponsored Al-​Qaeda dominated jihadi groups’. Beeley’s human shield argument rationalizes the brutality of the regime. She is not denying its violence but frames the regime as the anti-​imperialist liberators of the Syrian people, not aggressors against them. This narrative can be defined as what Al-​Haj Saleh (2021) calls the ‘top-​ down anti-​ imperialist and interventionalist discourse’.

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  73 In another session, Cobban gives the American journalist Max Blumenthal an hour-​long solo platform. He claims that the intervention for regime change had ‘direct support from Israel’ and that Israel orchestrated the emergence of the Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS), facilitated by Turkey. His narrative is, foremost, based on Syrian and Russian disinformation campaigns. Cobban also invited two experts generally apologetic towards the Assad regime: Beirut-​ based journalist Sharmine Narwani and Elijah Magnier, a Lebanese war correspondent who is pro-​Assad and writes for a platform that pushes global conspiracies on Covid-​19 and Syria, Global Research.2 Besides Moubayed, Cobban invited two other diasporic Syrians: Tima Kurdi (aunt of Alan Kurdi, ‘the boy on the beach’), and Omar Dahi, a Syrian American associate professor and lead author of the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Western Asia (UN-​ESCWA) National Agenda for the Future of Syria Programme.3 Dahi’s presentation discusses fact-​based numbers and is a reflection on the complexity of reasons why people flee. According to Kurdi, regime areas are safe and the international community is primarily responsible for the refugee crisis. During the final session, on the sanctions on Syria and the destruction of the health infrastructure, Cobban invited two Syrian professionals: Issa el-​ Chaer, a doctor from London, and Adnan Azzouz, from Damascus. Uncritical of the Syrian government, El-​Chaer gives correct numbers on the widespread damage and loss of life but does not disclose who is responsible for the destruction of hospitals. It is evidenced that the Syrian regime and Russia have been largely responsible for destruction of the health infrastructure, including the bombing of hospitals (Lund, 2019). Instead, El-​Chaer puts moral responsibility on the international community to stop sanctions in order to solve the humanitarian crisis. Discursive practice and organization

The webinar series was organized by JWE, a non-​profit organization based in the US.4 JWE is headed by the webinar series’ facilitator, Cobban, who, in her own words, is ‘particularly focused on a peaceful solution for Syria’. She also writes a blog, in which she raises doubts about the responsibility of the Syrian regime for the use of chemical weapons in Douma in 2013 and supports the conspiracy theory that chemical attacks were staged by the rebels.5 The series was led by one non-​Syrian moderator, who selected the panel members. The majority of panel members were not Syrian. Cobban carefully selected few Syrian-​born panellists, none of whom are outspoken critics of the Assad regime and most of whom are pro-​Assad. Cobban prepared each webinar episode meticulously and decides who speaks first, and how much time is given to the panellists in turn-​taking. She generally favoured those sympathetic towards pro-​Assad narratives. Indeed, critical voices were given some space. For example, Yacoubian, a panel member, acknowledged the genuineness of the popular revolt that spiralled into a civil war, attributing the

74  Josepha Wessels survival of the Assad regime to outside players like Russia (Yacoubian, 2020). Countering Yacoubian, Cobban argued that geopolitics caused the Syrian crisis, that other actors in Syria have also committed atrocities, and that corporate Western media outlets place an overly strong emphasis on the crimes of the Assad regime. Sociopolitical context

The JWE is governed by a board that consists of a variety of US-​based members, among others, Richard Falk, former UN Special Rapporteur on Human Rights in Occupied Palestine, and Rick Sterlin, a former aerospace engineer who also sits on the steering committee of the Syria Solidarity Movement (SSM). The SSM is a pro-​Assad organization that emerged in 2012. Sterlin himself has written extensively on the SSM website to propagate chemical weapons conspiracy theories. Sterlin further writes for conspiracy websites such as Global Research, Consortiumnews and TruePublica, accusing National Public Radio (NPR) and Human Rights Watch of propagating regime change in Syria. Whether Cobban herself intentionally spread disinformation is not clear, but as head of the JWE and facilitator of the webinar series, she selected the group of panel members, who overwhelmingly pushed disinformation narratives. One of the most outspoken non-​Syrian pro-​Assad panel members is Vanessa Beeley. She is part of the Working Group on Syria, Propaganda and Media (SPM), an Assadist UK-​based group of journalists and academics actively spreading Syrian and Russian disinformation (Haynes et al., 2018). This group consists of British university professors from Edinburgh (Tim Hayward), Sheffield (Piers Gregory Robinson), and Bristol (David Miller), working in the fields of sociology, the political sciences and media studies. The fact that JWE has Assad loyalists on their board of trustees, indicates that the Common Sense on Syria webinar series functioned as a platform for the spread of mis/​disinformation about Syria. The webinar was countered by another webinar series described in the following section. The Syrian Revolution: A History from Below6

A History from Below is a 12-​part webinar series that was live-​streamed between June and August 2020 as part of an Online Summer Institute, sponsored by Haymarket Books and Pluto Press.7 Each episode consisted of approximately 1.5 hours of presentation and debate, covering a range of themes with invited panellists, and was hosted by a different episode moderator. This webinar series was organised exclusively by diasporic Syrians and intended to counter disinformation narratives such as those displayed in Common Sense on Syria, as described above. The first episode of this webinar series was introduced and moderated by Shireen Akram Boshar, a Syrian American activist and member of the International Socialist Organization in Boston, USA. The second speaker is

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  75 Yasser Munif, who explains that one of the goals of the webinar series is to gain a deeper understanding of the Syrian revolution. Munif’s goals are to frame the Syrian revolution as politics from the grassroots and set aside the many geopolitical readings. In his view, echoing al-​Haj Saleh (2021), the Syrian revolution has been marginalised by those who impose a left anti-​Western imperialist geopolitical narrative. Al-​Haj Saleh has written extensively on exile and selective solidarity for the Syrian revolution (al-​Haj Saleh, 2017, 2018, 2020, 2021). Munif provides a Marxist reading and stresses the importance of micropolitics, the grassroots, spatial politics and class. He continues with an exposition of the geography of the Syrian revolution, focusing on Aleppo and its university as a hub of resistance, brutally crushed by the Assad regime. Munif calls this the ‘culture of violence the regime, the killing machine to crush the revolt’. A well-​documented and observed tactic of the Assad regime is to employ sieges, bombardments, massacres and incarceration as the main tools for their rule of violence (Ismail, 2018). The third panellist was Loubna Mrie, a Syrian journalist and writer, of Alawite descent, whose father, a high official in Syrian air force intelligence, threatened to kill her because of her political activism (Chulov, 2012). Mrie explains that Assad’s loyalists really believe in the regime’s disinformation and conspiracy theories. Both Mrie and Munif state that for them and many others, the Syrian revolution was a moment of rebirth, identity transformation and dignity. This is reported also by many second-​generation Syrians in the diaspora, who view the Syrian revolution as a process of rediscovering their Syrian identity and finding a new relation to Syria as an imagined democracy. The next episodes focused on the concepts of imperialism and anti-​ imperialism. Moderator Sara Ajlyakin explains that Syria is at the centre of many geopolitical games in the region. The panel consisted of two Syrian intellectuals and a Western-​based socialist writer who is working on a book for Haymarket Books entitled ‘Socialism and Anti-​Imperialism’. The debate centres on the moral and political failure of the international left to express solidarity with the Syrian revolution. Leftist disinformation narratives are seen as state-​centric and essentially orientalist, removing agency from Syrian individuals. The alt-​leftist logics to ignore the Syrian revolutionaries and defend the Assad regime as a secular ‘democracy’ are seen in line with the alt-​right who support similar Assadist narratives. In this webinar series, the Assad regime is seen as a neoliberal technocratic state. In the webinar, Syria’s leading political dissident, Yassin al-​Haj Saleh, described this as coloniality of power, which practices an occupation of Syrian land, backed up by Russia and Iran, who act as imperial powers. The final three episodes focus on the Syrian revolt in the wider region, in particular within the second wave of Middle East and North African revolutions in 2019, such as in Sudan and Algeria. In the last episode, panellists Ziad Majed, Karam Nachar and Marcelle Shehwaro reflect on how the Syrian diasporic community currently relates to issues like self and democracy, questioning truth to power, religion, gender relations and the fight against the patriarchy,

76  Josepha Wessels and that, according to them, the principles of the Syrian revolution will continue within the growing transnational Syrian diasporic activist communities on the quest for justice and accountability. Discursive practice and organisation

The webinar series was organised by the Global Campaign with the Syrian Revolution,8 a collective of ‘intellectuals, academics, activists, artists, concerned citizens, and social movements’ that stand in solidarity with the Syrian people’s struggle against authoritarianism. Yassir Munif is the co-​founder of the Global Campaign for Solidarity with the Syrian Revolution and an assistant professor in sociology at the Institute for Liberal Arts at Emerson College, USA. He positions himself with the secular non-​violent pro-​democracy Syrian activists in opposition to the Assad regime. In that sense, Munif is an activist scholar and a Syrian diaspora US-​based entrepreneur. The episodes were structured around an introduction by a moderator of a specific theme and the panellists, a presentation given by each panellist, and then audience questions in the chat. The moderator role for each webinar rotated among different facilitators, most of whom were diasporic Syrians, as well as the panel members, based in several countries: the US, Germany, Turkey, Lebanon, France. The platform used for the webinar is Skype. The webinars were live-​streamed on Facebook. In that sense, the series made good use of the transnational digital affordances of the webinar as a DCT. A History from Below represents a distinct group of diasporic Syrians identifying as leftist and positioning themselves strongly against Syrian and Russian disinformation that dominates the discourse in Common Sense on Syria. Munif also uses the platform to promote his new book with Pluto Press in which he emphasizes micropolitics and the everyday of the Syrian revolution (Munif, 2020). As diasporic political entrepreneur and US-​based academic, Munif makes use of the webinar series for his activism against the authoritarianism of the Assad regime and specifically to challenge mis/​disinformation discourses about the Syrian uprisings. Sociopolitical context

The webinar series was supported by the Alliance of Middle Eastern and North African Socialists, an alliance of Middle Eastern socialists. Additionally, two publishing houses used the webinar series to launch their publications: Pluto Press is an anti-​capitalist, internationalist and politically independent publisher, and Haymarket Books is a radical, independent, non-​profit book publisher based in Chicago. Both these publishing houses use the webinar to plug their publications. In particular Munif’s book that was published by Pluto Press, The Syrian Revolution: Between the Politics of Life and the Geopolitics of Death, guides much of the content. The book was written in reaction to confrontations between pro-​ Assad supporters and pro-​ revolution activists

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  77 about the Syrian revolt. In his book, he describes an incident at the World Social Forum in March 2015 in Tunis, whereby Assad supporters picketed and attacked a panel on the Syrian revolution that Munif chaired, calling him a terrorist. Western socialist and writer Ashley Smith unpacks why the international left attacks Syrian revolutionaries in the name of anti-​imperialism. He calls it campism, similar to the Stalinist left, which is a complete misreading of imperialism, whereby only the US is all powerful in manipulating movements and states in its interest. The binary logic of campism (Sculos, 2020) is identified as the main cause for why Western alt-​leftists display cognitive dissonance on Assad’s war crimes, the suffering of Syrian civilians, and cannot acknowledge other non-​Western types of imperialism and forms of oppression and brutality. Convergence and divergence of discourses The two webinar series described above represent divergent views at opposite ends of a spectrum of discourses about the Syrian uprisings between mis/​dis-​ information and fact-​based narratives. In terms of structure, the webinars each follow a similar procedure: a moderator introduces the episode’s theme and panellists, upon which each panellist takes his or her turn to talk, followed by a moderated Q & A session with questions from the audience in the chat. The History from Below series had greater thematic variety and richer content than Common Sense on Syria, with a greater diversity of moderators and participants from the diasporic Syrian community and also from international academia. All moderators, speakers and panellists in A History from Below are strongly opposed to the authoritarianism of the Assad regime, and provide a homogeneous diasporic counter to the narratives of Common Sense on Syria, which nevertheless provided space for a few critical voices, for example, Richard Falk opposing Vanessa Beeley. The History from Below series aims to highlight grassroots movements and represents a cross section of the Syrian diaspora. The webinar series also had a clear agenda for social justice. In this study, turn-​ taking is seen as a relational and curated process where power dimensions play a role. The Common Sense on Syria series was moderated by one (Western) moderator who controlled turn-​taking, inviting only a handful of Syria-​born speakers for the series, who were primarily pro-​ Assad. In History from Below, turns were more evenly divided among speakers and panellists without the domination of one single facilitator due to the rotation of moderators. As shown in Table 5.1, while similarities are observed, the thematic foci also diverge at several points. Similar themes are the origins of the Syrian uprising, imperialism, Palestinian solidarity, the destruction of the health infrastructure, regional dynamics and the future of Syria. Although there is similarity in these themes, the narratives about these themes by both webinar series differ significantly. Common Sense on Syria primarily frames the origins of the Syrian uprisings foremost as a foreign intervention for regime change, defined as

78  Josepha Wessels Table 5.1 Differences and similarities in themes between the webinar series Thematic foci Common Sense on Syria

The Syrian Revolution: A History from Below

Introduction to Syria, its people, and history pre-​2011 The Syrian Uprising in the context of the Arab Spring; U.S. policy toward Syria

The Roots and Nature of the Syrian Revolution Imperialism, Anti-​Imperialism and the Syrian Revolution Feminist Politics and the Syrian Revolution From BLM to Palestine and Syria: The Politics of Revolutionary Solidarity The Weaponization of Healthcare in Syria and Elsewhere Capitalism and Class Struggle in Syria From Syria to Mexico: The Fight for a World without Borders The Struggles for Kurdish Liberation in Syria and the Region Syria and the Second Wave of Middle Eastern and North African Revolutions Jailed Revolutionaries: Resistance to Assad’s Carceral State Where Next for the Syrian Struggle

Palestinian refugees in Syria Sanctions, reconstruction and public health in Syria Syrian refugees and IDPs

The Syrian Uprising in the context of the Arab Spring; Syria in the Region

Sanctions, reconstruction and public health in Syria The Role of Western media Israel’s role in Syria

Western-​only imperialism. Common Sense on Syria does not give a deeper and wider, more nuanced, analytical breadth than the History from Below webinar series provides to the viewer. It does not cover topics such as Syrian feminist activism and the LGBTQ community, capitalism and class struggle, Kurdish independence, detainees, incarceration and human rights violations by the Syrian state, the context of the second wave of protests in the Arab world (Sudan), and Black Lives Matters solidarity. The Palestinian cause is used in both webinar series as a field of solidarity. However, in Common Sense on Syria, solidarity with Palestine is framed as a joint struggle, in unison with the Assad regime narratives, against US and Israeli occupation and Western imperialism. In A History from Below, Palestinian solidarity is emphasized as a joint struggle against oppression and occupation by the Assad regime, which uses similar rationalizing narratives of defending mass bombardments against its victims as Israel uses against Palestinians; that is, the rule of violence is justified as a defence against Islamic terrorism. A History from Below does not discuss the role of Western media and Israel. Instead, the series puts emphasis on the atrocities by the Assad regime and transitional

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  79 justice for its victims, which includes Palestinian Syrians. In other words, in this narrative, Syrians and Palestinians share victimhood, a Palestinisation of the Syrian uprisings which implies the Israelisation of Assad’s rule of violence. While Common Sense on Syria provides some space for some critical views to the dominant narrative in the webinar series, A History from Below does not give space for Assad supporters. Panel members invited in the History from Below series are overwhelmingly Syrian born and part of the leftist Syrian opposition diaspora. All acknowledge the Syrian regime’s responsibility for crimes against humanity and do not intend to spread mis/​disinformation in the form of conspiracy theories. Interestingly, the only panel member who appears in both webinar series is Syrian American scholar Omar S. Dahi, who in the Common Sense on Syria series gives a presentation on Syrian refugees and Internally Displaced People (IDP), and in the History from Below series sheds light on international solidarity and refugees. Omar S. Dahi and Yasser Munif co-​authored an article in the Journal of Asian and African Studies in 2012, on how the convergence between authoritarianism and neoliberalism in the governance of the Assad regime created opportunities for the social revolts (Dahi & Munif, 2012). Dahi does not spread conspiracy theories and disinformation. In fact, in 2019 he stated the following; In March 2019 it was eight years since Syrians took to the street to ask for a just and equitable society. Though they are exhausted by war, the question of justice remains more relevant than ever. Eight years ago, demonstrating Syrians raised the slogan ‘the Syrian people know their path’. For the devastating price they have paid for this demand, they should have a chance to voice their agency over their own future and once again know their path. (Dahi, 2019) Leading Syrian leftist dissident intellectual and writer Yassin al-​Haj Saleh appeared twice in the History from Below series. Critique towards the selective anti-​imperialism of the international left and its Western centrism are central in his writing. For the international left, according to al-​Haj Saleh, the Syrian revolution seems invisible and Syrians are denied their own epistemological agency, framed through the lenses of either geopolitics, with a focus on Israeli security, or Islamophobia, with a focus on Islamic terrorism and a discourse frame of human rights, regarding Syrians as mere victims (al-​Haj Saleh, 2017). In his book The Syrian Revolution: Between the Politics of Life and the Geopolitics of Death, which was launched during the History from Below series, Munif argues that these deep divisions between leftist pro-​Assad supporters and anti-​regime activists, both in the activist spheres as well as in academia, can only be explained as a confrontation between two opposing world views: one determined by geopolitics and macropolitical approaches, and the other focused on micropolitics and everyday conviviality (Munif, 2020).

80  Josepha Wessels Convergence and agreement in the webinar series can be observed in the mutual support for lifting the US sanctions and the impact of the Syrian war and crisis on healthcare in Syria. However, the agreement is again based on different frames. Common Sense on Syria frames the argument of the lifting of sanctions within a context of post-​conflict reconstruction, a continuation of the Assad regime and the need for the return of refugees. Common Sense on Syria ignores the role of the Assad regime and the Russian Army in the destruction of infrastructure and hospitals, while in A History from Below, the panellists share the perspective that the Syrian government and the Russian Army are responsible for 90% of the destruction of infrastructure and hospitals. It is outside the scope of this chapter to investigate the audience reception and uptake of the respective webinar series in qualitative or quantitative terms; however, some data have been derived from social media platforms to give an indication for audience interest and outreach. With 4,271 likes on the Facebook page of the Global Campaign of Solidarity with the Syrian Revolution, who are the main organisers for the History from Below webinar series, the YouTube channel for Syrian Revolution: A History from Below has 152 subscribers, while the Facebook page for Just World Educational has 1,195 likes and its YouTube channel has 52 subscribers, which indicates more audience interest for the History from Below webinar series. The average viewing and likes on the respective YouTube uploads from each webinar series do not exceed 330 viewers per broadcast for each respective webinar series. As a rough indication of the popularity of the webinar series, taken from the number of viewers per YouTube recording, A History from Below has an average of 330 viewers per recording and Common Sense on Syria an average of 152 viewers. Conclusion Taking the webinar as a unit of analysis and media form for online political diasporic communication, this chapter has explored how, during the global pandemic of Covid-​19, Syrian activists in the diaspora use DCT to counter mis/​disinformation narratives about Syria. The chapter provides an analysis of convergences and divergences between two webinar series representing two opposing leftist views on Syria. The content, discursive practice and sociopolitical context of each series were explored. In the comparative analysis, common themes were identified, as well as moderation, divergence in panellists, diversity of themes and topics, and political context. The first webinar series was primarily dominated by one non-​ Syrian facilitator, while the second webinar series was organized by a plethora of Syrian-​born moderators. For each common theme, the underlying world views differed significantly, and agreement in the meta-​conversation was marginal and superficial. In Common Sense on Syria, the Syrian war is framed through the lens of anti-​US imperialism, the regime as a secular Syrian state defending its people against imperialist forces, and Islamic terrorism. Some panellists in the first seminar displayed fact-​based narratives, but the webinar series is rife with conspiracy theorists taking their turn and dominating the narrative. A History from Below,

The webinar as a tool for diasporic political communication  81 which is intended to counter the misinformation in Common Sense on Syria, represents a consensus-​based narrative as a form of diasporic political communication, framed as the anti-​capitalist diasporic struggle against oppression and the neoliberal Assad regime. In terms of popularity, the second webinar series gained more traction in viewers than the first webinar series. However, where Moss (2016) identified active digital authoritarianism through online presence and direct tactics by Assad regime agents using information and communications technology-​enabled communication to mitigate diaspora members’ voices, this study shows that supportive top-​down anti-​ imperialist discourses (al-​Haj Saleh, 2021) voiced through webinars such as Common Sense on Syria, strengthen the Syrian and Russian digital authoritarianism and disinformation campaigns. Most importantly, parallel transnational processes of mobilization and political activism intersect in these webinars, of which only one, A History from Below, can be considered as diasporic political communication led by US-​based Syrian diasporic political entrepreneurs. The study demonstrated that the webinar as a tool creates new virtual diasporic transnational political networks. The other webinar is a form of non-​diasporic political communication, which is part of what Al Haj Saleh (2021) calls the top-​down anti-​imperialist narrative, led by a non-​Syrian solidarity actor who has invited few diasporic Syrians, of whom most voice the Syrian and Russian disinformation campaigns. Notes 1 Available at: https://​justw​orld​educ​atio​nal.org/​rse​sour​ces-​for-​comm​onse​nse-​on-​syria-​ proj​ect/​. 2 See his articles on this platform: www.glo​balr​esea​rch.ca/​aut​hor/​eli​jah-​j-​magn​ier. 3 Available at: www.unes​cwa.org/​publi​cati​ons/​syria-​war-​eight-​years. 4 Available at: https://​justw​orld​educ​atio​nal.org/​about/​#board. 5 Available at: https://​justwo​rldn​ews.org/​2019/​06/​11/​douma/​. 6 See: https://​syrian​revo​lt15​9610​334.wordpr​ess.com/​. 7 Haymarket books and Pluto Press were hosting and supporting the ‘teach-​ in’. These are two independent publishing houses within the left spectrum. Pluto Press is a British independent book publisher founded in 1969 and based in London. Originally, it was the publishing arm of the International Socialists. Pluto Press is an anti-​capitalist, internationalist and politically independent publisher. Haymarket Books is a radical, independent, nonprofit book publisher based in Chicago, a project of the Center for Economic Research and Social Change. 8 Available at: www.faceb​ook.com/​Glo​bal-​Campa​ign-​of-​Sol​idar​ity-​with-​the-​Syr​ian-​ Rev​olut​ion-​1473​5366​2105​485/​.

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6 Arab social media news in Sweden Site of information or site of struggle? Mahitab Ezz El Din

Introduction On migrating to a new society and starting a new life in a host country, migrants often experience a nostalgia for home; this creates a need to develop a diaspora community to foster common memories and discuss issues and news items from the host country of common concern. A diaspora community faces problems in accessing news they are interested in from national broadcasts in the new host countries, leaving a void in their news needs (Christiansen, 2004). Such needs therefore create an interest on their part in finding alternative sources of information relating to their original culture and helping them integrate into the new society. With the diffusion of online platforms, digital media has become vital for diaspora communities to stay connected to their homelands and also to each other in the new host country (Karim & Al-​Rawi, 2018; Retis, Tsagarousianou, & Wiley, 2019). New forms of media have become suitable alternatives and key players in this communication process (Karim & Al-​Rawi, 2018). As a result, migrants are not only receivers of information but also have the ability to be ‘connected migrants’ and interact with news from their homeland with like-​minded groups, who are similar in terms of values, language and culture (Leurs, 2018; Karim & Al-​Rawi, 2018). These online sites can be seen as a ‘third space’ between the homeland and the host country (Karim & Al-​Rawi, 2018). In the aftermath of the Arab Spring, which left the region with severe instability and conflict, especially in Syria, Libya and Yemen, numerous citizens fled their war-​torn countries. Sweden has been one of the most attractive destinations for refugees and asylum seekers because of its generous policies.1 Online platforms, especially Facebook, became the primary space for communication for the Arab diaspora. Online diaspora media started to develop, to disseminate news and information of interest to the diaspora community and to keep them connected with their countries of origin and facilitate their integration into their new homeland. Soon, diaspora communities in Sweden began interacting with the news and became producers of media content, creating their own media content platforms like Alkompis and Sweden Today. These platforms started to attract immigrant community members, who DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-6

Arab social media news in Sweden  87 were now actively able to share their opinions with their peers and have open debates in the comment sections of these social media platforms. Perusing the comments makes it possible to measure the extent of the integration and political involvement of the migrants in the host society. Integration is an important issue in modern Sweden. It is imperative that migrants are integrated and not segregated or discriminated against; they need to be connected with and included in Swedish society (Lacatus, 2007; Ezz El Din, 2020). As a result, migrants’ debates are also relevant to help understand the differences and commonalities, which can, if excluded, contribute to conflicts between groups (Georgiou, 2005). This chapter aims to study the digital interactivity of the Arab diaspora on the Alkompis and Sweden Today Facebook pages. Additionally, this chapter aims to profile the type of news the diaspora interacts with, by analysing their comments on certain issues tied to their home countries. To better understand the topic under study, quantitative content analysis and qualitative critical discourse analysis (CDA) approaches were applied. Content analysis was used as a pointer to map the topics that engage users’ interest, whereas CDA was used to critically analyse the discourses and ideologies emerging in the comment sections. The chapter is structured to present, first, a theoretical discussion underlining relevant previous studies on diaspora media and theoretical grounds, grouped into Othering and Supremacy, followed by a discussion of the methodology and material analysed. The results are presented methodologically using content analysis, followed by the CDA results. Conclusions and discussions are presented at the end of the chapter. Diaspora media community and open space engagement Migrants are considered part of a minority, and their internal issues are usually marginalised in a host country’s mainstream media. This creates the need for migrants to establish spaces to act as common places of belonging outside their homeland within their communities; this is especially true for Muslim communities (Georgiou, 2005; Mandaville, 2001). These spaces provide a voice to the voiceless (Georgiou, 2005; Leurs, 2018) and can serve as an active political sphere, too (Georgiou, 2005). They thus offer subalterns –​groups who do not get to speak in mainstream media –​a space to express their voices. This is relevant to the communication sphere in democratic societies (Leurs, 2018; Spivak, 1988) as engagement in public discussions on online platforms creates what can be referred to as a ‘digital presence’ for the diasporic community (Leurs, 2018). Timmermans (2018) has explained that the Syrian diaspora do not feel that they can access relevant news of interest from the Swedish language media. Thus, a diaspora news media that reflects their voices and reports news of their interest is necessary to bring up issues not discussed in the local Swedish language context.

88  Mahitab Ezz El Din The diaspora’s online news media, and their social media pages, are not only a form of news provider but also platforms that permit migrants both to express their identities and share their opinions on issues of interest to them. They also tie them to the culture of their home countries (Ezz El Din, 2020; Osman, 2015). Through these media, the diaspora communities that come from conflict areas not only receive information but also continue to debate the local political, religious, racial or social issues that they left behind in their homelands. In consequence, the conflict and divisions they experienced there are recreated online within the diaspora community in their new host countries (Issa-​Salwe, 2006; Osman, 2015). The diaspora’s online social media platforms create different dynamics among their participants and provide an open space for public debate (Bernal, 2014). The debates can be found in the comment sections provided on these platforms –​relevant spaces where one can interact and listen to the followers and discover the issues that they are concerned with (Wright et al., 2020). In the case of diaspora media, these spaces also reveal problems related to migrant identity and issues about integration and life in the new host country (Ezz El Din, 2020). Graham (2013) has traced four trends demonstrated by commentators on the online news platforms: 1) The platforms are for public debate where participants express their opinions and provide alternative views, supporting or questioning the information published in the main post. 2) The platforms are spaces where commentators post questions or gather additional information. 3) What Graham (2013) refers to as ‘adversarial journalism’, describes the platforms where the commentators express criticism of the news reported. The commentators in this case criticise the news angle and the sources provided. 4) The platforms are where participants either post disparaging or complimentary comments on other fellow commentators and sometimes on the reporters themselves as well. Social media platforms are also seen as sociopolitical arenas that incorporate both new and old racist discourses (Matamoros-​Fernández & Farkas, 2021). Marwick and Lewis (2017) underline the fact that online social media forums sometimes host ‘far-​right ideas’; these disseminate so-​called ‘white supremacist’ ideas, reflecting a belief in the supremacy of the white race over other ethnic groups. This supremacy resonates with orientalism and occidentalism discussions (Amin-​Khan, 2012) and reinforces the hierarchical positioning of one group as being better than others. I find this concept relevant to the current chapter; although the commentators are not defined as white, one can see the traits of the hierarchical vision towards other diaspora community members that resonate with the principles of these ‘supremacist’ ideologies. Diaspora community discussions on open online spaces in Sweden reveal different dynamics between migrants online. Aside from the political involvement of the migrants displayed in these spaces, their conflicts are recreated (Osman, 2015). There are also some forms of ‘internal Othering’ and racialisation, where one group of migrants sees themselves as superior to and better than the other

Arab social media news in Sweden  89 groups. ‘Othering’, in this chapter, is understood as an umbrella concept that, in general terms, refers to the discursive process of constructing and positioning the ‘Self’ and the ‘Other’. There are two identified types of ‘Other’. The first is the traditional dichotomous relation with an external Other –​that is, orientalist and occidentalist Others; in this case, the Othering is from the Swedish side, making the migrant feel marginalised and excluded. This can be described as a traditional construction that is tied to the ‘us’ and ‘them’ discourse. The second type of Othering is identified as the ‘internal other’. The ‘internal Other’2 appears in one’s own society. The term refers to those who share a number of similar linguistic, physical or ethnic features within the same society but, at the same time, have opposite or disparate values that distance them within their own society (Camauër, 2010; Ezz El Din, 2019). The ‘Othering’ can be tied to religious, cultural or political beliefs (Ezz El Din, 2020). Method and material As mentioned, this study uses mixed methods: quantitative content analysis and qualitative CDA. The quantitative content analysis provides statistical data (Dominick & Wimmer, 2013; Krippendorff, 2013; Neuendorf, 2002), which can be used as indicators to compare the two analysed pages, as well as to show the patterns of the topics covered by the Facebook pages that are compared. It can also help analyse the interactivity on the pages. From the other side, CDA is ‘sensitive to absences as well as presences in the texts’, so one can analyse not only what is explicitly present but also what is missing or implicitly indicated (Fairclough, 1995, p. 54). Examining the material qualitatively using CDA provides an opportunity to go deeper into the texts and analyse between the lines, uncovering the hidden discourses and ideologies in the comments sections (Richardson, 2007; Wodak & Meyer, 2015). Ideology in CDA is the unseen ‘hidden’ belief that only appears in the form of ‘metaphors’ and ‘analogies’ in the discourse (Wodak & Meyer, 2015). Material

In this chapter, I present a study of the two popular news platforms in Sweden, Alkompis (around 2.3 million followers) and Sweden Today (322,000 followers) over a three-​month period (1 November 2020–​31 January 2021). During this period, Alkompis published 940 posts and Sweden Today 50. I analysed the total population (990 posts) for the quantitative study. For the qualitative part of the study, I analysed comments3 from 92 posts, which is around 10% of the population. The posts for the qualitative sample have been chosen to cover different topics, with the choice being based on the high interactivity of the followers to that post. Since interactivity has been seen as an indicator of interest in the post, posts with the highest interactivity have been included in the sample. At the same time, however, it has been ensured that there are posts that cover different topics too based on the followers’ engagement.

90  Mahitab Ezz El Din Platform background

Alkompis (Alkompis.se) is a media house established in 2012 offering news from inside and outside Sweden. It is one of the most popular platforms among the Arab diaspora in Sweden, with more than 2.3 million followers and 40,000 daily viewers on their web television in April 2021. It is available in different formats: web, radio, television and as a printed newspaper. Alkompis produces its own local content, as well as translates news from different Swedish media sources that are of interest to the Arab diaspora. In recent years, it established its own locally produced online television newscasts and shows. The site also produces content with other media outlets such as the German DW. According to the page policy, the comments are not reviewed before they are published on the platform, which puts the responsibility for the content on the commentators themselves. It is underlined that the tone and language of comments must follow Swedish law, and threatening or offensive comments are unacceptable in the platform; and thus these are deleted. Sweden Today (swedentoday.net) was established in 2014. It identifies itself as a daily independent news provider for immigrants in Sweden, covering local and international news. The page reached 322,000 followers during April 2021. Its platform offers different types of news and posts. Their policy towards moderating the comments section is not mentioned on their platform. Quantitative data analysis This section presents the quantitative results manifesting the agenda and the interactivity on both the Alkompis and Sweden Today Facebook pages during the period examined. Agenda

The analysed material shows that the Alkompis platform covers a wide range of news topics. However, since Covid-​19 swept across the planet, much of the news in different areas has been focused on the pandemic. Almost 25% of the total posts published on the platform provide followers with health and Covid-​19 news, followed by society-​related news posts; of these, 12% includes issues on social life in Sweden, social problems and society-​ related questions for the followers to consider, in addition to covering culture and art, including art shows by Arab artists in Sweden. Political posts constitute about 10% of the content. These posts include news on politics and democracy, and how democratic states and politicians have managed the crisis. There are also news posts on international politics from the world, as well as the Middle East. Crime is also one the more widely covered news topics, with 9% of posts focused on it in Sweden and 3% focused on crime/​Covid-​19 news, which

Arab social media news in Sweden  91 covers crimes tied to violations of safety measures, such as restaurants not following health authority recommendations or cheating in the vaccination priority queue. Posts on travel/​Covid-​19 form 5.3% of the news posts. These posts focus on issues related to travel restrictions imposed following the pandemic. Economic issues cover 4.6% of the posts. These relate to the economy, the consequences of the economic crisis caused by Covid-​19, and the economic and financial support for Covid-​19 health services. Almost 4.5% of the posts cover migration-​related news. Around 8% of Alkompis posts are sponsored by paid advertisements. However, it is worth mentioning that besides commercial advertisements, some are society related, such as tips on job seeking and membership of certain unions, health services and charity organisations. Sweden Today does not seem to be as active as the Alkompis Facebook page. During the three-​ month period, only 50 posts were published. Although both platforms identify themselves as news platforms that serve diasporas in Sweden, the posts on Sweden Today are focused more on the international arena. This is also reflected in its agenda. While local news and Covid-​19-​related news are at the top of the Alkompis agenda, Sweden Today prioritises political news, to which 38% of its posts are devoted. But 90% of the political news posts are tied to international politics, unlike for Alkompis, which prioritises the local aspect in its news posts. Around 55.4% of the posts on it concern Swedish news; 13.8% are focused on international news. For Sweden Today, 18% of the posts are devoted to society news. The interest in crime news is also higher in Sweden Today, with 14% of the posts focused on it. Of these, 72% focus on crime outside Sweden. In general, the diversity of topics covered on both platforms provides a variety of news options in the Arabic language that can fill the gap Syrian migrants expressed, according to Timmermans (2018), where they lack access to news that they are interested in, and in a language they can easily follow, on the national media. The platforms analysed, especially Alkompis, provide different and alternative news, and some stories are tailored for the Arab community living in Sweden. This is in addition to the intensity of coverage and the variety of news formats. Alkompis creates the diversity that can make its media content suitable to the Arab diaspora demands. Interactivity

One way to engage its followers in a discussion on both platforms is by posting greetings. Around 2.5% of Alkompis posts and 2% of Sweden Today posts convey greeting messages such as ‘good morning’ or questions to engage the followers in chats and to greet certain groups of followers of the page. These posts aim to prompt the followers to interact more with the posts and the page. The moderators on these pages also publish the followers’ contributions, such

92  Mahitab Ezz El Din Table 6.1 Alkompis interactivity Topic

likes

comments

shares

Total interactivity

Ad Community service Crime Crime/​Covid-​19 Economic Education Entertainment Environment/​add farming Greeting followers/​ followers contribution Health Health/​Covid-​19 Industry Legal Migration Politics Society Sports Technology Terrorism Traffic Travel Travel/​Covid-​19 Unemployment Weather Total interactivity

12742 1238 49360 17348 29558 17233 8133 7506

884 270 2669 935 1265 1039 1230 616

47 10 724 391 439 446 46 231

13673 1518 52753 18674 31262 18718 9409 8353

8452

1040

0

9492

8036 165382 558 11639 35808 54618 78664 5247 1602 1324 836 4181 38782 3147 84907 646301

1130 8963 17 627 3594 3514 7345 227 40 359 20 167 1705 119 2839 40614

277 4717 0 280 454 539 1096 27 20 37 37 32 791 31 1478 12150

9443 179062 575 12546 39856 58671 87105 5501 1662 1720 893 4380 41278 3297 89224 699065

as videos or photos of the weather or accidents, or of something special they want to share. There were almost 700,000 reactions in the three months analysed, an indication that traffic is high on Alkompis. Table 6.1 shows that a high proportion of the traffic and engagement concerns health/​Covid-​19. These posts have received almost 180,000 likes, comments and shares. Although weather news constituted around 5% of the posts, the interactivity with these posts reached almost 90,000 reactions. Society-​related posts received around 87,000 reactions, followed by crime news posts, with almost 53,000 reactions. Reactions to political news posts exceeded 58,500 likes, comments and shares. Posts related to travel and Covid-​19 and migration provoked around 40,000 reactions. Sweden Today’s followers’ reactions attained only 3,430 likes, comments and shares during the same period (Table 6.2). As in the case of Alkompis followers, most reactions were to Covid-​19-​related posts (1,647 reactions), followed by

Arab social media news in Sweden  93 Table 6.2 Sweden Today interactivity Topic

likes

comments

shares

Total

Ad Community service Crime Economic Education Environment Greeting followers Health/​Covid-​19 Environment/​Nature Politics Society Terror Traffic Weather Total interactions

4 3 295 10 34 18 1 1163 36 458 574 83 10 21 2710

1 0 45 1 1 3 1 484 1 82 73 7 0 14 713

0 0 3 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 4 7

5 3 343 11 35 21 2 1647 37 540 647 90 10 39 3430

society-​related posts, with almost 650 reactions; politics came third with 540 reactions. Crime news posts also triggered interest, provoking 343 reactions among followers. The results show that the followers on both platforms are interested in Covid-​19, and related news was their top priority during the time period examined. However, since Alkompis has more originally produced material, which, besides texts, includes video newscasts and video interviews, it tends to have higher engagement among its followers. CDA In this study, the comments on a total of 92 posts from both platforms (82 from Alkompis and 10 from Sweden Today) were analysed, covering the three main areas that reflect the platforms’ top agenda items, which also created high interactivity. As mentioned above, interactivity was not high in Sweden Today, as reflected in the smaller qualitative sample. The posts with high interactivity and comments were selected, but it must be noted that the comments in Sweden Today include a large number of just tags. Most of the posts that created a political debate were published in Alkompis and focused on the Covid-​19 crisis and migration, as well as news from the Middle East. In contrast, most of the posts that triggered a debate in Sweden Today were tied to international news, covering French hostility towards Muslims/​Islam in France. The main discourses that are found in the analysed material can be grouped under the following categories: Trust and Mistrust; The ‘Tyrant’ and the ‘Victim’; and Utopia and Dystopia.

94  Mahitab Ezz El Din Trust and mistrust The Covid-​19 crisis and the Swedish government’s safety measures have been widely debated in the migrants’ comments; this issue, in particular, created conflict among the commentators. The prevalent discourse can be grouped under ‘Trust and Mistrust’ in the Swedish government and its measures and decisions for handling the Covid-​19 crisis. According to Graham (2013), public debate trends are visible in the comment section of the platforms. They are an open public space (Georgiou, 2005; Leurs, 2018) where followers openly express their opinions, but their opinions can be analysed in two ways. There is both an offensive and a defensive approach used by the followers. Those who trust the Swedish authorities defend the government’s measures, while the angry voices of those who mistrust the authorities take an offensive approach. The latter is visible in the comments, such as when the Swedish prime minister (PM), Stefan Löfven, is accused of failing to run the party effectively and of handling the crisis badly. The crisis and the government’s performance affected the popularity of the Social Democratic Party, which had received the support of the migrant community during the elections. Some voices expressed their concerns over even voting for the PM’s party in the next elections. They called him a failure, arguing that this was the worst era for the Social Democratic Party. Other followers argued in their comments that even though they had supported the party in the last elections, they did not intend to vote for it again in the next elections (comments4 1, 2). Löfven was even compared to Middle Eastern leaders, who are ‘losers’ but just want to stay in power at any cost (comment 3). Comment 15 Since 1994, the party’s politics have changed; it has lost more than 40% of its supporters and, unfortunately, lately the party has demonstrated lots of failures. The prime minister is the weakest prime minister in 30 years. The government is a failure and is not ready to deal with disasters, especially the corona crisis. Comment 2 I personally voted for Stefan Löfven in the last two elections, but in the next elections, I will not vote for him because he is a failure and I voted for the party, not for Löfven. That is a reason which made 15,000 people leave the party due to Löfven’s policy, which lost all the values of socialism, and the party’s principles have not been followed. The most important thing for him is to continue to stay in power. I advise everyone not to be deceived by this loser, Löfven. The racists are more honourable since they show their hatred for us, but Löfven keeps changing his manners.

Arab social media news in Sweden  95 Comment 3 Coronavirus is just an excuse, why don’t you say that the party’s leaders are a failure? Corona is just an excuse, and the party is worn out with leaders who perform like the leaders in the Middle East, just concerned with staying in power by any means. They gave up all left-​wing principles just to remain in power. I have lived in three different municipalities and each of them was governed by a different party. The worst one was governed by the Socialist Party. It was so bad that by the end of 2019, they suffered a budget deficit of SEK 100 million. Further in the mistrust discourse, the commentators continue to blame the government and politicians (comments 4–​6). The comments reveal disappointment with the measures imposed by the government and question how politicians can call on the people to take precautions and stay at home whenever possible, while they themselves do not follow the health authority’s recommendations. One of the comments explicitly blamed the government for bringing the virus into the country, while another described them as ‘gangs’ (comment 4) and others explicitly described them as ‘failures, confused, reckless and stupid’ (comments 5). In similar comments, the government was seen as irresponsible because it did not impose a lockdown, as in other countries, especially when Sweden had a high rate of deaths caused by Covid-​19. Some of the comments even used sarcasm to show their disappointment with the government’s measures (ex. comment 6). Comment 4 Calls to stay at home. Even the officials and party leaders enjoy the holidays and travel for leisure. Those are gangs, not a government. Comment 5 Reckless decisions. I do not know why this irresponsibility towards people’s health, so strange!!!! In Canada, for example, everything has been closed for months and the situation is under control, given that healthcare is quite advanced compared to Sweden, yet they worry about the health of citizens!!!!! Comment 6 No, please do not be in a hurry to lock down. Wait so you don’t regret your . rapid decision making

Angry voices continue to criticise the high prices of masks and sanitiser. In some comments, they blame the government for not distributing masks and hand sanitiser free of charge to the citizens. Comparisons are made with other countries in the world. Other voices expressed mistrust in the government’s policy in choosing and distributing the new vaccine, and there were calls not to take it, while another saw Sweden’s strategy in ‘buying and distributing’ the

96  Mahitab Ezz El Din vaccines as a ‘failure’ (ex. comment 7). Due to the mistrust, the commentators called for a public display of politicians taking the vaccine so that the people could feel that the vaccine was safe (comment 8). In line with the view of Graham (2013), the participants in these groups of comments expressed alternative opinions, questioning the effectiveness of the government’s measures; they even promoted a different policy and encouraged people not to take the vaccination as the government suggested. Some followers provided information with statistics to show the failures of the Social Democratic Party and that it was losing ground among members. Comment 7 Sweden’s strategy in buying and distributing the vaccine is a failure. It is considered the worst among European states in crisis management. Comment 8 We want to see the officials taking the vaccine first in front of all people. While angry voices expressed their mistrust in the authorities, some comments defended the Swedish government and showed trust in their decisions and measures (comments 9–​12). In the following comment, the commentator tries to provide an analysis and justifies the government’s decision not to have a complete lockdown, as in other countries. Comment 9 With all respect to your words. The only party that cares for people’s interests is Löfven’s party. The rest of the parties are capitalist. I mean, these parties want to bring the country into a lot of debt to control the state’s decisions, mafias but legally, and this is done through a complete lockdown and giving money to the people. And we know the state survives on taxes, and if they stop collecting taxes then the state will be forced to borrow and become indebted. However, the defensive approach that reflects trust in the government comes at the expense of the construction of ‘internal Othering’, where one group of immigrants sees another group as misfits in the society and wants them to go back to their homeland. In terms of the trust discourse, the commentators used several strategies to defend and support the government. Among these are blaming ‘Other’ immigrants for their ignorance and misunderstanding the principles of freedom to criticise freedom of expression (comments 10–​11). They also blamed the voices that criticised the government for the negative stereotypical images about immigrants in Sweden (comment 12). It was explicitly articulated that the critical attitude they demonstrated was the reason behind the ‘generalisation’ of the stereotypical images of immigrants (comment 12). The critical voices were criticised for not being able to integrate into the Swedish society, with one of the comments explicitly saying that they ‘must be part of the Swedish society instead of being critical of everything’. So, the critique was constructed as being opposed to integration into society.

Arab social media news in Sweden  97 On the other hand, another defensive strategy was evident when a commentator was seen praising the efforts of the Swedish government, hailing their efforts and ‘far-​sighted’ initiatives and policies, which were now ‘adopted’ in other parts of the world. In other comments, some voices expressed prayers for the Swedish PM and Sweden –​an act of support for the government in the new homeland and a counter position to the critical voices blaming the authorities. Comment 10 We do not have a culture of respecting others’ opinions, and it is shameful to comment with a lack of respect for a prime minister of a state that respects his people and residents of his country. Comment 11 We must respect the country and its laws. We must be part of Swedish society instead of being critical of everything. You are people who are very hard to satisfy. God protect Sweden and its people from this pandemic . Comment 12 They [referring to other immigrants] just bark and enjoy the best of life and still they are unhappy as if they are better than the Swedish people and the Swedish government. I swear by God they make one sick of their actions and their words that are always negative. In this country, you should behave as others do and respect the laws. You should stop insulting others and becoming the cause for the negative image of the immigrants. The bad image prevails. So, you are making a generalisation of the bad image of the immigrant in this country. The ‘tyrant’ and the ‘victim’ Within this discourse, the migrants are constructed as the victims of tyranny in the Middle East or of other leaders in the world who act against Muslims. The Arabic language-​speaking followers of the platforms engaged in political discussions tied to international news: examples of posts about the Middle East (comments 13–​16) and posts tied to Islam and Muslims (comments 17–​ 19). Such posts open up another conflict that makes the diaspora platform a site of struggle, which resonates with Osman’s (2015) conflict recreation within the online diaspora community. The followers of both Alkompis and Sweden Today engaged in a discussion; some comments –​especially in Sweden Today –​ were expressions of activism. An Alkompis post about Swedish cooperation with Iran initiated a debate on democratic norms and support for dictators. Some of the followers were against such cooperation and support, or a ‘tyrant’ regime, as they explicitly referred it to. Not supporting such a regime is described as a ‘duty’ to humanity (comment 13). There were calls to stop the cooperation, and a conflict was revealed between the supporters of the Iranian regime and the supporters of the opposition.

98  Mahitab Ezz El Din Some comments explicitly expressed the view that the supporters of the regime should not live in Sweden; as in earlier discourses, the ‘internal Othering’ was observed in the comments. The idea of ‘go back home’ or ‘why are you living in a ‘secular’ and ‘Christian’ state like Sweden?’ recurred in the conflict (comment 14). The supporters of the Iranian regime argued that Iran was an advanced country in terms of education and science, and the world benefited from this (comment 15 and 16). Its regime was even described as an independent regime that did not serve the interests of the Western powers while protecting and defending Muslim interests better than Arab leaders were doing. In other comments, the former Iraqi and Iranian regimes were compared, and the former Iraqi president, Saddam Hussein, was depicted as having surrendered Iraqi interests to the shah, while Imam Khomeini fought for Jerusalem. Comment 13 They must stop the cooperation with such a regime and exercise pressure on it [the Iranian regime]. The tyrant regime [is one] that is keen on possessing nuclear bombs and threatening the world and regional peace, like North Korea. This is a humanitarian duty in solidarity with the Arab and Iranian people. Comment 14 What do you do in Sweden, a state of Christianity, love and secularism? … Go back to the regime of the mullahs that you support as they control several countries and will give you full protection. Comment 15 The level of education in Iran is higher than in Sweden, and the indication of this is self-​sufficiency in all fields, and if it was not for the sanctions, the Swedes would go to Iran for education. Comment 16 Iran does not need you. You are the ones who need Iran, the knowledge and science of Iran, the development of Iran, the patience of Iran and the Iranian regime. International politics was underlined also in both Alkompis and Sweden Today posts that covered the French president’s statements about Islam and the treatment of Muslims in France. The commentators on those posts expressed anger both towards the French regime and Muslim leaders (comments 17–​19). The French actions were described as ‘official terrorism’, while the Muslim leaders were described as weak, as being unable to react to the French actions. They are, moreover, described as lacking legitimacy since they are not democratically elected and, hence, are in power without ‘official electoral legitimacy’. The conflict over the veil triggered commentators’ questions about Western understanding, the implementation of freedom and the inconsistency

Arab social media news in Sweden  99 in the application of the principles of the French Republic. Muslims are, thus, presented as victims in society. Comment 17 Official terrorism in uniform under official instigation … But unfortunately, no one lifts a finger in light of the failure of the official response from the official Islamic countries that lack official popular electoral legitimacy … (Sweden Today). Comment 18 Why are you upset about the veil? Do they want all women to be naked? Do you want them to have sex on the streets? Is this freedom? (Alkompis). Comment 19 It is assumed that the most basic values of the republic are respect for people and their beliefs. Consequently, it is assumed, for example, that the law preserves the right of Muslim women who want to wear the veil, just as it equally preserves the right of others to take it off. Unfortunately, we find many members of the Arab community supporting the preservation of the values of the republic as a justification for the demands of the extreme right when such issues are raised, such as the veil, the beard, the call to prayer, the places of prayer, and fasting times, which are devotional practices (Alkompis). The political struggle is not just presented in regular comments, but the discussions manifested signs of activism by initiating/​ reusing anti-​ system hashtags, such as the anti-​ Iranian hashtag #Irannen_​ terroristregim which Alkompis followers used. Similarly, followers of Sweden Today used an anti-​ France and an anti-​French President Emmanuel Macron hashtag #Macron and #boycott French products. Such debates created an online opportunity for migrants to express activism against issues that they were opposing, allowing for a more visible diasporic ‘digital presence’ (Graham, 2013; Leurs, 2018), to provide a voice to the subalterns (Georgiou, 2005; Leurs, 2018; Spivak, 1988) and also to serve as a political sphere (Georgiou, 2005). Utopia and dystopia Another discourse that arose in the posts was about utopia and dystopia. This discourse is tied to immigrants’ experience in Sweden and Europe after they had migrated from their home countries. Some groups of followers considered life in the new country of residence as utopian, while another group believed it was disappointing; they saw the country as a dystopia, and life as not what they had imagined it would be. Thus, they saw themselves as victims in the new host country. The struggle for residency permits was one of the major issues creating the dystopian discourse (comments 20–​22). The commentators believed that they

100  Mahitab Ezz El Din were victims of racism in Sweden and had been subjected to maltreatment and disrespect by migration agents. The agents were explicitly referred to as ‘wicked’, ‘racist’, ‘stupid’ and ‘corrupt’ (comment 20). The diaspora community complained about the long waiting times for residency permits. This was seen as ‘unjust’, especially the migration authority’s decisions, the poor living conditions in the migrant camps and the disrespect shown by migration officers towards the refugees (comments 21–​22). Comment 20 Among the recruitment conditions for hiring a Migration Agent is to be first: wicked; second: racist; third: stupid; fourth: corrupt. Comment 21 I swear to God, I submitted my application for family reunification four years ago, and I have kids and I received a refusal. Where are justice and humanity? Comment 22 I will never forget the words of the migration agent when she handed over an apartment belonging to them to one of my friends. The apartment was in a miserable condition, so my friend was shocked and asked her how she could live in such an apartment with her children. The migration agent, who spoke Arabic, mockingly replied wondering if my friend wanted them to provide a house with a jacuzzi. Employment conditions were also among the issues aired in the dystopian discourse. Posts tied to unemployment and opportunities for work, especially during Covid-​19, had a sorrowful tone and were sarcastic about working conditions (comments 23–​24) and the terms for recognising foreign academic degrees. There was disappointment around the inability to find jobs or work matching educational backgrounds (comment 25). The followers made fun of the link between Covid-​19 and the increase in the unemployment rate among migrants because it was already high, regardless of the Covid-​19 crisis. Those who had advanced degrees were explicitly described as ‘victims’ in Sweden. Comment 23 Unemployment problems existed way before corona –​the jobs crisis has increased in the past. Comment 24 It is impossible to find a job, not just difficult

.

Comment 25 It is difficult to recognise our foreign academic degrees, especially for dentists. They are oppressed and victims of the hard terms. The idea of dystopia was expressed in the discussion regarding social services and how the authorities communicated and dealt with families (comments

Arab social media news in Sweden  101 26–​28). Social officers were explicitly referred to as ‘terrorists’, as individuals who were racist and opposed to foreigners. Migrants were implicitly portrayed as victims of social services authorities. They accused the social officers of abusing the fact that many migrants were not fluent in Swedish and were misinformed about Swedish law. The migrants described the social officers’ actions as a form of ‘kidnapping’ the migrants’ children. The diaspora community, in their comments, also referred to Sweden as a ‘depressing’ country –​ they could not secure a decent life for their families and children, the life that they had immigrated to seek. Comment 26 Social [referring to social services] is a terrorist organization. They intimidate and attack foreigners and target them because most foreigners do not master the language and do not understand Swedish law. Comment 27 This country is ruled by a gang called Social Services who kidnap children. This country is for the elderly citizens due to the lack of new-​born children. They want to take away the migrants’ kids to integrate them and educate them to drink, to have broken families, and become atheists in a country that is depressive. We immigrated to secure a decent life for our children. Silence is not good enough. We want a solution. Comment 28 In this country, they are thieves. It is a fact that we fled from war and destruction, but we did not know that this is a country that kidnaps children. May God take revenge. Although there were no hashtags as there were in the earlier discourse, there were calls for the active expression of their thoughts and feelings via calls for demonstrations against the actions of social service towards immigrants and the establishment of an Arab immigrants’ organization to help them (comments 29 and 30). Comment 29 Why can’t we demonstrate for the sake of our children? This is one of our rights, and we must go out and protest because our children are very precious to us. Comment 30 We should have an Arab organization to support us. On the other hand, there was a discourse, although not a large one, that depicted a utopia through comments saying Sweden is a ‘place of their dreams’ –​‘free’, ‘democratic’ and rich. The commentators did not see faults in the Swedish system (comments 31–​32). Similar examples can be traced in a reply to a post on bribes in the Swedish system, in which the commentator expresses full trust in the Swedish public employees and denies that there could be bribes

102  Mahitab Ezz El Din or bribe-​related cases in Sweden. It is a utopian image of Sweden which states that everyone on Swedish soil has an ‘excellent’ income. The utopian discourse appeared in the following comments by those who had a positive experience with the ‘establishment programme’ (for settling the refugees) and were able to find jobs. There was even lengthy advice to immigrants on how to get themselves settled in the society and find a suitable job. Comment 31 Despite the extremely cold weather, Sweden remains a dream for many people, including myself. Sweden’s freedom and democracy provide a warmth greater than the suns of the earth combined. Comment 32 A piece of advice: do not depend on anyone, look for a job legally (not through the black market), even if the salary is low, and do not say I am not fluent in Swedish. Although the diaspora community in the dystopian discourse broke with the ‘dreamland’ image, the commentators in the utopian discourse tried to share their positive experience in the host country and explicitly described themselves as ‘happy’ and as enjoying a fair deal in the host country, even if they were not well educated. Conclusion During the study period, one can see that both platforms are interested in presenting, to the diaspora community, news on many different topics. However, Alkompis has a more professional outlook, with intensive reporting, and uses several journalistic genres, as compared to Sweden Today. Alkompis focuses on local news posts tied to Covid-​19 in various areas, while Sweden Today prioritises international politics more than the local Swedish news. The international news service can be found on many other international platforms; this explains the lower traffic and interactivity level among followers of Sweden Today, in comparison with those of the Alkompis platform, which offers local news for the diaspora community in their mother tongue. Nevertheless, both platforms try to engage followers through their photo posts –​where they cover weather and pose questions to followers and so on. The traffic on the platforms, especially Alkompis, shows that the diaspora online platforms provide a ‘digital presence’ for the diasporic society (Leurs, 2018) and allow online public debates (Graham, 2013). The results in Timmermans’ (2018) study show that the Syrian diaspora community in Sweden did not receive news that they were interested in via the Swedish language platforms, however from the results of the current study, one can see a high level of interactivity on the news platforms; this suggests that the platforms offer the type of news the diaspora community finds interesting. They actively

Arab social media news in Sweden  103 comment on the different posts, and use those platforms as a public space to express their opinion towards issues of interest. The qualitative analysis further shows that the platforms allow public debate (Bernal, 2014; Graham, 2013). The diaspora community’s opinions expressed in the comments section give the subaltern a voice (Georgiou, 2005; Leurs 2018; Spivak, 1988). The critical analysis of the comments of the diaspora community reveals that though these two diaspora platforms are not official channels, they offer their followers an arena for activism, a way of expressing their opinions on issues that they think are relevant for their relations with the authorities in their host countries or their homelands. The Arabic-​speaking diaspora community in Sweden raises anti-​ regime debates and spreads hashtags to express their anger over and disagreement with certain issues and also extends the idea of organising demonstrations to express their opinions and establish an organisation to defend their rights. However, at the same time, the comment sections are sites of struggle where many commentators do not merely air their opinion but react aggressively to any contrary opinion. Therefore, the critique is not only expressed against politicians or authorities but against ‘internal Others’ as well, as revealed when there is a disagreement of opinion. Hence, a supremacist ideology can be traced within this form of internal Othering (Camauër, 2010; Ezz El Din, 2019); some migrants see that they fit into Swedish society (based on their religious beliefs or status in the society) and, at the same time, see their fellow migrants as misfits and as unable to integrate into the new society. Although Marwick and Lewis (2017) reference supremacism when referring to ‘white supremacist’ ideology and right-​wing discourse, I detect a similar supremacist view, right-​wing rhetoric and attitude in some comments made by some migrants on fellow migrants based on their tribe, origin or home country. Further, the results of this study show that although many of those immigrants left their homeland to escape conflict, they handle disagreements with other migrants through ‘Othering’ and by blaming other migrants for some of the issues that have arisen in the new homeland –​or they simply look down on the ‘Others’ and label them as ‘misfits’ in the new society. This is a rhetoric that is adopted by right-​wing politicians in Western societies. The hierarchical vision of one group being better than another is visible in the discussions, which is also a form of an ‘internal Othering’ within a group that is expected to share the same values and background and not reproduce right-​ wing discourses that the diaspora community complains about. The discourse of dystopia revealed in the diaspora community comments is tied to their experience in the new country of residence. Immigrants expressed their disappointment over the disjunction between the life in the West that they had imagined and the many difficulties in migration, employment and social affairs that confronted them. In the meantime, this study revealed that social media platforms are turning into a site of struggle. This can be seen in the utopian discourse, where the diaspora community expresses their ability to achieve

104  Mahitab Ezz El Din their dreams in the new home country. However, at the same time, internal Othering also appears in the comments, where the followers present arguments that counter the dystopian discourse. They express, in their comments, their satisfaction and ability to be part of the community because they can find a job even without mastering the Swedish language. They hint indirectly that those who complain that they cannot find a job have not tried to find one. In the discussions about Muslims in Europe and how they are received and accepted in the West, the idea of their being victims as migrants is evident. The idea of being ‘victims’ is also manifested in the dystopia discourse, where the diaspora community complains of the maltreatment received in the host country, in terms of the process of migration, unemployment and the social services officers. The diasporic news platforms on social media are indeed relevant to the diaspora’s interactivity. On the one hand, the comment platforms show that they play a role as a ‘third space’ for like-​minded diaspora to stay connected and interact (Karim & Al-​Rawi, 2018; Leurs, 2018). They also serve as news disseminators for the migrant community, especially new migrants who do not speak any language other than Arabic. The comments sections also offer a suitable platform for migrants to express their opinions on and criticism of issues that concern them –​hence the subaltern is given a voice via those platforms (Georgiou, 2005; Leurs, 2018; Spivak, 1988). Graham’s (2013) four trends are also visible in the comments analysed: the participants provide alternative information/​ opinions to what the post itself covers. ‘Adversarial journalism’ is practised as well on the platforms; on many occasions, the comments express criticism of the news site itself and the reporting of certain issues. The fourth trend is visible when the commentators degrade other fellow commentators in what this study refers to as ‘internal Othering’. However, the ‘internal Othering’, which arises whenever the discussions turn to conflicts or disagreements, shifts the service of the platforms from sources of news and information into sites of struggle. Notes 1 The number of asylum seekers in Sweden in 2016 reached 163,000; after the introduction of stricter legal restrictions, it declined in 2020 to 82,500 (Immigration to Sweden, 2021). 2 The idea of the ‘internal’ and ‘external’ Other appeared in a study by Leonor Camaüer (2010), in which she referred to them as the ‘close’ and the ‘distant’ Other (pp. 147–​149). 3 In the results, I present examples only of the comments from those 92 posts to show the discourses revealed. 4 There are more comments analysed in this chapter that reveal the same discourses, but I only present in the results a few relevant examples. 5 The comments are translated by the author.

Arab social media news in Sweden  105 References Alkompis. (2020). Om oss. https://​alkom​pis.se/​about-​us. Amin-​Khan, T. (2012). New orientalism, securitisation and the Western media’s incendiary racism. Third World Quarterly, 33(9), 1595–​1610. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​01436​ 597.2012.720​831. Bernal, V. (2014). Nation as network: Diaspora, cyberspace, and citizenship. University of Chicago Press. Camauër, L. (2010). Constructing ‘close’ and ‘distant’ Muslim identities: The Mohammed cartoon in the Swedish newspaper Nerikes Allehanda. In S. Nohrstedt (Ed.), Communicating risks: Towards the threat society (pp. 137–​160). Nordicom. Christiansen, C. C. (2004). News media consumption among immigrants in Europe: The relevance of diaspora. Ethnicities, 4(2), 185–​207. Ezz El Din, M. (2019). News media racialization of Muslims: The case of Nerikes Allehanda’s publishing of the Mohamed caricature. In P. Hervik (Ed.), Racialization, racism, and anti-​racism in the Nordic countries (pp. 93–​109). Palgrave Macmillan. Ezz El Din, M. (2020). Arab diaspora online media in Sweden. First Monday, 25(9). https://​doi.org/​10.5210/​fm.v25i9.10471 Fairclough, N. (1995). Media discourse. E. Arnold. Georgiou, M. (2005). Diasporic media across Europe: Multicultural societies and the universalism–​particularism continuum. Journal of Ethnic and Migration Studies, 31(3), 481–​498. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​136918​3050​0058​794 Graham, T. (2013). Talking back, but is anyone listening? In C. Peters & M. J. Broersma (Eds.), Rethinking journalism: Trust and participation in a transformed news landscape (pp. 114–​127). Routledge. https://​doi.org/​10.1177/​14687​9680​4042​603 Immigration to Sweden from 2010 to 2020. (n.d.) Statista Research Department. www-​ stati​sta-​com.proxy.lnu.se/​sta​tist​ics/​523​293/​immi​grat​ion-​to-​swe​den/​. Issa-​Salwe, A. M. (2006). The internet and the Somali diaspora: The web as a means of expression. Bildhaan: An International Journal of Somali Studies, 6(8). https://​dig​ital​ comm​ons.mac​ales​ter.edu/​bildh​aan/​vol6/​iss1/​8 Karim, K. H., & Al-​Rawi, A. (Eds.). (2018). Diaspora and media in Europe: Migration, identity, and integration. Palgrave Macmillan. Krippendorff, K. (2013). Content analysis (3rd ed.). SAGE. Lacatus, C. (2007). What is a blatte? Migration and ethnic identity in contemporary Sweden. Journal of Arab & Muslim Media Research, 1(1), 79–​92. https://​doi.org/​ 10.1386/​jammr.1.1.79_​1 Leurs, K. (2018). Young connected migrants: Remaking Europe from below through encapsulation and cosmopolitanisation. In K. H. Karim & A. Al-​ Rawi (Eds.), Diaspora and media in Europe (pp. 25–​49). Palgrave Macmillan. Mandaville, P. (2001). Reimagining Islam in diaspora: the politics of mediated community. Gazette (Leiden, Netherlands), 63(2–​3), 169–​186. Marwick, A., & Lewis, R. (2017). Media manipulation and disinformation online. Data & Society Research Institute. Matamoros-​Fernández, A., & Farkas, J. (2021). Racism, hate speech, and social media: A systematic review and critique. Television & New Media, 22(2), 205–​224. https://​doi/​10.1177/​15274​7642​0982​230 Neuendorf, K. (2002). The content analysis guidebook. SAGE.

106  Mahitab Ezz El Din Osman, I. (2015). The Somali media, diaspora communities and the concept of conflict recreation. JOMEC Journal, 7, 1–​14. http://​dx.doi.org/​10.18573/​j.2015.10006 Retis, J., Tsagarousianou, R., & Wiley, J. (Eds.). (2019). The handbook of diasporas, media, and culture. Wiley-​Blackwell. Richardson, J. E. (2007). Analysing newspapers: An approach from critical discourse analysis. Palgrave Macmillan. Spivak, G. C. (1988). Can the subaltern speak? In C. Nelson & L. Grossberg (Eds.), Marxism and the interpretation of culture (pp. 271–​316). University of Illinois Press. Sweden Today. (March 2021). About. www.faceb​ook.com/​swed​ento​day.net Timmermans, M. (2018). Media use by Syrians in Sweden: Media consumption, identity, and integration. In K. H. Karim & A. Al-​Rawi (Eds.), Diaspora and media in Europe (pp. 51–​70). Palgrave Macmillan. Wimmer, R. D., & Dominick, J. R. (2013). Mass media research. Wadsworth. Wodak, R., & Meyer, M. (Eds.). (2015). Methods of critical discourse studies. SAGE. Wright, S., Jackson, D., & Graham, T. (2020). When journalists go ‘below the line’: Comment spaces at The Guardian (2006–​2017). Journalism Studies, 21(1), 107–​ 126. https://​doi.org/​10.1080/​14616​70X.2019.1632​733.

7 Digital diaspora The case of Farkhunda and Afghan women’s resistance Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou

Introduction Farkhunda Malikzada was killed on 19 March 2015 in Kabul. It was two days before the Afghan New Year, Nowruz. Farkhunda had promised her mother, Bibi Hajera, that she would help prepare for the festivities when she returned from her Koran reciting class. Farkhunda was 27 years old and worked as a volunteer teacher while she studied Islamic law. On her way home, Farkhunda stopped by the Shah-​e Du Shamshira shrine in central Kabul. She got into an argument with the caretaker, Zain-​ul-​Din, at the shrine about his selling of Tawiz charms with little scraps of paper bearing Qur’anic verses. As the caretaker began shouting that she had burned the Qur’an and that she was a kuffar (non-​believer) sent by the Americans, a crowd gathered and several people began filming on their phones as the event escalated. The footage of Farkhunda being chased and beaten to death by this mob has been circulating on social media sites in the years since the event. In uploaded video footage Farkhunda is seen, veiled, standing just inside the gate to the shrine, denying that she has burned the Qur’an. She is pulled out from the shrine, pushed to the ground and kicked. ‘Kill her!’ members of the mob loudly yell. The police fire shots, and the crowd moves back to reveal Farkhunda with her veil and headscarf gone, hair in disarray, and her hands and face red with blood. She stares up at the camera. This image is reproduced and found across Instagram, Twitter, Facebook, Reddit, and printed on posters in protest marches. Footage from the day of the killing also shows police, who have given up trying to control the crowd. They watch as Farkhunda is struck down, kicked, beaten with sticks and run over by a car that drags her down the street. The mobile phone footage of the killing, soon uploaded and shared on the internet, entails people boasting about their role in the attack and making clear whom they support. Even as those posts were quickly removed again, the digital traces helped identify the perpetrators in the subsequent trial. Social media played a role from the outset in mobilizing Afghans in diaspora and allies in demonstrations and vigils, and the case was covered in national and international mainstream media. Women painted their own faces and hands red when participating in protests, wore a face mask depicting Farkhunda’s bloody DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-7

108  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou face –​and those images circulated as well, insistently re-​enacting the event and continuing the protest. With the ‘platformization of society’ (Poell & van Dijck, 2015), political communication is rapidly changing, and new formations of publics across on-​and offline spaces emerge. The case of Farkhunda’s murder illustrates how a ‘diasporic networked public’ emerges courtesy of a digital-​material infrastructure and social media. This affords a strengthening of diasporic alliances with groups in Afghanistan calling for human rights and the rights of women in general, as well as other stakeholders and allies with overlapping interests. When we conceptualize here a ‘diasporic networked public’, it is to point to the ways in which the diasporic aspect of people’s identity is in play when communicating in words and images on social media with an intent to impact politics in Afghanistan. Other forms of belonging and relations can for the individual person themselves carry (more) importance than a diasporic identity, which cannot be assumed automatically as following from being minoritized ethnically in a majority-​ethnic setting (Gilroy, 1996; Waltorp, 2020). We understand ‘diaspora’ here as formed contextually and situated in our environment and surrounding social world –​as are other aspects of cultural and social identity (Hall, 1986, 1991). Recent political developments in Afghanistan have seen the Taliban take power in the country on 16 August 2021, as the United States of America and its allies withdrew their troops after 20 years of military presence. The question of the position of women in Afghan society and diasporic activism around this has been cast into new relief. It is arguably more crucial than ever to understand the role of digital communication and social media in impacting the question of the position of women in Afghanistan, and in keeping the world’s attention on this issue. In the contemporary media landscape, polarization and radicalization are related concerns, and bad-​faith actors strategically use these same platforms to undermine citizens’ trust in democratic institutions as those working towards democracy. In this chapter, we discuss the position of women in Afghan society and investigate how members of the diaspora in Denmark use digital media to impact this. We start from the case of Farkhunda recounted here and combine anthropological participant observation and digital methods to analyse how the spread and popularization of social media impact political communication among Afghans in Denmark. We argue that social media platforms are pivotal in mobilizing protests, and create visibility –​in this case concerning the case of Farkhunda specifically, and the position of women in Afghan society generally. An important insight is that digital media and (the lack of) telecommunications infrastructure are crucial in how people in and outside of Afghanistan came to know about this event in very different ways, consequently holding different and incompatible versions to be true, and acting accordingly. A collaborative approach: (auto)ethnographic research and digital methods Our methodology includes digital methods and (auto)ethnography. Sama Sadat Ben Haddou originates from Afghanistan and has family members who

Digital diaspora  109 are activists, working to promote women’s rights and democratic rule in the country. Autoethnography implies authors ‘positioning themselves as insiders to the milieus studied […] (and) remind us that our scholarly production takes place in the context of particular social fields within which we negotiate as social actors’ (Reed-​Danahay, 2009, p. 28; To, 2015). Karen Waltorp has initiated a research and film project (Waltorp & ARTlife Film Collective, 2021)1 with core members who are Danish and Afghan. Our Film Collective counts people of various ethnic backgrounds: majority-​ethnic Danish, Tajik, Pashtun; families hailing from various parts of Afghanistan, and from urban centres as well as rural areas. The Collective explores analytically and practically how to articulate one’s everyday life, dilemmas and dreams in alternative ways vis-​à-​vis the existing dominant media narratives and coverage of Afghan women in Western media, and more generally of Muslim women (Abu-​Lughod, 2002; Ahmad & Waltorp, 2019; Lindisfarne, 2002; Kandiyoti, 2005, 2009, see https://cphdox.dk/cphlab/diplomatic-rebel/​). The situated knowledges we present (Haraway, 1988) in this chapter are thus as a Danish anthropologist and members of diaspora joining and articulating ourselves in collaborative writing and film. These are our ‘positions of enunciation’ (Hall, 1980), or ‘assemblage of enunciation’ (Guattari, 1995). In our Film Collective we have had discussions around the case of Farkhunda. One of our co-​members, Asma M. Safi, was in Afghanistan at the time of the killing, and experienced the events from within the country, while the remaining two core members, Nilab Totakhil and Mursal Khosrawi, were in Denmark and took part in demonstrations in Copenhagen. In this chapter, we recount the case from the viewpoint of the members of the ARTlife Film Collective and their family members, who are stakeholders in diaspora associations in Denmark. In addition to this collaborative (auto)ethnographic approach, we draw on digital methods (Marres & Gerlitz, 2016; Rogers, 2015). We have scraped the hashtags #farkhunda, #iamfarkhunda, #justiceforfarkhunda, or #justice4Farkhunda, posted in English (Roman alphabet) and Farsi/​Dari (Perso-​ Arabic alphabet). This allows us to laterally consider how the case of Farkhunda is talked about among friends and family on the intimate scale of (auto)ethnography and how it circulates in global media flows, with impact locally. We have looked at mainstream media, as well as Google searches and Twitter posts in the period 2015–​2020. Furthermore, we pay attention to the iconography of social media posts, memes and posters used in physical protests around the specific case of Farkhunda (Fluri & Lehr, 2019). Across big data and images shared and circulated online, as well as our own image-​making work in the Collective, visualization features prominently. Visualizations bring quantities and relationships into view when the subject matter is abstract and multiscale –​as ‘cognitive scaffolds’ for joint exploration and articulations (Hall, 1996; Waltorp, 2021). The case of Farkhunda and its circulation in a digital media ecology The events of 19 March 2015 have been reported in detail in newspaper and mainstream media coverage in national Afghan news outlets such as the state

110  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou media network the Bakhtar News Agency, Tolo News, and international media such as The Guardian, the New York Times, the BBC, Al Jazeera and a myriad of other media outlets. Then-​president Ashraf Ghani condemned the lynching and ordered an investigation. Other officials were quick to endorse it.2 The following day, after Friday prayers, some prominent imams praised the crowds’ actions. But by evening the official narrative had changed, as it became clear that Farkhunda had not burned the Qur’an. This does not imply that the various alternative narratives did not still circulate. As an investigation by the Ministry of Hajj and Religious Affairs found no evidence that Farkhunda had burned the Qur’an, she went from being a figure of loathing to a martyr, an honour usually bestowed on soldiers fallen in (holy) war. The street where she was murdered was named Martyr Farkhunda Street (jada-​ye shahid Farkhunda) in her honour. More than 1,000 people gathered for her funeral, with a host of civil society associations and NGOs involved. In an unprecedented act for a country where burials are often male-​only events, her coffin was carried to the grave by women. However, no new laws were introduced to prevent violence against women as a consequence of these protests. Lack of access to the internet is crucial in a country where information does not travel easily, and where being a critical journalist is deemed extremely dangerous. This was the case also before the Taliban came into power again in August 2021, having held power in the country for a five-​year period from 1996 to 2001. In this period, women were forbidden to work outside the home or even to leave the house without a male guardian (a mahram). They could not attend school, and faced public flogging if they were found to have violated morality rules, such as the prescription to be fully covered. The question of the position of women in Afghanistan is debated worldwide as it is currently the only country not allowing its female population to attend school. There has long been concern for the situation and the general rights of women in Afghanistan, and that these would come under even more pressure during the peace process. The Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs committed to supporting the work for women’s rights and to strengthening civil society at the Tokyo Afghanistan Conference in 2012, and DANIDA (Denmark’s development cooperation) under the Danish Ministry of Foreign Affairs has been involved in initiatives focused on the role of women in the peace-​building process since. The Danish Institute of Human Rights has been active in Afghanistan since 2003 and knows of the long-​standing concerns held by Afghan human rights and women’s rights organizations, that women’s rights could be sacrificed in the pursuit of a political agreement with the Taliban in the peace process. The hashtags #NoPeaceWithoutWomen and #NoPeaceWithTheTaliban seem to have circulated in vain. The Taliban has urged the youth in Afghanistan to deploy social media in a ‘media jihad’ (Winter & Alrhmoun, 2020) and have been very visible in their online strategic communication, with ‘Voice of Jihad’ as the centrepiece, publishing in Pashto, Dari, Arabic, Urdu and English (Aggarwal, 2016).

Digital diaspora  111 This makes it clear how media are battlegrounds in terms of who has the power to represent the reality of others, and media participation is a matter of mobilization, skills, resources, infrastructure and networks (Bräuchler & Budka, 2020; Postill, 2018). The three large cities of Kabul, Herat and Mazar-​e-​Sharif are ‘connected’ in terms of Wi-​Fi and thus have access to the conversations taking place in the global digital media ecology. The rest of Afghanistan does not have the same network and access, which can be juxtaposed with neighbouring Iran, where Wi-​Fi coverage is more broadly distributed, even as the censoring in place may restrict the flow of information in other ways. The digital-​material infrastructure enables connectivity and a kind of public that is mediated and technologically networked (boyd, 2010; Ito, 2008; Waltorp, 2018). In short, digital media is used to make things public, and to make them into matters of concern (Marres, 2005). Below we look at how these processes play out across the micro-​and macro-​scales, across Afghanistan and its diaspora in Denmark in relation to the case of Farkhunda. How images and information flow across Afghanistan and Denmark We are sitting in an apartment in Aarhus on 8 March 2019. It is International Women’s Day. We are planning the film which we have been crafting together in the tradition of ‘ethno-​fiction’ collaborative film-​making (Rouch, 2003; Waltorp & ARTlife Film Collective, 2021). Our discussion revolves around how to start our film, which is about the everyday life of young Afghan Danish women. Asma M. Safi has found quite a lot of poems online, as we have discussed opening the film with a Danish landscape rushing by while a voice recites an Afghan poem. Sama has her baby with her, and her mother, Malalai Kargar, has joined us to babysit so that Sama can take part in the film project. However, Malalai is as engaged in our discussions and planning as the women in the film collective. Asma complains that there are many poems celebrating the beauty of the Afghan woman, but she has trouble finding a celebration of the strong independent woman, which was what she was looking for (see Figure 7.1). Malalai suggests that there are quite a lot of poems, also many about Farkhunda, who was strong in her belief and actions and subsequently became a martyr. Sama speaks to ‘Siri’ on her mobile phone, with her baby on her arm. She asks Siri about the date for the killing of Farkhunda, remembering that it was close to the Persian New Year, Nowruz, and mentions the overwhelming condemnation and protests from Afghans around the world. Asma recounts that she was in Afghanistan when the incident transpired. Despite being in the country, she did not hear about it on the news or other media, which Afghans in Denmark did. There was nothing in fact. This raises the question of how images and information circulate and who sanctions the versions told. How such events are told and circulated in

112  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou

Figure 7.1 Asma M. Safi with smartphone in hand. Image credits: Karen Waltorp.

mainstream media and digital infrastructures differ significantly depending on where you are situated. –​ Asma: There were no demonstrations, not in Jalalabad, where I was. That was in Kabul. But we didn’t see that on TV. We heard about it from my uncle, that there had been an incident. But, you know, you don’t watch TV that much in Afghanistan. I mean, you do, but not those kinds of things. We definitely know much more about the Afghan news ‘up here’ in Denmark, than they do. On the other hand, if they were watching news all the time, they would live in constant fear. –​ Sama: That’s true, yeah. –​ Asma: So I think they watch TV, but not the same things! –​ Sama tries Siri again: When was Farkhunda murdered?[…] When was the woman named Farkhunda murdered in Afghanistan? –​ Asma: I think people were simply, how can I put it, turned on –​like in a frenzy –​by what was being said. –​ Sama: You mean the rumour that was spread about her? –​ Asma: Yes, just all of a sudden, it was a matter of a few hours… –​ Sama: They said she had burned the Qur’an. –​ Asma: Which she hadn’t. –​ Sama: Yeah, she didn’t, but the fact that an imam had said it, he has a very respected position in Afghan society, so the fact that an imam presented the claim was received by the mob with no source criticism at all.

Digital diaspora  113 Malalai adds a point in Dari and the conversation continues in a mix of Dari and Pashto, with Asma and Malalai fluent in both. In the meantime, Sama continues scrolling on her mobile phone, changing into English, reading aloud what the Google and Siri search has shown on her small screen –​ Asma, continuing in Danish: Either way, it’s half of Kabul that ought to be punished for what happened [Sama agrees], because how many participated? And then only a few men are punished, and they might walk free after maybe 4 years –​so it’s not like something really happened to them… Malalai has searched on her mobile phone and shows the result to Asma, speaking in Dari. Sama interrupts in Danish: –​ Sama: But I don’t know if you watched the video, that was shared, but there were many people –​I mean small children also participated, kicking her and it was just utterly awful. –​ Asma: Yes, but how is it that among all these men, no one said stop? Then everyone present has been a part of it, had a stake in it. –​ Sama: It was also very symbolic that when she was buried, they said ‘no man should dare touch her coffin’. It was the women themselves who carried her. Sama continues speaking, while addressing her baby son and trying to get him to sleep. –​ –​ –​ –​

Asma: Now, they erected a pole, or kind of monument, in her honour. Sama: Yes, a statue. Asma: A remembrance. Sama: But it created so much momentum –​people taking to the streets to demonstrate and protest.

The above conversation makes it clear how the media operates very differently for Asma whether she is in Jalalabad or in Kabul or in Copenhagen or Sønderborg in southern Denmark. The same news, images and narratives will circulate differently, be connected differently, and this is pivotal when considering how a diasporic networked public comes into being around this case. Afghans in diaspora and urban residents share easier access to news circulating that is pro-​human rights and women’s rights. The critical youth, consisting of human rights activists and intellectuals, are mostly found in the larger cities in Afghanistan, such as Herat, Mazar-​E Sharif and Kabul, as well as on social media. This is a key point: the movement that is growing within Afghanistan is in large measure also found on social media, which more easily connects diasporic Afghans with like-​minded people, allies in the fight for these changes within the country. Hasina Safi, director of the Afghan Women’s Network, a coalition of advocacy groups, said: ‘We are going to begin again

114  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou tomorrow to organize on social media, and we are trying to take this case up internationally […] Justice for Farkhunda is justice for all of Afghanistan’s women’ (Nordland & Sukhanyar, 2016). Plural feminism(s) and their different trajectories Malalai Kargar, the mother of Sama Sadat Ben Haddou, co-​ author of this chapter, has been a part of many conversations in the ARTlife Film Collective. She worked with women’s rights in Afghanistan, before fleeing to Denmark 28 years ago. Social media allows for Malalai to be more actively involved in terms of the politics she believes in and the change she wishes to see in Afghanistan. This entails communicating to the world how events in Afghanistan are crimes against humanity and therefore a moral problem for all. Malalai, now in her sixties, led a politically active life in Afghanistan prior to fleeing, and speaks from a specific position of enunciation (Hall, 1980): She is in the diaspora, having fled as the mujahideen came into power in 1992 as she was an active member of the People’s Democratic Party of Afghanistan (PDPA) and could therefore no longer stay in the country with her family. Prior to this, she was deeply engaged in working for women’s rights in some of the poorest Afghan provinces. I worked with the organisation ‘Democratic Women’ in Afghanistan. We had a focus on securing education for women in all of Afghanistan, especially the women who found themselves out of the larger cities. I have travelled with organisations to villages very far away from any cities, where we offered education and training in anything from seeking a job and being on the job market, health and healthy habits, children and pedagogy etc. The main objective was to invite the women to be more active and secure that they had a knowledge of their rights as women in Afghanistan. In addition to that, it was important to support the women with funding and aid, such as donations of medicine to the hospitals and hygienic products to the women. Malalai is one example of what Deniz Kandiyoti points to when she asks about the women civil society activists who had worked tirelessly, both at home and in the diaspora, and who have no wish to see their hard-​won gains being annulled yet again? Surely dismissing them as Western-​looking and donor-​ driven would be a gross misrepresentation since their presence and activities are of long standing and there are a variety of tendencies among them […] The lures of looking for technocratic solutions or culturalist explanations in matters of gender equality may be great, but these can only be indulged in at the peril of ignoring the profoundly political stakes around different visions of Afghan society. (Kandiyoti, 2009)

Digital diaspora  115 There are various strands of discourse on gender and women’s rights in Afghanistan, according to Kandiyoti (2009). The first manifests itself in debates among Northern feminists and public intellectuals –​many of whom have little or no prior exposure to Afghanistan –​speaking to each other ‘through’ Afghan women. These debates are primarily anchored in the moral anxieties generated by the events of September 11, 2001, and the ensuing ‘war on terror’, what Kandiyoti dubs ‘feminism-​as-​imperialism’. Another strand of discourse emanates from UN agencies which, alongside various bilateral and multilateral donors, apply their global prescriptions for ‘best practice’ to gender activism, dubbed ‘engineering gender equality’, and finally, she says, there are sharp internal debates in Afghanistan involving parliamentarians, clerics, bureaucrats, the media and local NGOs concerning the acceptability of a rights agenda that mandates the expansion of women’s constitutional, political and civic rights. These reflect the power struggles between contending political factions that also use women’s rights for various ends. Decade-​old discussions raised by anthropologist Lila Abu-​ Lughod, among others, centre on the first: How the ‘woman question’ has been instrumentalized by U.S. politicians and media to defend the intervention in Afghanistan (Abu-​Lughod, 2002; Billaud, 2015; Kandiyoti, 2005, 2007; Lindisfarne, 2002). Afghan women have different interests and aspirations –​which are not necessarily in line with Western ideals of feminism –​for some, they are; while for others, the way forward is rather through an Islamically oriented feminism or alternative hybrid models. NGOs and civil society actors in and outside of Afghanistan have made the most of the window of opportunity that opened in 2001 (Lockett, 2010). With the signing of the Bonn agreement and democratic elections held in 2005 with women making up over 40% of the registered voters, there was a belief in change and successful lobbying for the participation of women in politics (Lockett, 2010, pp. 49–​50). Women-​focused NGOs that had worked out of Pakistan returned to the country, and the Afghan Constitution of 2003 granted women equal rights on par with men. In the diaspora and within the country, there has been ongoing advocacy –​and lobbying work to push for making this de jure equality materialize and become de facto acknowledged rights for women. The situation currently is a far cry from it. Malalai underscores that it is a great relief for her that she can partake more actively in the political debates in Afghanistan, as she has felt unworthy of the name given to her by her father, Malalai –​after the famous female Afghan freedom fighter Malalali who fought the British. She, Malalai Kargar, was to fight for women’s rights and against oppression and injustice, but had to flee. After having fled to Denmark, she found herself unable to fight in the way in which she wanted. But, as she adds: In recent years, social media has played an essential role in terms of political engagement. Particularly as there are more, also among the elderly population, who have a profile on Twitter, Instagram and Facebook. Social media has made the world smaller, in the sense that it is possible to be involved in

116  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou creating and executing a demonstration f.ex. In Kabul, but from the mobile phone here in Brøndby Strand (area West of Copenhagen, the capital of Denmark). The common citizen has become more enlightened or informed via social media, and has more knowledge of war, politics, the world situation etc. Irrespective of the educational level of the person, more citizens have an insight into what is happening in Afghanistan, as there is more being posted from the Afghan side; videos are shared and articles written. Malalai underscored in our follow-​up interview: This [the digital possibilities] have heightened the political engagement from [Afghan] citizens in Denmark, especially the younger generation, where many have not even experienced their motherland. But now there is an interest and engagement in the political debate. Social media has become an important tool to gain knowledge […] and has resulted in an increased interest and involvement politically. Many members of the diaspora, fleeing Afghanistan as mujahideen came into power, and later the Taliban, align at times with the values and views on gender that are forwarded by the UN and a number of Western institutions and donors. They are then dismissed because of this alignment, by some actors in Afghanistan, as a ‘Trojan Horse’ of Western imperialism, even as their position may be originating in a longer political tradition and networks within Afghanistan and the region, as we discussed above. The matter is utterly complex, as is evident from the interview with Malalai, who has been actively working for women’s rights in Afghanistan since she was a teenager. Her activism overlaps with her political viewpoints in terms of party politics as a former PDPA member. Her socialist viewpoints make her opposed to some of the political actors within Afghanistan, who prefer a set of more conservative values, as also pertains to the position of women in Afghan society. To them, a woman like Malalai is unthinkable. The divergence between larger cities and countryside, again, must also be factored in. Finally, this is also a ‘digital divide’ pointing to different media ecologies, reflected in Asma M. Safi’s narrative of how she and her family in Jalalabad came to know about the events through her uncle and not (social) media. She concludes that the Afghan diaspora in Denmark are better informed as to the goings-​on in Afghanistan, than many inside the country. People in diaspora are viewed at times as those who ran away when the war was at its worst, but came back quickly as experts, politicians and businessmen to ‘get their share of the cake’; therefore, associations (and governments) have to be very careful when carrying out projects in the country (Nyberg-​ Sørensen et al., 2018, pp. 95–​96). The local population and the associations do not always perceive what is the biggest need in the same way as do donors and foreign institutions. Danish norms regarding gender –​and equality –​can clash with local imaginaries and power hierarchies (Nyberg-​Sørensen et al.,

Digital diaspora  117 2018, pp. 95–​96; Marsden, 2010), just as internal clashes on these questions are recurrent. However, to perceive the ideals of Afghan women’s position both in the home and in public as a Western-​introduced ideal is mistaken; the trajectories of political thought in Afghanistan defy this. Various actors within Afghanistan and in diaspora seek to influence politics. In this, the importance of local networks, knowledge and cultural sensibilities is pivotal. The ‘progressive’ voices in Afghanistan seem to align with those who are vocal in diaspora –​seen clearly in the mobilizing around protests against what happened to Farkhunda –​and the case has become emblematic in terms of how people use social media to mobilize people around the direction in which they wish to see Afghanistan headed, and what the role of women in Afghanistan could be in the future. ‘Together we’re stronger’ –​a diasporic networked public The memorial event for Farkhunda in the Danish capital Copenhagen, followed by vigils in the cities Aarhus and Odense, took place in March 2015, simultaneous with international protests in the US, Germany, France and many other countries. The Afghan associations initiating the event stated that their aim was to distance themselves to the horrific act and to pay respect to the victim. They wished to send a signal by standing together against extremism and the deeds carried out in its name, as formulated by the Afghan Youth Association Denmark (AYAD). ARTlife Film Collective member and former president of AYAD, Nilab Totakhil, took part in the demonstration and posed with the poster #IamFarkhunda in the video produced from the event, shared on the Facebook page of AYAD. The video ends with the words (in Danish) ‘Together we’re stronger’. The compilation of people with the sign counts both men and women, young and old. In Copenhagen, banners with Farkhunda’s bloody face were carried, with people shouting #iamfarkhunda and #justiceforfarkhunda at Copenhagen Central Square on a Sunday afternoon, with a candlelight vigil in front of the Town Hall, and women with the Afghan flag painted on their cheeks. The same imagery was circulated in social media: the candlelight, the Afghan flag and flowers –​always red roses –​with images of Farkhunda’s bloody face and hands on banners and posters. The hashtags trended on Twitter, Facebook, Viber, WhatsApp and Instagram. As outlined in the methods discussion above, we scraped the most commonly used hashtags on Twitter in relation to this case with the help of Yani Kartalis, postdoc at DataLab at the Faculty of Social Sciences, University of Copenhagen. A so-​called Twitter scrape 2015–​2020 shows that during the months immediately after the event, activity was high, and then decreased drastically after a year. An exception is each year on the day of Farkhunda’s death. The below visualization shows Twitter activity globally. The chosen visualization includes the hashtags that were scraped: #Farkhunda, #IamFarkhunda and #Justice4Farkhunda and those same hashtags in the Perso-​ Arabic

118  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou alphabet. The chart is dominated by the hashtag Farkhunda (in the Roman alphabet) and shows peaks in 2015 around 22 March as women carried Farkhunda’s coffin from an ambulance to a prayer ground and then later to a graveyard in Chaikhana, northern Kabul; and on 23 March as hundreds of women protested the attack and demanded that the government prosecute those responsible for the murder of Farkhunda. Kabuli women’s rights activist Frozan Marofi wrote about this protest movement in The Guardian on 28 March 2015: ‘The word spread on Facebook, on Twitter, on Viber. We were in touch with the whole world; everyone supported us’. Twitter is only one of the platforms where information about this case was discussed, and so the circulation of discourse online was much broader than indicated in the Twitter data visualization presented here (see Figure 7.2). Our argument is that people are acutely aware of social media as a platform to connect with those sympathetic to their struggle and outrage, and seek to utilize it best they can, when there is momentum –​and we need both qualitative and quantitative methods to understand these media ecologies and political diasporic communication. On 24 March, thousands of women and men marched through Kabul chanting ‘We are all Farkhunda!’ and protested in front of the Afghan Ministry of Justice in Kabul. Some of these protesters painted their faces red to mirror the image of Farkhunda’s bleeding face. A smaller but significant peak in the chart is also centred on the bodily performance that intersects in interesting ways with digital images spreading in social media. On 27 April, actor Leena Alam and her fellow actors re-​enacted the attack as a public theatrical performance during a protest in Kabul. The performative and embodied element of the protests were significant, and protesters smeared fake blood on their own faces and hands in homage to Farkhunda’s bloodied face (Rahman, 2017, p. 180). These iconic, red-​painted faces and red hands were circulated on social media with the hashtags mentioned above; the Instagram image-​sharing platform was widely used for these visually striking images (see also Fluri & Lehr, 2019). In May 2015, there are significant peaks corresponding with the court sentencing on 5 May: Of 49 suspects tried in the case, four men were originally sentenced to death for their role in Farkhunda’s lynching and eight other defendants were sentenced to 16 years in prison. On 19 May, the last peak of the chart corresponds with the sentencing to one year in prison of 11 police officers, and of these a local district police chief, for failing to protect Farkhunda. In early July, there is a peak as it became public knowledge that three of the four men sentenced to death had their sentences reduced to 20 years in jail, while the fourth was resentenced to ten years. This prompted street protests. Our visualization of Twitter data below only shows activity until the end of June. There were smaller peaks in activity, however, in August 2015, as a panel of lawyers appointed by then-​President Ashraf Ghani recommended to the Supreme Court of Afghanistan that those accused of her killing be retried. In an examination of the outcome of the court proceedings by 11 August, the Our World documentary The Killing of Farkhunda was broadcast on BBC UK, and in North America on 13 August 2015. On 19 March 2016, the Women’s

newgenrtpdf

Digital diaspora  119

Figure 7.2 Visualization by Karen Waltorp with the aid of Yani Kartalis, SAMF Data Lab.

120  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou Political Participation Committee, an Afghan civil society organization, called for a re-​evaluation of the Supreme Court’s decisions with more transparency. The last peak we identified on the 2015–​2020 visualization is activity and tweets with #Farkhunda in Farsi in the period leading up to 8 March when the Supreme Court granted significant sentence reductions to 13 men convicted in relation to the murder of Farkhunda. After that, activity diminished, and in a normal seven-​day week in 2020, the activity with the above hashtags was rarely seen on Twitter. Looking at hashtags in both the Perso-​Arabic alphabet and the Roman alphabet shows that the trends (mostly) align in national and international tweets. This prompts the question: How to keep the attention of the international community on the situation of women in Afghanistan, and what role does social media play in these efforts? This case might be perceived as one among several in the region, slowly building momentum in new ways, courtesy of digital media. This is yet to be seen.3 An afterword: what now for Afghan women? Digital technologies afforded a networked public across Afghanistan and its diaspora to emerge (momentarily) around the case of Farkhuna and women’s resistance. We do not mean to imply that those same technologies are not used to the opposite ends, as mentioned in the introduction. Studies have focused on how digital technologies are used in promoting extremism as well as democracy (Aggarwal, 2016; Bräuchler & Budka, 2020; Postill, 2018), with the Taliban notoriously media-​savvy and running the most popular website in Afghanistan ‘Voice of Jihad’ (Aggarwal, 2016; Winter & Alrhmoun, 2020). The Taliban use the WhatsApp application intensely, among other social media, as do other similar groups in Afghanistan: When 22 students were killed at Kabul University in a 2020 attack, this was claimed by ISIL, Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant, in a message on the Telegram messaging app, for example (Latifi & Hossaini, 2020; Al Jazeera). In terms of the potential of digital media in the development of new forms of political mobilization and civic engagement (Postill, 2012), this requires leaving behind earlier models of mobilization based on face-​to-​face communication, taking the logic of digital technologies into consideration. The proposed concept of a ‘diasporic networked public’ has helped us in elucidating the case of Farkhunda as an instance of the friction and the fighting over women’s position in Afghan society. We have shown in this chapter how the case of Farkhunda is entwined with mainstream media and journalistic outlets as well as more personalized social media. We shared an excerpt from a discussion in our ARTlife Film Collective that took place in Denmark, reflecting the scale of intimate (auto)ethnographic fieldwork. We drew attention to the different versions of what happened to Farkhunda when reaching someone located in Jalalabad at the time, relative to the version which reached someone in the diaspora in Denmark, smartphone in hand and thus connected to a wider, and quite different, information flow and media ecology. In social media, the

Digital diaspora  121 treatment of Farkhunda, and of women in Afghanistan more generally, spread and resulted in protests on the ground in Afghanistan and in larger cities across the US and Europe, where Afghan diaspora and allies rallied. This shows that political communication in diaspora is transformed with the expansion of new digital communication technologies. On the intimate, personal scale, Malalai Kargar’s story is an example of this changed landscape for engaging politically. However, the impact of efforts in social media is undetermined in terms of new legislation, implemented policies and the tangible impact of the alliances forged in the political processes in Afghanistan currently. On 29 February 2020, the Afghan Taliban signed a conditional peace agreement with the United States, which was followed by the inaugural round of negotiations with the Afghan government six months later. This was the first-​ever time the Taliban had officially engaged in talks with the Afghan government. The position of women was at the centre of many disagreements and impasses in the 2020 Infra-​Afghan peace talks in Doha, Qatar, with the US, the Ashraf Ghani-​led government and the Taliban together around the table. The status of these agreements remains uncertain after the Taliban takeover of the country, which is now an emirate. The leadership has articulated various paradoxical stances on the future position of women in Afghan society, and the country has seen the de facto closing of schools and educational institutions for girls and women. On 7 September 2021, the Ministry for the Propagation of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice was established, a state agency in charge of implementing Islamic law in the new Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan as defined by the Taliban. This takes the position of women in Afghan society in the opposite direction of what was hoped for by the diasporic networked public, which was sparked into being by the issue of Farkhunda’s brutal killing. Protesters across the on-​and offline dimensions in the case of Farkhunda, and the hard-​won gains by human rights and women’s rights activists working for decades in the country –​notable long before the US invasion –​have been set back. The women protesting in the street are, in the majority of cases, Hazara women, the ethnic minority most at peril in the current situation, and with nothing to lose. This is what Afghan Danish women in the Film Collective underscore: Those who hope to be able to go under the radar will not partake in any public protest on-​or offline against the Taliban. Those who have nothing to lose are in the streets with banners, hoping to go viral and catch the attention of the (social) media, and in this way keep the diasporic networked public alive in the media platforms and thus visible for more powerful decision makers. Many members of the Afghan diaspora in Denmark fight for a more democratic development in their former home country, drawing on digital media and communication technology to be able to keep a close eye on developments in the region, and to impact these developments. They experience that these multifaceted strategies do have an impact. The younger generation invests in politics in Afghanistan in other ways, that is, posting on various social media platforms and doing voluntary work with organizations active in Afghanistan (Waltorp & Totakhil, 2021).

122  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou The case of Farkhunda is an apt example of how Afghans in diaspora in Denmark seek to impact politics in Afghanistan and garner support from the international community in doing so. As the AYAD Facebook video on the Copenhagen vigil ended, ‘Together we’re stronger’. This feeling was augmented with the affect produced via images flowing of vigils across countries and cities around the world saying #IamFarkhunda and claiming #justice4Farkhunda, as well as the high numbers of tweets across the world. Malalai Kargar, whose views on digital political communication we have delved into above, believes no one should turn a blind eye to what is happening in Afghanistan. Many states are implicated in a myriad of ways in the politics of the country with high political stakes, Denmark included.4 As part of a digital diaspora, Malalai draws on social media in her efforts. We give her the last word in this chapter, as she underscores, ‘what happens in Afghanistan politically and specifically with regards to the position of women in society is a matter of concern to all’. Notes 1 The overall ARTlife project was funded by Aarhus University Research Foundation, initiated in the wake of the so-​called European refugee crisis –​a burning issue in the media and in political debate. In the social sciences and the humanities, the crisis was generally framed within pre-​existing concepts like ‘settlement process’, ‘cohesion’, or ‘integration’, whereas the ARTlife-​project proposed a radically different approach: In collaboration with Afghans residing in Denmark, we experimented with the methodological and conceptual affordances embedded within the technologies of photography, film, social media, theatre and material objects in an attempt to understand what recently arrived refugees and Danish Afghans, who might have lived in the country for decades, perceive as the challenges of everyday life in Denmark. 2 Including the deputy minister of information and culture, Semin Ghazal Hasanzada, and Kabul police spokesman Hashmat Stanekzai. 3 The country-​wide protests in Iran and the diaspora following the death in police custody of 22-​year-​old Mahsa Amini –​who had allegedly not worn her hijab properly, according to the morality police –​had not occurred when this chapter was submitted. It is, however, a case in point in terms of how these incidents may lose momentum over time as singular events, but they arguably jointly build towards a larger mobilization. 4 The Danish part in the US-​led intervention has been heavily criticized, mainly for perpetuating the same mistakes other foreign powers have made before them in the region (see Marsden, 2010).

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124  Karen Waltorp and Sama Sadat Ben Haddou Nordland, R., & Sukhanyar, J. (2016, March 8). Afghan court confirms reduced sentences in mob killing of Farkhunda. New York Times. Nyberg-​Sørensen, N., Vammen, I. M. S., & Kleist, N. (2018). Mellem bistand og selvhjælp: Nye perspektiver på diasporagruppers engagement i dansk udviklingsbistand, DIIS Report, No. 2018:05. Danish Institute for International Studies (DIIS). Poell, T., & van Dijck, J. (2015). Social media and activist communication. In C. Atton (Ed.), The Routledge companion to alternative and community media (pp. 527–​537). Routledge. Postill, J. (2012). Digital politics and political engagement. In H. Horst & D. Miller (Eds.), Digital anthropology (165–​184). Berg. Postill, J. (2018). The Rise of Nerd Politics: Digital Activism and Political Change. Pluto Press. Rahman, F. (2017). Farkhunda’s legacy: Gender, identity, and shifting societal narratives in Afghanistan. Feminist Review, 117, 178–​185. Reed-​Danahay, D. (2009) Anthropologists, education, and autoethnography. Reviews in Anthropology, 38(1), 28–​47. Rogers, R. (2015). Digital Methods. MIT Press. Rouch, J. (2003). Ciné-​Ethnography. University of Minnesota Press. To, N. (2015). Diasporic montage and critical autoethnography: Mediated visions of intergenerational memory and the affective transmission of trauma. In B. T. Knudsen & C. Stage (Eds.), Affective methodologies: Developing cultural strategies for the study of affect (pp. 69–​96). Palgrave Macmillan. Waltorp, K. (2020). Why Muslim women and smartphones: Mirror images. Routledge. Waltorp, K. (2021). Multimodal sorting: The flow of images across social media and anthropological analysis. In B. R. Winthereik & A. Ballestero (Eds.), Experimenting with ethnography: A companion to analysis. Duke University Press. Waltorp, K., & ARTlife Film Collective (2021). Isomorphic articulations: Notes from collaborative film-​work in an Afghan-​Danish film collective. In F. Martinez, L. D. Puppo, & M. D. Frederiksen (Eds.), Peripheral methodologies: Unlearning, not-​ knowing and ethnographic limit (pp. 115–​130 ). Anthropological Studies of Creativity and Perception. Routledge. Waltorp. K., & Totakhil, N. (2021). Why care?: Volunteer work and the ethical demand among young Afghan-​Danes. Contemporary Islam, 15, 169–​186. Special issue: Muslim care beyond the Sel. https://​doi.org/​10.1007/​s11​562-​021-​00469-​z Winter, C., & Alrhmoun, A. (2020, November). Mapping the extremist narrative landscape in Afghanistan. Extract. https://​pub​lic-​ass​ets.ext​rac.io/​repo​rts/​ExTr​ac_​A​fgha​ nist​an_​1​120.pdf

8 Whom do the diaspora members interact with when there are elections in the ‘homeland’?1 Dağhan Irak

Introduction Immigration has been a reality in Europe for the last seven decades, as the war-​ torn continent was rebuilt by the efforts of the invited immigrant workforce in the 1950s. Thousands of these workers opted to stay in these countries, creating dynamic immigrant communities with distinct collective and individual actions and strategies. Even though the classical definition of the term dictates a forced separation from the homeland due to disasters like a war or genocide, these communities fully qualify to be called ‘diasporas’, as a still partly unresolved cultural trauma lies behind their emergence. The Turkish-​speaking diasporas (in the plural, since these are multiple communities with important socio-​cultural, religious and ethnic differences), are prime examples of immigrant groups that evolved to become diasporas, as millions of close-​knit individuals in Europe, tied to the homeland with unbreakable bonds, and constituting a political force in both the country they live in and the country of origin. In France, according to the French statistics body the National Institute of Statistics and Economic Studies (INSEE) (‘Étrangers –​Immigrés’, 2019), 249,000 people with ties to Turkey live in France, while the official numbers compiled by the Foreign Ministry of Turkey (‘Hangi Ülkede’, 2019) indicate 700,000 citizens, half of whom are estimated to have dual nationality. The citizens of Turkey living abroad have been allowed to vote in the legislative and presidential elections, as well as constitutional referendums, since 2014. Diaspora members have no designated representatives in the parliament, but their votes are added to the national tally to be proportionally allocated to district polls, which can shift the election results. The political importance of the Turkish-​speaking diasporas in Europe raises the question of whether diaspora members are actively engaged with homeland politics during electoral campaigns. The participation level in the elections was overwhelmingly lower among diaspora members, compared to citizens living in Turkey, in the last legislative and presidential elections of 2018, with 50.1% in Europe compared to 86.2% in Turkey. The abstention rate among the diasporas, which DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-8

126 Dağhan Irak is incomparably higher compared to Turkey, is often associated with the third generation not being too interested in the politics of the ‘homeland’. The principal aim of this research is to analyse the online interactions of Turkish-​speaking users in France during the 2018 electoral campaign, using their interactions (retweets and mentions) on Twitter. To reach this objective, a methodological exploration was required to detect Twitter-​using diaspora members in France, which entailed several challenges and the use of multiple methods, the documentation of which I deem necessary to help future researchers working on the use of social media by diaspora members. As a methodology, I preferred to use social network analysis, as diasporas are often considered to be networks, and the substantial number of sample diaspora members involved in the research was promising as far as revealing interesting clusters, distinguished by different political and cultural positions, and interests. The network map created by the aforementioned interactions gives important hints regarding the socio-​cultural and political segmentation of Turkish-​speaking diasporas in Europe; however, it did not produce any findings related to the meaning of messages, due to the social network analysis being a relationship-​based method. To alleviate this issue, I also created a network graph between users and frequent keywords used in the tweets. While this network graph cannot replace textual analysis, it positions keywords according to their relationships with users, therefore creating useful output on what sets of keywords create clusters, to suggest that they represent recurring themes. Diaspora as a social network Over time, the definition of ‘diaspora’ has changed a lot. From the classic definition of the concept that is associated with the displaced communities that survived an atrocity like the Jewish or the Armenian diaspora, broader understandings have come to fruition. In one of the widely accepted definitions of diaspora, Safran (1991, pp. 83–​84) qualifies diasporas according to six criteria: they or their ancestors, have been dispersed from a specific original ‘centre’ to two or more ‘peripheral’, or foreign, regions; they retain a collective memory, vision, or myth about their original homeland; […] they believe that they are not –​and perhaps cannot be –​fully accepted by their host society and therefore feel partly alienated and insulated from it; they regard their ancestral homeland as their true, ideal home and as the place to which they or their descendants would (or should) eventually return –​when conditions are appropriate; they believe that they should, collectively, be committed to the maintenance or restoration of their original homeland and to its safety and prosperity; and they continue to relate, personally or vicariously, to that homeland in one way or another, and their ethnocommunal consciousness and solidarity are importantly defined by the existence of such a relationship.

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  127 Cohen (2008, pp. 6–​7), based on Safran’s definition, proposed new features to the concept, such as the ‘imagined homeland’; however, his most important contribution to the debate was bringing up ‘solidarity with co-​ethnic members in other countries’, therefore taking a step towards perceiving diasporas as a network. Meanwhile, Butler (2001, p. 192) also added another dimension to the definition by suggesting that having two or more generations should be a prerequisite in qualifying a community as a diaspora since it would define that their situation would not be temporary exile. While these and other contemporary definitions suggest broader perspectives on the concept, the increase in the number of migrant communities qualified as diasporas has also become controversial and subject to criticism, as in Brubaker (2005, p. 8), who claims that immigration studies scholars had already abandoned simplistic perceptions of the subject before diaspora re-​emerged as a ‘fashionable’ term. A little paradoxically, most attempts at resimplifying the subject against a sea of new definitions, like Brubaker’s article, have brought up new definitions themselves. Therefore, even though considering every migrant community as a diaspora may indeed appear to be open to debate, it is also clear that the term ‘immigrant’ no longer corresponds to most migrant communities concerning various aspects. In this regard, the most important of all aspects should be, in our view, the agency issue. Most migrant communities are stripped of their agency when they are uprooted, dispersed, and displaced. Therefore, in most cases, they are initially not in a place where they can define themselves, but somebody, usually from the host environment, defines them on behalf of them, and even sometimes despite them. The displacement rarely takes place through a negotiation between the host and the migrant community; rather, it is more dominantly based on dire and urgent conditions. That is why the inclusion of the newcomer community to the host is often subject to one-​sided expectations of the latter that will later shape the perceptions, actions and strategies of the community which will eventually settle down. These perceptions, actions and strategies emerge along with a social structure that materialises depending on one fundamental goal: survival. Yet, these relationships and the social structure that they stand upon eventually will integrate a new function, renegotiating the dispersal and arrival that they were not in the position to bargain for before. This new process will bring interactions with different actors, from the host society, the society of origin and maybe other communities that will take part in such negotiations, like the solidarity networks proposed by Cohen, or other migrant communities that are in a similar position within the host society. All these transactions will finally and inevitably constitute a dynamic social network where a multilayered web of interactions and negotiations takes place. The constitution of this social network is the exact difference between the ‘immigrant community’ and the ‘diaspora’; one is perceived to be stable and isolated, while the other is in an ever-​changing web of relationships with countless different actors. These are indeed rhizomatic structures as well, as in the sense of Deleuze and Guattari’s conception of rhizomes ‘connecting any point to any other point’ and ‘composed of […] dimensions’ (1987, p. 21),

128 Dağhan Irak references to which can also be found in Gilroy (1993, pp. 4–​5) and Clarke (2000, pp. 12–​13), among others. Like Ghorashi and Boersma (2009, p. 670) suggest diasporas not only constitute ‘decentralized, distributed [therefore rhizomatic] patterns of human organizations’, these networks also tend to be mediated. Accordingly, the social network approach that is the core perspective of this chapter appears to be an accurate manner of perceiving the diaspora communities of today, and mediated communication offers a suitable environment to observe and analyse these networks through information and communications technology (ICT) platforms. The online presence of diasporic communities constitutes forms of networked publics (Diminescu & Loveluck, 2014, p. 13), the actors of which are of a culture of bonds that extends their community territories beyond national borders (Diminescu, 2008, pp. 567–​ 568). Therefore, the use of ICTs contributes to diaspora networks through two distinct aspects: visibility and magnitude. ICTs circumvent the geographical and political boundaries that tend to keep diasporic networks restrained, and the visibility that their use creates also adds up to its effect as it creates a collective channel of communication for the entire web of actors. However, it should also be borne in mind that the bonds created using ICTs are not limited to the relationships with the ‘homeland’ and the host country but can be extended to broader networks on a global scale. In other words, the connected migrant communities are part of the network society as much as they have bonds with the countries they are from and settled in. For example, the third generations of diasporic communities in Europe are part of the global generation of ‘digital natives’ (Hargittai, 2010), perhaps to an extent that they can finally overcome the ‘double absence’ (Sayad, 1999) dilemma of being stuck between two cultures, creating a third, connected, way of cultural belonging. Another often neglected aspect of these mediated networks is the inter-​diaspora connections that may lead to diasporic solidarities based on shared common experiences. While, methodologically, this chapter questions the interactions rather than the messages themselves, it will also aim to trace these global and inter-​diaspora connections. (Social) media use of diasporas ICTs have always been an important part of diaspora studies since it has been widely accepted that these technologies create an unprecedented channel that connects diasporic communities to their countries of origin. While the internet, especially broadband connections since the 2000s, has created more possibilities to connect the diasporas to the home country, these technologies came within a context of globalisation, which not only meant a connection between these communities and the homelands but also with the world. This last change incited by ICTs coincided with the third generation of diasporas, who were born and educated in the host country, experiencing different and more complex belongings compared to the former generations. The internet, later the Web 2.0 technology that made online social interaction possible, and the

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  129 platforms built upon these ICTs created a multilayered sense of identity that is not exclusively fragmented according to the way the homeland is perceived. It was also segmented between the online and offline realms, the third-​generation diaspora members being ‘natives’ of the online one, just as their coevals. As might be expected, there have been many academic studies conducted on the use of this last wave of technologies, especially social media, by diasporic communities. As underlined by Love (2019, pp. 69–​70), these technologies have served as a ‘powerful tool to self-​determine and self-​define narratives and truths for themselves and people of their diaspora’, on many occasions. These ICTs also connected the diasporas to the homeland in a different, more active, way, since they created channels that have eliminated geographical distances to enable diaspora members to have an equally heard voice on matters that concern the homeland. For instance, according to Ghorashi and Boersma (2009, p. 667), the online transnational space changed the ‘dominant pattern of identity’ among Iranian diaspora members, from an exilic identity to a more diasporic identity that aims for change in the homeland. In many other countries, the diasporic communities tried to take part in the political transformations that the homeland experienced, notably during the ‘Arab Spring’ that took place in the early 2010s. For example, Touati (2012, p. 134) argues that the Tunisian diaspora in Europe played a relay role in diffusing events during the ‘Tunisian revolution’ in 2011. This argument was also shared by Poell and Darmoni (2012, p. 24), who state that the use of particular languages by diasporic networks during the events in Tunisia was affected by the fact that these users tried to address specific publics. Howard (2010, p. 142) underlines that the first Muslim communities that used the internet to make their voices heard were the diasporic communities, which created content on cultural matters, as well as political ones. Diasporic networks online proved helpful when the information flow was blocked in the homeland during political events. During interviews conducted by Poell (2014, p. 201), North African activists state that the key task of the diasporic network was ‘information escape, the reproduction, and structuring of information’, regarding liberating information from state censorship and making it public. Equally, the study of Al-​Rawi and Fahmy on the Syrian diaspora in Italy (2018, p. 90) reveals that ‘activists use Facebook as a platform for information dissemination on networking and arranging demonstrations and as a means to vent sentiments about the conflict’. However, especially regarding the third generation, the activities online are not limited to the political realm. As mentioned, this generation of diaspora members is also part of a broader generation, for whom online presence is often more powerful than offline. The online activities of the third generation do not necessarily reflect a world limited to the homeland and the host country; rather, they are part of a globalised society that shares similar cultural codes and practices, despite local differences. Li and Jung (2018, p. 2) stress that ‘diasporas constantly experience cultural fusions and much of their media consumption is not even ethnically specific’. Leurs (2015, pp. 236–​240) also reveals examples of multiculturality of online cultural consumption by Moroccan

130 Dağhan Irak Dutch diaspora members through YouTube that extends from Berberi artists to global names like Drake or Justin Bieber which ‘provide a glimpse at the layered affective identity construction beyond expectations of narrowly defined, stereotypical Moroccan-​Dutch identities’. As Georgiou (2010, p. 31) emphasises, ‘mediated and interconnected space becomes a space of contestation, of complex and often conflicting articulations of identity’. Therefore, it may be expected that these conflicting identities stemming from globalised practices may have also caused a generational gap among diaspora members that is accentuated by the digital divide between the first two generations and the third one. While the concept of the diasporic generational gap is discussed by various researchers (Guyotte, 1997; Huang, 2001; King & Christou, 2008; Naghdi, 2010; Rajiva, 2005, among others), the number of empirical studies that document this gap through online practices is low. In this chapter, the potential generational gap between the third and former generations will be one of the key points that I aim to look at. Social media plays a role also in the Turkish-​speaking diasporas’ communication with the homeland. Regarding social media, Turkey happens to be an important case, since the country has been among the top ten countries both in Facebook and Twitter use, and especially Twitter became an important platform for critical political debate during the 2010s as the Erdoğan regime increasingly controlled the mainstream media (Irak & Yazıcıoğlu, 2012). The Turkish-​speaking diasporas are no different, as social media created a way of participating in the political debate that they had been excluded from. Furthermore, the popularisation of social media use for political purposes coincided with a period when citizens of Turkey living abroad acquired voting rights in 2014. As Başer (2015, pp. 129–​180) notes, different diasporic communities like the Turks and the Kurds who originated from Turkey, started using Twitter and Facebook for political debate, a tendency that accelerated during the Gezi Park protests of 2013 (Ogan et al., 2016, p. 137). However, the politicisation over social media among diaspora members is not limited to homeland matters. Christensen (2012, p. 897) underlines that the younger diaspora members have a different media consumption and relationship with the host community, while the older generations are more tied to the homeland. Older generations are also on the disadvantaged side of the digital divide due to age (Loges & Yung, 2001, pp. 556–​557), and education level (DiMaggio & Hargittai, 2001, p. 7); therefore, their media consumption is more limited to more conventional and passive means, like television. On the other hand, younger generations are likely to abstain from politics in Turkey, as a study by Abadan-​Unat et al. (2014, p. 27) reveals that their attachment to the homeland is more on a cultural level than a political one. Also, their linguistic capabilities expand their mediatised communication scope, which should be expected to be revealed in our social network analysis, as this method uses mentions and retweets as the main data that would show users who interact with a wider selection of users. Equally, the lack of interactions with actors from politics in Turkey should be expected.

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  131 Methodology and challenges My study intentionally followed in the footsteps of e-​Diasporas Atlas, the stellar research coordinated by Dana Diminescu (2012). The study by Diminescu and her colleagues depended on social network analysis, using diaspora websites from different countries to create a network map of diaspora communities. The most important part of that work was that it used digital data to show diasporas are complex and multilayered networks with affinities and differences within. My study also took this principle as a reference; however, the way I wanted to advance that study to contribute to the field, was to work with individual users. Social network analysis (SNA) is a mathematical method that analyses and visualises the interactions (edges) between actors (nodes) within a network. While its roots are in mathematics, its use in sociology is constantly growing, due to the ‘social network’ nature of human communities. According to Scott (1988, p. 112), SNA in sociology ‘depicts agents –​individual or collective –​as embedded in webs of connections’. While social networks today are still predominantly in-​person and offline, the birth of Web 2.0 and eventually social media in the 2000s constituted a more visible and concrete version of social networks, which made it almost synonymous with online social platforms. The use of SNA in media sociology accordingly skyrocketed, as being able to ‘datify’ social interactions, albeit in limited online platforms and with technical/​proprietary challenges, allowed the scholars to visualise social networks globally and extensively, which was never possible before. In this spirit, I designed this research on the online interactions of Turkish-​ speaking diaspora users in France around SNA, to be able to visualise the digitally active diaspora members’ social interactions, as well as the topics these interactions revolve around. The main focus of our research is how the talking points reflect the real-​life agenda of the diaspora members. As an exploratory attempt, I designed my study around a sampling method that used Twitter’s search engine (not the search API) to detect Turkish-​ speaking users in France. This choice had two caveats: first, detecting the location of a user on Twitter is an arduous task (Graham et al., 2013, pp. 569–​570). Geolocation provides usable data, but it is an opt-​in feature on Twitter, which is preferred by fewer users. The location statement on Twitter profile pages also presents some data; however, it is not entirely dependable as it consists of information voluntarily given by the user, and there is no actual way to automatically verify that statement. Therefore, the location of the sample users had to be verified by manually searching some keywords in Turkish and French on these profiles, checking tweets with photos and looking at other contextual information that might help. In cases where I could not completely verify that the user is located in France, I discarded that user from the sample group. This heavy and manual clean-​up and verification process to have a usable sample resulted in only around a thousand users being included in the sample, out of 40,000 detected by the method. Additionally, as Twitter’s search operators do not have the

132 Dağhan Irak capability of detecting code-​switching between different languages, a common linguistic practice among diaspora communities, I also used a more conventional, secondary method: snowball sampling. After snowballing popular diaspora users, I had the sample of 1,500 total users ready. I collected the tweets of these users using the DMI-​TCAT tool (Borra & Rieder, 2014) during the legislative and presidential election campaign between 17 April and 24 June 2018, which provided over 250,000 interactions. For the data analysis and visualisation phase, Gephi software is used (Bastian, Heymann, & Jacomy, 2009). For this research, I preferred to use the active interactions by users instead of the follower-​ following relationship. For the visualisation phase of this

Figure 8.1 Social network map of interactions by the sample group of Turkish-​speaking diasporas in France. Note: The colour-​coded original image is available on www.dag​hani​rak.com/​diasp​ora2​018

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  133 research, I have considered the actors who do not belong to the sample group but interacted with them. The total number of actors in interactions is thus 68,197, of whom 15,000 most-​influential are filtered to be used in the final network graph, to make visualisation comprehensible. The purpose of not filtering the other users of the graph is that the presence of these users helps us define a more accurate position of the sample actors in the graph and helps achieve more accurate clustering. One of the main purposes of this research is to find out about diverse groups with affinity with each other and how these groups differ from each other. This objective requires clustering, that is, grouping actors with closer interactions together. For this purpose, the modularity class algorithm in Gephi is used, which makes the necessary calculations to group nodes in the network into clusters. Another algorithm that is used for the data analysis and visualisation is eigenvector centrality, the purpose of which is to define the most influential nodes within the network (Gökçe et al., 2014, pp. 679–​680). In the end, the following network map was created (Figure 8.1). Findings The user interaction graph

As a result of the network graph featuring user interactions, I identified eight clusters that contain a considerable number of nodes (> 3.5%). The breakdown of these clusters is given in Table 8.1. The total number of clusters is over 1,200; however, the vast majority of these consists of a few nodes and they are mostly insignificant. The percentage of nodes constituting those insignificant clusters is 22.48%. These nodes are mostly users who do not use Twitter frequently and/​or do not interact with others. One of the most important findings of our analysis is that the clusters consisting of users with an interest in politics occupy less than a quarter of the total network. The most crowded among them is Cluster no. 23, which hosts political actors from Turkey and France, as well as the political press. Among the Table 8.1 Main clusters revealed by the social network analysis Cluster number

Percentage of total nodes

80 41 23 187 910 33 59 26 Others

27.31% 17.25% 10.75% 7.06% 4.02% 3.87% 3.73% 3.53% 22.48%

134 Dağhan Irak top ten actors in this cluster according to their eigenvector centrality numbers, there is the French president, Emmanuel Macron (@emmanuelmacron); the French news channel BFM TV (@bfmtv); and the ultra-​ nationalist Good Party (İyi Parti–​İYİP) leader, Meral Akşener. This cluster is one of the multiple clusters that defy the common perception that the Turkish-​speaking community is only interested in politics in Turkey. Other French politicians like Benoit Hamon and Marine Le Pen also take part in this cluster. Kurdish political actors like the former HDP (Peoples’ Democratic Party) co-​leader Selahattin Demirtaş (currently in prison) also take part in this cluster, as well as Kurdish diaspora members. The two major political parties in Turkey, the ruling AKP (Justice and Development Party) and the main opposition CHP (Republican People’s Party), have their own clusters (187 and 910 respectively) in our network. However, these two parties that overwhelmingly dominate the political world in Turkey, occupy only around 11% of our network. Most of the diaspora users who belong to this cluster are the ones detected using the initial method; therefore, they use the Turkish language almost exclusively and belonging to older generations. President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan (@rt_​erdogan) is the most influential user in the AKP cluster; he is also the only user in the whole network that has a full 1.0 eigenvector centrality score. The other users in this cluster are miles behind Erdoğan, the second being the state-​run news agency Anadolu (@anadoluajansi) with a 0.23 eigenvector score. Former and current AKP politicians like Interior Minister Süleyman Soylu, former president Abdullah Gül, and prominent figures of the pro-​government media also belong to this cluster. Meanwhile, in the CHP cluster, Muharrem İnce (@vekilince), the party’s presidential candidate in the 2018 elections is the most influential user with a 0.57 eigenvector score. The media figures close to the CHP also rank highly in this cluster. Cluster number 33 is also partially a political cluster, which consists of diaspora users with nationalistic tendencies. This is not a cluster where politicians are influential. Accounts that promote Turkish nationalism like @ turkcupaylasim and @histoireturcs are among influential actors. This cluster mostly represents independent nationalist diaspora users with no party allegiance. This is one of the clusters where football is also discussed. Cluster number 59 is similar, except that nationalism is replaced by religion. This cluster predominantly consists of users with strong Sunni Islamic beliefs. One difference between this cluster and the nationalist one is the presence of Muslim users from other diasporas, namely of Moroccan and Algerian origin. While this is a rather small group, one can observe that religion plays a role in connecting diasporas with similar religious beliefs, despite other cultural differences. These aforementioned clusters representing the political world are far from dominating the network. The most dominant cluster, number 80, is comprised of individual diaspora members, mostly young people from the third generation, who use a creolised form of the Turkish-​French language. All the top

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  135 20 influential users in this cluster are France-​based diaspora members. Even though the method used is not related to textual meaning, a quick look at the messages shows that they are a quintessential representation of everyday life. Very few of the messages have a specific agenda, but are fast-​paced series of remarks on popular culture, current issues and everyday matters. While the conversation in this cluster is practically about everything and nothing, the number of interactions is higher than in any other cluster. Also, one observes young members from other France-​based diaspora communities in this cluster; they are included in the conversation as long as there is no language barrier. Some of the funny remarks made by users include differences between Turkish-​ speaking and other diasporas, which usually receive a reaction from members of those communities. In addition to this, current affairs that concern all young French citizens, like the newly introduced university entry system Parcoursup, generate interactions in that cluster. Cluster number 41 is another crowded group dominated by popular culture. Especially football dominates this cluster, and most users belonging to this cluster are male. One interesting aspect of this cluster is that the football discussion here is mostly about European football, including football matters in France. French football accounts such as @actufoot_​, @footballogue, and @vinesfoot are among the most influential users. This cluster contains several non-​Turkish speaking diaspora members as the previous one, suggesting that football connects the Turkish-​speaking diaspora members to France and the world. Even though an overwhelming majority of the sample group users support teams from Turkey, discussion about this type of fandom is limited to smaller clusters, like number 26 of Galatasaray supporters and 130 of Fenerbahçe supporters. Cluster number41 is a more universal sub-​network about football. User-​keyword graph

The user-​keyword graph (Figure 8.2) revealed findings compatible with the user interactions graph, however with small, yet important nuances. The interactions graph revealed three major clusters, respectively dominated by football, politics and everyday life. It is possible to say that the user-​keyword graph reveals similar findings; however, the boundaries between clusters are not clearly defined, the clusters are more permeable, and in some cases, small clusters bridge the major ones. Also, the clusters in the user-​keyword graph are permeable to such an extent that some words related to a different field may appear in another cluster, or a word belonging to a cluster can be positioned remarkably close to another cluster. Therefore, I believe that the positions of keywords within the graph are more relevant, and in most cases, clustering can be ignored, due to keywords being positioned extremely close and receiving interactions from many different users from different clusters. However, one can still detect three major groups of words within the network. In the middle, a bridge cluster (in green) that connects all the major clusters can be observed. This cluster features keywords like France, ‘Turquie’

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136 Dağhan Irak

Figure 8.2 Social network map of user-​keyword interactions by the sample group of Turkish-​speaking diasporas in France. Note: The colour-​coded original image is available on www.dag​hani​rak.com/​diasp​ora2​018

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  137 (‘Turkey’), Europe, ‘pays’ (‘country’), ‘président’ (‘president’), ‘état’ (‘State’), and Islam. It would be fair to say these are the keywords that interest a substantial number of users with different interests. Interestingly, two keywords related to the Israel-​Palestine issue ‘Israël’ and ‘Palestinien’ (‘Palestinian’) appear in this cluster, very central to the network. While further textual analysis would be definitive, it is possible to say the Israel-​Palestine issue receives a great amount of interest from the users within the network. The cluster on the bottom left of the graph (in blue) mostly contains political keywords such as ‘oy’ (‘vote’), ‘Erdoğan’, ‘Turk’, ‘İnce’ (Muharrem İnce, the opposition’s presidential candidate), along with ‘ak’ (for the AKP), AKP and PKK. Some religious words also appear remarkably close to this group, such as ‘Allah’, ‘Islam’ or ‘Ramazan’ (‘Ramadan’). The keywords other than the popular ones are positioned at the very bottom of the graph, far away from other clusters, suggesting the same limited crowd of intensive debate on the politics of Turkey that was seen in the interactions graph. General words like ‘political’, ‘party’ or ‘vote’ appear close to the other clusters, or they appear in bridge clusters. Also, the language becomes exclusively Turkish, moving away from the core of the network. On the other hand, the everyday life cluster (top-​right, in orange) overwhelmingly contains French words, as opposed to the political cluster, which mostly contained Turkish words. Words like ‘Père’ (father), ‘femme’ (woman), ‘turc’ (Turk), ‘famille’ (family), ‘dieu’ (God), Ramadan, ‘cours’ (‘lesson’), and ‘travail’ (‘work’) belong to this cluster. In terms of language differences, it is very striking that the Turkish and French words for Turk and Ramadan are positioned in different clusters and extremely far away from each other. Bearing in mind their positions with other keywords, this finding suggests that there should be two different groups of people experiencing identity matters like religion and ethnicity separately and expressing their views on these matters in different languages. This is very indicative of an age gap, especially since the Turkish words related to religion and ethnicity are placed close to the political keywords related to the politics in Turkey, while the French ones are positioned within the keywords related to the everyday life experience in France. On the other hand, religious keywords such as ‘amin’ (‘amen’), ‘musulman’ (‘Muslim’), and ‘mosquée’ (‘mosque’) are positioned closer to the cluster of keywords on politics in Turkey. The football-​related keywords are split in half between the large everyday life-​related cluster (in orange) and their separate cluster (left, in pink). The keywords appearing in the everyday life cluster are overwhelmingly in French, such as ‘équipe’ (‘team’), ‘match’, ‘supporter’ and ‘football’, along with the names of international football stars such as Salah, Messi, Ronaldo, and French ones such as Zidane and Benzema. Football-​related keywords in the Turkish language are mostly positioned in the other cluster, and this cluster is closer to the political cluster in which the keywords are predominantly in the Turkish language.

138 Dağhan Irak The user-​keyword graph suggests an important language-​based divide, in which everyday matters appear in the graph in French, while political keywords are mostly in Turkish. Even football is divided into two parts, International-​French football, and football in Turkey. The transitional bridge clusters suggest that the users who tweet on everyday life matters are not completely separated from politics, but they are not extremely invested in homeland politics either. In this graph, homeland and hostland matters are strictly separated, and the keywords bridging them are mostly religious. The network suggests that interest in religious matters is higher than ethnic matters; however, Turkey is still a central part of the network. It would nevertheless require further research to conclude that this network would at least produce the hypothesis that religion is more important than ethnicity for the young, French-​ speaking generation (that uses family and school-​ related French keywords in the everyday life cluster), and it is the principal link that ties them loosely to the homeland. Also, this user-​keyword confirms our observation that the language and topic-​based divide is also age related. The core of the everyday life cluster not only has ‘cours’ (‘lesson’) as a central keyword, but it also has ‘mdr’ and ‘ptdr’, two Internet slang terms that are the French equivalents of ‘LOL’ (‘laugh out loud’), and ‘fdp’, the French equivalent of ‘SOB’ (‘son of a bitch’). This cluster also has ‘mère’ (‘mother’), ‘père’ (‘father’), frère (‘brother’), and ‘soeur’ (‘sister’) as important keywords, while the Turkish-​language dominated political cluster has ‘çocuk’ (‘child’) instead. There is also ‘kardeşim’ (‘my brother’); however, this word is used as a term of address, as it is widely employed in Turkish and not as an actual reference to a sibling. Discussion As predicted, the social network analysis revealed a fragmented network map, comprised of several clusters that significantly represent very visible tendencies. My study reveals how everyday life dominates interactions. The everyday life conversation is hidden in plain sight; in diaspora communities and others, it generates the bulk of social messages, especially among young people. The young generations, like the third generation of diasporas, use social media as part of their daily socialisation with their peers, therefore expressing themselves about everything. Funny remarks and trying to gather social capital through likes and retweets are important parts of this practice. As our findings reveal, this conversation is also inclusive towards other people of the same generation, especially coevals from other diaspora communities, suggesting some inter-​diaspora solidarity. Also, it should be noted that our findings suggest that everyday life conversation is very family oriented since the family-​related keywords constitute an important cluster within the user-​keyword network. The scope and methodology of this study only partially cover the meaning of messages. The everyday conversation that occupies more than a quarter of our network needs and deserves further research focused on context and meaning.

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  139 Therefore, digital ethnographies based on the everyday social media use of third-​generation diaspora members are essential. Equally, popular culture, especially television and sports, holds importance in understanding diaspora communities, notably the young generations. In my study, media consumption was embedded in everyday life conversation, but sports, and football fandom in particular, stood out as a separate cluster. Football fandom in diasporas is often perceived as a withdrawn practice, as most diaspora members tend to use fandom to establish bonds with the homeland community. Especially in countries like Turkey, where football is wildly popular and interwoven with nationalism, supporting a local team may shape individual and collective identities towards a more homeland-​nationalist stance. However, football fandom is a global practice, and the teams that the diaspora members support belong to the globalised football world as much as to Turkey. Therefore, diaspora football fans are part of a global popular culture, which connects them to France, Turkey and the world. Football is an important conversation piece connecting young diaspora members with people from other communities, creating interactions that might not otherwise be possible. The fandom practices of diaspora football fans also require further attention, even though recent studies (like Szögs, 2017 and McManus, 2015) try to shed light on this topic. Regarding politics, as expected, all major factions of politics in Turkey are represented in our network map. The two major political parties, the AKP and the CHP, have their own clusters, albeit much smaller than expected. The users belonging to these clusters are more attentive to the politics in Turkey than others. The recent split within the Nationalist Movement Party (MHP) seems to reduce the visibility of institutional nationalist politics in our network; Turkish nationalism is represented rather as an idea. The anti-​and pro-​Erdoğan split in the political current seems to be visible in my study, as the pro-​Erdoğan MHP line is represented in a separate cluster close to the AKP, while the anti-​Erdoğan İYİP takes place within universal political actors. French media and politicians are also present in a bigger cluster on our map, which is interesting as the Turkish-​speaking diasporas are often deemed to be disinterested in French politics. Islamism is represented in the network graph through two clusters, one pro-​AKP, and one non-​AKP. The non-​AKP clusters represent more orthodox interpretations of the religion and include actors from other Islamic communities, whereas the pro-​AKP cluster is, as mentioned, all about politics in Turkey. However, these two clusters are very close to each other, with bridge users in between. A similar connection is also present between the AKP cluster and the Turkish nationalists. The pro-​AKP political clusters are more dominant than the opposition ones in our network, which is the opposite of the case in Turkey, where Twitter has been a stronghold for the opposition since the early 2010s (Irak & Yazıcıoğlu, 2012), to the extent that the government tried different methods such as blocking access and hiring professional ‘trolls’ to reduce the platform’s impact on its political power (Irak & Öztürk, 2017, p. 3).

140 Dağhan Irak In our belief, the difference between the political balance in Turkey-​based and France-​based users is that, in Turkey, Twitter has been dominated by cultural capital-​owning urban middle-​class users that are on the favourable side of the digital divide, who also tend to vote for the opposition (Irak, 2017, p. 253). In France, the digital divide is not as impactful. Also, Twitter was tardily localised into the Turkish language, which also added to the digital divide. In France, Turkish-​speaking diaspora members did not have this problem as they could use the platform in French. Moreover, Erdoğan and his party are more popular in the France-​based diaspora than they are in Turkey; in the 2018 presidential elections, he recorded 63.7% in France, as opposed to 53.6% in Turkey. Meanwhile, one similarity regarding the political use of Twitter among France-​based and Turkey-​based members is the invisibility of the Kurds. In my study, the Kurdish users were hardly visible, as they are in Turkey. This may have multiple reasons. First, since the 2014 presidential elections, Kurdish politics has been massively criminalised by the Erdoğan regime, and most of the leading Kurdish politicians are imprisoned today. The regime in Turkey is also known for persecuting people for social media use; therefore, Kurdish users who visit Turkey may refrain from using Twitter for political purposes. It is also possible that the Kurds in France are less invested in Turkish politics than those in Turkey. Regarding political interactions in our network, a generational gap is highly likely. The political clusters are comprised of users who use Turkish exclusively and mostly belong to older generations. In the two biggest clusters that feature many young users from the third generation, the politics of the homeland is completely absent. This finding is in line with the well-​accepted perception that third-​generation diaspora members from Turkey are not too interested in homeland politics, and they tend to abstain from voting as well. As far as French politics is concerned, third-​generation members are interested in the political matters that only directly affect them, like in the Parcoursup example. Otherwise, the young diaspora members in our sample group have very few political interactions and they rarely appear in political clusters. One important indicator of the generation gap among diasporic communities is the fact that the clusters that include older members are much smaller than the ones that are dominated by younger members. To sum up, third-​generation diaspora members seem to challenge most of the common perceptions about diasporic societies. They are more invested in the host country that they were born in than in the ‘homeland’. They are not interested in politics too much, but they use social media for everyday life matters and popular culture. They are equally connected to the host society and other diasporic communities as they are connected to the homeland society, if not more. Their agendas are more personal and daily. Even though they have a diasporic identity, they are not necessarily connected to diaspora sub-​networks that do not interest them. The cultural and social codes of the third generation of the diaspora are hidden in their everyday life and expressions, rather than political actions. Even though they do not conform

Whom do the diaspora members interact with?  141 to the established definitions of diasporic societies, they still have a distinctive identity that has put them in a particular position within the host society. The findings of our research confirm our initial presumption that diasporic networks are more fluid than often perceived by scholars, to an extent that their entire network structure may qualify as rhizomatic as they are inclined to split, join, create and recreate networks connected to many different points in other networks. The sub-​network of third-​generation diasporic members that is based on everyday life and connected to different layers of networks confirms this hypothesis. In our opinion, this new kind of structure has not yet been adequately studied. I hope my study will act as a point of departure for further research. Note 1 This research was conducted at Médialab, Sciences Po Paris, as part of a post-​ doctoral project funded by the PAUSE programme of Collège de France.

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9 Making an impact The role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark Thomas Brandt Fibiger

Introduction Every Friday night, as well as on special holidays, Bahrainis living in London –​ young and old, women and men, often more than a hundred people –​ gather in Chalton Street, behind London’s Euston Road at Dar al-​Hikma, or House of Wisdom, a Shia Bahraini community centre established in the early 1980s. Many people in this group have been exiled from Bahrain for political reasons. The community is therefore both religious and political, and this sets the tone of the speeches and conversations, both in Dar al-​Hikma and on the street just outside. According to people I have talked to in and around Dar al-​Hikma, the Bahraini community in London numbers around 500 people, depending on what ‘Bahraini community’ means. Not all are Shia, and not all are opposition in exile (others are in London as students, diplomats, or for business). The fieldwork and interviews on which this chapter is based, however, focus on the community for which Dar al-​Hikma is the main gathering place. The first Bahraini dissidents chose to settle in London in the 1970s around the time of the Islamic revolution in Iran, which in the years that followed severely impacted the Shia community in Bahrain and its relations with the Sunni Al Khalifa regime. In the 1990s, Bahrain experienced a full-​blown uprising against this regime –​not exclusively, but perhaps predominantly a Shia uprising –​and the community of exiles in London grew. After political reforms in 2001, many returned, but some stayed. And after the ill-​fated uprising in Bahrain in 2011 as part of the wave of the Arab Spring, a new generation of political activists fled to London. From there they, like their predecessors, have continued activities intended to put pressure on the government in Bahrain, as well as to encourage British and European governments to put pressure on Bahrain. This community, across these generations, is the focus of the present chapter. However, I also compare the highly activist and politically important community in London with the much smaller and largely non-​activist group of Bahrainis in Denmark. During the general persecution of Shia Islamists in Bahrain in the 1980s, some 17 Bahraini families were granted asylum in DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-9

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  145 Denmark. While most of this first generation returned to Bahrain after the political reforms of 2001, many of those coming of age in Denmark stayed. Unlike their diasporic brethren in London, however, most of these individuals, like most of the Bahrainis in Denmark I have met for this project, have no ambition to actively engage with the political situation in a country that they still, somehow, see as (a) home. The analysis in this chapter is therefore a comparative analysis of my material from the two Bahraini communities in London and Denmark, focusing on the role of activism, what defines activism, and where and what this activism is directed at –​ a point also related to the question of what and where home is. Using a phrase from one of my Danish interlocutors, I argue that home is where one can make an impact. That may be Denmark, Britain and/​or Bahrain –​but the ambition to do good for one’s community, whatever that is, remains important to most of the people I talked to for this project, in London as well as Denmark. A second line of analysis, in relation to the overall theme of this book, is the role of media within this (non)-​activism. The comparative analysis of the two communities shows that media plays a very important role in both settings, but in rather different ways. The chapter therefore seeks to contribute a critical and nuanced discussion of the concept ‘mediatized diaspora’. The term mediatized diaspora, the title of the research project behind this book and the subject of this chapter, refers to how media is used by the Arab diaspora in Europe, in particular in relation to the political situation in the Arab countries since the 2011 uprisings. But there are significant differences in the role media plays and how media is used. In London, a core group of activists are very active on media, following the situation in Bahrain closely but also contributing to the flow of information by disseminating and writing news themselves through WhatsApp, Twitter, YouTube channels and (to a lesser extent) public Arab or European media. Many of these stories arise out of on-​the-​ground, offline street activities in London and Europe. Many of the Bahrainis in Denmark I talked to, on the other hand, may actually go so far as to try not to follow the situation in Bahrain, because they feel they can do little change to the situation there and because it only makes them feel awful to keep reading about it. That may well be the case for a large part of the London community as well, but there I was mostly in touch with a core group of activists, and when I asked people to talk about these issues, it was often these people I was referred to. The point of my comparison of London and Denmark is not, therefore, that London-​based Bahrainis are activists, while Bahrainis in Denmark are not; there are activists and non-​activists in both London and Denmark. My point is rather that the particular interviewees I was introduced to in the two field sites led me to focus more on the differentiation between activism and non-​activism, whereby a core group in London is constituted by an activist approach to the situation in Bahrain, whereas most interviewees I met in Denmark were reluctant to take such an approach.

146  Thomas Brandt Fibiger The chapter therefore proceeds as follows. I first discuss my approach in relation to the current literature on the nexus of diaspora, media and activism, suggesting the importance of two additions to further study of this subject: first, that the definition of activism needs to be expanded to take fuller account of the multimodality of being diasporic and what that may mean, and second, that the understanding of the role of media in diasporic communities and activism requires nuancing. This latter point is inspired by notions of ‘transnational repression’ (Schenkkan, Linzer, Furstenberg, & Heathershaw, 2020) and demobilization (Davenport, 2015; Rennick, 2018). I then demonstrate my analysis by way of empirical case studies, focusing on four particular individuals, two in London and two in Denmark. While my fieldwork draws on many more examples from a total of 31 interviews (24 in London, seven in Denmark), all of which substantiate my analysis, I base my chapter on these individual examples in order to highlight the personal stories and the individual human beings that we as scholars are dealing with. Transnational repression, media and diasporic activism The rapid and ongoing growth in media technologies has provided people in the diaspora with new means for transnational communication. This has allowed them not only to stay much more closely in touch with their relatives across countries, but also to follow and interact with the political situation in their country of origin (Baser & Halperin, 2019; Miller & Madianou, 2011; Retis & Tsagarousianou, 2019). ‘Mobilising for the transformation of home’, as Fiona Adamson (2002) put it, is a key aspiration of many diasporic communities and activities, one that may even be said to define the concept of diaspora, as suggested by Martin Sökefeld (2006).1 This raises the question of what ‘home’ and ‘activism’ are, a question to which I return at the end of this section. In the case of Bahrain, the perspective taken by Adamson, Sökefeld and others is indeed supported by the way the community of Bahrainis in London has worked for political reforms in Bahrain since the early 1980s through the political society the Bahrain Freedom Movement, and its bilingual newsletter, Voice of Bahrain /​Sawt al-​Bahrain (see more below). This outlet, predigital but still being published, has since been supplemented by a wide range of social media groups, home pages and other means of communication. In their introduction to a special issue of the British Journal of Middle Eastern Studies, Bahar Baser and Amira Halperin frame this form of activism in current diasporas: Middle Eastern diasporas form advocacy networks, lobby home and host country governments and other institutions at the local, national and international level, affect political processes in their homelands by expatriate voting mechanisms or become critical agents of development in their home countries. Their repertoires of action vary: they organize demonstrations, petitions and sit-​ins. Diasporic communities use online platforms to make their voice heard, for political mobilization and empowerment. They use

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  147 websites, blogs, social media and smart phone applications to disseminate their personal stories to global audiences. It can be said that, whatever happens in their homeland affect their identity formation and mobilization patterns, while at the same time they become involved in political mechanisms in their homelands one way or another. (Baser & Halperin, 2019, p. 217) This is all true for the Bahraini diaspora as well, in particular for the London community. Mediatized and online activism plays a key role both within Bahrain and beyond (Moore-​Gilbert, 2018). At the same time, however, the same technological development noted in the passage above has increasingly allowed regimes to surveil the communication of transnational groups (Moss, 2018; Schenkkan et al., 2020; and in the case of Bahrain see Jones, 2013, 2019). As Marcus Michaelson points out in a recent report on ‘transnational repression’ by Freedom House: As much as social media help diaspora activists to circulate alternative information and opinion, these platforms can also turn into a toxic environment for abuse and threats. (Michaelson, 2020, p. 6) This ‘toxic environment’ also includes surveillance that may not be detectable by those surveilled. This situation has prompted many Bahrainis –​within Bahrain as well as abroad, in both London and Denmark –​to self-​censor (2020, p. 7) their communication with other Bahrainis in and outside Bahrain, and to keep their communication and their activities from being directly political and addressed at the situation in Bahrain. As Dana Moss has noted, in an article otherwise focused on digital authoritarianism and the fear of communication in the Syrian diaspora in Europe: Bahraini authorities, for example, have used FinFisher interception software –​developed by UK-​based Gamma International –​to track and monitor the ‘every move’ of political refugees in Britain through their computers and mobile phones. (Moss, 2018, p. 268)2 This situation, as described in the current literature on diaspora, activism and media, raises two analytical points in this chapter. First, on the question of the relationship between diaspora and activism, it is certainly true of important parts of the diaspora, notably the London-​based activists, that they continue their activism in exile and that they continue to do what they can to put pressure on the regime in Bahrain, also through putting pressure on regimes in Europe. They use a wide range of media for this activism: social media (e.g. WhatsApp), NGO-​based web pages, newsletters such as Voice of Bahrain, and more traditional press such as newspaper articles in UK dailies and television

148  Thomas Brandt Fibiger appearances. However, it is important to note, as do Baser and Halperin above, that online and offline activism go together, and that much media news arises out of street activism, demonstrations and public events, as I will show in more detail below. This suggests that a study of the role of media in diasporic activism should not be solely media-​centred (Candidatu, Leurs, & Pontanezi 2019, p. 38; Leurs & Smets, 2018), but should take the relation of media and non-​media activities into account. Second, because of the transnational repression described above, many Bahrainis both in Bahrain and in the diaspora prefer not to engage with political activism, in particular with forms that are traceable through media, social or traditional. This apparent demobilization ten years after the 2011 uprising (Rennick, 2018; Yonus, 2020) owing to digital surveillance and a general sense that activism does not help, requires further study in discussions of diaspora, activism and media. As I argue in this chapter, however, it does not mean that people are not active. What it does mean is that the scholarly field needs to expand what is defined as activism and see it in a broader perspective, including forms of activism that are not directly political. This would also involve a refocusing on where these different forms of activism are directed, and therefore on what is defined as ‘home’ for people living in the diaspora (Bullock, 2017; Tsagarousianou, 2019). As one of my interviewees in Denmark, a mother in her thirties, explains about how she no longer follows the situation in Bahrain: I don’t want to listen [to news about Bahrain] because it will not mean that much to me since I live in Denmark, my life is in Denmark, and I have a good life in Denmark. I also have my kids to take care of, and I will make a good future for them. Moreover, if I listen to this news, then I would feel a sort of obligation to do something. And as passive as I am now, I cannot do anything. In this case it would only be bad for me to listen to this and think, OK I am listening, but I don’t do anything. Then I would rather take part in a fundraising or do something else, give clothes or toys for children, wherever this may be around the world. For this woman, as for most of my interlocutors, it is still important to do good and to make an impact, but there are several ways of doing that, and these activities may be directed not only at Bahrain as country of origin but towards other countries in need, such as Syria, Sudan or Yemen, and towards communities in Denmark as well as abroad. Denmark, in this case, is as much home as Bahrain is. I therefore follow Roza Tsagarousianou’s (2019) call for ‘a theoretical shift from the centrality of an originary home and a static and rigid ethnocentrism to more multicentric, network-​like conceptualizations of diasporas’ (p. 86). This would also entail a non-​media-​centric approach which would include offline, street and non-​mediatized forms of activism in the analysis, in addition to non-​political activism as in the interview quote above. Media is of crucial importance to diasporas –​but sometimes people may restrict their own media use, and certainly there are other ways of being a diasporic activist. This,

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  149 I suggest, nuances the theoretical trope of ‘mediatization’ (Hepp, Hjarvard, & Lundby, 2015; Hjarvard, 2008) as taken to suggest that media increasingly frames reality. I argue that it should also nuance the concept of mediatized diaspora on which this book is based. My fieldwork for this project has moved between very high-​profile members of Bahrain’s opposition and political activists on the one hand (who therefore have agreed to appear by name), and people who prefer to keep a low profile and not to be associated with such activism on the other hand. They do not necessarily share the same views on Bahrain’s political situation, and they should not be represented as such. But while one group, in particular in Denmark, hopes to maintain a peaceful relationship with Bahrain whereby they can travel back and forth outside the spotlight of ‘transnational repression’, others, in particular in London, have given up on this and have invested their full life and identity in this political struggle. In the following I hope to represent, and balance, both views. ‘We make the news’ The first Bahraini political dissident to settle in London within the community as it is now was Said al-​Shihabi. He first came to London as a student of mechanical engineering in 1971. Already at that time he had been part of an emerging Shia Islamist opposition group in Bahrain, the first of its kind and inspired by the Dawa movement in Iraq, which used to meet in his father’s house in the village of Duraz.3 His studies in London were sponsored by Cable & Wireless, the British company that ran Bahrain’s telecommunication in the colonial era, ending in 1971 with the declaration of Bahrain as an independent state. After travelling back and forth in the 1970s and working for the campaign of Shia Islamists in the first parliamentary elections in 1973, Said al-​ Shihabi was in London at the time of the Shia revolution in Iran in 1979. In the previous year, with some other Bahrainis, he had actually visited the exiled Ayatollah Khomeini, head of the revolution and supreme leader of the new Islamic republic, in Paris. Given the circumstances in the Gulf region, al-​Shihabi decided to stay in London. In the following years, a number of Bahrainis were exiled from their home country, not least after a failed (possibly merely alleged) coup attempt in 1981. In 1983, this group, headed by al-​Shihabi, founded the Bahrain Freedom Movement (BFM), or al-​Harakat Ahrar al-​Bahrain al-​Islamiyya. The Arabic name for the organization stresses the Islamist base of this political organization, while the English translation omits it, arguably in order to address distinct secular and religious audiences. Since then, the BFM has published the bilingual newsletter Voice of Bahrain/​ Sawt al-​Bahrain as a platform for criticism of the Bahraini regime to both an Arab and a European public. Particularly in the 1980s and 1990s, the BFM was an important part of Bahrain’s opposition. After the political reforms and the granting of amnesty of 2001, some key members left London and the BFM. Among these were Mansoor al-​Jamri, who became editor of the new critical

150  Thomas Brandt Fibiger newspaper based in Bahrain, al-​Wasat (2002–​2017); Majid al-​Allawi, who became minister of labour in the new government; and Shaykh Ali Salman, who continued as opposition leader but now within Bahrain as head of the new political society al-​Wifaq (and member of parliament 2006–​2011).4 During my fieldwork in London in 2018 and 2019, Said al-​Shihabi was still a key figure in the Bahraini community. He hosted meetings in Dar al-​Hikma (which he founded in the same year as the BFM), and he contributed to the press from his office in al-​Abrar, a charity centre near Edgware Road. In my interview with him, in October 2018, he elaborated on how he had always been able to receive stories from his compatriots in Bahrain, but that even if technology had made the transfer of news much easier (from hidden letters, to email, to social media), the same technology had made it much easier to surveil. In his experience, therefore, less news had come from Bahrain in the past few years, and he himself could not be personally in touch with anyone, since he was considered, in his own words, an ‘enemy of the state’ and might therefore endanger potential contacts in Bahrain. Since the closure of the only critical (if not overtly oppositional) newspaper, al-​Wasat, in Bahrain in 2017 after pressure in the wake of the 2011 uprising and with the general repression of voices of dissent, little news has made its way out of Bahrain. This has only increased the role of the opposition abroad, al-​Shihabi argues. ‘We make the news’, he remarks when I ask him where he sources news from Bahrain. This news is produced by the London opposition and by dissident groups elsewhere, notably Lebanon, which is now home to the YouTube TV channel and website Lulu TV (lualuatv.com). This channel, originally established in London shortly after the 2011 uprising, is named after the Pearl (Lulu) Monument, which, inspired by Cairo’s Tahrir Square, was the centre of the uprising camp (Khalaf, 2015; Matthiesen, 2013). However, at the same time, al-​Shihabi notes an increasing passivity and sense of demobilization among Bahrainis as well as other groups and communities. People are not as active as they used to be, either religiously or politically: as he sees it, many young people come to Dar al-​Hikma just to socialize rather than contribute to religious or political activities or development. Dar al-​Hikma, they come because they consider it a social place, rather than an activist […] It is a religious charity, so we have a speech, about any of our religious matters. But many of them they don’t want to listen, they just want to stand outside and talk and chat and so on. So not many people are real givers. Not only Bahrainis, every community is the same. Al-​Shihabi may well be right that this is a general development over the past few years, or even before that. As I have already noted, there is an increasing sense of demobilization among Bahrainis in exile (and within Bahrain; Fibiger, 2018), not least owing to increased repression and transnational digital surveillance. However, a young generation of new activists, using new forms of activism, has emerged in the years since 2011, and this group is continuing the

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  151 struggle as well as maintaining activities intended to put pressure on regimes in both Europe and Arabia for changes in Bahrain. One of the most prominent members of this younger generation is Sayyid Ahmed al-​Wadai. A regular visitor to Dar al-​Hikma, al-​Wadai is a young religious and political activist who has lived in London since 2012. He emerged as a political activist during the 2011 uprising, when, like many others in his generation, he began to take part in politics for the first time. He was imprisoned and tortured, and upon his release managed to escape the country and ended up in London, joining the community of exiles. Here he founded the NGO Bahrain Institute for Rights and Democracy (BIRD), which is today one of the most widely recognized, best supported and most influential NGOs working for reform in Bahrain from abroad. While Sayyid Ahmed himself certainly has a religious perspective, BIRD, unlike the BFM, is free from religious rhetoric and agendas. Its aims are expressed in the ‘universal’ secular terms of rights and democracy, not only making a nice acronym but also showing a new framing of politics among Bahrainis in exile. Following Asif Bayat (2013) and Peter Mandaville (2014), this may be termed a post-​Islamist framing. As both these authors argue, this does not necessarily mean that this NGO is non-​religious, but that its discourse, framework and political ideology have developed from a clear Islamist base to a new, more liberal, universal and secular understanding of politics. BIRD is far from alone in this. Other new organizations include the NGO Salam, working in particular on issues of citizenship, and yet others work for the political society al-​Wifaq, now formally dissolved in Bahrain but still recognized as not only the most influential political society among the Shia in Bahrain but also the largest opposition bloc.5 Some Bahraini activists, rather than organizing on this ‘modern’ model of NGOs or political societies, operate their own street-​level activities, highly conscious of their dissemination online and in the conventional press. For example in 2018, activist Ali Mushaima held a hunger strike just outside Bahrain’s London embassy for 63 days to highlight the plight of his father, who is imprisoned in Bahrain. Hassan Mushaima, Ali’s father, is a well-​ known political Islamist who has for many years been an opposition leader in Bahrain within the movement al-​Haq, known as more ‘revolutionary’ (but also cross-​sectarian) than the ‘reformist’ al-​Wifaq. The story was told by the British newspaper The Guardian, among others, and it did have some effect. Mushaima’s conditions in prison were actually improved following British diplomatic intervention, but in the long run the initiative did not change much. Even more spectacular, and drawing attention to the extraterritorial status of the Bahraini embassy outside the jurisdiction of the British state, was an event in July 2019 on the eve of the scheduled execution of two prisoners in Bahrain. Activist Musa Abdul Ali jumped onto the embassy roof from some scaffolding next door and unfurled a banner calling for the executions to be halted. Police and media were called to the scene, and media documented Mr Musa being threatened and beaten by embassy guards on the roof, then dragged down into the embassy. At this point the British police forcefully (and actually

152  Thomas Brandt Fibiger illegally) entered the embassy to get him out, urged on by Musa’s Bahraini co-​ activists outside, who feared for his life and argued that this could be ‘a second Khashoggi’, referring to the Saudi journalist killed at the Saudi embassy in Istanbul in 2018.6 These examples drawn from the community of diasporic activists in London show how dissidents have continued their political activism outside Bahrain from the early 1980s to the present day, but now informed by a new generation of exiles who left Bahrain after the 2011 uprising. Their activities take multiple forms, from engaging in street activism in front of Bahrain’s London embassy, to holding community meetings in Dar al-​Hikma, to producing news content for a variety of media outlets, such as WhatsApp, Voice of Bahrain and The Guardian. Media is therefore crucially important to the communication of diaspora activism in this case. But at the same time, media does not stand alone: it must be accompanied by offline activities, such as those mentioned at the embassy, and young people’s personal communication outside Dar al-​ Hikma. The latter may also, however, be seen as a way of socializing rather than politicizing, as suggested above by the founder of Dar al-​Hikma. Recent years have undoubtedly seen a mood of demobilization spread in the Arab diaspora beyond that of Bahrain. Not all members of the diaspora, therefore, are activists in the political sense of the word. But they may still feel deeply connected to Bahrain. This was the case with the following interviewee. ‘I’m crying because I’m not an activist’ Many Bahrainis in London are not part of the religious community of Dar al-​ Hikma, nor are they political activists like those described above. But this does not mean that they do not care about the situation in Bahrain; and they may be active in other ways. Because my point of departure was Dar al-​Hikma, where I was introduced to many interlocutors within the community, mostly those who were already outspoken political activists, I met few of the non-​activists during my fieldwork in London. (I return to the opposite situation in Denmark below.) But after a long conversation on WhatsApp, I managed to meet one such non-​religious, non-​activist young woman in London one evening for an interview. I knew of her beforehand from her previous activities, and she can be seen in this sense as an activist, though not a political activist. She is also a somewhat public figure both in Bahrain and in the Arab diaspora community in London. Because this interview is so relevant to the question of what counts as activism, I include her story here without her name. After completing a university education in visual culture at a British university, she had participated in and curated a number of collaborative art projects, both in Bahrain and in London involving the Bahraini community there. In Bahrain, she had been part of a group preparing the country’s contribution to an international art expo, before she herself pulled out of the project, which in her view had been good and progressive from the outset, without being too politically biased, but which was increasingly co-​opted by regime politics in the

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  153 attempt to shape a good image for Bahrain. In London, she had mounted a collaborative exhibition project on and with Arab communities in the UK; today, she works at a rather key art gallery in central London. ‘She is our dissident’, the gallery director once said, referring to her exile from Bahrain –​which, however, is voluntary. She prefers working in London to Bahrain because she has more options and can act more freely in this European capital, but she does not see herself as a dissident, just as she does not see herself as an activist, although she recognizes that she may be seen as such, for better (by her boss as the token dissident) or for worse (by the cultural authorities in Bahrain). The interview was one of the most emotional I conducted during my fieldwork for this project. ‘I don’t know why I am crying’, she said as she paused to get back on track. ‘I think I am crying because I am not an activist’. She would not describe herself as an activist like the figures I have described above, who are well known among Bahrainis in London. The most direct cause of her crying was that her grandmother had died very recently. With her, in the mind of this young woman, had died ‘the real Bahrain’, the Bahrain she had known from her childhood, a Bahrain where people cared for each other across sects, ethnicities and political orientations. This woman’s family hails from central Manama, a multireligious, multi-​ethnic and cosmopolitan area of Bahrain, and this was the climate in which she grew up. The loss of her grandmother was not simply the loss of a personal relationship, but also of a more abstract relationship to her country of origin. This made her think about what Bahrain had been through over the past years, and how she personally had experienced it –​which only made her sadder and cry again. Her father had been arrested (although not imprisoned) in the wake of the ill-​fated uprising in 2011; a friend of hers had nearly been killed; and in Cairo, where she was living in 2011 and where she experienced the Egyptian uprising first-​hand, she had lost a friend who was killed in the street protests. But one of her worst memories was from Bahrain. She was sitting on a rooftop one night in 2011 with some friends, and they heard protesters demonstrating in the streets below. One of her friends got up and mimed shooting at the protesters. This episode was key: it showed her just how far people had become divided within Bahrain, and how far friends had parted ways. As a Shia girl in a well-​off family growing up in the city, she had gone to a private school with many Sunni children as well, and they had become close friends. On that rooftop, and in the course of 2011, she realized that many of those friendships were over. The intervention of my interview was an emotional reminder of this once more. ‘I’m crying because I’m not an activist’, she said, –​but rather because her personal experiences of losing the Bahrain she once knew were painful. Many of the activists I talked to, including those mentioned above, experienced the same, and much worse, incidents of losing Bahrain, but they did not cry when I talked to them, possibly because they have talked about it many, many times, and because they use this narrative to bolster their own current activism. I include this story here to show how some interviewees, including in London, defined themselves as ‘non-​activists’, and at the same time, to show

154  Thomas Brandt Fibiger how activism may be a broad concept, one that also includes art as a form of activism that seeks to contribute to an agenda and a change of perspectives, functioning in this sense as an alternative form of media. The example also shows how some of my interlocutors have moved away from direct political engagement taking the form of activism or media use. Indeed, the reason this interviewee was in Egypt in 2011 was that she was working for a new Arab satellite channel. She had started this work in Europe, where she got involved because the channel contemplated moving to the Gulf, but then ended up in Cairo. She had therefore also been contributing to the news scene as a professional, rather than politically like the Bahraini activists mentioned above, although she was still working to create new images of Bahrain and (perhaps more so) the wider Middle East. She therefore also followed media closely. In the wake of the 2011 uprising, she followed events in Bahrain via Facebook, Twitter and similar outlets, but since around 2013 she had stopped doing this. She had had enough of the whole thing: events not only in Bahrain but especially in Syria made her sick and tired of following the news. I encountered this demobilization among some Bahrainis in London, but it was made even clearer to me in my conversations with Bahrainis in Denmark. For the sake of comparison, I now turn the focus to my material from Denmark. ‘Where can I make an impact?’ As noted above, it was difficult for me even to meet Bahrainis in Denmark. First, at only 50 to 60 people, this is not a large group, and they are not organized the same way as the London community. They may not even accurately be termed ‘a group’ or ‘a community’. Second, many of those with whom I got in touch, or tried to get in touch, did not want to contribute to this project. Obviously (if implicitly), they were trying to put their troubled relationship to Bahrain behind them and were anxious about the consequences of participating in a research project on political issues in Bahrain, even in a volume like this one, that would make it easy for everyone, including the regime in Bahrain, to see what they thought about things. They did not believe in the anonymity I said I would provide (and am still trying to protect), because the group of Bahrainis in Denmark is so small that this is almost impossible to maintain. I started out my fieldwork the same way as in London, at a religious gathering place where I had previously known a few people. In 2009, I participated in the Ashura rituals in Copenhagen, commemorating the martyred Imam Husayn, a grandson of the Prophet Muhammad and early leader of the Shia sect. I was led to these rituals through meetings with people in Bahrain who had previously lived in Denmark. In 2018, I once again went to Copenhagen for Ashura, hoping to meet Bahrainis who could participate in the project. I did, but I also learned that not all Danish Bahrainis come to these events, and if they do, they do not necessarily meet at the main Shia mosque and community centre in Copenhagen. This is the Imam Ali mosque, a grand Iranian-​ style mosque in an old industrial area just off central Nørrebro, the migrant

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  155 centre in Copenhagen. This mosque, one of the few purpose-​built mosques in Denmark, opened in 2014 and has significantly enhanced the visibility of Shia Muslims. For Ashura, the streets are packed with people, and the procession (a small-​scale replica of processions in places such as Iran, Iraq, Lebanon or Bahrain) ends here after a three-​kilometre-​long walk from central Copenhagen (Nørreport) in a very visible parade of banners and chanting that highlights Imam Husayn’s sacrifice for humankind (an occasion completely unknown to most non-​Muslim spectators). Through my initial Bahraini contacts here, I quickly established a list of some 20 names I might be able to interview, but I ended up with only seven interviewees. Two were directly from the mosque community (people I knew previously, partly from Bahrain), two were their friends (but not from inside this community), two were people outside Copenhagen (whom I had also known previously in a personal capacity), and one was a well-​known political activist. The variety of my interlocutors was therefore greater in Copenhagen than in London, where I primarily met people through Dar al-​Hikma (where there were many people to meet). As I have noted, I was often directed to the same type or group of people, namely outspoken political activists. This difference makes my material from Copenhagen a good comparison with the impressions from London I have shared above. But before I present one particular interviewee as a case study, I will first introduce the Bahraini community in Denmark through a former and very famous member, known mostly in Bahrain but also to an extent internationally and in Denmark. This is the human rights activist Abdelhadi al-​Khawaja, who since March 2011 has been imprisoned in Bahrain. Al-​Khawaja’s long-​ standing hunger strike, which almost claimed his life, in protest against his and others’ conditions in prison and those in Bahrain more generally created media headlines in the international press and in Denmark. As a dual national, al-​Khawaja could be imprisoned in Bahrain, but the Danish authorities also have some responsibility for his safety. Therefore, the Danish ambassador in Saudi Arabia and the ministry of foreign affairs tried –​mostly in vain, and in the minds of many Bahrainis not hard enough –​to put pressure on Bahrain to improve his conditions. His story was one of the few that brought Bahrain’s protests into the Danish media after the crackdown of March 2011 against the initial uprising. Abdelhadi al-​Khawaja had come to Denmark with his family, along with several other families, in the late 1980s. They had been exiled from Bahrain because of accusations about their role in the alleged attempted coup d’état in 1981, shortly after the revolution in Bahrain. In Denmark, al-​Khawaja became involved in human rights work. With the reforms in Bahrain of 2001 and the political amnesty for exiles, he and most other Bahrainis in Denmark returned to Bahrain. Al-​Khawaja was to head the new Bahrain Centre for Human Rights and continue his struggle for rights and for change within Bahrain –​ which landed him in prison several more times, including in the ‘decade of

156  Thomas Brandt Fibiger reform’ before 2011, then permanently from then on. Many of the younger generation stayed in Denmark to finish their education, and of these, many now live and work in Denmark; others returned after 2011. Those who stayed include members of the first generation who were no longer politically engaged but felt insecure in Bahrain; but younger people, including two of Abdelhadi al-​Khawaja’s daughters, were also unable to remain in Bahrain because of their activism. Zaynab al-​Khawaja tried to stay in Bahrain after 2011 to continue her father’s fight while he was in prison, and returned to Denmark in 2016 only after she herself was released from prison in Bahrain but threatened with a new arrest. Maryam al-​Khawaja has been an international figurehead of Bahrain’s human rights activism and opposition (without being directly linked to a party or political movement); since 2011 she has travelled the world, and today she divides her time between Copenhagen and New York. So while some of the younger Bahrainis in Denmark are continuing the struggle of their parents’ generation, others are not so sure. As the last case of this chapter, I now delve into one of these. ‘I believe in the cause of Bahrain’, this man in his thirties affirms, and when I ask him what that cause is, he explains about human rights, the struggle of humankind as a general tenet of Islam, and the rights of prisoners to a fair trial and more generally for more freedom in Bahrain. But he is not convinced that there is any viable political alternative to the current regime, and he believes that the narrative of the political opposition is as flawed as that of the regime. This also affects his view on media and how he follows media from and about Bahrain: When I read, I read the national newspaper al-​Watan. And I get messages by social media. In my opinion neither side gives a 100 per cent true account. One side represents society, or the opposition if you will, and the other side represents the government. I would rather base my assessment on my own experiences. That is, I would rather ask a friend in Bahrain, rather than read someone on WhatsApp I don’t know who is. Al-​Watan, like all newspapers in Bahrain since the closure of al-​Wasat, is a regime-​based paper. Still, it is the one my interlocutor prefers to balance with the opposition news he receives by social media –​and both accounts need to be balanced by checking them against personal information. While this may be a case of mediatized diaspora in the sense that media such as al-​Watan and WhatsApp are points of departure for my interlocutor’s thoughts about Bahrain, he assesses these media stories critically by way of personal communication. This, I acknowledge, is mediated through personal media contact in the form of phone calls and messages, but the example shows how a mediatized diaspora is not uncritical of the role of media. Moreover, as his remarks show, this interviewee, like most others I have talked to in Denmark (more so than in London), is not uncritical of the political opposition. Even if he would like to see changes in Bahrain and believes

Role of media activism among Bahrainis in London and Denmark  157 ‘in the cause of Bahrain’, as he puts it, he does not see street or media-​based activism as the right way for him, living as he does in Denmark. Because he lives in Denmark, that is where he can make an impact; and he does this by being active in the local mosque community and study circles of Islam among Shia Muslims in Denmark, and focusing on how to lead a good Muslim life in this country. If I can make an impact for Bahrain, then I would, but if I cannot, then I must do something else. I live in Denmark. This is where I can make an impact […] So yes, I believe in the cause of Bahrain, but the point of departure for my activities is that I live in Denmark. And when I die I will be held accountable. The last sentence here shows his Islamic motivation for these activities, pointing to the yom al-​din, the day of judgement, when all of mankind will stand before God. This cosmological orientation informs his activities and his aim to do good for the society in which he lives (amr bil-​maruf, as he confirms when I ask).7 While he follows what is going on in Bahrain and is also oriented towards Bahrain, also because ‘my parents sacrificed a whole lot for Bahrain, and that will always remain important to me’, his life and home are here, in Denmark. Home is where he can make an impact –​and that, for now, is Denmark and only potentially Bahrain. Conclusion This chapter has sought to expand notions of activism in relation to the concept of mediatized diaspora. While all the interviewees included in this chapter emphasized their hope to do good and thus to make an impact on their society –​be that Bahrain, London, Denmark or somewhere else –​their activism is not only political but may also be religious, focused on art and culture, or simply interpersonal. While activism is thus more than political, it is not solely framed by media use. As we have seen, activism may be offline and online, and may involve media or may not. All my interlocutors follow the news from Bahrain –​or they used to follow it, but then stopped, because they no longer see how that is helpful either to their own or to Bahrain’s well-​being, or how this enables them to do good. This demobilization is in part a consequence of transnational repression, not least through social media, and this is a subject that calls for attention in further studies on the nexus of media, diaspora and activism. Following other studies in this field, I have highlighted here how some, in particular Bahrainis in London, use news about Bahrain to form political action in the diaspora, while others –​in particular, among those I talked to, in Denmark –​are critical about the news they receive and want to confirm stories through personal contacts rather than relying solely on media. This finding nuances both the concept of mediatization and that of diaspora: being diasporic does not only mean orienting oneself towards a lost

158  Thomas Brandt Fibiger home in the country of origin. For my Bahraini interlocutors, home is both in Bahrain and in the country where they live now. Home is, in the words of the last interviewee mentioned above, where one can make an impact. Notes 1 Sökefeld builds on the characteristics of diaspora laid out by Robin Cohen (1996), who, in his updating of his ground-​breaking work in diaspora studies, incorporated this perspective by Sökefeld (Cohen, 2008, p. 13). 2 Moss refers this information to the NGO Bahrain Watch (bahrainwatch.org), run by London-​based Bahrainis in exile in collaboration with researchers and other activists. 3 Duraz is still a stronghold of the Shia Islamist opposition today, as well as home to the religious cleric and political figurehead Shaykh Isa Qasem. For more on the history of Shia Islamism in Bahrain, and its relation to the Dawa movement, see Louër (2008). 4 For more on the role of BFM, and subsequently al-​Wasat, see Fibiger (2020), and for a more historical and contextual analysis of Bahrain’s exiled opposition, see Beaugrand (2015). 5 There are also non-​religious Bahraini activist groups based in London, e.g., the Bahrain Press Association (bahrainpa.org), which according to one interviewee affiliated to this group has a few active members in London and others particularly in Lebanon and Canada. There are also other ‘website activists’, some of whom did not want to participate in this study. Although they clearly see themselves as non-​ religious, I met a few of these people at Dar al-​Hikma, where, as they explained to me, they come for cultural reasons, e.g., during Ramadan. 6 Channel 4 News, London, August 7, 2018, last visited at www.yout​ube.com/​watch?v=​ PcRh​AHVC​HOU, December 17, 2020. 7 For an account of the importance of this notion in contemporary Muslim awareness, see Mahmood (2005, p. 58).

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10 Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile Examining advocacy strategies in diaspora journalists’ online news Rana Arafat Introduction Living in exile from conflict-torn homelands, diaspora media plays crucial roles in mobilizing change in undemocratic societies and creating new platforms for scrutinizing and lobbying home governments (Ekwo, 2011). Diaspora media, created by and for diasporic groups (Bozdag et al., 2012), provides platforms for “self-​expression, the representation of cultural artefacts and the contestation of negative stereotypes by migrant people in the public sphere” (Ogunyemi, 2015, p.1). Diaspora journalists serve as “stakeholders” in the transnational media landscapes demonstrating higher journalistic quality compared to local media by offering a diversity of sources, opinions, and criticism regarding governmental decisions (Ahmed, 2019; Nordahl, 2009; Skjerdal, 2011). They might also act like activists by politicizing issues, building a consensus to advocate for public policies, and influencing audiences and leadership by reinforcing democratic dialogues (Kamboh & Yousaf, 2019; Wade, 2011). Since the Syrian uprisings turned into an armed struggle owing to airstrikes and jihadist group activists (Johnston, 2017; Omari, 2016), Syria has become one of the most dangerous places for reporters, with almost 134 killed and 75 imprisoned journalists (Committee to Protect Journalists, 2020; Doyle, 2014). As Chawaf (2019) describes the complex situation: “the unprecedented violence meted out by the Syrian regime, the support and direct intervention of Russia, and the inaction of the international community have made Syria the most dangerous country in the world for any human to live in” (p. 51). The situation was not better in the opposition-​controlled areas because Islamic State in Iraq and Syria (ISIS) troops and other military groups posed restrictions on media freedom, leading many media workers to flee to other countries, “mainly to neighboring Turkey, Jordan and Lebanon” (Omari, 2016, p. 3). This raises questions about the potential role of the professional journalists and amateur writers who fled Syria and continued reporting from the diaspora, in challenging the restrictions on the flow of information inside the country, to provide an accurate picture of what’s going on to both Syrian and international audiences, and advocate for human rights and political reforms. While conflicts pose various challenges to these journalists’ professional values, news agendas, and news-​gathering tools DOI: 10.4324/9781003365419-10

162  Rana Arafat (Ogunyemi, 2017), investigating diaspora journalism advocacy as a concept, and identifying the changing nature of transnational news reporting in the context of civil war has only received scant scholarly attention. Using qualitative content analysis, this chapter aims to investigate the various advocacy strategies channeled through the political content of two Syrian anti-​regime diasporic news websites, Enab Baladi and Rozana, in their coverage of the Syrian conflict. To this end, an advocacy strategy refers to the way diaspora journalists operationalize their advocacy goals (e.g., promoting underrepresented voices or posing accusations against the ruling regime) into a content-​related practice or a selective editorial decision that shapes the choice of information sources, adjectives, and storytelling angles, as well as the use of advocate frames and persuasive arguments in news production. Based on these analyses, the understanding of diasporic journalists as active players in the ongoing conflicts of their homeland is further discussed. The chapter aims to answer one main research question: RQ: What advocacy strategies do the Syrian diasporic websites Enab Baladi and Rozana employ in their political news coverage of the homeland conflict? And how? Diaspora journalism, conflict, and political change The literature has elucidated the engagement of diasporic populations in the politics and conflicts of their origin countries surpassing the territorial and political boundaries of states (e.g., Hanlin, 2010; Itzigsohn, 2000; Koinova, 2013). The diaspora concept connotes “a very strong orientation vis-​à-​vis the homeland, often based on an experience or shared memory of displacement, subsequent settlement in two or more locations outside the country of origin, and the collective idea or myth of the homeland” (Bostrom et al., 2016, p. 2). By offering new political opportunities, smartphones and digital media have transformed diasporic populations from “passive victims” to “active agents,” facilitating their engagement in everyday transnational political experiences (Borkert et al., 2018). Such a networked communication environment has facilitated the diaspora journalists’ adoption of activism by providing opportunities for transnational engagement in conflict mediation and resolution, and advocacy for social movements and political causes in the war-​torn homelands (Sözeri, 2016). As Arafat (2021) argues, diaspora advocacy journalism refers specifically to the purposive involvement of exiled subjects in transnational news gathering and production where new forms of collaboration/​networking with people, civil society actors, and human rights defenders from the homeland and host country are introduced to promote underrepresented voices and mobilize a democratic political reformation and/​ or social change. (p. 2191)

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  163 Diaspora journalists use their new locations to promote counter-​narratives to challenge the domestic mainstream media dominated by repressive regimes and inform the outside world about the regime’s violations and misdeeds (Cook, 2016; Ristow, 2011; Wojcieszak et al., 2013). This places diaspora media in “a unique position which enables them to circumvent regime censorship and spread their content through cross-​ border networks and collaborations with citizen journalists on-​the-​ground correspondents, and media platforms” (Kämpe, 2017, p. 49). It also empowers them to serve a dual role as a “window on the world” that channels updated information, and a “mirror” that reflects back the conflict details and its consequences to their audiences (Ogunyemi, 2017, p. 1). For example, Journalists for Democracy in Sri Lanka (JDS) used their exile to access the political spaces they were previously denied and document violations and mass atrocities during the war (Balasundaram, 2019). However, scholars warned of completely abandoning traditional journalistic standards while covering transnational conflicts from the diaspora (Ncube, 2017; Nordahl, 2009). By proclaiming political bias, lacking a clear distinction between facts and opinion in organizing articles, and identifying itself with certain opposition groups, diasporic journalism might pose challenges to traditional journalistic paradigms by “bringing new actors into the journalistic arena negotiating the value of journalistic independence, traversing media cultures, and so forth” (Skjerdal, 2011, p. 740). Exile journalists might also contribute to inflaming the homeland conflicts and recreating them (Osman, 2017). Taking the Zimbabwean diasporic online community radio as an example, the blurred boundaries between constructive journalism and activism have led to the production of one-​sided dramatized news coverage that fueled the conflict and failed to provide solutions (Ncube, 2017). Advocacy journalism: a theoretical framework In contrast to so-​called “objective journalism,” Berney and Robie (2008) define advocacy journalism as “a genre of journalism that is fact-​based but supports a specific viewpoint on an issue” (p. 1). Tension has recently escalated between traditional and new-​ style activist/​ advocate journalists with more critics accusing the latter group of violating journalistic norms, especially objectivity (Russell, 2016). Some journalism scholars and practitioners argued that adopting advocacy journalism might damage the professionalism and credibility of journalistic practice when it involves ideological bias and activist intentions (Janowitz, 1975; Steele, 2010). Others argued that advocacy is not the opposite of objectivity as advocating a position is part of the job, explaining that the reporting work done by NGOs and advocacy groups, especially if they apply fact-​checking and transparency, can fill in gaps in the traditional media coverage when it is hard for media outlets to invest in on-​the-​ground reporting (Ingram, 2018; Niles, 2011).

164  Rana Arafat In diasporas, the combination of advocacy and journalism seems possible, and sometimes desirable, as some diaspora news websites adopt a journalistic practice characterized by activism and favoritism, posing a critical attitude toward the homeland government across borders (Skjerdal, 2011). Advocacy journalism serves various functions such as “raising awareness, generating public debate, influencing public opinion and key decision-​makers, and promoting policy and programmatic changes around specific issues” (Waisbord, 2009, p. 371). To this end, journalists might get personally involved and become active participants in the debate to advocate for certain causes in conflict situations (Mollerup, 2016). Although the literature has focused on the engagement of diaspora journalists in their homeland conflicts and their adoption of activist stances in news reporting, too little attention was paid to identifying what types of advocacy strategies their news content involves and how they shape the way news is produced and communicated. Accordingly, this chapter investigates how the Syrian diasporic journalism websites engage in the ongoing homeland conflicts by promoting advocacy stances toward the Syrian regime and opposition groups. It draws upon the sourcing and journalistic production determinants of advocacy in the journalistic work identified by Fisher’s framework (2016), including the selection of stories, adjectives, sources, advocate frames, story formats, and coverage angles. Fisher (2016) argues that “each work of journalism falls along a continuum of advocacy”; the degree of advocacy in the journalistic work is influenced by a range of macro, organizational, journalistic production, source, and personal factors (p. 711). Sources influence advocacy in journalistic content by setting the news agenda and shaping media coverage frames (Seo, 2020) because “who gets to speak in the news is a question of empowerment, as not only can actors with regular access to the news media shape the interpretation of events, but also ongoing meanings in a society” (Beckers & Van Aelst, 2018, p. 1). Similarly, advocate frames, including the comments, explanations, and arguments used by the reporter to persuade, can lead to one perspective or actor of the story being advocated more strongly than another (Fisher, 2016). By using certain verbs and adjectives to describe a person or an issue, the language of news stories can also “color” the way the topic is presented, impacting with whom the audience would sympathize (Boudana, 2016; Fisher, 2016). Story formats and angles also shape the advocacy in news content, reflecting a process of decision-​making by the journalist of what to focus on and how to package stories (Burns, 2013). Further information about how these advocacy determinants were used to build an initial coding sheet for examining news articles published by the diasporic websites regarding three timely political topics is discussed below in the methods section. Methods This study adopted a qualitative content analysis as a research method. Following the textual analysis guidelines provided by Altheide and Schneider

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  165 (2013) for examining news content produced by media outlets, I first familiarized myself with the context of the two diasporic websites under study by taking notes on the format, type, and the number of the news stories published about the ongoing conflict and foreign intervention in Syria, their political economy that shapes the way news is produced and communicated to the local audiences (Smith, 2017), and their collaborations and joint investigations with other Syrian diaspora outlets. Following the content and understanding the context allowed me to select the relevant topics and time period for analysis. Consequently, every news article and investigative report published by the Enab Baladi and Rozana Arabic websites between December 15, 2019, and February 17, 2020, on one of three conflict-​related topics were chosen for analysis: a) the large waves of Syrian civilians’ displacement in Idlib following the military campaigns launched by the Syrian regime forces and its Russian ally; b) the demonstrations against the difficult living conditions in the regime-​controlled Suwaida governorate; and c) the consequences of the Turkish-​Russian military intervention in Syria after the breaching of the Sochi agreement. This resulted in a total data set of 100 articles collected from the news outlets’ digital archives (46 Enab Baladi, 52 Rozana, and two written in collaboration between both). Various criteria were considered in the selection of these topics. First, the three political issues are timely and have news salience and a significant impact on the Syrian population. Second, the topics cover different key aspects of the ongoing Syrian civil war: the first topic focuses on the war crimes and humanitarian crises caused by the military attacks of the regime and its ally and their direct economic, educational, and psychological consequences on the civilians; the second tackles the anti-​regime protests caused by the deteriorating living conditions and high prices, especially in the regime-​controlled regions; and the third reflects the foreign intervention of Turkey and Russia as main players in the ongoing Syrian conflict. To this end, analyzing the news content of the two diasporic news websites on the three selected topics enables the examination of how diaspora journalism advocacy generates a parallel and alternative flow of information that challenges the vertical voice which circulates the regime’s propaganda. The topic selection further allows for investigating the advocacy strategies employed by the diaspora news websites to cover the various local and foreign actors in the Syrian conflict, serving the main goal of the study. In order to examine how Syrian diaspora journalists operationalize their advocacy goals into news production practices and editorial selections, ­ I developed an initial open-​ended coding sheet based on theory following Mayring’s (2000) inductive category development approach. In this early stage of analysis, “pre-​established codes, built from engagement with past literature, are guiding lights at earlier coding phases of a study and are adjusted as the researcher engages in with the texts being studied” (Smith, 2017, pp. 1859–​1860). Guided by Fisher’s framework (2016), six general advocacy determinants in news content, including adjectives, information sources, advocate frames, story selection, formats, and angles of coverage, were first selected

166  Rana Arafat as guiding coding criteria under which new categories and subcategories emerged in the analysis. Through a close reading of the text, new patterns were inductively identified and grouped into more abstract categories, resulting in nine content-​related strategies particularly used by Syrian diasporic journalists to channel advocacy in news reporting (e.g., promoting citizen sources, promoting voices of civil society actors, promoting adjectives siding with Syrian civilians, etc.). I clustered relevant strategies into groups that best describe their content. For example, the content analysis revealed how the victimization of civilians, the humanitarian focus of coverage, and conflict personalization are three connected strategies used by diasporic journalists in their news content to promote sympathy for war victims inside Syria. Thus, those practices were grouped together under a more abstract thematic category that I called “Promoting Sympathy and Humanitarian Aspects,” representing one of the advocacy strategies used in diasporic news reporting. To check intercoder reliability and point out any potential flaws existing in defining categories in the initial coding scheme, 10% of the selected news sample (10 articles) was coded by a second external coder who speaks Arabic. Some differences were detected in coding, especially about who should be categorized as “information sources” in the stories. Some modifications to the definition of actors and information sources were made accordingly. Selected media outlets The study examined two online diasporic opposition news websites that were selected based on four main criteria: a) foundation and objectives: both websites were founded following the outbreak of the Syrian crisis in 2011 and they moved later into diasporas to advocate for press freedom and human rights with around-​the-​clock news coverage that depends on local correspondents; b) popularity and wide reach: both websites have more than one million followers on their Facebook pages with Enab Baladi distributing thousands of copies of their weekly print issue in northern Syria and Turkish cities; c) relative funding autonomy: both websites claim political independence from any partisan or governmental funding or influence as they depend solely on the yearly grants offered by various European organizations that support independent media and democratic goals, including the International Media Support (IMS), Free Press Unlimited, and Global Fund for Women; and d) several editions and additional projects: both websites have Arabic and English versions targeting both Syrian and international audiences. Apart from news coverage, they are active in other media development projects including establishing ethical charters for Syrian media as well as organizing journalism training programs for students and citizen journalists. The two websites are: Enab Baladi news website1 (1.3 million Facebook followers)

The Turkey-​based Enab Baladi news association was originally founded in Daraya (Damascus suburbs) in 2011. It publishes a weekly print newspaper

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  167 and Arabic news website that cover Syrian news on the ground. Its English website, launched in 2016, publishes translated news articles targeting foreign audiences to challenge an almost complete absence of foreign media inside Syria. Enab Baladi’s family started as “a group of amateur writers with no prior experience in journalism, but who wanted to do their best to present another side of this multi-​sided and blessed revolution nonetheless” (Ayoub, 2019). Among the 58 staff members the website mentions, Enab Baladi has nine local correspondents covering news inside Syria. The news outlet states its mission clearly as follows: “Enab Baladi helps advance a democratic society in Syria by producing independent and credible journalism that informs the Syrian public about important issues and gives voice to the voiceless Syrians inside and outside Syria” (Enab Baladi, 2022). Radio Rozana news website2 (1. million Facebook followers)

Founded in June 2013 with headquarters in Paris and Gaziantep, Rozana.fm is an online radio station with Arabic and English news websites targeting Syrian audiences, with a focus on the age group between 16 and 40. Its mission is to be “an independent media that respect human rights including gender, interactive and freedom of expression” (Rozana Radio, 2022). In addition to offering access to its radio live transmission, Rozana’s online websites provide a wide range of opinion articles, reports, and visual content relying on the editorial staff of 20 broadcast journalists and a big network of reporters inside Syria (Rozana Radio, 2022). Rozana also pays special attention to advocating for Syrian women and children’s rights by tackling issues of unspoken violence and raising awareness campaigns about women’s role in political and social life. The two media outlets adopt a similar editorial policy and oppositional political leaning that facilitated their cooperation in publishing joint investigative reports and news articles. Thus, this chapter does not aim to employ a comparative approach but rather analyzes the content of the two websites to acquire a better understanding of the various advocacy strategies adopted by Syrian diasporic opposition media in reporting on the ongoing conflict. Research findings Content-​related diaspora advocacy

Investigating news content comes first in understanding what diasporic journalism is and how it promotes certain advocacy stances through its news reporting that targets both the domestic homeland and diasporic audiences. Content analysis identified several advocacy strategies in the diasporic websites’ news coverage that can be grouped into four categories: promoting underrepresented voices, promoting criticism/​accusations, promoting opposition stances, and promoting sympathy and humanitarian aspects. Putting these advocacy strategies into practice involves a series of editorial selections

168  Rana Arafat Table 10.1 Diaspora journalism’s content-​related advocacy strategies Promoting Underrepresented Voices (Selection of information sources)

Promoting Opposition Stances (selection of adjectives)

Promoting Sympathy & Humanitarian Aspects (selection of story format & angle)

Promoting Criticism/​ Accusations (selection of advocate frames)

• Promoting unofficial/​ citizen sources • Empowering voices of human rights activists and civil society actors • Presenting various oppositional voices

• Use of adjectives • Focusing on • Employing delegitimizing humanitarian persuasive the Syrian regime angles of arguments and • Use of adjectives coverage & evidence siding with local personalizing civilians the conflict • Use of adjectives • Victimizing opposing foreign civilian actors intervention

of adjectives, information sources, story formats, advocate frames, presentation of actors, and angles of coverage in the news articles. Table 10.1 summarizes the content-​related advocacy strategies in diasporic journalism. Category 1: Content promoting underrepresented voices: challenging traditional sourcing norms and routines

The findings demonstrated that empowering citizens, opposition activists, human rights defenders, and civil society workers, by giving them more space and weight in the news articles and presenting them as the main actors in each story, is one of the main advocacy strategies employed by the Syrian diaspora news websites. This contradicts the sourcing norms in the mainstream press where journalists reinforce the state structure of power by quoting official actors of authority more than unofficial actors and governing officials more than non-​governing officials (Bora, 2015; Korthagen, 2013). To challenge the traditional hierarchy of sources, the diasporic news articles promoted three types of non-​government and non-​elite voices: a) Promoting unofficial/​citizen sources: reporting voices of local correspondents, eyewitnesses, activists, and diasporic experts. Almost every news story or investigative report in the analysis gives attribution to one or two anonymous local correspondents with whom Enab Baladi and Rozana collaborate to interview local Syrian citizens and activists and collect firsthand information about the ongoing conflicts and demonstrations. Activists, protesters, students, and displaced families were quoted explaining their problems and describing their “harsh” living conditions. Most of the quoted local citizens and eyewitnesses

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  169 are also allowed to speak on the condition of anonymity or to use a nickname to avoid persecution and arrest. Although Carlson (2011) argues that anonymity “creates stress between journalists and audiences by masking unseen alliances and hidden source motives,” anonymity of sources was necessary for reporting about Syria to protect local correspondents and sources from getting murdered or persecuted. Unlike reporters in the legacy media, those anonymous sources can move freely without governments tracking them, and cover important stories beyond official events and press conferences (Seo, 2020). The followings are demonstrative examples: Enab Baladi’s correspondent said that a group of citizens, including men, women, and children, went out today, Friday, January 17, with a demonstration in the main square of the city of Shahba. (Enab Baladi, Syria, Jan 17, 2020) Abu Fayyad, one of the demonstrators, said to Rozana: “We continue with our demonstrations until they hear our voice, and give us our most basic rights to live.” (Rozana, News, Jan 16, 2020) The source, speaking on the condition of anonymity for security reasons, added that As-​Suwayda is subject to a set of affiliations that are responsible for maintaining the security situation there, without direct intervention by the regime in this regard. (Enab Baladi, In-​Depth, Jan 2020) To overcome the limited access to local news sources, online sourcing platforms including social search engines and media platforms allowed diasporic media outlets to keep a close track of local citizens’ complaints and politicians’ online statements to get breaking news, local contacts, and story leads, even in regions with a high-​security grip. This use of “digital and distanced techniques” was also reported by the foreign correspondents reporting on countries with dictatorial or semi-​democratic regimes including Iran and North Korea (Seo, 2020, p. 284). For instance, Enab Baladi monitors local Facebook news pages and people’s comments on them to acquire up-​to-​date information about current events. To report on Suwaida’s demonstrations, for example, Enab Baladi relied on videos and photos published by Suwayda 24’s Facebook page run by opposition activists, as well as many local economic websites including the SalaryExplorer and the Syrian Pound Today to analyze the reasons for the high prices and deteriorating living standards. Some of these online sources are kept anonymized where you can find sentences like: “According to some information monitored by Enab Baladi via its social media networks” or “as monitored by Enab Baladi from local sources.” Observing people’s comments on the social media pages

170  Rana Arafat helps Enab Baladi to further provide analysis and conclusions about regular people’s opinions: Enab Baladi monitored through local Facebook pages the solidarity of the locals in Tartus with Suwaida demonstrations, through comments on pictures of the demonstrations published by the page, unlike other Syrians who considered, via the comments, that these movements are “politicized” or “part of a conspiracy against the Syrian people.” (Enab Baladi, In-​Depth, Jan 26, 2020) The content analysis also revealed another tactic used by diasporic journalists to encounter the logistical difficulty and high costs of transnational reporting by depending on various easy-​to-​access diasporic sources. Unlike short news stories, investigations and analytical reports included more quotes from non-​local sources such as Syrian diaspora researchers, legal and economic experts, and political analysts to give analytical viewpoints, especially in articles about the Turkish-​Russian military intervention in Idlib. Many of these diasporic sources are located in Turkey where the two websites have headquarters. b) Empowering voices of human rights activists and civil society actors: Used as proof of the failure and brutality of the Syrian regime and its supporters, the coverage of Enab Baladi and Rozana depends widely on statistics and reports published by local and international human rights organizations to monitor the violations and destructive consequences of the local policies and military campaigns led by the Syrian regime, its Russian ally, and some opposition groups. Including statements of officials from these associations allows for an understanding of the conflict context, its background, and consequences and to empower human rights defenders by getting their voices heard and giving visibility to their data on war crime evidence. This focus on human rights reporting, especially disseminating information about violations, demonstrates the “newspapers’ critical independence from the state and providing in-​ demand, democracy-​ enhancing information” (McPherson, 2012, p. 119) has the potential to raise local and international public awareness, put pressure on politicians, and call for accountability and justice (Balasundaram, 2019). Among the frequently mentioned local organizations in the analyzed news stories of the two outlets are the Syrian Response Coordination Group, the Syrian Civil Defense (White Helmets), and the Syrian Network for Human Rights which documented the numbers of victims and displaced people during the five military campaigns that violated the Russian-​Turkish ceasefire agreement. Regarding international organizations, reports by Human Rights Watch (HRW) on the number of murder cases in Syrian prisons, and statistics published by the United Nations about killed and displaced Syrian civilians are among the frequently used sources in many articles. In particular, stories

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  171 covering the displacement of citizens and Turkish-​Russian military operations in Syria, Enab Baladi and Rozana paid special attention to interviewing local civil society actors, including founders and volunteers of the rescue initiatives that offer services and shelters for displaced civilians: The team of the Syria Response Coordination Group revealed that the number of displaced families in the southern and eastern countryside of Idlib between last November and the beginning of the new year 2019 reached more than 55,664 families (328,418 people). (Rozana, News, Jan 4, 2020) According to HRW, thousands died in the Syrian regime’s prisons in 2019 after being brutally tortured and forced to live in terrible detention conditions. (Enab Baladi, In-​Depth, Jan 26, 2020) c) Presenting various oppositional voices: Stories in Enab Baladi and Rozana included direct and indirect quotes from many opposition leaders in various factions such as the spokespeople of the opposition Syrian High Negotiations Committee (HNC), the Ministry of Development and Humanitarian Affairs in the Syrian Salvation government, as well as leaders of the Turkish-​backed Free Syrian Army and the National Liberation Front who in many articles announced their responsibility for killing fighters of pro-​Assad forces. The opposition social media networks, including the Ebaa Telegram news network affiliated with the Tahrir El-​Sham Jihadist militant group, are another online sourcing platform for acquiring information. Although their news coverage gives space for opposition actors to voice their opinions, no clear support for any of these factions by diasporic journalists was identified in the content analysis: A member of the Men of Dignity Movement who refused to mention his name because of security reasons told Rozana: “The demonstrations the Suwaida governorate has witnessed against corruption and corrupt people under the slogan (We want to live) are a true popular demand, and we stand with it.” (Rozana, News, Jan 27, 2020) The official Spokesperson of the opposition Syrian High Negotiations Committee (HNC), who is from the province of Suwaida, Yahia al-​Aridi, thinks that the root cause of the protests is that the people of Suwaida took to the streets to reclaim their legitimate rights. (Enab Baladi, Syria, Jan 9, 2020) In addition to presenting local oppositional voices, the news articles in Enab Baladi and Rozana also cited various Syrian, Turkish, Russian, and American

172  Rana Arafat state-​affiliated sources by including excerpts of policy makers’ statements, especially in articles tackling the foreign intervention in the ongoing Syrian conflict. Quotes from the key foreign players in the Syrian conflict including the Turkish and Russian presidents; the Turkish, Russian, and Syrian foreign ministers; the US secretary of state, as well as Donald Trump’s tweets were used in news stories. Unsurprisingly, quotes from official state actors were either collected from their social media pages or other international media outlets with a very limited number of pro-​regime Syrian officials or politicians interviewed in the two outlets. Category 2: Content promoting oppositional stances: the selection of adjectives

Selecting adjectives in the two online diasporic media outlets promotes three main advocacy strategies: a) Adjectives delegitimizing the Syrian regime: In Enab Baladi and Rozana, Al-​Assad’s government is always referred to as the “Syrian Regime” and never as the Syrian government, state, or republic as many local pro-​state media outlets tend to describe it. Consistently, Bashar Al-​Assad is referred to as the “president of the Syrian Regime.” According to the Oxford dictionary, a regime is defined as “a method or system of government, especially one that has not been elected in a fair way” or “a government, especially an authoritarian one.” Repeating such classification in the news coverage suggests a way of depriving this ruling structure of its authority and undermining its legality and right to govern. Consistently, the regime is associated repetitively with many negative adjectives in the two outlets’ reporting, such as “massive oppression,” “troubled,” with “failed” attempts by the government to control prices, “flawed” legislative decrees, and “rampant corruption” in state institutions, while describing measures taken by the regime as “hysterical” and “a new nail in the coffin of the Syrian economy.” While some of these adjectives/​ descriptions are written directly by the reporters, many are attributed to the interviewed oppositional sources especially citizens, analysts, and experts. On the other hand, anti-​regime rebels such as Suwaida’s protesters were recurrently described in Enab Baladi using positive adjectives including “peaceful protesters,” “peaceful movement,” and “spontaneous campaign.” This reflects what D’Alessio and Allen (2000) call “statement bias,” where the coverage is favorable toward certain actors/​parties and unfavorable toward others. b) Adjectives siding with civilians: The coverage of Enab Baladi and Rozana pays great attention to tackling the current living conditions of Syrian civilians and the related humanitarian, health, and economic circumstances they encounter. For example, the living situation in Syria, especially in the Suwaida governorate, was associated with negative descriptions such as “harsh,” “severe,” “deteriorating living situation,” and people’s deep sense of “defeat.” Similarly, the

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  173 displacement of civilians in Idlib was referred to as “Idlib’s disaster,” “humanitarian catastrophe,” “hysterical,” “escalated human suffering,” “a curse amid a floating geography in conflicts,” and “the most violent escalation campaign against the last Syrian opposition stronghold” within “difficult living and security conditions.” The afflicted families are described as “victims.” Notably, investigative reports have more usage of biased (negative/​positive) adjectives than shorter news stories. Using similar adjectives by the two diasporic media outlets reflects how they share similar oppositional agendas that open the door for the regular production of collaborative investigative reports between them. In so doing, it is clear that the Syrian journalists working for the two websites do not detach themselves from the homeland’s conflict. This reflects on their depiction of the conflict in terms of “victim” versus “oppressor,” and “good” versus “evil” (Ruigrok, 2008) by overtly blaming the regime and siding with the civilians and anti-​regime protesters in many stories. c) Adjectives opposing foreign (Russian) intervention: Regarding the foreign actors, the Russian intervention is always connected to various negative adjectives in the reporting by repetitively quoting sources that call the military campaigns of the Syrian-​Russian alliance forces “massacres,” “crimes against humanity,” and “breaches” of the cease-​fire agreements, with Turkey and its counterterrorism strategies as an excuse to justify its attack on Idlib. A few adjectives are associated with the Turkish response to ceasefire violations. These adjectives are mentioned in quotes by military analysts who described Turkey as the “weakest party” in the Sochi agreement, with a “limited” role and “insignificant influence” where it is standing aside “passively.” Category 3: Content promoting sympathy and humanitarian aspects: story formats and angles of coverage

a) Focusing on the humanitarian angle and personalizing the conflict: News articles on the two websites tackled the three political topics under study with a great focus on humanitarian perspectives and less concentration on political and military angles. Similar prioritization of the “conflict,” “human interest,” and “responsibility” angles was identified in the African diasporic press (Ogunyemi, 2015). For example, Enab Baladi provided daily updates about the numbers of murdered and displaced civilians in Idlib, focusing on the economic, educational, and psychological consequences of displacement including the suspension of school attendance, deterioration of the education sector, the increasing prices of house rents, and the roles of civil society and humanitarian aid organizations in rescuing displaced civilians and providing emergency shelter. By publishing more human-​interest stories and focusing on individual cases of families that took refuge in a chicken coop, a couple’s love story separated by displacement and war, and the inhuman circumstances displaced families encounter in refugee camps on the Syrian-​Turkish borders,

174  Rana Arafat Rozana personalized the crisis, aiming to capture the audience’s attention and increase their engagement with the news stories (Beyer & Figenschou, 2014). b) Victimizing civilian actors: With a focus on the number of murdered, kidnapped, and displaced civilians, the two diaspora websites presented civilians, whose lives are significantly impacted by the military shelling of the regime and the exploitations of some opposition groups, within the “victim frame.” By showing the impact of shelling, bombing, and destruction on the lives of civilians, the two websites sided with Syrian citizens and indirectly promoted their oppositional advocacy agenda against the “oppressive” regimes in the homeland, presenting a form of bottom-​up surveillance (Cammaerts, 2015): Between the exploitation of the Salvation Government and the bombing of the regime, the suffering of the displaced in Idlib continues. (Rozana, headline, News, Jan 6, 2020) Category 4: Content promoting criticism/​accusations: advocate frames

a) Using persuasive arguments and evidence (Advocate frames): In Enab Baladi’s article sample, journalists employed various advocate frames using persuasive explanations that involved particular ways of interpreting topics and conflicts, and promoting certain viewpoints rather than straightforward information formats (Tewksbury et al., 2000). For instance, the Syrian regime was directly accused of various crimes and violations, including carrying out military campaigns in collaboration with its Russian ally that resulted in the displacement of millions of civilians and the death of thousands, arresting activists and opposition leaders, and cooperating with the local militia that carries out kidnapping and assassinations. Many of these accusations are accompanied by statistics, statements, and reports published by international human rights associations and local civil society organizations that document violations inside Syria. Promoting this fact-​ based information meets one of the main criteria of advocacy journalism (Berney & Robie, 2008). However, the websites’ criticism against the regime comes in two forms: explicit (direct criticism by journalists) and implicit (reported criticism by sources), with the second type more prominent in most of the news content. The following excerpts are demonstrative examples of the two types: The Syrian regime dyed the end of 2019 with blood and gunpowder in the southern countryside of Idlib causing the displacement of hundreds of thousands to the north. (Enab Baladi-​Rozana, In-​Depth, Jan 19, 2020, Explicit) Regime forces violate the armistice and bomb the separate areas in Idlib. (Rozana, News, Jan 11, 2020, Explicit)

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  175 In 2019, the Syrian regime arrested hundreds of former activists and opposition leaders as well as members of their families according to a year’s events report issued by Human Rights Watch (HRW). (Enab Baladi, In-​Depth, Feb 1, 2020, Implicit) Other accusations are based on the outlets’ own investigations referring to themselves as a source of information. By doing so, the diaspora media outlet gives legitimacy to the story by presenting themselves as a source while simultaneously legitimizing their media credibility through the story: As-​ Suwayda was of the governorates that witnessed anti-​ regime demonstrations at the beginning of the Syrian revolution. However, the regime, which did not directly intervene in their suppression, cooperated with local militias from the people of the governorate to carry out the mission. This was found by Enab Baladi in a previous investigation entitled “As-​Suwayda … An Isolated Island Was Awaiting Its Fate.” (Enab Baladi, In-​Depth, Feb 1, 2020) However, it is important to argue that the nine advocacy strategies proposed in this chapter are closely connected and interchanging. As findings demonstrated, diasporic news websites usually employ multiple content-​related strategies to promote a certain advocacy role in their news reporting. To advocate for the Syrian civilian’s rights, for instance, diasporic journalists choose to victimize civilians using certain news frames, empower their voices that are usually underrepresented in mainstream media, and use adjectives and persuasive arguments to side with them while focusing on the humanitarian angles of storytelling to show their deteriorating living conditions and provoke sympathy. It can be further argued that connecting certain determinants of advocacy (e.g., adjectives, information sources, angles of coverage, etc.) to certain advocacy strategies in the analysis (see Table 10.1) does not necessarily mean that they cannot predict other strategies, while the selection of adjectives, for example, was more decisive and relevant for the strategy of “promoting opposition stances” as the findings have shown that adjectives might also be employed by diasporic journalists to promote accusations, criticism, sympathy, or humanitarian angles of coverage. Discussion: theoretical and critical implications Theorizing in this chapter goes beyond the current knowledge on diasporic journalists’ role in challenging power authorities and documenting violations and war crimes (Balasundaram, 2019; Cook, 2016; Kämpe, 2017). It moves the discussion forward by identifying how their opposition advocacy goals are operationalized into various content-​related strategies that are reflected in every step of the news production process including story narration, framing, and presentation (Hanitzsch & Hoxha, 2014). This involves a series of selective

176  Rana Arafat editorial decisions through which diasporic journalists chose humanitarian angles of storytelling to focus on destruction, promoted voices outside of authority, and gave a space for various oppositional groups to speak for themselves without supporting any of their viewpoints. Story framing involves utilizing persuasive arguments instead of straightforward information and using adjectives that intentionally delegitimize the Syrian regime while victimizing civilians. Although diasporic journalism fosters democratic dialogues through pluralizing voices and presenting non-​elite actors marginalized in Syrian legacy media coverage (Kamboh & Yousaf, 2019), it challenges the traditional journalistic norms of objectivity and impartiality. However, their journalistic practice can still be differentiated from propaganda as most of their stories incorporate fact-​based evidence collected from diverse online and offline sources with a focus on using statistics and reports published by international and national human rights organizations. Similar cases of journalists abandoning the objectivity norm in diasporic and non-​diasporic war contexts were reported in the literature such as Burmese exile media (Nordahl, 2009), Ethiopian diasporic websites (Skjerdal, 2011), and advocate journalists reporting on the Bosnian war (Ruigrok, 2008). Therefore, it would be naive to simply claim that advocacy journalism, in the unique diasporic conflict context, would either empower or endanger journalism and democracy. It offers a wide range of advantages and drawbacks that should be carefully taken into consideration. Based on the findings, I argue that the online Syrian diasporic journalism reporting on the ongoing homeland civil war presents a unique case where achieving objectivity and adhering to conventional professionalism norms might be an unrealistic luxury. Diasporic journalists cannot escape taking sides when the only news stream coming out of the country represents the government’s view promoted by state-​backed media outlets that act as the government’s mouthpiece. They serve the public good by engaging in cyberwar to generate a parallel and alternative flow of information that challenges the vertical voice that circulates the regime’s propaganda and misinformation. Therefore, acting “beyond the notion of objectivity and play(ing) a proactive role to contribute towards the protection of human rights” might be inevitable to serve the information needs of their audiences (Balasundaram, 2019, p. 267). Drawing away from glorifying diasporic advocacy journalism, it is important to understand how the political affiliations of diasporic journalists and their pre-​migration persecution experiences in authoritarian rule significantly shape their news production and editorial advocacy agendas (Donsbach & Patterso, 1996). This might make them more vulnerable to tunnel vision where “the issue is perceived in such a way that it overrules the journalistic practice of balance and objectivity” (Ruigrok, 2008, p. 312). While in the Syrian case, the aim of defending the rights of civilians under threat might be a heroic advocacy goal and a worthy cause, diasporic advocacy journalism still raises various undeniable concerns. First, promoting one-​sided coverage might fuel the conflict. The Zimbabwean diasporic online community radio is an example where diasporic

Reporting on the Syrian conflict from exile  177 journalists served as the extreme opposite of the mainstream media and failed to provide solutions (Ncube, 2017). Therefore, audiences should be aware of the type of information they are fed, and diasporic journalists should make it clear when they cannot produce balanced stories, letting readers know they should be cautious when consuming such news (Ruigrok, 2008). Second, it is important also to consider the influence of the government of the diasporic journalists’ host country on their news reporting, especially if it is involved in the homeland’s conflict, such as Turkey. Third, the sustainability of the donor-​ funded business model of diasporic media might also risk the impartiality of the news they provide. We need to think of the future of these diasporic media outlets if the yearly funding is not granted, or if they are compelled to take money from certain political movements or Islamist groups. Concluding remarks Driven by the “reformist impulse” (Waisbord, 2009) and benefiting from the value of distance (Seo, 2020), diasporic journalists used nine content-​ related advocacy strategies to promote clear opposition stances in their news coverage, exceeding the information dissemination and analysis functions. Employing these advocacy strategies reinforces diaspora journalists’ power as “gatekeepers” of information whose selective portrayal of events contributes to socially constructing the reality of conflict in their homelands (Fisher, 2016), and facilitates the transnational information flow in a repressive military sphere where political expression is highly restricted (Pidduck, 2012). The findings of the chapter give empirically based insights into how political communication works in diasporas, connecting to the focus of this book on two levels. First, they demonstrate how exiled journalists, as opposition diasporic communities, serve a crucial role in transnational mobilization calling for democratic reformations in their war-​torn homeland by engaging in forms of political advocacy from a distance. Second, the findings show how using digital media as tools for news gathering, sourcing, and dissemination continues to empower the rise of new voices documenting war crimes and supporting democracy in Middle East diasporas. Previous scholars debated how digital connectivity empowered diasporic exiles’ engagement in transnational homeland politics (e.g., Borkert et al., 2018; Sözeri, 2016). However, Syrian diaspora journalists did not only use the internet as a medium to reach their local audiences, but also they used it as a sourcing channel through which they created a decentralized participatory news ecosystem (Heinrich, 2011; Seo, 2020) where various actors including citizen journalists, human rights defenders, activists, diasporic experts, political opposition actors, as well as the public audience serve as news providers. Their shift to online sourcing platforms allowed them to challenge the traditional sourcing hierarchy, overcome the challenges reported by journalists collecting information in hard-​to-​reach countries (Seo, 2020), and monitor local people’s complaints on a daily basis to collect first-​hand testimonies while saving time and cost.

178  Rana Arafat Notes 1 Enab Baladi’s website: https://​engl​ish.ena​bbal​adi.net/​ 2 Radio Rozana’s website: www.roz​ana.fm/​en/​home

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Index

Note: Figures are indicated by italics. Tables are indicated by bold. Endnotes are indicated by the page number followed by ‘n’ and the endnote number e.g., 20n1 refers to endnote 1 on page 20. Abdelhadi al-​Khawaja 155, 156 activism 7, 9, 16, 21, 27–​9, 35–​6, 39, 52, 55, 75–​6, 78, 81, 97, 99, 103, 115–​16, 144–​58, 162–​4 adversarial 88, 104 Afghanistan 9, 108–​22 Ahrar al-​Bahrain al-​Islamiyya 149 Al Khalifa 144 Alkompis 8, 86–​7, 89–​3, 97–​9, 102 Ali Salman 150 al-​Wasat (newspaper) 150, 156 al-​Watan (newspaper) 156 Al-​Wifaq 150–​1 Arab diaspora 7–​8, 13–​14, 17–​20, 22, 24–​9, 86–​7, 90–​1, 145, 152 Arab Spring 1, 3, 6, 13–​15, 17, 53, 78, 86, 129, 144 Arab uprising 1–​2, 6 Armenian diaspora 34–​6, 38–​9, 43, 46–​7, 71, 126 Armenian genocide 35, 38–​9, 41–​2, 44 Armenian National Committee 35 artists 52, 56–​8, 63–​4, 76, 90, 130 Ashraf Ghani 110, 118, 121 Asylum seekers 86, 104n1 authoritarianism 1–​3, 5, 8, 14–​16, 23–​4, 67–​9, 71, 76–​7, 79, 81, 147 Bahrain Freedom Movement 146, 149 Bahrainis 9, 144–​57, 158n2 Beirut 7, 61–​5, 65n15 camera 107 censorship 2, 52, 59–​60, 63–​4, 129, 16

Common Sense on Syria 72, 74, 76–​7, 78, 79–​81 conspiracy 8, 71, 73–​5, 79–​80, 180 constitution (Afghan) 115 constitutional 115, 125 contentious politics 5, 10, 10n1, 14 conversation analysis 70 Copenhagen 10n1, 26–​7, 30n1, 109, 113, 116–​17, 122, 154–​6 counter-​mobilization 70 counter-​narratives 163 country of origin 2–​3, 5, 8, 10, 17, 19, 25, 29, 146, 148, 153, 158, 162 country of residence 3, 17, 18, 19, 20–​2, 29, 99, 103 Covid-​19 55–​8, 64, 67, 71, 73, 80, 90–​5, 92, 93, 100, 102 Dar al-​Hikma 144, 150–​2, 155, 158n5 demobilization 9, 16, 146, 148, 150, 152, 154, 157 demonstrations 1, 2, 15, 23, 101, 103, 107, 109, 112, 129, 146, 148, 165, 168–​9, 171, 175 diaspora journalism 162, 165 diaspora media 86–​8, 146, 161, 163, 175 diasporic groups 67, 169, 172, 173, 177 diasporic media 67, 169, 172–​3, 177 diasporic political entrepreneurs 68, 76, 81 diasporic politics 3, 17–​18, 20, 28–​9, 68 digital authoritarianism 8, 16, 67–​9, 81, 147 digital communication 8, 56, 67, 108, 121

Index  183 digital connectivity 68, 147, 177 digital diaspora 9, 68, 107, 122 digital interactivity 8, 87 disinformation 8, 67–​77, 79–​81 disseminating 52, 145, 170 dissemination 53, 129, 151, 171 Doha 121 dystopia 93, 99–​100, 102–​4

Jalalabad 112–​13, 116, 120 Kabul 9, 107, 111–​13, 116, 120 Khomeini 98, 149 Kuffar 107 Lulu TV 150

Facebook 8, 20, 23–​6, 35, 40, 43, 47, 51, 53, 55, 58–​9, 61–​2, 65n20, 76, 80, 86–​7, 89–​91, 107, 115, 117–​18, 122, 129–​30, 154, 166–​7, 169–​70 Farkhunda Malikzada 9, 107 feminism 114–​15 FinFisher 147 French-​speaking 138 friendship networks 7, 13, 21, 25–​6, 28–​9

Mahram 110 mainstream media 9, 87, 107, 109, 112, 120, 163, 175, 177, 130 Majid al-​Allawi 150 Malalai Kargar 111, 114–​15, 121–​2 Mansoor al-​Jamri 149 Mazar-​e Sharif 11, 113 mediatized diaspora 7, 10n1, 14, 145, 149, 156–​7 Middle Eastern diaspora 1–​11, 146 military coups 2, 14–​16, 24, 26 misinformation 8, 67–​77, 79–​81, 176 multicentric 148 Mushaima 151 Muslim Brotherhood 1, 24

Gamma International 147 gender 19, 37, 75, 114–​16, 167 generations 9–​10, 127–​8, 130, 134, 138–​40, 144

networked communication 162 news websites 3, 10, 25, 162, 164–​8, 175 NGO 25–​6, 110, 115, 151, 163 Nørrebro (in Copenhagen) 154

hashtag 9, 44, 53, 59, 65n12, 99, 101, 103, 109–​10, 117–​18, 120 headscarf 107 Herat 111, 113 History from Below 72, 74, 76, 78–​81, 78

observation (digital) 24 offline 25, 51, 53–​4, 63–​4, 108, 121, 129, 131, 145, 148, 152, 157, 176 online campaigning 7, 13, 21, 23–​5, 28 online platforms 34, 86–​7, 102, 131, 146 open space engagement 87 opposition diasporic communities 177 oppression 1, 24, 77–​8, 81, 115, 172 orientalism 88 othering 87–​9, 96, 98, 103–​4

electoral campaigns 9, 126 ethnographic 51, 108–​9, 120 exiled 15, 144, 149, 155, 158n4, 162, 177 exiles 144, 151–​2, 155, 177

ideology 89, 103, 151 imagined transnational community 67 immigrants 1, 5, 15, 24, 26, 28, 34, 90, 96–​7, 101–​3 immigration 2, 13–​15, 26, 104n1, 125 imperialism 71, 75, 77, 78–​80, 78, 115–​16 infrastructure 67, 112 Instagram 51, 56, 58–​9, 61–​3, 65n13, 65n22, 107, 115, 117–​18 intercultural communication 16–​17, 20 interlocutor 61, 156 internal other 89, 96, 98, 103–​4 international activism 21, 27–​9 involvement in political parties 21, 21, 28–​9 Islamism 25, 139, 158n3 Islamist 15–​16, 21, 23, 41, 144, 149, 151, 158n3, 177

Pakistan 115 parliamentary elections 21, 149 Pashtun 109 past presencing 42, 47 polarization 25, 108 political change 55, 162 political lobbying 35–​6, 40–​1, 46 political mobilization 3–​4, 6–​7, 120, 146 popular music 54, 62 posters 44, 107, 109, 117 post-​memory 42 pro-​democracy activists 71 professionalism 163, 176

184  Index public opinion 38, 42–​3, 47, 164 public sphere 54, 161 Qatar 2, 35, 121 qualitative content analysis 162, 164 refugees 16, 22, 38, 78, 79–​80, 100, 102, 122n1, 147 repression 14–​17, 25, 68–​9, 146–​50, 157 repressive homelands 161 residency permits 99–​100 Said al-​Shihabi 149–​50 Sawt al-​Bahrain 146, 149 secularism 25, 98 self-​expression 25, 161 shared identity 4, 34, 67–​8 Shia 144, 149, 151, 153–​5, 157, 158n3 shrine 107 Skype 25, 76 smartphone 9, 61, 112, 120, 162 social realities 69 socialist 21, 74–​7, 81n7, 75, 116 software 20, 132, 147 songs 22, 52, 54, 58–​60, 63–​4, 65n10 spheres of engagement 18, 28 stakeholders 108–​9, 161 state-​owned media 10 Sunni 134, 144, 153 surveil 147 surveillance 2, 53, 69, 147–​8, 150, 174 Sweden Today 8, 86–​93, 97–​9, 102 Syrian Armenians 7, 34–​5, 40–​1 Syrian conflict 10, 24, 161–​81 Syrian diaspora 24, 27, 67–​9, 76–​7, 87, 102, 129, 147, 165, 168, 170, 177 Syrian diaspora journalists 165, 177 Syrian uprising 40, 68, 71–​2, 76–​7, 78, 79, 161

Tajik 109 Taliban 108, 110, 116, 120–​1 telecommunication 108 Telegram 120, 171 third space 86, 104 transitional justice 68–​9 transnational diasporic communication 67 transnational media 3, 6, 161 transnational political action 68 transnational political experiences 162 transnational repression 69, 146–​9, 157 transnationalism 5, 39 trial 107 Turkish-​speaking 9, 125–​6, 130, 132, 134–​5, 136, 139–​40 Twitter 44, 47, 51–​3, 55, 58–​60, 65n11, 65n12, 107, 109, 115, 117–​18, 120, 126, 130–​1, 133, 139–​40, 145, 154 undemocratic societies 161 underrepresented voices 10, 162, 167, 168, 168 Urdu 110 U.S. 39, 46, 78, 115 Utopia 93, 99, 101–​3 Veil 98–​9, 107 victimization 7, 166 visualization 44, 109, 117, 118, 119, 120 war crimes 72, 77, 165, 177 WhatsApp 20, 25, 52, 65n2, 117, 120, 145, 147, 152, 156 Women’s Day 111 Zaynab al-​Khawaja 156