Readings in Arab Middle Eastern Societies and Cultures [Reprint 2012 ed.] 9783110815740, 9789027910622

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Readings in Arab Middle Eastern Societies and Cultures

Readings in Arab Middle Eastern Societies and Cultures Edited by

ABDULLA M. LUTFIYYA American University of Beirut

and

CHARLES W. CHURCHILL American University of Beirut

1970

MOUTON THE H A G U E · PARIS

© Copyright 1970 in The Netherlands. Mouton & Co. N.V., Publishers, The Hague. No part of this book may be translated or reproduced in any form by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publishers.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER 69-19116

Printed in The Netherlands by Mouton & Co., Printers, The Hague.

To our children: Stephen and Andrew; Zana, Nawal, Sami David and Jad Jamil

Acknowledgments

We are deeply appreciative of the assistance rendered to us by the library staff of the Jafet Library at the American University of Beirut, especially Miss Evelyn Zacharia who has solved so many of our library problems while maintaining exceptional interest in our success. Our typists, Mrs. Zarouhie Kabakian, Miss Mary Fidanian, and Miss Juliet Vosbigyan have worked willingly, cheerfully and efficiently to lighten our burdens. However, our greatest gratitude is due to Mrs. Irini Lorfing, Research Assistant in the Dept. of Epidemiology and Biostatistics, for the long hours devoted to searching out references, accumulating excerpts, checking proofs and other chores too numerous to mention all in her customary efficient manner. We should like to take this opportunity to thank the authors and publishers who have granted us permission to republish the article in this volume. Detailed acknowledgements are found with the individual articles.

Preface

The area under consideration is a composite of numerous cultures and sub-cultures which have interacted and more or less accommodated themselves to each other and to their physical environments, ranging all the way from the flood valley of the Nile, which stretches interminably into history, to the Fertile Crescent; including Jordan, Syria, Lebanon and Iraq, equally old and perhaps even more complicated. The articles and book excerpts which have been included represent various social science disciplines. However, history is represented only incidentally as are geography, political science, and economics, inasmuch as these fields of study, particularly history and politics, have been the major focus of interest for scholars and laymen. But the real problems of the area are socio-economic and the emphasis of the book is on sociological analysis and/or anthropological investigation. We have decided to include only articles written originally in English or translated to that tongue. For this particular area most of the sociological. or sociologically slanted writing has been in English, unlike the North African area of the Maghreb where considerable work has been done by the French. In Arabic almost nothing has been written in the field. When Arabs discuss their sociologists they almost always name Ibn Khaldun (1332-1406 A.D.) as their outstanding figure. While Ibn Khaldun wrote on occasions about sociological subjects it was as an acute observer not as a disciplined social scientist. Today he would be classified as a historian and philosopher of history. Those very few Arabs who have become sociologists and anthropologists have almost all taken their advanced training in the United States and England and write in English.

χ

Preface

Arabic has been historically a language of poetry, not a language of precision, and consequently does not easily lend itself to modern sociological concepts. A meeting of Arab sociologists was held at the American University of Beirut (1964) where it was agreed that with the exception of Egypt almost nothing has been done in Arabic in the field. The Maghreb has not been included because it has had considerably different cultural infusions than is the case of the Fertile Crescent and Egypt. A volume on the area is certainly in order and probably should be in French. The purpose of the present volume is to provide the student of Middle Eastern society with a socio-economic framework of reference. Perhaps the book is more striking for its omissions than for its contents. The selections here contained are not the best of a GREAT amount of literature. They constitute almost ALL of the sociological writings of quality other than those devoted to the narrow research interests of a few sociologists, who generally and rightly name their efforts as pilot studies and urge further definitive work. In addition there are the books from which we have excerpted chapters. Our selections are to fit the needs of the volume and are not to be interpreted as the best but merely as the most useful parts of the books for our purposes. As a consequence of the paucity of research and writing in the field, this volume is as much a mosaic picture of the Middle East, as is the Middle East Society itself a mosaic of various cultures and sub-cultures. Our mosaic is not a definitive normative picture of the area, but we believe it affords some insights toward the construction of a coherent portrait. Until much more research has been done, a proper synthesis of materials into a sociology of the area must be postponed. The following articles are culled from a wide variety of sources in English and represent, we believe, the most objective cultural picture available in the literature. Generally sociologists have been hampered in their investigations by restrictions of sensitive governments and timid university administrations as well as by a general feeling of 'it can't be done' on the part of indigenous scholarly 'experts'. Since sociology is such a new discipline in the region, and has had a minimum of funds for research, the amount of empirical research is very limited. Convinced as they are of the value of their approach, sociologists are appalled at the seeming blindness of foundations, which grant money freely to economics and history scholars while neglecting the area of social relations. It is hoped that in some small way this volume will inspire further work in the field of sociology. Statistics for the area are in their infancy. Such sociological background data as censuses and surveys are either non-existent as in Lebanon or new and displaying varying degrees of completeness and accuracy

Preface

xi

as in most of the other countries. The Arabian peninsula is virtually terra incognita to the sociologist. For example a census of one of the Arabian Sheikhdoms was stopped by attacks from another country's radio, which claimed that the census was an imperialist trick, thus forcing the Sheikh to discontinue it. Another point at issue in the same census was whether women should be counted or not. In Lebanon a census is politically impossible because it is feared that the delicate ChristianMuslim political balance may be upset. Even such scholars as Carleton Coon 1 (who should know better) toss off comments about the slight Christian majority in Lebanon as if it were an established fact when the truth is that no one knows the population composition of the country. Iraq and Syria have had such unstable regimes in the recent past that research has been hampered, while in Egypt all research must have governmental permission which inevitably excludes large areas of investigation, particularly of political sociology. Finally the greatest source of friction between the West and the Middle East is Israel, the presence of which in the area leads to suspicions of the motives of western scholars in their research activities. Transliteration systems from Arabic into English are numerous. We have left unchanged the original transliterations of the various contributors. CHARLES W . CHURCHILL ABDULLA M . LUTFIYYA

1

Carleton Coon, Caravan, p. 1. footnote (New York, Henry Holt & Co., 1951).

Contents

Acknowledgments

vii

Preface

ix

SECTION ι : SOCIAL ORGANIZATION

1

Α. H. Hourani Race, Religion and Nation-State in the Near East

1

Μ. Berger Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

20

A. Lutfiyya Islam and Village Culture

44

S. Longrigg and F. Stoakes The Social Pattern

61

K. W. Morgan (ed.) The Levant

82

G. Weightman The Circassians

91

A. I. Tannous Group Behavior in the Village Community of Lebanon . . .

99

xiv

Contents

Η. Ammar The Social Organization of the Community

109

M. Awad Living Conditions of Nomadic, Semi-Nomadic and Settled Tribal Groups

135

P. Stirling Structural Changes in Middle East Society

149

D. Yaukey Fertility Differences in a Modernizing Country

162

M. A. El-Badry Some Aspects of Fertility in Egypt

168

SECTION II: CULTURE

187

R. Patai Middle East as a Culture Area

187

F. S. Vidal Date Culture in the Oasis of Al-Hasa

205

L. E. Sweet A Day in a Peasant Household

218

CA. Ε. von Grunebaum Ramadan

224

SECTION III: SOCIAL INSTITUTIONS AND CULTURAL CHANGE

235

R. Patai The Dynamics of Westernization in the Middle East . . . .

235

S. A. Morrison Islam and the West

252

CA. Issawi Economic and Social Foundations of Democracy in the Middle East 259

Contents

χν

Ch. Issawi Political Disunity of the Arab World

278

A. I. Tannous Social Change in an Arab Village

285

A. I. Tannous Emigration, A Force of Social Change in an Arab Village . .

300

J. Gulick Conservatism and Change in a Lebanese Village

314

P. A. Marr The Iraqi Village, Prospects for Change

328

J. Gulick Two Streams into One

339

P. J. E. Cachia The Conflict of East and West in Contemporary Egyptian Literary Taste 345 E. A. Kinch Labour Problems in the Early Days of the Industry

353

W. M. Carson The Social History of an Egyptian Factory

365

M. Berger Social Basis of Political Institutions

375

E. Salem Problems of Arab Political Behavior

402

M. Mark Economic Determinants of the Character of Afro-Asian Nationalism 412 M. Halpern The Army

420

G. Sfeir An Arab Transplanted

446

xvi

Contents

SECTION IV: SOCIAL STRATIFICATION

453

A. I. Tannous Dilemma of the Elite in Arab Society

453

F. C. Bruhns A Study of Arab Refugee Attitudes

465

L. Armstrong and G. K. Hirabayashi Social Differentiation in Selected Lebanese Villages

475

SECTION v : THE FAMILY

492

J. N. D. Anderson The Islamic Law of Marriage and Divorce

492

A. M. Lutfiyya The Family

505

A. H. Fuller The World of Kin

526

R. Patai Cousin-Right in Middle Eastern Marriage

535

K. el-Daghestani The Evolution of the Moslem Family in the Middle Eastern Countries

554

D. F. Beck The Changing Moslem Family of the Middle East

567

R. Patai Familism and Socialization

578

Ε. T. Prothro Patterns in Child-Rearing Practices

583

L. S. el Hamamsy The Changing Role of the Egyptian Woman

592

I. Lichtenstadter An Arab-Egyptian Family

602

Contents

xvii

SECTION V i : URBAN LIFE

619

G. Baer The City

619

Ch. W. Churchill Fertile Crescent Cities

643

J. Abu-Lughod Migrant Adjustment to City Life: The Egyptian C a s e . . . .

664

SECTION VII: THE ROLE OF COMMUNICATION

679

J. Adams Communication and Change in an Egyptian Village . . . .

679

E. Shouby The Influence of the Arabic Language on the Psychology of the Arabs 688 Ε. T. Prothro Arab-American Differences in the Judgment of Written Messages 704 W. D. Brewer Patterns of Gesture among the Levantine Arabs

713

Section I SOCIAL ORGANIZATION

A.H.

Hourani

RACE, R E L I G I O N A N D NATION-STATE IN THE N E A R EAST*

In this excerpt from Hourani's book, the editors have relaxed their decision not to include historical material, because the segment of the book offered here provides a good background to aid those not familiar with the area. The social organization of the area may be considered under the headings of types of groups; the relationships of the individual to the social organization, inter-group relations and intra-group relations. Of course authors do not write in neat little categories such as these. They tend to consider their own interest problem as a whole. I. Very roughly, a 'race' may be defined as a group of which the members share certain physical characteristics, such as colour, or have a common biological origin. By extension, the term may also be1 applied to groups of which the members are held together by the IDEA of common physical character or origin, even when the latter is fictitious. 'Racial conflicts' arise when the physical differences, real or supposed, are blended with other forms of difference between the groups - differences of status or function or interest or conviction - ; the physical difference may come to symbolize the other forms, and may itself play a part in making the conflict more bitter and the separation more rigid than it would otherwise have been. * A. Hourani, A Vision of History Near Eastern and other Essays (Beirut, Lebanon, Khayat's, 1961), pp. 71-105. 1 Ed. note: The verb should be 'has been' instead of 'may be'. Justifying error by its wide acceptance is a dangerous procedure.

2

Α. Η. Hourani

In the sense here defined, there are no clearly separated 'races' in the Near East, and no 'racial conflicts'. Throughout history, the greater part of the Near East has been subject to a succession of great empires, and some regions of it have been stages on the great trade routes of the Old World; there has been a continual moving and mingling of peoples, with the result that in almost every part of the area, and within almost all of its national communities, there can be found, to a greater or lesser degree, a mixture of people of different physical types and of varying origins. Moreover, the idea of physical difference has almost never assumed in the Near East the importance which it has had in some other parts of the modern world. The direct rule of the European nations was never imposed on all parts of the Near East; where it existed it did not last long or lead to the establishment of European settler communities; and when the European Powers sought to justify their predominance, they did so not so much in terms of 'race' as in terms of civilization or material progress or religion. Before they came the tensions which existed in Near Eastern society did not run along the lines of physical difference (except for the conflict, in the first centuries of the Caliphate, between those of Arabian tribal origin and other converts to Islam); and the idea that 'racial' difference was the most important division between human beings - the cause or symptom of the racial problems of the modern world - did not exist. There may have been, in certain places, a certain social prejudice against those of black complexion, and that identification of 'fair' with 'beautiful' or 'noble' which is to be found in many cultures; but where it existed it was due more to the association of blackness with slavery than to the colour itself, and it was never formalized into a doctrine, or taken so seriously as to become itself a cause of conflict. For this there were many reasons, and one of them was the domination of Islam over a great part of the Near East. For Islam teaches that while races exist, they, like all human distinctions, are of no importance in the last analysis; in the eyes of God, and therefore, of man also, the only real hierarchy is that of virtue, and there is neither black nor white, neither Arab nor Persian. While Islam limited the consciousness of racial difference, however, it gave rise itself to other forms of human difference. The primary divisions inside the Near East are, as they have been for over a thousand years, religious: whether a man is Moslem, Christian, or Jew, and which branch of the Moslem, Christian, or Jewish community he belongs to. The secondary division is that into ethnic groups, that is to say, communities of which the members have shared a historical experience long and profound enough to give them a significant degree of identity: in language, and all that is bound up with it, in modes of thought and feeling, and, within the limits already indicated, in physical characteristics (the

Race, Religion and Nation-State

3

product of a common environment and intermarriage). It is at this point, in the conflict between ethnic groups, that we may find a certain analogy with the racial conflicts which exist in other parts of the world. For racial conflicts, as we have said, are not just conflicts about physical difference. They are conflicts in which the fact or image of racial difference becomes a symbol of something else; behind them there lies the struggle of groups for power in a complex society, and they may end in the breakup of that society. There is a sense in which such conflicts, by the mere fact that they use 'racial' symbols, are different from other conflicts; but there is another sense in which they are analogous to other conflicts for power in a complex society, even when the racial idea is absent or unimportant. The Near East has seen such a conflict in the past century. There has been a struggle between different ethnic groups - a struggle into which political and economic rivalries and religious differences have entered no less than ethnic, differences, but of which ethnic identity has been the symbol and the rallying point; which has been given its shape by the Western nationalist idea, that ethnic identity should be the basis of political consciousness and organization; and which has led to the breakup of the political system which held the Near East together for many centuries. What follows is an attempt to describe and explain this process. II. For more than four hundred years, most of the Near East was ruled by the Ottoman Sultans and, until the reforms of the nineteenth century, the Ottoman Empire was primarily a religious state. The dominant element was Moslem, and indeed it was this element alone which constituted the political community. The Empire was the community of believers living in common under the authority of the sacred Law; and the Sultan was there to administer the Law, to extend its way in the world, and to protect the Moslem community from external dangers. There was, it is true, another great Moslem Empire adjacent - that of Persia - but its differentia was religious and not ethnic. At one time the Turkish Sultan was Persian by culture while the Persian Shah was Turkish in language; 2 but the former was Sunni Moslem while the latter was Shi'i, and, apart from the natural tendency of a power-system to maintain itself, it was this difference which separated them. Living under the protection of the Sultan, but not regarded as members of the political community, were the non-Moslems - the Christians and Jews. They were organized into communities or millets, each regulating its communal life in accordance with its own religious law, and each recognized as a civil entity dealing with the government through its * Sultan Selim II wrote Persian verse, while his contemporary Shah Ismail wrote only in Turkish.

4

Α. Η. Hourani

ecclesiastical head. There was a Jewish millet under the Grand Rabbi of Constantinople, an Orthodox millet under the Greek Patriarch of Constantinople, and an Armenian millet under the Armenian Patriarch of Constantinople.3 Here again, the differentiation between the communities was religious. Membership of each group was defined by acceptance of its doctrinal basis, regardless of origin or language; all the Jews of the Empire formed one millet whatever their provenance, and all the Orthodox formed one, whether they were Greek, Arabs, Rumanians, Bulgarians, or Serbs. Between majority and minorities there was always a certain tension, s there must be when men of different faiths live together. The nonMoslems had certain legal disabilities; what was more important, the majority tended to develop the arbitrary ways of unchallenged power, and the minorities the vices of servitude. But the tension became one of hostility only when the minorities were suspected of being in league with the foreign enemies of the Sultan. Some minority groups (Jews in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, Greeks in the eighteenth) were a necessary part of the Sultan's government, which relied on them to perform financial or diplomatic tasks which the Turks could not or would not do for themselves. Moreover, however high the barrier, it could be broken down by the act of conversion; converted Christians and Jews were absorbed wholly and immediately into the ruling group, and could aspire to the highest offices of the state.4 As time went on, however, the barriers between the different communities grew higher and harder to cross, and what had been religious tended to become 'national' groups. Their basis became not so much religious belief as the fact that one's ancestors had held that belief; ties of filial piety, intermarriage, and loyalty grew stronger; for a man to leave his community was looked upon as an act of treason. The word millet gradually acquired the meaning of 'nation', which it still possesses in Turkish. But this is not to say that religious loyalties destroyed all others. There were regions - the desert and steppe and part of the countryside - where the basic form of social organization was tribal. The principle of solidarity was not common belief but real or fictitious common ancestry; religious allegiance might be scarcely more than nominal. Even where the religious * These were the only three millets fully recognized before the changes of the nineteenth century, but there were others with a different basis of doctrine or religious practice and which enjoyed spiritual and, to some extent, civil autonomy: Copts, Syrian Orthodox, Assyrians, various Uniate groups. Some of these were officially recognized in the nineteenth century. * In the reign of Sultan Suleiman I (1520-1566), the post of Grand Vizir was held by nine men, all but one of Christian birth.

Race, Religion and Nation-State

5

organization was supreme - in the towns above all - the natural distinctions of language and national tradition were never wholly lost. Inside the Islamic community the distinction between Arabs, Turks, and Persians persisted. The Arabs were a people set apart. To them the revelation had been given, in an'Arabic Quran'and through an Arabian prophet; in the first generations, conversion to Islam involved affiliation to an Arab tribe, and even then a distinction persisted for some time between Arabs and 'clients' (mawali). The religious communities were shut off from one another on the levels of belief, personal law, and close personal relations, but on that of economic life they were closely intertwined. There were no legal restrictions on movement within the Empire; even before it came into existence the greater part of its territory had formed a single trading unit for hundreds of years; and its religious sects had grown up within a community which was already united, and of which the constituent elements were already inextricably mixed. For all these reasons, the different religious and racial communities were not sharply divided from one another geographically. Some of them (for example, the Arabs) were compact, possessing some region in which they formed the vast majority; others (for example, the Armenians) were in a minority in all their regions of settlement. Similarly, there were some regions which had a relatively homogeneous population, others in which the different groups were mixed at every level above that of the village (and even mixed villages were not unknown). Thus in the district around Alexandretta and Antioch, eight distinct communities lived side by side, each in its own village or quarters of the town.6 In such districts, the members of different groups often achieved a social and economic symbiosis which lasted for generations, and reduced to a minimum the tension of difference. In Lebanon, Maronites and Druzes accepted a common prince, and fought side by side in the endless wars of families and factions. In Kurdistan, the Kurdish and Assyrian tribesmen respected one another regardless of religion, and both alike despised and oppressed the cultivators, equally regardless of religion; there was a close alliance between the Assyrian Patriarch and the Kurdish Emir of Hakkiari, and when the second was away the first performed his administrative and judicial functions.® In the great towns, particularly those which were centres of government, trade, or pilgrimage, almost all the constituent elements of the Empire were represented; and until their disappear-

6

J. Weulersse, Paysans de Syrie et du Proche-Orient (Paris, 1946), p. 73. • P. Rondot, Les institutions politiques du Liban (Paris, 1947), and "Les Tribus montagnardes de l'Asie antirieure", in Bulletin d'Etudes Orientales of the Institut Francis de Damas, VI (1936).

6

Α. Η.

Hourani

ance the trade and craft guilds seem to have had Christian and Jewish as well as Moslem members.7 In so far as there was a social distinction between the communities, it was functional rather than geographical. There was a certain tendency (usually it was no more than that) for different groups to predominate in different occupations. The chief military and political offices tended to be in the hands of Moslems of Balkan or Anatolian origin. Arab and Egyptian Moslems played a large part in the religious hierarchy. Except in secluded districts, most of the land had passed into the hands of Moslems.8 There were Christian peasants, but, at least in the Asian provinces, they were fewer in proportion to the total Christian community than the Moslem peasants.® Private finance and commerce were left largely to Christians and Jews, and, in the public service too, Moslem governors had their Jewish or Christian men of affairs and financial officials. Doctors also were mostly Jewish and Christian. Most crafts were practiced by both Moslems and Christians, but some were exclusively Moslem, others Christian, and some were monopolized by small special groups. The Imperial postmen, for example, were Moslem Tartars, and the hotel trade of Baghdad is still almost wholly in the hands of Christians from Tel Kaif. III. The last century and a half have seen the breakdown of this social system. The keystone of the whole system was the supremacy of the Sultan and of the Turkish Moslem element which he represented; but from the seventeenth century his power decayed and with it the whole organization of the Empire. The constituent elements fell apart, and the collective will of districts and communities reasserted itself. In the nineteenth century, the European idea of nationalism began to spread, partly through schools, books and travel, and partly through the example of successful European nationalism. At the same time, the growth of European power and the rivalries of the Western states intertwined themselves with the emergent aspirations of the Near Eastern races. Sometimes those aspirations might conflict with the interests and policy of a Great ' H. A. R. Gibb and Harold Bowen, Islamic Society and the West (London, 1950), p. 289; Elie Qoudsi in Actes du Sixiime Congres International des Orientalistes, (Leiden, 1884), vol. II, pp. Iff. 8 Even in Greece, where Greeks were predominant and possessed considerable municipal autonomy, Turks owned eighteen times as much land person as Greeks: cf. C. M. Woodhouse, The Greek War of Independence (London, 1952), p. 36. * See, for example, Census of Palestine (1931, Alexandria, 1933), vol. I, p. 284. Even at that date, 64 per cent of the Moslems were engaged in agriculture, as against 18 per cent of the Christians; 10 per cent of the Moslems in industry, and 25 per cent of the Christians; 13 per cent of the Moslems in commerce, and 19 per cent of the Christians; 1.5 per cent of the Moslems in the professions, and 8.5 per cent of the Christians.

Race, Religion and Nation-State

7

Power; at others, they might be encouraged by a Great Power, granting its protection to churches or wealthy families or supporting claims to independence, in pursuit of its own interests; at others again - and they were the most tragic - a Near Eastern people might find itself torn between the rivalries of powers, alternately encouraged and abandoned, or simultaneously supported by one and opposed by another; and all the time, whether it succeeded or failed in its desire for a separate political existence, it found itself circumscribed, its political life dominated by the diplomacy or force of the Powers, its material life changed by Western processes and products, its inmost thoughts moulded by Western ideas of how men should live together in society. In particular, Western economic processes and education created two new social groups: the commercial and industrial class, and the professional men - lawyers, teachers, engineers, and army officers. As these groups developed and came to power, they took as their own the new idea of nationalism, both because of their Western education and because their interests led them to want a government they could control. Throughout the nineteenth century, successive Ottoman reformers had tried to cure the disease of rebellion by transforming the Empire from a Moslem state into a multi-national association based on equality. But sooner or later such attempts involved them in a contradiction: while equality might be desirable if the Empire were to prosper, inequality was necessary for it to exist at all. Its very existence depended upon the supremacy of the Turkish or Turkized Moslem element, which provided the political and military toughness that alone could save it from disintegration. When the reformers obtained unlimited power after the Revolution of 1908, a conflict broke out between those who placed the principle of equality first and those who placed Turkish supremacy first. The latter seized power; but what did they mean by 'Turks'? The idea of a Turkish people had been developed by European Turcologists and Turkish intellectuals from Russia, but it was still mixed with the idea of religion. The first Turkish nationalist thought of all the Moslem peoples of the Empire as potential Turks, and when once they had the power they tried to Turkize all Moslems by force. This, in its turn, aroused a defensive nationalism among those peoples which, while being Moslems and having been loyal to the Sultan, did not wish to become Turks. The Kurds, who also had played a large part in defending the frontier against Persia and holding down the restless peoples, began to organize as a national group;10 and the Arab national movement, which had previously been merged in the 10

See W. G. Elphinstone, in Journal of the Royal Central Asian Society, January, 1952, p. 91.

8

Α. Η. Hourani

general movement for Ottoman reform, now began to separate itself and aim at autonomy if not independence.11 IV. The tensions which broke up the Ottoman Empire did not disappear when the Empire was fully dissolved. Instead of a struggle for influence among groups inside a single Empire, there appeared a struggle for land and power among groups controlling different independent states. For the groups had been so intermingled in the Empire that it was impossible to say where each national territory ended. Each nationalist movement made its act of faith in a divinely given 'natural territory' with 'natural frontiers'. This led at least to frontier troubles, at worst to two groups trying to set up a nation-state in the same territory. Even when frontier questions had been settled, there remained the question of minorities. In a supra-national Empire several ethnic groups could live side by side in the same territory without asking whose it was; but once the nation-State was set up, those who did not belong to the nation in whose name the State was established also did not belong in the full sense to the political community. However long their ancestors had lived there, they were now regarded as strangers. At best, they lived on sufferance; at worst, they might be looked on as economic rivals by the new indigenous bourgeoisie, or as potential traitors by the new government, dangerous either because of their own strength or else through the use to which they might be put by a Great Power. The idea of the nation tended also to destroy the unity of the millet. In some instances, it is true, the nation was more or less coterminous with the millet: for example, among the Armenians, although even here there were Armenian Catholics and Protestants who belonged to the national but not to the religious community.12 But this was not true of the Moslem or Eastern Orthodox communities. If the nation was the object of final loyalty, what became of the ties which bound its members to those who shared their faith but spoke other languages? Religious ties might still be strong enough to create a certain fellow feeling; but the national idea, if carried to its logical conclusion, dissolved the political bond between men of the same religion. That the Balkan peoples were all Orthodox did not make them the friendlier to one another once they became independent; Arabs and Turks, although both Moslems, regarded each other with political suspicion once the Empire was destroyed. 11

See George Antonius, The Arab Awakening, (London, 1938). In 1915-1916, when the Young Turk Government forcibly deported and massacred the Armenian population of Asia Minor, the Catholics and Protestants were exempted. But on the other hand, the American Protestant mission schools had helped to spread the idea of nationalism among the Armenians; and even earlier the Catholics of the Mekhitarist Order had been largely responsible for that revival of Armenian culture which, here as elsewhere, had preceded the nationalist movement. 11

Race, Religion and Nation-State

9

A special case was that of Arab nationalism. While the majority of the Arab people were Moslems, a substantial minority were Christians, and many of these last were Arab by long tradition and culture, and national loyalty as well as language; but, on the other hand, the whole culture and history of the Arabs was inextricably bound up with Islam. Thus in the theories of the nationalist writers and the practice of political groups there was a certain ambivalence. At one extreme point were those Christian Arab nationalists who tried to formulate a nationalist concept without reference to Islam; at another were those who advocated an Arab revival, not for its own sake but as the key to Islamic revival and unity; at another, again, were those Lebanese nationalists who denied that the Arabspeaking Christians formed part of the Arab nation, and wished to create a Lebanese and essentially Christian nation. But in the middle were those who tried (at different levels of understanding) to hold together religious and national loyalties. Thus the advocate of 'Pan-Islam', Jemal al-Din al-Afghani, worked closely with such Syrian Christian writers as Adib Ishaq, and never doubted they would have a place in the new national community he wished to form; again, in Damascus in the 1940s, a Christian writer founded a new nationalist party based on respect for the prophet Muhammad, not as a founder of a religion but as a father of the Arab nation.13 The development of Egyptian nationalism also was special. It was not Egyptian nationalism which created the Egyptian nation-state, as elsewhere in the Near East; it was rather, as in the old states of Western Europe, that nationalism grew up inside a state already established as a dynasty. But in the virtually independent Egypt created by the family of Muhammad Ali there were important groups other than the Moslem Arabic-speaking Egyptians: the Turkish ruling group, the Levantine Christian and Jewish commercial middle class, and above all the Coptic Christians, who formed over ten per cent of the population and were Egyptian by any conceivable definition. The presence of these groups raised a question: which of them belonged to the Egyptian nation? In the first place, nationalism tended to be cosmopolitan and all-embracing, in this reflecting the aims of the Khedives even when it was opposed to them; among the earliest nationalists was a Jew, Ya'qub Sanu'a, and it was a Lebanese Christian who gave currency to the slogan 'Egypt for the Egyptians'. If the Nationalist Party became anti-Coptic after 1908, that was for political and not doctrinal reasons; and when nationalism revived after the First World War, with the foundation of the Wafd, it upheld the 'sacred union' of Copts and Moslems no less emphatically than it excluded the Turks and Levantines. Some writers, in order to 13

Cf. George Antonius, op. cit.; E. Rabbath, Unite Syrienne et devenir Arabe (Paris, 1937).

Α. Η. Hourani

10

justify this union, went back beyond Islam to the Pharonic origins of the Egyptians; and some Copts in their nationalist fervour declared that they could be both Moslems and Christians.14 In the last thirty years, successive governments have behaved with formal correctness toward the Copts, and few Egyptians outside the Moslem Brotherhood would wish to revive the medieval Islamic concept of a Moslem theocracy with Christians living as 'protected persons' within it; but the inescapable tension of religious difference within a national community has been more obvious than it seemed at that moment of fervour. V. Onto the relationship of ethnic groups within the Near East, there was grafted a no less tense and complex relationship between the Near Eastern peoples and those of the dominant West. On the purely political level, the relationship depended on the attitude which the Western nations took toward the struggle for independence. The Balkan nations, having been freed by the help of the Western liberal Powers, looked toward them with sympathy, and regarded with suspicion the Powers of Central and Eastern Europe who still threatened their new liberty; the Turks, looking on the Western Powers with suspicion as the real cause of their internal troubles, purged themselves of resentment by their complete victory in 1919-1923; the Arab nationalists of Syria and Iraq acquired a still unpurged resentment when, at the end of the First World War, they were placed under British and French control; the Egyptians, struggling to free themselves of British domination, veered between suspicion of all Western Powers and hopes that some rival of Britain would help them. Behind these political attitudes there lay a feeling of inferiority, both in those material resources and skills which are necessary for survival in the modern world, and in the political virtues on which the greatness and stability of states depend. This sense of inferiority could lead, in those who were not steadied by cool reflection, to rejection of Western civilization, or to uncritical acceptance of it. It could lead, too, to a cynical oversubtlety of political explanation, a willingness to think not only of others but even of oneself as an instrument of Western purposes: a sense of being only the shadow of another's reality, which might have tragic results, as when a people was overconfident in pressing its claims upon another, in the belief that some Great Power would back it up. But there were individuals who kept clear of these errors, having achieved a balance based on reason and self-respect, moving easily in the present world but firmly rooted in their own past. All such attitudes sprang from the feeling of the Near Eastern peoples "

See M. Colombe, devolution de VEgypte (Paris, 1951).

Race, Religion and Nation-State

11

that they lay not only under the power but under the judgment of the West; and it was not surprising that, faced with this lack of self-confidence, the judgment of the West should often be unfavourable, and should express itself in contempt - whether contempt for inferior peoples or for inferior cultures, whether open scorn at weakness and inefficiency, or the more subtle romantic liking for primitive peoples, so long as they do not disturb the pattern one is trying to impose. But mingled with this there was a sense of responsibility for those whose lives one had disturbed, and this, too, could show itself in many forms. VI. In the modern age, national tensions in the Near East have been most acute when certain conditions have been present: the embodiment of the national idea in independent nation-states; the presence of mixed populations; the growth of rival bourgeoisies ·, the persistence, behind the national feelings, of religious loyalties; the influence and rivalries of Great Powers. When all these conditions are present, the tension may issue in tragic disaster. The conflict between Arabs and Jews in Palestine was not dissimilar. On the one hand, the Arab people were just in process of passing into conscious nationhood, and thus of formulating the desire to include in a single political structure all those territories where the population was predominantly Arab. On the other hand, there was a group of Jewish thinkers who wished to fit the complex reality of Jewish history within the framework of the Western concepts of 'race' and 'nation'. In regard to the relationship between 'nation' and religion, the Zionists showed the same variety of attitudes as did other nationalists. There were some who rejected Judaism but still thought of themselves as members of the Jewish community; there were orthodox Jews who thought it blasphemous to turn away from the unique destiny of God's chosen people and try to become 'like all nations'; most Zionists accepted, however, the necessary connection of Judaism and the Jewish people, but tended to emphasize the latter more than the former. Thus Ahad Ha-am, one of the most profound Zionist thinkers, believed that: our religion is national - that is to say, it is a product of our national spirit but the reverse is not true. If it is impossible to be a Jew in the religious sense without acknowledging our nationality, it is possible to be a Jew in the national sense without accepting many things in which religion requires belief.15 The Zionists carried a stage further the nationalist correlation of people and land by laying claim to a land which they had once occupied but in 15

Ahad Ha-am, Essays, Letters, Memoirs, edited by Leon Simon (Oxford, 1946), p. 281. See also Maurice Simon, Jewish Religious Conflicts (London, 1950); Leon Simon, Studies in Jewish Nationalism (London, 1920).

Α. Η. Hourani

12

which Jews now formed scarcely more than ten per cent of the population.18 Thus there arose an irreconcilable conflict. The Jews claimed Palestine, both on grounds of need and because of their traditional connection with it; the Arabs could not abandon it, both because by any ordinary political criterion it was theirs and because its geographical position made it essential for the unity of the Arab peoples. Here again, once the conflict began, it became not just a struggle for power between two rival groups but a struggle for life of every individual in both communities. The conflict of peoples was also a struggle of social groups; of a mainly peasant community brought into close contact with a community which, in spite of all attempts at settlement on the land, was bound to remain largely urban and draw its strength from its modern industrial techniques and the capital at its disposal. Behind the social and political tensions there lay the religious tension which is inherent in the structure and mutual affiliations of the three religions of the West; and behind the whole complex struggle for Palestine there were the Western Powers, holding in their hands the destiny of the Near East, and therefore intimately involved (whether they knew it or not, whether they wanted it or not) in all its problems. It was Great Britain which sponsored Zionism, and made possible the growth of the Jewish community in Palestine until it was strong enough to take care of itself. It was natural, therefore, that the Arabs should see behind the Zionist danger the face of Western Imperialism: and it was natural, too, that, faced with the reality of Arab opposition, the Zionists should try to see in it the machinations of prejudices of their enemies in the West. The tragedy when it came was as great as that of the Greeks in Asia. Approximately three-quarters of the Arab population of Palestine, perhaps 900,000 out of 1,200,000, were forced to leave their homes, to be replaced by equivalent number of Jews. Only the optimist could persuade himself that the tragedy is over. On the one hand, the State of Israel and its Arab neighbours are divided from one another at every level - religion, social organization, culture, political sentiment - and so far there has emerged no common interest or conviction to bind them together. On the other hand, neither side regards the matter as closed. Israel can scarcely exist within its narrow and unnatural frontiers. For the Arab States, Palestine is still Arab territory to be some day recovered. Each side is afraid of the other and may easily take the steps which would bring upon it the dangers it fears. VII. "

But these are extreme cases. In other instances, the forces making

Figures for 1922: Jewish population 83,000; Arab population 660,000.

Race, Religion and Nation-State

13

for conflict have been counterbalanced by others which make for harmony or at least quiescence: the existence of ties of religion and tradition; the presence in some regions of a single predominant stock, with national minorities of negligible importance; the existence of a common danger, or some other form of common interest; the presence of an external power able and willing to keep peace; the need to conciliate the public opinion of the world; the strength of liberal ideas; or ordinary human feeling. Where adherents of more than one religion live together, there is bound to be a deep tension, which will continue even where they cooperate perfectly, as they can and should, in the social order; and where members of different 'nations' live together in a single State, there is also likely to be tension, though it may be less profound and lasting. But the typical national questions in the Near East today are those of a relatively small and powerless minority living in the national State of another people with a large compact majority; and the typical relationship is one which, while falling short of complete harmony, also falls short of open hostility. We shall now give examples of such situations as they exist in five Near Eastern States: IRAQ

Perhaps four-fifths of the population is Arab (roughly five out of six and a half million);17 but there are also Kurds (perhaps one million), Turks and Turcomans in some of the northern towns, and Persians in the Shi'i Holy Cities. Of the 150,000 Christians, some are Arabs or Arabized, but others in the north conserve something of their Syriac language and tradition. The Iraqi constitution of 1925 declared that there should be no differentiation in legal rights on grounds of language, race, or creed, and granted to the various communities the right to maintain schools in their own languages, subject to the general laws regarding education. On the whole, successive governments respected the principles embodied in the constitution, and recognized the existence of the Kurds as a separate element in the country. In the northern provinces where most of the Kurds live, their language could be used in local administration and the law courts; it was used also in primary schools, but - because of lack of books and technical terms - not in secondary schools. Most officials in those provinces and some in the other provinces were Kurds, and there were Kurdish ministers in every government (although often they were Arabized Kurds from Baghdad). The Kurds did not always accept the authority of the government 17

Preliminary figures for the census of 1957.

14

Α. Η. Hourani

willingly, for many reasons: because of the gradual spread of Kurdish nationalist ideas; because of the persistence of tribal loyalties and customs, making them oppose not only an Arab government but any government; and because so long as the Iraqi government was poor it tended to confine its constructive work - schools, hospitals, and roads - to the capital and surrounding districts, while the more distant provinces (and the Kurdish ones among them) were neglected. From the establishment of the Iraqi State, there were several Kurdish revolts - first under Shaikh Mahmoud, and later under Shaikh Ahmad of Barzan and his brother Mulla Mustafa; and in 1946, when under Soviet inspiration a short-lived Kurdish Republic of Mahabad was set up across the frontier in Western Persia, there was a danger of a more serious and widespread rising, but this did not take place. From the foundation of the Iraqi State, some Kurdish nationalists demanded autonomy in the provinces with a Kurdish majority, but no Iraqi government was prepared to consider this, for the whole experience of the Near East in the last century showed that autonomy was only a stepping-stone to independence. Others were content to be allowed to live as Kurds within Iraq, enjoying full use of their language and equal opportunity. The Iraqi government, both before and after the revolution of 1958, showed itself friendlier to these Kurdish aspirations than did other governments in the Near East. In the last years before the Revolution, the increased royalties coming to the government under the oil agreement of 1942 made it possible to start a process of economic development which seemed likely to benefit the Kurdish provinces as much as the rest of the country. Since the Revolution the government has given a more explicit recognition than before to the existence and rights of the Kurdish population. One of the three members of the Council of Sovereignity is a Kurd, and the new republican constitution described Arabs and Kurds as partners in the State and guaranteed the national rights of each within it. Mulla Mustafa was allowed to return from his exile in the U.S.S.R., and quickly resumed his position as national leader. In February 1960, when a number of political parties were authorized by the government, one of them was Mulla Mustafa's Democratic Party of Kurdistan. In the early 1930s there was tension between the newly independent Iraqi government and one section of the Christians, the Assyrians, and it culminated in the massacre of 1933. There were two reasons for this: first, the claim of the Assyrian Patriarch that the Assyrians should still possess, in the modern centralized State of Iraq, the civil autonomy and isolation of an Ottoman millet·, and second, the unfounded belief of both parties that Britain might back the Assyrian claims. Since then the tension has diminished; some of the Assyrians were settled across the

Race, Religion and Nation-State

15

frontier in Syria, and the rest have continued to live unmolested in Iraq, although mutual suspicion has not completely disappeared.18 LEBANON

In Lebanon the main tensions are religious and not ethnic, and the State is indeed based on the religious communities. Parliamentary seats and offices are distributed among the different confessions according to their size. But on the other hand the constitution promises absolute equality for all without distinction. Almost all members of most confessions are Arabic-speaking; but there are two religious communities which are ethnically different from the rest - the Armenian Orthodox (64,000 out of a total population of 1,400,000)19 and Armenian Catholics (15,000). Mainly refugees from Turkey after the First World War, from the beginning they were treated by the French Mandatory on a level with the other inhabitants of the country, and were able to fit into its political structure precisely because they formed a religion as well as a racial community. They have their own schools and communal organizations; four out of the ninety-nine deputies in the Chamber elected in 1960 are Armenian Orthodox, and one is Armenian Catholic. At first they were not much welcomed by the population, both because they were foreign in language and customs, and because of the inevitable economic tension, in a poor country, between a destitute immigrant population, willing to work for starvation wages, and the existing population. Tension between Armenians and Moslems in Beirut reached a danger point on at least one occasion before the war of 1939. But in the last fifteen years there has been a clear change for the better. The new generation is more fully assimilated, although it has not given up its traditions or its national loyalties, and quite a number of Armenians returned to Soviet Armenia after 1945; and, however much various sections of the population may differ about the nature and policy of the State, all agree that Lebanon can exist only as a country in which all members of all communities have full and equal citizenship. SYRIA

Here too the great majority of the population is Arab (perhaps ninety per cent of a total population of four millions). Of the religious minorities, too, the greater part are ethnically Arab (Druzes, Alawis, Ismailis, Orthodox Christians). But there are also certain ethnic minorities. Some " See S. H. Longrigg, Iraq, 1900-1950 (London, 1953); A. H. Hourani, Minorities in the Arab World (London, 1947). " Estimate for 1955.

16

A.H.Hourani

- Turcomans, Circassians, Syriac Christians - are of no great political importance, but two - the Kurds (about 200,000) and Armenians (135,000)20 have played some part in political life. Smaller in proportion to the total population than in Iraq, and without the same preponderance in any region of the country, the Kurds do not constitute a danger to the State. That many Syrians for a time thought of them as a danger was due to two reasons: first, there is a large Kurdish element in the population of the Jazirah province, which is important because it lies on the frontier and has been brought under effective government control only in the last generation; secondly, the French government during its period as Mandatary relied on the Kurds and Christians to offset the hostility of the Arab majority. Thus the Jazirah was always kept under direct French control, and the Kurdish nationalist party (the Hoybun) was encouraged. Since the French left, there have been no serious disturbances; although not dead, Kurdish nationalism is quiescent; the educational and administrative policy of the government makes for assimilation. This is, indeed, a process which has been going on for centuries. Here, as in Iraq, there are half- or wholly-Arabized Kurds, who play a large part in political life. Of the five heads of the Syrian State, between the French withdrawal and the formulation of the United Arab Republic, two (Husni Zaim and Fawzi Sillo) were of Kurdish origin. The Armenians live mainly in Aleppo. Although many are refugees of the last generation, some belong to families long settled in the town. Mainly an artisan community, industrious and intelligent, they form an integral part of the economic structure. During the French Mandate some of them were tempted to rely upon French protection; but the majority, profiting from the bitter experience of their fathers, adopted the path of political assimilation. While preserving their own faith and culture, they tried to learn Arabic and play their part as citizens. They had two deputies in Parliament until the union with Egypt, and their relations with government and majority are correct. Any too obvious manifestation of their communal spirit still arouses opposition; but the process of assimilation can be expected to go on peacefully. After 1945, several thousands were allowed to return to the Armenian Soviet Republic, but it is believed that they did not like what they found there.

UNITED ARAB REPUBLIC

The overwhelming majority in Egypt is Arabic by language and culture, and may be said to belong in some sense to the Arab 'nation', although ϊ0

Estimates for 1955.

Race, Religion and Nation-State

17

it is easy to discern differences of temperament and social organization which might justify one talking in another sense of an Egyptian nation. The only considerable ethnic minorities are to be found in the cosmopolitan trading towns - Cairo, Alexandria, and Port Said - where a mixed European and Levantine middle class (perhaps a quarter of a million out of twenty-three millions) controlled the commercial and financial life of Egypt for almost a century. They were always resented by the Egyptians because they were rich, because they were foreign, and because they enjoyed special privileges under the Capitulations. Throughout the past generation they were gradually losing their position. After 1937 they no longer had the Capitulations to protect them; and they were being squeezed out of their preserves by the growth of an indigenous Egyptian capitalism, and by the Law of 1947 which regulated the percentage of posts to be reserved for Egyptians in foreign companies. This process was carried further after the Suez crisis of 1956, when a large proportion of the Levantine community left, either under pressure or because they had no future for themselves in the new Egypt. They included many of the Jews and Lebanese Christians, and also Maltese and others who had British or French nationality.

ISRAEL

Since its establishment, the State of Israel has kept its doors open to all Jews who wish to enter it. But it has not yet defined the part which race and religion play respectively in constituting a Jew; and this is not only a theoretical question, but one with which is bound up the whole destiny of Israel.21 Coverts to Judaism have been accepted and welcomed, like the Italian village which was converted en masse and transferred to Galilee. Jewish converts to Christianity are allowed to enter, but it is sometimes difficult for them to find employment.22 Out of the total population of 2,000,000, about 220,000 are Arabs, including 47,000 Christians and 21,000 Druzes.23 The Proclamation of Independence in 1948 promised them social and political equality, and some rights have in practice been given them. They preserve their religious organizations; education is Arabic in language, although its content is carefully controlled; Arabic can be used in the law courts, in administrative affairs and in Parliament; they have the right to vote, and in the elections of 1959 seven Arab deputies were elected out of a total of 120. 21 E. Marmorstein, "Religious Opposition to Nationalism in the Middle East", in International Affairs, July, 1952. " N. Bentwich, Israel (London, 1952). *• Estimates for 1958.

18

Α. Η. Hourani

On the other hand, most of the Arab districts are still under military administration; for individual Arabs living in those areas movement is restricted, although the rules were somewhat relaxed in 1959; there have been instances of whole Arab villages being forcibly moved by the army, sometimes in defiance of the civil courts. Those Arabs who own or cultivate land have shared in the general agricultural prosperity. Health and education services have been extended, and local government encouraged. But under a series of laws beginning in 1948 and culminating in the Land Acquisition Law of 1953, it is possible for the Israeli government to confiscate land (against payment of compensation) not only from Arabs who left Israel in 1948 but from those who moved elsewhere inside Israel during the fighting and were later forbidden to return home. It has been estimated that the Arabs still in Israel lost about half their land in this way; and while some of it was used to settle new immigrants, certain collective farms took the opportunity to seize the land of their Arab neighbours.24 In the towns, few Arabs were taken into government service, and they were not given full membership in the Histadruth, the labour federation which controlled a large sector of the economy. In 1959, however, they were finally admitted as full members. VIII. The Near East is now divided into nation-States. The process cannot be reversed; and even if it could, we should have to balance against the sufferings it has caused, the benefits it has conferred. In more than one of the States, citizens with a new sense of self-confidence and responsibility are learning how to work together, and are trying to develop their human and material resources. But to what purpose? From national existence to national aggrandizement is not a necessary path to take, but it is an easy one; and it can scarcely be avoided if the nation sets itself up as the final object of worship.25 A nation-State can be healthy only if its citizens are conscious of some loyalty beyond that to the State, and of some realms in which their belonging to a certain nation is of no account. To make this statement is to become aware of the most grave and urgent questions of political philosophy - questions which could be answered only by a systematical investigation of the nature and purpose of Man in Society. Can there be a universal community, transcending the bounds of the national State, unless there is a bond between its members more lasting and stable than that of opposition to an external danger - either a positive common interest or, at some level, an identity of political principle? Can such a community survive unless the smaller communities which compose it treat one another on a footing of equality? Is it 34 26

Walter Schwarz, The Arabs in Israel (London, 1959), p. 102. E. Marmorstein, "The Fate of Arabdom", in International Affairs, October, 1949.

Race, Religion and Nation-State

19

possible in these days to preserve a sphere - of thought even more than of action - in which the government cannot impose uniformity upon its subjects? Inside that sphere, how can the individual preserve the true inner freedom of not regarding himself as determined by only one of his characteristics?

Μ. Berger SOCIAL GROUPS: ECONOMIC, RELIGIOUS A N D NATIONAL

Morroe Berger divides social groups into economic, religious and national. He uses the term Near East which has been generally superseded since the Second World War by the term Middle East, following the name for the British military command area established during the war. His chapter is illuminating in that he defines the major groupings to which the inhabitants belong as well as the less known sub-groupings within the broad categories. His population figures, however, are to be interpreted as approximations. His analysis stresses properly the shift in emphasis from religious and family groupings to economic and national ones in accordance with the increasing urbanization and secularization which the area is undergoing. He cites the changing character of the social distance between university students as evidence of this trend. If it is remembered that university students are probably not a representative sample of the population, this is fair enough. At any rate they will be the leaders of future public opinion such as it is. The position of ethnic and religious minorities is discussed. Generally they are subordinate and limited in their cultural participation except in Lebanon where everyone is a member of a minority. The dominant groups in the region are Arab Sunni Muslim to which Shiite Muslims, Druzes, Jews, Christians of various sects and Kurds must accommodate and have accommodated. Since the establishment of Israel the Jews have become a vanishing minority. The Kurds are a group or groups much in need of further study. Except in Lebanon the constitutions of the states define their * Morroe Berger, The Arab World Today (Doubleday & Co. Inc., Garden City, New York, 1962), pp. 252-284. Mr. Berger is director of the program of Near Eastern Studies at Princeton and the author of Bureaucracy and Society in Modern Egypt (1957).

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

21

countries as Islamic. Unlike in the west the term nation has a special and somewhat vague meaning. An Arab referring to the Arab nation is thinking of a projected unified Arab world (the unity being variously defined) and not a present sovereign state. Mr. Berger also attempts an analysis of the changes in class status which are occurring with varying speeds in the area. New class alignments are emerging from the past with special emphasis on the rising middle class, particularly its managerial elements. To the world outside, the Near East appears to be a homogeneous culture, Islamic in religion, Arab in nationality, agricultural and poor economically. This popular impression is far from the truth about an area that includes Israel, Iran, and Turkey. It is closer to the truth if we speak only of the Arab core we are treating in this book: Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, Jordan, and Iraq. Yet even in this limited area there are many group loyalties and class differences. There are, first, as in other societies, the poor and the rich and the groups between them, as well as the peasants and large landowners, workers and employers, laborers and professionals, and so on. And beyond these economic and occupational divisions are others which sometimes coincide with them but more often produce additional differences among groups, in religion, nationality, and language. These differences have emerged during the long and varied history of the area, with the rise of several religions and sects within each, the growth of nations and their mixture. Each sweep of religion or nationality has left corners in which groups formed earlier have survived to this day. These two types of division, one according to wealth and economic function, the other according to religion or nationality, have co-existed in the Arab world for centuries. Traditionally, the second has been the main mark of distinction - a man was known as a Moslem or Christian or Jew, and later as an Arab, Turk, Armenian, or European. Distinctions of wealth and occupation were likewise important, of course, but primarily within each religious, national, or racial community. Such socio-economic differences were traditionally not made between, say, a Moslem and a Christian. Occupation and religion, however, often went together. In Egypt the Christian Copts were numerous in the civil service, and almost everywhere Jews were prominent in trade and finance. But although an economic calling might be dominated by a certain ethnic or religious group, that group was by no means engaged only in that calling. In other words, the ethnic or religious group has been more inclusive than the occupational or economic. In recent decades, the growth of modern industry, nationalism, and secularism have given greater importance to distinctions based on wealth and occupation and the Arab world has taken on a type of social stratification more nearly like the general type

22

Μ. Berger

prevailing in Europe and America. But the persistence of the older type of ethnic-religious distinction has produced a crisscrossing of social differences and prestige rankings that within even a single Arab nationstate cannot be fully encompassed within the terms of the conception of social class as it has applied to the industrial, secular society of the West. To understand the Arab world today we must take account of these socio-economic, ethnic-religious differences, for these groups into which an Arab is born influence his behavior and ideas no less than does the family. They exert varying degrees of power in the Arab world, and the relations between them are changing rapidly.

ETHNIC AND RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES

The main distinction among the people of the Near East is that of religion. Islam, Christianity and Judaism define the major communities and their cultures.1 Islam was intended for Arabs; the Arab Moslems did not distinguish between their religion and their nationality. This unity of what we now call religion and nationality has persisted among Arab Moslems to this day. A former president of the American University of Beirut has reported that students asked to give their nationality on the registration card would usually write Moslem rather than Syrian, Palestinian, and so on.2 Islam not only came first to Arabs, it was the structure within which the Arabs were unified. In several places in the Koran 3 Moslems are enjoined to ignore sexual, national, tribal, and other differences among themselves, for all are united in a single community embracing all such loyalties which were now distinguished. But Islam did not absorb all the religious and tribal-national groups it met as it expanded, nor did it succeed in remaining united within itself. The result is that there are Moslem and non-Moslem communities, and differences within the Moslem community, the most important of which is between the Sunnites and Shi'ites. The Sunnites are the Moslems who stress their adherence to the path (surma) of the Prophet; they constitute 1

There are, of course, differences in physical appearance. We shall not consider these in detail because they do not seriously affect social relations among the Arabs today. Moreover, the physical types are so mixed that no precise, consistent, and socially relevant ones can be established. Roughly, the single most numerous group would be what is called the Mediterranean 'race* which (contrasted with the most numerous of Northern Europeans and North Americans) is dark in complexion, with dark and wavy hair, of short and slight build. Egypt has a large proportion who are African Negroid. 2 Penrose, p. 131. 3 See especially ch. 49, verses lOff.

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

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24

Μ. Berger

the majority and are known as the orthodox group. The Shi'ites, whose greatest strength in the Arab world today is in Iraq, are the adherents of the party (shi'a) of Ali, the son-in-law of the Prophet; they believe that Ali should have become caliph after the Prophet's death. Though it arose in dissent on the question of succession, Shi'ism later became a religious opposition to orthodoxy and then attracted the non-Arab minorities among the Moslems who had social grievances against the ruling Sunnites. The preceding table gives the approximate number and proportions of the most important ethnic minority groups, taking the Arabic-speaking Moslem group as the majority. As the table shows, the chief religious and national minorities constitute about an eighth of the population of the Arab world. Christians alone are almost a tenth. Kurds, a group of Moslems with their own language and separate national traditions, are found in the Arab countries of Iraq and Syria (as well as in Iran and Turkey). The Jews formerly numbered about a quarter of a million but emigration since the establishment of the state of Israel in 1948 and the Sinai war of 1956 has reduced them to about 30,500. Religious differences produce other differences that take on a national aspect. Just as Moslems in the Near East see themselves as a nation of Arabs, so the Christians feel less a part of that nation and are less enthusiastic about plans to create a single nation-state in the Arab world. The Egyptian Copts consider themselves more Egyptian than Arab and are thus in two senses, religious and national, removed from the Arab Moslem community. The Christians in Syria, especially the largest group of them, the Greek Orthodox, are closer to the Arab majority in national feeling. The largest Christian community in Lebanon, however, the Maronites (an autonomous group affiliated with Roman Catholicism), have a very strong sense of Lebanese nationality which they like to trace back to the pre-Arab Phoenician culture of that area. The curiously conducted civil war in 1958 revealed the depth of Christian Lebanese suspicion of even unspoken or implied schemes for Arab unity that might threaten the continued separate identity of Lebanon as a state. In Lebanon, as in Egypt, the Christian community lives in all parts of the country (but least in the South). Also, in both countries and in Syria as well, the Christians enjoy a higher educational and economic level, although this gap is not so great in Lebanon. In Jordan the only considerable minority is the Christian one, living mainly in and near Jerusalem and the Holy Places; here, too, Christians enjoy a higher standard of living than the country as a whole. In Iraq the situation is different, for there we find the only important minority question within the Moslem community as well as the largest national minority, the Kurds. There are only a few Christians, the largest

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

25

concentration of them being in the northern district of Mosul; most of them are better educated and enjoy a higher standard of living than the average Iraqi, and they work in services and trades and industries connected with Western interests of all kinds. The Jews, of whom there were about 130,000 before their large-scale emigration (mainly to Israel) in 1950-1952, were nearly as numerous as the Christians and enjoyed even higher living standards; they were prominent in commerce, banking, and the crafts. The small number of Christians and Jews today, 150,000 and 5000 respectively, accentuates Iraq's two main minority issues: the Moslem difference between Sunnites and Shi'ites and the Kurdish national question. It is generally conceded that the Shi'ites slightly outnumber the Sunnites in Iraq, a reversal of the situation elsewhere in the Arab world. But the Sunnites hold the major positions in the government and the economy. Largely agricultural, the Shi'ites live along the banks of the two rivers, the Tigris and Euphrates, in the central and southern districts. The Sunnites are less concentrated geographically and occupationally. Controlling the main sources of power, they also have had more sympathy than the Shi'ites with the rest of the Arab world. The Kurds are a Moslem (largely Sunnite) group speaking an IndoEuropean language and divided among several countries bordering on one another. In Iraq there are more than a million of them, constituting almost a sixth of the total population. Concentrated in the northern and northeastern districts (bordering on Iranian districts also heavily Kurdish), they have been rapidly emerging from a tribal form of life in the mountains and have moved into the plains and cities. Their growing nationalistic feelings, encouraged by the Soviet Union rulers, were more lenient than the Christian Byzantines they displaced. A Christian or Jew was early considered a dhimmi, a protected person who had to pay higher taxes and endure certain inequalities but who was permitted to practice his religion freely; indeed, the Christians and Jews were allowed to regulate their own religious and personal affairs. Traditionally this policy is reported to be based upon the Koran® which calls upon Moslems to "make war" upon those who have received the Scriptures but do not accept Islam, "until they pay tribute out of hand, and they be humbled". Lewis sums up their status in this way: The Dhimmis were second-class citizens, paying a higher rate of taxation, suffering from certain social disabilites, and on a few rare occasions subjected to open persecution. But by and large their position was infinitely superior to that of those communities who differed from the established church in Western Europe in the same period. They enjoyed the free exercise of their religion, normal property rights, and were very frequently employed in the service • Ch. 9, verse 30.

Μ. Berger

26

of the State, often in the highest offices. They were admitted to the craft guilds, in some of which they actually predominated. They were never called upon to suffer martyrdom or exile for their beliefs.10 As Lewis also remarks, tolerance was not equality. The status of the Christians and Jews differed from time to time and place to place as laws were enforced or ignored in turn. They were required to assume certain dress, ride certain animals only in certain ways and sometimes not at all, and to mark their houses in a special way.11 Though allowed to retain their own beliefs and practices, this very freedom served to make them conspicuous as non-Moslems in a Moslem world which had absorbed and converted the pagans - they became the recalcitrant unbelievers in a world of believers. Under the Ottoman Empire the autonomy of the religious minorities took the form of millets, each conducting its own communal affairs and regulating the personal status of its members. As Gibb and Bowen observe,12 because religion was the unifying feature of the empire, the various millets were "condemned ... to exclusion from effective incorporation in the Ottoman structure of society ...". So pervasive was the Moslem feeling of tolerant separation from non-Moslems that the Ottomans granted even to European Christians certain personal, commercial, and religious rights, and a degree of autonomy on Ottoman territory. These rights, beginning in the sixteenth century, were known as the Capitulations and, far from being wrung from the Ottomans by superior Western powers, were offered to the foreign non-Moslems as virtually an extension of the Moslem policy toward the dhimmis who were Ottoman subjects. The persistence of these religious-national minorities in the Arab Moslem world is the result not only of the early attitude toward the "people of the Book" and of the Ottoman millet system but also of other influences which Albert Hourani, a leading British historian of the Arab world, has mentioned.13 First, tribal and national differences were reinforced by religious differences, as has happened among the Druzes, a small Moslem sect in Lebanon, Syria and Israel which has doctrinally wandered far from orthodoxy. Second, differences of religion, language, and custom were perpetuated through the social isolation of community from community in the centuries preceding the introduction of modern means of communication, and through the geographical isolation resulting from a vast and difficult terrain of mountains and deserts. Finally, partly because of these difficulties of communication, governments had little 10 11 12 13

Lewis, The Arabs in History, p. 94. See, for example, Strauss, passim. Gibb and Bowen, Part II, pp. 78-79. Hourani, Minorities in the Arab World, pp. 15-21.

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

27

control outside the towns and the plains and even there ignored many spheres of life. As a result, local cultures could grow, flourish and, when threatened, withdraw into the less accessible areas where they easily preserved their own character. Within the Ottoman Empire local dynasties and feudatories were thus able to maintain themselves. In recent years the tides of nationalism throughout the world have affected the way in which minority groups in the Near East look at each other and themselves. Not only has national feeling become a greater divider of peoples than religion, but even the religious differences that remain are being expressed increasingly in secular, national terms. Arab nationalism itself is a prime example of this tendency; behind its secular appearance there is still much religious fervor among the millions of Moslems who feel their Arabism without making speeches about it which get into the Western press. Evidence of the change of emphasis, among the articulate Arabs at least, appears in a study of 'social distance' made by the psychologists Prothro and Melikian14 in 1951. They repeated an earlier questionnaire given to students at the American University of Beirut in 1935 and compared the two sets of results. The questions were designed to elicit the respondents' degree of 'social distance' from other Arabs and several Western nations, as well as from other main religious groups and minor sects in the area. The 130 students - the large majority males between 17 and 22 years of age, about half of them Christians and half Moslems were given a list of nations and religions and were asked to state which of the following intentions represented their attitudes toward each group: (1) willing to marry one of that group; (2) willing to have one as a guest for a meal; (3) prefer only as an acquaintance; (4) do not enjoy companionship; (5) wish someone would kill the members of the group. Responses to such questionnaries tend to follow political events, so it must be recalled that this one was given a few years after the creation of the state of Israel (which Arabs attributed to Western policy) but before the Egyptian revolution which brought Nasser to prominence and before the Anglo-French-Israeli attack upon Egypt in 1956 and the Iraqi revolution of 1958. The most general finding relevant here is that in 1951 the distances based on national differences were greater than those based on religious differences. In 1935, exactly the opposite had been found. Though the Moslem students expressed greater national feeling than the Christians (whose Arab sentiment is complicated by their Western loyalties), their attitude toward Christians improved from the first to the second study. Toward Jews it worsened; but this was not a purely religious affair since it followed the establishment of a Jewish NATIONAL state in Israel. Zionism has stimulated in the Arab world a certain amount of "

Prothro and Melikian, "Social Distance ...", p. 7.

Μ. Berger

28

anti-Semitism of the classical type to be found in Europe. Islam hardly knew this social doctrine despite its opposition to Judaism on religious grounds from the very moment the Jews resisted conversion by Muhammad and his successors. As Dr. Sylvia Haim, a keen student of Arab Moslem contemporary thought, points out, 15 anti-Semitism was a Western importation through the Westernized Arab communities: "The flow of antisemitic doctrine from Europe did not originate in one country nor was it confined to a single decade. In the nineteenth century it emanated from France at the time of the Dreyfus Affair and, for obvious reasons, the Eastern [Orthodox] Christians became the agents through whom the doctrine was propagated". With the exacerbation of ArabJewish relations on the Palestine question, Nazi propaganda flooded the Near East and found a large audience willing to listen to it, and a few influential Moslems willing to learn the technique. Since the creation of the state of Israel in 1948, anti-Semitic propaganda has not needed to be imported from Europe; 'Westernization' has made the Near East selfsufficient in this as in some other kinds of production. Yet it is significant that the wave of swastika-painting on synagogue walls in Europe and America in 1959-1960 did not spread to the Arab world, except to Beirut, the Arab city with the highest proportion of Christians. While hostility between different religions as religions probably has declined, hostility between different branches of the same broad religious group seems to have continued unabated. Among the Moslems, SunniteShi'ite hostility increased from the earlier to the later study; indeed, in the later one the Sunnites expressed greater hostility toward Shi'ites than toward several Christian denominations. This, too, may have reflected only growing national feeling within the Arab world, for Shi'ites are usually assumed by Sunnites to be either Iraqis, or not Arabs but Iranians. The later study also gives additional evidence of an interesting phenomenon : the frequently greater enmity between two related groups having the same goal but advocating different means than between two groups seeking different goals entirely. Thus only one of forty-nine Moslems stated that he wished someone would kill all Maronite (Catholic) Christians but five of fifty-four Christians expressed this intense hostility toward Maronites. Nationalism is a sentiment that reduces differences among those who share it but magnifies the contrasts between those who adhere to varying national groups. Because of the numerous ethnic groups in the Arab world, nationalism there has had a unsettling effect. Although it has been a unifying sentiment, it has also presented the groups who find Arab 16

Haim, "Arabic Antisemitic Literature".

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

29

nationalism uncongenial with a different choice: to 'become' as Arab as possible or to refuse and thus incur hostility from the majority. In the loose social structure of the past, the minorities were able to retain their identity with greater ease and at less social cost than they can now with the advent of a nationalist spirit which demands positive loyalty and homogeneity rather than mere separation and tribute. Though it is now easier for anyone in a minority group to 'become' an Arab, it is worse for those who do not. As European power has waned in the Near East, minorities have found it increasingly difficult to retain their communal identity. The Jews, as we have seen, have emigrated almost entirely from Iraq and Egypt (as well as Yemen), where they were most numerous. Many Christians of European descent have also emigrated, some have become citizens of the Arab states in which they live but continue to live as Europeans, and the remaining ones find themselves more and more alienated from the life around them. The Christian Arabs (including the Egyptian Copts) have, on the whole, adopted or adjusted to Arab nationalism but with less enthusiasm for a single Arab nation-state in which Moslems would be even more predominant than in the individual ones. Two developments since World War II have impelled the Christians in this direction. First, the decline of Western influence left them without a 'protector' and hence forced them to seek accommodation to the Arab Moslem majority. Second, the rise of the Palestine question stimulated Arab nationalism and became a test of loyalty for the Christians. On both counts, they found it easier and safer to identify themselves with the growing nationalist trend, for, after all, culturally and linguistically they have a great deal in common with other Arabs despite the great difference in religion. As for the Kurds, the largest national-linguistic minority, their traditional weakness - the fact that they are divided among four countries - has recently been intensified by the modernization of national states in the area, which has made the governmental apparatus more efficient in controlling minority activity. The Kurds have stoutly preserved their differences, cultural and ideological, and show few signs of willingness to be absorbed in the nationalism within or among the Arab states. So far as the ethnic minorities are concerned, Arab nationalism has thus far unsettled their status without producing, except to some extent for Christians with a long Arab heritage, a compensating degree of unity or an accommodation based upon closer association rather than, as in the past, upon separation. The result is that group relations are not friendly relations. The study by Prothro and Melikian, referred to above, reveals that 'social distance' among national and religious groups in the Near East is greater than in the United States, according to similar studies made here. Yet there is a curious absence of public discussion of the minorities. Arabs themselves do not write books, scholars do not con-

30

Μ. Berger

duct research, and the newspapers and radio do not dwell on the problems of the ethnic and religious groups themselves, or their relations with the majority community. There is plenty of private conversation on these questions, but they are not great issues debated in legislatures or presented to the public by other means. One explanation may be that the various communities are so distinct and segregated that there is no basis for a national airing of issues between them. One has the feeling that public discussion, with its inevitable disagreements brought into open, would only exacerbate differences and stimulate violence. There is as yet not enough common ground or communal discipline or social machinery to permit a public dialogue that might smooth out rather than sharpen the edges of contact between minorities and majority.

SOCIAL CLASSES

Ethnic-religious differences, we have seen, are declining as some minorities virtually disappear through emigration or absorption into the majority community. But as modern industry grows, urbanization increases, and communication becomes easier, other types of social distinctions which formerly overlapped with or were obscured by the ethnic differences have begun to emerge more clearly and to assume independent significance. These are the social classes or strata based on occupation, income and power. We call these distinct groups strata because they occupy, so to speak, different social layers in a vertical column, constituting a hierarchy from lowest to highest. Ethnic-religious distinctions also yield a hierarchy to a certain extent but not so satisfactorily, for they are highly subjective and less measurable. First, an ethnic or religious minority usually feels itself no lower than the majority and may even consider itself superior. The majority group takes the same view regarding itself. Moreover, where ethnic-religious differences do produce genuine strata, they do so in conjunction with differences of economic function and wealth. Social class differences, however, are less subjective and more easily measured for they are based on income and degree of social power; they are also based on occupational prestige, which in turn is partly derived from measurable differences of income and power. Finally, although in the Arab world most ethnic-religious groups do not admit the superiority or greater prestige of others, the social classes do admit the differences in prestige among themselves even to their own social detriment. Traditionally a European Christian would consider himself superior to a Moslem while a Moslem would have contempt for this franji (foreigner, from 'Frank' or 'European') who was outside the circle of believers who alone have status in the world of Islam. But a peasant

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

31

accepts the fact that he is socially inferior to a landlord, merchant, or government clerk. An Arab laborer, for example, may resent the social class he is in and may seek to increase the power of the class itself simply to rise into a higher one, but he is not likely to deny the fact of its low status. It is easy to see that in the Arab world there are the rich and the poor. As elsewhere, the rich own the means of production and land, enjoy the occupations that are usually regarded as most desirable, have greater political power, are better educated and more articulate on public affairs. The poor, of course, do not own productive wealth or much land, are usually in occupations with little prestige, have less political power (as individuals, though not always as a class), are less educated and less articulate on public affairs. Apart from the paucity of studies, we face a serious difficulty when we try to go beyond these broad differences which apply everywhere and to specify in detail the various social strata in the Arab world. There is a confusion of criteria resulting from the interplay of the two sets of distinctions we have been discussing, ethnic-religious group and social class. The vast gulf separating the European from the Arab, the Christian or Jew from the Moslem, has created virtually independent communities with little social intercourse between them. It is therefore hazardous to compare economic positions across ethnicreligious boundaries, since this would mean trying to put on a single scale two elements that in social life are judged in different terms and without reference to one another. As we have already seen, these separate social orders traditionally overlapped very little in economic life. At least in the urban areas it was the minorities, for example, who were in trade, banking and in the skilled crafts involving modern machinery. How, therefore, could one determine the relative social positions of a Christian insurance company owner and a judge in a Moslem court? Both enjoyed high status but in completely different worlds. It is true that vestiges of earlier forms of social distinction still persist in most industrial countries too, but not to the extent that we find in the Arab world, which is only beginning to industrialize and in which only very recently there were still separate religious-national communities with autonomy grounded in law as well as in custom. Though the Arab world is moving toward a system of social classes resembling that of the West, the process has only begun. Another difficulty confronting us is that industrialization in the Arab world is proceeding with greater participation by the state, so that we do not find there, to the same degree as in the West in a comparable era, the emergence of an independent middle class based upon manufacturing and commercial interests. Rather, the functions performed by such a middle class in the West are more likely to be carried out in the Arab world by

32

Μ. Berger

technicians employed in government and business offices. Finally, the political changes in recent years affect the status of certain callings but it is difficult to know how enduring these changes will be. The advent of military regimes raises the prestige and power of the army leaders. Their attacks on the corruption of the regimes they displaced tends to lower the prestige of the civilian bureaucracy, but the accompanying enhancement of the state's role in industrialization, land reform, and so on certainly increases its power and perhaps its prestige as well. With these limitations in mind, we may propose the following hierarchy of social classes in the Arab world today, going from highest to lowest in status, wealth, power, and occupational prestige: (1) Big landowners, bankers, industrialists, and highest governmental and military leaders. (2) Higher civil servants and army officers, independent professionals (doctors, lawyers, engineers, etc.), higher intellectuals, religious leaders. (3) Lower professions (teachers, journalists, pharmacists, etc.), whitecollar workers in government and private enterprise. (4) Shopkeepers, skilled workers, artisans. (5) Peasants, laborers, service workers. Two things are worth noting about this hierarchy. First, it has an urban bias in the sense that it distinguishes more among urban occupations than among rural. This is inevitable because rural society is less differentiated in occupation and social class; the vast majority live off the land and socio-economic status depends on the size of one's holdings and one's family, clan or tribal background. Second, it leans toward the kind of class system that is emerging, that is, one based more on occupation and income than on those ethnic-religious factors that, influential as they undoubtedly remain, are both declining in relevance and difficult to encompass without introducing so many gradations and qualifications as to make the list of classes unwieldy if not incomprehensible. Though we have adapted to the Arab world concepts of social class based upon Western industrial society, we must be careful not to apply them indiscriminately. The relative positions of the classes in the Arab world differ; moreover, we may call the classes there by the same names we use to designate classes in the West, but it does not therefore follow that the values and attitudes and capacities of the classes similarly called are identical. The important differences are, of course, in the relative size of each class and the degree of influence each exerts on the society. The agricultural class in the Arab world is far more numerous, proportionally, than in the West, and is weaker politically; in addition, with only a few exceptions, it is a landless class or one with very small holdings permitting only a meager existence at or below the level needed to sustain life.

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

33

The working class is likewise weak but not numerous, for modern industry employs only a very small proportion of the labor force. A great many artisans in the Near East cannot be included in the working class because they really work outside the structure and style of modern industry, while in income, outlook, and loyalties - all of which still owe something to the remains of the once powerful guilds - they belong more with the urban lower middle class. The workers are organized into a few trade unions but these are largely under state control. Indeed, the Arab countries in this respect have followed the pattern of Latin America, which they resemble more in social structure than the West. With a large peasant class, a small middle and working class, and until recently, a foreign community controlling most of the capital invested in industry and commerce, the Arab countries have encouraged trade unions and adopted protective labor legislation as a nationalist weapon to reduce the power of foreign investors and governments in the area. To cultivate new elements of political support. Arab governments have encouraged trade unions while retaining close control over them and using them in the struggle against older combinations of power. Thus it was the strike action of several important unions in 1954 that enabled Nasser, with the support of most of the army leadership, to remove Naguib from power and thereby to prevent the revival of the old political parties in Egypt. The workers have not been able to achieve such goals on their own strength but only through the support of the state apparatus. The social classes formerly in control of affairs have lost much of their power with the advent of military regimes owing no allegiance to older classes. These are the large landowners and their allies among the professional politicians, lawyers, newspaper owners and some writers, and a few industrial leaders. Another group traditionally very powerful, the religious leaders or 'ulama (literally, 'the learned ones'), have likewise lost influence with the growth of secularism and the nationalist goal of economic and military power. They began to lose power decades ago throughout the Moslem Near East. In Turkey and Iran in the 1920s, Kemal Ataturk and Reza Shah were able to defeat them early. In the Arab countries the 'ulama have either withdrawn quietly from the direct or implied challenge of secularism or have been simply ignored or converted into apologists for the new order. Without a central, unified organization and no longer in control of important state functions, they have been unable to overcome the weakness resulting from the absence of a genuine hierarchy in Islam or even within a single country. THE MIDDLE CLASS

The middle class in Western society has been especially important because

34

Μ. Berger

of its role in industrialization and the development of democratic institutions. In the Arab world the middle class is small and even less independent today than it was a few years ago before the shift toward military republicanism. The professional classes, especially lawyers and journalists, traditionally provided nationalist leadership just below the top level. As Arab parliamentary institutions grew under Western influence between the late nineteenth century and World War II, the professional class supplied the people to occupy the political posts along with the landowners and the big merchants in the major cities. With the growth of industry, political power was also shared with the few large capitalists. The civil service, meanwhile, constituted all along a substantial middle group. As military regimes have spread through the Arab world, with their emphasis on state regulation of and participation in economic affairs, the position of the independent middle class has not improved. Instead, it is the employed middle class that has grown - a class of technicians, administrators, and clerks employed by government and private industry and commerce. However, the prestige of professionals seems to be rising in the Arab world as elsewhere. Traditionally, Islamic society has revered the man learned in religion, but this reverence appears to be shifting to secular learning. It is the middle class that has thus far profited most from the rapid growth of state-supported education. Ammar has shown16 that in Egypt in the early 1940s the children of middle-class fathers constituted a much higher proportion of pupils in the public schools than that class did in the total working population. A decade later another study, this one of girls in the Alexandria secondary schools, showed a similar middleclass predominance. As for prestige, in the same study ninety girls were asked the occupation they preferred for the men they hoped to marry. A majority selected engineer, and doctor, teacher, lawyer, and merchant followed in that order. 17 A similarly high rating for the independent professions was expressed by higher civil servants in a study made by this writer in 1954.18 Asked to rank ten given occupations, the 249 replies yielded the following order: doctor, bank director, lawyer, factory owner, landowner, government bureau chief, government clerk, small merchant, factory worker, peasant. Since industrialization in the West has been associated with the rise of an independent middle class, the question arises whether such a class can play the same role in the industrialization of the Near East. It can " Hamed Ammar, "An Enquiry into Educational Opportunities in Egypt". Unpublished M.A. thesis, University of London (1949), table 21, p. 174. " Mito, p. 37. 18 Berger, Bureaucracy and Society in Modern Egypt, table 29, p. 99.

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

35

be said that this is unlikely to be the case in the Arab world. These middle groups are, nevertheless, important enough to warrant further analysis as to their composition and role in Arab society. The idea of socio-economic class can be a very simple one. Aristotle remarked that, "In every city the people are divided into three sorts: the very rich, the very poor, and those who are between them". This classification illustrates the elusive quality of the middle class: a residue after we easily identify the rich and poor. With the development of trade and manufacture, the criterion of function was systematically added to that of wealth, so that middle class came to mean not only middling income, but also the group managing an economy's exchange and manufacture. Later the criteria of status (or prestige) and socio-economic power were also added, giving us four bases for the ascription of class position of any kind. The triumph of the industrial system in Western society brought with it vast social changes and the loosening of class positions. During the rise of capitalist enterprise urban merchants and manufacturers, formerly occupying a middle-class position in terms of income, status, function, and power, moved into the upper class when their incomes became large enough to enable them to adopt at least the outward aspects of upperclass life. Such movement was made possible by (and further stimulated) the eradication of feudal and other privilege embodied in law, by changes in standards of behavior, and by the advent of new social values. The upshot was to raise the middle-class capitalist to the level of the upper classes. Yet we still speak, often, of the large-scale entrepreneurs as middle class or 'bourgeois'. This is, in most parts of Western society, merely an anachronism of linguistic usage, for since the latter part of the nineteenth century the entrepreneurs, managers and merchants in largescale enterprises can hardly be called middle class from any modern point of view. The situation in the Arab world is somewhat different. There the changes we have just summarized are only beginning to appear, so that, in most cases, the merchant and the manufacturer (perhaps we ought to say, the artisan) still occupy a middling position in terms of status, function, power, and income. I put income last because it is in this respect that changes are occurring. As happened in Western society in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, the first break in middle-class position in the Near East has been in income. Many merchants and industrialists have the income commensurate with upper-class position but not the power or prestige. We take the middle class, then, to encompass :(1) those self-employed merchants and small manufacturers whose income and influence are not great enough to place them among the really powerful men in

36

Μ. Berger

political or economic life; and (2) a more mixed group including such independent professionals as doctors and lawyers; employed managers, technicians, and adminstrative workers such as clerks and bureau chiefs; and the civil service. If we seek so simple a figure as the size of the middle class in the Arab world, we run into the problems posed by the lack of data. Only Egypt among the Arab states conducts a regular census and even it has serious limitations, as we shall see. Table 2 shows the composition and size of the urban middle class in Egypt in 1947, the latest census-year for which the results are available. As we define it, the Egyptian middle class in 1947 numbered only about half a million persons, or about 6 per cent of the total gainfully employed population. Even if all possible miscalculations owing to errors in the original census data or to faulty interpretation are in the direction of an underestimation (which is not likely), the middle class in Egypt in 1947 could not have constituted more than 10 per cent of the gainfully occupied population. Information for 1957-1958 confirms this analysis. A sample survey by the government, summarized in the following table, showed that middle-class occupations, not including small owners, constituted 6.1 per cent of the total labor force. This proportion, moreover, is undoubtedly larger than is the case in the other Arab countries (with the exception of Lebanon) where industry and commerce are less developed than in Egypt. Let us compare this proportion to the comparable one for the West, where about one third to two fifths of the labor force is in urban middle-class occupations. I am not implying, of course, that Egypt and the West are justly comparable in this respect; my purpose is only to show the far greater numerical strength in an industrial, urban society. Even in the West, there are observers who say the middle class is weak, unorganized and with little economic power. Whether or not we agree with this view of the middle class in the United States or other Western societies, certainly the middle class in the Arab world shows little economic influence in view of its numerical weakness and the large proportion in it of 'merchants', mainly owners of small shops, and technicians, administrators, and clerks in private and government offices. It is, however, stronger politically. In the West the political strength of the middle class, at least on election day, is proportionate to its numbers. In the Arab world the political influence of the middle groups takes another form. They are literate and articulate. The leaders who emerge from this class, however, do not act especially in ITS interests but usually in those of a combination of the wealthiest urban and rural groups, or an aristocracy (where one exists) in league with other upper-class groups, or a military class that exercises control. It is true that leftist politicians, whose

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

37

TABLE 2 Urban Middle Class in Egypt,

194719

Per cent of all Middle Class

Per cent of total population gainfully occupied80

Occupation

Number

Merchants Chief clerks and agents Professionals21 Businessmen and clerks

254,388

51

3.00

127,876 94,339

26 19

1.51 1.11

2,561

4

.27

Total

499,164

100

5.89

SOURCE: Egyptian Government, Ministry of Finance and Economy, Statistical Department, Statistical Pocket Year-book, 1952 (Government Press, Cairo), table 12, pp. 24-29.

19

We omit the agricultural middle class, however defined, as not sufficiently relevant as yet to our present interest in the middle class. If we define this rural middle class as the owners of holdings between 5 and 30 feddans (a feddan is slightly larger than an acre), then there were only 134,562 in this class in 1947, constituting 5 per cent of the 2,662,800 owners of holdings of all sizes (see Ripublique d'ltgypte, Departement de la Statistique et du Recensement, Annuaire statistique 1949-1950 et 1950-1951 [Imprimerie Nationale, Cairo, 1953], ch. X, table II, pp. 352-353). In 1952, on the eve of the land reform, there were 139,200 such holders, again constituting 5 per cent of all 2,802,000 landowners (see Republic of Egypt, Ministry of Finance and Economy, Statistical Department, Statistical Pocket Year-book, 1953 [Government Press, Cairo, 1954], table 24, p. 33). In neither case would the addition of this agricultural group to the urban middle class in the table significantly alter the low proportion of the middle class to the total population gainfully employed. Nor does the agrarian reform since 1952 affect our point much either, since the holders who benefit from it are precluded, after the redistribution, from owning more than 5 feddans. 80 The figure used to calculate this percentage is 8,479,503 as the total number of persons gainfully occupied. The census data, however, give as this total 14,155,168 (see source indicated below, table 11, p. 23). We prefer not to use this larger figure because it is based in part on what is apparently a mere redefinition of two occupational categories for women, rather than upon actual changes in the Egyptian economy between the two census years 1937 and 1947. Our use of the lower figure yields a higher proportion in the middle class but it is nevertheless a more accurate indication of its relative size. S1 Includes actors, doctors, chemists and pharmacists, school administrators, professors, teachers, authors and editors, lawyers, engineers.

38

Μ. Berger TABLE 3

Urban Middle Class Occupations in Egypt, 1957 Occupation

Number of persons

Per cent of labor force

Professional and technical Managerial Clerical

171,000 65,000 193,000

2.4 0.9 2.8

Total

429,000

6.1

SOURCE: National Bank of Egypt, "Statistics of Labor Force in the Southern Region" Economic Bulletin (1960), 13, 89, table III.

influence has grown considerably in recent years, tend to come from the educated middle classes, but their power derives not from this fact but from their appeal to the depressed masses and their association with the wealth, prestige, and power of the Soviet Union. Level of education, by itself, has been a useful guide to class position in the Near East. A secondary school graduate, for example, who was likely to become a clerk in the civil service or a private firm, could be considered middle class despite his low income. But with the rapid expansion of compulsory primary education in the last decade, it is possible that middle class status is no longer automatically assumed by secondary school graduates but that it now takes a university degree to confer that position. Emphasis on formal education as a means of social mobility has set up strong expectations in Near Eastern society that a certificate or diploma entitles one to prestige and a certain kind of employment. In a largely rural-agricultural economy, however, outlets for such a class have been too few. In response to this and other pressures, governments have been willing to swell the ranks of the civil service, fearing to increase the already large number of unemployed, educated, and articulate young men. Table 2 above shows that about half of the urban middle class in Egypt are merchants, that is, small retailers who employ few people outside the members of their own families. Another quarter are clerical workers. The middle class in the Arab world is thus largely a self-employed or an employed class and is less an EMPLOYING class than its Western counterpart is today or was in an earlier era. As a non-employing group, it has little economic power and has been, as a class, rather distant from the fount of all power in the Near East, the government. The other major component of the middle class, the civil servants, are, of course, closer to the seat of power but are a rather pliant instrument in the hands of the

Social Groups: Economic, Religious and National

39

real holders of political and economic power.22 And the recruits to the middle class even in an industrialized Arab world are not likely to be in a more independent position than their predecessors. Despite its small number, lack of power, and the limited role it will probably play in industrialization, the middle class has had enormous influence as a vehicle of modernization and the introduction of Western elements into the Arab world. Since this is too vast a subject to discuss in detail, I want to mention only one very important aspect of this middleclass role: the education and emancipation of women. We might first, however, bear in mind that as a vehicle of modernization in social relationships, family roles, relations between the sexes, and patterns of consumption, the middle class has exerted an extraordinary influence simply in showing the Arab world that change itself is possible, that there are other traditions and ways of doing things, and that even the Near East itself has varied styles of life and attitudes. In regard to the education and emancipation of women (a process, incidentally, not irrelevant to industrialization and urbanization), the middle class has. been quicker than others to send its daughters into the public schools, the shops, and even the secondary schools and universities, especially in Egypt. The upper classes have sheltered their daughters or Westernized them abroad. The lower classes have as yet hardly been drawn into this process. So it is the middle class that has felt the impact of changing family roles and of new employment opportunities which have changed the status and behavior of women. A study by an Egyptian social scientist23 shows the degree to which a sample of secondary school girls in Alexandria enjoy greater social freedom than their mothers did at the same age. One of its most interesting findings is that the daughters' degree of emancipation INCREASES as the income and education of their fathers increase, whereas their mothers' degree of emancipation DECLINED as THEIR fathers' income and education increased. This means, if these findings are representative, that today the higher a family's socio-economic status, the MORE emancipated the daughters are likely to be, whereas a generation ago the higher the status of the family, the LESS emancipated the daughters were. In other words, a generation ago the daughters of middle-class families were more emancipated than those of upper-class families, which were apparently rather conservative. Thus emancipation and education of women seem to have spread upward and downward from the middle class. In this critically important realm of social relations it was the middle class that made the first tentative but unmistakable moves toward change. 22 23

See ibid., ch. 7. Mito.

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Μ. Berger

Technological change is also stirring Arab society and shifting socioeconomic classes. Once accepted, as it is coming to be in the Near East, it places different values on certain skills and brings with it new social relationships and ideological commitments. The most powerful and articulate elements in the Arab world want technological change, especially industrialization. In such change the middle class has played an important part by introducing the idea of change itself, by supplying leaders and an articulate if small following in nationalist causes, and by at least beginning to transform itself from a largely clerical administrative bureaucracy into a managerial-technological one. Economic growth, if it takes place steadily and to a substantial degree, or even if it is sought seriously, may lead to an important change in orientation in the Arab world - from the high political concern of the era in which it sought complete independence, to economic and technological goals as a means of raising living standards and of enhancing national power once independence is achieved. Military regimes and the decline of parliaments and political parties may reduce the immediate attractiveness of politics and administration as careers. If economic growth can open up new ones, and if new social groups can acquire a stake in continued economic advance and in the sharing of political power, the Near East may well enter a period of greater social and political stability. The middle class can play a limited but important part in such changes, especially by its example and through its flexibility and familiarity with the new patterns and its close relationship with those elements of the population that want to cling to the old. If the various types of elite groups in the middle class can develop a spirit of independence and of responsibility to the entire society rather than only to their own narrow and immediate interests, they may be able to provide a good measure of the leadership that could take some parts of the Arab world into a new era of orderly progress.

SIGNIFICANCE OF CLASS DIFFERENCES IN TRADITIONAL AND CONTEMPORARY SOCIETY

The class structure of the contemporary Arab world reflects that of its past eras despite the elimination of slavery and the other major difference we have already discussed, that is, the gradual advance of occupation and wealth as the main criterion of class position at the expense of ethnoreligious affiliation. The similarities between present and traditional patterns extend throughout the class structure. First, there is still a far greater gulf between the highest and lowest classes with respect to wealth, power, attitudes, dress, and style of life in general than in industrial societies. Second, the middle groups, as we have just seen, are relatively

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small and weak, and the military and civilian bureaucracy still comprises a large proportion of it. Third, the learned professions (traditionally connected with religion, now more secular) have high status. Finally, the peasants and urban workers are still so poor and depressed that, except for a very small section of the latter which has recently begun to find articulate leaders, they remain virtually outside the political community. Arab class structure is not feudal, although this loose epithet has become fashionable among some Western observers who want to draw attention to rural poverty, and among Arab spokesmen who want to condemn the old regimes. Arab society, traditional and modern, has little similarity to feudal Europe with its autonomous manorial order and elaborate system of personal dependence of one social group upon another. In some parts of the Arab world, however, notably Egypt before land reform, landless farm workers and tenants were so tied to certain large estates that the complete control of their lives by the owners suggested a feudalistic relationship in practice though not in law. Although there is a strong impulse toward equality in Islam, traditional Arab Moslem society was far from egalitarian in doctrine or practice. The Koran itself refers to the divine creation of class differences. One verse (ch. 6, verse 165) says that God "hath raised some of you above others by various grades, that he may prove [test] you by his gifts." Another (ch. 4, verse 36) admonishes the believer: "Covet not the gifts by which God hath raised some of you above others. The men shall have a portion according to their deserts, and the women a portion according to their deserts." Still other verses (e.g., ch. 17, verse 22 and ch. 16, verse 73) refer to such distinction of wealth and station. In early Islamic society Muhammad tried to create a sense of brotherhood that would exclude all social differences among believers except the one of degree of piety. But his very success as Prophet and the expansion and enrichment of Islam after him perpetuated familiar class distinctions and introduced still another one: prestige in virtue of one's relationship to the Prophet. Special honor was attached to those (the muhajirun) who accompanied Muhammad on the migration (hegira) from Mecca to Medina, and to his helpers (the ansar) in Medina. Later on, when Islam had established its vast empire in Asia and Africa, Arab Moslems were superior to the non-Arabs in social status, although the latter's disabilities in economic and political life were mitigated with time. And even to this day, prestige is accorded to those who trace their ancestry to Muhammad's immediate family or to his tribe, the Quraysh. At the bottom of traditional Arab Moslem society were the slaves. Muhammad accepted the slave system of his time, though the Koran called for improvement in their treatment. Considered inferior, many

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slaves were nevertheless able to rise to positions of great wealth and power; those who did not, nevertheless retained certain rights, including relatively easy access to freedom. The very first muezzin (or mosque official who chants the call to prayer) appointed by Muhammad himself, was a slave from Ethiopia.24 Slavery in Islamic society was thus not the same kind of exploitative arrangement it was in the antebellum Southern United States, for example, where it was an integral part of a plantation economy. In traditional Islam slavery was chiefly confined to the household, and thus was associated more with the prestige of the owners than with their directly economic interests in a broad sense. Traditional Islam recognized certain class distinctions which have now disappeared. Among them was the doctrine of kafa'ah (equality) according to which families sought to insure that their daughters did not marry into an inferior social class; and if such a misalliance was contracted it could be legally annulled. In the theory of evidence in Islamic law, cross-examination was not known. The courts became bound to accept as fact something attested to by two witnesses whose status in the community was such that they were believed to tell the truth. 25 And in punishment as well as in receiving testimony as evidence, the traditional Islamic courts took social status into account.26 The importance of these traditional and modern class distinctions may be seen in the way they have influenced the major struggles for power in the Arab world in the last half-century or so. During the last quarter of the nineteenth century the first nationalist stirrings had a strong religious tinge. The caliphate in Turkey still existed as a rallying point for Islam, and reformist efforts within Islam took on an anticolonial aspect that gave certain religious leaders an important part in what was later to become an almost entirely secular movement. In these early disputes between the native elite groups and the Western governments or the European classes in the Arab world, the so-called 'sheikhly' class of religious divines was thus prominent. After World War I the anticolonial struggle was carried on largely by secular nationalist political parties led by large landowners, urban industrial and commercial interests, the professional upper middle classes, and in some countries by army officers. Meanwhile, native Arab elites were at odds with one another, for the religious leaders resented their declining influence and made several unsuccessful attempts to halt the trend. In addition, the growing class of army officers was beginning to feel its strength as the Western armies left the area or restricted their functions and became 24 26 86

"Bilal b. Rabah", E.I. {New), Vol. I, p. 1215a. Vesey-Fitzgerald, p. 94. Tyan, Histoire, Vol. 1, p. 377.

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43

geographically less extended.27 After World War II the growth of industry (which had begun earlier and which was stimulated by the war) and of international communism strengthened the urban working class, which the older upper class, the military, and the religious have all sought to influence or to control. Differences in social class are reflected both in struggles among the elite groups and in the attitudes of the people who make up these classes and in their predispositions to act. In the nationalist movement, for example, the role of the various classes has differed. Today, the Arab leaders, especially in Egypt and Iraq, are striving to draw upon new groups, including the lower middle class, the urban workers and even the peasants, to give support to their regimes and to the larger goals of Arab nationalism. These are social classes that lay outside the nationalist tide under the Arab monarchies. Several descriptions (based upon the same data) of the class differences in Egyptian nationalism on the even of the 1952 revolution indicate the importance of social class in this dominant ideology of contemporary Arab society.28 Interviews with Egyptian professionals in 1951 revealed an ambivalent nationalism: they admired Western ways but felt hurt by the imputation of inferiority to Westerners; they wanted to drive out the British (then still occupying Egypt under a treaty the Egyptian government soon repudiated) but could not bring themselves to advocate resolute action to achieve this goal. The lower middle-class respondents, the white collar workers, with fewer ties to the West through education and travel, displayed an 'uncomplicated' form of nationalism in which emotional rejection of the British was matched by resolute dependence on direct action to drive them out of the country. Among the urban workers, uneducated, unorganized, concerned with maintaining their meager existence, nationalism was weakest; in this class national sentiment was reduced or diverted by resentment against the native Egyptian rulers as well. Among the peasants, finally, the interviews revealed a strong national feeling reinforced by religion and a sense of belonging to the land itself; this was not a kind of nationalism easily galvanized into political action. Like the nationalism of the urban dispossessed, that of the rural dispossessed was mitigated by extreme poverty and absorption in the struggle to keep alive. Such differences of social class have concomitants and consequences which place narrow limits upon what Arab society can do. It is these concomitants and consequences that Arab leaders are now trying to overcome. 87

In neighboring Moslem Iran and Turkey in this period just after World War I army officers came to power and greatly weakened both the upper-class nationalists and the religious leaders, thus foreshadowing what was to come a generation later in much of the Arab world as well. " Lerner, pp. 221-231.

A. Lutfiyya

ISLAM AND VILLAGE CULTURE*

Lutfiyya describes some of the major religious beliefs and practices of Islam and their applications in a Jordanian village. The nature of resistance to change and the Koran backing for such resistance are explained. Although Islam originated as an urban religion, the most traditional expression of it is now found in the villages rather than in the sophisticated cities.

All inhabitants of Baytin belong to the Sunni (Orthodox) branch of the Islamic faith. Their fundamental belief is that the Qur'än contains the very words of God as revealed to Muhammad through the angel Gabriel, and that only through Islam can one hope to gain salvation. The Islamic tradition which stems from the teachings of the Qur'än and the sunnah (the 'way' pointed out by the Prophet's hadith or sayings, fi^l or deeds, and taqrir or silent approval1) imposes on the community a strict way of life that tends to govern the thoughts and the actions of the villagers. Islam, it should be noted,2 provides its followers with a complete system of social conduct based on divine sanction. It demands a close adherence to divine law, promising reward for practicing and *

Abdulla M. Lutfiyya, Baytin (Mouton & Co., The Hague). Shorter Encyclopaedia of Islam, ed. by H. A. R. Gibb and J. K. Kramers (London, Luzac, 1953), pp. 552-553. 2 Cf. Henri Lammens, Islam: Beliefs and Institutions, trans. E. Denison Ross (London, Methuen & Co., Ltd., 1929), p. 43; D. B. MacDonald, Muslim Theology, Jurisprudence and Constitutional Theory (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1903), p. 107; H. A. R. Gibb, Modern Trends in Islam (Chicago, The University of Chicago Press, 1945), pp. 85-87; Use Lichtenstadter, Islam and the Modern Age (New York, Bookman Associates, 1958), pp. 85-86. 1

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punishment for neglecting it. Islam further makes no distinction between the sacred and the secular. It demands that all actions of the believer, no matter how trivial, meet prescribed religious standards. That, "where the Qu?an did not fully and clearly provide direction, the inquirer should seek trustworthy information as to what Muhammad had said on the subject, what his actions had been with relation to it, or what he had approved in others". 3 In describing this totalitarian aspect of Islam, Professor Grunebaum very ably puts it in the following words: Islam aims at comprehending life in its totality. It posits the ideal of a life in which, from the cradle to the grave, not a single moment is spent out of tune with or merely unprovided for by religious ruling. The distinction between important detail of daily routine loses much of its meaning when every step is thought of as prescribed by divine ordinance. Profane and sacred no longer denote the area withdrawn from, and the area subject to, religious supervision. No sphere is left in which our doings are inconsequential for our fate in the hereafter. The relevancy of our failings will vary according to their moral and social significance, but nowhere shall we find a no-man's land to which religion does not lay claim. The Prophet had been charged with revealing not merely the great metaphysical truths but the rules of daily conduct as well. The Lord wanted the faithful to organize their commonwealth in a certain manner, he enjoined them to follow a certain code of law, and he selected for them a certain way of life. Thus, by accepting Islam, the believer accepted a ready-made set of mandatory answers to any question of conduct that could possibly arise. As long as he obeyed sacred custom the Muslim's life was hallowed down to its irksome and repulsive episodes, and he would be fortified by the assurance of his righteousness.4 The general teachings of Islam have been fully analyzed in many impressive scholarly works in the English language. Any attempt to discuss these teachings here would be repetitious. But a summary of certain aspects of the faith is necessary here for a clear comprehension of how Islam has come to affect the outlook on life and the everyday behavior of the villager. Allah, according to Islamic tradition, is the creator (Khäliq) of all that was or is. He has complete control over the universe and what is in it. Nothing has happened or shall happen without his knowledge or will. He is the only eternal and unique reality. At the end, "every thing shall perish except His face". 5 ® Ettcyclopeadia of Religion and Ethics, ed. James Hastings (New York, Charles Scribner's Sons, 1922), XII, 114. 4 Gustave Ε. Von Grunebaum, Medieval Islam: A Study in Cultural Orientation, 2nd ed. (Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1953), p. 108. 4 Qur'än, ν: 26-27.

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Man is God's creature and slave feabd). Man was created for the sole purpose of worshiping and praising God.® God does not need man for anything, for He is "a Being which suffices unto itself, all powerful, omniscient, and containing all things in itself ...."' God is "closer to him [man] than (his) jugular vein". 8 He keeps a constant watch over man, and He "misleads whom He will and guides whom He will".9 Thus, "man must live in constant fear and awe of Him". 10 Islam divides all human acts into five general categories: (1) Haläl or lawful acts. These are the actions in harmony with the teachings of the Qur'än and the Prophetical tradition. They can earn the doer hasanät or good marks. (2) Haräm or forbidden acts. These are the actions in which the doer violates the teachings of Islam. They result in sayi'ät or bad marks. (3) Mandüb or commendable acts, whose accomplishment is rewarded, but whose omission is not punished. (4) Mubäh or permissible acts; and (5) Makrüh or reprehensible acts, which are not punishable. 11 Every person is assigned two guardian angels at birth who are charged with keeping a thorough account of one's behavior on earth. The first angel sits on the right shoulder of man and records the hasanät. The second sits on the left shoulder and records only the sayVät. "Not a word does he [man] utter but there is a sentinel (raqib) ready (to note it)".12 Islam teaches that man receives punishment for haräm acts both on earth and in the hereafter. Punishment on earth comes from two sources. The wrongdoer is punished by the theocratic authority ruling in the Islamic state or community in which he lives. The sinner is also subject to loss of wealth and to personal suffering through the will of God. In the words of the Qur'än : "whatever misfortune happens to you, is because of the things your hands have wrought". 13 In the hereafter, all persons will be separated into three classes. First, the Maqarrabün or "the nearest to God". This group includes the prophets, the most righteous, and the most blessed among men.14 Secondly, Ashäbu al-Maymana, or "companions of the right". 15 These * Qur'än. ' As quoted in Henri Masse, Islam, trans, by Halide Edib (New York, G. P. Putnam's Sons, 1938), p. 129. 8 Qur'än, L:16. • Qur'än, Lxxiv:31. 10 H. A. R. Gibb, Muhammedanism: An Historical Survey (New York, The New American Library, 1955), p. 50. 11 Masse, pp. 141-142. " Qur'än, L:17. 18 Qur'än, xLii:30. 14 Qur'än, lvi:10-26. " Qur'än, lvi:8; 27-40.

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are the righteous people who have obeyed God's words and behaved according to his teachings. They are "the godfearing men and women, humble and charitable, the forgiving, those who have suffered and been persecuted for God's sake (and) those who have fought in the way of God".1® Thirdly, there are Ashäbu al-MasKama, or "companions of agony". These are often called Ashäbu al-Shamäl, or the "companions of the left".17 This group includes the unbelievers, the wicked, and the wrongdoers whose say'ät are outweighed by their hasanät. The first two groups, the Muqarrabün and Ashäbu al-Maymana, are promised rewards in the Garden of Paradise. Here they shall recline on thrones encrusted with gold and precious stones and be served by "youth of perpetual freshness". They shall be offered heavenly foods and drinks under shady trees that have no thorns. In addition, they shall enjoy the company of heavenly maidens who are pure, graceful and beautiful, and who will never grow old.18 The third group, Asftäbu al-Shamäl, are condemned to the fire of Hell. Here they shall abide forever, with no release from their torment. The sinners shall feed on the fruits of the cursed zaqqüm tree which will boil in their insides like molten brass. When thirsting they shall be offered boiling water which they shall drink "like sick camels raging with thirst".18 Islam enjoined the believers with five fundamental obligations (farä'id). These are commonly known as arkänu al-Isläm (sometimes arkänu al-dm), or the "Five Pillars" upon which Islam is built. The fulfillment of these obligations is essential for salvation. The "Five Pillars" are: (1) Al-tashahhud, or the profession of faith according to the well-known formula of al-shahädah (the testimonial creed): "lä ilaha ilia Alläh wa Muhamadun rasula Alläh", or "there is no god but Allah and Muhammad is the Messenger of Alläh". (2) Al-?alät, or the traditional canonical prayer of worship,20 in which the Muslim is supposed to indulge five times a day at certain fixed hours.21 This prayer is preceded by ablution (iwudiV) and the Muslim prays while facing Mecca. (3) Al-gawm, or the 16

Gibb, Mohammedanism, p. 54. Qur'än, lvi:9; 41-65. 18 Qur'än, Ivi: 10-40; Gibb, Mohammedanism, p. 54. " Qur'än, Ivi: 41 -44; xxxvii: 62-68; and xliv:43-46. 20 This prayer is not to be confused with the näfilah, or the supererogatory prayer; the tahajjud, or nocturnal prayer; the du^ff, or prayer to ask fulfillment of one's desires; and falät al-janäzah, or the prayer of the dead. " The five prayer times are: (1) falät al-fubh, or the morning prayer, which is held at dawn before sunrise; (2) falät al-zuhr, or noon prayer; (3) salät alsafr, or afternoon prayer, held about 4 p.m.; (4) falät al-maghrib, or the evening prayer, just after sunset; and (5) salät al-3ishä', or the night prayer, which is held between the evening prayer and midnight. "

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fast during the month of Ramadän. 22 During this religious period, the faithful are supposed to abstain from all eating, drinking, smoking and sexual intercourse from sunrise (buzügh al-shams) to the appearance of the cresent moon (ru'yatu al-hiläl) at evening. (4) Al-zakät, or payment of the tithe; 23 and (5) al-hajj, or pilgrimage to Mecca in Saudi Arabia. In practicing their religion, the villagers at Baytin tend to ignore most of the more demanding religious practices and to pay attention only to those traditional Islamic teachings that have been fully incorporated in the culture as a part of everyday behavior. Very few of the villagers pay zakat faithfully. 24 During the month of Ramadän, only a small number, about five percent of the total population, fast for an entire month. Only rarely do more than two dozens of people pray regularly during this period. So far as making pilgrimage to Mecca is concerned, only two couples have ever made the journey in the past half century and even they made the trip for reasons that were not wholly religious.25 Contrary to their covert behavior, all the villagers attempt to convey the impression that they are practicing their religious duties assiduously. Although the majority do not fast during Ramadan, most villagers refrain from eating, drinking or smoking publicly during that month. While pilgrimages to Mecca have been very rare, almost all inhabitants have talked about making such a trip one day. If caught in a violation of any of the religious rites, villagers feel compelled to provide some excuse for their behavior. For example, they will claim sickness or illhealth has required them to break the fast if they are found eating or drinking in the day during Ramadän. The reasons for this behavior are not hard to discover. Social ostracism awaits anyone who openly ignores the religious rituals or speaks lightly of Islam. The degrading title of kafir, or unbeliever, is difficult to shed once it is acquired.

22

Good behavior is also demanded and expected from the faithful during this month. The Prophet is quoted as having said: "If any one does not give up speaking lies and practising deception, God is not concerned with his abstaining from drinking and eating." See Emile Dermenghem, Muhammad and the Islamic Tradition, trans. Jean M. Watt (London, Harbor and Brothers, 1958), p. 117. 28 It is not to be confused with al-?adaqah or voluntary contributions that may be given at any time. 24 Cf. Raphael Patai, "The Middle East as a Culture Area", The Middle East Journal, VI, (Winter, 1952), 19. 25 The first couple had a son, who, while working in Saudi Arabia, invited his parents to come visit him. He paid for their trip and made it possible for them to make the journey at the right time of the year to fulfill the obligation. The second couple were well-to-do, and the husband was an active local politician. They went to Saud Arabia as tourists during the pilgrimage season and fulfilled the rite while there.

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For the few who do keep the faith devoutly, there are social rewards. Persons noted for their piety are highly respected. Greater trust is placed in them and their opinions are more highly regarded. For this reason, local politicians and leaders strive to convince the people of their religious sincerity.26 Although the official rites of Islam are largely ignored, the villagers have developed a philosophy of life that includes the following religious traditions: (1) a feeling of dependency on God; (2) the fear of God's punishment on earth as well as in the hereafter; (3) a deep-seated respect for tradition and for the past; (4) politeness to all and generosity. In the pages that follow an attempt will be made to analyze the behavior of the people at Baytin in the light of these religious attitudes.

DEPENDENCY ON GOD

"In shä'a Alläh", or the phrase "if God wills it", looms large in the thinking of the average inhabitant of Baytin. Implicit in this saying is the fatalism which is characteristic of most villagers. One hears this phrase repeated constantly. A visitor may ask a villager: "Are you going to send your son to school next year?" The inevitable answer is, "in shä'a Aläh". No further explanation is added or needed. One is apt to hear a mother telling her son who is on his way to school; "in shä'a Alläh you succeed in passing your examination today". His reply then would be: "in shä'a Alläh". If a villager loses something of value, he does not stop to examine the causes for the loss, but merely sighs philosophically "hathihi mashVatu Alläh", or "this is the will of God". Friends who come around to offer sympathy merely reinforce this belief by repeating the same saying. The author recalls once listening to an old man telling another villager who had just lost his sick cow, the only property he had, "this is the will of Alläh. By taking your cow, Alläh has tested your faith. Be thankful to Alläh and you may be rewarded a better cow". "You are right", replied the second villager, "this is mashVatu Alläh, there is no god but He, and let Him be praised in all circumstances". The villager exhibits a similar fatalism in his farming. He sows during the early spring repeating with every handful of seeds he throws in the ground the formula: "I am throwing (the seeds in the ground) with my right hand. My dependence is on Alläh alone (to let them grow)." He then lets nature take its course. If sufficient rain falls, and a good crop is harvested, then Alläh must have answered his prayers. If the results 26

Cf. E. W. Lane, The Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians, 3rd ed. (E. P. Dutton & Co., Inc. 1908), p. 285.

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are not good, the outcome is taken as a sign that God is unhappy with the behavior of his 3abd, or servant. During one long drought, farmers sought out the aid of a pious layman to pray for rain. He ordered many of the men and boys to gather in the saha in the center of the village with some tin cans and sticks. Together, they marched through the narrow and dusty streets beating the cans and calling upon God to send rain. This noisy demonstration was repeated for four successive afternoons. Finally, "God heard and answered the request", and rain come pouring down "from heaven". The same philosophy was evident in a discussion on "poverty and birth control" that took place in one of the coffee shops in the village. The consensus of those present was that all children were born simply because God willed it. No child is ever born without his ruzq (livelihood) being sent down from heaven with him. Hence, the child is never a burden to his family. It is God who decides how much property and wealth anyone should have. How unwise and foolish then, of anyone to try and limit his offspring, hoping that this might increase his wealth. Indeed, to practice birth control is to oppose the will of God.27 This dependency on God is so strong that it tends to manifest itself in almost every phase of the villager's behavior. Every villager utters certain traditional sayings several times each day to invoke the blessing of God. When he begins a task, he says aloud that he is doing it "in the name of God, the Merciful, the Compassionate".28 When he has finished, he offers his "thanks to God the Lord of all people" for enabling him to complete the job. 28 If a villager receives some aid in accomplishing a certain task, he thanks his helper by telling him "may God pay you (hasanät) for the work you have done for me". The helper then answers: "sdmahak Allah", or "may the Lord forgive you (for me)". If the villager simply uses the phrase "thank you" to his helper, the helper reminds him, "let your thanks be to God (al-shakru li-Alläh) (for He is the one who caused me to help you)". At the completion of a meal, the guest looks at the host and says: "May God will that your tables continue (to be loaded with food so that you may always be able to entertain your guests)", or "In shä'a Alläh al-sufra dayma". The guest might also say: "Allah yikhlif $alayk wa ykathir khayrak", meaning "may God compensate you (for what you have given me to eat), and heap his abundance upon you". The inevitable rejoinder is "salaynä wa 3alayk", or "may he do that for both of us". Cf. Qur'än, Xvii: 31. This is the phrase with which every surä (Qur'änic chapter) begins. 29 Excluded from this is the haräm or unlawful act, where the doer refrains from invoking the name of God. "

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Despite all that has been said to demonstrate the dependency the villager places on God, it is pertinent to note that he recognizes he must work in order to provide for himself. He must depend upon man as well as God and during the late summer and fall seasons he gathers food in his house to see him through the winter months. THE FEAR OF GOD'S PUNISHMENT

The Muslim villager, as noted above, feels that God keeps a very close watch over him. God is interested in his everyday behavior; he will be punished for his "bad" acts, and rewarded for his "good". Consequently before the villager will commit a sin or undertake a move which might be construed as sinful, he asks himself the question: "Would God be pleased or displeased with my behavior?" If he proceeds to commit the sin, he lives in fear of God's punishment and hopes that he might appease Allah by repentance and doing good deeds in the future. Laboring under this sense of guilt, the villager is apt to interpret any ill-fortune that befalls him as God's retribution for the wrong he has committed. For example, one villager reported that two days after he had committed adultery, one of his children drowned. In another case where a family lost its wealth, villagers were quick to point out that the family fortune had been acquired in a dishonest way in the first place. A sinner who is in doubt may often interpret his dreams in terms of divine guidance. After a bad dream, he may seek repentence by performing "good" deeds to make up for his sins. Such repentance might include the giving of gifts to the poor, bringing gifts to religious shrines, or fasting an extra number of days in addition to the general fast during the month of Ramadän. If a villager suffers misfortune but cannot attribute it to any sin or wrong doing, he is apt to ask: "God what have I done wrong that you should punish me?" Such an attitude is evident in the remarks made by parents who are mistreated by their offspring. Mothers are often heard to remark in the presence of their friends and disobedient children: "I have never committed the sin of adultery. Why, then, should God punish me by giving me such a disobedient son". Swearing by God, the prophet Muhammad, and the Qur'än is a normal habit with most villagers. It is not considered an act of disrespect, provided that the villager does not perjure himself.30 Such expressions ,0

The Qur'än prohibits the use of oaths in ordinary talk and suggests that they should be reserved for serious matters. See Qur'än, II: 224. Further, oaths and vows, according to Islam, should be made in the name of God alone and not in the name of the Prophet, the Qur'än, the Ka^ba (Black stone), or a saint, as is now customary at Bäytin. See Tritton, p. 146.

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are so common that a simple conversation between two friends might run as follows: — "Have you seen my son Ahmad today?" — " Wa-Allähi (by God) no".' — "We have been looking for him all day. Wa-Allähi we do not know where he has gone". — "What seems to be wrong with him? Wa-Allähi he strikes me as a good boy". — " Wa-Allähi we do not know. He asked us to buy him a bicycle last night, and we said no. This morning he disappeared. Wa-Allähi we do not know where he has gone". — "That's it. If you don't get them what they want they get angry with you. Wa-n-Nabi (by the Prophet), children these days need a big stick to be broken on their backs. Wa-Allähi al-^azim (by God the greatest) if I were in your place I wouldn't look for him. When he gets hungry, he'll go home. Come, let me buy you a cup of coffee". — "May God heap his abundance upon you. Wa-Allähi one's heart does not leave him (from worrying in such a case). I'd better look for him". — "May the Lord accompany you (in your search)". — "And (may he be) with you". Despite the frequent use of such oaths, they hold a special significance in certain instances. An oath by God given by an accused person is often accepted as a sufficient proof of his innocence. It is believed that whosoever swears intentionally and falsely by God, His Prophet, or by the Qur'än shall suffer on earth as well as in the hereafter. The story is told of a villager who died within a week after he had sworn falsely on the Qur'än that he did not move the stones marking the boundary between his land and that of his cousin. The villagers believe further that it is worse sin to swear by God falsely while facing southward toward the Prophet's tomb in Medina, or while at the shrine of a saint. By swearing falsely at a saint's shrine, the perjurer antagonizes the saint in addition to God. Numerous stories are told by the villagers of saints appearing to them in their dreams after they had sworn a false oath, and threatening to punish them if they did not confess to their crimes and repent to God by paying a kaffära (atonement).31 One tale told by a villager in this regard was that of a man who agreed to swear by God on the shrine of a local saint called Shay ban, that he did not steal his neighbor's lamb. On their way to the shrine, a cobra suddenly appeared before the men and would not allow the accused person to pass. This was accepted by the accused 81

In its original form the kaffära consisted of feeding or clothing ten poor men, the freeing of a slave, or fasting for three consecutive days. See Tritton, p. 146.

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as ample warning that he should tell the truth. He then confessed and returned to the village to pay for his crime. In addition to punishing him for his own "bad" thoughts, the villager fears God might also punish him for keeping company with anyone who has "bad" thoughts, or who makes blasphemous remarks. Hence, if someone utters in his presence a wicked statement, the villager automatically tries to disassociate himself from his companion by shaking his head in disapproval and by invoking the repentance formula: "Astaghfuru Allah al-sazim", or "I beg forgiveness of God the Greatest". Then, he turns to the sinner and declares: "La hna bi-hthäk wala ismi^näk", or "we are not near you and we have not heard (what) you (have just uttered)". The villager often tries to appease God and to avoid His punishment by vowing to offer Him a dahiyya, or a sacrifice.32 Sacrifices are also offered on behalf of a dead relative. This is done with the hope that the sacrifice will please God so that He may add hasanät to the record of the deceased to help out-weigh the safät the dead person acquired during his life time.33 In summary, the feat of God's punishment tends to direct the villager to take a course of action in his daily behavior that is in keeping with Islamic ethics. On the other hand, the idea that God can be appeased and that His forgiveness can be obtained by repentance and the offer of sacrifices leads many a villager to deviate from Islamic teachings and to commit criminal acts.

A DEEP-SEATED RESPECT FOR TRADITION AND THE PAST

Muslims are taught to look to the Qur'än for inspiration and guidance in whatever they do. This holy book is said to be the most complete source of truth and wisdom. But Islam also sanctions traditional behavior and gives it precedence over innovations.34 This view finds a legal support in the sharl^a doctrine that declares, "al-qadim yabqä $ala qidamih", i.e., "anything of the past has precedence (over innovations)". Hence, Islam provides its followers with a tradition that is deeply entrenched in the religion and hardened by past usage. The rural folk at Baytin, like most Muslims, are tradition-oriented. 32

Sacrifices of this kind involve the killing of sheep or oxen and the distribution of meat as well as the hides among the needy or to persons outside of the immediate family. 3S Cf. Tritton, p. 147. 84 Cf. H. A. R. Gibb and Bowen, Islamic Society and the West: Islamic Society in the Eighteenth Century (London, Oxford University Press, 1950), I, Part, p. 214.

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"Good" and "bad" acts are so defined in the light of the traditional norm. Thus, if an act is in accord with custom, it is good; if not, it is bad. In the absence of a specific traditional norm, one's behavior is expected to be guided by the spirit of tradition in general.35 In view of this orientation, the observer can, without much difficulty, explain the reasons behind certain practices found in this society. There is a constant yearning to get back to "the good old days". Innovators are always the objects of shame and ridicule. Invariably there is an outright rejection of anything new that appears to conflict with tradition. There is always a deep respect reserved for the aged, and a heavy reliance upon sayings and proverbs in everyday conversation. The average villager is strongly influenced by respect for his ancestors. When faced with a problem, he will often pause for a while to ask how his father or some other person whom he idealizes would have reacted in a similar situation. There is a strong feeling that the problems of the present could be better handled by people who lived in the past. Those of past generations are invariably found to be wiser, more generous, and more courageous, whether they were local men of a relatively recent history, such as, Müsa Lihmad,36 or famous men of distant Arab communities, such as Hätin Tayy, Abu Zayd, or jAntara ibin Shaddäd.37 When the sirah, or biography, of these men is read in public, the listeners are often heard to say, with a sense of sincerity and certainty, that "never will the womb of a woman carry another like him".38 The average villager resents social change and rejects anything new that conflicts with tradition. Old men often express unhappiness because they have survived their mates and friends of the past and have lived to see customs change. They seem to think that this is part of God's punishment for wrong-doings they have committed. Older persons are 85

Cf. Sania Hamady, Temperament and Character of the Arabs (New York, Twayne Publishers, 1960), p. 152. 36 Müsa Lihmad is a local figure from a nearby village who gained a great deal of reputation early in this century as a generous and an outspoken shaykh. " Hätim Tayy, Abu Zayd, and 3Antara ibin Shaddäd date back to pre-Islamic times. The first, a poet of some repute, gained his fame from the fact that he personified the Arab ideal of generosity and hospitality. Abu Zayd, a legendary figure of the past, was noted for his valor and courage in the battlefield. The third, 3Antara of the tribe of 3Abs, was the son of a slave mother. He was acknowledged by his father only after he had distinguished himself in the battlefield. 3Antara is also a poet of renown, and the hero of a celebrated romance with a cousin named 3Abla. See Hazim Zaki Nuseibeh, The Ideas of Arab Nationalism (Ithaca, N.Y., Cornell University Press, 1959), pp. 14-15f. a8 The sirahs of such celebrated heroes were often read at homes and in public places, especially during the long nights of the winter season. Villagers have shown less interest in such biographies in recent years. This is due in part to the use of radios in coffee shops and in the homes.

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often heard to exclaim: "God! What have I done to cause you to lengthen my age so that I may live to witness the strange and shameful practices of the new generation?" One mother compared the differences in courtship during her youth and today and said to the author that she would rather have died than to have lived to see her daughter accompany her fiance to the cinema. She added, "People today have no shame. They have lost the virtues of the past. They are no longer Muslims". Villagers in general display resentment toward any who reject the customs of the past. School boys who dared twenty years ago to walk in the streets without wearing the traditional headgear were ridiculed and nicknamed Umfar^ln, or "those with uncovered heads" - a term indicating that they were shameless, deviators and irreligious. Villagers who acquire alien habits, meaningful though they may be, are held in contempt. Hence any villager from a lower social class who uses silverware when eating will be confronted by the comment: "What did the good God give you a hand with five fingers for?" Villagers seem to think that whoever acquires strange habits is a deviator, rebelling against the ways of his people and against Islam. The villagers are taught from childhood to show great respect for their elders. Children are often instructed to kiss the hands of older people when they are introduced to them, to be polite in the presence of elders, and to stand up and offer them their seats. They are to remain standing until the older folks are all seated. Young people are encouraged to listen to and to learn from their elders. Only from older people who have lived in the past can one learn anything of value, they are told. The wisdom of the elders is seldom questioned. If one deviates from this norm and dares to challenge the ideas of an older person, he is put in his place immediately, by the latter who would tell him: "How would you know that? You were only born yesterday". If a younger person shows impoliteness in the presence of someone older than himself, he is rebuked for his behavior: "Haven't you any shame! I am older than your father". Respect for elders also stems from the belief that the prayers, vows, and curses of the older folks are always answered.39 Young people are often reminded that an "elder's blessing is (part) of the (greater) blessing of God". And that "the blessings of (one's) parents are better than anything (in the whole world)" in helping to achieve one's goal in life. By the same token, it is believed that whoever causes his parents to be angry with him arouses the anger of God, and hence earns His punishment.40 39

40

Cf. Hamady, p. 154. Qur'än, XVII:23-24; XXIX:8; XXXI:14; and XLVI:15-18.

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Respect for the past is also demonstrated in the way the villager expresses himself in everyday speech. Few villagers ever come up with an original expression. For the most part, the average villager relies upon traditional sayings and proverbs to convey his thoughts. Indeed, this is so much the case that the expression of ideas is often limited and restricted by reliance upon such folk sayings.41 Any speaker shunning such speech forms is immediately suspect. The wisdom of his statements is doubted unless they are heavily larded with proverbs. On the other hand, the villagers listen attentively to anyone who "documents" his conversation with sayings and popular expressions. This, in part, explains the extreme popularity and great enthusiasm in Baytin for the radio program called "Mudäfit Abü Mahmüd" or the "Guest house of the father of Mahmüd". The characters on this program employ colloquial language with humorous proverbs.42 The villagers also enjoy listening to classical Arabic, which differs considerably from colloquial language used in the village. This is not because they understand it at all, but because of the association with the glorious Arab past, and because it is the "sacred" language of the Holy Qur'än.43

POLITENESS AND GENEROSITY

Islam, it has been noted, provides its followers with a code of ethics that is designed to govern the behavior of the villagers at all times. The Muslim villager is required to observe a large number of obligatory forms of politeness. These are so rigid that they leave the individual very little room to adopt or to develop his own expressions of courtesy or etiquette. The average villager conforms to these traditional forms of etiquette, and because they are accepted so generally he is able to do so in an atmosphere of ease and seeming informality. The filial piety demanded and expected of all Muslims has already 41

Cf. Eli Shouby, "The Influence of the Arabic Language on the Psychology of the Arabs", Middle East Journal (Summer, 1951), V, 93; Η. H. Ayrout, The Fellaheen, trans, by Hilary Wayment (Cairo, R. Shindler, 1945), p. 132. 42 "Maijäfit Abü Mahmüd" is a daily radio program in which the two main characters try to depict the conversation of two elderly gentelmen, al-Hajj Mäzin and Abü Mahmüd, who meet every afternoon to discuss the affairs of the day. The discussion may touch on a political or social problem. The characters criticize the problem and offer a solution. Mr. Sami Judah, a member of the Jordanian House of Representatives, and a former Minister of Communication, informed the author, that, in his opinion, "Madäfit Abü Mahmüd" is the favorite program of all villagers in Jordan. City dwellers listen to it also, but for a different reason: To mock the fallähin and the way they express themselves. 43 Shouby, pp. 288-289.

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been noted. Such behavior is considered a religious duty. Ill-treatment of parents or disobedience to them constitutes a sin. The child is considered to owe his parents a great debt for bringing him up. Every Muslim child is trained to behave in accordance with an intricate system of etiquette in the presence of his parents. He is to kiss their hands - especially the father's - every morning, or at least on special occasions, such as religious holidays. He is to seek their du^ä (prayer to ask fulfillment of one's desires). He is to avoid their anger at any cost. He is to respond to their wishes - regardless of how foolish these wishes may be. He is to refrain from doing any thing that might displease his parents or cause them to suffer.44 It is his sacred obligation to remember them in his prayers, even after their death, and to ask for God's forgiveness and mercy for them.45 Children on the whole, are very obedient to their parents. Only the most impolite child dares to cross his legs, smoke, or utter profanity in the presence of his parents. No child dares to sit down while his father is still standing, or to start eating before his father. The polite child faces his parents with utter humility. He does not talk back if rebuked, or raise his hand in retaliation if struck. If his parents confiscate his personal belongings, the polite child is not expected to object to such an action.46 This complete obedience to parents does not end at an early age. It continues even after the child is married and lives away from his father and mother. In fact, a married man's first loyalty is to his parents; his loyalty to his wife comes second. If his wife does not honor and obey his parents, it is the husband's duty to rebuke her, beat her, and even divorce her. Tradition and religion combine to instruct the villager on how to be a good relative and neighbor. Everyone is expected to visit his neighbors and relatives at their homes on religious holidays. A gift, usually in cash, for every close married female relative (waliyyah) is expected on religious holidays from every close male relative who can afford such a gift. No such visits or gifts are demanded or expected on national holidays. Relatives (aqribä') and neighbors (jirän) are also visited and helped, if help is needed, on other occasions. This is especially true at the 41

The Qur'än, XVII:23 instructs: "Thy Lord hath decreed that you worship none but Him, and that ye be kind to parents. Whether one or both of them attain old age in thy life, say not to them a word of contempt, nor repel them, but address them in terms of honor." See also XXIX:8; XXXI:14; XLVI:15-18. 15 Qur'än, XVII: 24. 4β The villagers claim that when a young man complained to the Prophet that his father had confiscated his personal wealth, the Prophet told him: "You and your wealth are (the rightful) property of your father."

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arrival of a new baby or in the event of a death in the family. Similar visits are paid whenever a relative or neighbor goes or returns from a long trip, as well as in case of weddings and sickness. Parents often instruct their children that it is a sin to forsake a wctliyyah. They remind them also that the Prophet has specifically instructed his followers to look into the needs of their neighbors before they should look into the needs of their own homes.47 The etiquette of greetings and salutations is also highly formalized. When villagers meet in the street, the young must invariably greet the old first out of respect.48 Upon entering a house, the guest is required to give it his blessing.49 Salutation is regarded a religious obligation (wäjib), for the Qur'än commands "... when ye enter houses, salute one another with a greeting from Allah, blessed and sweet".50 The person greeted is expected to respond with a better greeting than the one he was saluted with. Thus, if one should salute another by using the traditional phrase "al-salämu salaykum", or "peace be upon thee", the reply of the latter most often would be: "Wa salaykumu al-saläm wa rahmatu Allähi wa barakätuh", or "and let the peace, the mercy and the blessings of God be upon thee".51 The villagers often quote a saying that runs: "If guests do not enter a house, angels do not enter it". This is their way of indicating that such a house is not blessed by God. In view of this traditional understanding, the villager usually puts aside any work that he might be doing to welcome any guests. Once the host sees his guest approaching, he puts on his best smile, regardless of his mood, and declares in a loud voice "ahlan wa sahlan", or "(you are visiting) your own people, and (treading upon) plain grounds". He then shakes hands with each guest, repeating the traditional phrase "ahlan wa sahlan" several times. The guests are then led into the house, offered the best seats, and every effort is made to provide for their comfort. A cool reception in the eyes of the villagers is considered bad taste and reflects bad manners. The host feels it his duty to make the guest feel welcome. He will say that he is delighted and honored by the visit and inquire why his guest " The Arabic saying in this connection is "3alayk biliär qabl al-där". The Prophet is also quoted to have said: "None of you really has faith unless he desires for his neighbor what he desires for himself." 48 It has been noticed that in certain instances, such as when the younger person is of a higher station in life, the older person would initiate the greeting. 49 A greeting is offered even when one enters an empty house, for fear that what might appear to be an empty house is inhabited by spirits. 50 Qur'än, XXIV: 61. 51 A tradition maintains that the Prophet has said: "To him who says al-salämu 3alaykum, Allah would record ten good deeds (hasanat), twenty for wa-rahmatu Allähi (and God's mercy), and thirty for wa barakatüh (and his blessings)."

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has not visited more often. The host will do everything in his power to give the impression that he has no work to do, so as to spare his guest the feeling that he may be imposing. For fear that his guest might feel lonely, the host will not leave him alone except under very unusual circumstances. The ritual of hospitality commences by offering coffee to the guest immediately after his arrival. The guest accepts the coffee readily because it would be an insult to his host to reject it. However, upon being offered the cup of coffee, the guest murmurs the traditional phrase: "laysh ha al-ghalaba", or "why did you bother yourself so much?" This first tender of hospitality is followed by offering food to the guest. The guest shows more restraint when food is brought. He politely tells his host that he is full and at the moment has no desire to eat. He further volunteers the information, whether or not it be true, that he has eaten very recently. The host, on the other hand, will appear very apologetic for the simplicity of the food he has to offer. But he will insist that his guest partake of all the food he desires. The guest will be served the very best of food as long as he remains. It is not rare to find a sheep is killed to prepare one meal for a single guest. Indeed, the poor host may go into debt simply to entertain his guest in the proper style. In view of this custom, the women in poorer families who cannot afford meat in their diet have developed an expression that runs: "May the Lord bring us some guests, so that we may have meat broth to eat". The host also has the responsibility of clothing his guest if the visit coincides with religious holidays. When the visit is over, the host will make every effort to delay the departure of his guest. If the guest admires any item in the house during his stay, the host will offer it to him as a gift. The guest, of course, is expected to decline the offer. The guest has certain responsibilities toward his host. He is expected to be polite and to show his appreciation for everything done for him. He is also expected to leave a sizeable portion of the food offered to him so that the women and children of the household may have something left to eat. Generosity or karam is another old Arab virtue sanctioned by Islam. One of the ninety-nine names (or attributes) of God in the Arabic language is "al-Karim" or "the (most) generous". The Qur'än is also called "al-Qur'än al-Kanm" or "the Generous Qur'än". These are but some of the indications of the high value placed on the act of generosity in Islam. Within the village, the person who develops a reputation for being generous and hospitable finds that his friends increase, his word is respected, and that he is admired by all. On the other hand, if one gains the reputation of being stingy, he loses friends and his prestige in the community drops.

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Generosity is not to be saved for special occasions or only for those close to the family. Villagers expect acts of generosity to be continual and to cover all occasions and individuals. Thus, if anyone drops into a household while the family is eating, the host will insist that the newcomer share the food. One is not expected to smoke a cigarette without offering all the people around him a smoke. In the coffee house, the person entering rarely pays for his own coffee. However, he is expected to pay for the coffee of those who come after him. The villager returning from a successful business trip is expected to distribute part of his profit among the members of his hamüla by bringing them gifts and buying them food and clothing. One villager returning to his community after a long and successful business career in the United States was reported to have purchased gifts and clothing for as many as sixty-five relatives. From a religious point of view, the most appreciated and highly rewarded form of giving, is the sadaqah. This consists of gifts to those in need, whether they are related to the family or not. Such gifts given out of piety to please God are rewarded by promises of heaven and of even greater wealth.52

62 Cf. Qur'än, 11:177; 195; 215; 245; 261-274; 111:134; XXX:39; LVII:18; LVIII:10; LXIV:16-17. The Prophet is reported to have answered a man who asked him: "What is the best thing in Islam?" by saying: "It is to feed (the hungry) and to give the greeting (of peace) both to those one knows and to those one does not know."

S. Η. Longrigg and F. Stoakes

THE SOCIAL PATTERN*

Longrigg and Stoakes present a detailed description of factors similar to those which concerned Berger but apply themselves to Iraq rather than to the whole area. They consider the social pattern in general and then the fundamental institution, the family, as well as an instructive view of the daily life of the peasant and city dweller. Not being sociologists, the authors use the term culture in its narrow popular sense to describe the arts.

Since the Second World War Iraqi society has been evolving rapidly; in some of its main lineaments it has nevertheless changed little from Ottoman times. It is still a mosaic of discrete elements, some of them magnetised, as it were, by common characteristics into cohesion, others contained inertly by the external framework of the State. The post-war years have had a double effect: first, to introduce new pieces into the pattern and to change the size and importance of those that existed, and second, to soften and confuse their boundaries. It is still premature to speak of a single Iraqi society; but that unity is within measurable distance. The factors of division are still numerous. They include regionalism; religion, mainly as between the different Muslim and Christian sects and the Jews; language, mainly as between Arabic and Kurdish, with the accompanying divergence of historical and cultural tradition; economic * Stephen Hemsley Longrigg and Frank Stoakes, Iraq (Ernest Benn, Ltd., London, 1958), pp. 183-205. Stephen Longrigg spent thirty years in Iraq, at first as a political officer and then with the Iraq Petroleum Company. Frank Stoakes is director of MiddleEastern Studies at St. Antony College, Oxford.

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function; social habit; and education. These divisions, and particularly the last three, sometimes coincide, but more often intersect to form smaller groups whose separate identity is of some practical importance. The most obvious distinction is that of tribe and city. The former comprises both nomadic herdsman and settled cultivator, whose difference was initially one of function. The vast majority of Iraqi peasants, whether Arab or Kurd, are of tribal origin and their tribal organization and morality have largely survived their transformation from nomadic to sedentary life. The settlement of tribes has been a policy of the Iraqi as it was of the later Ottoman Government, serving to break their armed threat to the authority of the State but also to develop the national economy. Between unmixed nomadic herdsmanship and unmixed agriculture lies a whole spectrum of combinations which makes Iraq a living museum of nomad settlement. Pure camel-raising nomadism, confined to the Arabs of Iraq's western deserts and the Jazira, is comparatively rare and becoming rarer. Modern means of communication have diminished the trade in camels on which the major tribes depended, and the enforcement of governmental authority has deprived them of protection money and more violent sources of income. There is every inducement for the camel-herdsman to accept the humiliation of farming grain, then vegetables, and finally the despised tomato. The nomadic tribes that survive as such live much as did their ancestors. They move with the season between grazing grounds and water holes, to whose use they have a traditional right. From their animals they derive many of the necessities of life and obtain the rest from the settled areas in exchange for the animals and their products. The largest unit of instinctive loyalty is the tribe, which is regarded as having a basis of blood relationship. The shaikh of the tribe, drawn from one of its aristocratic houses, is its representative with other tribes and the government, orders its internal and external relations in consultation with the other tribal notables, and, to subsidise the guest tent he maintains on behalf of the whole tribe, draws certain dues from its members, all of whom have free access to him. The position tends to pass from father to son, but is held, as it must be if the tribe is to prosper, in consequence of personal qualities, and if these are lacking tribal opinion will force the succession along other lines. The semi-nomadic tribe-groups combine agriculture with sheep and goat breeding. Most of their component sections are settled, but some move their flocks to pasturage in the spring and early summer and later return to their settlements. Other Arab tribes are completely sedentary. By far the greater part of Iraqi's tribal population is in fact settled in villages. Its tribal coherence

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is less marked than in the nomadic tribes; and although the shaikh exercises tribal authority and tends among his tenants to be lawgiver, arbitrator, magistrate and tax-collector, he is also an independent and sometimes absentee capitalist, being not only the landlord but also the market and the supplier of capital. The peasant is not necessarily a resentful victim of oppression; he usually feels a certain tribal loyalty to the shaikh, regarding him rather as a patron and protector - not least against the government - than as a tyrant, and accepting the onerous terms of tenancy as part of the natural order of things. The system contains, indeed, an element of social security; miserable though the peasant's lot may be, neither his fellow-cultivators nor the shaikh himself will let him and his family starve. This relationship is still valid over the greater part of rural society, though a great many holdings are cultivated by independent farmers and their number is increasing steadily with the distribution of State land; there are suggestions, however, that it may gradually be modified. On the landlord's side we have noticed a move towards more efficient farming and perhaps a more enlightened outlook. He is in any case confronted with a rising tide of reformist opinion, from which, if of a younger, educated generation, he may not himself be immune. The peasant, for his part, is no longer isolated in rustic ignorance. Communications are improving. He can be informed and influenced by the radio, to some extent by political activists and most of all by his own relatives who have migrated to the towns and open his eyes to the advantages of another life. There are increasing signs of restlessness in the country-side, in some small degree political but mainly social and economic. It takes the form of general dissatisfaction with the peasant life when money can be made more easily in the towns, and of resentment against the social and economic domination of the landlord. Its intensity and manifestations vary from district to district; in some cases there is a spontaneous reference to the local administration of matters which would previously have been referred to the shaikh. With doubts of the traditional system implanted in his mind, and work in the towns or on development projects exercising their appeal, the cultivator will no longer defer unquestioningly to the shaikh's authority; and the systematic expansion of rural education that the government is planning will help to disrupt a social order that is outgrowing its utility. Much of what has been said of the Arab rural region applies in general to the Kurds of the north-east and extreme north but would require modification in detail to conform with their different tribal structure, historical background and geographical environment. Holdings are smaller than in the south and a high proportion of them are cultivated by independent farmers. The landlords (aghas) who nevertheless control

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much of the cultivated area are themselves largely tribal in organisation but have in some cases no tribal connexion with their cultivators, having imposed themselves as a military caste on a non-tribal agricultural population. Terms of tenancy are hard, but on the whole, perhaps, rather easier than in the south; and, divided and isolated as some of the population is in remote mountain valleys, it is unlikely that ideas of social change will influence it as rapidly. The Kurds also have their semi-nomads, whole tribes which, according to the season, move their flocks from the foothills of Iraq to fixed mountain pastures in Persia, leaving a few representatives on their Iraqi cultivation. Urban and tribal society are by tradition mutually exclusive, hostile and contemptuous, the townsman's contempt mixed liberally with fear. There has nevertheless been continuous economic contact between the two; some of the towns, indeed, contain what clearly were once tribal quarters. With the steady extension of governmental control and establishment of rural security since the First World War there has been increased intermingling. Once the administration had established itself in tribal eyes as a thing to be placated and cajoled the chiefs began to frequent the centres of administration and government. Sessions of Parliament kept tribal deputies for long periods in the capital and led some of them to buy houses there. The growing amenities of the town and a lessening devotion to tribal life combined to the same effect. The development of agriculture not only helped diminish tribal and urban prejudices but created common interests between tribal landlords and city merchants, carrying the former beyond mere sale and purchase to the acceptance of urban capital and urban partners. In the south the vicissitudes of sharecropping have driven sharecroppers in a steady flow to the towns, where they may constitute a large and undigested portion of the population. On the periphery of Baghdad's urban population, for example, is a tribal settlement of perhaps two hundred thousands immigrants, maintaining in social isolation its own village life and mores. In the cities the Iraqi Kingdom inherited a society which had changed little in centuries. There was an upper class of leading administrative and religious families, rarely of great antiquity though in some cases manifestly aristocratic; such, for example, were the families of the naqibs, particularly the ancient Gailanis of Baghdad, and of princes of the past, like the Jalilis of Mosul and the Kurdish Babans. Below them were the less distinguished men of religion in their grades, then the tradesmen of the bazaar, no longer organised in guilds, and the police and petty government employees. The upper class enjoyed inherited fortune, held land or engaged in commerce; Shi'is and members of the religious minorities were at various levels particularly active as business men. Beside these traditional social groups, imbued with the principles of

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their religion and with varying degrees of traditional learning, a new society began to develop in the second half of the nineteenth century, whose frontiers were to cross and confuse some of the existing divisions. Its distinguishing mark was a secular education imitated from the west, and it arose to meet the demands of a reformed administration and system of law and a western type of medicine and engineering. To meet similar demands and for other reasons, the Iraqi successor government adopted and extended a western type of education, with a corresponding enlargement of the new society. Membership of this society might be considered to depend on secondary education, which has become a watershed, determining culture, social habit, political attitude and economic function, though not necessarily wealth. On one side of the watershed lie the practical men, mostly illiterate but often well informed by radio news and newspaper recital, immersed in their work, conscious of their skill and imbued with shrewd common sense. In social loyalty they are hardly less compartmented than their fathers, owing it to family, town and town quarter, and religious sect. Beside the great mass of urban labour, divided among thousands of small and varied enterprises, the modern industrial establishments, and in particular the oil companies, the railways and the Port have begun to create a new working class, derived partly from existing urban occupations and partly from the rural population. Concentrated employment in modern industries tends to blur social divisions and encourage a consciousness of wider identity. The numbers affected are still, however, small, and labour organisations have had to face the existing social divisions, a marked individualism, and at times governmental repression. Especially where large companies provide housing estates for their employees the effect is sometimes to establish an independent new community, a new piece in the mosaic, rather than to promote the general solidarity of labour. Modern training and working environment also affect the workman's outlook in other ways. He is likely to have a sharpened awareness, to be more adaptable and progressive. On the other hand service in a large, impersonal organisation may disturb that harmony of life and emotion which is characteristic of traditional society. Religious belief may perhaps be unaffected; but the substitution of printed regulations for the personal relationship with a small employer or master craftsman may sometimes, in spite of good pay and conditions, cause an underlying dissatisfaction. On the other side of the educational watershed lie officialdom, the professions, politics and the office. This is a self-consciously white-collar world with some rudimentary tendency to a social cohesion bridging differences of religion, family, wealth and function. Birth in itself is no longer very significant except to those who boast it; wealth is of much

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greater importance, official position and connexion with the regime more important still. Economically this educated society is roughly divisible into three. There is a small upper class consisting of the distinct ministerial group we shall discuss in a political connexion, of the most senior civil servants and service officers and those with sources of income apart from their salaries, of rich business men and urban landholders, and of the most successful members of the professions. There is a middle class, also small, which lives more or less adequately if not comfortably by its own standards; it is composed of senior civil servants and service officers, higher teachers and ordinarily successful business and professional men. Below them lies the great mass of the educated public, the lower and lower-middle grades of the administration and services, the junior teachers, the part-time lawyers and newspaper editors and all the underemployed whom the educational system has created. These have been among the principle victims of rising prices during and after the Second War; a major factor of instability in the country has in fact been the divorce of intellectual dynamism and material well-being. Their penury has been emphasised by what they consider the growing ostentation of the upper class, to most of which they believe themselves intellectually superior. The example of luxury in the country itself, or in books and films, has created appetites which they have no hope of satisfying; they have similarly formed ideas of romantic relationships for which their society has so far made no provision. In their careers they have suffered from those traditional principles of loyalty which have not infrequently influenced professional advancement, not least in the administration. Psychologically and spiritually they, most of all, have been stricken with the malaise born partly of vacuum, partly of discord, which besets the modern Islamic world. Politically, as we shall see, these 'angry young men', considering themselves deprived of their due influence, have formed the great body of the opposition, the violence of their convictions perhaps sharpened by these many frustrations and by the nature of their education. The progress of national development is beginning to affect urban as well as rural society. Its direct benefit has so far gone mainly to engineering contractors, industrial capitalists and business men and to skilled and certain categories of unskilled labour. The bulk of educated society may not yet have derived much profit from it and may on the contrary have suffered from the effect on prices; but salary increases and housing schemes have alleviated its present condition and given it some assurance for the future, and development will in time create remunerative positions which it can hope and is indeed being trained to fill. And it enjoys no less than other classes the new urban amenities, better transport facilities and expanded social services. Movement between the various groups of society has so far been

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considerable, without, however, constituting a flux. Any reasonably intelligent boy can obtain a higher education at State expense and a clever boy is likely to secure a State or foreign scholarship to study abroad. In that case, given good furtune and possibly a certain influence he may rise to some of the highest positions of State. On the other hand his family may have neither a tradition of education or the financial means of dispensing with his labour; and if he receives his education in the country itself and has no outstanding advantages he will quite likely have exchanged reasonable prosperity as an artisan for white-collar under-employment. On the whole peasant families have tended to produce peasants, artisan families artisans, official and academic families officials and teachers, the most considerable change in occupation arising from the migration of peasants to the towns. As technical education is extended to meet the needs of development, it will possibly tend to confirm this continuity of occupation, but will offer improved skill, status and income within the occupation itself. An important social consequence of technical education is the creation of a new class of technologists and managers, who are enlarging the middle at the expense of the lower-middle class. Unlike the latter, they are not a class of frustration; they are moderately satisfied with their work, their status and their economy, and for this reason, and because of their different training and greater practical experience, have a different view of affairs. They are less interested in politics than the lawyers, and particularly in foreign politics; they would like to see Iraq internally strong before they plan her role on the international stage. Their criticism of government is on grounds less of politics than of technical and administrative efficiency. In sphere of administration and economics, indeed, they will supply one of the country's most pressing needs; politically they may well come to constitute a new element of stability.

THE FAMILY AND THE SEXES

The irreducible atom of traditional society was the family and for much of the population it retains its authority. For others modern education and foreign influences have weakened its ties; but although it may no longer be the prime focus of their loyalty it still commands their devotion and respect, serves as an instrument of mutual aid and, like friendship, imposes obligations which may outweigh those of profession or the State. Change, where it has occurred, has consisted in the departure of married children to homes of their own and in a lessening of parental authority, particularly in the choice of a wife or husband. The same factors of change are profoundly affecting the position of women.

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The Iraqi woman, like those of other Muslim societies, has exercised considerable influence, but largely from a position of seclusion. In rural society, indeed, polygamy, laborious work and some degree of segregation go with unveiling and a certain physical freedom, in which sexual freedom is not included; unchastity is apt to be requited with death. Among the Kurdish tribes women have from time to time risen to pre-eminent position, even to military command. In the towns, and especially among the upper and middle classes, where polygamy is now almost extinct, seclusion and veiling have been the custom, sanctified by a millenium of social habit. They are still observed in provincial towns, but in the major cities are beginning to pass away. The movement for emancipation started at the top of society, where there was more opportunity for foreign travel and for contact with resident foreigners. It has progressed farthest in Baghdad, where, in the households of a few of the younger Muslim Ministers, administrators and business men the position of the wife differs little from that of her English counterpart. She holds and attends mixed parties with her husband, joins social clubs, dances at club and charity balls, does her shopping bareheaded and in European dress and drives her own car. Between this small emancipated group and the still secluded women of conservative families there are many gradations. Outside the family circle some women attend only the most intimate of mixed parties, some only in the presence of foreigners; and although the face veil has practically disappeared comparatively few women will appear in public without the voluminous black silk 'abba that has survived it. The middle class is less enterprising, the lower educated classes almost as conservative as the working people. Although they profess the social and political theories of the west and deplore the existing social conventions, they are rarely prepared to disregard them, and criticise any colleague who does. Emancipation has demanded courage from wife and husband alike; public censure apart, ingrained feeling is so strong that even those enamoured of its theory may be acutely embarrassed by its practice. Education, foreign example and the substitution of the individual household for the family are changing the approach to marriage itself. It was traditionally a physical and economic relationship; parity of education is now making companionship possible, mainly in the upper and middle classes, where female education is most common. Where companionship exists the time devoted to it may nevertheless be small, the residue - as anywhere else - when the claims of business and society have been met. Even the most progressive and devoted couples spend much of their leisure in the company of their own sex, others virtually the whole of it. Except on the higher social levels the house is the women's place of meeting; many men return there only to eat and sleep, sometimes only

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to sleep. This does not prevent good relations between husband and wife, mutual respect and even considerable affection; but it does tend to deny a home. The choice of a wife is increasingly a matter for the individual. In the urban society of the past nothing was more subject to the authority of parents; husband and wife, often very young, were not permitted to see one another before marriage, though curiosity sometimes went to ingenious lengths of circumvention. Now the educated young man, given that he observes rules of social compatibility which would apply in many countries, has often almost complete freedom of choice and even of initiative, though he may still have to base the choice on hearsay rather than personal knowledge. Young Muslim men and women, except in very few families and in small, carefully chaperoned groups, may still not join in social activity together; but academic association in the mixed colleges is permitted and it is becoming more common for a young man to see and even speak to his wife before marriage, though rarely to know her very closely. It is nevertheless possible to form close attachments and maintain them surreptitiously by telephone, post and planned coincidental meeting; here and there young people are for the first time falling in love. The immediate result may be to sharpen their emotional problems, for marriage may be prevented by unequal social status or by other arrangements which the girl's parents may have made. The educated girl is less free than the boy. Her family are more likely than his to exercise the right of veto and compulsion. Usually she is accorded the privilege of a rather passive choice; her parents make suggestions which she is free to reject, and it is only after persistent rejection that pressure is applied. To girls influenced by films and novels this may be a frustrating procedure; most of them are, however, realistic about marriage. They appreciate that, until association is freer, happiness may lie rather in a list of candidates prepared by conscientious and indulgent parents than in personal choice based on the impressions and emotions of a few meetings. Among the uneducated and humbler educated classes of the town the girl is completely under parental control until she is married and the man, through intermediaries, chooses a wife on almost entirely practical grounds. Marriage between relatives is common; it is even commoner in the tribes, where a girl's first cousin traditionally has the right to marry her. In tribal custom runaway marriages may lead, as much as unchastity, to murder, although peace may be negotiated against an indemnity. With the acquisition of a new economic outlook shaikhs have tended to deny the claims of nomadic custom and to marry their daughters as peremptorily and prudently as a city grandee. Arbitrary divorce of a wife without reciprocal right is, like polygamy,

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now eschewed by educated society but still facilitated by the Islamic law of the land. The legal and political disabilities of women - the latter are shortly to be alleviated by the grant of the vote to educated women and perhaps their eligibility for parliamentary election - are a prime concern of the five federated women's organisations of Iraq. Led by women of character, culture and social standing they have fought for female rights with persistence, skill and the courage of personal example. Women of this quality are increasing in number. The Iraqi woman is by nature strong in character, intelligence and ability. Given education and responsibility she displays emotional balance, a keen intellect, a power of organization and command and a capacity for social service. In society she can be smart, sophisticated and amusing, at home she is a devoted mother and a good housewife, in politics often forthright to the point of aggressiveness. Behind the scenes until yesterday, today in public with an assurance as though of ages' experience, she is a powerful and indeed formidable force. She emerges from confinement under pressure, maintained by the restrictions that still exist. She is apt to approach any activity open to her with the intensity of a jihad. The Muslim girl is still, by public and family feeling, restricted in her occupation. She may teach or be a women's and children's doctor and now a social worker; but by exceptional power of will, which some have had, she can engage in almost any activity she wishes. One or two have been diplomats, one the head of a government office. Some have graduated highly from the Engineering College. Christians, less limited by the opinion of their communities, also become nurses, typists and clerks. In all these activities women are in energy, efficiency and undemanding adaptability redoubtable rivals to men. Iraqis are extremely fond of children, and educated parents are beginning to devote much time and thought to their upbringing. Childhood is not usually regarded as having significance in itself, but rather as a simple absence of adulthood. For a few years poor children play together in the streets, others in the household with whatever playthings come to hand - toys are becoming increasingly abundant - and then, almost without transition, they become socially adult, the poor when they start at an early age to work, the richer when they begin their secondary education. Until then they have been subject to no very rigid discipline; but when the brief period of childhood is past a discipline is indeed imposed, that of adult society, exercised through family, social convention and, for the student, not so much the school organisation as the student body itself, with its consciousness of status and its claim to a political and social role. The result is an early gravity and in some respects maturity, not less marked in the country-side than the town. The sons of many tribal landlords, indeed, Arab or Kurd, receive an excellent

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training in character, illiterate though some of them are; for in silent attendance at their fathers' audience chamber and later as their active deputies they learn to pass responsible judgment and exercise confident command. The absence, however, of a period of adjustment, in which child and adult can alternate, may have attendant disadvantages. The problems of adolescence are resolved rather by ignoring their existence, and adolescents who are incorporated in adult society are not unlikely to rebel against it. There is similarly no period of inutile discovery and experiment ; in life as in the school library young Iraqis have little time to browse, little chance to enrich their experience before it is frozen by the responsibilities of early adulthood.

DAILY LIFE

Outside the towns daily life has hardly felt the impact of the west. The tribal nomad or villager lives in the immemorial black tent or a simple dwelling of what material is available, mud or reeds or stones. His furniture may not exceed a mat, bedding, cooking and eating utensils and a wooden chest. He wears the traditional dress of his people. For the Arabs it is basically a long shirt, in which alone they tend their crops; it is supplemented with head cloth and encircling cord and, by those who can afford it, a woolen or camel hair cloak. Kurds wear a turban, short, tight jacket, waist sash and baggy or straight, wide trousers according to district, sometimes assuming features of Arab dress where Arabs are neighbours. The women of both races wear brightly coloured dresses; the Arabs cover dress and head with a black 'abba, the Kurds wear a skull cap or turban. Female dress accounts for most of Iraq's considerable importations of printed cotton and artificial silk. Fabrics are also imported for the men, in particular plain white cotton material. The cloak and rustic 'abba are still woven locally and for their distinctive costume the Kurds manufacture cloth of wool or goat hair, some of it richly dyed and delicately decorated. The shaikhs and aghas may have their cars, and town houses furnished in western style, and may even, while occupying them, wear western clothes; but on their estates or in the tents of their tribe most of them live simply, with only the fewest and most portable of foreign innovations. The mark of their position is the audience tent or chamber, where they spend their rural existence in tribal government and reception. In the cities material life tends to follow the educational watershed and the functional division that accompanies it. On the educated, whitecollar side there are more, on the uneducated, manual side less western

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externals; there is, however, a neutral zone where clerical and artisan incomes overlap. Members of the first group tend to live in the newer houses of the suburbs, to have furniture of a western type and to wear completely western dress. The poorer working families are usually concentrated in the older houses of the city centres and furnish them hardly more elaborately than the villager. Many of the older artisans and tradesmen wear the traditional tight turban and coat-like gown of the townsman, but western working clothes are quickly replacing them. Western hats, on the other hand, have never become popular among Muslims of either sex and the sidara, a usually black version of the army side cap which the first King Faisal introduced as the national male headdress, has practically disappeared in educated society except on ceremonial occasions and among elderly government officials. Of western innovations the cinema has to some extent altered the pattern of urban life; others have not, except in the richer families, changed more than its details, fitting neatly into the place of the old and themselves more modified than modifying. The radio is universal, but in the tea shops it has merely replaced the traditional reciter of epic. The country bus has nothing western European in its character, but is the traditional caravan compressed or the traditional caravanserai made mobile. Iraqi life is still marked at nearly all levels by a simplicity that approaches austerity. Among the rich western importations have, it is true, encouraged a more conspicuous luxury, but luxurious only in contrast with the general environment and even so in their entertainment rather than their domestic life. In their houses and their appointments it is by western standards a rather modest middle class state that most of them maintain. In hospitality Iraqis are the most generous of people; the peasant will kill his last lamb or chicken for the traveller, the townsman entertain his friends beyond his means. Hospitality is nevertheless offered without formality or ostentation, a pleasant characteristic of Iraqi life in general. Simplicity is nowhere more apparent than in the townsman's daily diet. The educated have adopted western utensils and table habits but are otherwise uninfluenced from abroad. Of the three daily meals the first commonly consists of tea, bread and cheese or cream, the others of the national dish of rice and vegetable stew - with or without meat and bread, fruit and tea, or a snack of bread, cheese and cucumber, kebabs, or various preparations of crushed wheat. Such a diet is considered adequate at most levels of society, but since the Second War was beyond the reach of the poorer working families and is only now being restored as wages rise. For the very poor the staples have been bread, tea and dates. The bread, of wheat or barley, is unleavened and

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made in large, thin, pliable discs which can be eaten pleasantly unaccompanied; it also serves conveniently as a spoon, to be consumed with each mouthful. It is at receptions and parties that the full resources of the country's cuisine appear: lamb roasted and stuffed with rice in the tribal manner, Tigris fish roasted before a wood fire and flavoured with savoury sauce, and numerous Turkish dishes whose delicate perfection may require hours of preparation. The traditional drinks, apart from tea and coffee, are sour milk, cinnamon and lime tea, fruit juice, and date 'araq, which is responsible for what little drunkenness exists. Wine is made by Christians of the north but is not widely consumed. Some of it is very palatable - not, however, the wine that is marketed. Of foreign drinks the American 'colas' have taken pride of place in summer; their advertisements have become part of the urban scene, their bottling a national industry and their relationship an inspiration for political cartoonists. Beer of excellent quality is made in the country and has established itself mainly among the educated classes. Whisky is the social drink of the rich and is taken by the political opposition as a symbol of its anathemas, just as it takes the cocktail (which usually means whisky or lemon squash) to symbolise wealthy mixed society. Urban leisure is still spent on the principle that men and women, even if married, are socially divided, mixed society and companionship in marriage, where they exist, providing an addition rather than an alternative to the traditional pattern. The house serves, as we have seen, mainly for feminine association. Among wealthier women this may be frequent and well organised. There are card parties and parties where singers entertain the guests, and some women hold an open reception on a fixed day of the month. A few distinguished men hold a similar weekly reception and others keep open court or receive by appointment; and men of the middle classes also use their houses for occasional entertainment, while passing most of their leisure in other places. The places at which men gather vary with the social group. The leisure life of the working and lower clerical classes is based on the mahalla, the town quarter, and is determined by the nature of their work. Shopkeepers and craftsmen work late and receive their friends on their business premises, which are usually separate from their dwellings. Others frequent their mahalla tea house. This is not only their club but their home, which they visit informally and often in domestic undress, leaving their own cramped houses to squalling children and their wives' female relations. It offers refreshment and the nargila, company, radio and newspapers; and vendors are ready with food. The radio is replacing some of the traditional pastimes, but they are not altogether dead. Dominoes and backgammon are universal, and during the festive nights of Ramadhan, when tea houses stay open until two or three in the morn-

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ing, their patrons play traditional games of the type of hunt-the-ring. Cards are forbidden, but there is mild betting on other games. Cockfighting is occasionally revived, but ram-fighting, once common, and combats of sword and singlestick have passed away, and the epic recitals of 'Antar and the Bani Hilal are passing too. Some tea shops are the meeting places of nightingale fanciers, who debate the training, performance and market price of their birds. Friends may also meet at the mahalla barber's, and in Baghdad groups of artisans walk outside the city to discuss and to sing the traditional and intricate Iraqi maqam under expert guidance. Members of the same trade, especially among the Shi'is, at times join in an excursion to some holy place, thus preserving memories of the former guilds. At the other social extreme are the better hotels and in Baghdad and Basra the western cabarets, where the rich meet habitually and others when they can afford it. The upper class spends its evenings alternatively in the expensive social clubs, male or mixed according to the society, the middle class in the increasing number of professional clubs. Business men and lawyers regularly receive social calls in their offices not only in the evening but throughout the working day; and daytime visiting is a familiar embarrassment to the conscientious civil servant. Students and lecturers meet separately in their colleges after hours. Between these private and more expensive public meeting places on the one hand and the life of the mahalla on the other there is a range of minor hotels, restaurants, central and suburban tea and coffee shops and oriental cabarets which the educated and other classes frequent according to income, taste and social preference. For some group or other all these are clubs. Iraqis like to have a circle of friends whom they can meet without formality or prearrangement. A popular pastime in clubs and private houses, particularly among the upper classes, is card-playing; Iraqis engage with equal zest in games of skill, in which they excel, and those of chance. The element of chance exerts a particular attraction for them, a characteristic demonstrated by the sale of lottery tickets in the streets and by the large crowds which attend the Baghdad races. In the latter case public interest may owe something to the important role which the horse has played in Arab history and social life. With the advent of the motor car and the disappearance of the foray, the Arab horse has lost most of its traditional importance for the tribes (some of whom, however, still guard jealously their own pure strain of mare), and it now owes its preservation in Iraq mainly to horse racing, which is highly organised and of some economic importance. There are two Racing Companies in Baghdad and meetings, held twice a week, draw an attendance, according to the day, of some nine or fifteen thousand. The turnover at the totalisators of the two companies averages

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two million dinars a year. Racing is regulated by law and supervised by the Iraqi Turf Club, with which some 4,000 pure Arab horses are registered.

CULTURE

In modern times it is the life of the educated classes of Iraq which has perhaps been poorest in variety. Tribal society, with its economic selfsufficiency and social complication, has possessed a large body of diverse technical skill and natural and tribal lore. The urban craftsman has had his trade, the education of the bazaar, his hobbies, pastimes and favourite stories and his recurring family and religious ceremonies. Many of the educated have by contrast lacked a dimension. A very few young men who could afford it have collected stamps, taken photographs or driven sports cars. More, not usually the best educated, have taken an interest in football, wrestling or other sport, and card-playing and the races have also had their devotees. But the leisure occupation of the overwhelming majority, and particularly of the students, has been the discussion of politics, conducted in teashop, hotel and club, and varied on the rather lower levels by attendance at the cinema or oriental cabaret. Among these classes there has always been a true intelligentsia which has pursued political and other speculation on a high intellectual level, and a body of scholars, professional or amateur, who wrote on the geography, customs and atiquities of the country and, in certain aristocratic cases, on family history. More, indeed, was written than published. There has been no private and until recently no governmental patronage; the printing and sale of books has consequently been the responsibility of the author, with distribution by no means so organised or demand so great that he could usually recover his expenses. The domestic market has been small, smaller still since the Jewish emigration of the early 1950's; and foreign markets, even had the means of reaching them existed, have been dominated by the better printed books of Egypt and the Lebanon. Topical expositions of political or social problems have been in greater demand and more often published than academic works, sometimes only to meet the censor's ban. The Press has suffered from similar and additional disabilities. Small circulation in a country of limited literacy has been reduced still further by the reading habits of the public; a newspaper is regularly passed between friends, read at a tea shop or hired out to its patrons by an enterprising vendor. Even with advertisements few papers can support themselves, let alone their owners; the rest are run as a sideline by a lawyer-politician or business man, or depend on a subsidy from the govern-

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ment, a political party or private individuals, who sometimes subscribe for a single panegyric issue. Subsidies make it possible to earn a living by journalism, even if publication is intermittent; but many newspapers are published rather for the political and social contacts they promote or out of political conviction. In spite of these discouragements the country has sometimes had as many as forty or fifty newspapers, most of which have succumbed, within a few weeks of appearance, to lack of capital or to official censorship; two or three, however, have survived for decades. Few of them are newspapers in the literal sense or even the entertainment sheets which sometimes pass as such elsewhere. Their existence is too precarious for most of them to employ a staff of reporters within the country or to subscribe to a foreign news service, the items of news they publish being gathered perforce from radio, foreign newspapers or the governmental Department of Guidance. (There are, however, notable exceptions; one newspaper even maintains correspondents in European capitals). It is indeed to the radio or foreign Press that the public tends to turn for its factual information, reading the newspapers rather for their political comment, which is esteemed in proportion to its eloquence, wit, and audacity in attack. Distinguished names in current Iraqi journalism include Yahya Qasim of Al-Sha'b, Salman al-Safwani of Al-Yaqdha, 'Adil 'Auni of Al-Hawadith, Jibran Melkun and his sons of Al-Akhbar, Taufiq al-Sim'ani of Al-Zaman and the author-editor Ja'far al-Khalili. The celebrated Rufa'il Butti of Al-Bilad died in 1957. Many of the political leaders have also earned a reputation as able journalists. A number of newspapers express in their writing and their cartoons the dry humour for which Baghdad is famous; the newspaper of the writer Khalid al-Durra was long applauded for its pithy cartoons, and the weeklies Habazbuz of Hajj 'Abud al-Kirkhi and Qarandal of Sadiq alUzdi have been notable for their political and social wit. In addition to the Arabic Press there is a long-established daily newspaper in English, The Iraq Times. Aesthetic activity was long confined to poetry and the traditional forms of music. Between the two wars Iraq produced two of the greatest contemporary Arab poets, Ma'ruf al-Rasafi and Muhammad Mahdi al-Jawahiri, but apart from poetry the significant literary output was limited; it included the novels of Ja'far al-Khalili and Anwar Sha'ul and the earlier work of Dhu'l-Nun al-Ayyub. The Second War was followed by a perceptible intellectual and artistic awakening. Intellectually Iraq can now claim a growing dlite, educated first in foreign universities and now increasingly at home. Academic theses have been published in some quantity with governmental support, and as research establishes itself in the colleges they will clearly multiply; there are also articles of quality in various professio-

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nal and technical periodicals. The same 61ite is beginning to provide an appreciative and critical public, which never before existed, not only for foreign literature and art but also for the growing body of young Iraqi writers and artists. To its aesthetic education the British and other cultural institutes have made a devoted contribution; and more serious art teaching in the schools is no doubt having its effect. It was with the Second War, indeed, that Iraqi prose literature began on any scale. Its form and style have been moulded by western influences, absorbed directly or through the writers of other Arab countries. Much of the initial inspiration was also from the west, consisting in that newly awakened social sense and eargerness for reform which were no less fundamentally to affect the political scene. The result has been the short stories of several young writers - among whom are 'Abdul-Malik Nuri, Fu'ad Takarli, Murtadha Shaikh Qadum, 'Abdul-Wahhab Amin, Shakir Khasbak and Jabra Jabra, who is also poet and artist - and a new impulse in the case of certain of the older ones. Most of the writing is realistic and imbued with political and social purpose; this has gained it a certain popularity outside the intellectual elite. A modern school of poetry has arisen beside it to complement, though not replace, the traditional models; it is marked not only by greater freedom of form but also by the current realism and social awareness. Plays are also being written and occasionally produced; though there is no modern professional theatre there are a number of private dramatic societies, schools and colleges which regularly produce plays, and dramatic art is taught in the Baghdad Institute of Fine Arts. In literature, as also in the visual arts, young women are as interested and talented as the men, and have won wide Arab recognition with a poetess, Nazik Mala'ika, and a writer of short stories, Safira Jamil Hafidh. As social outlook changes they will no doubt turn to the theatre; at present few families will permit their daughters to act in public. Of the non-Arab communities only the Kurds have produced a significant - if limited - literature in their own language. They have a long oral tradition of epic and lyric poetry and since the First War have developed the Kurdish dialects of Iraq and particularly that of Sulaimaniya into a flexible instrument for modern writing. There have been collections of modern verse, academic and literary prose in some quantity and a small Kurdish Press. Kurdish broadcasts and magazines which were sponsored by the Allies during the Second War and prepared with loving care by Kurdish scholars such as Taufiq Wahbi, not only endowed the written language with a new richness and subtlety but also secured for the same favoured dialect a wider literary currency. Education in the Kurdish areas has had a varying effect. On its higher levels it has familiarised many Kurds with Arabic and has brought some of them into

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the main, Arabic-speaking stream of national life; but, being on its lower levels exclusively in Kurdish, it has given much larger numbers a greater command over their own language and a pride in it which both nourishes and is nourished by Kurdish nationalist feeling. While these sentiments remain so will a Kurdish literature. Painting and sculpture were similarly a direct product of the Second War, when a group of young Iraqis fell under the influence of Allied artists in the country, some of them later to study art in Europe. Others were moved by the growing interest to enter the Institute of Fine Arts, and in time groups of artists began to hold exhibitions. They have created a serious public, whose wealthier members have become ready patrons of their work. Among those to win - in some cases international recognition are Jawad, Lorna and Naziya Salim, of whom Jawad is also a sculptor, 'Ata Sabri, Jabra Jabra, Mahmud Sabri, Isma'il Shaikhli, Fadhil 'Abbas and Faraj Abbo. Their work cannot yet be said to constitute a peculiarly Iraqi art. Art, unlike Arabic literature, has had no continuous tradition in the country. A tradition will no doubt evolve naturally, as foreign models are subjected to internal influences; it might also be created artificially through psychological identification with the past, though that cannot be achieved by mere act of will. The problem of the Iraqi architect is different. There is a continuous tradition of Muslim public and domestic architecture, but it does not conform to the material requirements and the spirit of the new age. Here it is also premature to speak of a modern Iraqi style, though peculiarities of climate and material have from the first imposed their demands on design and construction. Within the house, furniture is for the first time being designed by artists with the same reference to climate and material, and upper and middle class homes are beginning to display a conspicuously modern taste. Artists and architects are already influencing the design of schools; perhaps they will also turn their attention to the tea houses, so that the young may not only have their minds moulded in tasteful surroundings but also pass their leisure in them as they grow up. The music of the country has a vigorous tradition. Although tea shop concerts are no longer fashionable, music is kept alive in its various forms on religious occasions, at weddings and other celebrations, in the oriental cabarets and now also by radio and television. Its appeal is universal and certain types of western music are almost equally popular, particularly that of South America, which has certain similar characteristics. Western orchestral music is gaining a wide circle of educated adherents. Concerts of visiting musicians are well attended and there are a number of private orchestras, mainly Armenian, as well as a national orchestra, whose conductor has performed with acclaim in the Albert Hall. Outside the circle of musicians and a small section of the intellectual elite detailed

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knowledge of western music hardly exists. Technical appreciation of traditional Iraqi forms is found mainly among working men, though a few intellectuals have studied them seriously. It is as a purveyor of music that the radio earns its greatest popularity. In this the national studios, owned and controlled by the State, serve the masses well enough; but they have yet to plan programmes which can satisfy the educated public or compete with Egyptian broadcasts. In the mechanically competent television station which has recently been installed the problem of programmes is still more difficult and has so far been solved by copious use of films; the most useful transmissions have perhaps been those to schools. Of all Iraq's aesthetic accomplishments since the Second War the most spectacular has been the most recent: the production of excellent films. First came a documentary series about the country, made by the Iraq Petroleum Company, whose systematic training of Iraqi technicians may have helped create a national film industry. At the same time other Iraqis were trained abroad; of these some are now staffing the audiovisual services of the State education department while others have made two admirable feature films. These won an immediate success, with the ordinary public for their realistic treatment of social problems, and with the connoisseurs for their high artistic merit. It would be gratifying if the government were moved by such private achievement to give still more encouragement to scholarship and the arts, for it is through these, as much as by material triumphs, that it will establish Iraq's position among Arab nations. Some of the remarks offered in this chapter have been of universal application; others refer rather to the Muslim majority and adjustment must be made for the other religious communities. By the terms of the constitution all Iraqis are equal before the law, whatever their religion; constitutional equality has not, however, been followed by complete social integration, the extent of the divergence varying with the social group. Among the working classes there is often a physical division, for cultivators of different faiths usually concentrate in separate villages and town labour in separate mahallas. Separation has been confirmed by a certain prejudice or antipathy. Of the Muslim sects the Shi'i could look back on centuries of underprivilege at the hands of the Sunni Turks, and both sects tend to regard the other as heterodox, while sharing a consciousness of superiority over other religions. Christians and Jews, on their side, have tended to combine a wariness of Islam in its less tolerant moments with a pride at their own greater literacy and an equal conviction of religious worth. Among the educated public contact between the communities ranges from self-conscious association

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at work and complete isolation after it to the professional and social unity of the richer, more progressive business and professional groups; a typical attitude is one of conscious denial of difference and subconscious acceptance of it. It is still almost impossible for a Muslim girl to marry a Christian who refuses to change his creed; and between an educated Sunni and Shi'i, neither of them a practising Muslim and each a fervent Arab nationalist, the religious prejudice of a previous age may be replaced by a hint of political suspicion. The instinct of communal cleavage has been confirmed by centuries of administrative practice; for in the Ottoman Empire the religious communities constituted small vassal nations, responsible to the government through their own religious heads. Between communities with so individual a history there is, not surprisingly, a difference of general attitude and social habit. This is a further impediment to communication, which is being gradually overcome by education, economic interest and social change. Christian and Jewish society permit a mixing of the sexes, at any rate within the circle of personal acquaintance, and are based on a home life which does not differ radically from our own. Their tastes, interests and outlook have tended, income for income, to be more western than among Muslims. There has been longer association with the west, on the Christian side religious, on the Jewish commercial, and both have a longer tradition of education abroad. For a time, moreover, their communities were provided with more modern and relatively more abundant educational facilities than the Muslims; and in the towns they have tended not only to practise the professions but also to have a large proportion of business in their hands and to form a significant section of what could be called the middle class. Much of what has been said about Iraqi upbringing, education and jejuneness of life does not apply to them; in different degrees they have long had literary aesthetic interests, mostly derived from the west, and the Jews in particular have maintained a varied intellectual life. The expansion of a Muslim 61ite will lead to greater intellectual and aesthetic uniformity; and on the level of the State colleges there has already been a large measure of intellectual integration, for the religious communities have not provided their own facilities for higher education. The gradual thaw in Muslim social life will also draw the communities closer. Another factor of integration is the lessening spiritual and doctrinal hold of religion on the educated public. The breakdown of the Ottoman Sunni caliphate has been reflected in the smaller sphere of every other community. Many intellectuals now tend to profess agnosticism and to view religion rather in its historical perspective, as the expression of material forces. In the present age they are apt to regard it as obscurantist and, if they are politically inclined, even as an instrument of reaction or of

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imperialist 'divide and rule'; Iraqis of any sect should, they believe, put the cause of progress, independence and democracy above mere religious creed. Muslims have probably gone farther in admitting doubt than the other communities, to whom religious cohesion may seem to guarantee their continued identity. A minority of educated Muslims still perform the ritual practices their religion enjoins, and it is almost inconceivable that any political movement should attract them by sole appeal to religious feeling. The Muslim Brotherhood has notably failed to win adherents. But a religion like Islam cannot be jettisoned as easily as a dogma or ritual; its moral and social instincts adhere more closely and influence even its deniers in ways of which they are unconscious. Nor are denials very loudly voiced. It would take courage to publish a criticism of Islam or even, in the course of scholarship, an unorthodox interpretation of Islamic history. The men of religion, though they have lost their positive hold over the educated population, still command some power of veto. Despite the growing force of modern education they are still trained in the traditional Islamic sciences at the Sunni and Shi'i religious schools; in Najaf, indeed, Shi'ism still maintains its medieval university. They still publish their works of religious exegesis, faithful to the canons of a scholarship that is sundered by centuries and a whole mode of thought from the new generation. There are still Muslim charitable societies which support orphanages and other good works. And Iraq still preserves her religious (Shari'a) law, however limited in scope, retains a governmental department to administer mosques and religious endowments, and continues by her constitution to be a Muslim State. For the uneducated majority, and for many women of all classes, religion is still a reality and a necessity. The mystical brotherhoods of Islam still attract a small number of novices and the Shi'i masses are still moved to exaltation at the more vehement of their annual ceremonies. But for most of the ordinary people religion has usually a quieter significance; they seek in it something to sustain them and give colour* meaning and coherence to the life they live. Nothing in life escapes it; but it is not so much a code of prohibitions as a habit of action, speech and thought, a rich body of familiar duties, observances and enjoyments that is coterminous with life itself. Educated society, which accepts so much of it because it is unaware of the acceptance, has still to provide, a substitute.

Κ. W. Morgan (ed.) THE LEVANT*

The article from Morgan describes somewhat historically the religious composition of Syria, Jordan, Palestine, Lebanon, Iraq and Egypt and its relationship to political control.

The Levant includes the Arab countries north of the Arabian Peninsula, «xcept Iraq - that is, Syria, Jordan, Palestine, and Lebanon. The Arabs in this area form a homogenous group with a Sunni majority except in Lebanon which, like a Persian carpet, is made up of a colorful mixture of all the creeds and sects to be found in the Middle East. The Arabs completed the conquest of the Levant within a few years of the death of the Prophet, their surprising success made possible by the inspiration of their new faith which filled their souls with confidence, and by the decline of the power of Persia and Byzantium as a result of their perpetual wars against each other. Since the population of this region was chiefly of true Arab stock they received the Muslim forces as kinsmen rather than foreigners. The Christians did not find Islam a strange religion for it upheld the mission of Christ and urged the following of his Book. The Qur'än says, "And thou wilt find the nearest of them in affection to those who believe (to be) those who say: Lo! We are Christians. That is because there are among them priests and monks, and because they are not proud". (Surah V, 82). * Kenneth W. Morgan (ed.), Islam. The Straight Path (Islam interpreted by Muslims) (Ronald Press Co., New York, 1958), pp. 231-241. K. W. Morgan is Professor of Religion and Director of the Division of Humanities at Colgate University.

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For almost a century after the death of Ali the Umayyads ruled from Damascus, giving to the Caliphate a royal character which was not found in the earlier years when the power centered in the Arabian Peninsula. Then the Caliphate moved to Baghdad under the Abbasids for five centuries and the Levant was ruled by a succession of dynasties - the Ayyubids, the Mamluks, the Turks, and in 1339 (A.D. 1920) came occupation by Western powers which continued until the end of the Second World War. The majority of the people of the Levant are Sunnis who are united in their beliefs concerning the fundamentals of Islam and the consequences. City-dwellers usually follow the school of Imam Abu Hanifa in their interpretation of the consequences - the code of laws - while the rural population usually follows Imam Shafi'i. However, the distinction between the schools is so subtle that most Muslims of today hardly know which of the four schools of law they follow and are content to be known as Muslim Sunnites. In religious courts the judge usually passes judgment according to the canonical interpretation of the school of law which the suitors follow. In civil courts, however, the judge applies the civil code without making any distinction between citizens because of their religion or sect. Syria is a parliamentary republic with its capital at Damascus, where it has been since the rule of the Umayyads. The great mosque at Damascus is still called the Ummayyad Mosque after the dynasty which established it. Syrians are noted for their strong Arab nationalism, their religious zeal, commercial ingenuity, intelligence, and love of knowledge. Their university at Damascus has faculties of letters, sciences, medicine, pharmacy, and law; the university at Aleppo has a faculty of engineering, and at Salamiya they have a faculty of agriculture. In the Hamah region near Salamiya is a group of the Isma'ili sect with about twenty-three thousand followers, all paying allegiance to the Agha Khan as their spiritual leader. Salamiya has been one of the main centers of the Isma'ilis since the early days and is still important for that sect even though the Agha Khan does not use it for his headquarters. In Jabal ad-Druz there are some thirty-one thousand followers of the Druze sect, of the same beliefs as the Druzes of Lebanon. At Latakia there are some 356,000 Nusairis who at one time were an extremist branch of Shi'a but are now returning to a more moderate position. The Isma'ilis trace the continuing succession of their Imams from Isma'il, the son of the sixth Imam of the Shi'ites. The believe that the Qur'än is God's revelation but they interpret it in their own way, which is not secretive and allegorical as with the Druzes, but is philosophical according to the reasoning of their leaders. Second in importance to the Qur'än is the book Brethren of Serenity, which they recite as part of

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their prayers. Their living Imam is infallible and is aided by a number of missionaries who lead the faithful and explain their religion to them. They keep the five pillars of Islam but emphasize deep philosophical contemplation in prayer, fasting, and pilgrimage as did the Mu'tazilites with whom they agree in considering God far above having any limiting attributes. The Druzes parted company with the Isma'ilis in the time of al-Hakimbi'amr-Illah the Fatimite (died 411; A.D. 1020) when they claimed that the Imamate ended with him, while the rest of the Isma'ilis believe that the Imamate continued. The differences between the Druzes and Isma'ilis have increased since that time, with the addition of a mixture of Greek, Persian, and Indian philosophy and mysticism to Druze beliefs. The Druzes believe that God was incarnated in the Imam just as He was in the prophets, that the Imam is infallible, that creation came about through a series of emanations, that after death souls are reincarnated in other bodies, and that holy jurisprudence changes with the succession of the prophets. They accept the Qur'än as inspired but have their own secret commentaries on it, which they received from their Imams. They tend to overlook most of the Muslim devotional practices and to emphasize the ethics of love and truthfulness. It is interesting to note that once when a number of young Druzes who had moved to America asked a Druze scholar what they should study to understand their religion he replied that they should go back to the Qur'än which is the source of all Islam. An obscure sect found in Syria is called Nusairi after Muhammad Ibn Nusayr who was originally a follower of the eleventh Shi'a Imam but later dissented and proclaimed the doctrine that the Imam is a divine incarnation. The series of Imams continues to the present, according to the Nusairis. They perform all of the Muslim devotions, but it is said that this is only a veil hiding their true convictions, which are flagrant contradictions of Islam, even including belief in a trinity made up of the spirit of God (Ali), the outer form (Muhammad), and the propagator of the shari'a (Salman al-Farisi). Many of these sects have recently tended toward a critical study of their beliefs and a concern for the spiritual life of their followers. There are hopeful signs of an attempt to bridge the differences between the sects by means similar to those encouraged by the Society for the Reconciliation of Muslim Sects which was established a few years ago in Cairo. Since the differences between Sunnis and Shi'ites are political rather than doctrinal, and all of these sects were originally Muslim, it can be expected that as the fanaticism and racial antagonisms of the ages of degeneration disappear there will be even stronger tendencies toward reconciliation of their differences. In Jordan and Palestine the Muslims are Sunnis who hold the same

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convictions and follow the same devotions and practices as do the Muslims of Syria. Their many family ties and common customs bind these people closely to the people of Syria. The Bedouins here, as in Arabia, tend to follow tribal customs rather than Muslim jurisprudence and know little of religion beyond the recital of words they have memorized but scarcely comprehend. They are chiefly concerned with deriving a scanty living from the desert; for them, water is often more important than religion. The Arabs of Palestine are mostly the descendants of pilgrims, visitors, and refugees who sought a haven in the sacred land which is the home of the Mosque of the Rock and the Aqsa Mosque which is venerated by all Muslims as second only to the Ka'ba as a sanctuary. Under the Ayyubids and the Mamluks, Palestine attained a high degree of prosperity which made possible the creation of numerous schools. The remnants of the schools which once surrounded the Aqsa Mosque still stand today with their huge ornate iron gates. Just before the First World War the Ottoman governor of Palestine brought in teachers from all over the Muslim world to create a university designed to be a small Azhar, but it did not survive the Turkish withdrawal. During the mandate after the First World War a number of schools and colleges were established, raising the cultural level of the country, but the budget for education was limited and attempts to introduce technical and industrial training were curtailed, forcing students to go to Cairo, Beirut, and the West for advanced education. Students of religion went to Al Azhar in Cairo, the foremost Muslim university.

IRAQ

When the Caliphate moved to Baghdad in the second century (eighth century A.D.) one of the most outstanding cultural centers of the world was created. Baghdad became the melting pot where Muslim culture was mixed with the ancient Greek culture and with the cultures of Iran, India, and China. In this atmosphere of stimulating cultural interaction was laid the basis of Muslim theology, philosophy, linguistics, and letters as well as chemistry, mathematics, medicine, architecture, and astronomy. For five hundred consecutive years the flourishing of Muslim culture made Baghdad the lighthouse of knowledge for the whole world. Two of the greatest universities in the history of education were established there and all branches of knowledge grew from the study of religion and flourished in the service of religion. In the Abbasid period Muslim culture became society-oriented, with emphasis on such subjects as the sciences and engineering and architec-

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ture; but no contradiction was felt between these fields and religion, for all scholars combined religious knowledge with mastery of other fields of learning. During the same period, Muslim culture, although it did not initiate the tendency, turned toward the development of the arts which are dependent upon the existence of a wealthy leisured class, as has happened in the West recently. Muslims became engrossed in the study of music, the art of story-telling, and exerted great efforts to perfect the art of writing prose and poetry. They revelled in performance of shadow plays, imported from China. Since religion did not demand austerity such pleasureseeking was tolerated. It was not to be wondered at that such a religious figure as al-Jahiz should write about singing, wine drinking, and jokes. In the field of religious research new questions were raised concerning matters which had formerly been blindly accepted without rational analysis. Questions about the nature of God, the nature of the Qur'än, the Other World, punishment and reward, predestination, and the whole realm of metaphysics were fervently disputed everywhere. This tremendous intellectual energy which was released under the protection of religion was brought to a disastrous end by the Mongol invasion in the seventh century (thirteenth century A.D.) when Baghdad was destroyed, its books burned, and its inhabitants slaughtered. The Caliph moved from Baghdad to Cairo and the glory of Iraq was irretrievably lost. Under the later Ottoman rule the Muslim culture in Iraq reached its lowest level. It is only since the First World War that there has been a revival in Iraq. Today there is a university in Baghdad with faculties in the sciences and letters, and religious schools similar to the old Azhar exist in Najaf and Karbala for Shi'ites and in Baghdad for the Sunnis. The inhabitants of Iraq are divided today about equally between the Shi'a and Sunni sects, with most of the Shi'ites in the south and the Sunnis in the north. Every effort is made by the government to persuade the younger generation to disregard their sectarian differences. The Iraq of today is far behind the Iraq of the past. Young men who have graduated from the modern civil schools, and those who have gone abroad for study, are interested in modern sciences and accept the modern scientific outlook, while those who studied in the old style religious schools are still mainly engrossed in traditional religious learning. There has rarely been a thinker who had familiarity with both fields and could attempt a synthesis which would open up new intellectual horizons as happened during the Abbasid age. The fundamental problem in Muslim culture, not only in Iraq but in the whole Muslim world, is that the political and social conditions which are necessary for the development of a culture have not existed. The social insecurity, which results from foreign rule and the foreign pressure which

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are effective so long as the Arab world is broken into small states with an average population of one to five millions, makes it impossible for Islamic culture to flower as it did in the days of the Abbasids.

EGYPT

The Arabs invaded Egypt early in the first century of the Hijrah, starting a gradual process of Arabization and the spread of Islam which continued until Arabic became the language of the people and Christians became a minority. The Islamic culture of Egypt was similar to the culture of the rest of the Muslim world. For about a century Egypt was under the Umayyads; then the Abbasids ruled the country. The Fatimids held the power in Egypt in the fifth and sixth centuries of the Hijrah (eleventh and twelfth centuries A.D.), giving way to the Ayyubids for more than a century ; the Mamluks then seized the power and held it until the Ottoman Turks established their rule in the tenth century (sixteenth century A . D . ) . For the past century and a half until quite recently Egypt was dominated by Western powers. During the rule of the Fatimids, Shi'a doctrines were spread in Egypt and the Druze sect came into being. The Ayyubids were Sunnis whose strong opposition to the Druzes drove them out of Egypt to their present settlements in Syria and Lebanon. Since the time of the Ayyubids Egypt has been entirely Sunni. The most important event during the Fatimid rule was the founding of Al Azhar University in 362 (A.D. 972) in Cairo. Azhar, the oldest university in the world, has played a decisive part in the history of Muslim civilization, not only in the Arab countries, but throughout all the nonArab Muslim world as well. For centuries it has served as the main center for the study of Islamic doctrine and as a meeting place for Muslim students from all over the world who come to receive training for careers as judges, jurists, and scholars; above all, it is a great mosque where prayers are said, and Friday sermons are preached to the assembled worshipers and to the thousands who hear them over the radio. The Azhar's traditional pattern of instruction was for the students to choose their teachers according to their inclinations and the standards they had achieved, continuing their studies for an indeterminate time with no examinations until they were ready to graduate. Recently it has been divided into two departments with the general department continuing the old system and a special department which is composed of faculties of theology, jurisprudence, and the Arabic language, to each of which is attached a number of primary and secondary schools. In the special department students are taught modern subjects with a defined curricu-

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lum, given annual examinations, required to specialize and submit a dissertation, and awarded academic degrees. Some of the teachers have studied in the West, notably the present Rector, who is a graduate of a French university with a high degree. The present enrollment at Al Azhar University includes several thousands students from foreign countries. Although Egypt is entirely Sunni and most of the people are followers of the Hanafi school, Azhar teaches the four schools without distinction, and the religious courts pass judgment according to the religious school of the defendant. During the Ottoman rule Muslim culture declined in Egypt because of the belief of the rulers that the study of philosophy, geography, mathematics, and related fields would lead to heresy. In the beginning of the last century a modernist movement emerged, encouraged by the Egyptians' desire to attain independence of the Ottoman Empire, and by their new ties established with the West as a result of the opening of the Suez Canal. During this time Egypt continued to be a center for continuing cultural and commercial emigrations from neighboring Arab countries as well as a crossroads for the infiltration of Western culture - an infiltration which remained within the bounds imposed by the desire to maintain the Arabic and Islamic character of the culture of Egypt. During the last century two men appeared who were destined to change the direction of Islamic culture - Jamal ad-Din al-Afghani (died 1315; A.D. 1897) and Muhammad Abduh (died 1323; A.D. 1905). Jamal adDin was the man who awakened spiritual consciousness wherever he went in the Muslim world. He directed attention to the Muslim legacy in philosophy and to the impact of Western culture. Political problems, however, dominated his thinking. His disciple, Muhammad Abduh, followed in his steps by beginning his career with an interest in politics, but soon turned to cultural concerns. Muhammad Abduh was a true genius whose talents extended to almost all spheres of life and whose activities touched many countries of the Muslim world. In the spiritual sphere he attempted to rejuvenate Islam by a clarification of its fundamental principles and an elucidation of its doctrines in modern terms. He refuted the attacks of Western scholars against Islam by showing that there is no contradiction between Islam and reason; rather, that for Islam reason is the key to faith in God. In literature he delivered Arabic style from its ornate redundancies, setting the literary form which was followed by newspapers and essayists from that time on. He encouraged the revival and printing of old Islamic manuscripts and the introduction of some of the literary classics into the scholastic circles of the Azhar. In the social sphere he persuaded the people to establish and use organized charities instead of relying on

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haphazard private acts of charity. In politics he advocated the democratic system. No man of his stature and talents has since come to the force. Another influence of great importance in the cultural life of Egypt was the establishment of the Egyptian University shortly before the First World War. This university has grown to include faculties of medicine, pharmacy, engineering, agriculture, commerce, law, and letters. The growing desire for education which it has stimulated led to the establishment of another university in Alexandria and later a third, Ein Shams, in Cairo. The establishment of these universities has introduced modern culture into the stream of Arabic culture without the least resistance or protest, with the result that Egypt is now being pulled in two directions the scholastic path by the Azhar and its subsidiary religious institutions, and the modern scientific way by the system of modern secular education. These two great forces maintain in Egypt a remarkable equilibrium without either destroying the other - perhaps because of the deep-rooted faith in religion which has been growing in the hearts of the Egyptians for hundreds of years - and education in Egypt continues to rest on the dual foundation of religious and secular studies. It is not likely that Egypt will give up either of these two foundations, but it is expected that they will draw closer together to form one firm base for Egyptian culture. Religious fanaticism as well as scientific monomania are both giving way at present, while the Sufi orders which used to exert great influence are waning as a result of the spread of education among the middle classes. Many intellectuals who were at first intrigued by secularism are becoming genuinely interested in religion. Some Western scholars lament that Muslims, especially in Egypt, have closed the door to free interpretation, ijtihad, in the fundamentals. Ijtihad has been denied in Egypt because Egypt is the leader of all Muslim countries - in spite of the fact that it is smaller than some of them - and since it has been subjected, together with other Muslim countries, to imperialist invasion it has had to direct all its energy toward deliverance from imperialism and the protection of its own and its neighbors' safety. Ijtihad in religion at such a time could easily have led to such schism that only the imperialist powers would have profited. This is the reason for the silence with which Islam has met the double challenge from the atheist East and the Christian West. A primitive, naive faith with safety was felt to be better than a rationalistic faith with the peril of disintegration and confusion. Ijtihad, however, remains inevitable and will come as soon as the Muslim world is secure from the evils surrounding it and can attain respite and tranquility. Nationalism in Egypt has taken an unprecedented turn since the people won their independence. Formerly, nationalistic movements set aside religion in order to maintain unity among all citizens, whether Muslim

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or Christian, while religious movements tended to exclude Arab nationalism. In this new nationalism the two movements meet in unison and harmony without secular nationalist opiniativeness or religious rigidity. This internal harmony is the basis for the desire of Egypt to be neutral in relation to external nationalistic conflicts between the East and the West. If there were any tendency for Egypt to favor one side, it would be toward the countries which still cling to religious values, if it were not for the antagonistic stand adopted by the West toward the Arab cause, especially in Palestine and North Africa.

G. Η. Weightman

THE CIRCASSIANS*

In the article by Weightman a particular ethnic minority, the Circassians, are considered with particular reference to their role in Jordan.

Of all the ethnic minorities in the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan none occupies a higher position of social importance nor wields such tremendous political and economic power than does a related group of peoples known in English as Circassians and in Arabic as Sharakisah. Nevertheless, most studies on modern Jordan either entirely ignore the Circassians or relegate them to mere mention as a quaint historic curiosity. There is nothing in the past of the Circassians nor in their present role of a dominant economic minority which warrants such supercilious scholarly treatment. Historically the Circassians were long esteemed for the personal valour of their men and the physical beauty of their women. They claim a justified kinship with the Mamluk warrior-slave rulers of medieval Egypt, and Circassians were traditionally regarded as the fairest women of the Ottoman seraglio. However it was only in the latter part of the last century that the Circassians became associated with the area which now constitutes modern Jordan. Throughout the nineteenth century the continued advance of Imperial Russia, despite bitter local resistance, into the Caucasus, forced the migration of various Indo-European Mus* Middle East Forum (1961), Vol. 37, No. 10, p. 26. George H. Weightman was Associate Professor at the Sociological Department of the American University of Beirut.

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lim tribal groups into the Ottoman Empire. The southward movement of these peoples was intensified by the agreements reached at the Congress of Berlin in 1878. As Caliph of Islam the Ottoman Sultan Abdul Hamid was the traditional protector of all Muslim peoples. Consequently large numbers of Circassian refugees were settled in the areas which now include modern Turkey, Syria, and Jordan. Outside of Russia, the largest concentrations of Circassians today are in Turkey, Syria, Jordan, and the United States of America. Of the three communities in the Middle East the smallest but economically the most important is in Jordan. Family, social, and traditional ties form many links among the three communities. Although most of the present day Jordanian Circassians are descendants of refugees who entered Jordan in the last century, there was a small movement of Circassians from the Soviet Union into Jordan after the Second World War. Many of these, however, have since migrated to the United States of America, where a small community is centered around Paterson, New Jersey. The term 'Circassian', although a convenient classifactory reference, is ethnologically somewhat misleading since it implies a cultural uniformity which does not exist. The group itself uses the term Adigah to refer to the collection of tribes which constitute the 'Circassians'. In the traditional past, of course, the tribal distinctions had more significance than they do now. Yet their often subtle differences have not completely disappeared. The Kabardian tribe are concentrated in Amman (which they refounded) and Jerash. The Circassian settlements in Naur and Wadi-Syr are mostly of the Bzadugh and Abzakh tribes. Although some of the Abaza tribe have settled in Amman, the Abaza, like the Abzakh, are more important in Syria than in Jordan. The differences among the Adigah are of comparatively minor importance. In costume and language they are quite similar. Politically and socially, however, they are identified by Jordanian Arabs with a distinct but related 'tribal' grouping who migrated with them from the Caucasus - the Chechens (Shishans). While the Adigah communities in Amman, Jerash, Wadi-Syr, and Naur number from twenty to twenty-five thousand people, the much smaller Chechen settlements in Suwaylih, Rusayfa, Zerqa, Sukhne, and Azraq total less than five thousand. The languages of the Chechens and the Adigah are mutually unintelligable. When they converse with one another they do so in Arabic. In dress and in dance etiquette (but not dance form) they have marked differences. Contrary to what has been written by Raphael Patai and Albert Hourani they do not, however, differ in religion. Both Patai and Hourani describe the Chechens as being Shiite Muslims in contrast to the Sunni Adigah. If the Chechens ever were Shiite Muslims, they certainly are not now.

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MIRZA PASHA

In recent years the political and cultural differences among the Chechens and Adigah have tended to be minimised. At present a Chechen occupies one of the two seats alloted to the 'Circassians' in the Jordanian Parliament. For various historic and economic reasons, the Adigah, as compared to the Chechens, are less traditional, more modern, and economically more advanced. Since the Adigah numerically and economically dominate collective groupings which constitute this non-Arab Sunni Muslim minority, and since outsiders rarely distinguish between the various 'tribes', most of the following discussion will concentrate on the Adigah - the Kabardian grouping in particular. In the nineteenth century the Ottoman Sultan settled some Circassian refugees in Jordan for strategic reasons as well as out of considerations of religious piety and charity. Sultan Abdul Hamid wished to settle a warrior group loyal to him in the area in order to counterbalance and to pacify the rebellious Bedu tribes. The early Circassian colonists approached their new home in the'Holy Land'in such a state of religious awe that legend records that many of them walked the last part of their journey barefooted. However, they quickly put on their riding boots and took up the sword against all those who contested their right of settlement. The lands assigned to them according to the laws of the Ottoman Empire were mostly government lands which had neither been farmed nor taxed previously. Nevertheless, some of the local Bedu tribes regarded the land as rightfully theirs, and initial enmities developed among the new settlers and the local Bedu peoples. Although the Ottoman authorities consistently supported the Circassians against their rivals, it was clearly to the advantage of the Turks to play the two groups against one another in order to insure their own continued dominance. Thus, for historic and economic reasons the Circassians supported the Ottoman authorities in the First World War against the local Arab revolts. The Circassians not only reestablished Amman (ancient Philadelphia) but they also brought with them the first stable governmental and police system in the area. For almost twenty years their tribal organization constituted the only political and police institutional agencies in Jordan. Not until 1895 did the Ottoman government organise its own system of administration. In addition to their political innovations in Jordan, the Circassians introduced a system of settled agriculture into an area previously reserved for pastoral pursuits. Their larger, efficient, more modern farms have long been easily distinguished from the farms of their Arab neighbours. Probably the most famous leader of the Jordanian Circassians was Mirza Pasha. He was a near-legend in his own lifetime, and the passage

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of years seems merely to have added lustre to his fame. Mirza Pasha was the chief of the Adigah during the last years of Turkish rule and during the twenties. He was, indeed, the last of the true chiefs. Although he had incurred the hostility and suspicion of the English in the First World War by his assistance to the Turks, his later support helped make possible the establishment of the Hashemite monarchy in Transjordan. Mirza Pasha ruled in the traditional pattern of such Circassian folk heroes as Hajji Shamil - the uncompromising antagonist of Imperial Russia. He was justly famous for his integrity, valour, and religious fanaticism.

THE NEW fiLITE

The rapid modernisation of the Jordanian Circassians and their fuller integration into the general socio-economic life of Jordan has led to a blurring of the old tribal structures. Now one may no longer speak of the Circassian chief but rather of a Circassian έοτΕ, who constitute a key segment of the upper class in modern Jordan. As would be expected of a people who have traditionally esteemed warfare and agriculture over trade or learning, most of the present-day dlite of the Jordanian Circassians are prominent landlords and/or high officials in the government administration or the military establishment. The Mirza, el-Mufti, Tash, and Khurma families are the most important landlords among the Circassians. Omar Pasha Hikmat, a son-in-law of Mirza Pasha, was the first Circassian to occupy a cabinet post (Minister of Justice) in the young Transjordan monarchy. Wasfi Pasha, the son of Mirza Pasha, is the Adigah representative in parliament and in recent years has been Secretary of Agriculture, of Defence, and of Interior in various Jordanian cabinets. Said el-Mufti, the head of the el-Mufti family, was a former prime minister and at present is a prominent member of the House of Notables (Lords). Among the smaller Chechen group, Abdil Baqi Jammo, the Imam of a Zerqa mosque and the second of the 'Circassian' deputies in parliament, is one of the prominent leaders. Qasem Bulad, who is the mayor of Zerqa, is another well-known Jordanian Chechen.

HIERARCHY REMAINS

The old tribal hierarchy has become blurred, but it has not completely disappeared. As a group the more modern and energetic Circassians are well-off, yet some Circassians are still more equal than others. Traditionally, the group was divided into the aristocrats and their retainers or followers. Within the community such distinctions still play an important

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consideration in marital plans. The Mirza and el-Mufti families constitute par excellence examples of the traditional elite still able to maintain their political, economic, and social inter-communal domination. In addition the communal status hierarchy is further complicated by the fact that certain prominent families occupy an anomalous position from their having passed under a cloud of a political nature. The Circassian landlords can be subdivided into agricultural landlords outside Amman and the Amman landlords. Originally the latter were also agrarian landlords with tenant farmers. However, the sudden and extensive growth of Amman has transformed them into urban land speculators of tremendous socio-economic importance. In recent years many young Circassians have abandoned agriculture for a military career. They are represented in large numbers in the officer corps of both the army and the air force. Present and recent military officers of Circassian origins include Izzat Hassan, Fawaz Mahir, and Ibrahim Othman. The Circassian conventional disdain for mercantile pursuits is so strong that one can literally count the number of families directly connected with trade on the fingers of one hand - with two or three fingers to spare. Since the days of Mirza Pasha, the Circassians as a group have been loyal and firm supporters of the Hashemite monarchy. Both their traditional Islamic loyalties and their comparatively high socio-economic status would warrant such an attitude; however, no ethnic minority anywhere in the world - least of all a far sighted, 'dominant minority' puts all its eggs in one basket. As a minority group, the Circassians are not politically active. This is not to say that they are politically indifferent or unaware. The internal social and cultural life of the community is centred round the Circassian Charitable Association which was formally organised in Amman long before the Second World War. For this proud and prosperous minority the Association is designed to insure that no Circassian is reduced to the status of a public ward or beggar. Connected with the Association and using its Amman facilities is the Ahli Club. This athletic club, which is predominantly Circassian but with some Arab participants, has long dominated the Jordanian sports scene. The most memorable thing about the modest headquarters of the Association is a large posted document, drawn up in 1953 in the Arabic language, which declares that the dowry for Circassian girls shall be reduced from 300 Jordanian Dinars to JD 150. The heads of the various prominent Circassian families have affixed their signature to the most important document governing inter-communal social life. Recent decades have witnessed a rapid transformation of this community from a traditional, agrarian, ethnic minority into a modern, urbanised, Arabised, key element in Jordan. Except at occasional dance

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festivals in Wadi-Syr and Jerash, almost no one of either sex under forty ever wears the traditional and distinctive garb of the Adigah. (As noted earlier, the Chechens tend to remain the more traditional of the two groups). All adult Circassians are bilingual (Circassian and Arabic). Among the young educated adults, most are trilingual: Circassian, Arabic, and English. Many are graduates of colleges and universities in Lebanon, Egypt, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Since the influx of Palestinian refugees transformed Amman from a sleepy, Circassian village into a turbulent Arab city, many Circassian children have completely abandoned the language of their ancestors. Although a few Circassian intellectuals have embarked upon a campaign to teach a written Circassian language utilising the Latin alphabet, they have met with no success. The publications of the Circassian Association are all in Arabic. When one Jordanian Circassian writes to another, he invariably does so in Arabic - not even in Circassian using the Arabic alphabet. Indeed, although most Circassians are described as bilingual, they tend to be more fluent and more at ease in Arabic than in Circassian. Increasingly, especially in the Amman area, Circassians are distinguishable from the Arabs only by their physical appearance. Even then, the differences are often quite subtle, and the outsider may easily fail to note the distinctions. In general, (and there are always exceptions) the Circassians tend to be stockier and fairer than the Arabs. The 'Semitic traits' often associated with the Arabs are lacking in them. While Arabs tend to be dolichocephalic, the Circassians tend to be brachycephalic. In addition, among some of the Adigah and Chechens there appears to have been an intrusion of Tartar racial strains sometime in their past. Even these minor racial differences are becoming obscured by the growing amount of intermarriage between Circassians and Arabs. Intermarriage between the two groups has of course taken place since the early days of the Circassian settlement. However, in the past it was on a limited scale and possessed a peculiar configuration of its own. Contrary to the pattern described by Patai in his The Kingdom of Jordan (page 21), when intermarrigage formerly occurred it was between Circassian women and Arab men - a reversal of the usual situation between a socially superior and a social subordinate ethnic group. This variation on the practice observed in so many other societies is partly explained by the fact that both the Arabs and the Circassians concerned were of high social status. Thus, the 'mixed' offspring of these unions have tended to occupy positions of high status in the Arab community. Invariably, as might be expected in patriarchal societies, these 'mixed' offspring, while proud of their Circassian legacy, identify themselves with their fathers' people. In recent years, as the number of intermarriages increase, some Circassian men

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have taken Arab women as wives. Nevertheless, endogamous marriage among the Circassians is still the expected, desired, and usual pattern.

BROTHER AVOIDANCE

Inevitably under the twin impact of Arabisation and modernisation, many of the old Circassian cultural forms are passing away. Even now many have been completely abandoned or are maintained in a very tenuous fashion. For example, the old pattern of primogeniture (a system wherein the eldest son inherits all the property) with its pre-Islamic roots in the Caucasus, has long been superseded by the Muslim regulations concerning inheritance. On the other hand, although the ceremonial abduction of brides seemingly has evolved into a formal ritual, it does sanction a normative pattern which permits both young men and women a freer and bigger share in their courting and marital plans than that possessed by their Arab counterparts. Any Circassian youth is free to 'visit' any Circassian maiden. There is, however, a general awareness that non-61ite suitors, while free to 'visit' the daughters of the traditional dlite, cannot hope for success above their social position. Although their system of ceremonial abduction has long attracted the attention of romantic outsiders, their most interesting cultural practice from the sociological point of view has often escaped the notice of observers despite the continued strength of its sanctions. The Circassians practice what for want of a better word may be termed 'brother avoidance'. Anthropologists have recorded that many societies practice "in-law avoidance" to minimise social conflicts and a few even practice "brothersister avoidance" to minimise the feared potentialities of incest. But this observer knows of no other society which has gone so far to curb formally the universally recognised possibilities of sibling rivalry. Younger brothers do not simply defer to their older brothers: they are expected to minimise contact with them. Thus, if a man arrives at a dance party, social gathering, club, or restaurant and finds one of his brothers already there, he is expected to withdraw discreetly. Brothers - especially younger brothers - never introduce their friends, acquantainces, or business, associates to their other brothers. If such introductions are deemed necessary or desirable, it is expected that the introductions will be done by others. Along with brother avoidance tends to go a pattern of social strain and tension between fathers and sons. Some Circassian adult males have literally never had any direct conversation with their fathers. Such a situation is considered a commendable example of proper filial respect. The 'oddness' (from the ethnocentric perspectives of either American or Arab observers) of such an institutionalised attempt to minimise sibling

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rivalry can be gauged by a conversation this writer had with a Circassian friend. Like so many of the younger generation in the Middle East, he desperately wanted to be 'modern'. Consequently, as he related to the writer, he had admonished his three younger brothers, "Don't treat me as a brother; treat me as a friend". The paradox with Arab or American expectations should not blind the outsider to the fact this cultural prescription performs an important function in the social life of the community. In the true traditions of a warrior group, Circassians, whether male or female, are not expected to show any emotions at times of sickness or death. The individual is expected to discipline his own emotions just as he is expected to discipline himself to the orders of his superiors. This cultural expectation and, indeed, the whole spirit of this proud people can be summarised by a traditional story concerning Mirza Pasha. One day while this war-like chieftain was visiting some of his retainers, he entered the bedroom of a dying Circassian who was surrounded by his weeping female relatives. Hearing the moans and sobs of the dying man, Mirza Pasha laughed. When the man angrily inquired how he could laugh at such a time, Mirza Pasha replied that any Circassian warrior lucky enough to die in a bed surrounded by his women should have no reason for complaints or sadness. Angered by Mirza Pasha's insensitivity to his pain and the approach of death (although this, remember, is the approved Circassian attitude), the dying man cursed Mirza Pasha saying, "May your death be as mine and may you remember me at your time of death". With the aristocratic manner of disdain appropriate to a Circassian chieftain, Mirza Pasha replied, "May you live to see that I don't die thus". Many years after the death of the man when the Pasha was about to die himself, he apparently remembered the vow of the dying man. However, the manner of death was not to be the same. Rising from his bed, Mirza Pasha spent many hours stoically in a hard chair until he -quietly and without any complaints or show of emotion died.

Α. Ι. Tannous GROUP BEHAVIOR IN THE VILLAGE COMMUNITY OF LEBANON*

Dr. Tannous contributes an illuminating account of his native Christian village of Bishmizeen. Caution should be exercised in generalizing from this example, if for no other reason because the village is Lebanese Christian and thus atypical in many respects of the general area. The group rather than the individual is the center of community life in the Lebanon village. The behavior of individuals in various life-situations is mainly an expression of their group patterns. Three main groups predominate in village life the family, the church, and the community as a whole. Identification with each of these entities is shown by such indexes as proverbs, swearing expressions, names, addressing others, marriage, and patterns of conflict and co-operation.

INTRODUCTORY STATEMENT

The Lebanon mountains of Syria rise abruptly to some twelve thousand feet f r o m the eastern shore of the Mediterranean. On their slopes, more rugged than the Rockies of the United States, are scattered several hundred village communities. A strikingly similar historical and cultural background has resulted in a culturally homogeneous area. Unlike the American rural community, each one of them is a clearly defined ecological and psychosocial entity. They are predominantly inhabited by farmers, who go to work in the fields in the morning and come back to the * Reprinted from American Journal of Sociology (1942), Vol. 48, No. 2, p. 231. (American, Sociological Association). By permission of the University of Chicago Press. Afif I. Tannous is an American government official of Lebanese origin working as director of the Foreign Agricultural Service, U.S. Department of Agriculture.

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village in the evening. Between the villages no scattered farmsteads can be seen. Each village has defined clearly the boundaries of its territory, with respect to other villages. Similarly, each one of them has defined the boundaries of its psychosocial identification. At the same time, within the village, group identifications are clearly defined, and shifts in these identifications seem to take place according to a regular pattern. The writer's primary objective in undertaking this study was to dist cover and analyze the prevailing pattern of group behavior in those villages. The study was undertaken specifically in one village community Bishmizzeen - ten miles from the seashore, on the foothills of the Lebanons. However, a few other villages were included, in a more general manner. These were: Amyoon, Kafer-Akka, Btirram, Afsdik, and Kaferhazir. The writer grew up in Bishmizzeen and actively participated in the various aspects of its life. He was brought up in the image of its culture. At the same time he traveled throughout the Lebanon area and became intimately acquainted with the life in a large number of villages. After staying in America for several years, he returned with a new cultural outlook and made a participant-observer study, of which the present analysis is one aspect. The family, as consisting of two parents and their children, is not highly significant in the village community of Lebanon. What is of real significance is the joint family, a larger family group consisting of the parents, their children, the paternal grandparents, the paternal uncles and their families, and unmarried paternal aunts, and the kinship group, the largest family group, consisting of all those that claim descent from the same paternal ancestor. The individual learns to identify himself with this family group from the moment of birth and his behavior is patterned accordingly. The village people use many proverbs. These proverbs are not learned from books but are the spontaneous creation of village life. They are an expression of the people's fundamental attitudes. Consequently, one expects that the dominant group loyalties in village life should figure prominently in its proverbs. Here are some of the proverbs that are related to family group behavior. "I am against my brother; my brother and I are against our cousin; cousin, brother, and I are against the stranger". This proverb indicates not only the emphasis upon the family group but also depicts, in a concise manner, the shifting character of such emphasis. "Blood can never turn into water". This proverb is usually uttered in such a conflict situation as that in which a member of the family group goes against his own friend and supports his relatives. Such behavior is expected from the individual, even by his friend. If he should behave otherwise, he would be much criticized.

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"A boy is two-thirds the image of his uncle". The uncle here referred to is the maternal uncle. There is a special term for him in Arabic (khal.) This proverb emphasizes the family tie on the mother's side. Despite the fact that the family organization is patrilineal and patrilocal, identification with the mother's family group is emphasized in many situations. "They asked the mule, who is your father?" He said, "My (maternal) uncle is the horse". The mule is a hybrid from a donkey and a mare. This refers to those who do not have a 'good' family background on the father's side and have to resort to the maternal side for such a background. "Marry the daughter of a known family though she be an old maid". This refers to their belief that the qualities of a family (cultural and biological) will assert themselves in the offspring. "Nothing can sympathize with the twig more than its bark". This indicates that blood relation is as intimate and binding as the relation between the wood and bark of the twig. "He who has no backing, has no backbone". The Arabic word for 'back' or 'backing', as used here, signifies 'family' or 'kinship' - a transfer from their belief that the life of the offspring originates in the back of the father. "He who does not share his goods with his brother will not share them with his son". This is one more indication of the fact that the significance of the family unit is not limited to the parents and their children. There are over fifty other such sayings, which seem to indicate the emphasis of the village culture upon group behavior rather than upon the individual and to point to the priority of the joint family and kinship units over the biological family unit. Another index of the extent and intensity of identification with the family group is found in the swearing expressions used by the villagers. Swearing is an indication of a conflict situation. The individual indulges in it when he is frustrated and emotionally upset. Short of physical attack, it is meant to inflict pain upon the other individual by attacking that which he holds 'sacred'. Upon analysis, one finds that the villagers' swearing expressions vary in accordance with the intensity of the conflict situations. In mild conflict situations the following swearing expressions are usually used. You coward!

You woman (addressing a man)! Shut up! You dog!

Go and kill yourself! Go and bury yourself! May God curse you! Phew on you! etc.

The significant point here is that almost all the swearing used in mild conflict situations, when one aims to hurt the other least, refers to the strictly personal characteristics of the individual. The individual as such

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is of little importance in the village, and insulting him as an individual does not greatly endanger his existence or status in village life. However, in more intense conflict situations, more violent terms are used: May God curse your father! May God curse your ancestors! You bastard!

You, son of a harlot! You, who have no known origin!

All the violent swearing terms, to which the response is extremely violent, indicate an attack upon the individual through his religious or family group. By such an attack his whole existence seems to be threatened. He reacts violently against such a threat. Moreover, his reaction is further intensified by his realization that all the other members of his group will react similarly. A further index of family identification may be found in the names of people. The usual procedure is to name the first son after the grandfather. This serves to preserve the tie with the ancestors on the father's side, the family being patrilineal. Other sons are named after different relatives within the larger family group. Thus the scheme would be as follows: Afif is the son of Salim, Salim the son of Afif, etc., to the limit, which is the first ancestor whose name is adopted by the whole kinship group as their family name. Consequently, each member of the family group has three names - his first name (which would be his grandfather's name, if he is the first son), his second name (which is his father's name), and his third name (which is the family group name). In still another way - the manner of addressing others - the name indicates the loss of the individual within the family group. As soon as their first boy is born, the parents, in the majority of cases, cease to be addressed by their own names. They are now addressed after the name of their son - as the mother of So-and-so and the father of So-and-so. Sometimes, even before the son is born, they are called by his intended name. As the parents grow older, their names become more and more forgotten, until they completely cease to be used. Until a few years ago, when he inquired about it, the writer did not know his maternal grandmother's name. On the other hand, until he is married, the son is referred to in many cases as the son of So-and-so, of such and such a family. In situations of conflict or boasting the excited individual exclaims, "Take it [a blow with a stick] from the hand of the son of ..." (giving the collective name of his family group). The introduction of a young man or a young woman to a group of strangers is not satisfactory unless the name of the family group is given. This manner of addressing has one further implication. The child learns, from the start, that he should address every member within the

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large family group as 'cousin' or 'uncle' or 'aunt' or 'grandfather' or 'grandmother', no matter how distant from his immediate family is the individual concerned. All of them are identified, as one, with the family group. The individual normally marries within the kinship group, as defined above, beyond second cousins. This insures the family group solidarity. In case no suitable mate is found within the kinship group, one is sought either from another kinship group within the village or from the individual's kinship branch 1 in another village. What is least preferable is that a mate should be chosen from another kinship group in another village. This choice may be somewhat tolerated in case the chosen mate is in some manner distantly related to the kinship group. However, the family influence does not end here. The specific mate is usually chosen by the joint family - parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. This is one more demonstration that the family group is the significant social unit and that the individual is primarily a member of this group. Table 1 shows the pattern of intermarriage in the case of Bishmizzeen, since its beginning. It will be observed that during the first and second generations no marriage within the kinship group took place, owing to the

TABLE 1

Marriage within and outside the kinship group and village in the case of Bishmizzeen, Lebanon, up to 1939

Generation

first second third fourth fifth sixth seventh Total 1

Married within kinship group

2 672 79 28

176

Married to an outsider within village

outside village

6 272 98 159 187 78 17

5 39 62 124 174 88 12

572

504

Some kinship groups have more than one branch, started simultaneously by sibling ancestors in different villages. 2 Odd numbers in first two columns indicate the existence of second marriages.

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fact that marriage between first and second cousins (paternal or maternal) is not permitted. (A few exceptions in the case of second cousins have been tolerated). Thus the early family groups w h o started the village had to wait for two or three generations before they could establish the desirable norm of marriage within the kinship group. In all, the total of marriages within the village by far exceed marriages outside the village. There are no deep-rooted feuds in the villages under consideration, as exist in some other Lebanon villages. Quarrels occur every now and then. The general tendency is for these quarrels not to be limited to the individuals concerned. They begin with two individuals but soon tend to be redefined in terms of family lines. In case the quarrel is between two individuals of the same joint family group, conflict between the two households concerned may take place. However, such a conflict is normally temporary and mild. Very soon identification with the larger family group becomes predominant, and the minor gap is bridged over. Conflict tends to assume a more permanent and more violent character when the two individuals concerned belong to two different kinship groups. Further, this identification with the family group in conflict situations is indicated by the causes that lead to quarrels. The surest way for an individual to precipitate a major conflict is not to attack the other individual as such but to direct the attack against his family group.

IDENTIFICATION WITH THE RELIGIOUS GROUP It has been shown how the dominant family group defines for the individual his behavior in various situations. Another such dominant entity is the religious group, whose influence will now be considered. It must be kept in mind that the great majority of the village people in the locality are of the Greek Orthodox faith. There is in each of these villages a small number of Moslem households and a smaller number of Maronite households (Catholic sect). The following are the most frequently used proverbs which indicate the importance of the religious group in village life. God helps each one in his own faith. (This is used as a conciliatory statement when a conflict situation threatens to arise on the basis of religious differences). Never accompany him who has no religion. The Moslems of Minyeh, the Maronites of Zagerta, and the Greek Orthodox of Kura. (This refers to the strongholds of the three main faiths of the area; Bishmizzeen and the other villages considered are in the Kura district). Do not betray your brother in faith. A Moslem cannot love the cross. He who lives among the people of another sect gets into trouble.

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Further evidence is supplied by swearing expressions: May God curse your religion! May God curse your cross! May God curse your Mohammed! These are the most violent swearing expressions that anyone can ever use, and they create the most violent reaction. The reaction is even more violent than that produced by a curse aimed at the family group. The violence of the reaction is also relative to whether the curse comes from one of the same faith or of a different faith. Thus in moments of extreme anger one Greek Orthodox may curse the religion of another Greek Orthodox, and the response would be relatively mild. In such a situation the attack does not define the field in terms of group conflict. The conflict remains a personal one. But let a Moslem or a Maronite use this symbol of attack in a quarrel with a Greek Orthodox, and the conflict will soon be defined in terms of two conflicting groups. Consequently, it is now very rare in these villages that a Moslem curses the Greek Orthodox religion, or vice versa, while members of the same faith indulge in it more freely. Less violent forms are: God curse the beard of your priest! God curse the turban of your sheik (Moslem priest)! May the donkey of the Maronite urinate in your courtyard! (This is said by one woman to another in a quarrel, indicating a state of humiliation). As in the case of the family, the naming procedure is highly indicative of the influence of the religious group. The names that have been used in the village, with respect to religious implication, may be classified as follows: (1) Strictly Moslem names (2) Strictly Christian names (a) Strictly Greek Orthodox names (b) Strictly Maronite names (c) Names common to Greek Orthodox and Maronites (3) Names common to three sects The Moslem group use Moslem names (Ali, Ahmed, Halina, Fatima, Mustafa, etc.) and Arabic adjective names (Salim, As'ad, Salimeh, etc.) that are common to the three sects. Not a single one among them has a distinctly Christian name. The Greek Orthodox group use (1) mostly Greek Orthodox names (Constantine, Hilaneh, Nicola, Mitri, etc.), (2) some Christian names, common to Greek Orthodox and Maronites (Hanna, Mikhail, Sassin, Sara, etc.), and (3) Arabic adjective names, common to the three faiths.

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With the exception of one recent case, no Greek Orthodox individual in Bishmizzeen has ever had a distinctly Moslem or Maronite name. The two Maronite households in the village use two types of names the religious type that is common to the Greek Orthodox and the Maronites and the Arabic adjective type. Not a single name in these two households is distinctly Maronite. This indicates their tendency - being a very small minority - to identify themselves with the Greek Orthodox majority. Perhaps the most emphatic identification with the religious group is expressed in the marriage situation. Here the boundary lines are clear, the barriers thick, and no crossing is permitted. Thus intermarriage between the Greek Orthodox and the Maronites is very rare indeed, only five cases being reported in the history of Bishmizzeen. When it occurs, the girl is expected to adopt her husband's faith, which she is normally reluctant to do and to which her family furiously objects. Also, the church authorities interfere in a most determined manner. The barrier is even wider between Christians and Moslems. Only two cases of such interreligious marriage have taken place in the several villages under consideration. When two individuals of the same faith and same family group quarrel, their conflict is limited in area and intensity. It remains on the interpersonal level. When the participants belong to different family groups, the conflict shifts to the intergroup level, but when they belong to different faiths (which also implies different family groups) the conflict field tends to comprise a wider area and to take on a more violent character. (It must be observed that in recent years the new spirit of nationalism has tended to minimize the influence of the religious element in conflict).

IDENTIFICATION WITH THE VILLAGE COMMUNITY

The family group defines for the individual a cluster of his life-situations, the religious group takes care of a second cluster of situations, and the village (Bishmizzeen, for example), the symbol of the community as such, defines a third cluster of situations. Among these three groupings the major issues of life in the village are taken care of. However, it seems that identification with the village (although very significant) has never been as intensive and extensive as with the family group. The reason for this is obvious. Family groups appeared first, and it took some time for community identity to develop. In the village proverbs there are relatively few that refer to the village as such, with emphasis upon locality:

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Ask about your neighbors before you build your house. Your neighbor is your refuge. Your next-door neighbor is better for you than your far-off brother. The tares of your community are better for you than foreign wheat. Every tree has its own shadow, and every village has its own customs. As long as your neighbor is prosperous you will be prosperous too. God and your neighbor are the only two who know your affairs best.

No swearing expressions are used with reference to the village. Similarly, the names used by one village are roughly the same as those used by other villages. The boundary lines between village and village begin to show themselves in the case of intervillage marriage. As indicated above, the choice of a mate from outside the village is tolerated, but not encouraged (see Table 1 on intermarriage). Other family groups see in it an implied insult to their girls. Also, they see in the chosen women a stranger who does not belong. They are not certain of her behavior and status among them. Her advent into the village tends to make them conscious of their entity, as the "Bishmizzeen group", for example. Also in situations of conflict or competition village identity is clearly demonstrated. When quarrels take place between individuals from Bishmizzeen and a neighboring village, usually such quarrels do not end with the individuals concerned. They tend to implicate the two village groups, as the Bishmizzeen group versus the Amyoon group. When a villager, say a Bishmizzeenian, goes to a village where he is not known, he is soon asked, "Where do you come from? To what family do you belong?" When the young men of one village participate in a religious festival in a neighboring village, they do so as the young men of "Bishmizzeen". They try to outdo other village groups (the young men of Amyoon or Afsdik or Kaferhazir) in group dancing, horse racing, singing, or ringing the church bell. The Bishmizzeen people are conscious of their entity as the "Bishmizzeen group" in respect to learning. They have always been proud of their good village school and the relatively high proportion among them who have had college education. They refer to their village as the village of Ilm ('learning'). Amyoon is conscious of itself as being 'strong', 'dominating', and the 'stronghold of the church'. Kafer-Akka is proud of the fact that its farmers are the most industrious and successful. Similarly, other villages have consciously developed such distinctive identifications. When a misdemeanor or a minor crime is committed in the village, one hears such remarks as the following: "This is not the custom of our people!" "By your behavior, you have spoiled the name of your village". "Are we going down to the level of other villages?" etc.

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Indeed, it would be no exaggeration to say that pride in every distinctive and valued character of any individual, family group, the church, occupation, the natural resources, including air (literally!) is emphasized in this intensive community consciousness.

Η.

Ammar

THE SOCIAL ORGANIZATION OF THE COMMUNITY*

The distinguished Egyptian anthropologist, Hamed Ammar, has done one of the best anthropological analyses in the literature of the Middle East. We have chosen his chapter on the social organization of the community as representative of the Egyptian village with its emphasis on the family as the organizational focus of the villages of Egypt.

SOCIAL GROUPINGS

By 'social organization' here is meant the relations between social groups which have a certain ordered arrangement in the community. This is usually called 'social structure' by most anthropologists. We shall deal not only with the expected or ideal pattern of relations between the groups or the individuals, but also with their realization in concrete social behaviour. As Malinowski has emphasized, one must not only consider the 'charter' of the institutions and their traditional norms governing human conduct; it is equally important to study the real activities which may differ from the prescribed expectations owing to specific social pressure.1 Moreover, 'social organization' will also include the 'social controls' that maintain 'law and order in the community' as well as the religious and magical sanctions which serve to validate social action. In Silwa, the family is the basic social unit around which the individual's * Hamed Ammar, Growing up in an Egyptian village (Routledge and Kegan Paul, Ltd., London, 1954), pp. 42-66. 1 B. Malinowski, A Scientific Theory of Culture, pp. 52-3.

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life is centred. According to the official statistics, there are 1,223 families in Silwa Bahari, with an average of four persons to each family. In Arabic, the word family (aila) literally means the social unit that supports its members. In Silwa, the words for family and household (bait) are sometimes interchangeably used. Ideally, the minimum personnel of the family comprises parents, unmarried children and married sons with their wives. There are, however, many other variations on this pattern, e.g. a conjugal family with a son-in-law, with the husband's sister who is a widow, with the husband's paternal nephew or niece who is an orphan, or with a paternal cousin. One can safely say that the composition of the members of a household constituting a family is determined mainly by the patrilineal principle, an emphasis which lies at the root of the family in Silwa. The position of such a family depends on property and ownership of land, as it is the main factor that makes the family live in one household. A widowed sister lives with her married brother if she transfers to him her property of land or at least allows him to till it. As married boys can have no property of their own as long as their father is alive, they have to live and work with him. Whether two married brothers with their families form one family living in one household, depends on whether they work co-operatively on the land after their father's death or whether they divide it. The family as an economic unit is identified with its common entrance to the house. This entrance must be distinguised from many houses, which have a single main gate behind which there are other entrances. The main gate could be identified with the extended family whose members no longer form an economic unit. The following sketch illustrates a typical example of a compound of an extended family.

A

Μ

Η Main gate F

Family Guest-House

X, the father of A, Μ and F and the grandfather of H, was the owner of

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this house site. After his death the two brothers Μ and A, their sister F and their nephew Η wanted to divide their inheritance. During their prolonged quarrel over the land, they divided the house amongst them. As Μ was so annoyed with his brother A he decided not to enter the house from the same door A used, and built a separate entrance for himself. A, Η and F, although constituting separate economic family units, still share the same main entrance and the compound is referred to as X's house. The following household forms one economic unit in spite of the different members composing it. 2

^

1

1 Main gate 3

—

4

5

1 represents the part of the head of the family with his unmarried children; 2 represents his mother and his widowed sister who have both transferred their land to the head of the family; 3 represents his half-sister, who is also a widow and has a young daughter; 4 his son and wife; 5 places reserved for animals. In this case, the half-sister has not transferred her share of land to her brother but rents it to him. There is no institutionalized economic co-operation between the members of an extended family, if they are not living in one house. If they are on good terms, economic mutual assistance in borrowing money, animals, or crops may take place. Indeed it is significant that the extended family is not resorted to as much for economic help as has been expected. The economic strength of the extended family and the harmonious relationships between its members are not what is usually assumed by writers on social affairs in Egypt.1 However, the unity of the extended family is expected in questions related to public and formal occasions. The extended family is publicly responsible for the general conduct and certain disciplinary measures to redress the offences of its members against law and order, as we shall see later. Members of the extended family are also expected to render support 1

The writer is under the impression, from his general observation, that the extended family seems to be stronger and more effective as an economic unit amongst big landowning families as distinct from what obtains in Silwa, a community of small landowners.

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to each other on occasions of offering hospitality, at circumcision, wedding or funeral ceremonies. On the whole, the extended family could be regarded as an intermediate social unit between the conjugal economic family and the clan, shouldering the social responsibility for the smaller units and held accountable for their behaviour before the clan. It is only on the social level of public issues that public opinion in the village considers the family as a nucleus of blood relatives surrounded by a fringe of spouses.2 The extended families merge into the clan, and the village is composed of nine clans (kabail), each tracing its descent in the patrilineal line to one common ancestor. Further, the nine clans are grouped in two main sections (hissa), each section belonging to a common progenitor, the two progenitors being brother. One section is called O n a b related to O n , the brother of Mousa who is the progenitor of the Musiab section. The 'Onab section is divided into five clans, named: Diabab, Hasaballab, M'alliab, Waznab and Gharamab, whilst the Musiab is divided into four clans called: Marazik, 'Atamni, 'Amrab and Brahimab.3 It is locally accepted that each section represents half the population of the village, with the majority of the Musiab having their residence in the northern part, while the majority of the 'Onab reside mainly in the southern part. Between the two sections there is complete freedom of intermarriage and social exchange. Each of the two sections is supposed to be characterized by certain attributes; the Musiab being renowned for their boasting and self-pride, and heavy-built members, while the 'Onab are reputed to be comparatively stingy and much inclined to gossip. There are no formal heads of clans but there are natural leaders who are spontaneously appointed on occasions from the oldest members. The distinctive hallmark of every clan is its guest house, where the adult members of the clan have their communal meals during the fasting month of Ramadan, receive a common guest, settle disputes, meet for ordinary gossip and can celebrate their feasts, ceremonies and funerals. On one hand, the clans are aware of their integral identity; and on the other hand, they are aware that they are linked together by a common ancestor forming the unity of the village. Silwa Kibli (Southern Silwa) and its neighbouring villages are inhabited by the descendants of 'Ayyash the third brother of 'On and Musa. This genealogical relationship is the explanation given to the similarities in customs and traditions between the two parts of Silwa Kibli and Silwa Bahari. 2

Ralph Linton, The Study of Man, p. 159. Ab, the termination of the names of these clans, according to C. G. Seligman and Brenda Seligman, cannot be the Arabic ab - father. The suffix is common among the Beja tribal names. "The Kababish, a Sudan Arab Tribe", Harvard African Studies, Vol. II, 1918, p. 113fn. 8

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The genealogical pattern goes on to repeat itself still further to include and explain the relations and similarities in the larger socio-geographic region extending throughout the whole province. Apart from the towns "where people are mixed", most of the villages of this region are inhabited by either the G'afra or 'Ababda. While the G'afra are the descendants of G'afar al-Sadik whose great-grandfather was the grandson of the Prophet, the 'Ababda are the descendants of 'Abdullah ibn al-Zubair who belonged to the Kuraish clan, the Prophet's clan, but was not so close in kinship or favour to the Prophet. The G'afra consider themselves more hospitable than the 'Ababda; and they are also distinguishable as farmers, while the 'Ababda, even if they are farmers at present, were originally camel-drivers. Moreover the G'afra region is divided into two parts: those villages lying along the eastern bank of the Nile are descendants of Bahr (amongst whose sons were O n , Musa and 'Ayyash), while those stretching along the western bank of the Nile are the descendants of Buhair, the brother of Bahr. The diagram below represents the ramification of kinship in the region of G'afra and Silwa. It is clear from this that not only the village, but the whole region represents a ramified genealogical tree, having one main trunk. It is also significant that this ramification is related to the branching off of brothers who were not in agreement, e.g. in the division of East and West in the whole region, in the division of the two parts of Silwa (South and North) and in the division of Silwa itself into two sections. This could be taken as a recognition of a deep-seated cultural expectation of brothers' discord, in spite of the highly idealized expectation of fraternal solidarity. THE G'AFRA DESCENT TREE

Buhair (Village population on the western bank of the Nile)

Bahr (Eastern bank)

'Ayyash (Southern Silwa)

'On Musa (Northern Silwa)

Clans Extended families

r τ1 I τ Conjugal families

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The genealogical pattern, based on the unilateral descent, repeats itself with diminishing range throughout the social structure of the village down to the smallest unit. The village is divided into two parts, each of which is subdivided into clans, and these in turn are composed of a number of extended families.4 The whole structure of the village, as well as that of the whole socio-geographic region of G'afra, could be likened to a centrifugal mechanism spreading out and out in ever-widening circles. Certain common structural norms of behaviour permeate the various segments of the centrifugal structure, manifesting themselves in varying degrees and in different circumstances.5 Pride of belonging to a particular family, especially more obvious in the circle of the extended family, reflects itself in one's pride in the clan, the section, the village, and in the holy descent of the G'afra stock. In the case of extended families, pride manifests itself in possessing a common horse which runs in races held on the celebration of saintly occasions, in having a name for hospitality, or for scholarship and piety. Pride of clan is linked with activities in the guest house, or co-operation in digging a well. Pride in one's section is revealed on communal celebrations especially during the celebration of the Prophet's birthday; each section proclaiming that it has carried it out in a more spectacular manner as each usually has its marquee for listening to the recital of Koran and mawals (popular songs). At the level of the G'afra as such, the sense of pride reveals itself in their holy ancestry. Marriage outside the stock must be with those who can claim an equally holy descent. The second important norm that governs the whole social structure is the weight and respect given to, and the authority wielded by, the person who plays the role of the senior, normally chosen on age basis as well as on capacity to speak and argue well, besides other factors such as economic status and social prestige. This pattern which, in the smallest unit, is the authority of the father is extended to the oldest capable member of the extended family, to the head of the clan, and to the village councils that congregate spontaneously, having no formal composition. The third aspect which asserts itself in the various units of the social structure is the feeling of fellowship. The individual finds himself consciously or unconsciously merged into the group. Starting in this case with the largest unit of G'afra as a whole, one is not surprised to find that no elaborate electioneering campaign is required to persuade the G'afra villages to vote for the candidate who belongs to their stock. In fact, the same candidate for Silwa constituency (including the town of Edfu) has won the last three elections with a sweeping majority, irrespective of the 4

See Nadel, "Beni-Amer. Society", Sudan Notes and Records, Vol. XXVI, pp. 1, 44. The word 'structural' here is used in the sense employed by Bateson to denote standardized details of behaviour. Naven, p. 25. 6

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political views of his opponents. Throughout the whole of Silwa region, the opposing candidate had never secured more than a hundred votes out of at least three thousand. The rule is that the people of Silwa should vote for their 'paternal cousin'. Yet in the last elections another candidate from the G'afra, the official holder of the ancestry register and a religious man whose grandfather was the leader in the mystic order of the village, stood for the elections to compete with the previous member.6 The reason for that, I was told, is that they once had a heated argument as to whose father was the more respected and honoured man amongst the G'afra. It was also generally believed that the new candidate was encouraged by the 'Ababda. The G'afra split their votes between the two, neither thereby winning the elections (This is strong evidence that kinship relations, and not party politics, decide the issue of the elections in this community). On the clan level, the sentiment of fellowship shows itself in all the activities connected with the guest house. Suppose a distinguished guest has come to the guest house, e.g. a well-known religious man, or a man with social prestige from a neighbouring town; it is not only one man who receives him, but as many as possible of the heads of the extended families of the clan; and he might be invited by more than one clan. The money for the slain ram (dabiha) is collected from the heads of the families and called 'firda'-spread. The meal is cooked, each family providing its bread; meat and vegetables are provided from the 'common pot', and then they take their round trays to the guest house. The same happens with tea. Clan fellowship takes place during the night entertainments that are held during the month of Ramadan, when families co-operate in providing the 'Koran reciter' as well as other guests with tea and food. Identification with the clan sentiment shows itself in cases of murder, where the clans of both the murderer and the murdered are involved. It is the obligation of the father, son, brother, uncle or paternal cousin to call for vengeance and for the clan to support him, either by claiming compensation (which, however, is seldom accepted if the claim is acknowledged) or by counter-murder, as the Koran ordains that murder should be punished with murder. The two clans through the mediation of another clan have to settle the dispute by deciding the compensation, called dia. This is no Durkheimian merging of the individual into the group. It is simply a statement of the compelling moral law that the individual, to be in line with the group, should express group-sympathy; if the group is angry, he should be angry, if it is insulted, he must feel that he is insulted. This pattern of social structure does not apply merely to the Silwa community and the G'afra, but applies in varying degrees to the whole • In Silwa there is a strong connection between political authority and religious authority. This theme has been brought out clearly in E. Evans-Pritchard, The Sanusi of Cyrenaica (O.U.P., 1949).

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province of Aswan, and many other provinces that are known to the writer in Upper Egypt. In all this, the bond of common descent and family connections is one of the strongest factors as well as the most socially effective force in the social structure. The village could also be classified into social groups on the basis of age. From the standpoint of age there are three broad social groupings. The first is referred to as 'youngsters' (jahhal), including all boys and girls up to the age of twelve or thirteen years. The second is the unmarried group (fityan), and the third is represented by the married adults, referred to as 'men or women'. In public there is no free mixing between these three categories as it is considered 'impolite' for a youngster to sit with men, for example, and the converse would be shameful. Youngsters can only be seen in an adult gathering serving tea, or holding the ablution laver and ewer, or as messengers. In the case of young boys, they are marked by their head cap, while unmarried boys wear a turban, and the men besides a turban wear a 'tob' which is a black outer garment, and usually carry a stick or a stave. Apart from segregation and dress, the age criterion shows itself in outward behaviour, by considering the older people as equivalent to the paternal uncle, or as fathers, or grandfathers if they are very old. Often older people are addressed by the kinship term Ammy (O my paternal uncle), especially if one wants to be 'polite'. If one does not use the kinship term one has to address the older person by the title Sheikh preceding his first name. Sex is another criterion for two definite social groups: the world of men, and the world of women. In this community it is unthinkable to have free mixing between the two worlds, or that a thing done by one sex can also be done by a member of the other sex. Men have their scope of activities either in the fields or outside the compound, the women are mainly confined to their homes. A man who does not frequently mix with his fellow men outside the house is branded as the 'man of the oven', while a women who continually leaves her house is called 'strayer'. Men meet for their spontaneous gathering and gossip outside the house, while women meet inside. While women are expected to adorn themselves with earrings, nose rings, kohl for the eyes, finger rings, anklets, henna for the palms (almost an ornament for every sense), men are supposed to refrain. Moreover while men shave or cut their hair, women leave it to grow as long as possible and never cut it.7 While men wear pants, women do not; while women's speech is usually sprinkled with words in the diminutive, men are not expected to follow this habit; while women carry things on their heads, 7 For a boy who said that he would be ashamed if his hair grew long, presumably because it looks like that of girls.

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men never do so, and only carry things either in the hands, or on the back or shoulders. On walking along the village streets and alleyways, women keep near the wall, while men walk in the middle of the street. Although both men and women are fond of dramatizing their speech, yet they have different stylized ways of doing this. While men use their index fingers as a sign of threatening, women point out with their middle finger. Women grasp their chin or slap their face with open palms for surprise or regret or shame, while men slowly clap their hands. On being angry or hurt, the woman's cry is "Abouh, abouh ..." and in joy her shrill cry is "Wri, ri, ri ...". Men are not supposed to utter any cries of joy or anger. In threatening, a man will threaten in default to cut off his moustache, while a woman threatens to cut off her head hair. Men and women use different invectives and imprecations as well as different greetings. Women in their speech draw out their words, whereas men end them abruptly. Women do not participate either in individual or communal worship in the mosque as they are excluded altogether from it, but there is no Koranic support for this. On the other hand, they are usually the performers of magicoreligious rituals connected with averting the evil eye, bringing about pregnancy, or healing the sick; and men are less engaged in this sphere. It is also interesting to note that, as in Classical Arabic, the dialect of the village attached the feminine 'n' at the end of the verb in the third person feminine plural, a feature which does not occur in most of the urban dialects in Egypt. Between men and women there is complete avoidance of looking at each other face to face, except in the case of certain kinships specified by the Koran. On meeting men in the street, women have always to turn their heads to one side, and pull their head covering across their face, and men are expected to lower their heads and not stare at women. The sex taboo on looking and talking without reserve does not apply to children till they reach the adolescent stage, when they gradually acquire such norms and begin to observe them as a part of their value system of politeness. On the other hand, very old women and men are freed from such restrictions, and an old woman can pass by a group of men without covering her face, and can salute them, or talk to them on passing, but even then she cannot sit with men outside the house.

INTER-FAMILY RELATIONS

It is appropriate here to discuss the stylized norms of relationship and behaviour that should obtain between the various members of the family as an index to the understanding of the social structure and its functioning. The husband-wife pattern is one where the husband is the superior

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partner and enjoys the highest position in the family. He is, as the saying goes, "the supporting pillar and the vantage of the house", who is expected to make all the important decisions. The wife should tell her husband of the major events in the household, though he should not by convention betray any eagerness in enquiring about them. The husband is socially responsible for the acts and undertakings of his wife, immediately she moves from her matrilocal residence. He usually plans the work of his sons, while the wife does the same with the daughters; but he is not expected to interfere with his wife's domestic work. On the other hand, the wife is supposed to be submissive, devoted, and respectful to her husband. Sexual fidelity is the hallmark of sustained marriage relationship, as infidelity entails at least divorce, if not attempting to kill the wife and the paramour. As a wife, she should also attend to her husband, offering the best food to him rather than to the children or herself; the reason being that she can always have children but she cannot afford to have a substitute for her supporter (sanad). She should open the door for her husband when he knocks, pour out the water when he washes his hands after the meal, and give him priority in every respect. Although the wife seems subordinate in this pattern of relationship, she is almost the absolute manager of the house. She is the treasurer of the crops, money, legal documents, and the holder of the keys to the various chests in the house. If the man is expected to be generous and showy, the wife is expected to be frugal and industrious. The saying is that "the man is like an overflowing sea, while the woman is like a dyke, checking his undue extravagance". It is also conceded that the building up of a man is due to his wife, but so is his downfall, which would be regarded as the result of his wife's domestic policy. In spite of the fact that married women do not work in the field in Silwa and in most parts of Aswan Province, the wife certainly monopolizes certain economic pursuits which are considered to be purely her domain. She raises chickens, geese, ducks, goats and sheep, and men recognize this as a purely female occupation. This is in contrast to the raising of cows, camels and donkeys by men. My informant, Mahmoud, told me: "Women look after the 'small change' while men look after the pounds". The wife raises poultry and tends to small change as these are directly concerned with food consumption. There is no wife in the village who does not pursue this type of activity, as it is great disgrace not to be able to let blood flow even from a chicken if a guest comes to visit her husband, or at least provide her husband or children with a 'meat dish' on festival occasions. She should also raise goats and sheep, so that in case of death in the house an agira - slain animal - can be always available at the funeral. Between husband and wife no levity of behaviour is permissible, and

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no obvious physical intimacy of any sort in public or in front of the children. In fact, the husband's contacts with the house are very few. It is quite common to find a child who has been asked by his mother to call father from a meeting outside saying, "O father, they say come and speak". This is usually a call indicating that food is ready but neither the word food nor the word mother are ever supposed to be uttered in public. The father normally quits the house immediately he finishes his meal. During the first year of marriage the wife does not eat with her husband, partly because he is in the matrilocal residence, and partly because the wife has not yet become the mother of the children. Only then can she eat with him, but she should never confess that she has eaten before he has, for her eating afterwards is the proper procedure. From the standpoint of sentiment, the in-law relationship is a strong and binding force, involving exchange of gifts, food and visits similar in many ways to the kinship (lineage) obligations. It is said that the wife's mother is normally very affectionate, and always fussing over her son-inlaw, especially when he is in his matrilocal residence, and this attitude is usually a source of complaint and jealousy on the part of the brothers and sisters of the bride. Yet the husband's mother is traditionally harsh, difficult and fault-finding. My informant, Ali, explains the difference of the sentiment of the two mothers-in-law by saying: "The wife's mother is all too glad to procure a husband for her daughter, and she is grateful to him for marrying her daughter; thus she favours him. The husband's mother is resentful of the fact that her son's attachment, which was solely hers before marriage, is shared with his wife". It is also significant that the wife never refers to, or addresses her husband by his first name, especially in public. She either refers to him as "Son of so and so" (his father), or "my man", or less commonly "my husband". She addresses him by saying "O man", and the same applies to her husband who refers to his wife as "my woman" or "people of the house" and addresses her by saying "O girl".8 On the whole, the structural attitude of husband to wife is one of possession and protection. While the husband assumes the major role in all the activities outside the house, the woman rules almost supreme in matters connected with the household organization. The second pattern of relationship is that between father and children. With his children, as with his wife, the father avoids excessive intimacy in 8

Concerning the absence of any demonstration of tender feeling between wife and husband, Westermarck writes, "It is considered indecent of a man to show any affection for his wife, and it would consequently be improper to speak of it in proverbs". He further maintains that such an absence does not mean that no such feeling exists but has to be understood in relation to the Moorish ideas of decency. Wit and Wisdom in Morocco (London, 1930), p. 52.

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order to be respected and obeyed. By keeping social distance, he can be regarded as the most powerful agent in administering the moral and social code of conduct. Through his curt and abrupt admonitions he controls both his sons and daughters. In practice he has more to do with his sons, while the mother has more to do with her daughters, but of course there is a great degree of overlapping. There are no serious clashes between parents as to their respective rights of rearing the children. The mother always tries to keep her children quiet while their father is in the house. The absolute authority of the father over children is due to the fact that they belong to him and his family or orientation. Yet it is also recognized that only the mother and the mother's people can provide the immature children with affection and tenderness. According to Moslem law, immature children, in case of divorce, can be kept with the mother till the age of seven for a boy, and the age of nine for a girl, while the father sends the expenses of upbringing to the mother. If the mother dies the care and upbringing of children is usually entrusted to their maternal aunt or maternal grandmother. The authority of the parents is sanctioned by the Koran. Obedience of children to their parents comes next to the Moslem's major obligations to God and the Prophet. Disobedience to parents ('okouk al walidain) is one of the major sins which is harshly punished in the next world, and, according to Ali, even in this world. A disobedient son or daughter will never live a successful or happy life on earth, and the parents' curse might even affect the son's or daughter's children. To obtain the parental blessing, he continued, is more important than to inherit land or wealth from them, as having their blessing is a prerequisite for both piety and success. Thus, if the father is to wield authority and provide protection, the son or daughter must show 'filial piety' and submission to him as well as to the mother. One can cite many avoidances that a son must observe in connection with his father, especially in public. A mature son is not expected to sit beside his father in the same gathering; and if his presence is required he should play a very subordinate role, usually evidenced by the fact that he speaks as little as possible, and withdraws at the earliest possible opportunity. If it happens that the father is sitting on a bench at a funeral, for example, the son should sit on the ground; and if he has to sit on a bench, he should not sit on the same bench as his father, or on one opposite to him in order to avoid the fact to face position. If the son is lying on the ground, he should sit upon seeing his father passing by; and he should never be sitting while his father is standing. Of course, he cannot smoke in his father's presence, or do anything that might imply that he is not giving full attention to his father. Amongst the children, the eldest son is favoured by his parents as he is

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the first to relieve his father of some of his tasks. The importance of age and sex in parents' treatment of their children shows itself, for instance, in the distribution of meat. Boys, on the whole, receive more than girls, and the older gets more than the younger. To vary this order is regarded as one of the means of reward or punishment for the children. An elder son is not expected to argue 'face to face' with his father if the latter refuses any of the former's demands. In this case he has to send a messenger to negotiate with his father. Complete identification with the father is reflected in the saying, "Your father's enemy is your enemy and your father's friend is your friend", which is also a further evidence of the importance of family and clan solidarity. The observance of the proper rules of conduct with parents as well as with other relatives is the tangible attribute of children described as muaddabeen meaning disciplined (often wrongly translated literally as 'polite'. In his role, the father has to combine discipline backed by moral sanctions.9 The relations of children to the mother are certainly warmer, intimate and more affectionate. The mother's tenderness and affection for her children should be repaid in obedience, service and respect. Ali told me that a mother's prayers for her children are the most effective appeal to God. Respect and regard for her is enjoined upon her sons and daughters by the Koran and the Prophetic tradition that says "Paradise is at the feet of mothers". The relationship between brothers is expected to be one of complete solidarity. The common saying goes: "Support your brother whether he is the oppressor or the oppressed". If a mother sees her sons squabbling over anything, she admonishes, asking them to deal with each other "like brothers". The admonition is also exercised when a boy stranger comes to visit the family, and the boys are asked to go out and play "like brothers". However, the first-born has a prominent position among his brothers and sisters. He acts as his father's representative. He gives orders to the younger brothers and sisters, and at least threatens them with punishment, sometimes telling his father. Other members of the family acknowledge and even support the prerogative of the first-born son. But, on the whole, brothers are expected to form a united front and act as "two heads under one cap". Older married brothers are usually held to be responsible for the care of their younger brothers and sisters after the death of the father. Yet, in spite of the fact that brothers are expected to stand by each other through thick and thin, they are not encouraged to walk, sit or play together, especially after the age of eleven or twelve. If two or three brothers have to go to the fields they should not accompany each other, but should 9

M. Fortes, "Parenthood in Primitive Society" (summary of a lecture given in Man, Vol. LI, May 1951).

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follow one after the other to avoid the effect of the evil eye. It is not considered 'polite' for married brothers to sit together at one meeting. Moreover, there is no joking relationship or greeting terms between brothers. The relationship between sisters is mainly based on affection and mutual co-operation, but not necessarily that of solidarity as they are destined to live in separate homes after marriage. The same pattern of relationship obtains between brothers and sisters although married brothers are socially responsible for their unmarried sisters. In the case of the sister's divorce, her brother is the guardian in the absence of the father. More often than not, a widowed woman who has no son, goes to live with her brother, and hands over to him her property that she inherited from their father. The relation between consanguine brothers and sisters is supposed to be bristling with friction and jealously. Though they are from the same father and carry his name, their mothers are called darra-rivals; and hence they identify themselves with their mothers from the emotional point of view. Solidarity between consanguine brothers is not structurally expected as they are not nursed from the same breast. Uterine brothers are expected to be more affable and less quarrelsome with each other. This difference is partly intelligible when it is known that consanguine brothers inherit land and property from their father, while uterine brothers are 'screened' and do not inherit anything from the stepfather. However, whether between half-brothers or full brothers, the expectation of friction between siblings is widely held, and does actually occur, and is usually explained as an expression of their jealousy and rivalry. Apart from the motive of sibling rivalry to which reference will be made later, this friction between siblings could also be attributed to the absolute authority of the father. Jealousy of, and rivalry for the father's power, is suppressed and made acceptable by the possibility of gaining rewards of good behaviour both on social and religious grounds. Hence the father-son conflict is displaced to the brothers and sisters, who are in open rivalry for the father's favour and his sanctions and rewards. Moreover the methods of their early training, as will be discussed later, do not contribute to the suppression of rivalry; on the contrary, they stimulate and emphasize the value of rivalry in social behaviour. 10 The relation between a boy and a girl and his or her paternal or maternal uncle reflects almost the same relationship pattern that obtains between children and their father and mother. The paternal uncle and aunt are expected to support the father in enforcing discipline and social sanctions. It is even said that the main responsibility in this respect lies on the uncle's shoulders, as the father might be inclined to be less firm, having 10

This explanation is based on a similar situation in the Tanala culture of Madagascar. Cf. Abram Kardiner, The Individual and his Society, pp. 315-316.

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particular love for his children. On the other hand, the maternal uncle and aunt are also the source of affection and pampering. Grown-ups can sit with ease in the same gathering with their maternal uncles, but not with their paternal uncles. The relations between paternal and maternal cousins fall in the same line with that of the father's or mother's side. One of the most salient features that underlies the structural relationships is that although the fabric forming the idological basis for the social structure is entirely patrilineal as far as descent, inheritance, and prestige are concerned, yet it is dyed in a sentimental and emotional colouring which is preponderantly matrilineal. Towards the close matrilineal kin, the relations are certainly not weaker than towards the close patrilineal kin; they are of a different kind. If the relation of the 'ego' towards the patrilineal side is one of apprehension and alertness, and businesslike, as it were, the relation to the affinal side is one of affection, ease and jesting. It is not unusual for a sister who asks her brother for help to address him as "Son of my mother" as a means of enlisting his sympathy; or for a brother, on going to visit his sister, to say "I am going to see 'my mother's daughter'". Some men, whose mothers are of forceful character or whose fathers were married to other wives, are publicly called by their first names followed by their mother's first names. A man or a woman relates himself or herself always to the mother in situations of charm-writing, of incantations to ward off the evil eye or in similar magic rituals. In invoking God's help, women relate the person for whom they are praying to his mother, as this is considered the most genuine and moving way of appealing to God. This could be regarded as further evidence for the emphasis on the matrilineal sentiment in the social structure. In the case of a man or a woman referred directly to his or her mother, this could also be regarded as a functionally convenient way of distinguishing between him or her and the paternal half-brothers or half-sisters. The reference to the matrilineal origin in a polygamous patrilineal society seems to be a device used to distinguish between agnates.11 Moreover, what First has written about the role of the mother's brother in a segmentary system of patrilineal type, applies to Silwa community. In this village, the khal or khala, or the maternal side in general, provides certain compensatory social functions to those provided by the father and the paternal side. The former side provides, as Firth put it, "a locus of attachment and refuge for the children of the women by contrast with the demands laid upon them by their father's group". Again, the recognition of the mother's brother's group as one of special interest provides a channel for large-scale social communi-

11

E. L. Peters in his review of Hilma Granqvist, Child Problems among the Arabs in Man, Vol. LI, September 1951, p. 126.

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cation and reciprocity between it and the father's group.12 The same applies to the recognition of in-law relationship.13 Such relations and norms governing the relationship between the family members reflect and imply certain ways of behaviour which the child imbibes within the family circle. They also reflect some of the necessary requirements for the harmonious functioning of the various social units. The family in Silwa is one of the fields ot teaching, and perhaps even more of learning, some of the standardized social relations and their moral significance.

SOCIAL ORGANIZATION IN ACTION

Here some of the functions of the social structure have been examined. It is doubtless true that structural norms provide the articulating force in the village society, acting as traffic lights for individual behaviour. They define personal and corporate rights and duties with individuals, families and clans; indicate the extent of emotional involvement, which is expected to be very strong with close relatives, and joint family, fading somewhat in intensity as the kin spreads in the clan. They also specify the kind of relationship with the patrilineal and the matrilineal sides. Differentiation in kinship relations carries with it differentiation of behaviour, rights and obligations, and affective attachments. Moreover, the individual faces each of life's rejoicings or crises not only by himself but with the support and co-operation of all those related to him either by patrilineal ('asaba), matrilineal (lahma) and in-law (nasab) relationship, or any other intimate ties. The extent and frequency of such a support, and the hierarchical unit that undertakes the help, varies according to the situation envisaged, to the number of close relatives, and to the prestige of the person. In sickness, for instance, it is worth noting how kinsmen and kinswomen flock to visit a sick person, talk to him, attempt to alleviate his pain, pray for his safety, and give advice and medicine. There is a popular song which indicates the amount of security and pride that a sick man derives from being surrounded by his family and people. The song imagines a conversation between a doctor and a sick person, where the doctor asks who is going to pay for the medicine. The sick person is shocked by such a question and instantly replies that he has so many people who will see to it. The song goes on to show how each member of the family offers the doctor something in turn. But in the end 12 Raymond Firth in his review of M. Fortes, The Web of Kinship, in Africa, Vol. XXI, April, 1951, p. 159. 13 For kinship terms in Silwa, see Appendix IV "A Note on Kinship Terms".

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the patient dies, because he is so aggravated and embittered by the doctor's question, which implied that he had no people to attend him in such a matter as paying the doctor's fees and medicine charges. "To have no people" is one of the greatest insults that could be directed to any person. The song goes: A sick person asked the doctor to treat him. The doctor agreed, but enquired as to who was responsible for paying the expenses of treatment. The sick person replied: "O doctor, don't think that I am without support. I have a thousand people besides my paternal and maternal uncles." When the patient's mother heard the conversation, she offered the doctor her necklace and bracelets. When the father heard about this, he offered his land and property. When the sister heard about this, she offered her anklets and earrings. When his people (i.e. joint family) heard about this, they said "We shall all pay it with no fuss or difficulty". This support shows itself not only when the relatives and friends go to visit the sick person in the village, irrespective as to whether the disease is infectious or not, but also when they visit him in the hospital in town. If the person recovers from a serious illness, or comes back home after being away for some time, the people go to congratulate him for his recovery or for his return home by saying "Let us thank God for your safety". To take another example, if a cow or a camel has been seriously injured in an accident, it is killed, and the owner's relatives, neighbours, and friends are morally compelled to buy a portion of the meat to help compensate for the loss. If a person's animal dies he is consoled by others with the invocation "May God compensate you". Death is another major event in which the family finds itself supported by condolences and sympathies of kinsfolk. If the deceased belongs to the category of youngsters, condolence is compulsory on the clan and intimate friends only. If he belongs to the second and third categories of age groups (unmarried or adults) the whole village has to condole with the sufferers. In death, more than in any other event, kinship ties are the most important factor in deciding one's social obligations. It is incumbent on the close relatives both paternal and maternal, as well as in-laws, to stay away from work and remain in the guest house for ten or fifteen days, and frequently sleep there, or in the case of women, in the house of the deceased relative. Close relatives have to assist in conveying the funeral bier to the cemetery, to mourn the deceased more than others, and to send food to the guest house and to the house of the deceased, normally an obligation more upon the clan house-heads and the close maternal relatives than upon any others.

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The same solidarities and mutual family and clan obligations manifest themselves on occasions of rejoicing such as birth, circumcision and weddings, by sending gifts, food, by helping in the preparation of the ceremony, or at least by merely attending in the case of men or sending out a joy-cry in the case of women. Moreover, the social structure functions also as a means of mediation in the sectional frictions that are bound to arise. In the following example, which the writer witnessed, the head members of a clan mediated between two joint families to "level all the misunderstandings" between them. The dispute had arisen between the two joint families of 'Amareen and Karamsha, both belonging to the 'Amrab clan, Musiab section. Hag Ahmad 'Imran, the head of the first family, asked the Karamsha to lend him one of their camels to carry some maize straw from the field, but his request was refused because they alleged that they had no camels to spare as they were engaged in building a house. On another occasion, Hag Ahmad 'Imran insisted on taking the camel from one of the Karamsha while he was bringing water to be used in the building; people interfered and the matter was settled for the time being. After three days, he made another attempt and slapped the camel-driver, 'Othman, on the face, cursing his people. Othman, the offended man, could not retaliate as Hag Ahmad was the senior man of his family and older than he, and it is 'impolite' according to Arab traditions to slap such a man. People immediately gathered to settle this affair temporarily and prevent any further complications. Then Hag Ahmad's son came on the spot and started to insult Othman (who was his brother-in-law) and 'Othman, finding his equal, stood up to the challenge, but people intervened. The dispute, in spite of its temporary ending, had left "something in the souls of the two houses". The "residue in the souls" came up to the surface when the pilgrims from the clan came back from Mecca and had to be invited by the heads of the clan. The 'Amareen invited the Karamsha to co-operate, but the latter declined. In the meantime, it happened that a member of the Karamsha offered his help for the occasion but was refused by the 'Amareen. This added fuel to the fire and the situation between the two families became tense. Deputations and mediators went between the two families to fix an "Arab council" for arbitration. A respected and pious man suggested the family of Badawab for the purpose, but the Karamsha objected on the grounds that the former house was closely related to the 'Amareen. Then the arbitration was raised to the clan level and the Hasaballab clan from 'Onab section (to which neither side belonged) was suggested and this was accepted by both sides. On the appointed evening, the adult members of the two houses came to the Hasaballab guest house, where they were received and tea was served.

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The meeting started by the Hassaballab head clansman reciting " Wahhidouh a Gamaa - Say that God is one, Ο gathering". Everybody present answered, "There is no God but Allah, and Muhammad is his Prophet". Then the chosen head of the Hasaballab asked the Karamsha, "What is your story?" 'Abd-el-Gid, the head of the Karamsha, stated, "We are claiming duties from the 'Amareen". Then the head of the Hasaballab proposed that after sitting together in their guest house, the two sides should reconcile "on the white and the reading of Fatiha", meaning that they should root out the past misunderstandings, and should forget all about them without going into any argument. The Karamsha, however, who were the accusers, opposed the suggestion and insisted on their case being heard, and consequently their rights being acknowledged. The argument was stated by the head of the Karamsha speaking and being interrupted by members of the disputing house here and there, as well as by members of his house. Then Hag Ahmad 'Imran began to defend his case, and then free argument took place. One of the most effective devices in the Arab councils is the so-called mulakah (a getting tegether), where on any dilemma in the course of argument, one or two persons from the mediators take one person or more from the disputing sides for a mulakah to persuade him in a corner, or another room away from the general meeting, through personal and more intimate hearing to follow what the mediators proposed. Their usual form of pressure is to appeal to the person to "consider the Arabs, or the people, or his kinsfolk". The idea behind this device is to avoid any personal embarrassment or retreat in public, as this brings shame i'ar). If the retreat is accepted on a more intimate level, then the person has retreated owing to the pressure brought upon him because of personal ties or to his considerations to the "Arabs", yet such a formulation of retreat is only implicit. However, the mulakah which occurred three times during the meeting did not produce the required effects. The Hasaballab, the arbitrating clan, had then to go outside by themselves to agree on "the rights of the Arabs which no one now should fear to declare". The formulation of the verdict is very interesting as an index of the functioning elements of the social structure. The Hasaballab declared two decisions; the first was that Hag Ahmad 'Imran committed a double wrong by slapping Othman the camel-driver, and by not preventing, even by slapping, his son from getting entangled with Othman. The second decision was that the clan of 'Amrab, to which the two disputing families belong, had committed a mistake by not mediating between the two families in due time. As the disputants are morally compelled to accept the arbitration of whoever they agree upon to take this part, the 'Amareen had to shake

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hands with the Karamsha, followed by all present reading the Fatiha. Yet this was not the end of everything in this Arab council. Hag Ahmad 'Imran, feeling that injustice had been done to him, immediately declared that he "claimed rights from Hasaballab", meaning that he wanted to sue the arbitrating clan before another clan, a charge which they have to accept. The case now is between the 'Amareen and the Hasaballab, and they both agreed to appoint the 'Awadallab clan in the neighbouring village to take up the arbitration between them.14 If the Hasaballab's verdict is considered unjust, they have to pay the 'Amareen ten pounds; otherwise the 'Amareen have to pay the sum of ten pounds. The payment of money actually takes place, but it is always given back to the payer as 'Arab-coffee' and there is no appeal beyond this stage. The Arab council is the traditional agent for maintaining law and order in the village, and its composition and functioning reflect the traditional concept of authority. Prestige derived from age, experience, and sobriety combined with power attached to landowners and heads of large families who are well known for their hospitality, are the main qualifications for selection in these councils. Although these principles are not rigidly adhered to in the village itself, they are more observed in composing a council to arbitrate in a dispute in another village. Like Chan Kom, Silwa conceives of a hierarchy of power and responsibility. As in Tepoztlan, government is ideally a fatherly discharge of responsibility by the powerful and able to give benefit to all, but with lesser men taking lesser places.15 These Arab councils vary in their composition according to the gravity of the issue. They are formed frequently and spontaneously to settle disputes, but their proceedings are almost uniform. Women have similar gatherings for settling feminine disputes, but they are less formal and lack that atmosphere of solemnity that prevails in men's councils. Men's councils, however, could be convoked to settle women's conflicts creating disruption between two houses, and men are expected to plead the case of the women concerned and undertake the responsibility of making them abide by the council's decision. In the arguments that take place in these councils, one can hardly fail to notice the importance of the mediators appealing to the kinship idioms to minimize the insult or the loss, or the accusers to exaggerate the offence. "If my cousins, or brothers do so and so, how would others treat me? ..." It is also worth noticing that these Arab councils are held irrespective of civil law procedures. In the case of attack on somebody, or damage to fields or animals, the Arab council has to be formed to smooth the relations between the disputants. The norms and procedures of Arab councils are 14

I f

any clan or family is appealed to by both disputing parties for arbitration, it cannot refuse to act. 15 Robert Redfield, A Village that Chose Progress, p. 165.

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accepted by common consent as the basis of law and order as distinct from legalistic ways. To appeal to a remote and impersonal power vested in the local or national government is not a socially acceptable procedure, as any dispute should first be discussed by the people involved as well as those who mediate between them. My informant, Ali, regretted the fact that people do not nowadays accept reconciliation according to Arab council verdict, as they used to do; and much recourse is made to legal courts by 'brother against brother' and even father against son. It is also evident that these Arab councils perform a very useful psychological function. By airing disputes, and transferring the offence from one circle to another in the Arab council, aggression is dissipated and diffused. In settling damages in Arab councils, the amount has to be fixed by the gathering, but it is shameful not to return the compensation (awad) which should be declined by saying, "God compensates me in a better way". The following three instances are concrete situations showing the working of the social structure. The first is the installation of a new corn mill by all the clans in the village to bring to an end the monopoly of the already existing privately owned mill. The rough estimates were divided into 24 kirats (parts), each section responsible for collecting the money equivalent to its 12 kirats.16 In the second process of distribution, each section divides its share amongst the clans, and the head of each clan is responsible for collecting his share from family heads; by dividing his kirats into sahms, the people of his clan could buy a minimum of onetenth of a sahm. No section or clan could be helped or its shares be taken by another. It was interesting to listen to the village crier calling out the names of the clans and the two sections, to induce haste in collecting the money. Such procedure was followed for repairing the village mosque. In this case the question was not so much that of collecting money, as of recuiting the men to bring stone, water, straw, etc., for the repairs; and this was also dealt with on the same structural basis. The third instance was the allocation of new building land to the village, which was also first divided into two sections; then each section was divided into equal parts amongst its clans, which in turn had to divide its share among the families. The system of village government reflects a combination of central authority agents and the village social organization. The village head is an official called Omda who used to be elected from a list of five people who own not less than 10 feddans. Two years ago, the law was changed and the Omda is now elected from amongst thirteen people who own enough land to make them eligible. The job is unpaid, and it is reckoned 18

The feddan has 24 kirats, and each kirat 12 sahms.

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as a privilege to be elected. The Omda's seniority is something like the medieval primus inter pares. He represents the village on official occasions. One of his traditional and honorary functions is to receive guests, travellers, and government officials in his guest house. Silwa has also two unpaid Sheikhs, each representing one of the two sections of the village and thus commonly referred to as Sheikh hissa; these are also elected from amongst those who are eligible (minimum requirement was 5 feddans, now being relaxed). The Omda and the two sheikhs settle the disputes that arise in the village, usually with the aid of Arab councils, or with the help of people whom they select on different occasions. Each sheikh is primarily concerned with the problems of his section (hissa). The central government is represented by the police headquarters with a police officer or constable in charge and policemen and ghafeers. While the policemen are always from outside the village, the ghafeers are villagers, put up usually from different clans, acting as the Omda's messengers, as well as the local agents between the village and the police headquarters. From the point of view of central government, the province of Aswan is divided into three centres (Markaz) with a Mamour in charge of each. Aswan is the capital of the province where the Mudeeriah lies with a Mudeer at the top. Another incident which occurred during the writer's field work reflects the villagers' pride in their ancestry, working as a cohesive force. Clan heads and other representatives from the village paid a visit to a town called Bardis in Girga Province. The visit was in return for a visit paid by a group of people from Bardis who came to invite the Silwanians to Bardis to establish and confirm their holy descent as being related to the Q'afra. This idea had started when some pilgrims from Silwa met others from the same stock coming from Bardis. Immediately they tried to find out whether they were related; genealogies were cited; and they discovered that they were connected in lineage. The group in Bardis seized upon this chance as their status amongst the other families in Bardis had not hitherto been accepted as equivalent; they thus wished to confirm their status as of 'holy origin'. The group that visited Bardis for this purpose was, of course, composed of the clan heads, or their eldest sons, "people who could converse", a learned religious man, and two elderly men well conversant in genealogies. On their arrival at Bardis they were generously entertained for four days. After the visit, the group from Bardis wrote in al-Ahram, one of the widely circulated newspapers, thanking their "paternal cousins" for the honour they had done them by their visit. The desire for kinship relationship arises, if not in such a spectacular manner, on occasions of everyday life. It is not unusual to find village folk eager to establish some kinship relation with a stranger in the train, or with a casual guest in the guest house. To address people politely is to call

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them by kinship idioms. Villagers, as well as town and city dwellers, on enquiring about the way, begin, for example, by saying, "O brother", or "O paternal uncle, could you tell me the way to so and so". In letter writing it is very common for friends to address each other by saying, "My dear brother", and to write the appropriate kinship term on the envelope. Yet the kinship structure carries within itself the defects and weaknesses of its strength. It not only functions as a cohesive and articulating force, but equally as a source of friction and sectional bias. Because the village is so mixed up in blood relationships, it suffers from all the intrigues and maladjustment that emanate from so much impinging of social relationships. The disharmony occurs not only between families or clans, but also between very close kin. If it is claimed that every culture is characterized by a major type conflict, upon which the minor and atypical conflicts of the individual are patterned, then Silwa community suffers greatly from the stresses and strains that obtain between relatives.17 Whether the cause is division of land, marriage problems, or reputation and prestige, endless friction, disputes, and uneasy relations occur. Brother is pitted against brother, father against son, mother against daughter, and so on between the various other categories of relatives. In fact, some of the popular sayings indicate that the relation between kin is pregnant with friction and discord. It is said that "relatives are like scorpions", "the relative's pot never reaches the boiling point" and "who brings disasters but relatives?" It is also indicative of the uneasy side of connections between relatives to hear that it is from the relatives more than others that one should guard against the effects of the evil eye. The 'in-law' relationship also plays an important part in the harmony or discord that pervades a family atmosphere. Whether brothers live together as one economic unit, or whether a father "repulses" his married son, depends to a great extent on the congeniality of the brother's wives, or the son's wife and her people. In this particular context, the conflict is usually one between the structurally sanctioned behaviour between the brothers and the new situation created by marriage and children to two different women. Thus ideally brothers should marry sisters to minimize disputes over the children or domestic affairs, and this is probably one of the reasons for the preferential marriage of cousins. In the case of a married son, the parents have priority over the wife and her people, as descent is the structural keynote to behaviour in this situation. Indeed a great deal of friction and uneasiness in relationship is due to the fact that the individual in some situations is unable to strike a balance 17

G. Devereux, "Mohave Beliefs concerning Twins", in American Anthropologist, 1940, pp. 588-589.

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between the structural behaviour on one hand, and the exigencies of life and personal feelings on the other hand. A great deal of the diffused and overt aggression that is prevalent in this community is partly due to the 'bottling up' of personal and spontaneous feeling, or at least to the very limited scope for its outlet or for its direct expression in action. A few examples of dispute, illustrating this point can be given. Two brothers were married to two sisters, and were living in one compound working together, and forming an economic unit. The wife of the younger brother died, and he remarried a girl who was unrelated to the brother's wife. Immediately intrigues and friction arose, and the two brothers had to separate. The friction cropped up again when the older brother got his daughter married to a cousin of theirs, while his brother had a boy who was considered socially more eligible because he was the girl's cousin through both father and mother. This event brought the brothers to nonspeaking terms and 'Arabs' tried twice to reconcile them, but met with no success. Another interesting case was of a father suing his son before the court and trying to denounce him as his son. The cause was the rage of the father alleging that his son had made himself a nuisance in the village by his gossip, his writing of complaints against people to the official authorities in the central government, and on top of that, he had married without the father's approval. Another dispute between two brothers was where the younger accused the older of being a spendthrift, and in his extravagance, mainly due to his wife, he 'spoilt' the reputation of the family by borrowing from other people though he earned more than his younger brother. In spite of the often repeated admonition of the younger, the older brother persisted in his ways. The misunderstanding became acute when both agreed to build a new house, the younger undertaking the expenses of the building, to be paid by his brother for his share, which he had not done. The dispute flared up again when the older brother got his daughter married without consulting the younger brother. Another dispute which has been dragging on for a considerable time is that over the office of Omda. For the last fifty years the office had been in one family. The death of the previous Omda started the strife between his sons from different mothers. He had six children from one wife and five from another. During his lifetime, the two houses united in service and respect for the father in spite of the seamy side of relationship. Immediately he died ten years ago, the suppressed rivalries and jealousies flared up. The sons disagreed as to who was to be elected for the office. An Arab council met and decided to put up the second son from the first wife (as the first son was illiterate).18 The other house had to submit to 18

After the death of an Omda his sons are usually considered for succession; in fact, the Omda's sons, even during his lifetime, are addressed as Omdas.

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the decisions of the council; yet the rivalry never died down, and the brothers from the other house still waited their chance. After devious intrigues, the Omda was suspended for corrupt conduct related to the system of rationing. After the lengthy court procedures which took almost a whole year, he was found not guilty. The time for filling the vacant post of Omda came, and the deposed Omda as well as the eldest brother of the other house entered their names officially as candidates. It is interesting to note that the three surviving uncles of the two candidates were with the new one. One of the main reasons for their not supporting the deposed Omda was that he did not treat them as paternal uncles as they expected him to do. Moreover, on certain occasions he insisted that they should stand for him, as they used to do for his father - an attitude they resented. On the election day both the candidates went to the Mudeeriah in Aswan, followed by dozens of their supporters. The new candidate gained the office this time; thereupon, the other house started their intrigues to depose him. A mother quarrelled with her son because he did not give her as much attention and economic support as he did his wife. The son had to leave the village and took a domestic job in Cairo. The mother sued her son in the court because he did not support her in old age while he was earning money. Indeed a great deal of discord occurs as a result of the conflicts between the loyalties and obligations towards 'the family of orientation' and 'the conjugal family* and the 'in-law' relatives. It is often said that the newly married person has two minds, to denote the potential friction in the new situation; and to the extent they are in harmony he can be secure in his new status. Many marriages actually break down because of the friction between parents, sisters or brothers, and wife or mother-in-law. This seems to be a common feature of patriarchal societies where the main emphasis is not on marriage as such, but on its wider social implications, being an institution relating two families and whose foundation is not 'romantic love' but having children.19 Such instances, and many others, show the delicacy of the relations in the kinship pattern. It is worth noticing that such delicacy is more on the paternal than the maternal side where the scope or the manifestations of tension are not so wide or numerous. Although such friction amongst kin is a valid element in their behaviour towards each other, it cannot obviate certain corporate structural symbols of social behaviour. If, for instance, a man is attacked or publicly insulted, his brother or cousin must stand with him in spite of whatever conflicts are hitherto outstanding. If an uncle dies, his cousins must attend the burial ceremony and 'passionately' " See Talcott Parsons, "The Kinship System of the Contemporary United States", in American Anthropologist, Vol. XLV, 1943.

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mourn him. Gifts and money must be exchanged on occasions such as circumcision and wedding irrespective of the nature of personal relationship. Absence from the village is not an excuse for not performing one's obligations. Villagers in towns or cities have to mourn publicly their deceased in cafes or other places where others from Silwa,'residing there, come to condole with them. On their return to the village they must perform the mourning rituals for close kin by weeping on their way from the station to the house, or if the deceased is a distant relative, by visiting his people, in spite of the lapse of time. On the whole, severing personal relationship for any reason does not necessarily mean ignoring one's corporate relationships by forfeiting any of the rights or shirking any of the duties. Cutting across these bilateral kinship ties is a flow of inter-personal relationships which are not caught up in corporate bonds. This is what Professor Fortes designates as ties of 'related by birth kinship'. Cognatic ties are in contradistinction to agnatic ties, which primarily stress the corporate duties and rights and the solidarity of the social groupings, at the expense of the individual's private interests. Cognatic ties both within and across the kinship system differ from the agnatic in one important respect. In Fortes' words: "They are ties of amity and mutual interest between individuals. Private rights and duties and personal loyalties prevail as against corporate rights. They represent the recognition that the direct social bonds of individual with individual are as vital for the wellbeing of the society as the fixed framework of corporate groupings. This sense of interdependence of men as individuals in the hard struggle of ordinary living, not only transcends the more rigid solidarities of the family, lineage ... but also counteracts the friction and disturbances that constantly spring up in the relations of individuals with one another". 20 The adoption of Fortes' distinction and its implication is not arbitrary in this context, as it coincides almost completely with the two categories of relationship in the village. The agnatic kinship ties correspond to the 'Karaib' category while cognate kinship ties correspond to the 'Habaib' category. As one co-operates, for example, with relatives, one also selects a distantly related person or group, calling them 'Habaib', to co-operate with, and in this case a kinship term might be given to him or them as 'cousins'. The two categories are clearly distinguished in the sphere of mutual obligations, for in the case of cognatic ties, misunderstanding and friction would stop that form of social duties between the two sides.

M

M. Fortes, The Web of Kinship, pp. 343-344.

Μ. Awad

LIVING CONDITIONS OF NOMADIC, SEMI-NOMADIC AND SETTLED TRIBAL GROUPS*

The tribal groups of the Middle East are considered by Awad in their three phases: nomadic, semi-nomadic and settled. An effort is being made by several governments to settle nomads into some permanent kind of integration into the national states and economies. Mr. Awad has covered the main points of this attempt at planned cultural change.

NOMADIC GROUPS

Throughout the lands of the Middle East, tribes and tribal groups are widely spread, but they do not constitute the whole population and seldom even a majority of the population in any political unit, except in Saudi Arabia. Tribal groups are usually classified into nomadic, semi-nomadic and sedentary tribes, their essential characteristic being that their members are distinguished by belonging to a specific group, and not to a specific place, village or town. They retain this characteristic even when they constitute a fixed agricultural community. At present 'pure' nomads, leading a wandering life, are relatively few, probably not exceeding 750,000 throughout the area under consideration. Semi-nomadic tribes in the same countries would probably reach about 2 million, while sedentary groups with a tribal organization should easily * Mohamed Awad, "Settlement of Nomadic and Semi-Nomadic tribal groups in the Middle-East", International Labor Review, Vol. 79, No. 1, p. 26. Mr. Awad was Minister of Education of Egypt and is at present visiting Professor at the University of Cairo.

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reach, or even exceed, 5 million. It is impossible to give a more accurate figure since the usual official statistical sources contain only rough estimates with regard to all these categories, especially the wandering nomads. The size of a tribe varies considerably, according to environment and occupation, and tends to increase under sedentary or semi-sedentary conditions. Absolute nomadism has a restrictive influence on size, because of the need for maintaining a certain amount of contact among members while pursuing a nomadic existence. A nomadic tribe is usually counted by tents; and while some very powerful tribes, like the Ruwala, may consist of some 3,500 tents, a much more modest figure of about one thousand or even a few hundred is more generally the rule. If a tribe grows beyond a certain point under nomadism, it begins almost automatically to disintegrate into tribal sections, which subsequently develop into separate tribes, occupy different domains and are often in conflict with one another. A very good example of this is the 'Anaza tribe, widely spread throughout Arabia and the Fertile Crescent, and consisting of over 20,000 tents, which has split up into several conflicting sub-tribes.1 A tribe which becomes partly or wholly sedentary often grows to considerable proportions, in accordance with the growth of the means of subsistence. The Hadendowa of the Sudan, a Beja tribe of over 100,000, and the Awlad 'Ali of Egypt, who probably exceed that number, are good examples of semi-nomadic tribes which have increased steadily in the past fifty years. It is true that some of this growth is due to the absorption of smaller tribal sections, but it could not have taken place under purely nomadic conditions. The characteristics of the purely nomadic tribe cannot be discussed here in full. It is important to note, however, that no tribe, no matter how nomadic it may be, leads an indefinite wandering life, without any regard to prescribed routes and landmarks. The nomads we are dealing with are pastoral nomads, with large herds of camels and a few other animals. They are habitually on the move, travelling sometimes by day and sometimes by night according to the season, for about nine months in the year. But in these wanderings, whose object is to procure water and pasture for their herds, they follow fairly fixed routes, and usually return to the point from which they started. Here they generally loiter a little longer, to dispose of their surplus animals and buy much of their provisions ; and it is this 'starting point' which habitually determines the land or country to which they 'belong'. Throughout their wanderings, however, they keep to lands and wadis, wells and springs and oases, which they claim as their own; and as long as they can defend their claim by force of arms, there are few who care to 1

See C. Daryll Forde, Habitat, Economy and Society, 7th ed. (London, Methuen, 1949), p. 310.

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contest it, except when hostilities are intended. Tribal boundaries are often the subject of dispute and this merely expresses the conception that each tribe has its own land, with its water and pasture, and should not trespass beyond its limits. It is of course possible that some Bedouin might ask permission to graze their cattle on the lands of another tribe; such permission is seldom denied, but the fact that it must be sought demonstrates the right of each tribe to its land. Such lands are of course mostly arid with some grazing patches, wells and even springs scattered here and there. But no matter how arid a land may be, it is never sufficiently barren to be considered worthless.2 It is always claimed by some tribe and defended to the utmost against any encroachment. But as soon as a tribe detects any weakness in any of its neighbours - and Bedouin are extremely sensitive to such signs of weakness - they at once engage in hostilities, with the object of acquiring all or part of their neighbours' land. The nomads thus lead a wandering life, with a fairly fixed annual cycle, generally following the same routes. They usually travel in rather small bands of about twenty to thirty tents, in order to avoid crowding at wells and pastures. A good example of a nomadic tribe is the Ruwala of Eastern Syria, who congregate in their 'homeland', east of Damascus during the summer and early autumn. Here they sell their surplus animals and purchase their provisions, mostly flour, dates, rice, coffee and sugar, and some articles of clothing. Late in September they begin their trek, passing the winter in the Syrian desert, and the spring in the oases of Jauf and Tayma in north-western Arabia before they begin their return journey back to Syria. The area in which these wanderings take place is about 500 miles long as the crow flies from north to south, and about 300 miles from east to west, but as the Ruwala pursue a somewhat irregular course it is probable that in their annual wanderings they cover some 1,500 miles. Political boundaries between modern States are naturally a handicap to such large-scale wanderings. There is always some agreement between neighbouring countries, however, so that no serious hardships are encountered, except perhaps with regard to the boundaries of Israel.3 * See C. S. Jarvis, Yesterday and To-day in Sinai (Edinburgh and London, William Blackwood and Sons, 1931), pp. 60 and 67, and Abbas Ammar, The Eastern Gates to Egypt (published by the author in Arabic, Cairo, 1946), p. 142. Governments do not admit this right of ownership. They allow the nomads to use the lands but reserve the right to take it away at any time. Governments, however, are interested in the limits of the land occupied by each tribe, as a means of fixing the responsibility for crimes committed. a See Ahmed Al-Akkam, "The Tribes of Syria", in Report and Contributions of Scholars in the Fourth Seminar on Social Problems (hereafter referred to as Arab League Seminar) (published in Arabic by the Arab League, Cairo, 1954), pp. 10301036.

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Μ. Awad Sketch Map of Ruwala Territory

Limits of Ruwala territory

Areas occupied seasonally

Land above 500 metres

SOURCE :

After C . Daryll Forde: "The North Arabian Badawin", in Geography (Sheffield, The Geographical Association), Vol. 18, 1933, p. 209. The numbers refer to pastures occupied seasonally as follows: 1. Winter (la. Richest in winter); 2. Spring; 3. Occupied in winter when rains are good or usual pastures fail; 4. Occupied when pastures fail to the north and west; 5. Summer (oasis settlements).

Nomadic tribes in the Middle East are, as already noted, camelherders. Camels constitute their wealth and are a symbol of their social standing. They supply the Bedouin's staple diet - milk - and enable him to buy necessities, find the dowry for one or more wives, and pay the diya or blood-money. He may possess other animals, such as horses for raids and perhaps some sheep, goats and donkeys. But wealth and importance depend on the quantity and quality of the camel-herds, and in order to have the largest possible herds, all sources of grass and water,

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no matter how distant, are utilised. This means that the wanderings of the nomads are very extensive indeed. Some camel-herdsmen used to engage in trade, and carry merchandise across the desert, an occupation which often proved very profitable. Sometimes they themselves owned the merchandise, and sometimes they acted merely as carriers who organised caravans between such centres as Damascus, Mecca, and Aden; or between Tadmor, Baghdad and Samarkand; or, in Africa between Biskra and Timbuctoo. Until fairly recently they used to carry and accompany pilgrims to Mecca, or transport goods under contract for governments or other agencies. Of such regular caravans very little remains; and the only relics of such conditions to be encountered are the occasional itinerant merchants who accompany the Bedouin and sell their goods at different camps along the route. Another type of trading takes the form of driving camels long distances to dispose of them in some profitable market. Such are, for instance, the journeys undertaken by the Kababish from Kordofan in the northern Sudan, who travel about 2,000 miles to bring a few hundred head of camel to the Cairo market, returning home by train and boat.

SEMI-NOMADIC GROUPS

Semi-nomadic groups possess few camels. In fact, in countries like Syria and Iraq, the principal distinction between nomads and semi-nomads is that the latter mainly breed sheep. They usually live in huts built of mud and straw, and their mobility is far more restricted. As a rule they carry out a certain amount of cultivation, and may possess date-palm groves or other gardens. The following may be considered a fair description of a semi-nomadic tribe, the Jawabis of the western (Libyan) desert of Egypt: The nomadic Jawabis are for the most part still settled in and around Wadi Natrun .... [They are] a hospitable tribe who lead a shepherd's life and encamp there every winter with their flocks. They are employed during this time carrying natrun and prickly reeds; they also have some traffic in dates, which they fetch in caravans from Siwa in the Ammonian Oasis .... These Arabs are marabouths, or peaceful people ... they never make war, and only take up arms to defend themselves .... They share with the Awlad 'Ali in the date traffic with Bahariya Oasis, where the produce of the village of Mandisha is reserved for them.4 These Jawabis represent one type of semi-nomadism whose principal characteristic is that the tribe as a whole engages in various activities which include agriculture in Wadi Natrun, sheep-raising, and several 4

Murray, op. cit., pp. 279ff.

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carrying arrangements, including traffic in the date crops of distant oases. They own just enough camels for the last type of activity. There is, however, another type of semi-nomadism, also common in the Libyan desert, the principal feature of which is that a tribe is divided into two parts, one leading a fairly settled agricultural life, and the other a completely nomadic one, with camel-herding as its main occupation. The two sections maintain a semblance of social unity, having one Sheikh for the whole tribe, but in day-to-day matters the two are quite independent. SETTLED TRIBAL GROUPS

Tribal groups which lead a completely sedentary life with agriculture as their main occupation are very common throughout the Middle East. They have abandoned their wandering life, but retain their tribal organization. They usually occupy lands in rather close proximity to the desert, their previous 'homeland'. This is quite obvious in the Nile Delta, where the eastern and western fringes are mostly settled by tribal agricultural communities. In most instances their conversion to sedentary life has been fairly recent. But this is not necessarily the case everywhere. Some tribes have been settled on the land for a fairly long time, and still continue to maintain their tribal solidarity and refuse to intermarry with the earlier settlers or fellaheen. Feuds have persisted between the two sections sometimes for one or two centuries. A good example of this is afforded by the Hawara of Upper Egypt, now mostly in the province of Qena. They at one time dominated a considerable part of Upper Egypt, but though their political power is a thing of the past, they still maintain their tribal cohesion, and refuse to give their daughters in marriage even to a wealthy fellahThe problem of merging the tribal and non-tribal groups may be somewhat different from that of converting the nomads to sedentary life, but it represents a further step in the same direction. Tribal rivalries and jealousies have been disturbing factors, in which a great deal of the less agreeable features of nomadic life have been retained, sometimes even in an accentuated form. Again, the prominence given to local tribal solidarity has often been a handicap in the development of a national spirit and outlook. It is therefore not enough from the point of view of the country's welfare merely to settle the nomads; they must also be socially integrated.

THE NOMADIC WAY OF LIFE

Nomadism, as a way of life, is characterised by simplicity and frugality, 6

Awad, op. cit., p. 251.

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and those who practise it acquire the habit of freedom and the dislike of control and limitation imposed by authority of any kind. Even Sheikhs exercise what little influence they may have over their tribes by means of their character, liberality and hospitality. They begin to acquire greater influence when relations with a central government are established, and the authorities find it more convenient to deal with the head of the tribe. But under pure nomadic conditions the head of a tribe is by no means a despot ruling over its members.6 Nomads are supposed to roam with their herds over lands which are suited only for nomadic life, where grass grows only in widely separated patches, and where the water supply is so scanty and so difficult to obtain that, although it can be drawn to water the camels, its utilisation for agriculture would be beyond the normal capacities of the nomad. If the nomad kept strictly to land of this kind he might not present such a very serious problem to other populations. But he has invariably encroached on the land of settled agricultural communities. His 'contact' with such communities assumes one of two forms, being either sudden and temporary or prolonged and enduring. The first is characterised by a sudden raid, in the course of which cattle are lifted, grain seized and other property carried away. Such raids are part of the general pattern of nomadic life and are frequently carried out by nomads against each other as well. The raid is led by a special leader, Al-'Aqid, and in its simplest form may be accomplished at dawn and completed before anybody in the attacked tents or village is aware of what has happened, until he wakes up to find that property is missing.7 Against such raids the settled agricultural population have very little protection, especially where the country is administratively disorganised. The more enduring kind of contact with nomads is characterised by more persistent penetration, in the course of which the sedentary agricultural community becomes tributary to some powerful tribe, which exacts a heavy price for protecting the villagers against other nomads. This has frequently led to the emigration of the peasants, and the occupation of their lands by nomadic herdsmen. In this way much agricultural land in the Middle East has become a 'nomad's land'. This is particularly the case with lands requiring elaborate irrigation, by means of canals and regulators. But throughout the whole of the Middle East vast areas which legitimately belong to agriculture have been taken over by pastoral nomads. This has always occurred in the absence of a strong central government. As soon as such a government comes to existence, the frontiers of nomadism begin to retreat further and further back towards the original nomad's land. • '

Murray, op. cit., p. 42. Murray, op. cit., p. 134.

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We thus note that the frontiers of nomadism have undergone considerable fluctuations throughout history, and their expansion has been in direct proportion to the weakness of the central government. It follows from this that nomads as such are not particularly interested in the existence of a strong, firmly established government, and any limitations on their freedom which the authorities try to impose are resented. The normal duties of all citizens, like the payment of taxes and conscription, are specially hated; a deep suspicion of the government and its officials invariably exists in the mind of all nomads, and this takes some considerable time to overcome. Agriculture is distasteful to the nomad because it deprives him of the freedom so dear to his heart, involves considerable manual labour, which he detests, and forces him to carry out work which he often relegated to his slaves or servants, or to those settled peasants over whom he tyrannised; besides this, it is irksome to his free and roaming habits to have to settle down in one and the same spot, and to submit to all the restrictions imposed by government agents of all kinds. G. W. Murray describes the normal life of the Bedouin in the following terms: The male Arab is quite content to pass the day smoking, chatting and drinking coffee. Herding the camels is his only office. All the work of erecting tents, looking after sheep and goats and bringing water, he leaves to his women.8 The pastoral nomad has accordingly been described as exceedingly indolent. Major Jarvis speaks of the Sinai Bedouin in the following terms: Suggest to an Arab that he should take a fas and put in an hour's work cutting a water-channel to his cultivation, and he will wear the expression of a martyr going to the stake; and if one takes one's eyes off him for a moment, he will probably fade away with his family to Palestine for a year to escape the task.® Other quotations could be given. But with all his indolence the Bedouin could organise and execute a raid, involving exceptional physical hardship and endurance; nor, in all his native festivities and celebrations, does he show the slightest indolence. The problem seems to be that he is indolent when the work is distasteful to him. There is also some evidence in the opposite direction. When visiting Sinai in 1934, Ammar was informed by the European manager of the manganese mines that many Bedouin were employed at the mines, who, after some training, became capable workers.10 The Arabian American Oil Company (Aramco) employs over 20,000 Arabs, most of whom have a nomadic background. 8

Ibid., p. 60. ' Jarvis, op. cit., pp. 25ff. Fas is Arabic for a kind of pick. Note that Major Jarvis was referring to a Bedouin who already practised some cultivation. 10 Ammar, op. cit., p. 188.

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It may be argued that certain types of gainful occupations, under favourable circumstances, might be quite agreeable to the Bedouin, but that agriculture as a rule is not one of them. Nevertheless there have been many cases where whole tribes or tribal sections have gradually settled down to an agricultural life with all its hated drudgeries, which, in course of time, became less and less hated. This has occurred in the Sudan among both the Beja and the Arab tribes in Saudi Arabia and the Fertile Crescent, while in Egypt the assimilation of the nomads is going on all the time.11 It seems, therefore, that the conversion of the Bedouin from nomadism to a sedentary life is not impossible of accomplishment. It is also likely that nomadic groups vary in their attitude towards agriculture and that many of them would be more easily persuaded than others. It is probable that the Bedouin who have come into closer contact with settled life would be less reluctant to change their methods and would take more kindly to agriculture. In any case the nomad never turns into a firstclass peasant overnight; a little time, sometimes even one or two generations, must be allowed before a purely nomadic group becomes a fairly good agricultural community.

METHODS OF ENCOURAGING THE SETTLEMENT OF NOMADIC A N D SEMI-NOMADIC TRIBES

It will be clear from the foregoing that no initiative can be expected from the nomads themselves toward their own permanent settlement. The initiative must come from the authority directly interested in such a development, namely the government of the State in whose lands the nomad carries on most of his wanderings. The first important factor, therefore, in the settlement of nomads, is the existence of a strong central government with an interest in the establishment of peace and order, and in the welfare of the land and all its inhabitants. One of its urgent duties must be to work out a policy for dealing with nomadic groups, usually aiming at their complete or partial settlement. Whether from humanitarian, political, economic, strategic or administrative motives, such a result must be achieved as quickly as possible. Two methods readily suggest themselves: coercion or persuasion, or a subtle mixture of the two. There is little doubt that for lasting and beneficial results persuasive methods are far more effective than any kind of compulsion. Most governments of the Middle East, without in any way overlooking the disagreeable characteristics of nomadism, look 11

Awad, op. cit. The whole of this paper should be read in conjunction with the present article.

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upon the nomads more as an asset than a liability, and have initiated definite programmes for their settlement. The methods which help to bring about the partial or complete settlement of nomadic groups may be classified as indirect or direct. Indirect Methods. - Indirect methods are those which have another objective than that of settling nomads. Among the most important of these is the construction of railway lines, like that extending from Alexandria to the Libyan frontier, from Cairo across Sinai to Palestine, from Atbara to Port-Sudan, and the whole railway development in Iraq. Roads for motor traffic also prove useful, but are not as effective as railways. Many individuals are employed on their construction, including a considerable number of nomads. They help to build railway stations along the route, thereby creating centres of contact, some of which soon develop into public service centres, where a school, a clinic and a weekly market are soon established, and where the authority of the government is more effectively exercised. The digging of the Suez Canal was never intended as a means of controlling nomads. Nevertheless it has helped to create a ribbon of settled life in the middle of the desert and has limited the movements and inter-tribal raids between Sinai and the Eastern Egyptian Desert. But by far the most interesting developments in this direction are those connected with the production and transport of oil. The labour for such gigantic undertakings is never made up entirely of nomads, but there is always a large proportion of them, and they thereby become accustomed to regular employment, a settled home, new trades, and in fact a new way of life. There are also the more subtle psychological effects, which are difficult to assess, produced by contact with a strong civilisation and its representatives. The number of native Arabs directly employed in the oil industry throughout the Middle East may reach about 50,000 to 60,000. In addition there are large numbers of small tradesmen, workers and others employed in auxiliary duties, and rendering services to the oil communities. Again, the prosperous governments and their agencies have several undertakings involving the large-scale employment of labour, so that the impact on the population must not be measured solely by the number of the individuals directly employed by the oil concerns. Another important result of the oil operations has been the realisation that, in the desert, oil is not the only valuable liquid. The companies have therefore given special attention to the tapping of any water resources which can be found anywhere in the area of their concession. Thus both government and commercial enterprises, whose operations may not be directly concerned with the problem of the settlement of no-

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mads, have helped considerably, though indirectly, towards its solution. Direct Methods. - There are, however, special schemes which are directly concerned with helping the nomads to lead a sedentary life, or at least a less nomadic one. The nomads themselves could not, even if they wished, carry out any schemes of this kind, which must remain the main concern of the public authorities of each country. These schemes aim, in the first place, at providing water for agriculture. The water resources remain the same, and cannot be increased; but they can be stored or tapped, and made available for cultivation at the proper time and in the most effective manner possible. The storing of river water at flood time for subsequent use for irrigation has been the most important undertaking in this respect throughout the Middle East, and has produced the greatest results. The rivers whose water is dammed up and stored, are sometimes of a fair size like the Tigris and Euphrates and their tributaries, or rather small like the Khor Baraka and the Khor-al-Gash in the Sudan. Sometimes even desert wadis in which flooding takes place somewhat irregularly, like the Wadiel-'Arish in Sinai, can be utilised in the same way, though of course on a much smaller scale. Another source of water for cultivation is the scanty rainfall which is characteristic of the southern Mediterranean coastal belt, from 15 to 30 miles wide, stretching from Libya to Palestine. Another area with scanty rainfall is eastern Syria, Jordan, northern Iraq and parts of Saudi Arabia. Both in Libya and in Sinai, a rainfall ranging from 4 to 8 inches on the coast makes it possible for some grass to grow, but most of it percolates through to the lower layers, where it mingles with the seawater seeping through the sand. The fresh water, however, lies in a layer above the salt water and, where a large subterranean cavity exists, substantial quantities of fresh water are stored and easily tapped. In this way, fairly large settlements, like Borg-el-Arab, Marsa Matruh, Sallum and 'Arish, are able to grow and prosper. These subterranean waters were already utilised in Roman times, but were subsequently neglected, until their modern revival. They are now being more extensively developed by oil-driven and wind-driven pumps. The latter method is gaining favour now; the regularity of the trade-winds is an important consideration; the cost is small and one wind-pump is considered adequate for the irrigation of 5 acres of land; and as it requires little maintenance, or mechanical skill, it seems best suited to the Bedouin's temperament. In addition to river and rain, there are of course wells and springs, scattered throughout the desert, which are apparently independent of both rain and river. Some springs actually burst out of the rocks, and

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one such spring might be adequate for the irrigation of 20 or 30 acres. But most wells are of a deep variety, and need some power for bringing their water to the surface. Only when, their water is abundant can such wells be utilised for cultivation. The oases in the heart of the desert usually occupy depressions, with an adequate water-supply from springs and shallow wells. They constitute areas of sedentary life, where agricultural communities have been in existence for many centuries. In times of weak central government these communities are exploited and black-mailed by the nomads. Many of their villages were built in the form of large fortifications, though this availed but little. They often became vassals, tributary to some powerful tribe. At one time even the Faiyum, so close to the centre of government in Cairo, suffered the same fate. Some nomadic groups claim ownership of certain oases, and what cultivation there may be is carried out by their slaves or servants. The most successful governments have found it necessary not only to provide water but also a certain measure of education. This does not merely refer to learning the 'three R V, however desirable this may be, but also to learning methods of dry farming and other ways of conserving water resources; for, contrary to what might be expected, the Bedouin becomes very wasteful when he sees large supplies of water provided without any effort on his part. The provision of school education for the children of nomads during their wanderings is still in the experimental stage. Tribes seldom wander in sufficiently large numbers to justify the provision of some kind of travelling school, though there have been some attempts in this direction. Some have as part of their organization a mullah or learned man, who is versed in the history of the tribe and its laws and traditions. He often acts as liaison with the authorities.12 But since there is only one such distinguished individual in a tribe, which may be on the move in small separate groups during nine months of the year, he can hardly be expected to fulfill the additional duties of instructor. As contact has, however, been established almost everywhere between the Bedouin and the agencies of modern governments, the benefits of state-sponsored education have been brought to the notice, and within the reach, of almost all the tribes. Those who wish to benefit by such facilities can perhaps find room in a boarding school, or leave their children in the care of some of their relatives who lead a less wandering existence. Recent statistics published by the Frontiers Administration of Egypt show that school attendance in Sinai, for instance, amounts to 8,000 boys and 1,100 la See Abdul Jalil Al-Tahir, Bedouins and Tribes in Arab Countries (in Arabic) (Cairo, The Arab League, 1955), p. 17.

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girls (total population 50,000). Although the schools tend to be concentrated in large centres like 'Arish, they are sufficiently dispersed throughout the Sinai Peninsula to be within reach of all the tribes. There is, however, no information on the extent to which nomads make use of such education, beyond a general statement that "Bedouins have begun to send their children to the schools in large numbers, despite their general poverty".13 The settlement of nomads throughout the Middle East is thus being brought about by direct and indirect methods. Progress has not been made everywhere at the same rate. Fairly quick results have been achieved in lands which, until fairly recently, were devoted to agriculture, and where water resources are abundant. In other cases progress has been slow and characterised by a transitional stage of some kind of seminomadism. In such cases the Bedouin divides the year into two parts: one for wandering and the other for some kind of cultivation. He will prepare the ground, sow the seeds (usually provided free by the government), and then depart with his flocks for a few months, returning later for the harvest. But even the Bedouin must realise by now that nomadic life has no longer the same 'attractions' it used to possess. The freedom it conferred has been severely curtailed; the nomad can no longer raid a neighbouring or distant camp or attack a caravan while the authorities are maintaining their usual vigilance. He sometimes protests that the desert is his own land to do with what he likes; but he does not dare to persist in such a claim. His Bedouin code is no longer allowed to govern the affairs of the nomads, either among themselves or with their neighbours. Any case of murder, theft or crime of any kind is dealt with by the competent state authorities, which apply laws specially enacted to meet desert conditions. In some countries they may still allow tribal committees to judge special minor cases, but a member of the state administration is always present at such committees. Little wonder then that the number of nomads has been drastically reduced in the last fifty or sixty years, until it can scarcely exceed 1 per cent, of the total population of the Middle East.

PROBLEMS FOLLOWING SETTLEMENT

As previously indicated, no matter how desirable it may be to settle the nomads, they continue for some time to present certain problems to the State even after they have ceased to wander. Because a tribe is usually settled in a well-defined piece of land, it is able to maintain its original unity and some at least of its social institu13

See Report of the Frontiers Administration, Egypt (1957), especially pp. 25 and 32.

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tions. For a considerable number of years the tribe does not merge with the rest of the population. Some of its social institutions, such as the habit of marrying a young woman to her paternal cousin, are harmless enough. This custom is so deeply rooted, that no girl can possibly accept an offer of marriage, even from a distant relative, until her cousin, the son of her paternal uncle, has given his consent. One of the interesting results of this persistent in-breeding is the close physical similarity of all members of the same tribe. "The Sheikh of Muzaina says he has only to look at a Sinai Arab to be able to say which tribe he comes from". 14 But a first cousin represents only a man's first wife; for his second, third or fourth he usually goes farther afield, because the males have the liberty to take as their wife even a daughter of the despised fellaheen, whereas their own daughters could never be given to a fellah. More objectionable habits, however, also persist, such as blood revenge, feuds, and a lack of respect for the property of neighbours. But the most serious problem in the recently sedentarised Bedouin society is the growth of the power of the Sheikh, or head of the tribe. For reasons of convenience the state authorities often decided to deal directly and solely with the Sheikh. The land for the tribe was handed over to him, and he often considered it, or most of it, as his sole property. He became a kind of feudal lord, wielding considerable influence over his tribe. He exacted implicit obedience from all its members, though he usually mingled such despotism with some acts of generosity and hospitality. The solidarity of the tribe rather increased than diminished under sedentary conditions; and loyalty to the State occupied only second place to tribal loyalty. It sometimes happened that an ambitious Sheikh, turned politician, was able to exercise such political powers that he was able to bring about a change of government. Such a state of affairs represents a kind of 'feudal phase' which is already on the wane and cannot survive the inevitable growth of national consciousness.

u

Murray, op. cit., p. 35.

P. Stirling

STRUCTURAL CHANGES IN MIDDLE EAST SOCIETY*

"Structural Changes in Middle East Society" by Paul Stirling discusses the change and particularly the westernization in the area from the Ottoman Empire to the present. New nations and new institutions have grown and extensive urbanization has occurred with the accompanying shifts in attitudes and ways of life.

The society of the Ottoman Empire was highly complex and heterogeneous. Recently almost everything in its former territory that can possibly be included in the pantechnicon 'culture' has been changing. In the face of so much material, most of it unanalyzed from a sociological point of view, what I can say in one essay is necessarily superficial - an exercise in trying to follow through the consequences of a theoretical approach, rather than an examination of the vast piles of unsorted data. The key to this approach is the notion of 'social structure', that is, that all the activities that go on in a given society can be analyzed as the contents of a whole series of more or less defined social relationships which together form the 'social system'. What is important to my purpose in this essay is not argument about this approach, but the questions it prompts us to ask. What were the main groups and social positions in the late Ottoman Empire? How were they arranged vis-ä-vis each other in terms of power, prestige, and mutual * In: Philip W. Thayer (ed.), Tensions in the Middle East (Baltimore, The John Hopkins Press, 1959), pp. 140-156. Paul Stirling, Lecturer, The London School of Economics, University of London.

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dependence? How have these arrangements altered with the breakup of the empire into smaller political units, the winning of independence, and the accelerating arrival of Western technology and social institutions? Since one cannot speak of change without assuming something that is changing or has changed, I am going to assume, wrongly, a traditional social structure of the Ottoman Empire. This society contained three main types of people - nomadic tribesmen, villagers, and townsmen. The pastoral tribes in their deserts or mountains were largely or completely independent of the central government. The size of the autonomous unit varied greatly and often rapidly. Occasionally, it grew large enough to attack and conquer towns and establish new ruling dynasties. The tribes constantly raided each other, and, insofar as the central government was unable to prevent them, they also raided the settled towns and villages. The villagers, the most numerous category by far, were the worst off. Those in fertile or accessible country were usually indebted sharecroppers on the estates of absentee landlords; those in more remote areas had no defense against tribal raids but to accept and pay in kind for the protection of other tribesmen. The exceptions, who managed to own their own land, were mainly situated in mountainous areas, or else were settled tribes who retained enough of their tribal organization both to defend themselves against outsiders and to prevent their own leaders from turning into landowning townsmen. So long as they paid their rents and taxes, and refrained from really serious breaches of the peace, they were largely left alone. Towns are more complex and heterogeneous than tribes and villages. Those of the Ottoman Empire varied from small almost agricultural towns to vast cities like Istanbul and Cairo. They contained landowners, merchants of all types from shopkeepers to owners of important international export houses, a great number of craftsmen, porters, laborers, servants, and so on. Most towns also contained a farming quarter, in which life was much like that of the villages. There were also the administrative and garrison centers, the seats of the centrally appointed governor or the local dynasts, and their armed forces. The imperial rulers were also city dwellers, but they were a distinct subdivision - the sultan and his ministers and officers. They were drawn mainly from the great hereditary families of Istanbul, supplemented by recruits from a wide range of classes. The rulers' power rested largely on control of the professional army, and this control in turn rested on the power to pay and feed them, that is, on the ability to collect the taxes, which in turn rested on the control of the army. Besides these main social divisions, the empire was also divided into thousands of much smaller communities. These groups were organized

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on three criteria - religion, language, and locality - and formed a multiple structure of semiautonomous groups of many kinds and sizes. Sunni Moslems were dominant, but they were not, in spite of theological theory, a single community, for they were divided along language, territorial, tribal, and social-class lines into many communities that differed considerably in their application of customary law and of Sunni dogma and ritual. Shii Moslems were divided into a number of sects recognizing different imams, and in practice if not in theory, each sect used its own customary law. The Christians and Jews constituted a number of formally distinct millets, each having its own heads, at once civil and religious, and administering its own personal law. The internal organization of the religious communities was by no means simple. Distinctions into language groups and local groups, and into the three categories of tribe, village, and town, often operated to produce internal cleavages and crosscutting loyalties. Since an individual often belonged to a number of groups based on different criteria and, furthermore, had social relationships that went outside these groups, he could choose the membership or relationship that he felt most advantageous as his guide to action in a given situation. But if loyalties were complex and conflicting, they were never loyalties to the empire as such. The notion of an Ottoman nation could never have come anywhere near realization. Armenians, Greeks, Catholics, and even Arab and Kurdish communities were mainly interested in preserving as much autonomy as possible. Only members of Sunni communities could in some contexts class themselves in the same group as the rulers and acknowledge direct loyalty to them. This society was not run by a Western type of bureaucracy. Except for some supervisory officers in the cities, like the inspectors of weights and measures, the official hierarchies were mainly concerned with collecting taxes, preserving order, keeping the military organization in being, and running the religious institutions of the Sunnis. Barth remarks that for southern Kurdistan in 1950 it was a necessary qualification for office that a man already hold de facto enough power and prestige outside his office to be able to exercise his official functions, 1 and we may tentatively assume these to be the normal conditions of the Ottoman Empire. The hierarchy did not consist of channels down which detailed orders could be passed from the center with confidence that the effects at the bottom would resemble the intention of the legislators. Rather the power of government stood outside and between the communities. The official hierarchy was a hierarchy of responsibility for good order and the payment of taxes. Each official was dependent on his superior, whom he 1

Fredrik Barth, Principles of Social Organization in Southern Kurdistan (Oslo, 1953).

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supported against his rivals and whom he used as far as possible to defeat opposition among those below him. So long as funds were forthcoming and no serious trouble occurred, he had a free hand. Each community was left to manage its own affairs - religion, social services, schools, judiciary, internal taxation. They were thus able to see themselves as the center of the social universe, apart from a more or less remote overlord. The pomp and permanence of the imperial government and its service in preserving order gave it legitimacy. But loyalty was not to the sultan, but the local community. This structure was stable, but not rigid. The continual clash of interests constantly brought about slow permanent changes in the structure. Such permanent changes as were taking place internally were never shattering. Indeed, it is hard to see how they could have been, without either drastic changes in technology, or conquest from outside. Both arrived together. By far the most important thing about the Western nations is their vast power. The people who ruled the Ottoman Empire had been accustomed to assume without question their superiority over the northern infidels. The remarkable technological and administrative advances in Europe in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries upset this assumption and gave Europe political and economic power, backed by an increasing military advantage. Eventually, the Western nations acquired the prestige of belonging to the one and only civilized and advanced society, the criterion by which all other societies should be judged. Hence the series of imitations of Western techniques and institutions and the adoption of at least some Western assumptions and standards. Part of this process happened spontaneously. In self-defense, for example, military techniques had to be learned and military equipment purchased. At the same time, the European powers imposed on the Ottoman administration the enacting of a number of 'reforms'. These measures entailed a new conception of government. The Ottoman Empire was assumed to be a modern nation-state, and its hierarchy of officials to be a civil service. Measured by these standards both the government and its organs were not unnaturally found wanting by the Ottomans as well as by their European advisers. A series of legislative acts between the late 1820's and 1878 - legally and on paper - removed the disabilities of all subject peoples and the feudal rights of fief-holders and of absentee landlords, enforced primary education, introduced proper legal process for all accusations and penalties, and even set up a constitution and a parliament.2 The officials charged with administering the new laws had been used to a system in which office was a profitable s

Abdul-Hamid suspended the constitution in 1878 and resisted further liberal innovations until his overthrow in 1908.

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perquisite of their social rank. Naturally, they exercised their talents in the new situation, not because they were immoral, but because they had been formally assigned a role they had never heard of and which they could not in their situation possibly play. Moreover, the new concept of efficient government required the interference of the central government in the innumerable semi-autonomous communities. The prize example of the confusion caused by assuming the hierarchy to be a civil service was the attempt at land registration. Land in the Ottoman Empire was not registered, and in the middle of the nineteenth century the government decided it should be. The power relations in the Ottoman Empire were largely decided by rights over land, since land was by far the most important economic resource. By rights, I mean de facto rights as practiced and accepted by the people concerned. These de facto rights were always complex, and very often more than one |party had a recognized interest in a piece of land. The reformers, however, thought in terms of simple 'ownership', and wanted to see the peasant cultivators registered as the outright owners of their own land. They expressly forbade the registration of any kind of joint rights or special rights over a landowner by others. This prevented any legal protection of the rights of tenants, or of the rights of tribesmen to communally owned land, against their sheikhs. In practice, in almost all areas, land passed into the hands of members of the literate class - existing owners, tax collectors, officials, political heads of tribes or sections of tribes. In many cases, of course, the new rights remained a dead letter for a long time because no one had the necessary force to upset the existing arrangements, but where and when the new rights were enforced, the results were very often misappropriation, absentee landlordism, confusion, and protracted litigation. Technical change is obvious. Aircraft, radio, and such are dramatic marvels. But perhaps even more socially relevant are improved methods of administration. More efficient recordkeeping., communicating, and checking up amount to more efficient ways of pushing other people around. Technical and administrative advance go hand in hand. New technical organizations like factories call for new degrees of precision and reliability in the co-operation of large numbers of people. The new devices and new administrative methods give new power to interfere in the daily life of both urban and rural communities. The positions in the new hierarchy require specialized knowledge and training. Power no longer rests simply on the command of hereditary resources. Important social positions demand indispensable technical knowledge and experience, and those who possess it are able to exercise power through this very fact. This involves the rise of the professional and business class, particularly represented in the Middle East by the

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army officers, who, while the professions are still small in numbers, are the only professional group that has the means, through its monopoly of armed force, of pressing the government really hard. In discussing Westernization, people frequently assume that the main factor in change is intellectual conviction. Parliamentary government, a secular independent judiciary, and so forth are intrinsically such excellent ideas that once people know about them they adopt them. We shall be nearer the mark if we look at the social context and ask what in the situation is conducive to the use of these institutions and ideas - if we look for manipulation, not simply conviction. In 1918, the end of the Ottoman Empire left a politically open situation, with Western powers and various indigenous groups and peoples competing for power and territory. It is not surprising that with western Europe in the ascendant, ideas that had both the prestige of belonging to the victorious allies and the more concrete advantage of being likely to enlist their support should have swept the board. With the establishment of the League of Nations, it was assumed that the nation was the only possible politically autonomous unit, and nationalism was the most obvious political ploy. Egypt, which really lay outside the empire already, had a clearly defined 'protected' status and accepted frontiers. Even here the best weapons against the Westerners were the Westerners' own weapons, and Egypt soon achieved nominal independence. Turkey was also by an astonishing feat of arms able to secure national unity and independence. The remaining states were eventually divided into British and French spheres of influence from which, after another world war, emerged six independent Arab states and Israel. With the mandates and treaties, the direct pressure from the West toward the establishment of Western social institutions intensified. At the same time, the indigenous drive to establish national power and prestige by taking from the West was also gaining ground. Hence technical and administrative change accelerated rapidly. All the new institutions were based on an entirely new conception of the political entity - the national state - with the government claiming to represent the social unit to which the ultimate loyalty of all its citizens should be given and ready to interfere in the lives of all sections of the population, not merely to maintain order and the status quo, but to produce a permanent state of change along a path of eternal improvement - that is, to pursue 'progress' and 'civilization'. The old divisions into religious, language, and local communities, and into townsmen, villagers, and tribes, which still existed - which, indeed, had in some cases been strengthened by the period of conflict and insecurity - had theoretically no place in the new scheme of things, with which they were plainly inconsistent.

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But the new central governments had the benefit of the new techniques and methods of administration. They controlled professional armed forces, which made rebellions unsuccessful, and they were learning how to exert control over the daily lives of their citizens on a scale these semiautonomous peoples had never experienced. The new means of communication - motor car, telephone, and radio - worked in the same direction, bringing parts of the society into contact, forcing them to see themselves as bits of the nation rather than as the center of their own universe. Communities that had been almost self-contained social systems of their own became parts of a single social system with the government and its Westernized servants firmly at the top. The people who have lost most by the change are the tribes. One-time independent Bedouin communities have been 'pacified', and in many cases settled as fellaheen. The new technology has deprived many of them of their main sources of income - camel-breeding and caravan escort - and the modern weapons in the hands of regular armies make their resistance to governments much less effective. The new frontiers cut across the tribes' normal routes of migration and upset their traditional pasturing practices. Their raids became either a disturbance of the national peace, or worse still, aggression against another state. They are no longer the cream of Middle East society, but by the new urban standards barbarians, who must first become peasants like their former subjects before they can begin to achieve 'civilization'. The working out of the confusion from the Ottoman land reform has meant that in many cases land held by complex tribal customary rights has been registered as the personal property of the sheikh, who is thus converted from a political head into an absentee landlord. Very large areas of Iraq seem to have been settled on these terms since 1920.® In Syria, the Jezira area, which was formerly uninhabitable because of tribal activities, is now being cultivated by 'merchant tractorists' who pay rent to the sheikhs.4 In Turkey, also, the nomads living in the Taurus Mountains and in the east have been under pressure to settle. The only practically important tribally organized people inside Turkey were the Kurds. The Turkish army has been in action against them several times, from 1925 to the middle 1930's. Normal administration is now in force in all Kurdish areas, and assimilation by the teaching of Turkish seems to be proceeding slowly. Villagers have also been subject to the civilizing and nationalizing pressure. The degree of political and economic integration of the villages into the national life of Turkey is striking. The great national effort of 3

Doreen Warriner, Land Reform and Development in the Middle East (Royal Institute of International Affairs [O.U.P.], 1957). 1 Ibid.

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the war of independence, and the symbol it gave the nation in the person of Atatürk, made the population, which was already fairly homogeneous, nationally loyal from the beginning of the republic, in spite of the government's attacks on religious symbols and institutions. The villagers certainly had a great deal to bear: they were told by legislation how to lay out their villages; they were made to wear hats like infidels; they were subjected to a European code in place of their own sacred law; their religious orders were made illegal; and the training of their imams was prohibited. Finally, they were forbidden to write in the sacred Arabic script, and their children were taught the script of the Franks. What averted the direct impact of this series of attacks on their way of life was the absence of an administration capable of enforcing the reforms in detail. Probably this relative inefficiency saved the regime from reactionary rebellion. As the administration has increased in scope and efficiency, so the reforms slowly have reached the villages piecemeal. Only the hat law was rigidly enforced at the time of its enactment. But now the administration is reaching the villages. The headman receives a stream of official orders - the village houses are to be renumbered, a statement of village accounts is required, an electoral role must be submitted, all dogs not actually required to protect sheep must be put to death, and so on. The office of headman has become unpopular. His official duties, even though frequently evaded, are liable to cause trouble with the authorities, or with the villagers, his neighbors, or with both. They often require him to extract money or information from his fellow villagers. All headmen I have come across are accused of embezzling funds, and all of course have strenuously denied it. Almost all were young men between twenty-five and forty years of age, usually with influential senior kin alive. All with scarcely an exception said they wanted to resign as soon as possible and would never undertake the office again, and in many cases a two- or four-year term of official office 5 was in fact broken by retirement. One result of this is that neither the headman nor anyone else could really exercise any leadership or exert pressure to settle village quarrels. This in turn leads to more recourse to urban institutions and personnel, thus intensifying the process of the decline of rural autonomy. At the same time, the usefulness of the government has become more obvious locally. Government credit has increased greatly, and one of the main annual administrative contracts for all villages and most villagers is the paying of the old Agricultural Bank loan and the drawing of a new one after the harvest each year. Roads and road overseers have appeared in villages, water conduits and fountains have been built, officials arrive to assess the harvest in bad years for a debt moratorium, medical officers 5

The office was reduced from four to two years in 1951.

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of health make occasional visits, and village health officers and midwives have settled in some villages. The villager himself goes off to town much more often than he did, hours away in a bus or lorry, instead of days away on foot or donkey. The volume of migrant labor, though it is not, as far as I know, measured by official statistics, has risen very greatly. All these contacts with a self-consciously progressive middle class, which ostentatiously uses a different etiquette (they do not, for example, normally remove shoes when entering a village man's guest room) has made the villager very ready to pour scorn on his own way of life and accomplishments. He sees himself at the bottom of the national scale of social rank. This process of urban interference to improve village life has gone much less far in Syria and Iraq. With minor exceptions, Syrian governments have been too preoccupied with staying in office to do very much about organizing social services to attack the villages. The peasants on the whole have not been subjected to a stream of officials. On the other hand, as Gullick6 makes very clear for Lebanon, private enterprise has taken a hand. Buses and trucks, radios, and even some technical agricultural and irrigation change have arrived, though we have as far as I know no recent detailed information on the effect of these on the structure of village society. In Iraq, the situation is similar, except that distribution of landholding is even more recent and is even more heavily in favor of the large landowning class. In spite of vast expenditures on dams, and also on roads, bridges, water works, hospitals, and so on, practically nothing has so far been spent on social services for villagers. This is hardly surprising since the government is necessarily dominated by large landlords who do not want middle-class officials wandering about in their villages suggesting reforms. Not only is the first reform suggested likely to be a reduction in the landlord's share of the crop, but middle-class officials are used by the villagers as allies against the landlord's political influence. This is what one would expect a priori, and is clearly brought out in Dr. Salim's study of marsh Arabs.7 On the other hand, the vast public works that the oil millions have financed have meant plenty of work for sharecroppers who have given up the rural struggle and decamped with their families to town. Whereas at least until very recently the proportion of urban to rural population in Turkey was roughly constant, in Iraq, by all reports, people are moving into the towns. The sheikhs of Amara complain that they are losing workers at a rate that will endanger agricultural • John Gullick, Social Structure and Culture Change in a Lebanese Village (= Viking Fund Publication in Anthropology, No. 21) (New York, 1955). 7 S. S. Salim, "Economic and Political Organization of Echchbaysh, a Marsh Village Community in South Iraq". Unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of London (1955).

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production. 8 Village awareness of belonging to the bottom rung of a centrally controlled state cannot fail to grow when many kin and exneighbors are living in the cities, being paid wages out of national oil revenues. The Egyptian situation is still different. A central government has existed for a long time - on and off for a century and a half. The villagers have never had the same autonomy. In recent years both landlord and government have worked to introduce higher output through technical improvement and even social improvements through health clinics and such. The newly liberated estates of the great landlords, now formally owned by the cultivators, have been organized on a basis of officially controlled co-operatives, in which the economic and administrative functions of the landlords have been taken over by professional organizers.9 The crowning example of government interference with villagers is the program for the settlement of the new villages in the newly reclaimed Tahrir Province. Peasants picked by psychological tests are to live in uniform clothes on a strict and throughly uplifting routine.10 It would be interesting to know what is actually happening, sociologically speaking, in these new villages. It is not only the pressure on villages and their integration into the national social system that is growing rapidly. The urban classes are becoming more dependent on the villagers, both politically and economically. National power and prestige depend very largely on the productivity, in an agricultural country, of the peasants. The politicians may not always see this too clearly, but they all know that 'backwardness' is weakness and at least for this reason seek reform in the villagers. The peasants are also becoming a more important political factor. Any attempt at a secret ballot election in which the votes are really counted and published is bound in countries with large peasant populations to make the village vote important. In Turkey, the Democratic party won the 1950 election by appealing to and organizing in the villages, and they increased their vote in 1954 by the same technique. Officials are very much more polite to villagers than they used to be; village taxes have been reduced; the official price of grain, which is bought by a government organization, has been raised; and many villages have acquired water works and new roads. In Syria, the Baath party claims and works for the support of village sharecroppers, and in Egypt both the Wafd and Nasser have sought village support. This conscious dependence, however limited, of the townsman on the villager is something entirely new in the Middle 8 8 10

Economist, June 22, 1957, p. 14. Warriner, op. cit. Ibid.

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East. It is precarious, because elections are not politically essential. Yet - and this in itself is interesting - the politicians continue to talk about and to hold elections. Not only has the traditional relationship between town, village, and tribe altered radically. The new nations have also had to deal with the minorities. Here again the most striking changes have been in Turkey. Mustafa Kemal saw the problem very clearly. The bitterness left by the Armenian revolts and massacres and the war of independence against the Greek was too violent for these minorities ever to accept loyally citizenship in a Turkish republic. By the time the Treaty of Lausanne came to be negotiated, massacres had effectively removed or driven into safer lands most of the Armenian population of Anatolia. The members of the Greek Orthodox millet were a more serious problem, but this was solved by their bodily exchange with Greece, by the Treaty of Lausanne (1923), for Moslems living in what was to be Greek territory. The various Shii sects in Turkey were officially ignored. Their leadership and organization were indirectly attacked when Mustafa Kemal abolished all the meeting places and organization of the dervish orders, since it is clear that these orders, though ostensibly Sunni, had close relations, at least rurally, with Shiis.11 Shiis are classed as Moslems for census purposes, so that no accurate figures for their numbers can be given. They do not seem to be numerous among the educated class in Turkey and do not seem to present any political difficulty. The policy toward Sunni minorities is similar. In the Circassian villages, for example, Turkish is spoken in the schools and by the schoolmasters, and this seems to be accepted as right and proper. Only the Kurds, who include both Sunni and Shii tribes, are numerous enough to form a politically important non-Turkish group. They, too, are taught Turkish, and the policy of Turkification seems to be working so far. It has been said to me that it is the educated Kurds, so far few in number, who object to this policy. But the Kurds are not a united people, and many at least accept cheerfully the status of Turkish citizen. The official end of the millet problem came in 1926. The Treaty of Lausanne guaranteed the legal equality of the minorities, and this meant that so long as the Sharia or a code based on it was still applied to Moslems, the millets had to have their own personal laws. Partly in order to end this permanent institutional symbol of the non-Turkishness of part of his population, Mustafa Kemal hastened the introduced of a European code of law.12 With this the last remnant of any formal recognition of minorities in Turkey disappeared. This did not end the social reality of 11

"

K. Birge, The Bektashi Order of Dervishes (London, 1937). See on this subject International Social Science Bulletin, Vol. IX, No. 1 (1957).

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ethnic and religious distinctions, but with a vast homogeneous majority, Turkey was able to claim justifiably to be a modern nation-state. The Arab states were in a different situation. Their minorities were more numerous, and they were less bitterly hostile to each other. They even had all been united in getting rid of the Turks. Moreover, except for the Arabian peninsula, the major areas were in the hands of mandatory powers. Britain and France could not pursue a revolutionary policy, nor ignore sectarian differences and linguistic minorities, as the Turkish Republican government was able to do. Nor did they start with a single de facto large ethnic majority. Hence, in these countries a different system of personal law continues to apply to the people of the minorities. In the political institutions, the existence of these communal loyalties has been clearly recognized, and such institutional differences symbolize and perpetuate the distinctions. Lebanon has a most curious arrangement by which alternate holders of office in ranked order from the president downwards must come from the Christian or Moslem sections of the population, and these in turn divide their allocated offices between themselves according to relative power and importance. In Syria, the arrangements are little less formal. Special arrangements for local government still exist for the areas of the Druses and the Alouites, where the French began the experiment of regional administrations for different cultural groups. The Iraqi Christians have a fixed small number of deputies in the Parliament. One of the more important ministers is a Kurd. In the Kurdish areas Kurdish is spoken in the schools and by the administration. Most of the Kurds are not bilingual, so this regime is more or less inevitable. How far are the loyalties in these countries seriously confused? We do not have any definitive evidence. Many early leading Arab nationalists were Christians, and Christian Arabs certainly consider themselves primarily as Arabs. How far the vast Moslem majority of Arab speakers really regards the Christians as part of the Arab nations, I do not know. Many Arabs are still enthusiastically for Arab nationalism as opposed to Syrian, Iraqi, or Jordanian nationalism. Kurds, Armenians, and so on, on the other hand, are more likely, if they are not committed to a struggle for their own independence, to look to the existing national structures - to become Iraqis or Syrians. The same factors of integration through technological and administrative change that have increased social relations among village, town, and tribe have also operated to reduce the barriers among the communities. Better communications, more officials, more cash crops, more migrant labor, more village social services, enforced national service with the army - all these are bound to build a network of social relations across the communal boundaries, but largely within national boundaries that are more intricate and more numerous than has ever been the case in

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the past. When the government is so busy governing, no community can retain real autonomy. To bear with the diminution of its autonomy, a group needs to be able to some extent to identify itself with the larger group that the government symbolizes, that is, with the nation. Otherwise, the interference, however well intentioned, is almost certain to be interpreted in a hostile light as an attack on the minority and to lead to increased emphasis on loyalty to the minority as opposed to the nation. I have been arguing that the structure of Middle Eastern society suffered a complete change between the middle of the nineteenth century and the middle of the twentieth century. The old structure was based upon the preservation of a balance between and the ascendancy over innumerable communities from outside these communities. It aimed at stability, at preventing disorder and rebellion. As such it was highly successful. Its final collapse did not come through the failure of the structure, but through the external accident of European technologically based power. The Ottoman Empire changed quite noticeably, as all societies do. But the changes were not part of the ideology and were in spite of, rather than encouraged by, the political structure. Society was assumed to be the same forever. Now the same area is divided between territorially distinct and theoretically, but not practically, homogeneous nations, whose governments can preserve order and stability with comparative ease because their police have machine guns and aircraft. This is no longer their preoccupation. Instead they are concerned, on the one hand, with the exclusion of their political rivals from the national government and, on the other hand, with rapid reform and development, in order to preserve, if not to improve, their relative position vis-ä-vis other national governments, all equally busy with the same race for technical advance. Society is assumed by the new Westernized rulers to be improving all the time, and government is for all and has the right and duty to interfere with all.

D. Yaukey

FERTILITY DIFFERENCES IN A MODERNIZING COUNTRY*

Yaukey has investigated fertility differences in Lebanon with special reference to Christian-Moslem differences and with each religion analyzed by class. THE EUROPEAN DEMOGRAPHIC TRANSITION

The basic intent of demographic transition theory is (1) to abstract a general pattern of mortality and fertility change in Europe during its modernization and industrial revolution and (2) to use this general pattern as a basis for explaining or predicting mortality and fertility changes in countries now starting their periods of modernization. It may serve as a frame of reference for understanding the observed fertility differences in our sample of Lebanese women. In its simplest terms, the European transition is seen as one from (1) a state of near balance between high stable fertility and high variable mortality to (2) a state of near balance between low variable fertility and low stable mortality. In the process of transition, mortality is seen to have declined before fertility, causing a period of wide difference between the two, a period of 'explosive' growth. Our interest is in what the pattern suggests for DIFFERENTIAL fertility within nations during the period of fertility transition. Decline in fertility * David Yaukey, Fertility Differences in a Modernizing Country (Reprinted by permission of Princeton University Press, 1961), pp. 76-83. Copyright by Princeton University Press. All rights reserved. Dr. Yaukey was Assistant Professor at the Sociology Department of the American University of Beirut and is now with the Population Council.

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did not occur simultaneously in all segments of European society. Ryder summarizes the general differences as follows (with apologies for oversimplification): As the occupational structure has gradually been transformed from an agricultural to an industrial focus, those participating most closely in this transformation have modified their fertility downward. By socioeconomic class, the higher the status of the persons concerned, the earlier their fertility decline; the new childbearing pattern has gradually filtered down through the social ranks.1 At any given time, one is likely to have found, in a transitional European society, lower fertility for high socioeconomic status vs. low status urban couples, lower fertility for urban couples vs. rural couples on the same socioeconomic level. The decline in fertility resulted primarily from the curtailing of large families. In almost all western European countries the curtailment has resulted mainly from voluntary fertility control by married couples. Indeed, the fertility transition is usually seen not only as one from high fertility to low fertility, but also as one from uncontrolled fertility to controlled fertility.

RESIDENTIAL A N D SOCIOECONOMIC DIFFERENCES IN FERTILITY

If Lebanon were in a similar demographic transition, one would expect our sample to show the same residential and socio-economic fertility differences as those experienced by European countries. One does find the expected pattern, within major religious classes: The total fertility rate of the educated city dwellers was lowest, the fertility of the isolated villagers highest, with the fertility of the uneducated city dwellers somewhere between. But it is possible that these fertility differences could have been caused by something other than the differential degree of advance toward low fertility of former high fertility classes. This picture of transition in time involves two basic assumptions: (1) the various social background types are differentially involved in transition from one family model to another. (2) The direction of change is from a large family model to a small family model, rather than in the other direction. We will be in better position to support these assumptions if we can demonstrate (1) that the small family 1

Ryder, op. cit., p. 412. Ryder finishes his paragraph with the following sentence: "The new style of fertility has met pockets of resistance in subcultures with boundarymaintaining mechanism which are, for the time being at least, relatively effective." The importance of this qualification will become apparent in our discussion of religious effects on fertility differences in Lebanon below.

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model is not an indigenous one, but rather a modern western one and (2) that the pattern of spread of this model through the classes approximates the pattern one would expect for the spread of any new idea. The area experts generally support the first point. They agree that the traditional family in Lebanon has been the extended family with many features favoring high and unlimited fertility. They identify the competing system as the western nuclear family model, introduced through contact with Europe and the United States. Our data also lend support to this point. The challenging western model in its present general form involves post-adolescent marriage of women, the acceptance of a limited family ideal by couples, and the voluntary achievement of limited families through action by couples. The least fertile of our Lebanese social background types tended to marry their women latest, were most willing to advise specific (and limited) family size, were most likely to have used either induced abortion or conception control, and were most likely to have initiated conception control at early parities. The similarity between the modern western model and the behavior of the least fertile types of Lebanese is strong. With respect to the second point, the expected pattern of spread of most new ideas from outside in most countries would be from the educated city classes to the isolated villagers. This, generally, is the pattern of spread implied by the existing fertility differentials in our sample. Within either religion, then, the three types represented in our sample can be viewed as in different stages of transition from the traditional Lebanese extended family and uncontrolled high fertility to the westernmodern nuclear family and controlled low fertility.

RELIGIOUS DIFFERENCES IN FERTILITY

Within either major religious class, uneducated villagers had the highest fertility and educated city dwellers the lowest. However, the levels of fertility associated with given combinations of residential and socioeconomic background were affected by religious affiliation. Apparently religious identification has qualified how rapidly any residential-socioeconomic type has been making the transition from high fertility to low fertility. Extremely isolated villagers, whether Christian or Moslem, seem beyond the influence of the new family model. But in the cities the two social background types of Christians seem further along in their transitions than do the corresponding two types of Moslems: Among city residents, the total fertility rates for uneducated and educated Christian types were

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4.14 and 3.44, respectively; for the corresponding types of Moslems they were 7.35 and 5.56. A by-product of the religious influence on fertility among city dwellers has been a difference between the patterns of socio-economic and residential fertility differences for the two major religions. Particularly noteworthy is the near absence of fertility differences at two points where they would be expected: (1) between uneducated village Moslems and uneducated city Moslems, and (2) between uneducated city Christians and educated city Christians. The lack of rural-urban differences among uneducated Moslems seems best explained by the very early transitional state of uneducated city Moslems. Certainly the uneducated city Moslems seem earlier in their transition than do their Christian counterparts. Their total fertility rate was higher, 7.35 compared with 4.14. Their women married at earlier average ages, 17.9 compared with 21.2. They were less likely to have induced abortion. Although they were not less likely to have used conception control, they initiated control more than one pregnancy later on the average. To the degree that they lagged behind their Christian counterparts in transition to lower controlled fertility one would expect them to more closely approximate the fertility of (presumably pretransitional) villagers. The explanation for the very small fertility difference between uneducated and educated city Christians is more complex. One could argue that further fertility declines of a given absolute size would be more difficult among classes already low in fertility than in classes still high in fertility. A reduction in total fertility rate of one live birth would represent only a 12 per cent decrease for the uneducated village Christians (with a present total fertility rate of 8.16) but would represent a 29 per cent decrease for the educated city Christians (with a present total rate of 3.44). As women lower their fertility, they tend to increase the proportion of married lives spent non-pregnant and in risk of further conception. The average desired family size of any class probably is not zero, but some value above that. As fertility reaches the desired level for increasing proportions of couples in a class, increasing proportions of couples will not contribute additional contraceptive efforts to bring their fertility to a yet lower point. In short, as class fertility gets low, the resistances to further decline increase. If this be true, then the recent fertility decline of the least fertile social background type (the educated city Christians) may have been slower than the recent fertility decline of the next to least fertile type (the uneducated city Christians). The difference between their total fertilities would tend to decrease as the absolute level of fertility of the least fertile class got lower and lower. This would imply that the present fertility

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difference between uneducated and educated city Christians has been larger, but has been decreasing lately.2 Our analysis leaves unanswered the question why city Christians might make the transition to the limited family model more readily than city Moslems, even within the same educational classes. Lebanon is a plural society in which religious sects have had rather separate histories and different outside affiliations in the past and present. The Christian sects have had closer identification with Europe and the United States in the past and present than have the Moslems; thus the avenues for the transmission of the western family model have been better for the Christians than for the Moslems. The general rationality of the western-oriented Christians, as contrasted with Moslem fatalism, would predispose the former more to planning of any type, including family planning. The frame of reference used in this explanation pictures a religion as a social group or sect having a particular position in a society, particular relations with other internal and external groups, and a peculiar social history. An alternate frame of reference views the religion as a set of ethical principles, preserved and specified in the sacred literature, and interpreted through the hierarchy of religious officials. The second frame of reference has been of little help in explaining religious fertility differentials in Lebanon. Unable to conclude that the specific doctrines of any major religious sect were particularly permissive of fertility control, we had no basis for explaining differential fertility control by members of the various sects. The one case in which there was a specific doctrine - the Catholic one forbidding use of appliance methods - it bore no apparent relation to the actual behavior of the sect. Moslem permission of polygyny and easy divorce did not prove to relate to the major religious fertility differentials discovered.

F U T U R E FERTILITY DIFFERENCES

One can speculate what this interpretation implies for the near future of fertility differentials in Lebanon. Among the Christians, one would expect (1) a further decrease in the already small socio-economic fertility * This explanation would imply that at an earlier period larger socioeconomic differences in fertility did exist among city Christians. Our analysis of the older generation in our sample is inconclusive on this point. However, it is interesting to note that Rizk did find larger socioeconomic differences among Christians in Egyptian cities than we did in Lebanese cities. Egypt is generally considered less advanced in modernization than Lebanon. (The existence of this socioeconomic differential among city Christians in Egypt but not in Lebanon was the only major discrepancy between the differentials reported for Egypt and for Lebanon.)

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differences in the city and, accordingly, (2) an increase in the difference between uneducated city dwellers and uneducated isolated villagers. Among the Moslems, one would expect (1) a continued decrease in the fertility of both educated and uneducated city dwellers and, accordingly, (2) an increase in the fertility differences between uneducated city dwellers and uneducated isolated villagers, then finally (3) a decrease in the socioeconomic fertility differences in the city. In the more distant future, one might expect the villages as well to start the transition to the limited family model. But what to expect ultimately of city fertility is not suggested by demographic transition theory. After all city classes have brought fertility under voluntary control, then fertility will reflect the choices of the partners at the time, just as it does at present in urban United States.

Μ. Α.

El-Badry

SOME ASPECTS OF FERTILITY IN EGYPT*

The problem of population is a major area in which Arab countries differ, ranging from Egypt's acute problem of overpopulation to the migration problems of urbanization common to all. Much research remains to be done in the field. Relying on the 1947 Census in Egypt, El-Badry has analyzed fertility differences using several variables of difference.

INTRODUCTION

The growing concern in Egypt about the rapid increase of its population makes desirable more accurate knowledge of the reproductive experience among the various sections of the population. The available data do not allow a definitive study of attitudes, nor do they permit the investigation of the extent to which methods of birth limitation are known and deliberately practiced within any of the social classes. It is possible, however, to utilize the available data to discuss several important questions such as whether there exist any fertility differentials between urban and rural populations, which sections of the population are less reproductive than others, and what the reproduction of a married woman would be at the termination of her reproductive period in marriage. These are the points which will be considered in this paper.

* Milbank Memorial Fund Quarterly (January 1956), Vol. 34, No. 1, p. 22. Mr. El-Badry was Lecturer at the Office of Population Research of the Princeton University.

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AVAILABLE DATA

A study which aims at discovering satisfactory evidence as to whether there exist any fertility differentials between social classes must be based on comparison between homogeneous groups in these classes. The investigator should therefore have access to data on the age, duration of current or last marriage, and number of children born to every woman currently married, widowed, or divorced. It is also helpful to know the history of marital life of women who have been married more than once. This latter information is more difficult to obtain and studies are often restricted to the current marriage. The census of 1947 was the first to include data on reproduction by age of mother and duration of marriage. The published results of this census include three tables which distribute the married women in the whole country at the time of the census according to: (1) number of children ever born during the current marriage, by duration of this marriage; (2) number of children ever born during the current marriage, by age of the woman at the census; and (3) duration of current marriage and age at the census. Each of these tables includes two of the three variates: number of children, duration of marriage, and age. A table which includes the three variates would have been much more useful. It would have divided the population of married females into much more homogeneous groups and also given a clearer picture of the reproductive history of the female. Such data are unfortunately not available, although the relevant inforation is necessarily on the punch cards. The usefulness of the above tables is greatly reduced by the fact that they relate only to the whole country. Their value to a study of differential fertility would have been greatly enhanced had the tabulations been made according to broad employment brackets or geographic regions. All we can get from the census about fertility by regions are three univariate tables for each region; one giving the number of children ever born during the current marriage for each married woman, another giving the age distribution of married women, and a third giving a distribution of the same women according to duration of their current marriage. Cross-classifications of these variables are not available in the published census results. In addition to the above census materials we have several useful vital statistics tables. We will employ here a 1947 vital statistics table which distributes the fathers of babies born in Health Bureau areas in 1947 according to order of the birth and occupation of the father. Several other statistics about marriage and divorce in 1947 published in the same volume will also be utilized.

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Three partial adjustments in the census tables have been made for present purposes. The first relates to the reported frequency of childless married women of marriage duration 0-4 and 5-9 years. The reason for this adjustment can be seen from the percentages of women classified under 'number of children not given' in each marriage duration in Table 1. The reader will notice outstanding proportions of women for whom the TABLE 1

Percentages of women classified in the 1947 Census of Egypt as 'number of children not given', by duration of marriage. Duration of marriage in years

0-4 5-9 10-14 15-19 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45 and over Not given

Percentage of women with 'number of children not given' 22.06 7.62 4.92 4.25 4.16 3.75 4.22 3.83 4.30 4.68 55.96

number of children was not given on the census sheet in the first two duration intervals. The excess in the first two percentages is in all probability attributable to the failure of the enumerators in many of these cases to insert a sign denoting no children in the corresponding space when the woman had no children from her current marriage.1 A substantial adjustment for this error would therefore be (a) to consider the excesses in durations 0-4 and 5-9 over the percentage in durations 10 and over, namely 4.35 as resulting solely from this error and consequently (b) to shift the two excesses into their corresponding cells (i.e., durations 0-4 and 5-9) in the zero children category. This adjustment is not quite complete, however, because among durations 10 and over there still is an 1 The same error was observed in several other countries. For example, it was found that in the 1940 census of the United States the proportion of non-reports on children ever born was 12.6 per cent. In that census no instructions were given as to the proper entry for childless women. In the 1950 census a check box was provided on the census schedule for replies of 'None'. The proportion of non-reports in that census was 9 per cent.

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unknown number of childless women classified as 'number of children not given' because of the same error. The correction that has been made increases the total number of childless women from 408,063 to 574,651. A similar adjustment was found necessary, for the same reason, in the census table giving the number of children by age of woman in 1947, in which we find the following proportions of women with 'number of children not given'. (Table 2). TABLE 2

Percentage of women classified in the 1947 Census of Egypt as 'number of children not given', by age of women.

Age

under 20 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45-49 50-54 55-59 60-64 65 and over Not given

Percentage of women with 'number of children not given' 34.59 21.89 13.64 11.13 8.98 10.37 8.91 12.15 8.54 12.37 13.90 33.35

Here again we notice outstandingly high percentages in the first two intervals. We also find that the percentages among 25 and over are relatively high in comparison with their correspondents in the case of marriage duration. The reason for the latter observation - as well as for the first is in all probability the same as before, namely failure to insert the sign denoting zero in the case of a childless woman. It is obvious that since the number of childless women is higher among ages 25 and over than among durations 10 and over (owing to remarriage and late marriage), the above error should happen more frequently among ages 25 and over than among durations 10 and over. Adjustment for this error must consequently be carried out in all age intervals rather than in the first two only as we did in the case of duration. The adjustment was made as follows: (1) Since the marginal distribution of married women according to their number of children should be the same in the age table as in the duration table, the adjusted number of childless women in the age table should be

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raised to 574,651. This rise is brought about by shifting, as in the case of duration, 166,588 women from the 'number of children not given' category into the zero children category. (2) The frequencies in each age cell in the 'number of children not given' category are reduced by certain amounts and their correspondents in the zero children category are raised by the same amounts in such a manner as to yield equal percentages of women with 'number of children not given' in each age interval and at the same time lead to a total shift of 166,588 women. A possible explanation of the fact that 10.1 per cent of the married women were in the 'duration not given' category as compared with only 0.3 per cent in the 'age not given' category is that the census questions were answered by neighbors who were able to estimate the women's ages but not their marriage durations. This view is strengthened by the observed excess, as compared with the trend, in the percentage of women with number of children not given in the age intervals including a multiple of 10 in the preceding table. The excess indicates that the neighbor has estimated the woman's age in terms of multiples of 10, which are most frequently used in age estimation, but refrained from giving the harder-toknow number of children ever born to her during the current marriage. This explanation cannot be confirmed, however, without knowledge of the field operations of the census. The third adjustment is in the table giving the number of children by marriage duration. It is required by the observed increase with the numTABLE 3

Percentage of women in the 1947 Census of Egypt with duration of marriage and age of women not given, by number of children. Number of children

Percentage of women with duration of marriage not given

Percentage of women with age not given

0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 and over Not given

1.8 2.4 3.6 4.6 5.6 6.5 7.2 7.5 8.4 9.2 10.7 59.1

0.37 0.26 0.21 0.17 0.16 0.16 0.14 0.16 0.15 0.17 0.18 0.75

All women

10.1

0.28

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ber of children of the proportion of women for whom the marriage duration is not given as shown in Table 3. The available data do not seem to throw any light on the reason for this systematic increase. It cannot, for example, be attributed to decreasing ability on the part of the woman to give her marriage duration as she advances in age because, as we can see from the table, no similar increase with the number of children existed in the case of women for whom the age was not reported. In fact the percentages in the latter case show a systematic decrease up to six children. Nevertheless, the women with duration not given cannot be discarded from the table giving number of children by marriage duration because we would then be excluding a more reproductive group. In this situation the most plausible adjustment is perhaps to distribute these women proportionately over the marriage duration cells. For example, in the group of women who had one child the adjustment would be to take the members for whom duration was not given and distribute them over the durations 0-4, 5-9, ... according to the reported proportions of females in these intervals. The two adjusted tables were utilized to calculate the duration specific and age specific cumulative reproduction rates. The rates are given in Tables 4 and 5 respectively. TABLE 4

Duration specific cumulative reproduction rates Marriage duration

Cumulative reproduction rates

0-4 5-9 10-14 15-19 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45 and over

.64 2.18 3.77 5.05 5.85 6.61 6.69 7.08 7.06 7.42

All durations

3.66

We have no means of testing the accuracy of reporting beyond the above discussed adjustments. However, the average number of children does taper off to a reasonable extent toward the end of each of Tables 4

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and 5, which is what we would expect under unchanging fertility.2 Therefore, we can at least say that, among women aged 45 and over, there is no indication that a woman was more apt to forget the number of her children as she advanced in age. TABLE 5

Age specific cumulative reproduction Age

rates.

Cumulative reproduction rates

Under 20 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45-49 50-54 55-59 60-64 65 and over

.41 1.19 2.38 3.52 4.75 5.25 6.00 5.68 6.40 5.82 5.96

All ages

3.66

DIFFERENTIAL FERTILITY BY GEOGRAPHIC REGIONS

For the purposes of this study, the only possible way of separating urban and rural data in the available tables is to divide the whole country into two sections: (1) urban including the five governorates (cities) and (2) predominately rural including the provinces. Now since we have no access to cross-classifications of reproduction, marriage duration, and age for geographic sections, the reproduction of two sections can be compared only by averaging the data supplied by the three univariate tables mentioned before, namely the distributions of married women in 1947 according to number of children born during the current marriage, duration of marriage, or age. When we start to calculate the average number of children per married woman in each of the two sections we find ourselves confronted again with the above discussed deficiency in the number of childless women due to the insertion of some of them in the 'number of children not given' category. The averages are found to be 3.61 in the governorates and " For a discussion of the stability of fertility in Egypt, see El-Badry: "Some Demographic Measurements for Egypt", Milbank Memorial Fund Quarterly, July, 1955.

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3.68 in the provinces, if we assume that the proportion to be shifted from the 'number of children not given' category into the zero children category because of this error is the same in the two sections. We have no way of judging the validity of this assumption, but the fact that the proportion of all women with 'number of children not given' is 12 per cent in the governorates and 14 per cent in the provinces suggests a higher degree of incidence of this error in the latter section. If we attribute this excess of 2 per cent in the provinces to this error only, shift it to the zero children category, calculate the remaining frequency that should be shifted to that category, and distribute it over the two sections according to the total number of women in each, we find that the average number of children per married woman becomes 3.65 in the cities and 3.66 in the provinces.3 It is thus obvious that no matter what the extent of this error is, the excess reproduction in the provinces over the governorates is in all probability below .1 children per married woman. The standard error of difference is less than .005. Let us now compare the durations of marriage in the two communities. First we find that the observed high percentage of women with unknown duration, being practically the same in the two communities, is unlikely to affect the difference between average durations. We also find that in order to calculate the average durations we have to assume a mean value for the duration interval 45 years and over. If, for example, we assume that this mean value is 55 years we get average durations of marriage equal to 13.1 and 14.7 years in the governorates and the provinces respectively. The mean value of 55 years, though plausible, may seem rather arbitrary. However, since there exist a larger proportion of marriages of duration 45 years and over in the provinces, a lower limit for the difference between the two averages can be obtained by differencing the average durations for marriages that lasted less than 45 years up till the census. The latter difference is found to be 1.3 years. (The averages for marriages of duration below 45 years are 12.9 years in the governorates and 14.2 years in the provinces). Thus, while the rural section of the population has an average excess of over 1.3 years of married life for each marriage that existed in 1947, it has produced an excess of at most .1 children on the average during that marriage. Needless to say, the two figures do not show any excess in rural fertility over that of the urban areas. 3

In calculating the average reproduction, a mean value of 12 children for the interval 10 and over was assumed. It was found that a mean value of 11 would still keep the difference between the provinces and governorates well below .1 children. A mean value larger than 12 would reduce even further the calculated difference because of the existence of a larger proportion of women with 10 or more children in the governorates.

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One should be careful, however, in interpreting these figures, since the above argument ignores the differences in age distribution of married women in the two sections of the population. TABLE 6

Percentage age distribution by age of women in Alexandria and Sharkia. Percentage age distribution Age Alexandria Under 20 20-29 30-39 40-49 50 and over

6.7 33.9 31.0 17.9 10.5

Sharkia 5.4 33.3 31.4 18.8 11.1

This difficulty can be avoided by examining an urban and a rural community, Alexandria and Sharkia, where only slight differences exist between age and duration distributions of married women in the two communities. The age distributions are as shown in Table 6. The effect of the slight discrepancy between the two distributions on reproduction can be figured by calculating a standardized average number of children per TABLE 7

Percentage distribution of women in Alexandria and Sharkia by duration of marriage. Percentage distribution Marriage duration Alexandria 0-4 5-9 10-14 15-19 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45 and over Total

Sharkia

26.5 20.6 15.4 12.3 11.3 5.7 4.6 1.7 1.4 .6

25.0 20.5 16.5 12.7 10.2 5.9 4.9 1.7 1.7 1.0

100.1

100.1

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177

current marriage in 1947 in each of the two communities. This can be done by weighting the frequency in each age interval by the average number of children born to women in the same interval in the whole country, as given by Table 5. This procedure will give standardized averages equal to 3.51 in Alexandria and 3.64 in Sharkia. The age distribution in Sharkia is thus favorable to an excess of. 1 children per married woman if the women in the two communities are reproducing at rates equal to those of the whole country. Moreover, the distributions of the same women according to marriage duration are practically identical. (Table 7) When the two distributions are weighted by the average number of children per marriage in the whole country for each duration, as given by Table 4, the resulting standardized average number of children per marriage is found to be 3.43 in Alexandria and 3.49 in Sharkia, which are very nearly equal; the duration distribution in the latter being favorable to a very slight excess in reproduction. We thus have for comparison an urban and a rural community both of which are reasonably large (Alexandria had 153, 594 women of given marriage duration in 1947 while Sharkia had 248,180) and which have nearly the same age and duration distributions. The data on reproduction in the two communities give the averages of 3.59 and 3.23 children per married woman in Alexandria and Sharkia respectively.4 When we consider that the slight discrepancies between the age and duration distributions favor higher reproduction in Sharkia, we find it hard to avoid coming to the conclusion that the two figures obtained on average reproduction do not support the presumption of lower marital fertility of women in urban than in rural areas. Attention may now be turned to comparison of reproduction in the governorates and the provinces. Here we find that the duration of marriage is favorable to larger reproduction in the provinces. This is indicated, as said before, by the excess duration of more than 1.3 years in the former. It is also demonstrated very clearly by the percentage distributions of married women in 1947 according to their duration of marriage (Table 8), where the governorates obviously outrank the provinces with respect to proportion of recent marriages, i.e. those contracted within the previous ten years. 4 The two averages are adjusted for the insertion of some women actually belonging to the zero children category in the "number of children not given" category. The adjustment was to shift the same percentage as was adopted before for the whole country from the latter category into the former. The average for Sharkia would be reduced - and the difference between the averages in the two communities would consequently be increased - if we shift a higher percentage in the case of Sharkia to allow for the observed higher percentage of women with "number of children not given, which is equal to 16.8 per cent as compared to 13.0 per cent in Alexandria.

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M.A.El-Badry TABLE 8

Percentage distribution of married women by duration of marriage, in the governorates and provinces of Egypt, 1947. Percentage distribution of married women Marriage duration Governorates 0-4 5-9 10-14 15-19 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45 and over Total

Provinces

28.1 21.0 15.1 11.7 10.4 5.8 4.4 1.7 1.3 .6

23.4 19.1 15.7 13.0 11.3 6.5 5.6 2.2 2.0 1.2

100.1

100.0

One can assert further that marriage duration is favorable to higher reproduction in the provinces by calculating the standardized average number of children per married woman that would result if the women given by the above two distributions were reproducing at the rates given TABLE 9

Percentage age distribution of married women in the governorates and provinces of Egypt, 1947. Percentage distribution of married women Age

Under 20 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45-49 50-54 55-59 60-64 65 and over Total

Governorates

Provinces

8.06 16.98 18.72 15.79 14.21 10.34 6.80 4.87 1.90 1.48 .86

5.44 13.24 18.17 16.17 15.28 11.38 8.30 5.75 2.62 2.14 1.52

100.01

100.01

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179

by Table 4 for married women in the whole country. The standardized averages are found to be 3.34 in the governorates and 3.67 in the provinces. Let us now compare the age distributions of married women in 1947 in those two sections of the population. The percentage distributions are as shown in Table 9. If the reproduction rates are the same then one would expect the age distribution in the provinces to be favorable to higher reproduction because it has a larger proportion of women aged 30 and over. The evidence is strengthened when we weight the above proportions by the average number of children per woman in each age group, as given by Table 5, and get the standardized averages of 3.40 in the governorates and 3.71 in the provinces. To summarize the available information: On the one hand, when we standardize the number of children per marriage in the urban and rural sections by means of weights obtained from the reproduction of the two communities together, we find that, other factors affecting reproduction remaining equal, age and duration distributions acting separately are each favorable to an excess of .3 children per marriage in the rural section. On the other hand, data on reproduction show an excess not larger than .1 children with a standard error less than .005 in the latter section. Thus these results fail again to support the assumption of higher fertility of married women in rural than in urban Egypt. The same story is repeated when we compare Cairo with the rest of the country. Again we find that married women in Cairo are younger and that the difference in age distribution leads to a deficiency there equal to .34 children per marriage if the rates for the whole country are applied. (The standardized averages there are 3.35 in Cairo and 3.69 in the rest of the country). We also find duration of current marriage shorter in Cairo, leading to a deficiency of .36 children per marriage when the frequencies in each duration are weighted by the rates of the whole country. (The standardized average number of children in this case is 3.29 in Cairo and 3.65 elsewhere). Thus, while the differences in age and duration distributions lead to deficiencies in Cairo of .34 and .36 children per marriage respectively if the rates for the whole country are applied, data on reproduction show a deficiency of only .09 children per marriage there. (The average number of children per marriage is 3.58 in Cairo and 3.67 elsewhere).5 The remain5

The frequency in the zero children category was adjusted, as before, by adding to it, in each of the two communities, the same percentage of women with "number of children not given" as was adopted before for the whole country. The average number of children in the rest of Egypt and its difference from that in Cairo will both be reduced if a higher percentage is adopted in the case of the rest of Egypt to allow for the observed higher percentage of women with "number of children not given", which equals 14.2 per cent as compared to 12.2 per cent in Cairo.

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M.A.El-Badry

ing part of the deficiency, namely over .2 children per marriage, could not be accounted for if Cairo had lower fertility than the rest of Egypt. The results so far obtained can be summarized as follows: Unless the degree of understatement of the number of children ever born to rural women was higher than that among urban women, there is nothing in the available census material to support the assumption that fertility of married women is lower in urban than in rural Egypt.

DIFFERENTIAL FERTILITY BY OCCUPATION

As already stated, the 1947 census tabulations on fertility do not include the occupation of the father. However, owing to the importance of this question which might indicate the prospects of growth within the different classes and whether any class is practicing fertility limitation in any form, use will be made here of a table published in the 1947 Vital Statistics entitled "Live births by order occupation of father". The table includes father of the 352,000 births of known order that took place during 1947 in the Health Bureau areas. It goes without saying that the data given by such a table do not represent absolute fertility because they pertain to the reproduction of a group of married men who had births in a certain year - thus excluding the childless. Even with respect to relative fertility, the table ignores the possible class differences in interruption of married life by widowhood, divorce, and separation. One must also be aware of the uncertainty, in some of the cases, as to whether the reported order of birth was based upon the aggregate offspring of the father rather than upon those born during the current marriage only. Besides, there is evidence that the frequencies of births of first and second order, as given by the table, are below reality in all occupational groups. However, we will attempt here to condense the information supplied by the table and then draw whichever conclusions that seem safe. The 76 occupations given in the original table have been condensed for the purposes of this study into ten occupation groups. Each group was designed to include occupations of the same general nature and to increase the likelihood that the person had spent all his reproductive life in the same group. The ten broad occupation groups are as follows: (1) Agricultural laborers. Those include the paid laborers as well as those who cultivate their own land or that of the members of their families. (2) Nonagricultural laborers. This category has by far the widest variety of employments. Besides all sorts of manual nonagricultural laborers, the group contains drivers, coachmen, sailors, nurses, porters, shop assistants, peddlers, waiters, and servants.

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(3) Policemen and messengers. (4) Merchants. This category includes all kinds of traders, commission agents, brokers, auctioneers, and contractors. (5) Religious employees. All kinds of priests, preachers, mosque and church assistants, and Moslem judges were grouped together in order to form a category which could be presumed to be virtually noncontraceptive. (6) Teachers. (7) Lawyers, prosecutors, and judges. (8) Journalists, authors, actors, and musicians. (9) Administration officers, comprising clerks, computors, secretaries, supervisors, and top officials, both in civil service and in private business. (10) Engineers, doctors, officers, and technicians. The occupations under 10 were combined because they were found to possess very similar reproduction and also because they have similar economic and educational standards. Occupations 6, 7 and 8 were left separate despite their comparatively small sizes because they had distinct reproduction which would be obscured if they were added to group 9 or 10. A number of minor occupations appearing in the original table and comprising 15,022 individuals were not included in the condensed groups 1-10 for one of the following reasons: (1) Two or more heterogeneous TABLE 10

Differential reproduction by father's occupation.

Occupation group of father

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7)

Agricultural laborers Nonagricultural laborers Policemen and messengers Merchants Religious employees Teachers Lawyers, prosecutors and judges (8) Journalists, authors, actors and musicians (9) Administrative officers (10) Engineers, doctors, officers and technicians

Number of fathers of 1947 births

Average number of children ever born to 1,000 fathers of 1947 births

65,294 156,113 14,992 53,860 2,056 5,562

3,899 3,879 3,951 4,105 4,407 4,124

10 7 20 11 60 33

574

3,814

99

725 31,927

3,852 3,806

88 14

4,607

3,455

33

Standard error of the average

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M.A.El-Badry

employments were grouped together under one title in the original table. An example of this is the grouping of teachers of penmanship and Koran in the villages together with the teachers of athletics, music, and dancing in the regular and higher schools. Another example is that of the guards who can be either urban or rural. (2) The members of an occupation are known to be advanced in age and yet cannot be attached to any of the major employments. Examples of this case are village mayors, tribal chiefs, and landlords. Another 1,568 births were added to the excluded groups because the father or his occupation was unknown. The reproduction of these occupation groups is given in Table 10 where the average number of children is calculated by averaging the orders of children born in 1947 for each group. It is obvious that since all fathers under consideration belong to Health Bureau areas, the occupational distribution in the table is not representative of the whole country. Consequently, no total rates are presented. If we assume similar accuracy of reporting among agricultural and nonagricultural laborers, we come to the interesting result that the reproduction of the two groups is practically the same. The observed difference of 20 children per thousand fathers has a standard error of 11.4 and cannot therefore be considered significant. The policemen and messengers, for whom the accuracy of reporting is not likely to differ greatly from the two groups of laborers, showed significantly higher reproduction. All or part of this excess may have arisen from difference in age. When we compare the reproduction of the well educated group - 6, teachers; 7, lawyers, prosecutors, and judges; 8, journalists, authors, actors, and musicians; 9, administrative officers; and 10, engineers, doctors, officers, and technicians - who are all expected to have the same accuracy of reporting, we notice at once the very significantly higher reproduction of the teachers. It seems unlikely that the observed excess is attributable to differences in age because the teachers include the large group primary school teachers.5 One might suspect that the reproduction of this group was inflated by the presence of the school administrative staff. Yet this suspicion does not seem to be justified because the occupation group of administrative officers (group 9 in Table 10), to which the school administration staff naturally belong, indicates a much lower reproduction than that of the aggregate group of teachers and administrative officers in schools. Next, and significantly lower in reproduction than the teachers and any of the groups 1-5, we find the three groups 7, lawyers, prosecutors, and judges; 8, journalists, authors, actors, and 6

It was not possible to check the accuracy of this statement by means of the census age distributions because those distributions include all persons working in education, medicine, law, etc., a large number of whom are outside the occupations under consideration.

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musicians; and 9, administrative officers. The differences between the three groups were not significant. The reproduction of the tenth and final group, namely engineers, doctors, officers, and technicians is very significantly lower than that of any other group in the table. The observed difference between the last four groups, namely 7-10, and any other group in the table, except the teachers, should be even more significant if the tendency to leave out the dead children or to mention only those born during the current marriage decreases with education. However, one cannot deduce, without further evidence, that the low reproduction groups are deliberately practicing fertility control. Late age at marriage, because of extended education, may be a major factor in the observed lower reproduction. Table 10 shows that the reproduction of religious employees is very significantly higher than any other group. They are followed by the merchants who again are significantly higher than the groups 1-3 and 7-10. The excess in reproduction of the religious employees and merchants over the educated groups 7-10 is, in all probability, true because difference in accuracy of reporting all children, live or dead, born during the current or previous marriages would still add to this excess. The observed excess cannot be conclusive, however, when we compare the reproduction of those two groups with that of the non-educated groups 1-3, because it may have arisen from better reporting among religious employees and merchants.

COMPLETED REPRODUCTION OF A MARRIED WOMAN

We shall estimate here how many births a married woman will have when she terminates her reproductive period in marriage. The census data give an average of 5.9 children born during the current marriage to women aged 45 and over in 1947. This figure does not represent the full number of progeny because it pertains to current marriages only, thus excluding the offspring by previous marriages. Steps (a) and (b) of the following procedure, which are adopted to estimate the reproduction in previous marriages, lead to the following estimated percentage distribution of married women aged 45 and over according to civil status before their current marriage: 68.1 never married before, 24.4 divorced, and 7.5 widowed. It is thus 31.9 per cent of married women aged 45 and over who have had previous marital experience. The previous reproduction of the latter women should be estimated and pooled with the reproduction from current marriage of all married women aged 45 and over in order to estimate the completed reproduction of a married woman. This reproduction in previous marriages will be estimated as follows:

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(a) The age at marriage for married women in each age interval above 45 years is calculated from the 1947 census table which distributes married women by age and duration of marriage. For example, the 80,511 women of age 50-54 and duration 30-34 were aged 15-24 at the beginning of their current marriage. (b) By using the 1947 vital statistics table which distributes the women married in 1947 by age and civil status before marriage and assuming that this table represents approximately the status of women included in the table mentioned in (a) at the beginning of their current marriage, we can calculate the distribution according to civil status before the current marriage of the women aged 45 and over in each age-duration cell in the table referred to in (a). For example, the vital statistics table distributes the women married at ages 15-24 as follows: 88 per cent never married before, 11 per cent divorced and 1 per cent widowed. These percentages will give the distribution of the above mentioned 80,511 women of age 50-54 and duration 30-34 according to their civil status before their current marriage. (c) For every duration-age cell in the table referred to in (a) we have thus far estimated the number of women married after divorce or widowhood and calculated their ages at the beginning of their current marriages. We proceed now to calculate their previous reproduction. This will be estimated for those married after divorce from the 1947 table which distributes the divorced women remarried in 1947 by age and number of children from previous marriages. (Table 11). Given the age of the TABLE 11

Number of divorced women remarried in 1947 by age and average number of children from previous marriages. Age

15-19 20-24 25-29 30-34 35-39 40-44 45-49 50-54 55-59 60-64 65 and over All ages

Number of divorced women remarried in 1947

3,180 16.801 22,241 12,228 19.258 10,131 4,766 2,288 808 278 27 67,174

Average number of children from previous marriages .08 .20 .41 .71 .85 1.16 1.42 1.60 1.79 1.97 2.30 .56

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divorced woman at remarriage and adopting the above averages as estimates of her previous reproduction, we can calculate the cumulative reproduction from previous marriage of married women in 1947 who were divorced before their current marriage. For example, the above mentioned 80,511 χ .11 married women of duration 30-34 and age 15-24 at the beginning of their current marriage who were divorced before that marriage will have a previous reproduction equal to 80,511 χ .11 χ .18 where .18 is the average given by the table for the age interval 15-24. It was not possible to find information in the published statistics that would throw light on the previous reproduction of women who were widows before their current marriage. Vital statistics, for example, do not include a table similar to the one utilized in the preceding paragraph to estimate the reproduction of previously divorced women. It is obvious, however, that there is no reason for expecting their previous reproduction to be lower than that given in Table 11 for divorced women. In fact, one would expect previous reproduction to be higher in the case of widows since the contributing factor in divorce, namely childlessness or few children, does not apply to widowhood. Therefore, by following the same procedure as in the preceding paragraph, we can calculate a figure which is in all probability not higher than the reproduction of previously widowed women in each age-duration cell from their preceding marriages. We can also obtain an upper limit of their previous reproduction by treating them as if they had passed the whole interval between the dates of their previous and current marriages with their deceased husbands. For example, according to this assumption, the above mentioned 80,511 women of duration 30-34 and age 15-24 at the beginning of their current marriage have a total previous reproduction equal to 80,511 χ .01 χ .95, where .95 is the average reproduction of married women in 1947 in the age interval 15-24. We finally have access to the following information on the progeny of married women aged 45 and over: (1) total reproduction in current marriage, (2) estimated total reproduction in previous marriage broken by divorce, (3) two estimated limits of the total reproduction in previous β

The reader will notice that the averages provided by this table are low compared to those of currently married women of the same ages. This is due to: (1) Most of the divorced women have no or very few children. For instance, of the women divorced in 1947, 75 per cent had no children during their last marriage. This proportion ranged from 95 per cent in ages 15-19 to 65 per cent in ages 70-74. (2) An unmarried woman with no or few children is more likely to get remarried than one who has numerous children. (3) The women included in the table have not been reproducing during the period between the two marriages. (4) It is quite possible that the number of live children rather than that of children ever born was reported in some cases. This error is of unknown extent but it is not likely to affect the average completed progeny of married women calculated by averaging the pooled reproduction of all marriages.

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marriage broken by death of the husband. By pooling the three kinds of reproduction we finally find that a woman who terminates her reproductive period in marriage has an average completed reproduction between 6.2 and 6.4 children.

CONCLUSION

The tables on reproduction, marriage duration, and age of married women in Egypt, supplied for the first time by the 1947 census, are undoubtedly a contribution to the study of fertility in Egypt. The tables are by no means adequate, however, when utilized to investigate differential fertility among sections of the population. The shortage of data necessitated the use of rather crude and lengthy procedures in this paper in order to secure some evidence of class fertility differentials. It would have helped this study considerably if the number of children were cross-classified in the census by age of mother and duration of current marriage, for broad geographic regions as well as for occupation groups of the father. No evidence was found in the census or vital statistics data to support the assumption of lower fertility in urban than in rural Egypt. Reproduction was found to be lower to some extent among a limited number of educated people in urban areas. On the average, a woman terminating her reproductive period in marriage was found to have had between 6.2 and 6.4 children. The published data showed clearly that there were major problems in the execution of the census. It was found that in numerous cases the enumerators simply failed to insert a mark denoting zero children and hence necessitated classification as 'not given'. It was also obvious that in an incredibly high percentage of the cases the census information was supplied by a neighbor or some person outside the family. This is clear from the fact that while over 10 per cent of the durations and 14 per cent of the numbers of children were not given, ages were lacking for only 3 per thousand of the women. Such errors in data collection not only reduce the amount of the available information but also give rise to serious hazards in interpretation. REFERENCES (1) 1947 Census of Egypt (Government Press, Cairo, 1953). (2) 1947 Vital Statistics of Egypt (Government Press, Cairo, 1952). (3) El-Badry, Μ. Α., "Some Demographic Measurements for Egypt", Milbank Memorial Fund Quarterly, xxxii, No. 3 (July, 1955), pp. 268-305. (4) 1950 United States Census of Population, Special Report P-E No. 5 C-Fertility (United States Bureau of the Census, 1955).

Section II CULTURE

R. Patai

THE MIDDLE EAST AS A CULTURE AREA*

Patai's article on "The Middle East as a Culture Area" covers the whole of the Arab World plus Turkey and Iran, and is the best short analysis which is in print in English. Although much has happened in the area since 1953, the date of the article, and some of the generalizations have become thinner in recent years, the traditional culture behind the changes is generally still true as is Patai's indication of areas of further change. The problem of describing the normative culture in an area as fast changing in some respects as the Middle East can only be resolved in defining change as a normative factor. Already the relatively stable society of the Ottoman Empire has changed so much that descriptions of this society are apt to mislead those who are interested in learning about the present. For this reason parts of the analysis of the culture of the area are included in the section on social institutions and social change and other parts are somewhat arbitrarily put in this section. For the purposes of the present discussion the Middle East will be considered as comprising the entire western half of the great Afro-Asian * The Middle East Journal, Vol. 6, No. 1 (Winter 1952). This paper aims at presenting the culture of the Middle East in its traditional aspects, as resulting from its inner organic growth. Consequently, the impact of Western civilization, which has been an increasingly important factor in recent cultural developments in the area, has been largely left out of consideration. Raphael Patai is a Professor of Anthropology at the Dropsie College, Philadelphia and visiting Professor at Columbia University. He is the author of numerous books and articles dealing with the social and cultural problems of the Middle East, among them "The Middle East as a Culture Area". He is also consultant on the Middle East in the department of Social Affairs of the United Nations.

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desert-and-steppe zone together with the more fertile minor regions immediately contiguous to it or contained islandlike within it.1 To delimit the area geographically, it will be defined as including the northern part of Africa from the Mediterranean down to approximately latitude 12°N, and southwest Asia with the Black Sea, the Caucasus, the Caspian Sea and the Turkestan and Indian plains as the northern and eastern boundaries. An attempt will be made to show that the culture characteristics found in all parts of this vast stretch of land stamp it with the quality of a culture area.2 It must be stated at the outset that such an enormous land area - several times larger than any of the culture areas determined in the Americas by Wissler3 or in Africa by Herskovits4 - will obviously show a considerable range of cultural variation from one sub-area to another. Structurally, Middle Eastern culture is therefore not strictly comparable to any single culture area of America or Africa; it is rather parallelled by a concept like 'European culture' which, though indicating homogeneity in certain basic over-all features, covers several distinct subcultures. Geographical factors themselves subdivide the Middle East into four major regions, each with a desert-and-steppe area in its center and a more fertile, cultivated perimeter encircling it. These four regions are North Africa, the Arabian peninsula, the Iranian plateau, and Asia Minor. Of these, by far the largest, and characterized by the most unfavorable desert-sown5 ratio, is North Africa; second in both respects is the Arabian peninsula; third is the Iranian plateau; and fourth is Asia Minor. The sown region is, generally speaking, Mediterranean in character with long, hot, and rainless summers; rainy, temperate winters; and a natural vegetation ranging from grass to open deciduous forests. The desert has great extremes of temperature, almost no rain at any time of the year, and a very scanty vegetation of low grasses and drought resistant 1 The latest and best cartographical representation can be found in the Atlas International Larousse, 1950, p. 23a. 2 The Middle East (or Near East) as a geographical term is most frequently applied only to the Asiatic part of this area plus Egypt. W. B. Fisher, The Middle East: A Physical, Social and Regional Geography (New York, 1950), also includes Cyrenaica. 3 Wissler, C., The American Indian, 2nd ed. (New York, 1922). 4 Herskovits, M.J., "The Culture Areas of Africa", Africa, III (1931); Backgrounds of African Art (Denver, 1945); Man and His Works (New York, 1948). Cf. the culture areas of Asia as defined by Bacon, E. and Hudson, A. E., "Asia (Ethnology)", Encyclopaedia Britannica, II (1945); Bacon, E., "A Preliminary Attempt to Determine the Culture Areas of Asia", Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, II (1946), pp. 117-132; Patai, R., "Nomadism: Middle Eastern and Central Asian", Southwestern Journal of Anthropology, VII (Winter 1951). 5 The expression 'sown' is taken from the title of Gertrude Bell's well-known book, Syria: The Desert and the Sown (London, 1907).

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bushes. The transition between the desert and the sown is, as a rule (with the notable exception of the two great riverain zones of the Nile and Tigris-Euphrates), a semi-desert or grazing-steppe belt of varying width. Parts of this steppe-belt can be swallowed up temporarily or more permanently by either the desert or the sown, yielding to prolonged droughts, abundant rains, or population pressures. Somewhere in the general area of the grazing steppe are located, as a rule, the typical old Middle Eastern towns which (in addition to the coastal towns) are the cultural centers of their respective subareas.

The Middle East as a Culture Area

If in a general overview of the Middle East the relative extent of the desert and the sown is taken as a basic consideration, the impression gained is one of an arid area which is more than overwhelmingly desert, and only a very small percentage of which is utilized for agricultural pursuits. Exact data are lacking, but it is estimated that not more than 5 percent of the total area of the Middle East is utilized for cultivation with either hoe or plough, and that the lands actually under cultivation at any given time comprise considerably less territory than even this small figure. With regard to surface area, therefore, the Middle East as a whole is a definitely desert-and-steppe area; and the ways of human adaptation to life in the desert and the steppe - that is, animal husbandry would seem to be the most significant characteristic of the Middle Eastern culture area.

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A very different picture, however, is obtained if the percentage of the population supporting itself by animal husbandry and agricultural pursuits respectively is considered. In this case it is found that the Middle East as a whole is an overwhelmingly agricultural area. Between 60 and 65 percent of the total working population is engaged directly in agriculture. An additional percentage either lives in villages rendering services to agriculturists - such as artisans, teachers, religious personnel, watchmen, etc. - or engages in supplementary or irregular agriculture. Some 18 percent of the total population of the Middle East lives in towns and cities. This leaves roughly 17 percent for the nomadic and seminomadic people who eke out a living on the steppes and the deserts of the area.6 Corresponding to the ecological picture, the demography of each country in the area also shows a threefold structure. The desert is the habitat of the true nomad, the steppe-belt the domain of the seminomad, and the sown the home of the agriculturist. Transitional stages and localized variations of these population types make for additional diversification. The full nomads rely on their camels as a source of food, of raw material for shelter, clothing, trappings, and utensils, and as a means of transportation. 7 No other population group utilizes so completely a single species of animals as its source of livelihood. The camel-nomads' mode of life is characterized by seasonal wandering over a fairly extensive tribal territory in constant search of pasture for their camels. The complete dryness of the desert in the long summer months forces them to draw near the steppe and the sown, but as soon as the winter rains, and the desert vegetation following their wake, render it possible, they move far out into the heart of the desert. The seminomads breed sheep and goats or cattle in place of the camels of the true nomads. This difference in itself is basic to the total gamut of differences perceivable in the ways of life of these two groups. Sheep and goats are less hardy than camels; they cannot stay away from water for days; they need better and softer pasture, and their mobility is thus much more limited. Consequently, the sheep- and goat-nomads stay within the grazing steppe belt, or, more precisely, in that part of the steppe belt which represents the transition between it and the sown. The annual cycle of seasonal wandering is the rule also for the seminomads, but their wandering territory is much smaller and their movements are much slower than those of the camel-nomads. In the Sudan, south of latitude 13°N, cattle grazing seminomads (the so-called Baqqara) take the place of the " These estimates are based on a number of sources dealing with individual countries within the area. Also data collected by various departments of the United Nations Secretariat have been considered. 7 Patai, op. cit.

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sheep- and goat-nomads of the northern outskirts of the desert. Cattle gain in importance also in Southern Arabia. A special kind of seminomadism is the one practiced by the peoples of the mountainous regions of the Middle East, especially around the Iranian plateau, but also in Morocco. In this type of wandering, called 'transhumance', the characteristic annual cycle of movement takes the groups high up into the mountains in the summer and again down to the warmer and milder valleys or the lower levels of the plateau in the winter. Transhumance is therefore the vertical variant of the horizontal nomadism discussed hitherto. Characteristic of all the true and seminomads of the area, whether of the horizontal or the vertical variety, is the black hair tent, the only shelter used by them. The only other place outside the Middle East where the black hair tent is found is Tibet, and its presence there must be accounted for by diffusion.8 Another characteristic shared by all the wandering peoples of the Middle East is the tribal structure. The tribe is, according to belief and tradition, a group of families all of whom are the patrilineal descendants of one common ancestor. Each tribe is a homogeneous social unit whose native members are social equals. This definition excludes slaves and people who joined the tribe from the outside. The tribe as such has little actual significance, since tribal affinity is a somewhat vague tie. The actual functioning unit is the wandering group which varies greatly in size as well as in standing within the tribal structure. In contrast to the classless structure of each tribe in itself, the totality of wandering tribes shows quite a range of variation with regard to degree of social standing, or 'nobility'. Distinction is also made between noble and client tribes (e.g., the Sa'di and Marabtin tribes of Cyrenaica). In general it can be stated that the true or camel-nomads are regarded as the noble tribes, while the artisan groups (the so-called sanV) which are protected by them are regarded to be of much lower standing, as are also the sheep- and goat-nomads, or the semi-stationary inhabitants of the Iraqi marshes. Despised by both are the settled cultivators, 'the slaves of the soil'. This tribal structure is such an unmistakable hallmark of nomadism that wherever it exists among settled villagers it can be taken as a definite indication of the fact that they are the descendants of nomads who, in the not very remote past, settled down to sedentary agricultural life. The most typical example is that of the Kurds, who though settled in village strongholds retain not only the tribal structure but also several other characteristics which distinguish the roaming nomads from the settled cultivators. 8

Feilberg, C. G., Ya Tente Noire (Copenhagen, 1944); Patai, op. cit.

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Sedentarization is a socio-cultural phenomenon which can be observed in every part of the Middle East. The process has not yet been studied sufficiently, but tentatively a number of transitional stages from nomadic to settled life can be distinguished.9 The characteristic socio-political trait of the nomadic tribe is the lack of political organization or political institutions. The only effective social control is that exercised on the local level by the informally constituted council, headed by a chieftain (shaykh) of the immediate wandering unit. This small chieftain in most cases recognizes the overlordship of a greater chief (also called shaykh), the head of the entire tribe, but his allegiance to him is minimal, and to all intents and purposes he is (or was until the recent reorganization of the Middle Eastern states) independent of any power or influence external to the wandering unit itself. The unification of several wandering groups into one more or less closely knit unit, such as a large tribe or even a tribal confederation, though not unknown in the history of the Middle East was always a rare occurrence, of an exceptional nature and of an ephemeral character. The small independent wandering unit has remained most typical. The interrelationship between one wandering unit and another is governed by certain principles validated by tradition, enjoying unquestionable authority, and constituting everywhere the basis of tribal ethos. Among these can be mentioned the principle of collective responsibility, which is expressed in such institutions as the blood feud and raiding, the inviolate laws of hospitality and sanctuary, and the concepts of honor, name, and nobility. All these ideas and ideals appear in their most intensive form among the true nomads, and they successively lose their significance as one proceeds across the range from the true nomads, through the seminomads, to the semisedentary and the completely sedentary cultivators. The main areas of cultivation in the Middle East are those which either receive sufficient rain to make cultivation of field crops possible or can be irrigated from the water of rivers or wells for a more intensive utilization of the land. One or both of these types of cultivated lands can be found in every part of the Middle East, the typical example of the former being the more northerly or mountainous countries (Turkey, Iran, Syria, Morocco), while the latter is best exemplified by the riverain agriculture of the Nile and the Tigris-Euphrates valleys or the oases of the Sahara and Arabia. Material equipment which has to be closely adapted to the nomadic and sedentary modes of life respectively, and which, under the technologi8

Kirkbride, Α., "Changes in Tribal Life in Trans-Jordan", Man, No. 23 (MarchApril 1945).

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cally backward conditions of the Middle East, has to depend on the locally available raw materials, reveals marked differences not only as between nomads and cultivators but also among the settled villagers themselves from one subarea to another. The nomadic camp is largely the same all over the Middle East: tents pitched at a comfortable distance from one another, and in a definite orderly pattern. The village, on the other hand, shows a highly nucleated, closely packed structure, in which house leans against house with narrow winding paths leading between them, without any plan or design, and in which the limiting influence of the available raw materials is strongly felt. However, despite the diversity of building material - stone in the mountains, mud or adobe on the plains, reed in the marshes, and palm leaves and fronds in the deep south - the floor plan of the houses shows an almost identical range in most parts of the Middle East. The simplest structure everywhere is the square one-room building (an exception being the so-called 'beehive' houses in some villages in the Alawite region of Syria) which can be increased by a simple 'budding' process into two, three, or more rooms. A special local development are the high houses in the towns of Yemen and Hadhramaut in Southern Arabia, which boast of three, four, five, or even more stories and a correspondingly larger number of rooms. The common feature of all these houses is that they are inhabited by only one single extended family. In fact, family and house are so closely associated that the same word is used to denote both in ancient as well as in modern Semitic languages. Comparable variations could be shown to exist with regard to clothing, furnishings, utensils, household articles, and the like - again, however, with the reservation that these differences seem significant only when material objects from different parts of the Middle East are compared among themselves. When, on the other hand, they are compared with articles hailing from adjacent areas outside the Middle East (Negro Africa, Europe, India, or Central Asia), the local differences all but disappear and melt into an over-all Middle Eastern type. In the field of social culture the most important complex which is basically similar all over the area is undoubtedly the family. The family occupies a focal position in Middle Eastern culture, and its structure and functioning are practically identical not only among nomadic and settled peoples, but also among the majority of urban populations in which Westernization has not yet made appreciable inroads. In traditional Middle Eastern society the family is patrilocal, patrilineal, patriarchal, and extended. It is usually headed by an elderly male, and its membership comprises all his sons with their wives and children, and the unmarried daughters and granddaughters (sons' daughters). The entire family, which may consist of several dozen members, resides together in a cluster of neighboring tents in the nomadic camp; in a single house or in

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several buildings clustering around a common courtyard in the villages and towns. When the grandfather dies, the extended family breaks up into as many new units as there are sons, each one of whom will then become the head of a new and separate extended family. Marriage customs, sex mores, the position of women, and the division of labor between men and women are completely analogous, and in many cases identical, in the nomadic camp, the agricultural village, and the town (with the exception of the thin middle and upper classes in the latter). Marriage is highly endogamous, the preferred mating being between children of two brothers. Polygyny is permissive rather than customary, and certainly fewer than 5 percent of the married men have more than one wife simultaneously. The relationship between the sexes is governed by a rigid code of sex mores and ethical ideals with special emphasis on female 'purity' and chastity, both premarital and postmarital. Nevertheless, veiling and seclusion of women is practiced only sporadically, mainly in middle- and upper-class society in the towns. The traditional mores - not recognized by state laws - afford men the right to kill their female dependents if apprehended in an illicit sex relation. A man can very easily divorce his wife at will or whim; a woman has no legal way of obtaining a divorce against the wishes of her husband. Economically, too, the extended family is the basic unit. In the nomadic tribe the extended family holds all property - that is, camels and other livestock - in common. In the village the extended family owns jointly the lands from whose cultivation it derives its livelihood, while in the towns it owns and manages jointly the enterprise from which its members make a living. Earnings are as a rule pooled and the expenses of the household defrayed from the common purse. The women may help in the field if their husbands work land which they own; otherwise their place is at home and their main task is to make the meager earnings of the men go a long way by working hard and economizing tightly, sharing household chores or taking turns in performing them. The number of children is great, placing the Middle Eastern birthrate among the highest in the world, but this is counterbalanced by a very high rate of infant and child mortality as a consequence of which general life expectancy is cut down to appallingly low averages. Institutionalized schooling in its traditional form means religious education; it is more the exception than the rule, and is rudimentary. Social conditioning is achieved mainly in the course of informal processes of education, and socialization takes place within the family circle. Since the children begin at an early age to participate in the work of their parents, an early differentiation between the sexes appears, the boys being introduced to male occupations by their father or elder brothers, and the girls to female tasks by their mother or elder sisters. When girls marry at puberty, or

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more frequently before puberty, they are whisked away from the parental home, and as a consequence their relationship with their parents becomes very loose and remote from then on. The Middle Eastern bride becomes totally absorbed into the household of her husband's family. The stern tutelage of her own mother is supplanted by the even more rigid one of her mother-in-law, and only many years later, after she has given birth to children, especially to sons, and these are on their way to manhood, can she begin to assert herself as a mater familias in her own right.10 The achievement of a status of independence and self-determination comes as tardily to the son as to the daughter. He secures a wife when his father decides that he can spare the bride-price. After marriage he continues to live within the extended family of which his father is either the head or a member. Age is considered an asset in the Middle Eastern outlook, so that the older the son becomes, the smaller the number in the extended family of members older than he and the greater the number of those younger, the more he grows in esteem, the greater the weight his opinion carries, and the more easily can he live after his own inclinations. With regard to units larger than the extended family, the three main sectors of Middle Eastern society show also a number of basic correspondences. The Middle Eastern towns, however, have been centers of foreign (Western) cultural influences for several decades now, as a consequence of which much of the original Middle Eastern tradition of social organization has been obliterated in them (especially among the middle and upper classes) and can be found only in the villages and the nomadic camps. Nomadic camp and agricultural village, however, must not be conceived of as two opposite forms of local aggregates. The existence of a continuous scale of transitional forms between the two clearly shows that camp and village are merely the two extreme forms of a range of possible mixtures of elements taken from both. The presence of these 'mixed' forms of local aggregates is due not only to the continued processes of sedentarization; the reverse process is also known to have taken place repeatedly: settled villagers have taken up nomadism, either completely or partially. The cultivation of the soil and animal husbandry can, moreover, coexist and mutually complement each other. The nomadic wandering unit and the settled village often consist not of one, but of two or more kin-groups of extended families. The place of the individual within his society is determined first of all by his membership in an extended family, and secondly, by the membership of his extended family within such a kin-group. This means that in traditional 10

Patai, R., "Relationship Patterns among the Arabs", Middle Eastern Affairs, II (May 1951).

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Middle Eastern society participation in larger social groups is a family, and not an individual, affair. Participation in such larger groups can never cut across family ties. On the contrary, the fact that the family belongs to a larger social group only strengthens the family unity, for the stronger the family as a whole the greater its weight within the larger group. The largest traditional social grouping to be found all over the Middle East is a loose, informal twofold faction which at the same time is powerful in the hold it exercises over the population, whether nomadic or sedentary. This social grouping resembles in several respects the kind which is usually referred to by the terms 'moiety' or 'dual organization'. In some parts of the Middle East (e.g., in Arabia and the Levant coast) entire tribes and villages belong to one or the other of these dual factions, which go by such name-pairs as Qahtan and Adnan, Yafa' and Hamdan, Hinawi and Ghafari, Qais and Yaman. Whether the villages as a whole, or only one half of each of them (called sof among the Kabyles in Algeria) belong to a moiety, there is usually much competition, rivalry, and occasionally even fighting between the two factions. In several cases modern political initiative has made use of the existing dual organization with the result that the moieties today often have political significance, though differences in descent and custom are by no means forgotten. With regard to social control, distinction must be made between the local and the higher level. On the local level the social control of the typical and traditional Middle Eastern village resembled until recently (that is, until approximately the disintegration of the Ottoman Empire) that of the nomadic tribe to a considerable degree. It was the same kind of semi-autocratic and semi-democratic, highly variable and informal social control which is characteristic of the nomadic tribe. The village headman (called mukhtar in Palestine and Syria, 'undah in Egypt, aga in Kurdistan, muhtar in Turkey, amin in North Africa) corresponds to the tribal chief, the shaykk; he is usually the head of the most influential family in the village. The office of headmanship is inherited, but also requires the approval of the elders of the village, and more recently also appointment by the central government. The elders make up the informally constituted village council (majlis in the east Jumma' in North Africa). The authority of the tribal shaykh rests not on force - which as a rule does not stand at his disposal - but on the esteem, renown, and prestige he enjoys. The same is true to a more limited extent of the village headman, though for a number of reasons the latter usually wields more influence over his council, and his power over the simple villagers is also correspondingly greater. In addition to the council, the important traditional village institutions are the mosque, the kuttab (Qur'an school), the guesthouse, the communal threshing floor, and the well.

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The socio-economic conditions characteristic of the Middle Eastern village can be summed up in a few lines. Most of the cultivators are subsistence farmers living on their produce, with a predominantly cereal diet which, though probably just sufficient in caloric value, is lacking in protein and protective foods. As a consequence of this, as well as of the generally low standards of hygiene, the incidence of disease is high, in some areas appallingly so. Adequate water supplies are rare; the perennial irrigation method practiced in the riverain tracts and the presence of stagnant water elsewhere make malaria the most prevalent single disease in many regions. The vast majority of the cultivators are either dwarfholders, or share-cropper tenants, or landless laborers. A small number of wealthy, and often extremely rich, landowner families concentrate in their hands a substantial proportion of the cultivated land. Lands owned by smallholders in villages were until recently often held under the ancient system of communal ownership.11 On the higher level, with regard to governmental and political forms, it will be found that the tendency now prevails in most Middle Eastern states to follow Western patterns of government - in line with the readiness of the urban upper class to adopt Western techniques. Thus state forms, such as republics and constitutional kingdoms, can be found, with houses of representatives and ministers of state. However, even where these innovations have been introduced, they are rarely more than new forms which are still filled to a large extent with old contents. Government, as known to the traditional Middle East, is the feudal and autocratic rule of the few based on the power of armed forces. Under these circumstances dynastic constancy is rare; the throne or the supreme power is more seized than inherited. While on the local level (in tribes and villages) the rule of persons other than of the blood would be unimaginable, on the highest level foreigners can succeed in attaining positions of sovereignty. The relationship of urban centers to rural areas in the Middle East today is reminiscent of that of town to country in medieval Europe. The Middle Eastern towns are the undisputed economic, industrial, manufacturing, trading, commercial, financial, administrative, political, judicial, educational, literary, journalistic, recreational, artistic, intellectual, medical, and religious centers of their respective hinterlands. Externally the suq, or bazaar, is undoubtedly the most characteristic as well as the most fascinating part of the town, with its narrow streets covered with vaulted arches or roofs or with matting or awning, and with each trade occupying a separate street. The suq is the most easily tangible 11 Patai, R., "Musha'a Tenure and Cooperation in Palestine", American Anthropologist, LI (1949); Fisher, op, cit., pp. 180-181.

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expression of the existence and the activities of the craft guilds: tailors, outfitters, slipper and sandal-makers, saddlers, embroiderers, goldsmiths, etc. Each of these guilds has its head, its provost, its council, its grades of apprentices, journeymen and masters, its constitution, rules, and other organizational trappings. In most cases artisanship, and with it membership in a guild, is hereditary.12 The presence of social classes is characteristic of Middle Eastern towns only, not of villages and nomadic tribes. The urban class structure shows a great vertical nobility. By far the numerical majority of the townspeople belong to the lower class, comprising such occupations as small artisans and shopkeepers, itinerant vendors, unskilled workers, porters, people employed in services, fishermen (in coastal towns), loafers, beggars, etc. The slim but growing middle class is made up of master craftsmen, merchants, teachers, and other professionals who do not belong to the 'great' families, lower officials, small house-owners, and other people of moderate means. The very thin but extremely powerful upper class consists in each country of a few 'great' families whose members sometimes referred to as 'notables' - occupy key positions in many fields and are the mainstay of the feudal oligarchy. They are as a rule the leaders of society, the owners of economic, financial, and industrial enterprises, and the top figures in political life (with political parties organized on the basis of family affiliations, or superimposed on moieties, or utilizing religious orders). In most cases the initial wealth of such families is due to the concentration in their hands of landed property. Westernization, which is centered in the towns, is most advanced among the upper class, less so among the middle class, and has scarcely made a dent on the lower class.13 Nationalism, which is a modern urban phenomenon in the Middle East, is the joint result of two trends. One of these, xenophobia, meaning in a general sense the hatred of non-Muslims and in a more particular sense also of Muslims not belonging to the locally prevalent sect, has been a traditional attitude in the Middle East well known for several centuries. Upon this indigenous outgrowth was superimposed in the course of the last few decades the Western-type nationalism which is probably the only Western concept to impress itself deeply on the Middle Eastern mind. While in general Westernization means almost exclusively the adoption of Western material equipment and techniques only, exception was made in the case of nationalism which happened to fit into a pre-existing scheme of ideas. Westernization thus somewhat paradoxically 12

Maunier, R., The Sociology of Colonies, 2 vols. (London, 1949), vol. 2, 613-635. No allowance could be made in the above description for local variations, of which there are many. , 18

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means on the one hand the use of Western techniques and the copying of Western ways, but on the other hand an accompanying upsurge of nationalism and an intensification of the traditional hatred of foreigners. The towns are the centers of Westernization not merely because in them live the few wealthy families who are economically in a position to emulate the external trappings of Western civilization. Western influences are diffused from the town over the surrounding countryside as a consequence of the not infrequent visits paid to its bazaars, cafes, banks, stores, cinemas, law courts, and other offices by both villagers and tribesmen. Interaction, manifested mainly in commercial contacts between nomads and agriculturists, is an important characteristic of Middle Eastern social life everywhere, and the locale of a major part of this interaction is the town. The commercial contact taking place in the towns actually is threefold: the town sells its products of domestic industry; the village its agricultural products; and the nomadic tribe its animals, hides, wool, rugs, clarified butter (samn) and the like; and each buys from the other two what it needs. The town, of course, profits in addition from its role of the middleman, buying from the villager and selling to the tribesman, and vice versa. Foreign trade, exports and imports, which often are of considerable dimensions, are also concentrated in the towns. As to literacy, Middle Eastern society occupies a peculiar position. Located between Europe with its high rates of literacy and Negro Africa with its nonliterate cultures, the Middle East is the home of the oldest literate cultures and has in the past produced some of the greatest masterpieces of world literature. Yet it is characterized today, as it has been throughout its 6,000-year-old history, by extremely high rates of illiteracy. Even in the towns the illiteracy rates reach 80 percent; in the villages they climb up to over 90 percent; while among the nomadic tribes they are practically 100 percent. In recent years slow changes have set in in certain areas with the opening of elementary schools and the introduction of compulsory education. However, the over-all picture is still that of very high rates of illiteracy - higher among women than among men, among Muslims than among non-Muslims (Christians and Jews), among nomads than among settled people, among villagers than in the urban population. The culture of the Middle East can, therefore, be designated as an illiterate culture. Middle Eastern illiterate culture shares with other nonliterate cultures of the Old World the possession of a rich storehouse of oral literature, consisting of folk stories and legends, poetry and songs, riddles, sayings, and proverbs, and is residual heir to the age-old and famed 'Wisdom of the East'. As to the knowledge of the contemporary world, the grapevine of the bazaars, cafes, markets, village wells and threshing floors, council

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chambers or tents and caravanserais again and again surprises the Western observer with its rapidity, efficiency, and penetration. Poetry is so much a part of everyday living that the ambulant vendors in the streets of Oriental towns praise their wares in rhymed ditties recited to special tones or melodies. School children in the old-fashioned Qur'an schools (e.g. in Iran) compete with one another in composing poems by way of a pastime, and in many an Arab land versification is indulged in by people in all walks of life, rich and poor, literate and illiterate. Inseparable from poetry is music, which is perhaps the most individualistic of arts in the Middle East. The musical performer is usually also his own composer, and even when playing a well-known tune he will inevitably introduce variations of his own. Moreover, the Middle Eastern musician, as a rule, also builds his own musical instrument; his musical training as an apprentice to a master begins by learning how to make for himself an instrument of his own.14 The favorite musical instruments are the one-stringed fiddle, the lute, the zither, and the drum, of which many different variants exist. In the shadow-theatre, a favorite though at present rapidly declining pastime, the master of the theatre makes his own figures, writes his own plays, directs the performance, and plays the principal roles.15 Similarly the storytellers, whose high season occurs during the festive nights of the fastmonth of Ramadhan, though bound by certain traditional lines, nevertheless combine the arts of the novelist, the poet, and the actor, and often those of the composer and instrumental performer as well. Tradition determines also in the fields of the visual arts the frame which here, too, can be filled in varying ways in accordance with the talents, inclinations, and tastes of the individual artist or artisan. The great representative art of the ancient Middle East has been suppressed by Islam everywhere except in Iran. Elsewhere decorative arts and architecture provide the typical artistic outlet. What is, however, more significant for the cultural picture as a whole is the fact that in traditional Middle Eastern culture all types of everyday work are permeated with esthetic considerations. The beauty of objects everywhere intrudes upon, or complements, their practicality. Art is called in to embellish everything. The richer a man, the more time he can spend at the practice and enjoyment of art, but the poor as well, the great masses of the simple people, live a life in which esthetics play a considerable role. No definite dividing line can be drawn between arts and crafts in Middle Eastern culture. All articles of clothing as well as other products of artcrafts are closely dependent upon custom fixed by age-old tradition 14 15

Gerson-Kiwi, E., "The Musicians of the Orient", Edoth, I (1946), pp. 227-233. Landau, J. M. "Shadow Plays in the Near East", Edoth, III (1947), pp. xxiii-xliv.

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which allows the individual talent, taste, and inventiveness expression only in relatively minor variations. At the same time, the execution of a piece of work, whether it is a shoe, a chair, a waterpipe, a brass tray, a rug, a lamp, a camel-litter, a basket, or an earthenware jug, from its inception to its completion, gives the artisan a deep sense of satisfaction and a keen interest in his work. Most of the artisans are actually artists whose esthetic judgment plays an important role in their work. Though officially the vast majority of the Middle Eastern peoples (c. 90 percent) belong to one or another sect of Islam, actually their religious life contains many elements which go back to pre-Islamic, and even pre-Christian and pre-Jewish days. The belief in and the propitiation of spirits, ghosts, and demons of many different kinds and descriptions; divination and the interpretation of dreams and omens; the evil eye, charms, and amulets; vows and sacrifices - these are in the main the more ancient elements of belief and ritual with often only a thinly spread varnish of Islamic doctrine and practice superimposed over them. This is characteristic of both nomads and sedentary peoples, though the latter, generally, are more inclined to venerate saints at annual pilgrimages to their tombs and to observe the Five Pillars of the Faith, notoriously and habitually neglected by the nomads. The absence of ancestor worship from this quasi-animistic religious complex is remarkable. It is a sign of the complexity of Middle Eastern religious culture that side by side with the manifestations of the persistence of such an early type of religion, one finds such developments as theological schools and colleges and religious doctrines spiritually and ethically matching those of Judaism and Western Christianity. Significant in this connection are the religious orders and brotherhoods whose members dedicate themselves to the service of God by voluntarily abnegating worldly goods to varying degrees, and by following special 'paths' and rituals of their own often for the purpose of inducing ecstasy. These confraternities, the most important of which are those of the Wahhabi in Saudi Arabia and the Sanusi of Cyrenaica, often became very soon after their initial successes strongly political and practical in character. More significant, however, than the variants of religious content is the basically religious general attitude of the Middle Eastern peoples. The totality of life is permeated with religion which holds supreme sway over the great majority of the population, and especially over the nomadic camp and the agricultural village which are the unadulterated strongholds of Middle Eastern religious traditionalism. Religion is the fundamental motivating force in most phases and aspects of culture and has its say in practically every act and moment in life. The observance of the traditional forms and rites - whether of the 'official' or of the 'popular' kind - is an integral part of everyday life. Religion not expressed in formal observance

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is unthinkable. Again, morality always appears in the guise of religion and is merely one of the aspects of religion; a moral law dissociated from religion cannot even be conceived of by people steeped in Middle Eastern culture. A close connection exists between religion and Middle Eastern art, the very scope of which is closely circumscribed by religion, to the extent of the exclusion of certain fields and the concentration on others. Decorative art and architecture, in which the Middle Eastern artistic genius most fully expresses itself, are most closely associated with religion. But religion claims its due even in the secular use of art, as exemplified by the ever recurring utilization of the name of Allah and of Qur'anic passages as decorative inscription-garlands on every conceivable object which merits artistic embellishment, such as trays, lamps, daggers, saucers, and the like, made of such divers materials as glass, clay, china, wood, and various precious and common metals. All custom and tradition is basically religious; for whatever is old and customary and traditional is hallowed by religion, which itself is mainly tradition and custom and only to a small extent doctrine and law. Thus the entire field of custom - wide and infinitely ramified in its permeation of everyday life - cannot be divorced from religion either in theory or in practice. Whatever man does, he must always conform to custom, tradition, and religion. These three, then, religion, tradition, and custom, form an inseparable three-in-one constellation which rules the skies of Middle Eastern life. Another characteristic trait of religion in the Middle East is its distinctly dual aspect of materialism on the one hand and spiritualism on the other. The two neatly balanced main concerns in Middle Eastern religion are physical well-being in this world and spiritual welfare after the death of the body. God is expected to dispense material blessings to His people in this life, and to compensate the miserable but deserving with His blessings in afterlife. Hence the accent on righteousness, on the purity of the soul, regarded as the only real achievement of man, in contradistinction to all earthly wealth which is viewed as empty vanity. The supreme good man can acquire for himself is of a moral quality, but moralism always includes ritualism. For the great masses of the poor, among whom many live in poverty quite unknown in the West of today, religion with its moralistic and spiritualistic tenets and with its great promise of future reward is an asset the psychological value of which cannot be overestimated. Due to the sway religion holds over performance and the grooves it cuts into thinking and feeling, life with its vicissitudes is appraised from a wider angle, from a long-range perspective as it were, in which sojourn on this earth with all its possible gains and losses appears as a mere lower and lesser half of a great totality of existence, the essentials and ultimates

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of which lie in the Beyond. Spiritual outlook thus moves along a higher plane, beyond the reaches of discomfort, pain, anguish, and privation. Hence that composure, that peace of mind preserved even in the face of great adversity which ever and again gives rise to wonderment in the Western observer. The other side of the picture is that religious systems which can give THIS to their followers almost inevitably exercise a powerful hold on them which also creates intolerance, fanaticism, and cleavage along narrow sectarian lines. To sum up, the following main cultural complexes can be discerned as characteristic of traditional Middle Eastern culture: (1) The presence in all parts of the area of pastoral nomadic and seminomadic, as well as agricultural settled population elements. (2) Great poverty, high incidence of disease, high birthrate and low life expectancy. (3) Patrilineal, patrilocal, patriarchal, endogamous, and extended family; double standards of sex mores; sporadic veiling of women; subordination of the individual to his family and his participation in larger social groupings on a family basis. (4) Larger social units based on kinship lines; tribal organization among nomads and seminomads; kin-groups among settled villagers; triple-class structure in towns; indication of a 'dual organization'. (5) No occupational specialization among the nomads and seminomads; very small numbers of specialists among the villagers; full occupational specialization in towns and cities; economic interdependence of nomads and settled people, with contact centered on regional towns. (6) Leadership (religious, educational, economic, artistic, literary, etc.) concentrated in the urban middle and upper classes; Westernization centered on towns, strongest in upper class. (7) Social control and political organization based on family ties; headmen and councils in the villages and camps; countrywide rule of thin upper urban class on traditional feudalistic lines. (8) Intensive permeation of everyday life by the esthetic element; fields and over-all forms of artistic expression determined by religious tradition. (9) Great general preoccupation with folklore, folk literature, folk poetry, proverbs, riddles. (10) Great social and religious role of music, singing, and dancing, which also serve as favorite outlet for individual emotions. Traditional wind, string, and percussion instruments. (11) In the graphic and plastic field concentration on decorative arts, geometric, scriptural, and floral decorations; fine architecture. (12) Highly developed art-crafts: carpetmaking, metal work, jewelry, basketry, pottery, weaving, inlay work, embroidery. (13) Absence of formal institutionalized education in nomadic camp. In the village religious (Qur'an) schools, attended briefly by boys only. In town high educational opportunities for privileged few. (14) Allpervasive religiosity, including strong elements of ritual and morality. A wide range of variations as to concrete content, though 'officially' all

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monotheistic religions with an intense trust in God and His 'will', coupled with a fear of spirits and the evil eye. No ancestor worship. (15) A broader outlook on human existence, including the firm belief in reward and punishment in an afterlife and accompanied by a detachment from material benefits and an often astounding indifference in face of vicissitudes.

F. S. Vidal

DATE CULTURE IN THE OASIS OF AL-HASA*

In "Date Culture in the Oasis of al-Hasa" by F. S. Vidal, we turn to an analysis of a microcosm of one subgroup of Arab Society in contrast to the macrocosmic approach of Professor PataVs article. In popular imagination, the term 'oasis' has come to mean a cluster of palm trees near a waterhole with perhaps a couple of tents, all encircled by sandy desert. Such waterhole oases do exist in great numbers, but nothing could be further from this popular concept than the region of al-Hasa in eastern Saudi Arabia. Indeed, if one considers its sheer size, its large water resources, its date production, and its surprisingly dense population, one wonders whether al-Hasa should properly be called an oasis at all.1 It is, however, "an area of vegetation surrounded by desert", and thus qualifies as an oasis by dictionary definition. Al-Hasa is an L-shaped area, extending approximately from 25°21' to 25°37' Lat. N. and from 49°33' to 49°46' Long. E. It encloses some 70 square miles of garden area with perhaps 30,000 acres under continuous cultivation, some 25,000 to 27,000 acres being in date palms. The pop• The Middle East Journal, Vol. 8, No. 4 (Autumn 1954), p. 417. F. S. Vidal is an anthropologist with the Arbian Research Division of the Arabian American Oil Company. The material for this article was gathered while the author was field supervisor of the Malaria Control Program in al-Hasa carried out in 1951 by the Saudi Arab Government with technical assistance by the Oil Company. 1 This problem of terminology does not appear in Arabia. The word wahah, occasionally heard in Egypt and infrequently seen in the Arabic press, is not used in Saudi Arabia. Saudis refer to different oases by their individual names (al-Hasa, al-Qwtif, etc.) but do not employ a generic term to embrace them all.

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ulation totals approximately 160,000 people, distributed among two towns (Hofuf with 60,000, and al-Mubarraz with 28,000) and 52 smaller settlements, ranging from larger villages (2,500 inhabitants) to small hamlets (100 or less).2 The larger villages are normally built near the edges of the cultivated area, both in order to avoid using up planting soil while still being close to the gardens, and to gain better visibility in case of enemy attack. Most of these larger villages, which consist in the main of masonry buildings, have a substantial defensive wall built of limestone rubble and faced with mud or gypsum cement. Occasionally irrigation ditches have been carried along the outside of the walls to provide an additional obstacle. The small villages and hamlets are generally inside the palm growing area; they are unwalled, and have a large number of dwellings made of wood and palm fronds. During the last generation, after the consolidation of the Saudi dynasty had brought internal peace and security to the kingdom, the number of these hamlets, as well as that of isolated garden residences owned by the wealthy people of the region, has increased considerably. Correspondingly, the fortifications for defense, watchtowers, village walls, and such like are now no longer needed and have been allowed to decay. The large population of al-Hasa supports itself by a variety of economic pursuits. Hofuf, 3 the capital of the oasis, has until recently been also the capital of the whole of eastern Arabia4 and consequently has had a good number of people working for government agencies, police, army, and administration. Some public servants, although not so many, are also found in al-Mubarraz. More numerous than the civil servants are the members of the arts, crafts, and professions. In this respect, metalworking (particularly the manufacture of the well-known, large, beak-spouted coffeepots) and textile manufacture are exceptionally noteworthy. While many of the crafts have declined in importance and in the quality of their workmanship, especially in those cases where the availability of foreign exchanges has per2

The population in 1967 had increased to 200,000, which includes 54 smaller settlements plus the large towns. Walls and moats have generally been leveled. 3 More properly al-Hufuf or al-Hufhuf; the spelling Hofuf has long been established in English usage. 4 The entire region has been called by foreigners 'Hasa Province', or 'al-Hasa Province'. This is a misleading term, since the people of the area use the name to refer to the oasis alone. The use of 'Hasa Province' probably started during the Turkish administration, when the whole area was under the jurisdiction of a Mutasarrif Pasha who made his headquarters in al-Hasa. In the statement on the administrative reorganization of this part of Arabia issued on February 8, 1953, by H.R.H. Crown Prince Su'ud, present King of Saudi Arabia, the term 'Eastern Province' is used. It is to be hoped that this recently introduced and more accurate term will receive greater acceptance in the future. The capital of the province was moved from Hofuf to Dammam on the Persian Gulf in the spring of 1953.

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mitted increased imports, the contrary obtains in the case of textiles. The shift to a cash economy and the raised standard of living have apparently made increased demands on the production of the al-Hasa bisht, the cloak of wool and camel hair which has long and justly been famous in the Persian Gulf region, and even beyond. The circumstance that the Royal Family of Saudi Arabia, as well as other prominent families in the kingdom, favors al-Hasa textiles, has further enhanced the prestige of the product, with the consequence that other sections of the population, trying to follow the example of their social and political leaders, have stepped up their demands for al-Hasa cloaks. The quality of the weave, as well as the beauty of the gold embroidery, has steadily improved. In this connection it should be stated that though the looms of the al-Hasa weavers (horizontal, frameless, two-bar looms with as many as eight treadles and six shuttles) are hand operated, they are far from being primitive. The machine is extremely efficient and the quality of the produce shows the consummate skill of the workmen. Culturally and economically more important than the craftsmen are the merchants. Trade in the oasis comprises a multitude of activities: from the big international operations of such a firm as the famous al-Qusaibi family, to the date-marketing operations of wholesalers dealing with Bedouins, and the small cash-and-carry detail deals of young men established by their families in a small general store in a corner of the market, to learn the profession empirically. Al-Hasa has been an ideal place for the development of commerce. Its plentiful supply of water is able to support a large population and offers the opportunity for large-scale agriculture, the produce of which could be sold to the Bedouins of the region or exchanged for the meat, skins, mohair and wool that the Bedouins produced. At the same time, the proximity of the oasis to the Persian Gulf and the easy route to the sea made alHasa become central Arabia's door to the world, much more so than the coastal oases which could not support as large a population. Hofuf became the break-of-bulk center for imported merchandise in this part of the peninsula. The majority of the people of al-Hasa, however, support themselves by agriculture. Their farming complex revolves around a nucleus composed of water from artesian springs, date palms, donkeys, and alfalfa. The artesian springs, of which there are probably more than 50 in the oasis with a combined waterflow well in excess of 150,000 gallons per minute (in an area that probably has not more than 3 inches yearly precipitation), provide the basis for farming. The date palm, this most practical and economical of oasis plants, gives the Hasawis a cash crop, a basis for barter, and material for construction, for basketry, and a host of other manufactured products as well as other uses; the space between the palms

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grows alfalfa, which can be used as fodder for the donkeys, which in turn supply the needed transportation, some fertilizer, and the power for lifting water when needed. Although a variety of agricultural produce is grown in the oasis, the backbone of al-Hasa farming is the date palm. The date gardens and the artesian springs not only provide a livelihood in terms of earning power by fulfilling the functions outlined above; they are a blending factor that brings into relationship most elements in the Hasawis' life. Gardens and springs are centers around which one can meet one's equals to exchange news, gossip, transact business, do the laundry, and discuss family matters; they produce a reward in terms of esthetic gratification and relaxation from the trying climate, and are a prestige-giving item to strive and work for. The Hasawis have developed an extreme cultural specialization as well as a complex vocabulary around their system of date cultivation,5 much as has the Bedouin around his camel nomadism. Probably a total of more than 2 million palm trees grow in al-Hasa, representing a majority of the 40 varieties of dates said to be found in the Persian Gulf area. By and large, a date garden grows only two or three varieties, although a few clusters of palms growing other kinds can be seen in most large date groves. The names of the varieties encountered in al-Hasa are as follows (spellings often doubtful): Barihi Bukayyirah Da'laj Ghurr Hatimi Hilali Hulayyili Huraizi Hushayyishi Jubaili