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Judith Miller is a senior writer at The New York Times and the author of three books, including God Has Ninety-Nine Names: Reporting from a Militant Middle East (Simon & Schuster), from which this excerpt is drawn. Copyright c 1996. Reprinted by permission.

After the 1991 Gulf war divided the Middle East, it was widely and foolishly predicted that America would introduce a new world order in the region based on democracy, capitalism, and human rights. But contemporary radical Islamic movements — committed to establishing Islamic states that in theory will combine economic development with Islamic justice — have endured and in some countries have become vastly more influential and threatening to the prevailing order. Even in countries where there is little prospect that Islamic forces will rule, Islam now provides the vocabulary of everyday life, reshaping the language of politics, fundamental aspects of national culture, and long-standing traditions. In most Arab states, even secular leaders have increasingly relied on Islam to shore up their rule. Thus, the power struggles are no longer between the defenders of the “secular” order and advocates of religious rule but, rather, over who will rule in the name of Islam.


When I returned to the United States from the Middle East in late 1995, I mentioned to several Iranian colleagues the riveting debates about “Islamic government” I had witnessed in Iran. In most of the Middle East, there were no real politics in the Western sense. Only in Israel, Lebanon, and to some extent Jordan did political parties compete for influence in a parliament with real power as they did in Iran. In Sunni Arab states, discussions about Islamic rule were often hypothetical, perhaps because most of the talk was politically irrelevant. Except for Sudan, militant Islamists rule no country in the Arab Middle East. But Iranian political debate resonated with bold questions about whether the Islamic Republic was truly “Islamic” or whether it had veered from the Qur’an’s “straight path.” Could Iran’s Islamic system be reformed from within, and if so, how?

Such questioning seemed to me desperately serious, for efforts to make the ostensibly Islamic system function effectively were now a matter of political survival for the ruling clerics. Though the regime seemed entrenched, the prospect that the clerics might lose legitimacy or have to slaughter thousands more Iranians to retain power and — of far greater concern to most of the clergy — that Iran’s experiment might delegitimize Islam as a framework for governing and undermine the credibility of Islam itself among young adherents has understandably generated enormous ferment.

Yes, agreed Reza Afshari, an Iranian exile who teaches history and human rights in New York. Iranian life has remained vibrant in many respects. But, he told me, had I forgotten that the “lively debate” was made possible only by the “deadly silence” that Islamists had imposed on all non-Islamists, not only secular Iranians but even Islamic groups that did not share the regime’s particular Islamic vision?1 Did I not see that the ruling clerics — by excluding from political life everyone who rejects their brand of Islam, by harassing, arresting, torturing, and executing political dissidents for such preposterous but judicially sanctioned crimes as “apostasy,” “warring against God,” and “corruption on earth,” and by employing improvised, ostensibly Islamic precepts to justify continuing repression and monopoly of power — had failed to institutionalize the revolution’s promises in a just or rational way and thus had betrayed the revolution itself?

Of course, now that all serious rivals to clerical rule had been eliminated, the regime could tolerate the publication of articles on Marx and Foucault as well as disagreements in the majlis (parliament), Friday sermons, and magazines and newspapers. That many American scholars apologized for the regime by calling debate among the Islamically converted “political pluralism” was an outrage, Afshari argued.

If Afshari’s critique was accurate — and human-rights groups supported his conclusions — it was unlikely that the clerics would relinquish power and return to Qum.

Yet Iranians, including many clerics, now knew from bitter experience that there was no “Islamic economics” or “Islamic sociology,” no “Islamic” way to build a car or stabilize a monetary system, no miraculous, peculiarly “Islamic” path to development as an alternative to the roads followed by the reviled West and East. A country as isolated as Iran, whose government supports Islamic upheaval abroad and repression at home, and often prevents its own citizens from traveling abroad, was probably incapable of nurturing the improvisational, opportunistic economic spirit required by a prosperous modern state. Iran’s fanatical image frightened away potential investors. How could the clerics hope to attract scarce capital in an ever more competitive world financial market when in addition to all the other hazards investors face, clerics have added their own “Islamic” disincentives?

Despite what Afshari told me, I found two kinds of progressive Islamic reformers in Iran: There are those who seek to make their system work by gradually opening it up — encouraging free assembly and debate, expanding political participation to include first Islamic dissidents and eventually non-Islamic parties, and slowly reducing the dominance of clerics. This did not seem to me impossible, since Iran’s system, thought sour and undemocratic, is constitutional and its mechanisms could, in principle, be used to check ruinous abuses of power and perhaps restructure government.2

A second group, however, wants to abandon theocracy altogether, though few express this goal openly. These Iranians, many of whom are less cynical, I believe, than Afshari suggests, question whether theocracy or any other form of militantly Islamic government is workable in a modern world. “How can a system that is God-given,” asks Javad Tabataba’i, an Iranian intellectual who still lives in Tehran, “whose basic framework, rules, and parameters cannot be questioned, challenged or be made subject to the will of the people, ever be rational?” Or, put another way, does such a system not invariably face the same problems encountered by any ideological system — that is, communism — when it attempts to deal with the requirements of a modern state?

How can a state compete in an increasingly ferocious global market if it excludes and discourages a large part of its population by adopting as its legal code the Shari`a (Islamic sacred law), which, in the version favored by many militants, denies women and non-Muslim minorities legal and constitutional equality with Muslim male citizens? How can it flourish if young Arab women are valued not for their business or intellectual abilities but for what militant Islamists consider their primary function, as the Hamas charter puts it, as “makers of men”?

And why should non-Muslims accept, unless they are forced to, second-class legal status or being forever barred by Qur’anic imperative from leadership? Frightened by Islamism’s growing appeal, thousands of Christians have been leaving the Arab Middle East. These “canaries in the mine,” as an American diplomat in Syria called them, are not only a source of Western culture and values; they also remind the majority that tolerance for those who are different is essential in a modern, civilized society. The Middle East itself will be poorer and less dynamic without them.


While I encountered many “Islams” on my journeys through the Middle East, I found almost as many reasons for Islamic revivalism. Modern Islamism is the product of many factors: the collapse within the region of Arab nationalism after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war and then of the Soviet Union and the Marxist dream in the late 1980s; a demographic explosion that has strained national resources; and the failure of most Middle Eastern governments to deliver on the ambitious promises they made after independence. The Islamic revival was, of course, also stimulated by Khomeini’s populist Islamic revolution in Iran.

My friend Mohammed Sid Ahmed, an independent-minded Egyptian secular writer, all too rare among today’s Egyptian intellectuals, also blames the new Islamism on the explosion of petrodollars in the early 1970s, which, in his words, “corrupted politically and intellectually an entire generation and produced, in reaction, a cynical, puritanical Islamic generation.” But Saudi Arabia and the Gulf states have reinforced the militant Islamic trend more directly. The United States and its Middle Eastern allies correctly blame Iran for funding extremist Islamic groups and Muslim terrorists throughout the world. But I have concluded that Saudi and Gulf support, though diffuse and often ostensibly donated to cultural and charitable Islamic causes, has been equally, if not more, consequential for Islamist groups. Sheikh `Umar `Abd ar-Rahman, after all, convicted in 1995 of conspiring to blow up New York buildings, bridges, and monuments, preached for several years not in Tehran but in Riyadh. And the bombing manual found in the apartment of a World Trade Center bomber was published by the World Assembly of Muslim Youth, a Saudi-funded organization, and was printed in Saudi Arabia.

For decades, Saudi Arabia has provided employment and refuge to many of the same militants who now praise assassinations of secular Arab intellectuals and encourage the terrorists attacks on civilians in and beyond the region. Since the Kuwait war, official Saudi assistance to Islamic militants who betrayed Riyadh by supporting Saddam Husayn — such as the Muslim Student Association, a U.S.-based Muslim Brotherhood organization3 — has sharply declined, but wealthy Saudis and businessmen in the Gulf, including members of the ruling families, still contribute to such groups with quiet, unofficial blessing, some out of fear and others out of sympathy for Islamist goals.4

The United States has also contributed to militant Islam. During the cold war, America and its allies mainly saw Islamic groups as insurance against communist encroachment. Arab nationalism, with its socialist ideology, terrified not only the conservative Arab monarchs but also the West. All were happy to encourage Islamic networks that might prove useful in dampening nationalist fervor. As we have seen, even Israel authorized the Islamic group that became Hamas as a counter to the nationalist PLO.

Starting in 1980, President Jimmy Carter began sending tens of millions of dollars a year to the mujahedin who were resisting Soviet forces in Afghanistan. By the late 1980s, combined American and Saudi aid to these Afghans came to about $1 billion a year, not counting some $5 billion in weapons sent to the holy warriors between 1986 and 1990 and at least $5.7 billion worth of arms sent to Kabul, a total greater than Iraq’s arms imports during the same period.5 Much of this support went to a faction favored by the Saudis — Hizb-i Islami, led by Gulbuddin Hekmatyar, the most radical of the original Afghan Islamists (who also sided with Saddam Husayn), who then shared these funds with many of the militants whom the United States and Arab countries now accuse of terrorism. Thus, American money helped train thousands of Arab militants in Pakistan who had nowhere to go and nothing to do once the jihad against Moscow was over. Among the Islamic heroes of this last battle of the cold war were some of the immigrants from six Arab countries who detonated the massive truck bomb at the World Trade Center in February 1993.

Western aid to the anti-Soviet jihad, moreover, did not make allies of the Middle East’s militant Muslims. Many of the young Arab Islamists who spread their Islamic slogans on the Internet were trained in the West and live in societies that have already been partially transformed by exposure to the West and the needs of modern technological society.


Though on my travels through the Middle East I witnessed the pervasive persistence of Islamic resurgence, I find it difficult to assess the depth of the trend from country to country and its likelihood of success. Consider the spread of hijab (head covering) among young women, which scholars often cite as quantifiable evidence of growing Islamic fervor. But is it? In fact, I found that Muslim women fancy this style for many reasons, not all of them political. Some women told me they cannot afford weekly trips to the hairdresser or the expensive cosmetics that middle-class Arab women take for granted. In Algeria’s Casbah, where families sleep in shifts and share a single bathroom not just with male members of their own families but also with male neighbors and even strangers, hijab provides psychological as well as physical protection. The crowded and uncomfortable Middle Eastern cities where I have lived are filled with idle, frustrated young men who have poured into the capitals looking for work. For women in such dense surroundings, hijab creates physical and psychological borders that sexually active young men dare not violate. Hijab says: This is a devout woman. Leave her alone.

For many poorer women in Iran, where traditional Islamic culture and mores had for generations restricted women to their households, the chador meant mobility and employment for thousands of women. That hijab is now also a symbol of state coercion and male oppression, especially for young Iranian women, does not alter the fact that for countless women in the Middle East, hijab confers mobility, dignity, and safety.

For many middle-class women, hijab is now chic as well as a form of generational rebellion. Many young women in hijab, after all, are the granddaughters of women who defied their own political and social convention by throwing off the veil in the 1920s and 1930s, rejecting not only Western colonial rule but also male domination. The brisk business in expensive silk and hand-embroidered hijab — the high-end Islamic couture in the boutiques of Egypt’s Heliopolis, Jordan’s Shmaisani, and other wealthy Middle Eastern suburbs — suggests that hijab can be as much a matter of fashion as of politics. In other respects, too, the “Islamist” response I saw seems to me a pragmatic response to the problems of modernity — matters of convenience and affordability rather than ideology.

Just as I found no single Islam, I found no Islamic Comintern, or “Khomeintern,” no vast conspiracy led by Iran and Sudan, no Islamic International issuing orders, guidance, and money to Islamists throughout the Middle East. But I did find a growing interaction — exchanges of ideas, technological expertise, experience, and cooperation — particularly among militants in the Islamic diaspora, especially in the Western democracies, where Islamist critics of the West can meet, talk, and work openly without being killed, imprisoned, or spied upon. Hasan at-Turabi’s Popular Islamic and Arab Congress in Khartoum in 1991 and a less publicized Nationalist-Islamist Congress in Beirut in October 1994 brought together scores of mostly male Islamist and Arab nationalist leaders in an effort to confront the West, reject peace with Israel, and thwart Arab initiatives to create a new Middle Eastern common market that would include Jews and other non-Arab investors, the idea advocated by Israel’s Shimon Peres, among others.

But such efforts have so far disappointed Islamists. While Iran, for example, spent an estimated $1 billion in the past decade to create militant Hizbullah, it has not succeeded in making Lebanon an Islamic state. And Hizbullah continues to face competition from other Shiite groups in its effort to mobilize and lead the country’s dynamic Shi`i community.

Such interaction among Islamists nevertheless has consequences, even if subtle, belated, or difficult to trace. The late Sheikh Muhammad al-Ghazali, an influential Egyptian Islamic theoretician and onetime Muslim Brother, has for years traveled through Arab lands, proselytizing for his intolerant version of Islam — from Gaza before the Israeli occupation, where he helped establish one of the Brotherhoods’ first branches, to Algeria, where before his departure in 1989, he helped inspire and influence a vast young audience of educated Islamists who later became leaders of that unhappy country’s failed Islamic Salvation Front (FIS). Such men have helped shape Islamist views about what works — and what does not — in their effort to overthrow their governments and replace them with an “Islamic” order.

Gilles Kepel, the French scholar and expert on Egyptian Islamism, argues that it is no accident that Islamic Jihad’s campaign against tourists in Egypt began in October 1992, only a few months after Algeria’s government refused to accept the Islamic Salvation Front’s election victory and decided instead to crush the Islamists. Perhaps Egypt’s Islamists would have attacked foreign tourists even if Algeria’s Islamists had been allowed to govern. But my interviews suggest that Islamist leaders in several Middle Eastern countries learned from the Algerian experience not to count on elections and other nonviolent roads to power, just as many also learned from Islamists’ repression in Syria and Egypt that a violent challenge to authority would be met with even greater violence.

Islamists, like most politicians, have made terrible tactical mistakes — for example, the campaign in Egypt against tourism, on which the livelihoods of so many Egyptians depend, or the murder of unveiled women and secular intellectuals in Algeria, which alienated the very Algerians whose support the Islamists needed in their struggle for power. But militant Islamists can also be extremely practical. Despite fiery rhetoric about the evils of the West, the impossibility of compromise on issues of Qur’anic doctrine, the religious “impermissibility” of a Jewish state in Dar al-Islam (territory ruled by Muslims), they have clearly shown that they can adapt to their political environments in order to survive.

Lebanon’s Hizbullah has evolved from a group of holy warriors who fight Israel into a political party, however unorthodox, that still fights Israel but which now also controls the largest bloc of seats in Lebanon’s parliament. While denouncing Christian dominance in Lebanon, Hizbullah works closely with some Maronite Christians to thwart growing Sunni Muslim influence. The men who once kidnapped and tortured Western hostages in the Bekaa Valley are now inviting Westerners to return to Baalbek as tourists. Iran’s fanatical clerics obtained weapons from the Satans, Big and Little, as did the Afghan resistance. To curry favor with France, Islamic Sudan betrayed “Carlos the Jackal,” a secular anti-Western terrorist who was lionized by many young Islamists. Islamist accommodation to political necessity is impressive.

As in all politics, moderate and radical are blurred and shifting categories. As we have seen, many an Islamic movement is simultaneously a political group, a militia, and an amalgam of terror cells. Yesterday’s terrorist can be today’s peacemaker, and vice versa. Such compromises and tactical shifts do not imply that militant Islamists no longer seek to destroy Israel, defy the West, and impose their interpretation of Islam on fellow Arabs or that the militants do not mean what they say. But such flexibility suggests that militant groups should be evaluated not only by their words but also by their deeds, and over time.

Despite efforts to avoid fitna, the self-defeating divisions that have long plagued the Muslim community, relations between Islamists and nationalists remain strained,6 and Islamic movements themselves are increasingly divided by personal rivalries, ideological differences, and disputes over money. Rather than merge into a single coherent stream, Islamists seem ever more susceptible to splits. Hamas resents Islamic Jihad almost as much as it does the PLO. The Syrian Muslim Brotherhood has never overcome the factionalism that gave Asad an opportunity to crush it. The repression in Algeria quickly shattered what was always a fragile, divided Islamic front. R. Hrair Dekmejian, an American political scientist, counts some 175 Islamist groups, 74 percent of them “militant” or “radical,” competing in the region.7 Another scholar finds 45 Islamist groups in Egypt alone.8


The current wave of Islamic militancy seems to me at least to have crested, though a victory in any single Arab state could change that. Most Middle Eastern states have found ways, often illegal and morally repugnant, to contain militant fervor. While some analysts portray Arab states as artificial, fragile creations — “sandcastles,” one writer calls them — modern Middle Eastern states have proved remarkably durable. Modern Arab regimes — with their armies, police, and intelligence forces — are ever more powerful, and they have mobilized to repress or co-opt militant Islamic challengers. The leaders know that once power is lost in such states, retrieving it is difficult.

After a two-year battle, Egypt seems to have crushed its Islamists — for now. By promoting a tamed, official “secular Islam” and through brutal repression — involving the killing of more than eight hundred militants since 1992 and the arrest and torture of thousands of innocent Egyptians — President Mubarak has restored order. Syria’s Asad, too, rules largely through the fear of civil strife within Syria’s heterogeneous population and the memory of the savage repression in Hama that few Syrians doubt would be repeated if necessary. Islamists and all other political challengers, not only in Syria but in Iraq and Libya, have been brutally repressed. In Algeria, over forty thousand people have died in civil strife, but the military government has prevailed so far. Even Saudi Arabia, which has traditionally shunned violent repression, has increasingly cracked down on its militant critics.

But such repression can probably not be sustained in the long term, especially not by governments that depend on the West — or crave its approval — or by any society with an emerging middle class that cares about its international reputation and demands greater political participation.

Jordan and Israel have been among the boldest in co-opting and marginalizing militant Muslims by offering them political rights and participation. But in neither state do militants stand much chance of ruling. In Israel, the overwhelming Jewish majority will not permit the country’s non-Jewish minority, almost a fifth of the population, to challenge Israel’s identity or threaten its existence. While King Husayn has relied on his own religious credentials to reinforce the legitimacy of his rule, his repeated repression of violent Islamists, and even of those who reject playing politics by his rules, has persuaded most Islamists that challenging this particular Hashemite is suicidal.

Analysts disagree vehemently about how governments should respond to militant Islam. The debate has become so polarized, so bitter, that some scholars have abandoned their traditional analytic detachment to attack the integrity of colleagues who disagree with them.9 So-called rejectionists argue that all militant Islamist groups should be repressed and denied political participation on the grounds that they are inherently anti-democratic as well as anti-Western.

Accommodationists, on the other hand, urge Washington to embrace most Islamists, since they represent genuine populist currents that favor social reform and greater economic equality. Though they may not be democrats, the argument goes, the militants could evolve into exponents of pluralism and tolerance. Other analysts want to cultivate Islamists primarily because they believe militant Islam will triumph in the Middle East. Thus, the West alienates such groups at its peril. Still others favor accommodation for an even more cynical reason: Empowering Islamic militants will encourage divisiveness in their ranks and enable ordinary citizens to see, as a Lebanese commentator observed, that “Islam is not the solution.”10 But such Islamic experiments, as Iran and Sudan have shown, may prove terribly expensive for the people of the region. Most failed regimes in the Middle East — secular and Islamic alike — prefer repression to resignation.


The U.S. government has adopted a flexible approach to militant Islam. Careful to stress America’s respect for Islam as a religion, the Clinton administration claims to oppose only those militant groups that endorse violence or seek elections only to impose an Islamic order through force — “one man, one vote, one time.” In theory, at least, the United States supports those who take “specific steps towards free elections, creating independent judiciaries, promoting the rule of law, reducing restrictions on the press, respecting the rights of minorities and guaranteeing individual rights.”11

But policy is one thing; national interests are another. In practice, Washington is likely to continue supporting Saudi Arabia, the major source of its oil, and Egypt, the first Arab state to make peace with Israel, no matter how repressive their governments become. Yet the vagueness of America’s approach toward militant Islam is, in my opinion, sensible. Evaluating Islamic militant groups one by one, given their diversity, also seems wise.

Equally sensible are efforts to encourage militant Islamists to swear allegiance to democratic rules of political participation. King Husayn’s insistence, for example, that political parties sign a national charter committing them to pluralism and respect for equal rights provides some assurance that Islamists will not be permitted to use elections only to disenfranchise the losers. Many opposition Islamist groups have not only provided efficient, low-cost services to Arabs ill served by their own governments; they have enriched political debate and encouraged the development of civil society, that is, groups and institutions that protect individuals against the awesome power of the state. Encouraging such groups toward a pluralistic politics is not without risk, but it seems more likely to work than relentless suppression.

Nevertheless, I have supported Egypt’s suppression of violent militant Islamists, but not the torture, emergency military trials, and other illegal means that have become routine features of the government’s anti-Islamist campaign. Egypt, given its religious antagonisms between Copts and Muslims, has a sensible ban on all religious parties. And while I share the skepticism of many Egyptian officials about the sincerity of the Muslim Brotherhood’s commitment to nonviolence and pluralism, I also believe that Mubarak, by arresting influential Brothers weeks before national elections and refusing to permit them to stand openly in elections, offers Islamists no incentive to renounce violence. Moreover, the government’s official Islam, as it crowds out secularism, creates an intellectual climate conducive to Islamism. Mubarak grows more pharaonic by the day and ever more threatened by the notion that Egyptians should one day be trusted to have a say in the choice of those who rule them. Reluctant to rationalize the economy or oppose corruption, the government continues to forgo legitimacy. It is now possible to imagine that an explosion of perhaps biblical proportions may one day shatter “eternal Egypt.”

As for Algeria, the government’s unwillingness to transfer power to the winners of its cynical national election was clearly unconstitutional and ultimately responsible for the continuing bloodshed. Yet military officials were prepared to sustain what they viewed as a fight to the death because they believed that their very lives, as well as Algeria itself, were at stake. My contacts with Algerian Islamists, the most ruthless of whom oppose pluralism, political tolerance, and equal rights, suggest that sooner or later secular Algerians would have revolted, in turn, against attempts to impose Islam on them. While I can hardly endorse the government’s refusal to abide by the election results, I was relieved that it had done so. Apparently the majority of Algerians now agree, for despite the Islamists’ demand that patriots and believers boycott the national elections in November 1995, some 75 percent of Algerians voted and overwhelmingly endorsed General Zeroual as their president.


I remain as wary of militant Islamist groups as I am of all groups that claim a monopoly on virtue or truth. A generation ago, when Arab nationalism was the political fashion, Arabs were persuaded, or forced, to sacrifice individual rights for the glory of the “Arab nation.” Nasser’s “social democracy” argued that bread was more important than freedom. Today Egypt lacks enough of either. The current version of this fantasy is that individuals should now serve Islam and that in an Islamic democracy, justice and authenticity are more important that freedom.

As militants have told me in country after country, Islamic justice arises not from democracy, which one Hamas leader recently described as nothing but “an original form of dictatorship.”12 Nor does it arise from an impartial rule of law, free elections, or limited government power but from the rule of a benevolent caliph, or imam, who, with the advice of a majlis or parliament, will enact Shari`a in the name of Islamic rule. As for “authenticity,” they rarely acknowledge that by itself this is a dubious goal.13 Foot binding in China was once authentic. So was slavery in much of the Islamic world and my own. As each of my chapters confirms,The persistence of tyrannical government in much of the Middle East is also authentic. The Islamist demand for authenticity is particularly ironic when the “authentic” Islamic culture that militants advocate often has little genuine basis in their respective societies.

Yet with grossly inadequate jobs, social services, and housing in much of the region, and autocratic governments that refuse to relinquish or share power, the appeal of militant Islam seems likely in the long run to grow. Neither the example of Sudan nor of revolutionary Iran nor even of fragmented Afghanistan has deterred young Islamists from trying to impose yet another grandiose new order on their countries.

I cannot help but conclude that Islamic militancy is not the solution Muslims have been seeking. How sad it would be if, after so much suffering, the Arabs embraced yet another ideology that seems only likely to compound the obstacles to regaining the prosperity, dynamism, tolerance, and imagination that once characterized their civilization.

1 Reza Afshari, “An Essay on Scholarship, Human Rights, and State Legitimacy: The Case of the Islamic Republic of Iran,” Human Rights Quarterly, May 1996. My discussion with Afshari is based on the argument he presents in this essay, from which I have quoted.
2 Several Iranian clerics and lay reformers, for example, mentioned the authority of the Hobregan, the clerical “Council of Experts,” which appoints the Leader and has the authority to remove him and, in theory, to restructure his post and responsibilities as well.
3 Olivier Roy, The Failure of Political Islam (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1994), p. 121.
4 Ghassan Salamé, “Islam and the West,” Foreign Policy, Spring 1993, p. 29.
5 Barnett R. Rubin, The Fragmentation of Afghanistan (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1995), p. 179.
6 Emmanuel Sivan, “Arab Nationalism in the Age of Islamic Resurgence,” to be published in J. Jankovsky and I. Gershuni, eds., Rethinking Arab Nationalism (New York: Columbia University Press, 1996).
7 R. Hrair Dekmejian, Islam in Revolution, 2d ed. (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1995) p. 57.
8 Sana Abed-Kotob, “The Accommodationists Speak: Goals and Strategies of the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt,” International Journal of Middle East Studies, Aug. 1995, p. 322.
9 For an egregious example, see Arthur L. Lowrie, “The Campaign against Islam and American Foreign Policy,” Middle East Policy, Sept. 1995., pp. 210-19.
10 Ghassan Salamé, ed., Democracy Without Democrats? (New York: I. B. Tauris, 1994).
11 Edward Djerejian, “The U.S. and the Middle East in a Changing World; Address at Meridian House International,” U.S. Department of State Dispatch, June 2, 1992.
12 Mahmud az-Zahhar, interview in Muslim World, Spring 1995.
13 Afshari, “Islamic Cultural Relativism,” p. 255.