Capitalism and Class in the Gulf Arab States

[Cover of Arab Studies Journal Vol. XX No. 1 (Spring 2012)] [Cover of Arab Studies Journal Vol. XX No. 1 (Spring 2012)]

Capitalism and Class in the Gulf Arab States

By : Omar Dahi

Adam Hanieh, Capitalism and Class in the Gulf Arab States. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011.

[This review was originally published in the most recent issue of Arab Studies Journal. For more information on the issue, or to subscribe to ASJ, click here.]

What if capitalists in a particular country could draw on a reserve army of semi-skilled labor that includes hundreds of millions of noncitizens whom they could import, hire, fire and expel at will, without worrying about laws, regulations, and collective action? What if they could perfect labor market segmentation to a degree whereby only one social class—capital—reproduces itself, but another—labor—never does? What if, asks Adam Hanieh in his new book, Capitalism and Class in the Gulf Arab States, the economies of the Gulf Arab states should not be conceptualized as underdeveloped, semi-feudal economies that happen to sit on stupendous sources of wealth that they either squander or distribute to local constituencies in return for political loyalty? Hanieh’s groundbreaking book argues that we should not view the Gulf Arab states as anomalies in the worldwide economy. Instead, he claims, the story of twentieth-century capitalism could not be told without recounting their central role: the “global economy is part of the actual essence of the Gulf itself—the development of the global ‘appears’ through the development of the Gulf” (16).

Hanieh’s book makes several other contributions. Within Middle Eastern studies, it provides a challenge to the rentier-state framework—the main paradigm for understanding state-society relations and economic development in the Gulf states—by questioning the emphasis on state autonomy and substituting it with a Marxist class analysis. The book is also a contribution toward understanding Gulf capitalist accumulation on a local and regional scale and the connections between Gulf capitalism and the trajectory of the world capitalist system. Lastly, its examination of over five hundred Gulf Cooperation Council (GCC) companies, financial institutions, and projects provides a wealth of empirical data on the development of the Gulf-based corporations and their regional reach.

The first theme of Hanieh’s book, advanced in chapters one, two, and four, is the “centrality of the Gulf to the structure of the global economy” (54). Hanieh shows how the Gulf countries were integrated into the world capitalist system through incorporation into the British colonial empire. Their importance was initially due to their strategic location, and their centrality to world affairs did not come into full force until the transformation of global capitalism into an oil-based economy. Oil’s centrality in the postwar period—with the rise of the automobile and petrochemical industries, the expansion of industrialization primarily in the United States and in US-dominated Europe, and the recycling of petrodollars, which precipitated the Third World debt crisis—may be familiar themes. In later chapters, however, Hanieh departs from standard accounts to argue that in the neoliberal turn, and in particular with the financialization of the global economy, the Gulf continued to play a pivotal role. First, it continued to recycle petrodollars into industrial (and increasingly military) purchases from the West. Second, after a secret agreement with the United States in 1974, Saudi Arabia committed to maintaining the value of the US dollar through large purchases of US treasuries as well as by using its influence in OPEC to prevent diversification of its currency basket. Third, massive amounts of petrodollars, primarily from Gulf-based sovereign wealth funds, went into US and European financial, debt, and equity markets, which allowed the rise of the financial bubbles and easy credit that contributed to the most recent worldwide recession.

A second and quite remarkable contribution of the book is its documentation, in chapters five and six, of the rise and interconnectedness of “Khaliji” capital. According to Hanieh, Khaliji capital can be understood as a group of firms, partially or wholly owned by Gulf citizens through either family ownerships or partnerships, operating in three circuits of capital: production (petrochemicals, steel, industrial goods, and manufactured consumer durables); commodity (import and sale of retail, machinery, and consumer capital goods and durables; malls; media); and finance (banking and investment firms; real estate). Having surveyed over three hundred companies, Hanieh here provides quite possibly the largest single collection of Gulf firms’ wide array of products, their geographic reach, and partnerships, making this work an essential reference for students of the Middle East and economics alike. Crucially, Hanieh’s argument is that the “trade relationship between individual GCC states and the international sphere cannot be understood solely through the lens of national space. Rather each Gulf state needs to be located within a regional system, which interacts with the global economy as a whole and is then articulated internally through a network of intra-GCC trade” (127–8). The regional expansion of these networks has been facilitated by intra-GCC treaties, most notably the Economic Agreement between the States of the Cooperation Council (EASCC) of 2001, but also other events, such as the postinvasion reconstruction of Iraq, which was in fact dominated by Khaliji—not US—capital. Hanieh’s book also discusses the increasing reach of Khaliji capital into Lebanon, Egypt, Jordan, and the West Bank.

The crucial analytical contribution of the book lies in its Marxist analysis, advanced in chapters one and three, of capitalist class formation in the Gulf. Hanieh identifies two characteristics of this process: reliance by the Gulf countries on temporary migrant labor flows alongside a narrow definition of citizenship, and second, the redirection of oil revenues to merchant families. These two characteristics work in conjunction to (re)create and expand capital accumulation along the production, commodity, and finance sectors, as well as to segment and proscribe the (re)creation of a labor class capable of providing a systemic challenge to capital. This process evolved over time as Saudi Arabian and Arab labor became militant and thus troublesome, and was replaced systematically by South Asian workers. The jobs reserved for citizens were either managerial or high-level administration, and many were in fact plain sinecures. This mechanism allowed the ruling families to consolidate power through strengthening alliances with the emerging and privileged merchant families. It also means that workers do not have any permanent “right to space” or existence in those countries; instead, they constitute an “acute form of alienated labor,” whereby social ties are continuously dissolved and shifting (65). This alienation prohibited the emergence of a collective memory of struggle, particularly since workers are drawn from various spaces geographically, ethnically, and religiously.

Despite the impressive accomplishments of this book, there are some analytical and empirical limitations. A minor one has to do with the seeming conflation of the global distribution of oil rents accruing from ownership of oil with the internal (or regional) process of Gulf capitalist class formation. Hanieh states that the “Gulf capitalist classes” he is focusing on “have formed around revenues arising from this [down-stream] circuit—not through direct ownership of oil production but rather through related activities such as construction and services” (54). Presumably, however, it is a small number of decision makers within the state itself that control the depositing of petrodollars in European banks and the investment in US and European financial markets by sovereign wealth funds; perhaps, then, such investments follow a different logic, such as securing US patronage of the ruling families. The two processes do not appear to be one and the same. In other words, Hanieh does not fully develop the connection between the different geographic scales of his analysis.

This limitation, in turn, is related to a second one. Hanieh frames the book as a challenge to the state-autonomous, rentier-state paradigm, insisting that the state should be seen as the outcome, rather than the determiner, of social relations. But Hanieh’s story of how the capitalist classes developed remains top-down, macro, and state-centric. In many ways his narrative is of a rational linear process of the Gulf states’ either serving empire or building local coalitions and political loyalty through distribution of surplus rents. A bit of dialectical analysis is missing, however. How did the rise of capitalist firms in the Gulf constrain or shape the behavior of the Gulf state? Is the state a “reflection of these developing capitalist social relations,” or is it the other way around (57)? Is the Gulf state an automatic reflection of its capitalist constituencies? For example, did inter- or intra-capitalist class struggle play any role in Saudi Arabia’s drawn-out application for accession to the World Trade Organization? How did the exigencies of capital accumulation in Iraq impact the political relationship with the postinvasion Iraqi leadership? Did the bailout of firms postrecession favor the productive, commodity, or finance circuit—or were they treated all equally, and why?

Third, while many of the firms discussed in the book do indeed rely on temporary migrant labor, not all of them do (for example, media), and some increasingly have come to rely on more skilled Arab labor. Does this shift constitute a change in the class relations or profit margin? In addition, there is little attempt to measure profit rates (or the rate of exploitation) as a result of the unique class relations in the Gulf and to assess how these profit rates are changing temporally, sectorally, or geographically; the impact of labor market segmentation on increasing the rate of exploitation is only mentioned in passing (64).

Hanieh’s book should be viewed in comparison with two other important contributions on the topic of oil, capitalism, and democracy: Robert Vitalis’s America’s Kingdom (Stanford University Press, 2006) and Timothy Mitchell’s Carbon Democracy (Verso Press, 2011). Hanieh’s book is equally impressive in linking microlevel analysis with macroprocesses, though unlike the other two it does not take up intra- and interclass struggle or labor resistance. These critiques, however, do not diminish the outstanding contribution of Capitalism and Class in the Gulf Arab States—a book that is likely to be a reference and entry point for many similar works yet to come.

New Texts Out Now: Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education

Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education. Austin: University of Texas Press, 2011.

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

Betty S. Anderson (BSA): I always joke that I conceived the project in the pool of the Carlton Hotel in Beirut. In June 2000, I visited Beirut for the first time so I could attend an Arab American University Graduate (AAUG) conference. One day, I walked with some friends all along the Corniche and up through the American University of Beirut (AUB) campus and then back to the hotel. Since it was late June and ridiculously hot, the only option at that point was to jump in the pool as quickly as possible. Two minutes in the pool and the thought occurred to me that my next research project was going to have to be about Beirut in some way. I had fallen in love with the city in just that one day. A half second later, I thought, I should write a history of AUB.

Besides the fact that I wanted to get back to Beirut as soon as possible, I wanted to know why AUB had been so influential in politicizing its students. At the time, I was doing additional research for my book on Jordan (Nationalist Voices in Jordan: The Street and the State) and a number of the political activists I studied had attended AUB. Their memoirs were filled with explanations and stories about how important those four years were for the development of their political identities. However, I had no idea as I floated in the pool that day that I’d have to do extensive research on Protestant missionaries and education long before I could even get to those Arab nationalists. At the time, I really knew relatively little about the school’s history.

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

BSA: When I finally got back to Beirut in 2004, it was research on the educational systems offered at the Syrian Protestant College and AUB that eventually ended up directing my thesis. I was struck initially by the goals the American founders and their successors set for the school. They talked more about the transformative process they wanted the students to undertake than the course options they were offering. For example, Daniel Bliss (1866-1902) preached about producing Protestants who understood not only the liturgy but the lifestyle required of one converting to this faith; Bayard Dodge (1923-1948) exhorted students to follow the model of the modern American man as they sought to develop new characters for themselves. The former presided over a missionary educational system, the latter the new liberal education system then being formulated back in America. The first half of the book discusses this shift as the American University of Beirut was renamed in 1920.

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[Main gate of AUB campus. Photo by Betty S. Anderson.]

Liberal education, as American educators developed it in the second half of the nineteenth century, asks its students to be active participants in their educational experience. Before this point, professors taught their students a fixed body of knowledge; students were required to memorize and recite the data to prove that they had learned it. In liberal education, the system asks that professors teach students how to think and analyze so they can produce data on their own.

The second half of the book examines how the students reacted to this shifting pedagogical focus. The American leaders of the school repeatedly stated their goals for the students, and most books and articles on AUB focus on only those voices. However, that stance leaves out an important element of the AUB story, because only the students can truly determine whether the programs are effective. AUB is famous for the many student protests that have taken place on campus, starting with the Darwin Affair of 1882, leading to the Muslim Controversy of 1909, and then on to the large protests of the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s. As I discovered when I delved into the archives, students used dozens of newspapers to explain why they were protesting. The catalyst was always a particular event, on campus or off, but the students always framed their arguments around the freedom they felt the liberal education system promised. They fought against any administrative attempts to curtail their actions and frequently accused the administration of not following the guidelines set by American liberal education. This issue became increasingly contentious as students worked to define an Arab nationalism that called on them to be politically active while on campus. The administration continually opposed this position, and many of the student-administrative conflicts centered on the differing definitions of freedom put forward on campus. I put “Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education” in the subtitle of the book because by the twentieth century, these were the two dominant elements defining the relationship between the students and the administration.

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

BSA: Most of my work has centered on education in one form or another. In my book on Jordan, I wrote of the politicizing role high schools in Jordan and Palestine, as well as schools like AUB, played in mobilizing a national opposition movement in the 1950s. I have published a number of articles analyzing the narratives the Jordanian and Lebanese states present to their students in history and Islamic textbooks. Moving on to a comprehensive study of one particularly influential school was a natural progression. The difference was that I now had to study American education in the same way I had previously examined the influence of education in the Middle East.

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

BSA: I hope AUB alumni want to read the book and, equally, that they find something of their story in it. I did not want to cite just the Americans who founded and ran the school; I purposely wanted to write about the students themselves. Typical university histories leave out the words and actions of the students in favor of hagiographies about the founders and their famous successors. I also hope that scholars and students interested in studies of education and nationalism will be interested. This is a book that addresses both Middle Eastern and American studies.

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[Assembly Hall and College Hall, AUB Campus. Photos by Betty S. Anderson.]

J: What other projects are you working on now?

BSA:
I have a contract with Stanford University Press to publish a book called State and Society in the Modern Middle East. Like with anyone who undertakes to write a textbook, I am frustrated with those that are currently available. Textbooks of the modern Middle East typically focus just on state formation, the actions of the chief politicians, and the political interplay between states. My text focuses instead on the relationship between state and society as it developed over the last two hundred years. The states in the region centralized in the nineteenth century, faced colonialism in the early twentieth century, and then independence after World War II; these stages created new roles for state leaders. Civil society, in the broadest definition of the term, emerged from the eighteenth century forward as people sought new ways to organize within and against the states now intruding on their lives. They took advantage of the new institutions the states built to establish for themselves new class, national, and gender definitions, while frequently opposing the states that had introduced these very institutions. My text examines how schools, government offices, newspapers, political parties, and women’s groups constantly negotiated new relationships with their respective states.

Excerpt from The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education

From Chapter One:

"The great value of education does not consist in the accepting this and that to be true but it consists in proving this and that to be true," declared Daniel Bliss, founder of Syrian Protestant College (SPC; 1866–1920) and its president from 1866 to 1902, in his farewell address. President Howard Bliss (president, 1902–1920) said in his baccalaureate sermon in 1911, "In a word, the purpose of the College is not to produce singly or chiefly men who are doctors, men who are pharmacists, men who are merchants, men who are preachers, teachers, lawyers, editors, statesmen; but it is the purpose of the College to produce doctors who are men, pharmacists who are men, merchants who are men, preachers, teachers, lawyers, editors, statesmen who are men." Bayard Dodge (1923–1948) stated at his inauguration as president of the newly renamed American University of Beirut (AUB; 1920– ), "We do not attempt to force a student to absorb a definite quantity of knowledge, but we strive to teach him how to study. We do not pretend to give a complete course of instruction in four or five years, but rather to encourage the habit of study, as a foundation for an education as long as life itself." The successors to these men picked up the same themes when they elaborated on the school`s goals over the years; most recently, in May 2009, President Peter Dorman discussed his vision of AUB’s role. "AUB thrives today in much different form than our missionary founders would have envisioned, but nonetheless—after all this time—it remains dedicated to the same ideal of producing enlightened and visionary leaders."

In dozens of publications, SPC and AUB students have also asserted a vision of the transformative role the school should have on their lives. The longest surviving Arab society on campus, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa, published a magazine of the same name during most academic years between 1923 and 1954 and as of 1936 stated as its editorial policy the belief that "the magazine`s writing is synonymous with the Arab student struggle in the university." From that point forward, the editors frequently listed the society`s Arab nationalist goals. In the fall 1950 edition, for example, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa`s Committee on Broadcasting and Publications issued a statement identifying the achievement of Arab unity as the most important goal because "it is impossible to separate the history, literature and scientific inheritance of the Arabs" since "the Arab essence is unity." Toward this end, al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa pledged to accelerate the "growth of the true nationalist spirit" among the students affiliated with the organization. In describing education as an activist pursuit, the statement declares, "To achieve political ideas which are aimed at our nationalism it is necessary for we as students to seek information by many different means." In this call, the AUB Arab students must take on the task of studying the Arab heritage as thoroughly and frankly as possible so that when they graduate they can move into society with solutions to the many problems plaguing the Arab world.

Since the school`s founding in 1866, its campus has stood at a vital intersection between a rapidly changing American missionary and educational project to the Middle East and a dynamic quest for Arab national identity and empowerment. As the presidential quotes indicate, the Syrian Protestant College and the American University of Beirut imported American educational systems championing character building as their foremost goal. Proponents of these programs hewed to the belief that American educational systems were the perfect tools for encouraging students to reform themselves and improve their societies; the programs do not merely supply professional skills but educate the whole person. As the quotes from al-`Urwa al-Wuthqa attest, Arab society pressured the students to change as well. The Arab nahda, or awakening, of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries called on students to take pride in their Arab past and to work to recreate themselves as modern leaders of their society; the Arab nationalist movement of the twentieth century asked that students take a lead in fighting for Arab independence from foreign control. The students streaming through the Main Gate year after year used both of these American and Arab elements to help make the school not only an American institution but also one of the Arab world and of Beirut, as the very name, the American University of Beirut, indicates. This process saw long periods of accommodation between the American-led administration and the Arab students, but just as many eras when conflict raged over the nature of authority each should wield on campus; the changing relationship between the administration and the students serves as the cornerstone of this book, for it is here where much of the educational history of SPC and AUB has been written.

From Chapter Five:

The 1952 April Fool’s Day issue of Outlook (called Lookout on that day) satirized the proliferation of student protests that had dominated campus life for the previous few years. In the paper’s lead article, the author declared, “A School of Revolutionary Government, designed to equip AUB students with a wide knowledge of modern techniques of conspiracy and revolution, is to be opened during the fall semester, a communique from the President’s Office announced late Friday.” Continuing the same theme, the article reports, “All courses will include a minimum of three lab hours to be spent in street battles with gendarmes and similar applications of theories learned in classrooms.” President Stephen Penrose (1948-1954), the article stated, gave a Friday morning chapel talk on the new school motto: “That they may have strife and have it more abundantly.” In a further announcement, the paper described the day’s protest.

There will be a demonstration this afternoon at three in front of the Medical Gate to object against everything[.] All those interested please report there promptly five [minutes] before time. The demonstration promises to be very exciting—tear gas will be used, and the slogans are simply delightful. If all goes well, police interference is expected. If not to join, come and watch.

This, of course, had not been the first era of student protest; the difference by the 1950s was the widespread and sustained nature of the conflict between the administration and the students. When Lookout published its satirical articles in 1952, students had been organizing demonstrations in support of Palestinians and Moroccans, and against any and all things imperialist, since 1947; these events only petered out in 1955 as the administration banned the two main groups organizing them, the Student Council and the Arab society, al-cUrwa al-Wuthqa. Students engaged in these exercises explicitly as Arabs, proud of their past, and striving toward cultural, political and economic unity in the future. In their actions, students sought to integrate their educational experiences at AUB with the real-life events taking place outside the Main Gate, for only then did they feel they could be trained to function as the vanguard initiating the necessary changes in their society.

[Excerpted from Betty S. Anderson, The American University of Beirut: Arab Nationalism and Liberal Education. © 2011 by The University of Texas Press. Excerpted by permission of the author. For more information, or to order the book, click here.]