Avicenna - The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs 6.1

winter 2016 vol 6 no 1

avicenna the stanford journal on muslim affairs

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THE STANFORD JOURNAL ON MUSLIM AFFAIRS

avicenna THE STANFORD JOURNAL ON MUSLIM AFFAIRS

WINTER 2016 VOL 6 NO 1

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Sevde Kaldiroglu ’17 ASSOCIATE EDITORS Abdullah AlSharhan ’18 Ken-Ben Chao ’17 Bradley Wo ’17 Rifath Rashid ’18 DESIGNERS Motasim Zawawi ’18 Anna Zeng ’18 FINANCIAL OFFICER Osama El-Gabalawy, M.S. ’16

To contact Avicenna Editorial Board or to send text or image submissions, please email at avicenna.stanford@gmail.com.

Avicenna—The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs would like to thank the Associated Students of Stanford University (ASSU) for their support.

All images in this journal are in the public domain with Creative Commons copyright licenses unless otherwise noted.

More information about these licences can be found at http://creativecommons.org/licenses/.

Front cover image, “Walking on Tuz Golu (Salt Lake), Turkey”, by Sevde Kaldiroglu ’17.

Back cover image, “Orientamental / Argeeleh being used in Petra, Jordan”, by Allison Mickel, PhD ’16.

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CONTENTS Editor’s Note SEVDE KALDIROGLU

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Introductory Remarks to “About Friends and Time” TANVIR AKHTAR AHMED

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Women’s Rights in the Egyptian Revolution GARIMA SHARMA

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Iran in Paintings INDIA EMERICK

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Overlooked: Malcolm X’s Relationship with His Final Mentor, Abdul Rahman Azzam Pasha MALALY POPAL

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The War on Drugs and the War on Terror: Parallels and Implications OSAMA EL-GABALAWY

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Beyond the Imperial Paradigm: Personal Experiences at Eyüp ALEXA ANDAYA

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Editor’s Note 2011 marked a turbulent time for the Muslim world. Multiple civil movements turned into groundbreaking revolutions, including the Jasmine Revolution in Tunisia, the Egyptian Revolution, and protests in Libya, Syria, Yemen, and several other Muslimmajority countries.

It was during this revolutionary time that two Stanford sophomores, Sahar Khan and Irteza Binte-Farid, decided to come up with a publication in order to fill a crucial void at one of the most distinguished educational institutions in the world.

They wanted to create an intellectual space at Stanford to discuss and explore issues pertaining to Muslim peoples—a massive group constituting nearly one fourth of the entire world population.

They believed that Stanford, abounding with different unique communities and scholars, needed to play a part in this awakening by bringing together its eclectic voices to create meaningful dialogue around Islam and its diverse adherents. Out of these endeavors was born Avicenna – The Stanford Journal on Muslim Affairs.

Today, after six years, Avicenna continues to fill this void on Stanford’s campus.

In our contemporary world where Muslims are often depicted as two-dimensional caricatures without their own voice, Avicenna is here to go beyond stereotypes and uncover the countless dimensions forming the foundations of Muslim cultures and traditions.

In a world where Muslims regularly make it to the headlines as either perpetrators or victims of hate crimes, we are here to give voice to Muslim peoples and showcase the diversity of their narratives, the majority of which do not fit into the skewed representation by mainstream media.

In the current political realm that often glorifies the Western ideals as the sole definition of civilization, we are here to dig into the social, political, literary, cultural, historical, religious, scientific and artistic nuances of Islamic civilizations.

As a non-sectarian, independent publication, we exist to portray Muslims not as silent objects but as knowing subjects, from the inside rather than the outside; to maintain an academic agora where members of our communities, from different cultures, beliefs and ethnicities, can critically examine issues related to the Muslim world.

We are here to recognize and celebrate Muslims as people who have contributed and are still contributing to the world’s intellectual wealth.

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We want to remind the world of the 12th century polymath Avicenna (Ibn Sina), the philosopher Averroes (Ibn Rushd), the great Sufi poet Rumi (Mawlana), and the phenomenal architect Mimar Sinan. We want to talk about Rhazes’ contributions to medicine, Al-Khwarizmi’s innovations in mathematics and Malcolm X’s human rights activism.

We are here to recognize that this renowned institution we are a part of comes from a longer tradition of institutionalized education, which started in 859 CE, when the oldest university in the world, University of Karueein, was founded in Morocco by a Muslim woman, Fatima al-Fihri.1 Our goal is to push the frontiers of normative discussion starting from our campus, with the vision of spreading this discourse around Muslim affairs to many other campuses and academic circles, and creating an interconnected, multidisciplinary and inclusive platform.

In Avicenna’s sixth volume, once again we are dedicated to this mission. In our Winter 2016 edition, we offer a spectrum of different perspectives on various aspects of the Muslim world. This edition’s prose collection opens with Garima Sharma’s discussion of the notion of women’s rights during the 2011 Egyptian Revolution.

In a detailed analysis, Malaly Popal delves into Malcolm X’s life and examines his relationship with his final mentor, Abdul Rahman Azzam Pasha.

In his opinions piece, Osama El-Gabalawy draws attention to the parallels between the War on Drugs and the War on Terror, and explores the potential consequences.

The prose collection concludes with Alexa Andaya’s essay on Eyüp, a historical area in Istanbul, Turkey, where she analyzes scholarly narratives on this region and proposes alternative views based on her personal experiences from her visit.

In addition to the academic articles, the Journal presents a rich selection of artistic works. Tanvir Akhtar Ahmed provides us with his translation of one of Ali Ibn’s poems while India Emerick takes us all the way to Iran through her drawings and paintings as well as her personal observations from her journey. In her photographs from Jordan, Turkey and Egypt, Allison Mickel captures the aesthetic wealth of countries with long Islamic traditions and cultures.

We truly hope that, in the upcoming pages, you find yourself connecting and interacting with Muslim peoples and cultures in a way you may not have done previously.

Always here, Sevde Kaldiroglu ’17 Editor-in-Chief

1 "Medina of Fez." UNESCO World Heritage Centre. UNESCO World Heritage Centre 1992-2016, n.d. Web. 7 Mar. 2016.

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Introductory Remarks to “About Friends and Time” (Ascribed to Ali Ibn Abi Talib) Tanvir Akhtar Ahmed B.A. International Affairs ’14, The George Washington University Ph.D. Religious Studies ’20, Stanford University The figure of Alī ibn Abī Tālib is common currency between Muslims of various confessions in today’s world. Historically, his memory has been of significance for mystics, grammarians, jurists, and theologians (amongst others) and has often been linked with eloquence and rhetorical prowess. The well-known compendium of sermons and letters called Nahj al-Balāgha is attributed to him. Less recognized is his Dīwān, a collection of poems also ascribed to Alī. I have translated a short piece from this Dīwān, on the affair of friends and time.

My method is to take each single line of Arabic and break it into four English

lines, befitting the idea of a bayt (line) as an individual stanza. Thus, each set of four lines in the translation equals one line in the Arabic. I have preferred a more literal translation to a more colloquial one. A colloquial style would give a better sense for the spirit of the poem—the so-called inner meanings or mystical meanings— and my translation attempts none of that.

While every act of translation is an act of interpretation, the primary reason for doing this is to prevent as much of my own interpretation as I can from affecting the English version. I believe this allows for better readings of poetry in translation, not poorer ones.

The original Arabic script of the poem, “About Friends and Time”

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About Friends and Time (Fī’l-asdiqā’ wa’l-zaman) Alī ibn Abī Tālib Friendship and brotherhood Changed Truthfulness decreased And hopes were cut

I will be enriched by the one Who makes him not need me No poverty or prosperity Shall endure

Time handed me over To a friend Full of deceit He had no loyalty

And all friendship is for God Purified Brotherhood is not pure Accompanied by immorality

And a certain brother I was loyal to his rights But his loyalty Did not endure

So every wound Has its remedy But bad morality Can have no remedy

They are bosom companions When I have no need of them And foes When torment descends

Bliss Has no permanence But as thus Misery does not remain

They make friendship endure When they see me And the friendship remains As long as the meeting remains

If I ever denied A promise to a friend Then in me Is generosity and humility

And if I do not need one of them Then he despises me He punishes me And it is enough1

When the head of the People of the House2 Turns away He appears to them The rudest of people

1 Literally “Wa in ghanaytu ‘an ahadin qalānī/wa ‘āqibnī bimā fīhi iktifā.’” I translated “bimā fīhi iktifā’” as ‘It is enough,’ but there is a certain ambiguity in the line, even in the original—for instance, the poet might mean that he has had enough with being punished, or perhaps he might mean that his friend is satisfied with the punishment. The literal translation doesn’t actually make too much sense in English, so liberalities were taken with this bayt—hence this explanatory note.

2 Capitalized as a specific reference to the family of the Prophet (literally, the ahl al-bayt).

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A Brief Note It is something of a stereotype that a major convention of classical Arabic poetry is the idea of “the vicissitudes of time.” Yet for a poem ostensibly about friends and time, the latter is something of an invisible actor throughout the verses. It appears openly towards the beginning—“Time handed me over to a friend”—but for the most part, time is dealt with through various other concepts: changing, remaining, permanence, endurance. The poem asks its readers certain questions, and amongst them are those that prompt reflection on the nature of time, as well as the relationship of the self to time.

The poem draws an intricate relationship between these natures of time and the ties that bind us. It is subtly done, and also quite precisely (nowhere, for example, do we find mention of fate or the age). The open discussion on bonds is girded and cabled by what time does, and paying attention to the latter can be as interesting as dwelling on the former. It is for that reason I have called attention to the concept of time here.

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A pigeon looks out the window of Hagia Sophia in Istanbul, Turkey (photo by Allison Mickel, PhD '16)

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Women’s Rights in the Egyptian Revolution Garima Sharma B.A. Economics ’15, Stanford University

On January 18, 2011, 26-year-old activist and founder of the April 6 Youth Movement Asmaa Mahfouz posted a video responding to a series of self-immolations registering protest against the rampant corruption that characterized 30 years of Hosni Mubarak’s governance of Egypt.

The video went viral, and on January 25, 2011, hundreds of thousands of Egyptian citizens flocked to Tahrir Square to demand a change in government. In effect, Mahfouz sparked the Egyptian Revolution of 2011, which culminated in the ouster of then President Mubarak, and the first free parliamentary elections in Egypt in over three decades.

Mahfouz is only one of a series of women and feminist activists (e.g. Seif, Ibrahim, Elmahdy) who played a pivotal role in the progression of the Egyptian Revolution.

Cyber-activism initially presented women with the opportunity to actively engage through the Internet (the Facebook event for the January 25th protest attracted over 80,000 guests), which subsequently manifested in the form of street protests and physical participation.1 However, the revolution is viewed as having very mixed implications for 1 Ghannam, Farha. Live and Die Like a Man: Gender Dynamics in Urban Egypt. N.p.: Stanford University Press, 2013.

women’s rights in Egypt, both during its occurrence and in its wake. In my paper, I explore the agenda espoused by women activists when engaging in the revolution—did they participate because they believed the same would enhance women’s rights? Or was gender not on their radar at the outset? Did demands for gender-based rights become more relevant as the revolution progressed? To what extent has the post-revolution era met the expectations of women activists, and what does the current political situation portend for women’s rights from this point onward?

I argue that the 2011 Egyptian Revolution presents an interesting parallel to the 1919 Egyptian movement for independence from British rule, in that both espoused a populist national agenda at their start.

Only later, when the fulfillment of this agenda began to co-opt women’s rights, did demands for women’s emancipation gain traction. However, activists identify many barriers to such emancipation in the present day—including the inability to define a common feminist agenda, deeply entrenched conceptions of masculinity that prevent the transfer of power to women, and lack of political will. In effect, the revolution has, at least for the time being, changed little for women in Egypt.

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Women’s Rights in Egypt: A Brief Timeline At the time of and immediately following the fall of the Ottoman Empire in Egypt, a patriarchal interpretation of religious Islamic diktats shaped life in the public as well as private spheres. Women were originally precluded from obtaining a formal education and participating in employment, while also being subjected to child marriage, discriminatory family and inheritance laws, and [mandatory] full veiling.1 The initial transition to less restrictive policies in the public sphere occurred in the late 19th century, under the reign of Muhammad Ali. This period marks the advent of a women’s (feminist) press (1892), and the growth of Islamic modernism, which emphasizes the importance of ijtihad, or an independent/ individual interpretation of the modern code of conduct.2 Activists of the time employed ijtihad to make arguments consistent with both Islam and feminist ideals (although the latter were not explicitly labeled as “feminist” at the time.) These included opinions in favor of women’s education and employment, and also against segregation and full veiling.3

Outspoken progressive male nationalists of the time also supported the quest to secure women’s right to education, employment, and the ability to worship in congregational mosques.4 In fact, the demands of nationalists often surpassed those being made by their women’s rights activists—for example, the former vehemently opposed, while feminists like Badiya and others adopted a less extreme position, believing that education and 1 Badran, Margot. “Competing Agenda: Feminists, Islam and the State in Nineteenth- and Twentieth-Century Egypt.”

Women, Islam and the State. Edited by Deniz Kandiyoti.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania: Temple University Press, 1991.

201-36 2 Ibid.

3 Ibid.

4 Ibid.

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reclamation of public space needed to precede an abolition of the veil. 5 Given nationalist support for feminist ideals, the feminist and nationalist movements worked in concert with one another during the national revolution from 1919-22; both these movements, and the actors involved therein, prioritized independence over other any other goal.

Following independence, the women’s wing of the nationalist party (Wafd) insisted on serving as decision-makers alongside their male comrades. However, these women and other women’s rights activists now encountered diminished support among the very male nationalists who had previously been vocal proponents of liberal family laws, and women’s education.6 Consequently, the subsequent struggle to institute women’s rights was a solitary one, although with promising gains along the way—for instance, secondary school education was made equal for boys and girls in 1923; in 1924, the minimum age of marriage for women was raised to 18 years (and for men to 21 years), effectively banning child marriage; starting in 1929, women could enter the university. That being said, normative reform in the private sphere, including family law, as well as suffrage, remained elusive goals.

The post-colonial Saadat regime ushered in a change in personal laws in the 1970s.

A woman was now accorded the right to initiate divorce if her husband took on a second wife, and was even provided added alimony protection in such a scenario.

Women’s participation in the workforce increased, especially in the wake of higher out-migration among men.7 Upon coming to power in 1985, Mubarak reversed many of these advances. His laws, which 5 Ibid.

6 Ibid.

7 Ibid.

limited a woman’s agency to legally dictate terms in a marriage, and on the topic of inheritance, continued to be in place at the time of the 2011 revolution.

Women’s Rights in the Egyptian Revolution The initial call to action in the Egyptian Revolution was in opposition to the police brutality and rampant corruption that plagued Egypt under Mubarak’s rule.

The protest on 25th January 2011 was motivated by a need for political change, the need to demand dignity for all, and the need for a system of governance that would be accountable to the desires of everyday people. This sentiment is reflected in the original YouTube video posted by Mahfouz, where she says: “Four Egyptians have set themselves on fire thinking maybe we can have a revolution like in Tunisia, maybe we can have freedom, justice, honor and human dignity”.8 Women and men alike rallied around this cause, with gender norms not constituting the forefront of activist demands.

However, women’s rights slowly gained significance in light of the revolution’s unfolding.9 Women’s safety was notably high during the first eighteen days of demonstrations (up until Mubarak’s ouster in February 2011), with Mahfouz even making reference to this in her post-25th January statement, saying: “Yesterday, not even one girl was harassed, even among those thousands.”10 However, this state of relative safety did not last long, with Human Rights Watch reporting nineteen cases of mob sexual 8 Goodman, Amy. “Asmaa Mahfouz & the Youtube Video that Helped Spark the Egyptian Uprising.” Democracy Now. 8 Feb. 2011.

9 Ghannam, Farha. Phone Interview. 2014.

10 Goodman, “Asmaa Mahfouz & the Youtube Video that Helped Spark the Egyptian Uprising.”

assaults in December 2011 and over ninety one assaults in only four days of protests in June 2013.11 In a harrowing report released in 2013, survivors recount their experiences of sometimes being attacked by weapon-wielding crowds of 30-100 men. A 30-year-old musician, Yasmine El Baramawy, reports being repeatedly raped and assaulted for ninety minutes on 23rd November 2012, after attending a demonstration in Tahrir Square.12 What led to such a marked transition, from no violence meted out to women in preouster protests, to the savagery described above as characteristic of post-ouster demonstrations? Author Farha Ghannam, who has written extensively on gender norms and masculinity in Egypt, believes the same is linked with the womencentric agenda espoused by the latter set of protests.13 As long as women activists’ demands were aligned with broader antiMubarak motivations, they remained safe. When they began to demonstrate in pursuit of women’s representation on the constitutional council (convened to draft Egypt’s new constitution), activists faced backlash and even violence from the very protesters who had previously been their comrades. Men who had previously supported women’s participation were now asking them to refrain from public life and return home.14 Shocking videos emerged— of women being beaten viciously by male protesters and soldiers alike—and sexual harassment and assault became frequent occurrences in Tahrir.15 A striking contrast emerges between Egyptian women’s roles and expectations 11 “Egypt: Epidemic of Sexual Violence.” Human Rights Watch. 3 July 2013.

12 Ibid.

13 Ghannam, 2014.

14 Ibid.

15 Ibid.

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in and following the first nationalist revolution in 1919, and the same in and following the contemporary one in 2011.

In 1919, feminist revolutionaries worked hand-in-hand with nationalists and supported independence from colonial rule as being the top priority of the collective movement.1 Male nationalists were, in the pre-independence era, very vocal in their support of women’s education and rights under personal law.

In the quest for independence, however, goals for gender equity took second-stage.

These goals were abandoned altogether by male nationalists following independence.2 Much like their counterparts from 1919, women from the Egyptian Revolution of 2011 lent active support to the “greater goal” of freedom from corruption and the downfall of Mubarak, temporarily relegating any specific agenda for women’s rights to the backburner. At the successful close of the revolution, the women in 2011, like the ones in 1919, found themselves abandoned in their quest for genderbased equity. Both groups of women were excluded from critical decision-making positions and processes in the postrevolutionary era—the women’s wing of the Wafd party was unable to dictate the party line or find party support in 1919; similarly, women activists from 2011 did not find representation in the constitutional council.

Women in 2011, as in 1919, believed that were they to serve as equal participants in the revolution against poor governance and for the collective emancipation of all, they would be able to enjoy the benefits associated with such emancipation. To this end, they demanded but failed to receive a 30% quota in the post-Mubarak 1 Badran, Women, Islam and the State.

2 Ibid.

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constitutional council.3 While feminist activists following the 1919 Revolution were able to somewhat recover from the major setbacks they faced at the time of independence, to subsequently garner successes in the form of women’s secondary education, or a raise in the minimum age of marriage, it remains to be seen whether contemporary ones will witness a similar recovery. Currently, scholars and activists are not convinced that the revolution has yielded a fertile environment for the pursuit of gender equity. 4 Women’s Rights in the Post-Revolutionary Era The first parliamentary elections in 2012 and the rise of the post-revolution government led by the Muslim Brotherhood did not portend a progression on the front of women’s rights. As mentioned before, women activists demanded but did not find significant representation in the constitutional council.5 Only 8 out of 445 elected and 2 out of 10 appointed Members of Parliament (MPs) are women.

Additionally, the Muslim Brothers’ conception of how women should access public space, reflects a continuation of, and perhaps even a regression from, the Mubarak era.6 Even among elected women, those like MP Azza al-Garf have been found to harbor unfavorable opinions on the right of a woman to divorce her husband or to bear custody of a child, on the pretext that these stipulations violate Islamic Sharia and impose a “Western” model on Egyptian families.7 On the front of rights in general, and violence in particular, Egypt has emerged 3 Attasi, 2011.

4 Ghannam, 2014.

5 Attasi, 2011: They demanded thirty percent representation.

6 Ghannam, 2014.

7 Ibid.

as the worst Middle Eastern country for women, with 336 gender experts from the region ranking it last in terms of violence, reproductive rights, treatment of women within the family, and attitudes towards a woman’s role in politics.8 UN Women has also reported that 99.3% of Egyptian women experience harassment of some sort during the course of their lifetime.

Both reports indicate the absence of an environment in which women may thrive personally and politically, without the fear of discrimination, sexual harassment, or violence.

On the positive side, interim President Adly Mansour has put in place the country’s first law criminalizing sexual harassment, which prescribes a punishment of up to five years’ imprisonment or fines of between $400 and $7000 for perpetrators.9 President Sisi has also acknowledged the epidemic of sexual violence in the country, as marked by his 2013 visit to a female activist who had been brutally raped during an anti-Brotherhood protest.

Even so, the accounts of scholars and activists reflect little to no change in women’s experience of gender or oppression on the ground. Ghannam notes that comparing the first 18 days to after, women were originally treated with respect, but violence was inflicted on female activists even during Sisi’s inauguration.

Now, there are very deliberate attempts to scare women, and it is difficult for them to be out in public and to share their ideas.10 Barriers Many barriers to women’s emancipation 8 Boros, Crina. “Egypt is worst Arab state for women, Comoros best: survey.” Thomson Reuters Foundation. 12 Nov. 2013.

9 “Sexual harassment made a crime in Egypt.” Al Jazeera. 6 June 2014.

10 Ghannam, 2014.

remain—notably the inability to bring all women within the ambit of a common struggle, and a mischaracterization of demands for women’s rights as being a “foreign” conception. These are described below.

“Women’s rights” are not commonly defined for all women “The majority of the people we are trying to fight for are not on Twitter.

I feel sometimes that we just celebrate poor people when they die”, says Nihal Zaghloul, a 26-year-old IT officer and activist with an education in electronics and communications engineering. Her lament aptly characterizes the chasm between the predominantly urban, highly educated, and secular women frequently featured in Western media as being leaders in the Egyptian Revolution, and the predominantly rural, poor, and often religious women who were similarly discontented with corruption under Mubarak and consequently also participated in the revolution. The heterogeneity presented by the class backgrounds of these women manifests in the form of heterogeneous needs professed by them. Upper-class activists are significantly concerned with political and legal reform to enable women with greater access to the government and its resources; a reform of personal laws; and equitable representation in Parliament.11 On the other hand, health, education, and livelihoods form more important concerns among the second group of women.12 It is inaccurate to assume that equal rights in personal law, for example, are similarly pertinent to the lives of all women. “A woman in a very small village might have her own way to get her rights: her tribe, 11 Ibid.

12 Ibid.

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her family, or the sheik of the mosque.

So we have more work to do on the real common issues between all women, and to develop their sense of empowerment to make choices, set their own priorities, and express themselves well,” says Gihan Abouzeid, a UNFPA consultant.1 While the needs of women differ based on their class status, it is elite, educated, upperclass women who enjoy relatively greater access to positions of influence when compared with their lower/middle-class counterparts.2 The challenge that faces these leaders (of progressive organizations, for the most part) is to conduct outreach to marginalized groups across social classes and to better understand their needs.

Additionally, forms of protest that rely predominantly on Internet access (such as HarassMap) must necessarily be creatively expanded to bring poorer women within their ambit, or they risk excluding a vast majority of women in the country. Only post on-the-ground research and outreach can organizations that have higher visibility lend verity to claims of true representation.3

The perpetuation of gender roles considered “Egyptian” The nationalist nature of the Egyptian revolution has resulted in an unfortunate unintended consequence for women’s rights. Activists demanding these rights have been charged with trying to forward a “foreign agenda” that is not in tune with Egyptian, “Islamic” conceptions of the appropriate roles of men and women.

The decrial of demands for gender equity finds subtle support in state actions, and 1 Montasir, Jenny. “VOICES: Women’s Rights in Egypt – Reexamining a Revolution.” Middle East Voices. 27 June 2013.

2 Ghannam, 2014.

3 Abouzeid, Gihan. Voices 2013.

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also manifests in the form of verbal and physical violence against protesters trying to forward its agenda.4 As an example of state action, the 201314 editions of the Egyptian National Education textbooks deleted a picture of Doria Shafiq—a 1950s feminist who was instrumental in winning women’s right to suffrage in Egypt—because Shafiq was not wearing the hijab.5 Although the exclusion of Shafiq from textbooks was later reversed, following severe condemnation by activists across the country, it reflects in part the perpetuation of the idea that women and men have certain “proper” behaviors and roles to which they must adhere.

Additionally, some activists believe that women’s presence in the public sphere, outside the realms of “proper” behavior, has caused backlash. According to male activist Ahmed Awadalla, “(some) men feel women’s rights are a threat to their masculinity and their authority over women.”6 Consequently, (some) male protesters, who disapprove of the presence of women demanding rights through the public forum of protest, have chosen to perpetrate violence against them. Male anti-protesters hurled abuses at women and men peacefully protesting in support of women’s political representation.

“Go home and make Mahshy (stuffed vegetables)!” one protester was told.7 “Back to the kitchen”, and “off the square” were other chants employed by these antiprotesters. By and large, they attempted to delegitimize the demands of women’s 4 Ghannam, 2014.

5 Daragahi, Borzou. “Arab school textbooks rewritten after regime changes.” Financial Times. 20 Oct. 2013.

6 Montasir.

7 Sholkamy, Hania. “From Tahrir Square to my Kitchen.”

OpenDemocracy. 14 Mar. 2011.

rights activists as “unjustified, unnecessary, a threat to the gains of the revolution, out of time, out of place, and the product of a ‘foreign agenda’.8 This type of backlash is reflective of notions of masculinity and femininity that are far from deconstructed. Altering long-standing perceptions of what is appropriate behavior for men and women to engage in is a challenging and longterm process, but must necessarily precede change in patriarchal structures.9 Conclusion The Egyptian Revolution does not mark an immediate (or drastic) change in the status of women in Egypt. In this regard, it presents a parallel to the 1919 movement for independence, where women’s rights were co-opted in favor of populist demands for new governance. However, it is important to acknowledge that Egypt has been an oppressive state for not only women; the struggles of women’s rights 8 Sholkamy.

9 Ghannam, 2014.

activists are parallel to those of other pro-governance-reform male and female activists who have also been marginalized by the state.10 Many of these activists, such as El Baredei or Nancy Okail, have been forced into exile.11 Increased policy brutality, harassment, and violence have been suffered by many protesters (male and female)—this is what led to the revolution in the first place—even as women have suffered a disproportionate amount and been subject to egregious perpetrations of violence not only by the state but also by fellow Egyptians.

Therefore, the work of women’s emancipation requires the abolition of state-instituted violence against all, even in addition to—as described above—finding commonality and representative discourse around what constitutes women’s rights to begin with, as well as challenging entrenched notions of femininity and masculinity.

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10 Ibid.

11 Ibid.

Wallside / Medinet Habu, the mortuary temple of Ramesses III in Luxor, Egypt (photo by Allison Mickel, PhD ’16)

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Iran in Paintings India Emerick B.A. International Relations ’15, Stanford University

In this piece, India Emerick shares her personal notes, sketches and paintings from her visit to Iran in March 2015 as part of a Stanford alumni program.

“For Spring Break, I was lucky enough to be a young American student driving in a bus around Iran with a group of Stanford affiliates and making memories that will last a lifetime. While many of my friends partied in Cabo or surfed in Hawaii, I got the incredible opportunity to interact with a land and a people that have been reduced to stereotypes and myths by America and much of the world.”

Dowlat Abad Garden in Yazd (left), Facade of Mir Chaqmaq in Yazd (top right), and Shah Nematollah Vali Shrine in Mahan, Iran (bottom right) - All of the drawings and paintings by India Emerick ’15

“Iranians are fiercely proud of their long history and rich culture. The architecture is heart-achingly beautiful. There is also creative street art everywhere. The country is full of stunning snowcapped peaks and is also in the midst of the worst drought it’s seen.

The physical infrastructure is modern and in fantastic condition; the roads are better than in many American cities.”

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“I felt like a bona fide celebrity while in Iran. I’m probably in over 100 Iranian family photos. I couldn’t go anywhere without being hounded with handshakes, kisses, greetings, and invitations for a home-cooked meal. People would simply hand me their babies to hold. Those who approached me were thrilled to hear that I was American and eagerly wanted to discuss politics, in broken their English and my broken Persian.”

“Some women wear full chador, others interpret the religious laws to mean they can wear skin-tight skinny jeans and a scarf barely hanging off the back of their head.”

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“Images of Imams Khomeini and Khameini look down on you from everywhere.

Ayatollah Khomeini’s room—still perfectly preserved in Northern Tehran—is decorated with a painting of the Prophet Muhammad.

Murals of martyrs adorn most walls, billboards and buildings.”

“After my visit to Iran, no matter what propaganda I see from either the Iranian or American governments, I will know that Iranian people are some of the most gracious and most friendly people I've had the privilege to know. I will know that peace, cooperation, and friendly bilateral relations are possible and are something we must strive for—for their sakes and for ours.”

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Ayatollah Khomeini, Iranian religious leader (1902-1989)

Jameh Mosque in Yazd, Iran (All of the paintings by India Emerick ’15)

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Overlooked: Malcolm X’s Relationship with His Final Mentor, Abdul Rahman Azzam Pasha Malaly Popal B.S. Aviation ’02, San Jose State University MLA ’13, Stanford University

This article was originally written as a chapter of a larger thesis titled “Malcolm X: A Closer Look at His Pilgrimage to Mecca” for an MLA degree at Stanford University.

In 1964, upon returning from the Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca—the Hajj— Malcolm X told reporters, “I think the pilgrimage to Mecca broadened my scope probably more in twelve days than my previous experience during my thirty-nine years on this earth.”1 Prior to undertaking the Hajj, Malcolm X notoriously believed white people were a devil race. Three key factors—his personal experiences, Elijah Muhammad’s teachings, and his self-education—led Malcolm to the firm conviction that the white man was inherently evil and racist.

He also believed that God was a man named Allah whose human incarnation was W.D. Fard, and that this man had sent his messenger, Elijah Poole, later known as Elijah Muhammad, to liberate blacks in America.2 However, converting to orthodox Islam and experiencing the Hajj directly challenged these beliefs. Marking a turning point in his short life, the Hajj transformed Malcolm by solidifying his gradual ascent from a mindset of bigotry, hatred, and anger to viewing the world through a prism of spirituality and equality.3 The goal of this essay is to 1 Goldman, Peter. The Death and Life of Malcolm X. Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1979. 66.

2 In an effort to minimize confusion between Elijah Muhammad and the historical Muhammad, the former will be referenced as Elijah Muhammad or Muhammad and the latter as the Prophet Muhammad.

3 David E. Luellen also posits, “Following the pilgrimage to Mecca, Malcolm rejected the racist stand as vigorously.”

Luellen, David E. Ministers and Martyrs: Malcolm X and

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examine Malcolm X’s relationship and interaction with Abdul Rahman Azzam Pasha, whom he met on the Hajj, and to discuss Azzam Pasha’s influence on Malcolm’s overall Hajj transformation.

Azzam Pasha’s interest in Malcolm and his motives for assisting him will also be reviewed.

Much has been written about Malcolm’s relationship with Elijah Muhammad, but little is known about the pivotal role Azzam Pasha played in Malcolm’s life. While authors such as Peter Goldman and Karl Evanzz fail to even mention the Azzams, Nikki Grimes brushes over Malcolm’s interaction with Azzam Pasha and his son with minor importance.4 Similarly, Louis A. DeCaro, Jr. describes Malcolm’s short encounter with the Azzams; however, he is more interested in their motives behind their generosity than their impact on Malcolm’s subsequent worldview and future plans.5 Azzam Pasha’s influence on Malcolm was far greater than what has been recognized to date. Indeed, he was central in shaping Malcolm’s postHajj outlook on race relations. Let us first review who Azzam Pasha was and why Martin Luther King, Jr. N.p.: n.p., 1972.

4 See Grimes, Nikki. Great Lives, Malcolm X: A Force for Change. New York: Fawcett Columbine, 1992.

5 See DeCaro Jr., Louis A. On the Side of My People: A Religious Life of Malcolm X. New York: New York University Press, 1966.

Malcolm was impressed by him.

Like Malcolm, Azzam Pasha (1893–1976) had once been a separatist. And, like Malcolm, later in life he embraced a more pluralistic, tolerant, and universal worldview based on the teachings of Islam. Egyptian by birth, Azzam Pasha was an accomplished Islamic scholar, a parliamentarian, an ambassador, and an international diplomat. He had started his decorated career as a staunch pan-Arab nationalist.6 Azzam Pasha was raised in Egypt when it was still under British rule, and was formally educated in Europe. His desire to see Muslim lands independent of colonial powers compromised his medical studies in London.7 Azzam Pasha left Europe to fight alongside the Libyans against the Italians. He also supported the independence movement in Tunisia and the revolution in Algeria.8 Increasingly agitated with his revolutionary tendencies, the British finally issued a death warrant for Azzam Pasha, but for eight years he succeeded in evading them, roaming the dessert, leading revolts against colonial armies.9 Once Egypt won its independence, Azzam Pasha returned to his country of birth and entered politics. However, during his military or political career, he shifted his focus from pan-Arab nationalism to universalism and composed a collection of essays, which later became his book, The Eternal Message of Muhammad.

Intended for Muslim readers, The Eternal Message focused on the foundations of a 6 Azzam, Abd-al-Rahman. The Eternal Message of Muhammad. New York: The Devin-Adair Company, 1964. Translated from Arabic by Caesar E. Farah, viii.

7 Coury, Ralph M. The Making of an Egyptian Arab Nationalist: The Early Years of Azzam Pasha, 1893 – 1936. United Kingdom: Ithaca Press, 1998. 77.

8 Perry, Bruce. Malcolm: The Life of a Man Who Changed Black America. Barrytown, NY: Station Hill, 1991. 263.

9 Ibid.

Muslim State that built on the ideals of law and justice as expressed in the Qur’an. Its chapters offered a brief overview of the life of the Prophet Muhammad, and sections on the fundamentals of his teachings, social reform, the Islamic State, international relations, disseminating the message of Islam, causes of world disturbances, and the search for a spiritual bulwark for civilization. In addition to penning The Eternal Message, Azzam Pasha founded the Arab League; as its first Secretary General, one of his first acts was to condemn the anti-Jewish rioting that took place in Egypt on November 2-3, 1945.10 In the greater picture, Azzam Pasha traveled a path similar to Malcolm X that allowed his thinking to evolve and grow. Although his journey was drastically different from Malcolm’s, their final destination was the same—to establish justice and equality for all, irrespective of race or religion. Just as one could not have imagined Malcolm X sharing a plate of food and a cot with a white man (as he did during the Hajj), it was equally noteworthy that Azzam Pasha, who had once fought Europeans, now engaged with Western powers as a peer and high-level diplomat.

As Azzam Pasha continued his efforts to seek just, fair, and civilized solutions to the problems facing Arabs and the world at large, he found himself at the United Nations headquarters in New York, where he saw Malcolm X speaking on television and became immediately impressed with his oratory skills.11 More importantly though, Azzam Pasha’s younger son, Issam, notes that his father “saw in Malcolm the young, defiant rebel he had been himself.”12 10 Beinin, Joel. The Dispersion of Egyptian Jewry: Culture, Politics, and the Formation of a Modern Diaspora. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998. 64.

11 Perry, The Life of a Man, 263.

12 Perry, 264.

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It is interesting that although Azzam Pasha knew Malcolm X was misrepresenting the religion of Islam by propagating Elijah Muhammad’s message, his initiative to reach out to Malcolm demonstrates that he recognized Malcolm’s sincerity in his struggle for justice. Without a doubt, he could relate to someof Malcolm X’s complaints about the “white man” based on his own, first-hand experiences with Western colonial powers.1 Furthermore, judging by the important conversation he had with Malcolm in Jeddah, it is clear that Azzam Pasha had the insight to listen, understand, and address some of Malcolm’s grievances.

One of Malcolm X’s biggest points of contention in America was that the white man had “whitened” history books and deprived blacks of learning their heritage and contributions to civilization. It is reasonable to believe that it was with this complaint in mind that Azzam Pasha spent an evening discussing blacks and race relations in Islam with Malcolm. He explained to Malcolm that the Prophet Muhammad had both black and white descendents; and to the extent that racism was a problem in the Muslim world, it was a trend that could be directly correlated with the amount of Western influence in that area.2 The story of Bilal ibn Rabia is one of many pertinent stories Azzam Pasha would have discussed with Malcolm.3 Bilal was one 1 Malcolm spoke at length about the horrors of Western colonialism; in all likelihood, Azzam Pasha was aware of Malcolm’s views and could relate.

2 Haley, Alex. The Autobiography of Malcolm X. New York: Ballantine, 1992. 342.

3 Ruby M. and E. U. Essien-Udom state: “Because of his experience in Mecca and the discussions with learned men in the Islamic world, he came to realize that the problem did not reside in whiteness itself but in the attitude which the Western world and particularly America had vested in whiteness. As a consequence, Malcolm repudiated racist

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of the first converts to Islam and a close companion of the Prophet Muhammad. A black Abyssinian slave persecuted for his new faith, Bilal left behind a legacy that exists to this day. The Prophet Muhammad honored Bilal by giving him the privilege to be the first person to recite the Azhan, which has sounded throughout Islamic countries and mosques worldwide, five times a day, for nearly fifteen hundred years. An Abyssinian wet nurse had reared the Prophet Muhammad himself during his early childhood.4 One cannot imagine that the profound example of Bilal’s lasting commemoration in Islam and the general concept of the equality of man did not move Malcolm X. Azzam Pasha’s generosity towards Malcolm X had moved him to his core, forcing Malcolm to reevaluate his position on the “white” man. Upon returning from the Hajj, he stated, “In the past, yes, I have made sweeping indictments of all white people. I never will be guilty of that again— as I know now that some white people are truly sincere, that some truly are capable of being brotherly toward a black man. The true Islam has shown me that a blanket indictment of all white people is as wrong as when whites make blanket indictments against blacks.”5 The “white” men Malcolm X came to know during the Hajj left a lasting impression on him, particularly Azzam thinking, but this does not mean that he had in any way altered his awareness of the predominance of white power either on the international or the American scene. White power is a reality, but it has to be understood in terms of the imperialistic economic system of Western Europe and America. He clearly understood that this system is rigged against the political, economic, and cultural interests of the underdeveloped world, including such ‘internal colonies’ as the Afro-America [sic] community.” Clarke, John Henrik, A. Peter. Bailey, and Earl Grant. Malcolm X; the Man and His times. New York: Macmillan, 1969. 246.

4 As-Sallaabee, Ali Muhammad. Translated by Faisal Shafeeq. The Noble Life of the Prophet. Riyadh: Darussalam, 2005. 83.

5 Haley, The Autobiography, 369.

Pasha. The Azzams made Malcolm realize that he was projecting the same racism that had victimized him, his family, and his people. The sense of dignity, honor, and equality with which the handful of “white” men received Malcolm X in Jeddah, forced him to accept that good intentions of even a few individuals cannot be dismissed as inconsequential and unimportant.

Judging from the overwhelming, positive, and defining interactions Malcolm X experienced with Azzam Pasha and his family, it is reasonable to believe that Azzam Pasha’s book also served as a great source of motivation and influence for Malcolm.

Given Malcolm X’s past, it seems as though the content of The Eternal Message of Muhammad spoke directly to Malcolm.

It is as if the Prophet Muhammad and Azzam Pasha were specifically addressing Malcolm, and advising him that as an orthodox Muslim he would have to change his past beliefs, convictions, and priorities.

Azzam Pasha states, “Racism, or a fanatic attachment to tribe, nation, color, language, or culture, is rejected by the Message [of the Prophet Muhammad] as a product of pre-Islamic idolatry. The Prophet declares, ‘He is not of us who preaches bigotry.’”6 The point was not that Malcolm could no longer take pride in being black or be affiliated with his community, but that his race could not be used as a reason of feeling superior over others. Furthermore, even the verses of the Qur’an referenced in Azzam Pasha’s book speak to Malcolm X. One of many examples is, “‘let not hatred of any people seduce you that ye deal not justly. Deal justly, that is nearer to your duty.’”7 Surely, on the part of Malcolm, condemning all whites was unjust; and now, he would have 6 Azzam, The Eternal Message, 241.

7 Ibid.

to reassess that indictment.8 Azzam’s The Eternal Message addresses the notion of holding a community collectively responsible for what it allows to transpire within its borders. Azzam Pasha claims, “The social order preached by the Message of Muhammad…employs the conscience of the individual and, collectively, of the group as well as the authority of the state as the means for guaranteeing what is right.

It would denounce the entire community were the community or any of its members to lose sight of the common good.”9 The concept of “collective responsibility” especially resonated with Malcolm. He states, “The collective white man had acted like a devil in virtually every contact he had with the world’s collective non-white man.”10 One reason that Malcolm used to dismiss acts of kindness and compassion on the part of individual whites was that they were too inconsequential in the larger framework of the “collective” white society. Furthermore, Malcolm X applied the idea of dealing with society “collectively” to blackpeople as well as white people. According to his wife, Betty Shabbaz, “Malcolm’s whole program was for black people collectively: He felt that if black people collectively improve their condition, then all black people became beneficiaries.”11 Likewise, Luellen notes, “Muslim dogma not only touched the lives of individual blacks, but placed the responsibility for community-wide welfare on them as well.”12 Malcolm could not have agreed more with Azzam Pasha’s proposition regarding group responsibility.

Azzam Pasha, however, is speaking in the 8 On May 19, 1964, a reporter asked Malcolm: “Do we correctly understand that you now do not think that all whites are evil?” Malcolm replied, “True sir! My trip to Mecca has opened my eyes.” Perry, The Life of a Man, 271.

9 Ibid., 96.

10 Haley, 181.

11 Clarke, The Man and His Times, 138.

12 Luellen, Ministers and Martyrs, 23.

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context of Islam to a Muslim reader. His goal was to present a model for Muslims to reference in building an Islamic State in Muslim lands in the aftermath of Muslim independence from Western colonial powers. That is not to say that his vision of the ideal society did not include a space for non-Muslims. But, Azzam Pasha was not advocating holding any particular group of people responsible for the actions of their ancestors or the individual actions of a few of its members. Overall, Malcolm X understood the point Azzam Pasha was making, which is why he ceased holding all white people responsible for the horrors of slavery after he returned from the Hajj.

Nevertheless, he must have found solace in hearing Azzam Pasha echo some of the same words and ideals he himself had exhaustively preached for the past twelve years.

As part of Malcolm X’s greater Hajj transformation, Azzam Pasha and his book, The Eternal Message, not only played a significant role in compelling Malcolm to rethink his position on white people, but he was, arguably, also the major impetus in Malcolm’s decision to take the United States before the United Nations for abusing the human rights of its black citizens. It was no coincidence that as soon as Malcolm met Azzam Pasha, who was clearly familiar with the workings of the United Nations, he began voicing plans to go before the United Nations with his case. Malcolm X had learned that the United Nations was “proposing to insure the human rights of the oppressed minorities of the world.”1 He states, “The American black man is the world’s most shameful case of minority oppression… If the American black man will start thinking about his humanrights, and then start thinking of himself as part of 1 Haley, 182.

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one of the world’s great peoples, he will see he has a case for the United Nations. I can’t think of a better case!”2 Malcolm X’s plans to engage the international legal system were yet another example of his post-Hajj transformation and fell in line with Azzam Pasha’s methods of addressing a wide- scale problem. The importance of Azzam Pasha’s influence over Malcolm as a mentor and teacher should not be underestimated.

In reviewing Malcolm X’s relationship with Azzam Pasha, one cannot help but speculate on Azzam Pasha’s motives for assisting Malcolm. DeCaro is not wrong in questioning Azzam Pasha’s eagerness to help Malcolm. It is valid, and pertinent, to ask why a wealthy Arab diplomat with family ties to the Saudi ruler would be interested in Malcolm X. DeCaro casts the Azzams’ hospitality “as an example of Muslim generosity” but thinks, “their actions were grounded in a definite purpose.” He goes on to explain why: “Malcolm had neither money nor a formidable organizational base in the United States, but the Muslim cause needed neither of these. What Malcolm X did have, however, was a brilliant gift to charismatic leadership, a genuine religious zeal, and a personal appeal to the black masses in the urban centers of the United States.”3 Concluding that Azzam Pasha befriended Malcolm for his charm and ability to galvanize people to further “the Muslim cause” is partially true.

But first, contrary to DeCaro’s assertion, Malcolm X understood quite well the Azzams’ reasons for wanting to assist him.

Luellen asserts, “The reality of Malcolm’s often tragic experience had taught him to be exceedingly suspicious of platitudes. He was convinced of the sincerity of another’s declaration of brotherhood only when 2 Ibid., 183.

3 DeCaro, On the Side of My People: A Religious Life of Malcolm X, 217.

it translated into action.”4 Furthermore, Malcolm X himself made clear he was not one to blindly and naively trust anyone.

While reminiscing over his experience with the Azzams, he states, “Nothing in either of my two careers as a black man in America had served to give me any idealistic tendencies. My instincts automatically examine the reasons, the motives, of anyone who did anything they didn’t have to do for me. Always in life, if it was any white person, I could see a selfish motive there.”5 Eugene Victor Wolfenstein posits, “Not this time: Malcolm could find no self-interested motive in the Azzams’ action, and he was therefore forced to conclude that they were simply motivated by the Muslim spirit of brotherly love.”6 It is interesting that here Malcolm would actually agree with DeCaro’s conclusion: that the Azzams were interested in his special abilities as an orator and leader, even though he was too modest to admit it. However, he viewed their efforts in light of the same “Muslim spirit of brotherly love” that Wolfenstein suggests.

Malcolm X found nothing wrong with Azzam Pasha wanting to utilize his popular appeal to spread the message of Islam—something Malcolm X considered a religious duty. Considering that Malcolm was a proven, effective, and relentless missionary, Azzam Pasha was acutely aware of his ability to proselytize. In fact, he made it well known to Malcolm he had been following him in the press for some time and was aware of his sphere of influence. But, Malcolm X may have sensed a genuine sincerity in Azzam Pasha to fulfill his obligation as a responsible 4 Luellen, 40.

5 Haley, 182.

6 Wolfenstein, E. Victor. The Victims of Democracy: Malcolm X and the Black Revolution. Berkeley: U of California, 1981. 306.

Muslim in educating people in the teachings of orthodox Islam. Moreover, Malcolm X had misled thousands of people about the religion of Islam and now it was time to reverse the damage he had (unintentionally) dealt to his new faith.

Moreover, Malcolm X expressed great disappointment that Arabs had not pursued a more vigorous missionary campaign to introduce orthodox Islam in America to none other than the ruler of Arabia himself, Prince Faisal. Dining with Prince Faisal was part of the honor bestowed on Malcolm as a State guest while on the Hajj. During their conversation, the Prince had questioned Malcolm X on why he had allowed Elijah Muhammad to mislead him on what Islam really was.

Malcolm X recalled, “I was to learn…that Elijah Muhammad’s tales, like…the one of ‘Yacub,’ infuriated the Muslims of the East.”7 In an honest but bold response to the Prince, Malcolm expressed his sense of frustration with Arabs for not doing more to educate Americans on Islam.

Malcolm X stated, “While at Mecca, I reminded them that it was their fault, since they themselves hadn’t done enough to make real Islam known in the West.

Their silence left a vacuum into which any religious faker could step and mislead our people.”8 Malcolm X believed Muslims’ lack of activism and Islamic scholarship in America made it possible for people like Elijah Muhammad and others to misrepresent Islam and mislead people like himself. Malcolm X was well aware of how damaging his role had been in the Nation of Islam, and he was even more eager than Azzam Pasha and Prince Faisal to correct his past actions.

a

7 Haley, 171.

8 Ibid.

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The War on Drugs and the War on Terror: Parallels and Implications Osama El-Gabalawy B.S. Biology ’15, M.S. Computer Science ’16, Stanford University

President Ronald Reagan declared shortly after assuming office in 1982, “We’re taking down the surrender flag that has flown over so many drug efforts; we’re running up a battle flag. We can fight the drug problem, and we can win.”1 With those words, he signed an executive order, marking his administration’s official adoption of Nixon’s War on Drugs. Nineteen years later, and nine days after the 9/11 attacks, President George Bush addressed a joint Congress, “Our War on Terror begins with Al Qaida, but it does not end there. It will not end until every terrorist group of global reach has been found, stopped, and defeated.”2 With those words, his administration ushered in the global and domestic War on Terror. Although seemingly disconnected by time and context, the War on Drugs and the War on Terror bear striking similarities including the laws passed, media coverage, racial profiling by law enforcement, FBI operations, and more.

These similarities not only explain the common harm these wars have brought on marginalized communities, but expose the interconnectedness of these wars and their repercussions today.

1 Reagan, Ronald. “Ronald Reagan: Remarks on Signing Executive Order 12368, Concerning Federal Drug Abuse Policy Functions.” N.p., 24 June 1982. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

2 Bush, George. “George W. Bush: Address Before a Joint Session of the Congress on the United States Response to the Terrorist Attacks of September 11.” N.p., 20 Sept. 2001.

Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

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Neither the War on Drugs nor the War on Terror could have been waged as staunchly without widespread, public support. The Bush and Reagan administrations, in coordination with the media, were able to polarize public perception in favor of their campaigns. When Reagan began his offensive on drugs, less than 2 percent of Americans viewed drugs as the most important issue, and by 1989, 64 percent thought drugs were the most significant issue facing the nation.3 Only after crack cocaine and joblessness swept the streets in 1985, did the Reagan administration successfully begin to build widespread support for its drug offensive by working closely with media correspondents to publicize the emergence of crack as an epidemic.4 The events of 9/11 frightened Americans.

The Bush administration was keen on building upon America’s shocked conscience to support its War on Terror. For example, when the Anthrax attacks began one week after 9/11, FBI director Robert Mueller explained how he was “beaten up” for not blaming the Anthrax scare on Al Qaida, despite being repeatedly pressured

by White House officials.5 The Bush 3 Alexander, Michelle. The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. N.p.: n.p., n.d. Print.

Page 49.

4 Ibid, 52.

5 Meek, James. “Blame It on Al Qaeda, FBI Was Told.” NY Daily News. N.p., 2 Aug. 2008. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

administration went so far as to quietly set up an Office of Strategic Influence to bolster psychological support for the War on Terror abroad using propaganda.6 The media’s fixation on terrorism and retaliation catalyzed the necessary shift in public perception to garner widespread support for the War on Terror.7 In covering the news, the media not only mirrored both Bush and Reagan administrations’ strong war rhetoric in its headlines, but flooded the American public with images and captions that demonized crack cocaine and terrorism.

These narratives only served to perpetuate the most negative stereotypes of Blacks and Arabs/Muslims.8 9 The public perception of the War on Drugs was premised on the racialization of drug abuse to Blacks, and similarly, the perception of the War on Terror was premised on the religionization and racialization of terrorism to Arabs and Muslims. More concerning, however, is that both narratives persist today in spite of facts. The overwhelming majority of illicit drugs, cocaine, and even crack users are white.10 Similarly, less than 2 percent of terrorist acts have been committed by Muslims in Europe and the United States.11 Yet, to this day, the “terrorist” label is almost exclusively applied to Muslim perpetrators in the media.12 Meanwhile, the triple homicide of the three Muslim students at 6 “New Pentagon Office to Spearhead Information War.” CNN. Cable News Network, 20 Feb. 2002. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

7 Bonner, Raymond. “The Media and 9/11: How We Did.” The Atlantic. N.p., 9 Sept. 2011. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

8 Alexander, 5.

9 Gross, K. Sides, J. Stereotypes of Muslims and Support for the War on Terror.

10 Fellner, Jamie. “Race, Drugs, and Law Enforcement in the United States.” Human Rights Watch, 19 June 2009. Web. 16 Mar. 2015.

11 “Less Than 2% Terrorist Acts Have Been Committed By Muslims In Europe & US.” AnonHQ. N.p., 15 Jan. 2015.

Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

12 Farhi, Paul. “In the News Media, Are Muslims the Only ‘terrorists’?” Washington Post. The Washington Post, 10 June 2014. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

Chapel Hill should draw our attention to a more common American terrorist profile: “a white man with a weapon and a grudge.”13 Beyond the media and at the heart of both the War on Drugs and War on Terror is legislation that encroaches on civil liberties along racial and religious lines. Following the rise of crack and the 9/11 attacks, an environment of fear engulfed the American public over drugs and terrorism respectively. While journalists and politicians sustained this fear, the Reagan and Bush administrations capitalized on the rare bipartisanship this fear created.

Hastily, Reagan passed the Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986 and Bush passed the USA PATRIOT14 Act of 2001. Looking at wording alone, opposition to the AntiDrug Abuse Act was construed as pro-drug use, and opposition to the Patriot Act was unpatriotic.

The Anti-Drug Abuse Act and other punitive legislations allocated $2 billion to drug efforts, authorized illegally obtained evidence in drug trials, enacted minimum sentences and sentencing disparities between crack and cocaine.15 The War on Drugs resulted in the New Jim Crow and the mass incarceration of African Americans.16 The Patriot Act, likewise, authorized indefinite detention of immigrants, expanded the definition of terrorism to include domestic terrorism, and thus lifted restrictions on spying on US citizens suspected of terrorism.17 The Patriot Act has only served to alienate and embed 13 Goldberg, Michelle. “The Most Common Type of American Terrorist Is a White Man With a Weapon and a Grudge.”

The Nation, 11 Feb. 2015. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

14 An acronym for Uniting and Strengthening America by Providing Appropriate Tools Required to Intercept and Obstruct Terrorism 15 Alexander, 53.

16 Ibid, 58.

17 “USA Patriot Act of 2001.” (n.d.): n. pag. 26 Oct. 2001.

Web.

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fear in American Muslim communities.1 As for sentencing, Human Rights Watch reported that federal judges use minimum sentences and, at their discretion, include a “terrorism adjustment” resulting in disproportionate sentences for unproven, non-violent, and informant terrorism cases.2 Since terrorism prosecutions number in the hundreds,3 the effects of mass incarceration are not exactly felt by American Muslim communities, but the groundwork is in place.

Common to both the War on Drugs and War on Terror is massive allocations of funds and resources. Between 1981 and 1991, the antidrug allocations for both the Department of Defense and the Drug Enforcement Agency grew more than ten times to just over $1 billion each, and the FBI’s antidrug allocations grew from $38 to $181 million. One year after 9/11, the Department of Homeland Security was created with an initial budget of $16 billion, and now it is at $61 billion.4 As of 2004, more than 40 percent of the FBI’s $3.3 billion budget is devoted to counterterrorism.5 One immediate consequence of increased law enforcement funding is rampant racial profiling. Owing to the War on Drugs’ legacy, the NYPD instituted practices such as stop-and-frisk that disproportionately affected Blacks and Latinos although Whites are more likely to have a weapon

1 Cuffe, Jenny. “US Muslims ‘alienated by Patriot Act’” BBC News. BBC, 4 July 2006. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

2 Illusion of Justice: Human Rights Abuses in US Terrorism Prosecutions. Human Rights Watch. Columbia Law School.

N.p., July 2014. Web. 17 Mar. 2015 3 Ibid.

4 “United States Department of Homeland Security.” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

5 The FBI’s Counterterrorism Program Since September 2001. 14 Apr. 2004.

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or contraband.6 7 The same NYPD conducted surveillance on all Muslim neighborhoods, infiltrating mosques and student groups to gather intelligence.8 With little transparency, little judicial oversight, and Patriot Act reinforcement, local law enforcement seem to prefer a system of profiling and stubborn denial.

The coining of terms such as Driving While Black9 and Flying While Muslim10 hint at underlying implications of the Wars on Drug and Terror where race or religious appearance become evidence of guilt, and local law enforcement, consciously or subconsciously, follow a model of guilty until proven innocent.

At the federal level, the FBI makes extensive use of informants to infiltrate and conduct surveillance on Muslim communities, creating “demographic profiles mapping racial, ethnic, and religious compositions of neighborhoods.”11 Ignoring the fact that the creation of these “profile maps” is reminiscent of redlining practices, it is at least clear that these maps come from unsubstantiated racialized theories of terrorism.12 Even more problematic is the FBI’s commitment to informant intelligence. Up to 80 percent of all drug cases in America involve informants, and similarly, of the 508 terrorism defendants put on trial, almost 90 percent were 6 Riggins, Thomas. “People’s World.” New York Stop and Frisk Police Harassment Found Unconstitutional » Peoplesworld. People’s World, 10 Jan. 2013. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

7 Shen, Aviva. “White People Stopped By New York Police Are More Likely To Have Guns Or Drugs Than Minorities.”

ThinkProgress RSS. Think Progress, 22 May 2013. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

8 Mathias, Christopher. “NYPD Surveillance Of Muslim Communities Prompts Post-9/11 Civil Liberties Debate.”

The Huffington Post. TheHuffingtonPost.com, 19 Nov. 2011.

Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

9 “Driving While Black.” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

10 “Flying While Muslim.” Wikipedia. Wikimedia Foundation, n.d. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

11 Illusion of Justice: Human Rights Abuses in US Terrorism Prosecutions, 18 12 Ibid.

either targeted by a sting operation or an informant.13 Drug informants are incentivized by money and leniency in their pending criminal cases to snitch and often fabricate stories.14 Terrorism informants commonly pose as converts, and are willing to “go as far as destroying the lives of others to get money from the government [as much as $200,000].”15 Moreover, informants frequently target vulnerable individuals in American Muslim communities, especially those who are very poor, seeking guidance, or have mental illnesses or intellectual disabilities.16 In my local LA community, FBI surveillance has a tangible and chilling effect on how Muslim members act and talk. People avoid mosques, opt to pray at home, reduce donations to avoid government attention, and pay in cash to avoid leaving records. It is not unusual for mosques to ask speakers to refrain from political messages in sermons, especially criticism of U.S. foreign policy.17 Knowing the FBI’s history of COINTELPRO which targeted the Southern Christian Leadership Conference and Black Panthers, the FBI surveillance programs post-9/11 carry the FBI’s legacy of sabotage into the 21st century.

“Countering Violent Extremism” is a chief strategy of law enforcement to create trust in American Muslim communities,18 and for good reason. Since 9/11, Muslim communities have helped prevent nearly 2 13 Stillman, Sarah. “The Throwaways.” The New Yorker, 3 Sept. 2012. Web. 16 Mar. 2015.

14 Alexander, 87.

15 Shiekh, Irum. Detained Without Cause: Muslims' Stories of Detention and Deportation in America after 9/11. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. 202. Print.

16 Illusion of Justice, 19.

17 Teresa, Watanabe, and Paloma Esquivel. "L.A. Area Muslims Say FBI Surveillance Has a Chilling Effect on Their Free Speech and Religious Practices." Los Angeles Times.

Los Angeles Times, 01 Mar. 2009. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

18 Illusion of Justice, 7.

out of every 5 Al Qaida plots threatening the United States.19 In profiling Muslims, law enforcement treats its greatest asset as an enemy and deviates widely from community policing. This divorce between law enforcement and community engagement is manifest in the Wars on Drug and Terror and considered an acceptable trade-off for security.

Today, the War on Drugs and the War on Terror are alive, interconnected, and supporting one another. The Bush and Obama administrations shelled out $135 million to New York for its High Intensity Drug Trafficking Area program, of which, the NYPD used to fund its surveillance on Muslim neighborhoods.20 There is far more evidence, however, that the War on Terror is supporting the War on Drugs.

The Patriot Act authorized delayed notice search warrants, also known as sneak-andpeak warrants, which FBI Director Mueller described as “an invaluable tool in the War on Terror.”21 However in practice, less than 1 percent of the warrants pertain to terrorism investigations while 76 percent are being used to continue the War on Drugs.22 The Department of Homeland Security’s “See Something, Say Something”23 campaign, as part of the Nationwide Suspicious Activity Reporting Initiative (SAR), is designed for counterterrorism. It invites racial profiling of Blacks and Latinos, erodes civil liberties, and undermines security.24 Even 19 Beutel J., Alejandro. Data on Post-9/11 Terrorism in the United States. Policy Report. Muslim Public Affairs Council.

Jun. 2012. 3. Web. 20 Sullivan, Eileen. "White House Helps Pay for NYPD Muslim Surveillance." Associated Press, 27 Feb. 2012. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

21 Mueller, Robert. "USA Patriot Act SUNSET PROVISIONS." FBI. FBI, 05 Apr. 2005. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

22 Greene, Robyn. "A Tool in the Government's War on Privacy? Absolutely. But in Its War on Terror? Not So Much..."

American Civil Liberties Union. N.p., 28 Oct. 2011. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

23 "Homeland Security." If You See Something, Say Something™. N.p., n.d. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

24 Cincotta, Thomas. Platform for Prejudice. Public Eye. N.p., Mar. 2010. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

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in airports, despite a disproportionate number of Arabs and Muslims on the nofly list,1 T.S.A officers, under pressure from managers to meet referral quotas, racially profile Blacks and Latinos believing that they more likely to yield drugs, arrest warrants, and immigration problems.2 Many of the counterterrorism strategies employed by the government are adaptable weapons used to assert dominance and maintain the battle front on the War on Terror, the War on Drugs, and other white hegemonic frontiers.

The Wars on Drugs and Terrorism have taken broad concepts, narrowed their context, and have forever racialized their definitions. Meanwhile, society carries forward their legacies of Islamophobia and racism. The intricate intertwining of the War on Terror and the War on Drugs manifest themselves across America, especially in cities like Ferguson. Reagan’s administration ushered in paramilitary 1 Martin, Phillip. "See Something, Say Something: Safe, Or Unfair?" WGBH News. N.p., 13 Sept. 2011. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

2 Schmidt, Michael S., and Eric Lichtblau. "Racial Profiling Rife at Airport, U.S. Officers Say." The New York Times. The New York Times, 11 Aug. 2012. Web. 15 Mar. 2015.

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SWAT units across the country for more active drug policing in the 1980s.3 The trend continues, in the name of homeland security, as local police departments stockpiled more military equipment since 9/11 consuming $34 billion in federal grants.4 The winding global War on Terror brings even more military equipment to local and state police units, without oversight.5 This militarization enables police to be more aggressive in their war against drugs, disproportionately impacting communities of color.6 Tragically, it is Mike Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice, and other victims of police brutality that are the senseless victims of these wars.

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3 Balko, Radley. "The Militarization of America's Police Forces." (n.d.): n. pag. Cato Institute, Fall 2013. Web. 4 Schulz, Andrew BeckerG. W. "Local Cops Ready for War With Homeland Security-Funded Military Weapons." The Daily Beast. Newsweek/Daily Beast, 21 Dec. 2011. Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

5 Apuzzo, Matt. "War Gear Flows to Police Departments."

The New York Times. The New York Times, 08 June 2014.

Web. 17 Mar. 2015.

6 War Comes Home: The Excessive Militarization of American Policing. American Civil Liberties Union. June 2014.

Beyond the Imperial Paradigm: Personal Experiences at Eyüp Alexa Andaya B.A. Political Science, Minors in History and Modern Languages ’16, Stanford University

This paper was originally written for a course titled “Travels in the Ottoman History with Evliya Celebi,” offered through Stanford’s Bing Overseas Studies Program based in Istanbul, Turkey at Koç University. The paper was modified slightly for submission to Avicenna.

The story of Istanbul’s Eyüp Sultan Mosque complex traditionally centers on the circumstances of its creation— that is, its establishment in the time of Mehmet the Conqueror. This initial focus colors the rest of the narrative, which continues by emphasizing the cultivation of value and myth over time by Ottoman elites. History thus showcases Eyüp as an imperial project, framing the Ottoman state as the key actor imposing a legend upon its subjects, who are merely passive receivers of that legend. I argue that this dominant narrative regarding Eyüp is missing an essential component: that of the ordinary visitors, past and present, those for whom the shrine truly carries religious meaning more than embodies ideas of empire or legitimacy. The site certainly bears tremendous significance in the context of constructing an Ottoman identity and image, but in privileging these aspects and rationale above all else, existing literature ignores the rich viewpoints and experiences of Eyüp as a sacred—rather than singularly imperial— space. While many texts focus on Eyüp as

a monument to creating empire, visiting the site today suggests the importance of personal spiritual experience rather than an overwhelming awe of imperial power.

In the latter context, the Eyüp complex— ostensibly built to honor the revered Arab warrior Abu Ayyub al-Ansari, or “Eyüp”—is especially notable because of its establishment at the very beginning of the Ottoman imperial era and at the heart of the empire, thus profoundly and immediately tying the nascent state to religion. Accounts of the finding of the grave vary in their details, but many “sixteenth-century texts tell of the miraculous discovery of Ayyub’s grave at a difficult moment during the Ottoman siege of Constantinople.”7 This story lends a religious legitimacy to the Ottoman conquerors and is one of many such legends surrounding the empire’s origins.

In addition to the strategic timing of the 7 Kafescioğlu, Çiğdem. Constantinopolis/Istanbul: Cultural Encounter, Imperial Vision, and the Construction of the Ottoman Capital. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2009. 46.

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A view of the Eyup Sultan Mosque in Eyup, Istanbul (photo by Alexa Andaya ’16)

Eyüp grave’s alleged detection and the shrine’s construction, we see also that there was methodical intention regarding the specific site of the shrine: “Contemporary narrative sources incorporating the story of the warrior saint and the discovery of his grave reveal that the Ottoman invention of tradition involved a choice concerning the location of discovery. As Paul Wittek convincingly argued in 1951, two sites, not one, were venerated as the warrior’s grave.”1 The fact that the shrine was deemed important to the new empire’s identity may be seen in the politics surrounding the eventual site choice— and, ultimately, the imperial image: “Built shortly before Mehmed’s definitive move to the city, the Ayyub foundation, through association with the prophet and his armies, aimed to legitimize the decision

to inhabit the city….The site that sanctified the Ottoman conquest of and rule over the city remained outside, embodying the tensions between the ruler’s centralizing, imperial vision, in which Constantinople represented the natural seat of power, and the ghazi vision, in which the city was no more than a target of conquest and expansion.”2 Thus, every aspect of Eyüp’s foundation seems to reflect an imperial purpose at a critical juncture; as the new sovereigns of the formerly Byzantine Constantinople, the Ottomans instantly asserted their dominion, basing it on religious legitimacy by—among other actions—building a shrine at Eyüp.

1 Kafescioğlu, 46.

2 Ibid, 46-47.

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Given this beginning, the Eyüp narrative naturally flows into a discussion of the site’s

continued utility as a symbol of Ottoman dominance rooted in divine right.

Eyüp’s traditional role in royal accession ceremonies is underlined, for example, as it was “[a]t the [Eyüp] mausoleum [that] Ottoman sultans received divine sanction upon their enthronement.”3 Indeed, sultans journeyed to the tomb on various occasions, “marking and giving divine sanction to events of significance to the dynasty (such as the enthronement of a new ruler or the initiation and the end of military campaigns).”4 The legitimizing significance of the shrine was not limited to royalty; rather, other members of the Ottoman elite likewise laid claims to this significance, and “[t]he sacred site created and sustained by the new rule soon added to its multiple roles that of a burying ground.”5 In fact, a sixteenth-century visitor to the city wrote, “The grandees of the empire compete for the burial places available near him [al-Ansari]. They acquire plots there at the highest price.

All good men even of modest condition also do all they can to obtain their place beside this tomb.”6 The cream of Ottoman society, then, considered Eyüp a source of validation—only those who were prominent, wealthy, and “good” attained spaces for eternal rest in proximity to the al-Ansari shrine.

Virtually without exception, the major existing literature on Eyüp concentrates on one view of the mosque complex: its meaning for the upper social echelons, as produced and propagated by those same groups. The focus is on Eyüp as a structure of the Ottoman Empire. As scholar Heghnar Watenpaugh discusses in 3 Ibid, 49.

4 Ibid, 50.

5 Ibid.

6 El-Tangrouti, Relation d’une ambassade marocaine en Turquie, ed. Henry de Castries, 1929: 56-7, quoted in Mansel, Philip. Constantinople: City of the World’s Desire, 1453-1924. London: John Murray, 1995. 28.

a podcast, architectural history generally investigates either a building’s “moment of origin” or “every moment of a building’s history,” including its “ongoing use… nonuse… [and] manipulation”;7 I find in the literature that both the origin and the later history of the Eyüp Sultan Mosque are treated at length, but the fact that the shrine very clearly originated as an imperial undertaking seems to have set the paradigm for the rest of the narrative.

Thus, there is great attention to Eyüp’s role in asserting a distinctly “Ottoman” imperial identity, as though the shrine served only this function. In Halil Inalcik’s article on Istanbul, for example, scant space is afforded to the tomb’s ordinary pilgrims, and the majority of the text is devoted to the elite perspective. The following paragraph is illustrative: “Ayyub’s tomb, which rapidly grew into a town outside the walls of the city on the Golden Horn, became the most sacred place in Istanbul. Each day hundreds of believers would visit with offerings and seek the saint’s help. The most famous of the dervish convents as well as a huge cemetery clustered around the tomb. It is also significant that each Sultan upon his accession to the throne visited the tomb following the same route as the legend described for Ayyub. At the site, the most venerated Seyh of the day girded the Sultan with the sacred sword of the ghaza. Thus, the saint’s presence not only made the whole area of Istanbul a consecrated place for Muslims, but also gave the Sultan’s rule over the Muslims a religious sanction.”8 Even when the common believers are mentioned in connection with the shrine, they are subordinated to the imperial narrative; the spiritual aspect of Eyüp is 7 Watenpaugh, Heghnar. “Imperial Architecture and Urban Experience in Ottoman Aleppo.” Podcast audio. Ottoman History Podcast.

8 Inalcik, Halil. “Istanbul: An Islamic City.” Journal of Islamic Studies 1,1990. 4.

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academically treated only insofar as it demonstrates the Ottoman manipulation of religion in service of empire. While the elite are discussed as individuals, the commoners are a skillfully maneuvered crowd.

Visiting Eyüp today suggests an alternative viewpoint to the top-down version of elite encounters with the mosque complex: the bottom-up perspective of the people who visit the shrine because of genuine spiritual sentiment. Studying abroad in Istanbul’s Koç University this winter, I have had the unique opportunity to examine the site through firsthand experiences as well as through text. Despite my readings’ stress on “Ottomanness” and empire, those aspects are not necessarily conspicuous components of the modern Eyüp complex.

From my prior knowledge, conversations with Turkish students, and two trips to Eyüp myself, it is clear that the shrine remains a popular pilgrimage site. In fact, Enis—the Koç student who accompanied me on my second Eyüp visit—related that his mother prays at the shrine every time she travels to Istanbul. The interactions I observed between the visitors and the space suggest a deeply personal connection that seems to have little to do with earthly power hierarchies. At the Eyüp Sultan Mosque complex, there is a distinct absence of the rigid solemnity that I had expected from such a site; instead, the space is lively and busy. People crowd the inner courtyard reverently, eyes closed and focused on something beyond the surrounding world, but right next to them, someone distributes sweets in thanks for

Photo by Alexa Andaya ’16

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an answered prayer, others chat casually, and tourists take photographs. The sounds of the fountain, employees of nearby restaurants, and children in the outer spaces are heard even from the inner area.

Exploring those outer spaces, it becomes obvious that the mosque complex is not only a space for religious devotion—it is also for families and serves as a social space.

The complex’s present-day atmosphere challenges the idea of Eyüp as a oneway symbol linking people to a powerful authority; to me, at least, the area does not flaunt an imperial identity. Today, there is some special value that visitors assign to Eyüp that is intimate rather than imperial, which must have also been the case even in earlier eras. We live, of course, in different times, and maybe Eyüp did evoke empire and divinely legitimize the Ottomans in the eyes of the common people. However, this issue is exactly what demands further investigation. Attaining a fuller understanding of the site requires exploration of how ordinary visitors interacted and continue to interact with the shrine, beyond the framework of Eyüp as a state-imposed monument.

After all, despite Eyüp’s beginnings as part of an imperial project, the shrine developed actual religious meaning. Philip Mansel’s 1995 Constantinople offers a tantalizing view of the experiences of the mass of believers before continuing with an empire-centered narrative: “Pilgrims came to revere the grave in the courtyard, surrounded by a silver grating, gilded candlesticks and open Korans….

Abu Ayyub became the patron of Ottoman Constantinople.

Non-Muslims were not permitted to open shops in such a sacred district. Today the district around

his tomb, known as Eyup, is the most revered Muslim site in Turkey. Particularly during the holy month of Ramadan, it is palpably different from the rest of the city.

Surrounded by graveyards and streets of marble mausoleums, the mosque remains open to a sea of believers until late into the night.”1 In most texts, in fact, such glimpses of the ordinary encounter with the site are included; after all, the construction of an Ottoman identity through the Eyüp shrine would not have been possible without genuine mass sentiment. However, again, the common religious experience is only alluded to so as to illustrate the imperial project. Future research should explore the experiences of the people for their own sake, rather than in exclusive reference to empire.

While the Eyüp Sultan Mosque complex undoubtedly represents an assertion of Ottoman imperial authority, there is more than one narrative concerning the site’s history and worth. Focusing solely on the shrine’s imperial identity ignores the modern reality as well as the common religious experience in earlier Ottoman eras. With the modern movement in the field of history toward a more inclusive perspective on the past, one that looks beyond the elite viewpoint, we can uncover the vibrancy of the ordinary visitor’s pilgrimage to Eyüp as well as the layers of religious and personal meaning currently obscured by the empire-centered paradigm.

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1 Mansel, Constantinople, 28-29.

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A P E O P L E ’ S P U B L I C AT I O N

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STANFORD UNIVERSITY